by Brown, Tara
Especially not this time.
It’s an old man with a grizzled beard and dark hair. His filthy clothes are wet from the rain, accenting the skinniness of his body. He’s skeletal.
“Yeah, my man. Give me a minute.” I cling to the bag and take in my surroundings. The old strip mall is mostly abandoned except for a few places. Fortunately, there’s a shitty-looking sandwich shop at the end, a couple of doors away from the pet store. I jog down to it.
The door to the sandwich shop rings with almost the same bell as the pet store when I fling it open. The guy behind the counter, a small teenaged boy, flinches when he sees me hurry in but speaks as if his manager is watching, “How can I help you?”
“You got premade sandwiches?” I ask right before I spot them. Walking over, I peruse the fridge under the counter and nod at the BLT on sourdough. “I’ll take that BLT with a water and a cookie.”
The kid moves with almost as much zest for life as the blue-haired girl. I try not to do the thing my mom does where she widens her eyes and sighs in displeasure at how slow someone is moving. He rings it up after several minutes of bagging and wrapping in napkins. “Eight fifty-five,” he says quietly.
In the same way as at the pet store, I lift the card. “Charge.”
He slowly taps his fingers on the machine and I enter my card. When it goes through, I don’t wait for the receipt but grab the food and hustle out. “Thanks!”
I jog back to the old guy, sweating now from my effort in the humidity. “Here, man.” I hand the homeless guy the food carefully so he can see it and understand what it is.
His eyes lift and he’s the first person to meet my gaze since I arrived here. “Thanks, brother.” His eyes are hazy as though maybe the drugs have been out of his system for a while but he can’t seem to get back on his feet. It was too much for too long and there is no fix now.
“Of course. Stay safe.” I stand, carrying my cat food to the car and climb in, laying the bag on the passenger seat.
I start the car to drive home when my phone rings over Bluetooth, announcing who the caller is. “Yeah?” I answer.
“Where are you?” Sami barks from the other side. Her voice makes me smile, even when she’s being sassy.
“I had to get Simon some food. I’m on my way home to ice my thigh. What’s up, Mrs. Brimstone?” She hates it when I call her that.
“Oh my God, stop. This is important. I’ve been texting you for like half an hour!” she shouts at me the same way my sister, Callie, does, as a little brother, a role I never wanted but somehow ended up with. “We’re waiting outside your place in the limo. Can you hurry the hell up? Charles is double-parked in the drop-off parking and your doorman is giving us the look like it’s time to go.”
“What?” I’m lost. “Did we have plans?” Of course I forgot. My post-playoffs depression is still going strong.
“Yes, today!” Sami shrieks. “I told you the moment the season was over, the team was mine. Well, it’s over, bitches. You lost and I want my time.” I hear the smile in her voice, even as she’s razzing me and the team.
“What are you talking about? Is Nat there, can she translate?”
“Bro, don’t provoke her. She’s in a dangerous place,” Matt says with a laugh. “Just haul ass home.”
“I’ve arranged your bags. You’re packed and ready to go. Grab your essentials and meet us out front ASAP!” Sami barks and I swear I hear Nat laugh.
“You packed for me?” I turn into an alley to get to my place faster, and it dawns on me what she’s talking about. “It’s today? You didn’t warn me,” I shout. “Really? Now?”
“Yes,” she squeals and Nat definitely laughs.
“Okay. Holy shit.” I pause, not sure how to handle her springing this information on me. “Just give me five minutes.” I hang up and drive faster, speeding through several alleys and cutting off a car as I skid out onto the avenue. It takes me five minutes to get five blocks home and park the car. I lock it up and race to the servants’ elevator with the cat food, ignoring the nagging thigh.
“Millie!” I shout at my housekeeper.
“Mr. Eckelston, Ms. Ford was here, she insisted.” Millie hurries to the kitchen as I get inside. Her cheeks are flushed, how all staff members appear when Sami is finished with them. “I’m sorry. She’s been in your room, she insisted—”
“It’s fine. Apparently, I’ll be gone for a few days.” I laugh as I pass her the food. “You cool to stay here and keep my little homie company?” I ask as I walk into the breakfast room where Simon is sitting in the window, his typical perch during the day. He yawns as I roll him onto his back and nuzzle against his face.
“Of course. Happy to. My husband is away on a work trip for the weekend anyway.” Millie smiles wide and takes Simon in her arms.
“He can come stay here if you need him to.”
“That’s fine.” She offers a wry grin. “A few days apart after twenty years of marriage is good for the soul. Anyway, back to business. Your bags are already in their limo downstairs. When she said you’d be gone with them for the week, I also packed your toiletries and workout gear.” She lifts her eyebrows, giving me that motherly look. She might be the only person who has ever offered it to me. My own mother certainly hasn’t.
“Perfect. Then I guess I’m out. Can you get someone to move the car?” I ask and leave the car keys on the bureau as I hurry for the fridge to grab one of the sandwiches from the stack she always has for me. “Since I won’t be home, if you don’t eat the sandwiches, there’s a not-too-creepy-looking homeless lady hanging around the block by the park. I bet she’d love them. See ya Sunday.” I wave and dash to the main elevator.
As the doors close, I realize how exhausted I am and that the ride is the last of the calm moments I will have for six days. When the elevator opens to the lobby of my building, I take a deep breath of the air-conditioned air and march through a mass of people for the front doors where Seb the doorman is standing.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Eckelston,” he greets me warmly.
“Hey, Seb.” I slap him on the arm and hurry for the double-parked limo.
Brady scowls from inside the limo as a valet gets the door for me. “The fuck took you so long to get home, Lori?”
“He showers after he works out,” Sami says with a laugh and an attack-style leaned-in hug for me, overwhelming me with her perfume and soft skin brushing against mine. “Unlike you.”
“Whatever,” Brady grumbles and closes the door. He hands me a cold Guinness, but his eyes linger on my other hand. “Is that one of Millie’s sandwiches?”
“Maybe.” I crack the tall can and take a massive swig of the cold beer.
“Gimme half. These assholes are starving us on purpose. Sami wants us to eat at some froufrou bullshit place, but we have to wait.” He leans forward. “I’m starving.”
Not wanting to share food, I hesitate, catching a grin from Matt. “It’s only six inches, there’s not enough for all of us.”
“That’s what she said.” Nat takes the sandwich from my hands. She unwraps it and takes a big bite.
“Come on, Nat,” I groan.
“You guys are going to spoil your dinner!” Sami shouts.
Brady takes the sub and bites down, handing it to Matt who does the same. He closes his eyes and nods as he chews.
“Oh my God, you never make that face. How good is that sandwich?” Sami snatches it from Matt and takes a dainty bite. She moans, meeting my gaze as she hands what’s left of my sandwich to me. “Is that pesto?” she asks with a mouthful. “This is so good.”
“It was,” I stare at the sad bit of bun that’s left.
“God, I have some locker room jokes to go with that badly abused bun, bro,” Brady winks at me.
Nat slaps him.
“Anyway.” I take a bite and chew, washing it down with beer. The sandwich is another home run. It’s pesto, bacon, chicken, mayo, sweet tomato, and Havarti with crisp lettuce. There’s something els
e, maybe a weird relish of some sort. It adds the zing the sandwich needs.
“Right, back to the important stuff. Are you excited?” Sami gushes. Her eyes are wide and brimming with enthusiasm.
“Fully joyed.” I take another bite. I need to be on and forget that I’m bummed out.
“Do you know where we’re going?” She waggles her eyebrows. The other faces in the limo are unreadable.
“French Riviera or Italy?” I guess and finish what’s left of my meal, still starving.
“Nope!” She claps her hands and bounces on the leather seat. I try not to stare at her chest as she does it. “You’ll never guess this. I am so excited. We’ll arrive today and everyone else comes tomorrow. Mike and Liz can’t come until Friday night. She has a doctor’s appointment that can’t be missed.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s better than okay,” Sami gushes as her eyes widen with the secret she clearly isn’t bent on keeping. It takes me a minute to realize she means Mike and Liz are expecting a baby.
“Oh yikes. How’s Mike?” I ask Brady but he doesn’t get the chance to answer.
“You can ask him Friday.” Sami scoffs. “Stop interrupting. I think I’ve managed to keep this whole thing top secret. No one in the media will know until it’s over.” She beams, barely breathing. “By that time, I’ll have leaked it through my Instagram to ensure top clicks.”
“That’s important.” Matt already seems annoyed because this is not how he wanted to get married.
“It’s going to be the wedding of the year,” Nat gushes but it sounds weird coming from her. She’s the opposite of Sami. Not showy or fancy at all. She’s the epitome of down-to-earth. The sort of girl who wouldn’t show up to the wedding of the year.
“Did you think of someone to bring as a date?” Sami flutters her long lashes at me, always aware of the effect she has. “If you did, we can send a car and pick her up tomorrow.”
“Nat’s my date,” I say with a laugh and wink at Brady. “You told him, right?”
Nat instantly goes along with the joke and slides over to my side of the limo and snuggles into me. “Babe, I told you we’re sharing our accommodations with Lori, right?”
His eyes inadvertently flash that savage jealousy Nat and I are so fond of provoking in him. It takes him a second of self-control and something else, maybe rifling through his caveman comebacks for an appropriate one, “Fine, but you’re in the middle, Lori.”
“My favorite position, BJ,” I retort and finish the last of my Guinness in a couple of big gulps.
Nat moves back to her side, laughing at the big baby Brady becomes whenever she is around. When it’s just us guys, he’s funny and light and cool. Add Nat and he starts paying attention to every dude in the room and puffing out his chest.
It’s no one’s fault but his own, getting engaged to a girl like her. She’s a triple threat and will likely be the death of him.
But Brady has nothing to worry about with me. Nat’s more of a sister to me, the sister I never had.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this secret wedding right after our game,” Brady gripes. “My whole body is still sore. The team is too.”
“Yeah, I’m low-key dying over here,” I add.
“Sami says it’s going to be relaxing,” Matt jokes, flaring his eyes but Brady doesn’t appear convinced. I’m not. The secret wedding of Sami-fucking-Ford and Matt Brimley will be everything except relaxing.
But we all agreed. The moment playoffs were over for us, we were hers. Almost the entire New York Rangers team, Coach included, though I warned her he wouldn’t be coming. Our coach is a stick in the mud and the loss didn’t sit well with him. And he’d never come to a wedding with no warning and little instructions.
“Hey, Sami, which part of the weekend has relaxing on the itinerary?” Brady asks, making Nat roll her eyes.
“Thursday, jackass,” Sami says firmly. “Wednesday is meet and greet. Friday is rehearsal. Saturday is the wedding. Sunday you’re free after brunch.” Her eyes flicker in my direction. “I assume you’re going home to Canada after that?”
“I was thinking I might. Go and spend a week in Van with the family and then go see Gramps.” I try not to fidget with my beer tab. “Oh, and he already sent condolences on our loss. Asked me to ensure I gave them to you two in particular.” I pull out my phone and show Matt the text conversation where my grandpa called our team a bunch of pussies who need to buck up. Sami laughs but Brimley is still too sore to respond favorably.
“Pop your balls back out, boys,” Nat reads as she takes the phone and Brady presses his lips into a tight line.
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “He’s such a grumpy ass.”
“Billionaires all are, apparently,” Sami offers cheekily, eyeing up Matt who pretends not to notice her dig. “Party poopers and grumpy bastards.”
Matt’s jaw clenches. “I’m not grumpy. Lori’s never grumpy.”
“That’s not true and I don’t quite have billionaire status, so I get to remain classified as a delight for about six more months,” I joke.
“Oh my God, I was teasing. You better perk up,” Sami demands but leans in, planting her gloss-coated lips on his cheek. “It’s our wedding. And I have planned everything. It’ll be perfect.”
“It’s going to be so romantic.” Nat cuddles into Brady. The four of them melt into a snuggle fest. And again, I’m surrounded by it. I can practically smell the sex in the air.
“We picking up Rich and Carson?” I’m hopeful.
“I can’t get ahold of them. I’m going to kill Carson.”
“How long is this drive?” I ask, trying not to sound bitter.
“About an hour,” Sami answers without taking her eyes off Matt.
“Right.” I bang on the glass separating us from Charles, Matt’s driver. He stops the limo.
“What now, Lori?” Brady scowls. “You find some homeless dude to feed? You Canadians are weird.”
“Stop!” Nat slaps Brady.
Without answering, I jump out and close the door, climbing in the front seat with Charles who grins. “Evening, Mr. Eckelston. I’ve been expecting you.” His English accent always makes me feel like I’m in a James Bond film.
“Charles,” I say back politely.
The divider comes down, revealing the four faces in the back seat. “If I’m not allowed to ride up front with Charles, neither are you. You get your sweet ass back here.” Brady points a meaty finger at me.
“You wanna trade Nat for Charles in that back-seat circle jerk, you give me a shout, Coldwell. Until then, I’m up here, with my main man.” I press the button and challenge him with my stare as he glares at me while Nat works at solving the term “circle jerk.” The window is more than halfway up when her eyes widen and she realizes what I’ve said, but I lose them in the tint. I wish I might have seen the full reaction.
“Circle jerk, sir?” Charles asks.
“This fifth wheel thing is getting painful, Charles,” I groan and get comfortable. “It’s worse now that Carson and Rich are living together. I’ve become the seventh wheel. Three happy couples and me.”
“You could always settle down, young man.” Charles gives me a bit of side-eye.
“I’m not even twenty-three yet.” I scoff. “Who gets settled down that young?” I say before I consider the four in the back. “Besides them. It’s unnatural, Charles. They’re weird. I’m the normal one.”
“I suppose so, sir.” He calls me sir, even though he’s a hard forty years older than I am. And I let it slide though I hate it, but this is how it is. It’s also why I don’t have a driver. I’ve managed to avoid the typical staff, beyond Millie who I tell myself is for the cat and not me at all. Even if the sandwiches are amazing.
“I think I’ll stick with playing the field and sleeping with my cat every night,” I say softly as he rounds the curb.
“Sound plan, sir.” Charles doesn’t go for the low-hanging fruit in the form of pussy jokes he coul
d torment me with. Instead, he nods like the gentleman he is. “At least until the right girl or boy comes along.”
“Hopefully, that never happens,” I mutter and try not to acknowledge the fact this is going to be the hardest week of my life. Getting knocked out of the playoffs sucked. Spending the one time a year when I like to be alone—roaming my apartment in my underwear with my cat, day drunk and eating my feelings—at a wedding, with hundreds of people expecting me to be funny and on, is hell.
Pure hell.
3
Small favors
Jenny
It takes every ounce of strength and venom in me to walk out of my apartment, dressed and presentable, but I do it.
In new heels and a cute pencil skirt-blouse combo, I rush for my train, noticing the rain has let up and the sun is shining. A promising sign for my fresh start. A fresh start I’m aware I’m not truly comprehending, but I don’t need to do that today.
Not yet.
Right now, I need to make it through the day. And tomorrow, I have to make it through that day. And eventually it will hurt less. Or not hurt at all, since I’m totally numb by the time I reach the station. Not peacefully numb but cut off from my emotions and rational maybe.
Fortunately, it’s an off-peak time to ride the train and none of my morning-commute usuals are here. I sit and stare out the window, trying not to let my mind wander. It has one destination and it’s a stop I refuse to make.
A text from my older brother, Josh, hits my phone.
You ok?
Yup, I answer back, aware he doesn’t have time to get into this, and I have no desire to.
If you’re not ok, I’m here. He finishes with a nerd emoji.
I send a fake kissy face. I can’t talk about this right now.
But before I can turn off the phone, it rings as the train nears the halfway mark of the journey, about fifteen minutes to the city.
“Hello?” I answer, assuming it’s him forcing the issue in a big brother way.
Thankfully, it’s not him. “Hey, how’s it going?” My friend Claire sounds a little hesitant.
