Emerald

by Elle Casey

  “You want to get a cab?” he asks.

  “How far are we from the apartment?”

  He shrugs. “A few blocks. I’m not sure, exactly.”

  I’m loath for the evening to end too quickly. “Let’s walk. I still have some energy left to work off.”

  We start moving. “Yeah, me too,” Sam says. “Which is weird, because I was really tired a little while ago.”

  “I guess the anchovies are kicking in.”

  “Are you bagging on my anchovies, young lady?”

  I smile, my face going warm. “No, I liked the anchovies. It’s the first time I’ve ever eaten them, though. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do it, but it wasn’t bad at all.”

  “You’ve never eaten an anchovy before? Man . . . Is life on the farm a little too tame, maybe?”

  “Hey. I’ve eaten a lot of not tame things on the farm. I’ll bet I’ve eaten a lot of things you’ve never tried.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Calf balls.”

  He laughs, but when he realizes I’m not laughing with him, he stops. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug, now worried I sound like a complete lunatic. “We have to castrate the male calves, or they become full-grown bulls and way too aggressive. And you’ve gotta do something with their balls, so . . .”

  “Couldn’t you just throw them away?”

  “Sure we could, but they’re edible, so why not eat them?”

  “Yeah, okay. Why not. I guess.”

  Maybe my life isn’t so tame after all. I’m no longer embarrassed. Why should I be? I live my life by a set of rules, and they’re good ones. I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “No. I think you’re adventurous.”

  I have to laugh at that.

  “You don’t believe me?” he asks.

  “No, not at all. But I appreciate you trying to fake it.”

  “No, man, I’m not faking it. You are adventurous.”

  “Because I eat balls.”

  “Well, yeah.” He chuckles. “But also because you live in this different kind of community with an alternative lifestyle, sharing your home with total strangers, being close to the animals you eat. That’s cool. And adventurous, too. Not a lot of people would do what you do.”

  I feel like he’s giving me credit I don’t deserve. “It’s not like I have a choice. It’s my mothers’ place. I just live there.”

  “Yeah, but you’re twenty-five; I mean, you could have left, but you stayed because it’s a good life. You probably don’t see it as being very wild because it’s what you’re used to; but trust me . . . it is. Where I live, we only eat out, and there’s never anything like calf balls on the menu. Sushi is about as crazy as it gets. We lock our doors and we don’t talk to strangers much. In fact, people never even go outside and walk around.”

  “What do you mean, they don’t walk around?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard that song ‘Walking in LA’ by Missing Persons?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it was from back in the eighties, so it was before our time. But it’s pretty accurate. It’s really hot, and everybody just drives when they need to go somewhere. The traffic is ridiculous.”

  “Oh. Well, things are probably pretty spread out there, right? Car travel is probably necessary.”

  “Yeah, it is. Not like your place. Anyway, maybe someday you can show me how the other half lives.” He looks at me for a second and then goes back to staring straight ahead.

  “I’d be happy to. You’re welcome on the farm anytime.”

  That’s the last of our conversation before we reach the apartment. I spend the entire trip back imagining Sam at Glenhollow, staying in my home. I think he might like it, and I’m pretty certain I’d like having him there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  We make it on to the elevator without a problem. They have pictures of Sam and me at the front desk, so even though it’s different people working there at this time of night, we have no issues with getting access. Sam uses his card key to get us up to Amber’s floor. The doors open, and we step off the elevator, and then we stand there looking around the foyer together.

  “I don’t know what my brother was thinking with this stuff.” Sam is shaking his head at the decor.

  “I don’t think either one of our siblings pays much attention to their surroundings. They were probably just looking for an apartment that was private and protected, and this place came already decorated like this.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Our easy camaraderie slips away and leaves us with another awkward moment. I try to smile, but the expression feels stiff on my face, so I stop.

  “So . . . ,” I say, hoping more words will follow. Unfortunately, they don’t. And now I know what it means when people say silence can be deafening.

  “Yeah, so, thanks for hanging with me.” Sam holds his hand out.

  I look down at it, not knowing what I’m supposed to do. Does he want to shake hands? It feels like he’s making a declaration . . . something like: Don’t think anything actually happened between us; we’re just acquaintances, nothing else.

  His arm drops to his side. “Sorry. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” He runs his fingers through his hair, obviously nervous.

  “We can shake hands if you want.” I shrug, almost happy to know that he’s feeling and acting as off-kilter as I am.

  He shakes his head and lets out a long breath, looking at the floor. “I have no idea what’s going on with me. To be honest, I feel completely out of my element. This is not normal for me.” He looks up, his eyes dark and his stare intense.

  I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking. For the first time in my life I can read someone else’s thoughts, and it’s exhilarating. He’s wondering what’s going on between us; he has to be. I can’t be dreaming all of this up . . . this connection we have . . . this desire to be in each other’s company. We shared a lot tonight, and while I still don’t know him that well, I’m almost positive he doesn’t tell many other people what he told me tonight. He’s a private person, like I am—but with each other, we open up.

  “We could hug it out if you prefer,” I say, hoping I can ease his discomfort with a little silliness. “We do a lot of hugging back at my house. I’m a pro.”

  The grin is slow to spread across his face, but when it does, it lights up the entire room. “I could definitely deal with a hug.” He holds his arms out, the plastic bag holding our costumes hanging from one of his hands.

  I take two steps toward him and walk into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his waist. His strong arms encircle my back and pull me in. Damn. Our bodies are touching from knees to shoulders, and this could very well be the best hug I’ve ever had in my entire life.

  I’m holding my breath at first. When I finally let it out, I collapse in a little and he holds me tighter. Our bodies meld together, all heat and softness. He smells so good, like a combination of fresh air, cologne, pizza, and laundry soap. There’s something else there too—the scent of a man. I try not to be obvious about inhaling it like a drug.

  “This is way better than a handshake,” he says into my neck, making goose bumps rise up my arm and leg.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  The hug should probably be over by now, but I can’t let go. I don’t want to. I’m going to let him decide when it’s time for it to end. This feels too good, and it’s been so long since anyone has held me like this.

  “Is this weird?” he asks a few seconds later.

  “I don’t think so.” Maybe somebody else watching us would think we were strange, and maybe if it were anybody else with his arms around me, it would be, but with him it feels totally right.

  “Good. I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

  “They won’t be,” I say, hoping with everything in me that I’m speaking the truth.

  “How do you know?” he asks i
n a soft voice.

  “Because.” I speak with a confidence I don’t necessarily feel. “I’m a hippie chick, remember? We give free hugs all the time. I’m a hugging expert. And anything goes with hippie chicks.”

  He chuckles deep in his chest. “That’s good to know.”

  I realize then that he took what I said in a sexual way. “Well . . . not just anything. That’s not what I meant.”

  He laughs harder. “Sure it isn’t.”

  I pull away a little and look up at him. “Seriously. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  He leans back but doesn’t let go. We’re left standing in each other’s arms, and it’s very intimate. His face is mere inches away, his beard occasionally touching my chin and tickling me.

  “I know you’re not that kind of girl, Emerald.”

  I love the sound of my name coming from his mouth. And maybe I’m just imagining things, but there seems to be a special meaning in his words. I’m not sure I quite understand them, though.

  “What kind of girl are you talking about?” I ask, not quite believing I have the audacity to do it. Being with Sam makes me braver.

  He looks like he’s trying not to grin. “I don’t know. What kind of girl are you talking about?”

  Now he’s starting to frustrate me. “Would you stop teasing me?”

  “I’m not teasing you.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “I call it flirting.”

  Heat flashes up from my neck and goes straight to my forehead. My words come out almost as a whisper. “You’re flirting with me?”

  “Wasn’t it obvious?”

  “Maybe. But I wasn’t sure.”

  He gives me the most endearing look. “Is it okay if I flirt with you a little?”

  I shrug, trying so hard to be cool about something I want to scream over. “Yeah, I’m not complaining.”

  “Good.”

  We search other’s eyes for several more long seconds. My heart is beating so hard, I know he can feel it through our shirts. I can’t believe it! He feels it too! I wasn’t just imagining the connection between us, and I’m not crazy. This is real and it’s happening.

  “I seriously want to kiss you right now,” he says in a soft voice.

  I can smell the beer and pizza on his breath. It’s intoxicating, which is bizarre. I should be repulsed, but I’m not . . . not by a long shot. I am so attracted to this man right now, it’s unbelievable.

  “What’s stopping you?” I ask. This is so not me, to be this bold. But I want him to kiss me more than anything in the world, and I’m not going to let fear ruin things for me.

  He frowns just the slightest bit, worry furrowing his brow. “I don’t want to mess things up.”

  I open my mouth to tell him there’s nothing he could do to mess this up right now except walk away, but his phone rings and stops the words before they can leave my throat.

  His body stiffens in my arms.

  “You should answer that,” I say. I pull away when I sense that he’s going to disagree. “It could be about Sadie or Madison.” I can’t get in the middle of that. His real life comes before this . . . fantasy . . . or whatever it is we’ve got going on here.

  He nods stiffly and steps back, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah. What’s up?”

  I turn and start to walk out of the foyer, intending to leave him alone so he can have a private conversation, but he reaches out and takes my hand. I stop immediately and face him. We stand there together as he continues his conversation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  No . . . No.” Sam’s hold on my fingers tightens. I step closer and gather his hand into both of mine. Something terrible has happened; I can tell by his expression. His eyes are welling up with tears.

  “Don’t say that. You’re fucking with me.” His face twists with emotion. Moments later, he pulls the phone away from his ear and rests it on his forehead. He tips his head down in sorrow, his voice hoarse. “Goddammit. Goddammit, I can’t believe this is happening.” He takes several long breaths that are meant to calm his emotions. He’s struggling big-time, and watching it is breaking my heart.

  I step closer and rub his arm, speaking in a near-whisper. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

  He takes a deep breath to gather himself before putting the phone back to his ear. “I’ll come. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He nods a few times, his nostrils flaring and his lips trembling. A tear spills out of his right eye. “Okay . . . Call you when I get there.” He pulls away from me, staring at his phone as if he’s lost in thought. I wait with bated breath, twisting my hands together as I wonder and fear what he’s going to say.

  “I’ve gotta go.” He sounds lost—sad and disconnected—as he continues to stare at the phone that delivered him some pretty bad news from the looks of it. “To leave. New York. I have to leave New York.”

  It feels like a knife was just plunged into my heart by an invisible hand. “Back to LA?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For how long? What happened?” I pray this is something that can be easily fixed, that Sam will be coming back in a couple days so we can pick up where we’ll be leaving off when he gets on the plane.

  “Madison’s in the hospital.” He pauses to clear his throat. “They don’t think she’s going to make it.”

  My heart stops for a second. “What?” This is not at all what I was expecting to hear. I thought there was something bad going on, but not this bad. This is terrible. Devastating. Unreal. “Oh my god, Sam . . .”

  “Yeah. She overdosed, apparently.”

  “Oh my god. Oh my god, that’s just . . . That’s just horrible. You have to go right away.” I need to do something . . . anything but just stand here in the foyer getting ready to cry. I start walking toward the bedrooms and then stop, turning and rushing back to him, grabbing his arm. I’m so lost and confused, but I want to help him. I shake him, trying to wake him out of his stupor. “We need to get you a plane ticket, like, right now.”

  He finally looks up at me. “I don’t know if any flights leave this late at night.”

  I feel like I’m channeling my sister Amber. Sam has a problem and I am going to fix it, dammit! “Yes, they do. The band has a private jet that can go whenever it wants. I think. You can take their plane.”

  He shakes his head and pulls out of my grasp. “No way, man. I can’t do that.”

  I grab Sam’s shoulders and shake him hard. “Yes, you can. And you’re going to do it, and don’t give me any sass about it either. I know you have your pride and all that, but this is an emergency. We don’t have time for that man-crap.”

  Sam just stares at me, looking numb and shell-shocked.

  I step away and wave my hand in his face. “You go pack your stuff.” I point down the hall. “Right now. I’ll take care of your travel plans.”

  Sam glares at me for a few seconds but then looks down at his phone and sighs. His body seems to sink in on itself. He reaches up to wipe the tears from his face as he slowly disappears down the hallway without another word.

  I grab my purse and dig through it to find my phone. After dialing my sister’s number, I wait for it to ring. I pray that she’ll still be able to get calls when she’s on the plane or in the airport. I’m not exactly sure where she is right now.

  The first two rings are normal, but then there’s a click and another ringing tone takes over. When she finally answers, it sounds like she’s been asleep. “Hello?”

  “Hi. It’s me, Em. We’re having an emergency right now, and I need your help.”

  “What? An emergency?” She’s whispering loudly. From the sounds I’m hearing in the background, I’m guessing she’s on the plane.

  “Yes. Are you in flight right now? How are you getting my call?”

  “I transferred all my calls to my Wi-Fi account. What’s up?”

  “I need you to tell me who I have to contact to get the private jet ready to go to LA tonight.”

  M
y sister’s voice comes in much more clearly this time. “What are you talking about?”

  “Listen, I can’t give you all the details, but I need you to fly Sam back to LA tonight. It can’t wait until tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean it can’t wait? Why back to LA? Did you piss him off? I told you to press his buttons, not explode them!”

  “This has nothing to do with me!” I yell. I have to take a moment to calm myself down before I continue. “This has to do with Sam’s personal business back in LA. I promise, I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t an absolute emergency.” I lower my voice so Sam won’t hear what I’m saying next. “I can’t tell you all the details, but it’s for real. He needs to get on a plane now, and all the commercial flights are gone for the day.” I check the time on my phone just to be sure . . . It’s past midnight, and by the time we get to JFK it’ll be after one a.m. “This cannot wait until tomorrow morning. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

  “Okay, I’m awake now. Fine. Whatever he needs.” She yawns loudly.

  “Sooo . . . what do I do to make this happen? I’ve never booked a private jet before.” Heck, I’ve only purchased a regular airplane ticket a few times in my entire life.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. I have all of Sam’s personal details on my phone, so it’s no big deal. You just need to get him to JFK ASAP. Mr. Blake knows where to go, and I’ll be happy to wake his grouchy ass up.”

  “I told Sam to go pack a couple minutes ago. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”

  “Okay. The plane will obviously wait for him to get there, but go as soon as you can. They don’t like people leaving too late at night. Something about noise regulations or whatever.”

  “You got it. Thank you so much, Amber.”

  “Don’t think this is the end of this conversation, Em. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  She sounds annoyed with me, but I don’t have time for that right now. “I promise, I will tell you everything I can . . . later. Right now my priority is to get Sam out of here.”