He stoops over and yells in my ear, “Claire, I have never experienced such a deafening spectacle. I know you like this music, but I have to go.”
I take his hand and lead him downstairs, near the restrooms, so I can hear him. Just as I start to speak the music stops and Brandon says they’ll be back in a few. The DJ starts playing the usual hip hop band break music, and I know that is not going to help Nathan’s mood.
“I’m sorry, I should have known you would hate this.” I fold my arms and look at my feet.
“That’s not even the point. How could you like this? Don’t you see you are standing in the midst of juvenile, uneducated twits? They’re pushing and shoving, and some moron spilled beer on my shoes. Beer, Claire! As if it isn’t bad enough, I had to throw away a perfectly good pair of expensive shoes because of dog shit!”
The hordes of people on the way to the restroom are beginning to stare and my face is on fire, both from the heat in the bar and the humiliation.
“We can go if you want. I just thought—”
“You didn’t think. But I blame myself—I should have realized what a den of debauchery we were entering, and what low class people this horrible music would attract.”
I’m not sure which part of that they heard, but the band has just filed by on their way to the restroom. Great. Brandon looks at Nathan and back at me, and disappears into the mens’ room.
“It isn’t the music, it’s just a young crowd and—”
“And why is that, Claire? Because all of these young idiots have no taste in music or anything else. They drink cheap crap beer and gyrate all over the place to blaring noise and their clothes are hideous! Your friend was wearing red boots. She looks like a hooker!”
Brandon appears at the door of the mens’ room and suppresses a smile. I know he’s laughing at Nathan’s clothes, and the irony of his tirade. Brandon looks anything but hideous in his black jeans, biker boots and Chain t-shirt. Standing behind Nathan, his expression softens when he sees the tears forming in my eyes.
Before I get a chance to respond, Nathan says, “I’m leaving, Claire. Obviously you enjoy this nonsense and you won’t have a problem getting this guy or any one of these other idiots to drive you home!” He storms out the back door and leaves me standing here with Brandon, who was obviously unsuccessful in concealing his presence, based on that remark.
“Are you okay?” Brandon tries to grab my arms to pull me into a hug, but I resist.
“He’s just cranky because he’s been working so much, and one of his patients died this week. I shouldn’t have brought him here.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands. Brandon goes back into the mens’ room to retrieve a wad of toilet paper for my tear stained face and runny nose.
“Do you want someone to bring you home? I can’t do it right now, but I’m sure someone would be willing.” When I don’t respond he lowers his voice, “Hey, Claire.” He touches my chin like he did that night at Jane and Mike’s house, and the tears start flowing harder. “He was out of line. Look at me. That guy is a jerk, Claire. I don’t care if he’s a doctor or the President. He has no right to talk to you like that, or to insult everyone in this bar.”
I let him hug me now and it feels good to get some comfort. I excuse myself to the ladies’ room so I can fix my makeup. There’s no point in trying to defend Nathan any further. “Thanks, Brandon.” I turn around at the door and add, “You guys sound great, by the way.” I manage a slight smile.
“Thanks. I’ll drive you home later. Just lay off the booze—we don’t need a repeat performance of last week.” He looks at my feet, presumably to see if my shoes are still firmly attached to them.
I find Bianca and the girls so I can immerse myself in mindless chatter, and shake off thoughts of that humiliating episode. I am not going to drink, and Brandon and I will have an uneventful ride home. I don’t like the things he said about Nathan, but his behavior was inexcusable. I expect an apology tomorrow.
The band returns to the stage for two more sets, with another break in between, before we can leave. I was being sarcastic when I said us old people need to get home, but I feel that way now. My head hurts and my feet are aching—there’s definitely a blister forming. Nathan was right in some ways—this is juvenile behavior.
Brandon says good night to the band while I wait for him at the door. I stare out into the parking lot at the few remaining cars. Tears prick the corners of my eyes again, and I swiftly wipe them away before Brandon appears. If it wasn’t for waterproof eye makeup I would look like an extra in a Zombie movie. Except none of my flesh is chewed off, but I still look pretty bad. I catch my reflection in the glass doors, and the distorted appearance makes me look ridiculous in my glittery tight shirt and jeans—like a caricature of a young blonde band groupie, but with an old, puffy face.
“You ready?” Brandon has his bag slung over this shoulder. He is wearing different clothes and his hair looks wet. I guess he did get pretty sweaty up on stage.
“Yep, let’s go.” He tries to catch my eye, but I look away.
We get in the car and Brandon sighs. “Claire, I’m sorry I got so angry before but I just hate to see you treated that way.”
“Your concern is touching, but I really don’t need it. I told you—it was my fault for asking him to come. He isn’t in the right frame of mind.”
“I know, his patient died. I just don’t see that as an excuse to act that way. He’s a heart doctor. Lots of his patients will die over the years. Is that the kind of man you want around in a crisis? Bad things happen sometimes, and you need a guy who can weather them, and not take his frustrations out on you.” He is staring straight into my eyes.
I sigh and lay my head back against the seat. Quietly, tears start rolling down my cheeks. My hands are resting on my lap, and before I can react, Brandon puts his hand over mine, and starts rubbing it. The touch is breathtaking, and for a second I forget where I am and what’s happening. In that second Brandon leans across the seat. He raises my chin again and gives me the softest kiss. I feel the warm, wet inner flesh of his mouth, in contrast with his lips, slightly chapped from hours of singing in the steamy bar. The stubble on his face grazes my skin. I return his kiss and let my body take over from my weary brain.
As his hand moves a bit further up my leg, I snap out of my trance. I pull back. “Brandon, stop.”
He recoils, looking bewildered and wounded. “Why? Claire, you know this is right.”
I turn so my back is facing the door, as far away from him as possible, without getting out and facing a deserted parking lot at two in the morning.
“I’m in a relationship and I have not given you any indication that I wanted that!” My eyes are wide and darting all over the car.
Brandon slams the steering wheel. “That is complete bullshit and you know it! We have had an undeniable chemistry between us since day one. What is your problem? I am not that arrogant to think every woman wants me, but I am not some stupid kid, contrary to what you and your boyfriend seem to think.”
“Nathan is a good man and...damn it, I can’t be with someone like you!” I pound my fists on my thighs and curse myself for getting stuck in this confrontational situation.
He glares at me and says, “Claire, are you or are you not attracted to me? And I don’t just mean do you like the way I look. Do you feel what I feel?”
“I told you it doesn’t matter! You are too young for me, and before you dispute that again—I am not ending up with a man who wants children and I can’t have them, and then he leaves me for a younger woman. And I am not adopting any babies and letting their real mothers see them—that’s all insane! I have been through enough pain and disappointment, and I am not fucking doing that!” I am bawling again, and bury my head in my hands.
“Claire, you don’t know anything about what I want or don’t want. You don’t even ask me. You just jump to the worst possible conclusion. You think you know everything and I am some young guy who just wants to use the olde
r woman. You’re reading way too many Hollywood gossip magazines.”
“Look what happened to Demi Moore once Ashton grew up!”
He turns to face me again and gets closer to my face. His hand moves towards my chin but my flinching stops him from touching me. “Claire, you are beautiful and sexy and funny and smart and I—”
“It doesn’t matter! It can never be! You should not be toying with me like this. You need to find a young girl who can give you a family, on your timetable. I overheard you the other night—I know that’s what you want.” Who doesn’t want to be a dad, right?
He retreats back to his corner. He starts the car and backs out of the parking spot, headed for the exit. I buckle my seatbelt and take a few deep breaths. The silence is worse than the yelling.
As we pull into our neighborhood, he finally speaks. “I give up. I am not going to beg you to be with me, to trust me. I just hope you dump this guy because he is not a good person.” I look up and he quietly adds, “And you are, Claire.”
He stops the car and this time he is the one who looks away. I touch his arm and he shakes off my hand. “Just go.”
I grab my purse, jump out of the car and slam the door. I am hysterical by the time I get inside and grab Dixie for comfort. She licks my face, but wiggles too much for me to hold her.
As I pull myself together to take her out for her late night potty run, I see Nathan’s computer on my kitchen table. Of course he couldn’t retrieve it—he doesn’t have a key to my house and he obviously headed straight home. I could Google him—maybe I could erase the search and he wouldn’t know I did it, but I don’t remember how to do that. I could use my phone, but do I really want to know anymore? What a mess I have gotten myself into.
Back in the kitchen a few minutes later I open up the laptop and see that he is still signed in. That’s odd—doesn’t he have a login password? He is not a good person. And you are, Claire. I start typing and right before I hit search my phone scares the crap out of me. The shrill beeping is magnified in the tranquil, silent house. My heart is pounding. I abandon my search and reach for my phone to see who is texting me. I am not talking to Brandon anymore tonight. He has some nerve.
In my haste, I knock the phone off the table, onto the floor. I walk over to the corner it sailed into, and sit down on the cold tile. Dixie runs to me and I finally check the message. My stomach drops and I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, lowering my head and hugging Dixie. It isn’t Brandon. I am not going to beg you to be with me. He’s given up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
It rains for the next three days, which matches my mood. Nathan’s heartfelt apology interrupted my act of espionage, and diverted my attention. He drove all the way back to my house, full of apologies and self-recriminations. He even brought flowers. Where the hell do you get flowers in the middle of the night?
He told me that he knows I’m the one and he’s so afraid that he’s blowing it. He said he wants us to go on a trip before the work convention, just the two of us. He kept talking about our future and how he knows we belong together—he even hinted at marriage again. He said his house is almost ready, and soon I can just come live with him. A promising prospect since I would never have to face Brandon again.
It should have made me feel better, but I just wanted to fall asleep and wake up in high school the day I met Ron, before everything went wrong and things got so messed up. I would have picked a different seat in English class. I’ve felt this way before, but who knows if my alternate reality would have been any better. Maybe I would have met a worse guy on the way home from school or at a party that weekend, or many years later. Maybe I would still be single, but with my fertility untested, and I might not know I could never be a mother. I would still have a shred of hope.
We slept in the same bed for a couple of hours again, but once again he was gone in the morning. He left a sweet note, but I don’t understand how golf is more important than spending the day with me. Maybe he was still embarrassed by his behavior.
On Wednesday, Pam lets me know that they have signed another promising young author and they want to have a party to celebrate the launch of a new line of literary fiction. Her team is going to handle the details but she wanted to thank me again for finding Brandon and operating outside of my job description.
“This was good work, Claire. You should consider getting out of HR and coming over to our side. Talk to Tim.” I hung up feeling good about myself for five seconds before it hit me. A fucking party where I will have to bring Nathan as my date and Brandon will be one of the guests of honor. Pam will probably even publicly acknowledge me for finding him. Where’s a good case of strep throat now? Actually I need something stronger than that, like malaria or ebola.
“Hey, did you hear about this big party we’re having? All the industry hot shots will be there. Do you want to come dress shopping with me?” Rebecca stands in my door way, tilting her head to the side as she studies my blank expression. “What?”
“Close the door.”
“What now?” She heaves herself onto my guest chair and slowly lets out her breath in preparation for the latest bombshell.
I proceed to tell her what Betty shared with me.
“What? Sexual misconduct? Holy shit, Claire! And you bought his excuse? What am I going to do with you?” She rubs her face with her hands so firmly her eyeballs almost pop out.
“If he was guilty surely he would have been charged. Or at least lost his medical license, if not arrested. What do you think—he paid off his victims?”
Rebecca purses her lips and looks away.
“Rebecca?”
“I’m sorry, but the crap you told me the night before was bad enough—acting like an asshole and leaving you at the bar. I don’t get it. Are you really in love with this guy?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I believe in love.” I collapse back in my chair.
“That’s a cop out, Claire.”
“I mean it. Love is a big asshole! I just want to find some peace and security.”
“Even if you are willing to settle for that, I still don’t think he can deliver. Since you met him you are sleeping less, drinking more again, and you are completely distracted at work. These are not signs of peace and security. And he may actually be a sexual predator! This is serious shit!”
“I just wanted someone safe who won’t abandon me.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Rebecca folds her arms across her chest and frowns. “Nothing about this guy seems safe.”
I study my fingernails. The polish is chipping. “I need to think. I know you mean well, Rebecca, but this is complicated.”
She offers me a forlorn smile and sighs. “Okay, lecture over. Let’s talk about what you’re wearing to the party.”
“The fucking party—like that’s a better topic. I can’t believe I have to face Brandon with Nathan. I could go alone, but that’ll leave me even more exposed and vulnerable.”
“I don’t think you need protection from Brandon.” She raises her eyebrows. “Or do you need protection from yourself when he’s around?”
My nostrils flare and I breathe in, trying to fill my lungs with patience. “I saw a girl at Brandon’s yesterday. The car has been there a lot. He probably decided to start dating one of his groupies, and that’s fine by me. He’s nothing but trouble.” Rebecca’s eyes widen and I quickly add, “It’s a different kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.”
Rebecca stands up and straightens her skirt. “I have to run, I have a meeting in five minutes. I’ll be there if you need someone to help you hide from the asshole men. Speaking of men, I met a new guy and I’m bringing him to the party.”
I finally have a reason to smile. “That’s awesome. Did you meet him in the singles group?”
“Yep. At the wine tasting last week. He was funny. He kept imitating the serious wine connoisseurs and making me laugh. He’s a college professor. Lost his wife about a year ago.�
��
I wince. “Lost, as in she died? You don’t normally date widowers. Do you really want to go down that path?”
“I would usually run, just like you would from a guy with dreams of spreading his seed, but Steve is different. I have to see where this goes.”
I narrow my eyes at the seed comment, but say, “I can’t wait to meet him.”
Rebecca gives me a few more gossipy details about her new love interest and heads off to her meeting. What am I going to do about this party? And everything else? Love really is an asshole, but I hope for Rebecca’s sake it doesn’t have to be that way. One of us needs to end up with our Prince Charming. Or at least avoid the slimiest toads.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The following Friday comes way too soon. I have spent the week largely hiding in my house—I wish I had trained Dixie to use puppy pads, but at least I have a backyard.
That girl’s car has been in Brandon’s driveway most of the week—it looks like she’s moved in. So much for all of his feelings for me. She looks young, definitely younger than Brandon. She has a ballerina’s body—I saw her jogging the other day. Jogging! That made me want to throw up, as if her flowing chestnut brown hair and long legs weren’t enough to make me lose my lunch. She jogs! Lately I can barely muster up the energy to get the mail or bring up the trash can.
Nathan has been sheepish and apologetic, which is a big switch from his usual persona. Supposedly, he wants me to come to his house to see the renovations, which are almost done, but we’re doing that tomorrow night. Tonight he is coming to my house to get ready for the party, since he’s working at St. Vincent’s.
It’s Friday night, and I’m all dressed and ready to go (I am always early when I’m anxious), and Nathan arrives from the hospital in a harried state.
“I shouldn’t have even agreed to do this with you—I’m going to make you late.” He rushes in and drops his bags on the kitchen floor. “You look beautiful, Claire.” He takes in my satin, emerald green halter dress and kisses me on the forehead. He grabs his suitcase and heads up the stairs. “I’m just going to take a quick shower and change, and then we’re off. They have food at this thing, right?” His voice disappears up the stairs with the rest of him before I can answer.
There Are No Men Page 31
