Forgetting Chuck Taylor

by Bailey Peters

  “This is too much,” Mr. Casey said.

  “All we ask is that you enjoy it.”

  From there, Erica and her helpers headed back to the kitchen. Inside, Amanda’s husband-to-be greeted them.

  “These beauties are ready for you,” he said, handing Erica a basket full of bread— an assortment of rolls covered in herbs and cheeses that made Taylor’s mouth water. He must have sensed her hunger, because he tossed both her and Eva an extra from a bowl sitting on the counter behind them.

  “Didn’t want you two to be left out,” he said, winking.

  “Thank you,” Taylor said, bringing the roll up to her lips.

  “Amanda is right,” Eva smiled. “You’re the best. No contest.”

  “How else would I have snagged her?”

  * * *

  The rest of the meal went off without a hitch. The couple dined on smoked Gouda grit cakes, rosemary lamb chops in a white wine sauce, and spinach salads lightly tossed in a homemade chipotle vinaigrette. When their daughter returned to the kitchen after taking them their dessert—a decadent cannoli cheesecake plated with a drizzle of chocolate sauce and strawberries—it was with a report that the couple had been laughing together and clearly enjoying themselves.

  “It looks like my work is done, then,” Jamison said, pulling his apron over his head. “Thank you for a memorable night, ladies.”

  Taylor slipped an envelope of cash out of her purse and extended it to Jamison. “No, thank you for all your help.”

  When he shook his head to decline it, she was relieved. “On the house. Just promise the next time you want to have a nice meal out, you make it at my restaurant.”

  “You’ve got it,” she said.

  While Erica’s parents danced cheek-to-cheek in the gym, Erica went to work cleaning the kitchen. Knowing it would take her at least a good ten minutes to wash and dry the dishes—longer if she could count on the teen to be distracted by her cell phone—Taylor decided to make the most of the moment.

  “Come with me,” Taylor said, grabbing Eva’s hand and pulling her out to the front hallway area of the community center. There, they could both hear the music inside without being seen by anyone in the gym or the kitchen.

  “May I have this dance?” she asked, smiling hopefully at Eva.

  Eva wrapped her arms around Taylor’s neck, and Taylor looped hers around Eva’s slender waist, pulling her closer. Eva responded by resting her head on Taylor’s shoulder. The two women swayed back and forth together as Celine Dion sang over the speakers.

  “Can I make a confession?” Eva asked.

  “Be my guest.”

  “I’ve taken more dancing lessons than I’d care to count thanks to my debutante days, but I only know how to follow, not lead. There are a lot of gender roles that need to be deprogrammed right out of me.”

  “We can make our own rules,” Taylor said. “If it makes you feel any better, you could do absolutely anything you wanted on the dance floor and you’d look like an expert to me. I’m just trying not to step on your feet.”

  “Here’s our first rule: no more Celine Dion.”

  “What kind of wedding planner doesn’t like Celine Dion?”

  “This one,” Eva said, nuzzling her face against Taylor’s neck.

  11

  Eva

  Eva could run a 5K in 17 minutes, beautifully execute the foxtrot, and religiously completed enough sit ups and squats on a weekly basis that her abs and her butt maintained the kind of gentle definition most women envied. While she was perfectly confident making use of her body, she was completely out of her element in the boxing ring. The sharp motions required for jabs were the antithesis of the gentle grace her dance training taught her to radiate.

  Boxing was a thing she knew Taylor loved. After they had cleaned up the gym from the Casey family’s dinner at the community center, she had begged Taylor to show off some of her moves until Taylor climbed through the ropes to oblige her. While Taylor might not be able to dance, it had been evident that night she had plenty of rhythm and the kind of control over her body the most disciplined of dancers exemplified.

  It had seemed like a good idea to sign up for boxing lessons, thinking perhaps she could eventually get in the ring across from Taylor and surprise her—maybe one day even help with boxing lessons in the ring. Twenty minutes into her first lesson, the idea seemed ridiculous. Her attempts at a jab were pitiful and her body seemed incapable of remaining in the boxing stance, no matter how many times the instructor readjusted her posture.

  This is what I get for coming to class exhausted , Eva thought. She’d been up too late the night before, texting back and forth with Taylor. They’d developed a game: one of them would text the other person a line of text from a book they loved and the other person would have to try to correctly identify the novel without cheating and looking it up. As the night progressed, the lines had gone from literary to absurd to scandalous as Eva smiled into the light of her phone’s screen. She hadn’t wanted to say goodnight.

  She cursed herself a second time when she started the trek back home to shower and get ready for the day. She should have brought her car with her, but instead had been sure she’d be so amped up on adrenaline after her first lesson that she’d want to jog the three miles back to her house. She had been wrong. That assumption had been made prior to discovering that before her coach would start to train her on boxing moves, he’d make her go through a slew of box jumps and burpees. Between those and her introduction to high kicks, every muscle in her legs had felt the burn before it was even seven o’clock in the morning. It was no wonder Taylor had great legs.

  At the very least, the views on her way home were different than they were on her regular morning runs. Downtown Raleigh was beautiful when the world was still waking up, the pink and orange hues of sunrise looming large above the skyscrapers. Eva had lived there her whole life, but it still somehow managed to take her breath away on occasion.

  Only blocks from her house, a new coffee shop caught her eye. A chai latte seemed like a fitting self-reward for her workout. To finish strong, she pushed herself to sprint as fast as she could until she got to the front door, knowing she wouldn’t want to run again after the warm liquid was sloshing in her stomach.

  That’s when her foot snagged on an uneven slab of sidewalk, sending her flying onto the pavement. She threw her arms out in front of her to break her fall, afraid for any part of her head to hit the concrete. The price she paid for saving her face was immediate and painful—the snap of her wrist as her body weight landed on it at a precarious angle. That and an angry strip of road rash against her arm left her screaming a string of words the mothers of her brides would be appalled to hear coming out of her glossed lips, usually so professional and ladylike.

  Hearing her wail, the owner of the shop she’d crashed in front of ran outside to aid her. “You okay, love?”

  “I just need a second to steady myself,” she said, staring down at the unnatural bent of her wrist, fighting nausea at the sight of bone protruding ever so slightly from her skin. She knew she needed help, but she wasn’t quite ready to rouse herself from her heap on the sidewalk yet. Movement inevitably meant more pain.

  “Can I call an ambulance for you?”

  “Too expensive,” she said. “If I give you his number, could you call my father?”

  * * *

  She’d been a daddy’s girl her whole life. Gregory Perry had been a doting parent, religiously carving time out for father-daughter dates every month and making her equestrian competitions every chance he could. As the owner of a boutique law firm and a deacon at their church, his schedule had always been tight, but when they spent time together he had always made sure she knew his attention was solely hers. He was why she had wanted to become an entrepreneur. He’d taught her to believe that just like she could take her horse’s reins and lead him to success in a race, she could take the reins of her own life and fly.

  His advice was cheesy, but whe
n she needed inspiration, it got the job done.

  She wondered what his advice would be for her now.

  When she emerged from the ER with her wrist patched up in a cast, her father suggested they get lunch together. “Your schedule for the day is already out of whack—why don’t we salvage what we can of the day and make some part of it better?”

  She could think of a thousand things that she needed to do at the office, but she couldn’t refuse her father. He’d come to her rescue, after all. That, and as soon as he had retired, her business had started going full speed ahead. They lived in the same city but sometimes went too long without spending any real time together.

  They never discussed where to eat, and instead went straight to their favorite haunt. It was Tuesday, which meant two-for-one hot dogs at Snoopy’s. Her father placed the order: two combos loaded up with chili, onion, and mustard with malt shakes. While he procured the food, she snagged them a picnic table in the sun. In a matter of weeks, it would be too cold to eat outside. She wanted to enjoy the waning warmth while she still could.

  When he was done grilling her about what she needed to do for wound care and whether or not she would need a follow up with an orthopedic specialist, she decided it was time to redirect the conversation. Now or never, she thought. Take the reins.

  “Did you do a lot of dating before you met mom?” she asked

  His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I always thought I’d spare you the details of my playboy days, but I may have broken a heart or two before I decided to pursue your mother’s. If she had met me when we were a few years younger, I don’t think she’d have cared for me much.”

  “So you were like the boys you always warned me about?”

  “That’s why I took my sworn duties to scare them away so seriously.” He took a slurp of his milkshake. “Not that you would have suffered anyone’s foolishness regardless.”

  She nodded. There was no question about that. Between taking care of her horse, student government, church and being an honors student, she wouldn’t have had much spare time left over to date even if she had wanted to.

  “So how did you know when it was time to get serious about mom?”

  She’d heard the story before a thousand times, but it never got old for her. He’d been out dancing with friends at a country western bar when he saw a beautiful redhead trying her damnedest to stay atop the mechanical bull her friends had dared her to ride. She’d lasted less than a minute before being flung onto the padded floor below. She’d stood up, yanked the hem of her dress to where it belonged, and adjusted her pearls and her feathered hair so that they were back to their original, more dignified state. Then she’d stormed out of the bar.

  When he followed her out into the lot, his voice had stopped her. “That was quite a performance you put on in there.”

  “I’m rushing a sorority and they seemed to think that would be a good way to publicly mortify me,” she said, “telling me to show up in a sundress and then telling me to do something that would make it near impossible to keep it on.”

  “I don’t suppose it would make you feel better to know you’re cute when you’re mad,” he’d said.

  “I don’t take compliments from condescending asses,” was her response.

  The next day, he’d just happened to be behind her in the line to register for classes. This was before the days of being able to do it online. Instead, you had to fight the masses to get a one-on-one appointment with an advisor that did everything for you manually. He’d used up the last free elective of his senior year to take a women’s literature class after he overheard her signing up for it. By midterms, he’d won her over.

  “Well,” her father answered, “I met a woman that I wanted to fight for despite not having any idea why. I found her completely and utterly captivating.”

  “Was she what you pictured?”

  “My imagination wasn’t that good.” He gave her a wink before wolfing down the last of his hot dog. Despite being ravenous from her skipped breakfast and strenuous workout, she’d barely touched hers.

  “I met someone, dad,” Eva said.

  Her father threw up his hands the same way he did when the Carolina Panthers made a touchdown, jumped out of his seat, and ran a victory lap around the picnic table while waving his arms like a lunatic.

  Her face reddened, realizing the other customers probably thought her father was a nut. For all his carrying on, it looked like he was the one out of the two of them that would have been hopped up on pain medication—not her.

  Then he sat back down again and squeezed her hand across the table.

  “You didn’t give me enough chances to embarrass you when you were a teenager, so I had to get it out of my system. I’m so happy for you, honey. I know that when you’re holding out for a good one, it can feel like that person is never coming.”

  “It was like you’d said it would be. The first meeting, it just hit me.”

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  She took a deep breath and stalled for time by filling her mouth with crinkle cut fries, chewing deliberately.

  “You can meet her any time you want to,” Eva finally said, thinking that sooner would be better. The less time there was before they met, the less time she had to agonize about it and the less time her parents would have to do things like Google Taylor.

  Her dad didn’t skip a beat at the unexpected pronoun. “You know that song Garth Brooks sings about unanswered prayers?” He asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “You always talked about how when you finally brought a man home it would be some scruffy guy in Chuck Taylors. You’re too perpetually overdressed for someone like that. All I need to know is that this woman is good to you and what she likes to eat so that your mom can make it for dinner.”

  She switched sides of the picnic table and wrapped her uninjured arm around her father, leaning in for a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He squeezed her tight and kissed her on top of the head. “I love you, sugar.”

  Despite all of the pain still screaming through her from the morning’s injury, her body flooded with relief.

  * * *

  On a regular business day, Eva wasn’t hampered much by her broken wrist. Client meetings, vendor negotiations, and paperwork went on as usual.

  What gave Eva cause for concern was Amanda’s wedding. It was only days away and there was absolutely no way that Eva was going to be able to haul around boxes of decorations, arrange tablecloths and centerpieces, or do any of the manual labor involved in making sure the day went off without a hitch. To further complicate things, the weekend of Amanda’s wedding fell during Fall break at her Alma mater, which meant that the college students that sometimes picked up hourly work with her for events and special projects were all planning to be out of town for vacation. In a pinch, her parents had lent her an extra hand once or twice, but they were scheduled for a couple’s retreat with their church. She knew that if she was truly desperate they’d step in and save the day, but she didn’t want to ask them to cancel plans she knew they’d been looking forward to for months.

  Eva also knew she couldn’t afford to let Amanda down. The thought of putting an ad on Craigslist for last minute help from someone she hadn’t seen in action before or properly vetted was definitely not something she was willing to risk. She wanted everything to be perfect for her friend.

  The answer seemed obvious. She’d already seen Taylor and Erica pull off an event to remember. If they did it before, they could do it again. It would mean money for both of them and a positive reference if they took her up on the opportunity.

  She got out her phone to text Taylor. What are your plans this weekend, gorgeous?

  It was Wednesday, Taylor’s busy day, so she was surprised to get a fast response. Spending time with you, I hope.

  Eva grinned. That’s what she’d wanted to hear.

  12

  Taylor

  The thought of taking money from Eva put a sour taste i
n Taylor’s mouth, no matter how well she knew the offer was intended. While having an extra hundred bucks in her checking account would go a long way in helping pay off the textbooks that were accruing interest on her credit card, it would also mean putting power dynamics into play that she didn’t particularly care for. That’s why she’d joked that she was Eva’s girlfriend and not her employee, which meant she could be bribed in kisses or brownie points but wouldn’t be accepting any other payment.

  Girlfriend, huh? I like the sound of that had been Eva’s response.

  When Friday night rolled around, Taylor picked Erica up from her apartment complex and took her to the event hall at Eva’s Alma mater. When they pulled up, Eva was waiting for them in the parking lot.

  “Nice creeper van,” Erica said as way of greeting to Eva. “How many kids have you kidnapped in that thing?”

  Eva laughed. “My ride definitely isn’t glamorous, but it does the trick for lugging around equipment. Now I just need your help getting it from my creeper van to where it needs to go.”

  Taylor flexed her biceps and flashed a smile. “At your service, my lady.”

  Erica rolled her eyes and opened the double doors at the back of the van to load up her arms with a box of supplies. Eva pointed her in the right direction.

  As soon as Erica was out of earshot, Eva scanned the parking lot to make sure they were alone and then slid her good hand through Taylor’s hair, pulling her in by the back of her head for a kiss.

  “A snapshot of what to expect later,” she teased.

  “Then I guess I better start hustling.”

  * * *

  The work wasn’t difficult, but Eva was particular about the tiniest of details, which meant finishing up took them far longer than Taylor expected that it would.