Off Limits

by Vanessa North

  “You’re welcome. And consider me duly chastened for the flirting and pursu-age. I’m sorry it took you coming over here to show me what an ass I’d been.”

  I blush. “I liked the attention. I could have been more firm.”

  “No. You could not have. You said no, and I took it as a challenge. That was fucking wrong, and I’d be pissed too if someone did that to me. Do not let me off the hook for my bad behavior.”

  I scoot my legs up under me and take another sip of coffee to hide the fact that I have no idea how to respond to her. Finally, I say, “We could be friends, right?”

  “Well, I don’t let just anyone sleep in my Dodgers jersey.” She smiles. “I could use more friends in New York. Karina is sweet, and Angie is amazing, but there’s awkwardness with both of them.”

  “Angie Templeton?” Another member at the Thorns and honestly one of my favorites—smiling and feisty with a Southern accent to rival the one I’d brought to New York with me. I’d trained mine out of my voice, but it tended to slip out around Angie.

  “Yeah. We had a thing, back in college. Very emotional, very passionate, and very short-lived. She’s still one of my best friends on the planet, but…”

  “I get it. Teri and I kind of attempted to date back when we first started Vertical Smile, but it got to the point it was us or the band and the band was more important to both of us. We’re lucky. A lot of bands don’t survive shit like that.”

  “Wow.” Her eyes go wide. “Tell me more. Jacks and Ritchie, they’re together, right? I mean, I saw that picture on the Facebook page.”

  I nod, knowing exactly which picture she meant. Jacks sitting on Ritchie’s lap, kissing his face off last New Year’s. “Oh yeah. When Jacks was sixteen, they fell hard for each other and Ritchie apparently rescued him like a puppy.” Even though the memory is a lot grimmer than I make it sound, I smile at the thought of their epic love story. “They’re good for each other.”

  “What’s it like, performing in front of a crowd like the ones you guys get? It looks so—so fucking powerful.”

  “It is. Or empowering? I don’t know. All I know is it’s the one thing in my life that’s all my own. I do wish I could have told X about it, because I think he’d have enjoyed it. He was super into old school punk like the Clash and the Dead Kennedys.”

  “You never told him?”

  I shake my head. “Never. Oh my god, he would’ve been so pissed. You’re the only thing in my life that would piss him off more.”

  “Me? But we haven’t done anything.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I shrug. “But we wanted to. Sometimes the wanting is enough.”

  “What the fuck ever.” She stands up and takes her coffee mug to the kitchen. “You’ve done absolutely nothing to earn anyone’s disapproval. From everything I can tell, you’re an amazing concierge at the Thorns. Vertical Smile is a force to be reckoned with, and you’ve done everything you can to honor your Uncle’s legacy. I bet you anything he’d want you to be happy before all of that.”

  I turn in the chair, looking at her over my shoulder. “Does your family want you to be happy?”

  “Of course. That’s why they’ve never told me no in my life. I’m not saying their methods are great, but…”

  The conversation moves to safer topics—her love of the Dodgers, my Southern upbringing, even food, and before long, we’re saying goodbye at her door with my clothes tucked into an old shopping bag and my number safely in her phone.

  With her barefoot, and me in heels, I’m tall enough to look in her eyes when I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Thank you.” I whisper.

  “You’re welcome.” She brushes hair off my forehead. “This isn’t how I imagined we’d spend a morning together—or well, it is, but it isn’t why. But I’m glad. I enjoy your company.”

  “Me too.” I kiss her again, a quick brush of my lips against hers, and I wave over my shoulder as I walk away—down her hallway with the borrowed dress swaying around me.

  Bex

  * * *

  U coming by the club this week? I’ve got your dress in my office. I had it dry cleaned.

  * * *

  I smile at the unexpected text from Natalie.

  * * *

  Karina and I are coming in for a wedding-planning sesh when she gets off set on Friday. Will I see you?

  * * *

  The reply comes much later.

  * * *

  Sorry. Got caught up in the kitchen. Training a new server. I don’t work Fridays. Just tell Ashleigh at the front desk that I picked up your dry cleaning for you.

  * * *

  Is that even part of your job?

  * * *

  My job is to make our members’ lives easier. And to be invisible as much as possible while I’m doing it. No one will ask questions.

  * * *

  Awesome. Thank you.

  * * *

  Welcome.

  * * *

  Planning a wedding on a short timeline is a challenge even for professional event planners. I don’t even really consider the charity bashes I throw a profession. I live off my trust fund and I don’t take an income from my charity work. The point is, I know what I’m doing and the Horvath-Smith wedding still stresses me the fuck out.

  The one bright spot is seeing my dad so freaking happy. I wouldn’t say he’s involved with the planning, but when I stop by his apartment to drop off some cake samples for them to try, he’s practically vibrating with joy. And it’s a good look on him.

  “Daddy.” I kiss his cheek as he ushers me through the door. “You didn’t have to send Timothy to pick me up—I could have taken a Lyft.”

  “Timothy misses you when you’re in LA. And I don’t like you using ride shares. They’re dangerous.”

  I roll my eyes. “You pay too much attention to the wrong headlines.”

  “You don’t pay enough attention to any of them.”

  He’s got a point. I get most of my news from Twitter, and it’s easy to filter out the stuff I don’t want to see. Which, honestly, is almost everything these days.

  “Where’s Karina? I thought she’d be here.”

  “She’s stuck in traffic on her way back from the OB. She’ll be here soon enough.” He takes my jacket and purse and leads me to the living room. For as long as I can remember, he’s favored dark wood and deep colors, but here and there I see touches of Karina’s whimsy starting to mix with his more severe taste. A floor cushion on either side of the coffee table. A bird’s nest centerpiece with enameled eggs. A baby blue velvet throw tossed over the dark brown sofa. I set the bakery boxes on the table and sit crosslegged on one of the cushions.

  “Can I get you a drink? I don’t have champagne, but I’ve got scotch.”

  “Scotch is good, thanks.”

  As he’s pouring the drinks, I hear the door open and Karina’s voice precedes her down the hall.

  “Honey, I’m hooooome!” She rushes into the room, wraps her arms around my dad’s waist and gives him a squeeze, then seems to notice me. “Oh hi, Bex! Are those the cake samples? I’m starving.”

  “Hi, Karina.” I start to stand up to greet her, but she waves me off and plunks herself down across from me.

  “I’m not going to be able to sit on the floor much longer, and my doc would throw a fit if she knew I was having cake for supper, but…” her voice drops to a whisper. “I really don’t care. You only live once.”

  Dad places a glass of water in front of her and a tumbler of scotch in front of me, then holds up his own glass. “To family.”

  “To family,” we echo.

  “And cake.” Karina adds, winking at me across the table.

  As they start tasting the cakes, my phone buzzes in my pocket, so I check it surreptitiously under the table.

  * * *

  Bridgeview had a cancellation for Saturday night and by some miracle Jacks and Teri aren’t working, so Vertical Smile took the spot.

  * * *

  Awesome! I’ll
try to make it.

  * * *

  :) Cool. I’ll buy you a drink after the show if you do.

  * * *

  I tuck the phone back into my pocket and look up to see Dad and Karina staring at me. “What?”

  “You have the cutest expression on your face. Like you’re trying not to smile, but it’s totally not working.” Karina smiles.

  “It’s nothing.” I shrug. “Just a friend texting about plans on Saturday.”

  “A girlfriend?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, just a friend.”

  He and Karina make eye contact over the cake and look back at me with matching dubious expressions.

  “Uh-huh.” He says. “Do I know this friend? It’s not Angie, is it?”

  “No, god. Seriously, Dad, just a friend, no one you know. Stop being weird.”

  “Is he being weird?” Karina looks back and forth between the two of us. “I think this is the first time I’ve spent with the two of you together.”

  “He’s being nosy, which is a little weird.”

  “Forgive me for taking an interest in my daughter’s love life.” He stands and walks to the sideboard to refill his scotch, looking for all the world like a bird with ruffled feathers.

  I shrink in on myself, suddenly defensive. “Well, you usually don’t. It’s awkward. And she’s just a friend.”

  “Noted. I like the almond cake best. Do whatever you like for the design.”

  And then he walks out.

  “Ugh, I’m sorry.” Karina reaches across the table and takes my hand. Unlike my dad, she gets touchy when tension escalates in a room. “He’s really stressed out.”

  “Don’t apologize and make excuses for him.” I smile at her, squeeze her hand, and let it go.. “This is the Dad I’m used to.”

  “It’s not the Ben I’m used to.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “At least, he’s not with me.”

  “And that’s a good thing.” I remind her gently. “You’re not his daughter; you weren’t raised by his ex-wife. You don’t have the complicated relationship that he and I have. And I was snippy and dismissive of his curiosity. Don’t worry about it.”

  “If you’re sure.” She shrugs, then starts twisting her hands in the air. I’ve spent enough time with her now to recognize her favorite stims—the hand flaps, and running her fingertips along a bracelet on her wrist—and to know she does them when her emotions are running high. “In that case, I like the almond cake too. Lemon would be my second choice. I don’t want any fussiness to the frosting—and no fondant. It’s pretty, but the texture makes me gag. Did I share my Pinterest board with you?”

  “You did—I’ll get the bakery to send you some photos to go over. Hey—you know you aren’t responsible for fixing things between me and my dad, right?”

  She nods, not meeting my eyes. “I know.”

  “Okay.” We turn our discussion topics back to the wedding as we eat the rest of the cake samples and she continues to stim. By the time Dad rejoins us, the air feels lighter. I offer him an awkward smile, which he returns.

  Maybe Karina isn’t responsible for fixing things between me and Dad. But for her sake, maybe I should try.

  “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you want me to send the invites to the GScholars fundraiser here or to your office?

  “To my office, please.” He smiles. “Thank you.”

  “I’m including tickets to the reception afterward.” I turn to Karina. “It’ll be a little smaller and I’ll get a chance to spend some time with both of you.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” She’s practically beaming. “Ben, will you help me off the floor? I need to pee.”

  It’s strange. I’ve never thought of my father as particularly doting with the women he’s dated, but the way he helps Karina up and leans over to whisper something in her ear makes them both smile. It’s beautiful, and it hurts, and I’m not sure why, until much later, when Timothy is driving me home.

  I’m thirty years old, and I’ve never seen either of my parents in love before.

  Ten

  Natalie

  * * *

  I’m guilty as fuck and I can’t help but enjoy the attention. Over the next few weeks, Bex blows up my phone with the most adorable and inane observations about planning a wedding. She asks my advice—which I’m sure she doesn’t need—and she makes me feel like my insights are helpful. I find myself looking forward to her texts, even when they come while I’m at work.

  Priya and I are taking a much-needed break in the “closed for renovations” rooftop garden at the club—her for a ciggie, me for the fresh air—when my phone buzzes.

  * * *

  Oh my god. The new exhibit at the art gallery is wildly unsuitable for a wedding. We’re losing the deposit—not like Karina and Dad give a shit, but I feel like an asshole for not double-checking that the exhibit wouldn’t change.

  * * *

  I’m sorry, that sucks. Do you have a backup plan?

  * * *

  No. I’m back to square one.

  * * *

  I know I shouldn’t offer. I shouldn’t volunteer something that will bring us into frequent contact. Working in close proximity to Bex Horvath will be absolute murder on my willpower—but I’ve always been my own worst enemy.

  * * *

  So have it here at the club. On the roof, with all of Manhattan lying at your feet.

  * * *

  Isn’t it being renovated?

  * * *

  I snatch the Camel out of Priya’s hand, ignore her shouted, “Hey!” and take a long drag off it. Then I text back:

  * * *

  It’s still growing in, but the bones are here. Some lights, some flowers—I can make this work for you.

  * * *

  “What’s your fucking problem?” Priya grabs her cigarette back. “You know I’ll bum you one if you ask.”

  “I just needed a drag. A, um, stressful client.”

  “One of the members here? You have them all eating out of your hand.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Speaking of stress, did you get a hold of Elinor yet?”

  My phone buzzes.

  I shake my head. “Still playing phone tag.”

  * * *

  That would be amazing. Can I bring Karina by tomorrow to look at it to be sure? Also, let me know how much $ the deposit is. You’re a lifesaver. I could kiss you.

  * * *

  A jolt of awareness hits me and I blush.

  * * *

  Tomorrow is good. I have a staff meeting at seven-thirty, after that I’m free until ten. Total rental is $15k. We require half up front, the balance is due two weeks before the wedding. Will we be catering too?

  * * *

  Karina’s schedule doesn’t open up until the afternoon. I’ll ask her about catering. Three-ish okay?

  * * *

  I’ll have to move some stuff around, but I can be free at four?

  * * *

  Perfect. Thanks, Natalie.

  * * *

  “Can you try to call her again?”

  I look up at Priya and squint, confused, and feeling a little warm and fuzzy over the kissing comment. “Be—The client?”

  “No, Elinor. I don’t like it when my numbers don’t match. It’s like an itch right in the middle of your shoulder blades that you can’t scratch no matter how hard you try.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’ll call her when we get back downstairs.”

  “So what does the client want?”

  “She’s planning her father’s wedding. It’s in September and the venue they had picked is now unpicked. They’re going to have it here instead.”

  “Here? In September?” Priya pulls a face. “All right. Loop Djimon in on the planning so he can get his purchase orders ready. The man can cook, but he’s nowhere near as organized as X was.”

  I flinch at the reminder that I’ll never see X reigning over the rowdy kitchen again. The sharp-tongued Ethiopian chef who
stepped into his role has never enjoyed the paperwork end of the job, but he’s a damn good chef.

  “We should hire a kitchen manager, let Djimon get back to what he does best.”

  Priya lets out a derisive snort as she tucks her cigarettes back into her purse. “Yeah, you take it up with HR if you ever get a hold of them, and I’ll find room in the budget, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  And once again, getting a hold of HR turns out to be more difficult than it should be. This time, I don’t rein in my annoyance when I leave yet another voice mail.

  “Elinor. It’s Natalie again. You need to get in touch about the payroll discrepancies—this is going on too long. I know we’re in different time zones, but this is ridiculous. Call me.”

  I hang up and stare at the phone. Part of me wants to escalate, but who do I escalate to? The owners? They’re in LA. They work with Elinor every day, and they’re clearly happy with her performance or they’d have gotten rid of her—right? And did I really want to pick a fight with HR?

  Bex

  The GScholars fundraiser—the one I wanted to bring Natalie to—is on a Friday night, and I spend the day with Karina pampering at the spa and sending teasing texts to Natalie.

  If you were coming to the party with me tonight, you could look like this right now. (With a picture of my mud-mask-covered face)