by Tess Oliver
I smacked the phone down hard on the table, causing Dray and Rett to snap out of their conversation.
"Uh oh, guess Tater Tot is still teaching you a lesson, huh?" Rett picked up his soda and took a fast sip to shut himself up.
I pulled my scowl from him.
Dray pounded his fist once on the table. "Hell, we need another pitcher of beer to celebrate, bro. Can't believe you got six figures for that '69 GTO. You are one heck of a salesman." Dray and Nix both knew that the topic of cars was the best way to get me out of a dark mood.
"I didn't need to be on this transaction. That beauty sold itself. And the guys did an awesome job on the restoration." I knew when I ran across that GTO just sitting in front of an old barn on a cross country road trip with Taylor that the car would bring in big bucks. Taylor had teased me about getting so excited over what she called the rusted old carcass of a dead car. But in the end, it had been her smile and charm that had convinced the owner, an eighty-plus retired policeman, to part with the car. And now I'd sold the thing for mega bucks, but I couldn't share the good news with her.
Dray walked to the bar to get another pitcher. Rett looked over at me. "Did I mention that Taylor came out to the barn to hang out with Finley last weekend?"
I shook my head. "Nope." I stared down at my phone. "Guess maybe she's done with this. With us. Good fucking thing I didn't ask her to marry me that night. That would have been damn embarrassing for her to say no in front of everyone. Taylor's right. Sometimes my thick head doesn't let me see shit that's right in front of me. She's moving on with a successful business. She'll be meeting a lot of people, a lot of guys. I'm holding her back."
Rett shook his head. "Damn, Jimmy, where's my fucking violin?"
"What? It's true. She's only twenty-one and she's already making a name for herself in the fashion industry where the rich and glamorous spend all their time. My stupid jealousy got in the way this round, but it was only a matter of time before she started losing interest in me."
I reached for my beer, but Rett pulled it away. "I might be the designated driver tonight, but I think you've had enough too. You're talking a lot of fucking nonsense."
"It's not nonsense. It's cold, hard reality."
Dray returned to the table and noticed the glum mood. "What did I miss?"
Rett couldn't keep back his laugh. "My brother thinks that Taylor is destined to lose interest in him soon enough."
Dray's laugh followed. "Taylor? That's fucking rich. What you need is to get drunk, then you'll stop being such a sourpuss." He sat down and pushed my glass in front of me.
"In high school, Taylor Flinn could have had any guy she wanted," Rett spoke over a swallow of cola. "But the only guy she wanted was you. She was fucking obsessed. Although for the life of me, I couldn't ever figure out why. You're not all that special."
"Thanks." I gulped back a beer, deciding Dray was right. A good buzz was just what I needed tonight. "You're still thinking about Taylor, the high school student. The world, her world, was much smaller then. She's growing up now. Everything is changing fast for her. I'm the only thing that has remained stagnant."
"Or you're the only thing that has remained constant. When everything is changing, you need something constant to hold onto. And for Taylor, that's you," Dray said, in a rare moment of philosophical thought.
Rett and I stared at him, slightly stunned.
"That's right, motherfuckers. I'm not just a pretty face with a mean right hook. I've got ideas sitting in my head. I just wait for the right time to drop them into the world." Dray grinned smugly as he took a drink. "Guess it's your lucky day. You're fucking welcome."
I leaned back against the seat with my beer. "First of all, there ain't nothing pretty about that mug of yours, and secondly, with the amount of times you've had your brains scrambled in a fight, it's a wonder you can find anything logical swirling around in that mess. But you had a decent point. I'll give you that. Only problem with your theory is that there hasn't been a damn thing constant about our relationship. For the last year, it's been smooth sailing, I'll give you that. But we traveled some high fucking seas to get there. I think the journey caused too much damage."
Rett stared down at his soda. "Holy shit, this soda is not going to be enough to get me through a night with you two beer soaked idiots philosophizing and reciting poetry about relationships."
Dray lifted his beer. "You should be writing this down, buddy. You might learn something from us."
Rett leaned his head back with a laugh. "There isn't a damn thing either of you could teach me about women." He pointed at his chest with his thumb. "Barrett Mason, remember?" Just then, his phone rang, and he raced to answer it. "Hey, baby, just waiting to drive these—" He slipped out of the booth.
Dray and I watched as my brother hurried outside to finish his conversation. "Never thought I'd see your brother so wrapped up in a woman. Of course, Finley King isn't just any woman."
I gulped back the rest of the beer and sighed with satisfaction at the end of it. I was slowly starting to feel the effects of the last pitcher and hoped to float into oblivion soon. "Think I need a few shots of tequila to move this buzz along. Then I think I'll play some pool. Or at least try to. Not too sure how good my aim will be."
Fourteen
Taylor
A car honk blasted me from a deep sleep. I lifted my head and squinted into the bright light above me. It took me a few seconds to remember that I was still at the shop. A sticky note fell off my forehead as I shook the sleep from my head.
I glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight, and the rest of the businesses along the street had closed up hours ago. The only signs of life were the late night travelers going to wherever it was people went on a Thursday night.
I rubbed the back of my neck to work out the kink I'd put there by falling fast asleep hunched over my work table. Even my back was stiff. The last time I'd looked at the clock, in the midst of my frenzied work, it was ten o'clock. I'd slept for a good two hours. Obviously, I’d needed it otherwise I wouldn't have slept so soundly with my head on the hard table.
I looked over my designs, which were strewn all over the place. I'd simplified the dresses and softened some of the edgy tone. I was pleased with the results. Of course, that didn't mean a damn thing if the Bridal World people weren't equally pleased. That thought made my head hurt. A few aspirin and a fresh pot of coffee would be the perfect cure for my drowsiness. I had a few more hours of work ahead of me.
Out of habit, I glanced at my phone. There were three missed calls from Clutch. He hadn't bothered to leave a message. But I couldn't blame him. We hadn't spoken since my supreme rant at the gym. Just seeing his name on my phone sent a pang of anguish through me. Even though I'd been nearly drowning in work, I missed him terribly. But I'd stayed true to my decision to let him come back to me first. Tonight, it seemed, he'd made that effort. And I'd slept right through it.
I got up and walked over to the coffee pot. Mandy, my perfectly wonderful assistant, had filled it with water and coffee, knowing that I'd be needing it. I'd practically had to force her to go home this evening. She'd been putting in fourteen hour days right alongside of me, but after her fifth yawn, I ordered her to pack it up for the night and get some sleep. I had no doubt she'd be back to the shop bright and early to help me finalize the details before sending them on to Bridal World.
I glanced into the front of the shop as I flipped on the coffee pot. The street light above my shop had been broken for months, but the city had failed to fix it. The sidewalk looked dark and quiet. If Clutch knew I was here alone at night, I'd get two ears full of a long lecture. One reassurance was that Ron had quickly given up on his attempted courtship. I'd worried it might get uncomfortable having him deliver to the shop. He'd apparently decided the same thing and switched his route with another guy.
I looked back at my phone and contemplated calling Clutch back. It was late, but there was a good chance he was still up. Rett usually
came to the city on Thursday nights to hang out.
I walked back to the table and stared at the phone. But then my mind got pulled back to my designs. I needed to stay focused. I'd work some more and see if I could muster the courage to call him.
Fifteen
Clutch
The guy I ended up shooting pool with was named Karl . . . with a K. He made sure to mention the spelling in case I'd gotten some stupid notion in my head that it was spelled with a C. He was just passing through town, or so he said. And he was a complete blowhard. He rambled on about all of his stocks and what a whiz he was at trading and that he could let me in on some good buys. I was just waiting for him to pull out his shiny business card. He'd come in with two women. One named June, who seemed to be his girlfriend. It was hard to know for sure because once my brother walked into the pool room, June pulled her attention away from Karl with a K and focused all of her energy on Rett with an R. The second woman, a friend or workmate, Vivian, had set her sights on me before we'd even started the game.
Although, I might have been imagining the attention because by the time I picked up a cue stick, I was pretty fucking drunk.
I leaned down, using the table for more support than it was intended for, and took the shot. Even with my head swimming in tequila and beer, I was leaving my braggart opponent in the dust.
Karl's girlfriend, June, made no attempt to hide her sudden affection for the tall, handsome onlooker. She sidled up to Rett and worked hard at making conversation. I walked by him to take my shot on the other side of the table.
"Think Dray and I have had it." Rett forced a friendly smile to the woman standing so close to him, she was practically on his feet. "Finish this game so we can get out of here." He held up his keys. "Remember, I'm in control tonight."
"You're not leaving so soon are you?" June asked, making sure to lean her breasts against Rett's arm. She was looking plenty smashed herself. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, was so steeped in his rage about losing the game, he hadn't even noticed that his girlfriend had glued herself to Rett.
As I found the perfect spot on the opposite side of the table, Vivian came up next to me. She trailed her fingers along my forearm. She was really working the sultry thing, but something told me when she was sober, she was a whole different person, the kind of person who would be horrified by the drunk Vivian.
I could smell the alcohol on her breath as she leaned in to whisper. "These massive arms look as if they might just send those little shiny balls right off the table." As her fingers left my arm, she parted her lips and blew me a kiss. It was entirely possible that ole' Karl had asked her to step in and throw me off my game. But that wasn't going to happen. I tapped the white ball and sent my last stripe into the pocket.
I glanced up to see Karl twisting the cue stick in his hand as if he wanted to choke the life out of it. Nothing worse than playing against a bad loser. I was done and Rett was anxious to go too. I popped the eight ball into the pocket. "Well, Karl"—I made sure to put extra emphasis on the K—"nice playing with ya."
I looked over at Rett who had headed toward the door, leaving a thoroughly disappointed June standing behind.
"Hey, Rett, I'll be right out. Need to see that guy about the horse." I headed down the narrow hallway that led to the bathrooms.
The sharp click of heels clattered behind me. I glanced back. It was Vivian. Apparently the flirtations at the pool table hadn't been a trick. She sashayed right up to me and pressed her body against mine. She was a curvy brunette with big brown eyes that had a sort of hypnotic quality. For the briefest second I reminded myself that I'd been a fucking saint since I started dating Taylor and that just maybe that had been my problem all along. As Vivian moved her mouth closer to mine, I tried to think of every reason why this was all right. I tried to convince myself that I wouldn't regret it. But nothing worked. The lips in front of me didn't belong to Taylor.
"Sorry, Vivian. I'm not the guy you're looking for."
My phone rang just as June came circling around the corner to join us in the already crowded hallway. "You need to tell that hunky brother of yours not to leave yet. We're just about to get this party started."
"Sorry, we're heading home." I pulled out my phone. It was Taylor. I was drunk and didn't want to answer without having all my wits about me. But I didn't want to miss her call either. God, the woman had turned me into a fucking sap.
"Hey," I said and reached for the bathroom door. It was occupied. I turned around and was immediately blocked by June and Vivian, who still hadn't given up on the party idea.
"Who is that? Another hunky brother? Invite them all." Vivian lunged for my phone but only managed to leave a scratch on my chin from her long fingernail.
"Just leave me the hell alone." I stormed past them into the pool room with my phone plastered against my ear. "Taylor? Are you there?"
Silence. She'd hung up. The last thing she heard me say was leave me the hell alone. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I dialed her number right back but she didn't answer.
Sixteen
Taylor
A tap on my shoulder popped me out of the strange dream I was having where I was sewing a wedding dress on a horse. I peered up into Mandy's smiling face.
She lowered a hot cup of coffee under my nose. "You look like shit," she noted and lowered the cup to the table. She tilted her face to get a better look at me. "Have you been crying, or are your eyes just puffy from staring at the designs all night?"
"A little of both. Actually, strike that. A lot of both." I smoothed my hair back into one gathered piece and curled it into a knot at the nape of my neck. I put my hand up to stop her from asking the obvious question. "I'll tell you about it later. Let's get these designs scanned and send them to Bridal World. This time, if they ask for more changes, I'll just suggest they try a different designer. If I keep changing them, they won't even represent my style anymore and then what's the point?"
Mandy began gathering up the designs. "I thought the point was to have a reliable side income so you could expand the custom design part of the business."
I sipped the coffee, but it did little to ease the throbbing in my head. And my heart was in pain too. It was easier for me to just push away Clutch's harsh words than to believe that I'd heard them. I'd been right. My rant had opened the door to his freedom, and it seemed he was eager to grab it.
Mandy straightened out the designs and looked them over. "I think they turned out great." She pointed to one in particular that was formal but summery. Simple but elegant. "I love this one. The bride can interpret it in so many ways and accessorize to her heart's desire."
Mandy's comment snapped me out of the terrible funk I was heading into. "I love that comment. Write it down and we'll send it along with the design. Thank goodness one of us has a clear head this morning." I was bone tired, but that wasn't the thing making me feel as if my body had been filled with cement. I wasn't sure how I was going to get through the day, the week, my life without Clutch. Could it be over? It seemed too impossible to imagine, and yet as angry as I'd seen him, he'd never spoken so coldly to me before.
Mandy picked up the designs. "Look. I'll make sure these get to the right hands at Bridal World. I'm sure we won't hear back from them today. That gives you time to go home, take a bath and climb into bed. If all goes well with these"—she lifted the papers up—"and I'm sure it will, then you'll need to feel your best because we are going to be crazy busy. But right now, you look like a gray shadow of your usually vibrant self. So off with you." She waved her fingers toward the door.
I nodded. She was right, of course. I needed sleep to keep up my health. "I'm taking you up on your advice. Call me if there's a problem." I grabbed my purse and my coat. "By the way, you are the best."
"I know." She flashed me a wide smile. "Drive safely. Oh, and Taylor—" I looked back at her. "Everything will be all right. You'll see."
"I hope so." I headed out of the shop. A crisp, dry wind was flustering the palm trees l
ining the street. There was enough static electricity in the air from the Santa Ana breeze to chap my lips. I stopped at my car and fished for my lip balm. My phone vibrated. I considered ignoring it but quickly reasoned that it might be Mandy.
I pulled it out of my purse. It was a text from Clutch.
"I wasn't telling you to stay the hell away last night. I was talking to two women at Tony's Bar."
I stared at the text and marveled at how bad the man was at apologizing. While it made me feel some relief that he hadn’t been telling me to stay the hell away, it was disheartening to hear that he was out drinking and talking to other women at a bar.
"I'm not sure how to take that. An apology? Guess you see how bad it is when someone jumps to conclusions without knowing the facts."
"I tried to call you right after but you didn't answer."
My fingers flew over the screen. "I was too hurt to even think about talking to you. Sound familiar?"
"Why do I feel like I'm just digging myself into a deeper hole right now?" he texted back.
"I'm tired. I've been working non-stop. I need to go home and sleep. I can't think straight right now."
He paused long enough for me to open the car and climb inside.
His text came through as I started the car. "Is it just me or are we drifting apart?"
I covered my mouth to stop the sob. "I don't know." I texted back and dropped the phone into my purse. I had to end the conversation or risk falling apart completely. Bath and bed. That's what I needed right now.
Seventeen
Clutch
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was happening between Taylor and me, other than the blaring reality that things were falling apart. We'd hardly spoken in a week. It was a sort of unspoken separation, and it seemed that both of us were playing chicken to see who would blink first. The only problem with that was that we were both hard headed. We also both had so much going on in our respective businesses that our relationship had been pushed down the priority list.
