by Lauren Runow
Tanner, on the other hand, hasn’t felt the full Sexton effect. It’s a blessing and a curse. Women want to sleep with you for money. Men want to be friends with you for power. Everyone else wants to take you down.
I’m sure he has had no trouble meeting girls on his own merit. College is the easiest place to get laid. Everyone’s single and partying. Plus, the kid has looks. Where I have my father’s dark eyes and dark hair, Tanner is all Mom—blond hair and blue eyes. He must stand out in the New York social scene with his California surfer look.
“I bet women go crazy for the silent, artistic type,” I suggest.
“It definitely hasn’t hurt me. My bed is always warm at night and empty in the morning.”
I can’t relate to him at all. When I was his age, I had a steady girlfriend and a ring in my top drawer.
“Tell me about this girl,” he says. “Is she your Daisy Buchanan?”
Falling back in my chair, I shake my head at his reference to The Great Gatsby. I haven’t told him, but I’ve been reading it at night before I go to sleep. “Daisy was a selfish and shallow debutant.”
“And Jay Gatsby was a millionaire who pined for the dream.”
“Am I Gatsby in this conversation?” I ask incredulously.
He laughs. “You’re whoever you think you are, brother. Just don’t let her marry someone else and live the life of disillusionment. You might end up dead in a pool.”
Tanner’s use for creating a lesson out of art astounds me. He can look at a red circle on a canvas and tell you how it is a metaphor for the human condition. I, on the other hand, just see a red blob from a lazy painter who didn’t want to finish his work.
I rub my eyes, knowing he’s going to lambaste me for this. “All this from the guy who doesn’t want to settle down.”
“That’s because I’m twenty-two. If I were old like you—”
“I’m thirty years old.”
“You act like you’re fifty. I’m glad that you’re taking a girl to Tahoe.”
“The last thing I need to hear is how my baby brother is proud of me.”
“She must be special.”
My mind fills with images of Tessa and our kiss last night on the fire escape. Yeah, I know she’s worth it. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “She is.”
“Anyway …” Tanner draws out. “Enough about your sex life. I’m coming home in a few weeks. Can I crash with you, so I don’t have to stay with Dad and Missy? I’m always freaked out she’s going to come in my bed late at night.” He lets out a gagging noise that makes me laugh.
“Yeah, that’s no problem. Just let me know when.”
“Cool. Later, brother. Oh, and can you do me a favor? While you’re in Tahoe, grab Mom’s first edition of Pride and Prejudice.”
I shake my head. “I’m not reading another book—”
“It’s for Austin.” He laughs. “Though I doubt he can control his ADD long enough to read it. Thanks, man.”
We hang up, and for a moment, I let myself remember what life was like when I was his age. I had everything I ever wanted. I was going to travel the world, and life was so carefree. I want that for him.
Really, I want that for me.
I sit back in my chair, contemplating everything that Missy sent me about the sale of the company. If we did sell, I’d be able to live my life the way I wanted. I’d travel. I’d take the photos I always wanted to. I have the connections; there’s no doubt I’d be able to see my work displayed in National Geographic or hanging in galleries. I’d actually have a life.
My vision turns to the plant my mom gave me, how happy she was when I graduated, how proud she was that she was able to give me the life I wanted. And she did. Everything she created here has given me so much more than I ever dreamed.
But I know she wanted me to be happy and to have a family as well. If she made it work, then why can’t I?
A new motivation comes over me. She made it possible. She relied on her team to make it happen. I have that team in place. Now, it’s time for me to take control of the one thing I’ve let go for so long.
My life.
I push the intercom button. “Jalynn, cancel my appointments for Wednesday through Friday.”
“Um, yeah, I’ll get right on that,” she says a little confused but thankfully without asking questions.
“Oh, and connect me to Lumiére Salon and Spa.”
It only takes her a minute to reply, “The receptionist is on hold for you on line one.”
I pick up the phone with so much confidence that I feel like I am Superman. The ironic thought makes me laugh.
“Hello, Aiesha. It’s Bryce Sexton. I’d like to talk to the manager, please,” I say into the phone.
“Do I get to know why?” she singsongs to me.
“I’d rather discuss it with him first,” I sing right back. Not as sweetly, I might add.
“Damn. Fine. Please hold.” She audibly pouts.
There’s club music playing in the background. I sit and listen to the bass reverberating in my ear.
Someone picks the phone up and shouts into it, “This is Emmanuel. How can I help you?”
“Emmanuel, this is Bryce Sexton. I was a client of Tessa Clarke’s a few weeks ago—”
“The Tesla guy. You know, you cost me twenty dollars. What can I do for you, Mr. Sexton?” He sounds annoyed to be hearing from me.
I ignore the attitude.
“I’d like to take Tessa away for a few days, and I know she’s been working for you for only a short period, and she probably doesn’t have any vacation days saved up, so I would like to book myself an appointment every hour for her entire shift for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. This way, she will get to leave with me, and you are still getting your portion.”
His voice starts and cuts out a few times, as if he’s in shock. “Well, that’s a very generous offer, but that’s not how I run a business. Tessa has clients booked, and I need the extra makeup artist on staff for the Friday rush.”
“I’ll throw in a feature about your salon in our Sunday bridal section of the San Francisco Standard at no charge.”
He takes a sharp breath in. That’s the most coveted spot of our Sunday section and worth a pretty penny. “Mr. Sexton, I think we can make that happen. I’ll hand you back to Aiesha to schedule the payment of those days. You will be prepaying,” he drawls.
“Thank you, Emmanuel. I’ll have someone from Editorial contact you next week.”
Only seconds later, I hear the squeal of Aiesha, as I’m sure Emmanuel has told her of our deal.
When she picks up the phone, I’m having a hard time containing my smile as she says, “I knew you were a good one. That girl deserves to be swept off her feet. Now, if you fuck with her head, I’m gonna open up a can of whoop ass on you.”
“That won’t be a problem. Just promise you won’t tell her. It’s a surprise,” I say.
She lets out another squeal. “This day just keeps getting better. I’mma go make another bet with Emmanuel that you two make it through the weekend. The man has no faith in you two as a couple, but I think you’ve got something special.”
This time, I allow myself to smile.
16
TESSA
Charlie and I are walking down the street when my phone rings.
“Who’s that, Mommy?” Charlie asks as I pull it from my back pocket.
Bryce’s name flashes across my screen, and Charlie starts to jump with anticipation.
“Answer it, Mommy. Ask him if he’s coming to Boy Scouts tomorrow.”
The smile on my face from seeing his name on my screen grows even more when I see how happy Charlie is at the thought of Bryce calling. But still …
“Bryce can’t take you to Boy Scouts every week.”
“Why not?” He looks up at me, confused.
“One, he works, and two, he’s not your parent,” I explain.
Charlie ignores me and points to the phone. “You gonna answer that?”
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I fumble with the phone for a second. “Hello?” I answer.
“Have you guys eaten yet?” he says in a deep, breathy voice, making my tummy flip.
“No, I just picked Charlie up from daycare, and I’m heading home now.”
“Mommy, Mommy, ask him about my next meeting,” Charlie says, pulling on my arm.
“No,” I whisper-yell.
Charlie doesn’t whisper when he says, “Maybe he wants to come.”
“Charlie Clarke, I told you to stop it,” I reprimand in my best mom voice.
Bryce’s laugh echoes through the phone. “Let me talk to him,” he says.
Reluctantly, I hand the phone to Charlie, who takes it from me, putting it on speakerphone because he thinks he can hear calls better that way. “Hey, Bryce.”
“Hey, buddy. I’m honored you want me to go to your Boy Scouts meeting, but I’m planning on going away for a few days this week, so I have a lot of work to do at the office.”
Charlie lets out a grimace. “Oh, man. We’re having a scavenger hunt in the park. I was hoping we could be Batman and Superman and use our powers to crush the competition. We have to redeem ourselves from the veggie car loss.”
Bryce’s laugh booms. “I thought you were a good sport about that.”
Charlie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It was okay to lose. But I have to win at something!” He turns his back to me and whispers into the phone, “Between you and me, Mom is really bad at scavenger hunts. I need your help.”
“You do know your mom is Wonder Woman. I bet she’ll find everything on the list faster than I can,” Bryce says.
I love how he made me a superhero, too.
“Really?” Charlie yells and then looks up to me.
“Yeah. Your mom’s a badass,” Bryce says.
I quickly reprimand the language. He releases a deep laugh.
“Well, you have to take me to my sleepover at the Academy of Sciences. Promise, Bryce. Pretty please, promise!” Charlie bounces up and down, and my heart hurts that Bryce probably won’t be able to make it. An entire night devoted to watching my son? No phone or email for sixteen hours at least? There’s no way he’ll agree to that.
“I’m putting it on my calendar right now.” His answer shocks me. He grumbles something under his breath, obviously looking at all the things he’ll have to move around to make it happen.
“You don’t have to—” I start, but Charlie cuts me off.
“We need sleeping bags. And a flashlight. And I’m gonna get new pajamas. Mom has to pack my toothbrush. Do you need one, too? Oh, and snacks. I get hungry late at night.”
“Me, too, little man.” Bryce lowers his voice. “Since I have you on the phone, let me ask you since your mom is probably gonna say no. Do you want me to bring by some dinner tonight?”
“Are you going to bring me pot stickers again?” Charlie asks seriously.
Bryce lets out a hard laugh. “Is that what you want?”
“Of course that’s what I want.”
“Okay, Charlie, let me talk to Bryce,” I say, reaching for the phone.
“See you soon, Bryce,” Charlie holds up the phone, speaking directly into the end of it.
“See you soon, little man,” Bryce replies.
“You really don’t have to bring us dinner,” I say when I take the phone off of speakerphone and hold it up to my ear.
“But I want to,” he says, making me smile. “I have a meeting at six, and then I’ll be over. Is seven too late? I’ll have Brantley pick up the food while I’m in the meeting.”
“I can get the food. Don’t have your driver do it. It’s crazy enough to me that you have a driver, let alone someone who will fetch your food. I can get my own food.”
He sighs. “Brantley’s not just a driver. He’s … like family. He worked for my mom for years, and when his wife got sick, I offered him the job, so he could take his wife to treatments. If I have him pick up food, it’s more of a favor for him because he gets bored, waiting for me all day long. If it bothers you though, I’ll get the food myself.”
“That’s sweet. But, Bryce, you don’t have to defend your actions to me. Your life is so vastly different than my own. Don’t change the way you live your life on my behalf.”
“I don’t want you to change either.”
Blush runs up my face, and thankfully, Charlie distracts me when he yells, “Mommy! Can we rent a movie tonight?”
“Let me talk to Charlie again real quick,” Bryce says, his voice laced with enthusiasm.
I hand it back to Charlie, who places the call on speakerphone again. “Yeah?” he says, and I remind myself to teach him proper phone etiquette later.
“Tell me what you know about Power Rangers,” Bryce says.
“Park Rangers?” Charlie asks, confused.
“Your mom hasn’t taught you about Power Rangers?” Bryce is exasperated. “Wasn’t there a movie that came out last year? Let me guess; Henry Cavill wasn’t in it.”
Charlie looks at me for some kind of clarification, and I laugh, leaning down to talk into the phone. “Power Rangers aren’t my thing. They were before my time.”
“Maybe Tanner’s right; I am getting old.” Bryce’s comment makes me laugh even though I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Okay then, it’s a date. I have the entire collection. I’ll bring over the food and the first season, and we’ll have a movie night after dinner.”
“You have the entire collection of Power Rangers?” I can’t hide the laughter coming from my voice.
“Yes, I do,” he says with pride. “It’s a classic.”
“Old people use the word classic,” Charlie deadpans.
I cover my mouth to hold my laugh. I grab the phone from Charlie and say, “One episode after dinner, and then it’s bedtime.”
“Hurry, Bryce. The later you get to our house, the less she’ll let me watch!” Charlie says.
“I’ll see you soon, buddy.”
There’s a knock on the door, which sends Charlie into a frenzy. “Food’s here!”
“Charlie! You wait right there. You know you’re not allowed to open the door.”
I swing the door open. I give Bryce a what the fuck expression and then glance at my imaginary watch. It’s eight o’clock. He’s an hour late.
“Sorry,” he says, holding up the food. “I tried to get here as soon as I could, but it took longer to get out of my meeting. Then, of course, I hit every light on the way here. I’ve never been so frustrated with San Francisco traffic.”
Charlie appears at my hip to greet Bryce. “It’s okay. Mom gave me a snack when she got home, so I wouldn’t starve. Come in!” Charlie steps back, opening the door further.
When he walks through the door, he stops to kiss my cheek. It’s innocent enough. My uncle kisses me on the cheek. But there’s something about the way his stubble scratches my chin and that intense scent of cologne, soap, and hot-blooded man drifts off his skin that sends me into my own frenzy.
It almost makes me forget that I’m upset with him.
Almost.
“Who wants burritos?” he asks, getting a rise out of Charlie.
“Burritos? I thought you were getting Chinese.” His little face starts to pout.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. My bad. Who wants Chinese?” Bryce teases.
“I do,” Charlie yells and reaches for the bag.
Bryce’s face is filled with joy—until he looks at me. Based on the way his face falls, he must see I’m not thrilled with him.
“You’re late,” I say as I close the door.
His brows furrow, concerned. “I told you, I got caught up at work.”
“Bryce, Charlie’s five years old. He has a bedtime. Dinner at eight o’clock at night doesn’t work. And you promised him you’d watch television. He should be getting ready for bed right now. You can’t make plans for us and then break them without so much as a phone call. That’s not how things work around here.”
There’s a wrinkle
on his brow. It’s the one he gets when he’s mad, confused, and worried. I don’t know which he is right now. “Do you want me to leave?”
I open my mouth to explain further but close it and throw my hands up in annoyance.
At the table, I watch as Charlie stuffs his face with takeout at a time when he should be in bed. When Bryce sent me a text saying he’d be late, I didn’t think he’d be an hour late. One thing about being a single mom is, you can always rely on your own timeline. There’s no one around to throw you off. This whole experience is unsettling.
Charlie gives Bryce the entire rundown of his day. Mrs. O’Leary taught the kids about Vincent van Gogh and had them re-create the famous painting The Starry Night using beans. Charlie’s is currently hanging on my fridge, being held by four magnets because it’s the heaviest piece of art he’s ever created. It’s also messy, as beans keep falling to the ground.
While Bryce is paying attention to Charlie’s words, he keeps glancing my way. His knee is bouncing lightly under the table, and every once in a while, he runs a hand over his temple.
I ignore him and eat my dinner in silence.
Once dinner is over, Charlie pulls Bryce into the living room. I busy myself by pouring a glass of white zinfandel and cleaning the kitchen, all while listening in on their conversation.
“The Power Rangers are teenagers who are given the ability to transform into a fighting force,” Bryce explains.
“How did they get their powers?”
“An alien, Zordon, gave it to them to defeat his nemesis, Rita Repulsa.”
“What kind of powers do they have?”
“They turn into dinosaurs.”
“Cool,” Charlie sings.
As I’m putting the leftovers away, I hear Charlie say, “This show looks so old!”
I nearly spit out my sip of wine I took.
Bryce responds, “This was high tech when I was your age. I used to watch it with my dad, and he couldn’t get over how incredible the graphics were.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him mention his father.
