by Scott, S. L.
“Positive,” they both reply.
Ruby smacks my ass. “If I had your body, I’d dress like Britney Spears’ backup dancer and show off the goods for free.” I’m used to scrubs and a white lab coat these days, but I know I’m going to lose this argument, so I suck it up and hope I don’t fall flat on my face. Ruby says, “Stick out those tits, for God’s sake. You got ’em. Use them.”
“And what exactly am I using them for?”
“Your own benefit. Trust me on this.”
My mom pretends she doesn’t hear this conversation and opens the door to go inside the restaurant. “This place had rave reviews last week from The Daily,” she says over her shoulder.
“And we got reservations?”
“No, but the person who answered my call told us we might catch a cancellation, so Ruby and I figured it was worth a try.” She turns to the podium and starts talking to the hostess.
Ruby passes behind her, grabbing my hand, and pulling me toward the bar. We snag the two seats available and order a round of cocktails while waiting for my mom.
She arrives just as the drinks are set down, and I hop off the stool so she can sit down. “There are no reservations available.” Taking the drink we got for her, she sips before adding, “To a fun night anyway.”
“To a liquid dinner,” Ruby adds. Our glasses ring as they tap together, and we all drink to that.
The laughter is strong, medicine to my soul for the next few hours, the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
“We searched all the suitcases for the buzzing noise,” Ruby continues a story that has me laughing so hard my side hurts. “Go figure. It was in my carry-on all along.”
“Why’d you carry on your vibrator?” My mom giggle-snorts because she was two sheets to the wind two cocktails ago. Even though she’s seated, I’m surprised she’s not flat on her ass, considering I’ve had to practically prop her up for the last hour. I don’t mind because she’s having a great time.
Ruby shrugs. “A mile-high fantasy.” The tab is set down, and Ruby is quick to slap a card down. “On me, ladies.”
After paying, we stumble out of the restaurant onto the sidewalk. My mom looks up at the surrounding skyscrapers, and says, “I don’t even know where I am in the city.”
Wrapping my arm around hers, I pull her left. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you home.”
Ruby throws her arm up in the air as she leans forward, teetering on the curb. “We can share a cab. I don’t mind the detour.”
The valet flanks her side. “If you’d like to wait over there, I’ll get you a cab, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” she replies, horrified. Finding us over her shoulder, she asks, “Oh God, when did I become a ma’am?”
My mom giggles and hiccups. “It’s not so bad, Ruby. It’s a sign of respect.”
Returning to where we’re standing, she stomps her foot. “Maybe I do want to be someone’s ma’am. Respect on the streets. Disrespect in the sheets. That’s the kind of guy I’m looking for.”
We move against the building, leaning against the brick wall for support. “I can’t take you two anywhere.” I laugh, but then a burning question from earlier returns, and ask, “Did the fantasy come true?”
Looking left and then right, Ruby then leans in. “Let’s just say that the co-pilot knows how to land his plane.”
“It’s not called a cockpit for nothing,” my mom remarks, leaving me staring in shock.
Ruby is laughing, but as if the memory is fresh enough to relive, she shares, “He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.” Then her eyes go wide. “Except for him. Sweet. Jesus.”
My mom looks past me, and her mouth falls open.
Feeling left out, I follow their gazes to get a good look at what has them gawking, the name falling from my mouth like it’s the owner, “Joshua.”
39
Joshua
Like a lightning strike out of the blue, I didn’t expect to see Chloe again. The passion in her heart was always seen in her eyes, and tonight is no different. My gaze follows the lines of her hair that flow over her shoulders and the graceful collarbone exposed that I used to kiss.
That connection that refuses not to exist has me flexing my fingers to keep from reaching out to touch her again. Seeing her dotting my life in the most unexpected places, and knowing she’s not mine to kiss, has become my true punishment.
Gripping her purse in one hand and by all appearances a drunk Cat in the other, she’s staring at me like I materialized out of thin air.
“Chloe,” I reply, a few awkward beats later. No questions. No statements. Just her name making its way into the fresh air. It feels good to say it again. It’s even better seeing her.
“Josh?”
I force my eyes from her only to find another familiar face. “Ruby?”
“Yes. Wow, Josh Evans right here on the streets of New York.” She loops her arm with Chloe, the two women standing alert at her side. “What are the odds?”
Chloe speaks out of the side of her mouth, “Better than you think,” loud enough to hear, leading me to believe that she’s not entirely upset to see me again.
“Josh?” Confusion ripples through her expression and then softens with defeat taking over. I still want to correct the name, but she only changed it because I told her to when I was in jail. Chloe remains standing quietly as if saying my name was all she could bear. I relate all too well.
She continues to stare at me as if I’m a mystery she can’t figure out, and then says, “You’re here.” But before I can say anything else, she asks, “What are you doing here?”
I’m not sure what to say.
I work here.
Coincidences happen.
It’s a free country.
When she looks at her mom, her mom’s expression is unreadable from where I’m standing. I say, “I work in the city.” I could have pointed out that they’re currently standing in front of my restaurant but giving up these details in the current climate of the moment seems ill-advised. It’s good to keep a few secrets. That’s something she knows well.
Ruby jolts in surprise, raising her eyebrows. “You live here?”
“Yes.”
Cat’s loose demeanor has changed into protective mother mode, taking her daughter’s hand in hers. “Chloe—”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
Ruby says, “The cab’s here.” Even Ruby can’t dismiss the awkwardness by the way sympathy rearranges her face. I’m starting to wonder if she doesn’t hate me. Rich people are usually better at hiding their evil side.
I hate myself for even thinking they could be that cruel, but I lost trust in words a long time ago. Now I judge others by their actions.
The heavy breath that escapes Chloe has her shoulders lowering, and she nods while I stand unsure of how I’m feeling about seeing her, them, and having another fated run-in. It’s a lot to process. I say, “It was—” I stop myself from telling her how good it really is. I can’t. After being given three opportunities, I still can’t manage my emotions with a clear head, and my heart is too cloudy.
A plea enters Chloe’s eyes, her lip momentarily tucked under teeth. “It was what?”
Ruby walks around Chloe, taking Cat’s hand. “We’ll wait in the cab.”
Looking at Chloe, Cat whispers, “I think you should come with us.”
The debate is written in the worry creasing her brow. She nods, and for a brief second, I think she’s been convinced. Then she asks, “Can I have a minute, Mom? Ruby?” Her need to please shining through.
I could give her the benefit of the doubt instead and acknowledge that she’s taking their time into consideration, but that would require me to be the bigger person right now, and I don’t know, she’s fucking with my head. Why am I still here waiting for her to make up her mind about something when I’m not given the same consideration?
Screw this.
I’m late from my break. The guys will be looking for me if Lola isn’t already. Runni
ng my hand through my hair, I start for the corner to go around back.
Chloe asks, “Can we talk? The cab’s waiting, so I won’t keep you long.”
My feet stop with my back to her. Do we really have anything more to talk about? I felt like it was left pretty fucking cut and dry.
But when I turn back to her, my eyes land on the Salvation sign above her head. I’m not one to believe in signs, but if there was ever a time to, this is it.
I glance down at the tattoo on my finger, the other half of the one that still scars her body. Salvation.
Call it grace coming over me, but in regard to the future, I start to rethink my position on the damage she’s done. Maybe she didn’t ruin it. Maybe she righted it.
She deserves to be heard, to get a few things off her chest that might also give me the peace I’m seeking. It’s a chance we never gave each other with guards standing by and thick glass dividing us. “Sure,” I reply, leaning against the brick wall. I blame the chip on my shoulder for standing there and making her come to me. She doesn’t seem to mind and moves closer. She always was better than me.
The slight wobble of her ankles has me studying her body language. With her hands out to give her balance, I realize she’s been drinking. Heavily.
“Are you drunk?”
Holding two fingers close together, she eyes me through the small space. “A little, but I still want to talk.”
All the mercy I was giving now seems like a bad idea. Nothing good ever comes from drunken confrontations. Rivers of emotions are hard enough to steer before alcohol drags us into deeper oceans. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Chloe.”
She moves closer, and then her eyes close as she savors the moment—a small smile on her face and a deep inhale. “I always loved the way you said my name.” It was something I loved that she did as well . . . maybe I still do. She looks back at the cab, and then to me. “I want you to know that—”
A horn blasts through our conversation, and Ruby leans out the window, “Come on, Chlo.”
Being on borrowed time makes me anxious, so I ask, “That what? What do you want me to know?”
Staring into my eyes, she takes another step closer, leaving little room for misunderstanding. “Joshua, I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I’m just so—”
“Hey Josh? What are you doing out here?”
Shit.
I push off the bricks and tilt my head covering the distance beyond Chloe to find Lola at the front door. When it comes to me, her curiosity usually gets the best of her. It’s no different for her now as she glances back and forth between me and Chloe. “I’ll be right there, Lola.”
Please go back inside, I silently beg.
Chloe turns to look, and I see the chance we’d been given drift away. Lola nods before returning inside. “Don’t be long.”
When Chloe’s eyes meet mine, the light that shone has faded along with the smile she was trying to confine just seconds prior. “I won’t keep you,” she says, standing steadier on her feet. The other side of my life is exposed in a sobering reality.
Rushing between her and the taxi, I say, “We can still talk.”
“You’re wanted inside.” Pushing past me, she stumbles from those damn shoes, her arms flying into the air.
I reach out to catch her from falling. Our breaths come heavy as I remain wrapped around her from the side, holding her still. When she tilts her head up, I’m covered in her hair. Taking advantage of the situation, I inhale her into my lungs once again. Floral with hints of vanilla. It’s been too long, but the scent awakens my body, and my heart starts thudding in my chest.
Despite the noisy street, I bet she can hear it. I help her stand upright, righting her on her feet. “Are you okay?”
Flipping her hair out of her face, she raises her chin, pride keeping her from laughing, or crying, about it. I can’t read her and that fucking pisses me off. “I’m fine,” she says, untangling from me. “Just fine, Josh.”
Josh . . . that name is not right coming from her mouth, but I have my own shit to deal with. This landslide of fucked feelings has become an avalanche that’s too late to avoid. I move away from her, needing the space and clarity I still can’t seem to find. “Good.”
“Good?” Her eyelids dip closed as she struggles to catch her breath. “Right.” Thumbing behind her, she says, “They’re waiting.”
“Yeah.”
Her gaze darts from me to the door and back again. “And Lola’s waiting on you.”
Why does this make me feel worse than I did before? Fuck. I hate leaving things like this, but I have to. “I need to get back.”
A self-righteous, “Good luck,” is tossed my way as she opens the door to the taxi.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Just seemed like something nice to say to someone you’ll never see again.”
“You sure about that?”
Her face tightens in thought. With a twist of her lips, her hand finds her hip. “Yes. I’m sure it’s a nice thing to say.”
Her pissy is still cute even though her anger comes with a side of claws. Fuck me. I can’t afford to get caught up in her again, so I say, “I was talking about the never seeing me part,” and head for the restaurant.
“I’m not worried about that,” she shouts defiantly.
Shaking my head, I know I shouldn’t do it. She’s drunk. She’s talking shit like she knows what the hell she’s talking about. Fuck it. Against my better judgment, I engage. “Out of eight million people, we’ve run into each other three times in recent months. That’s practically a statistical anomaly.” Infuriated, I fling my arms out from my sides and grit my teeth. “Yet here we are, proving those statistics wrong.”
“Technically, the statistics are higher than you think. I researched it.”
“Of course, you did.” I leave that little sarcastic bomb at her feet just to see what happens.
She scoffs, shooing away the possibility that something bigger might be at play, and states, “Years ago, I might have believed you, but fate isn’t based in science for a reason. There’s no proof it exists, so if that’s what you’re using as your baseline, you’re dead wrong.” She ducks into the cab like that tattoo means nothing and slams the door shut.
“It was good seeing you again,” I say tight-lipped with a flick of my wrist. “Good luck.” Fine, I’m being petty by letting her get to me, but what-the fuck-ever. Why do I care?
With the window still down, I hear Ruby squeal, “Again?”
The car pulls away from the curb, but I see Chloe’s eyes following me inside. Because, like her, I couldn’t leave without one last look. The door to Salvation doesn’t have a chance to close before Lola asks, “What’s going on?”
“Ran into an old friend.” The lie fits better than the truth where Lola’s concerned.
“She wasn’t that old by the look of her, and she sure is pretty.” I appreciate the lack of jealousy to her tone. It could have gone either way really.
“Yes, she is very pretty.”
Leaning on the podium, studying me, she whispers, “I heard shouting.”
“It’s just something we do.”
“Can you do it somewhere else next time? A table by the window complained.”
“Then comp them.” I walk through the dining room, thinking about Chloe as I make my way back to the kitchen. Unfortunately, she’s too pretty for me to ignore. But it’s not her looks that have me wanting to see her again. It’s that connection we share that has never gone away.
40
Chloe
“What did he mean by ‘seeing you again’?” Ruby is not going to let this go. She’s tipsy, loud, and fixated on me. She also gets the primo seat to this investigation since she’s sitting in the middle of the back-seat bench.
I shrug, hoping she believes it’s no big deal. “He came to the ER a while back, and I treated him. That’s all.”
“As a patient?”
“
No, as my ex who’s come back from the dead to haunt me,” I snap. “Of course, as my patient.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? I think seeing Josh Evans is worth a mention.”
My mom starts rubbing her temple, and then says, “I think Ruby’s right, Chloe. Seeing Josh again is a very big deal, considering the past, but to see him twice . . . well, I worry about you. It took you years to get over him. You went to therapy—”
“I also went to therapy because my dad betrayed me.”
She concedes. “That’s understandable, but I want to focus on Josh. He was your first love. Your first everything.” The placating tone does me no favors. It actually does the opposite and riles me up. I’m tempted to tell them this is the third time since we’re all up in this situation—back in the day, we would have calculated that it was our third date . . . How can I remember that small detail and still not remember the accident?
Now I’m rubbing my temple as the beginning of a dull throb joins this party.
I keep the details of Josh and me a secret. They’d blow this up even more, so I need to calm down and keep my wits to avoid an argument that doesn’t need to happen. “I know. You don’t have to remind me.” Scanning the street, I’m tempted to escape the back of this cab, to just open the door and run. Run as far as I can. My feet ache being in these shoes, though, so I say, “I’m fine.”
Ruby sits back. My mom sighs, and then says, “You’re doing so well—great job, steady income. I worry that seeing him again might set you back or throw you off the track you’re on.”
My mouth drops open. “Wait, let me get this straight. Hours ago, you ambushed me with an intervention concerning my sex life—”
“Social life,” my mom corrects.
“Either way, my life. You drag me out on the town apparently for my benefit, and now you’re telling me my life was fine in the first place. I can’t keep up with your standards for my life. Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it like I’ve always done?”
