One Percenter (Entangled Embrace)

by D. R. Graham

  He smiles. “You’re worried about what I might think?”

  Flustered, I shake my head. “No, I don’t know, it just wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “It looked like you were giving a gay guy a cover story to keep the homophobic assholes off his case.”

  “Oh, okay, then it was what it looked like. Do you think it will work?” I slide my hands into my back pockets, which stretches my T-shirt over my chest and definitely catches his attention.

  “Uh, yeah.” He chuckles. “So, do I have to be gay to get a kiss like that?”

  “I kiss straight guys better than that.”

  He angles his face up at the sky and whispers, “Thank you.” He looks back at me and takes a sip from his plastic cup.

  I have to admit that it’s fun flirting, but that’s not why I came back to talk to him, exactly. “Can we keep that incident at the bar quiet?”

  He smiles. “If you go out to dinner with me.”

  “At what point does persistence cross the line into stalking?”

  “I think once there is some form of hiding in the bushes involved.”

  Okay, he’s kind of funny. I’ll give him that. “When do you predict you’ll cross that line?”

  “If you don’t agree to a date by Friday, people might start calling me Peeping Tom.”

  “You obviously don’t consider a boyfriend a deterrent.”

  He stretches his arm past my ear and rests his palm on the house. “I would, but I heard that you and your boyfriend broke up on Saturday night.”

  I steal the cup out of his hand and take a sip. “How did you hear that?”

  “I was playing tennis at the club on Sunday morning and I ran into your uncle. I asked him about you, and he kind of let it slip that you might be recently single. That’s why I figured it would be okay to send you the flowers.” He leans in closer and whispers in my ear, “Was it okay?”

  Whoa. This is moving too fast. The last thing I need right now is a rebound with a sexy Tommy Hilfiger grandson look-alike who actually has more game than I thought. Flirty time is over. “You seem like a pretty decent guy, Landon, or Leland, or Peeping Tom—whatever you want to call yourself.”

  “But?”

  “I have so much baggage I need a U-Haul to lug it around. My dad died only two months ago and they still don’t know who did it. Living with my aunt and uncle and getting used to their lifestyle is a huge adjustment since I’ve been living in a polar opposite way for the past eighteen years. I’m in over my head at my new job, and I have a really important play audition coming up. My mom is in the hospital. And to top it all off, less than forty-eight hours ago I broke up with my boyfriend of almost three years. I need time to focus and figure everything out without complicating my life with a new guy.”

  He nods and looks down at his leather sandals. “I’m a good listener if you just want to talk.”

  I exhale slowly. Surprisingly, it does feel better to talk openly about it, but it’s probably not a good idea since I hardly know him. “Thanks, I might take you up on that offer once I’ve settled in. I need some time, though.”

  “That’s fair.” He doesn’t sound like he’s just trying to wheel me anymore. I don’t know how to respond to that, so I just stand motionless, except for my heart that is jerking around in a slightly alarming way. After a moment, he leans in and kisses my cheek. “Take all the time you need to sort out your baggage.”

  I’m shocked that he seems as if he sincerely wants whatever is best for me. It makes me feel the way I do when I have to perform a solo, self-conscious and adoring the attention at the same time. “Thanks for understanding.” I take a step back, then turn to go. Part way down the path, I look over my shoulder. He’s watching me go, and I find myself smiling at him. God, he’s cute. And so not what I need in my life right now.

  Unfortunately, complications seem to be my thing.

  Chapter Seven

  My first three weeks at the design firm have been all about learning how to act like a young businesswoman and pretending that I can see the difference between “Cloudy Sky Blue” and “Silver Mist on the Lake Blue.” My free time is spent either at the country club with Cara learning how to act like a wealthy member, or at the theater learning how to be good at all the acting I’ve been doing in my real life. It’s not that hard to fit in at the country club. Just smile a lot and pretend like I’m interested in what they’re talking about. Fitting in at work is a little more difficult because I actually have to prove that I can handle the assignments, plus I have to combat my genetic predisposition to dropping f-bombs when I screw up.

  Cara and her friends aren’t exactly what I would call cool, but they’re not lame either. We mostly lounge around at the indoor pool, work out at the fitness center, or gorge on the Sunday brunch buffet. Cara and I also eat lunch together during the week. Leland and I have run into each other a couple times at the club, but he’s been cool about giving me my space. He just says hi and smiles before heading to the tennis courts.

  My mom bailed on treatment, as usual. She’s home, and Uncle Terry is living there for now. Cooper visits her almost every day. I don’t really know why he wastes his time. She’s never going to change. I haven’t seen her since we moved out, and the guilt that I feel about that is buried so deep now I barely notice it.

  It’s Gylly’s twenty-first birthday today. I’ve been missing him a lot, but if I call I’ll have to start back at step one of trying to get over him. Up until today, I’ve been pretty good at convincing myself that it’s better if I don’t cave in and go back to him. All I have to do is compare my aunt and uncle’s lives to my mom and dad’s lives and my resolve becomes iron clad. Today, though, I’ve been crying on and off since I woke up, and I can’t think of one reason why it’s better if I don’t call him.

  There’s a knock at my door. “Hey Tienne,” Elizabeth sings cheerfully as she pops her head into my room. “Blaine and I are going to the club for that fundraiser dance. Would you like to come with us?”

  “No, thanks. I’m not in the mood to go dancing.”

  She steps into my room and sits on the edge of my bed. “What’s wrong?”

  I start crying. Shit. I hide my face in my hands and suck in deep breaths to make the emotion stop.

  Her hand gently touches my leg. “I hope this isn’t about Cassidy being hard on you at work. She can be demanding, but she told me you’re actually catching on faster than she anticipated.”

  “It’s not about work. Cassidy has been great.”

  “Did something happen in theater? Did you get cut from the play?”

  I shake my head and swipe my palms across my cheeks.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s Gylly’s birthday.”

  “Oh, is she an old friend of yours?”

  “He.”

  “Jilly is a guy?”

  “Not Jilly with a J, Gylly with a G, as in Gyllenhall.”

  “Oh. Aiden.” She looks down at her lap. “Are you going to go see him?”

  I hug my pillow to my chest. “I don’t want to see him. I mean, I do want to see him, but I don’t want to see him. Does that make any sense?”

  “Yes.” She closes her eyes and smiles as if she’s remembering something. “If it were easy to stay away from guys like Gylly, your mom probably would have married Chet.”

  “Who’s Chet?”

  “He was a guy we went to school with. His father was an investment banker and his mother’s family owned an insurance chain. He was incredibly sweet and treated your mom really well, but she couldn’t stay away from your dad. Your dad was as handsome as Cooper and he could talk his way into and out of things even better than you do.” She chuckles. “There is nothing more dangerous than a bad-boy with charm.”

  “Gylly’s not really like the rest of them.”

  “That’s what your mom always said about your dad.” She raises her eyebrow in a cautionary way. “Gylly’s father is the president of the Noir et Bleu, isn’t he
?”

  I nod and tap my thumbnail against my teeth, fully aware of what that means for Aiden’s career path.

  She sighs and waits for a while to see if I have anything else to add. What else is there to say? It is what it is. She stands and leans over to kiss my forehead. “I think Cooper’s friend, Sam, is dropping by later to pick him up for the dance. If you change your mind, you can tag along with them. It might be good to have a distraction.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She leaves and I try to read through the part in the play I’m auditioning for, but I can’t focus. I can’t stop thinking about Aiden. There has not been a year since I was born that I wasn’t at Aiden’s birthday party. It feels incredibly strange to know that his friends are probably all over at his dad’s house and I’m not there. I should be there. As his friend. There is no reason why I can’t still be nice to him. Strictly as his friend.

  I shower and dress in some of my old clothes: tight black pants, a low-cut black sleeveless top, and black boots. The ring Gylly gave me is in my bedside table drawer. I look at it every night before I go to sleep, but I haven’t put it on my finger since he gave it to me. I don’t want to wear it, but for some reason I don’t want to see him without it either. I string it onto a necklace, then walk down the hall and lean on Cooper’s open bedroom door.

  He’s sitting at his desk using his laptop. He looks over his shoulder and smiles when he sees my outfit. “Are you going to see Gylly?”

  I shrug, because I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. He nods and presses his lips together. I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks it would be a bad idea to go see Gylly, or if he thinks it’s about time. “It’s his birthday,” I say as I pick at the paint on the doorframe.

  “I know. I called him this morning.”

  “Really?” Wow. “What did you say?”

  He chuckles, as if it’s a stupid question. “Happy birthday.”

  It feels weird that Cooper knows more about what’s going on with him than I do. Nobody has ever known more about Aiden than I do. “What did he say?”

  “He asked if you were doing okay.”

  More importantly, “Is he dating anyone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I twirl my hair around my fingers. My head is screaming at me to change and go to the dance. “What should I do?”

  “Whatever your heart wants you to do.”

  “But what if my heart wants what isn’t good for me?”

  “Aiden is like family. That’s all I know. You have to figure out the rest.”

  Yeah, family. And it’s his birthday. “How do I look?”

  “Smokin’. How do I look?” He stands and spins around. He’s wearing expensive tapered trousers, leather shoes, a gray dress shirt, and a motorcycle-styled canvas jacket.

  “Very GQ. The girls are going to go crazy.”

  He laughs and poses like a model.

  God, I adore him. He is the best brother in the world. He might possibly be the best human being in the world. I walk over and hug him around his waist. “Love you, Lucky Boy.”

  “Love you, T Bear. If you don’t go see Gylly, come by the dance.”

  “We’ll see. Don’t get a ride with anyone who has been drinking.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  I chuckle as I wave and then leave the house. The drive to our old neighborhood takes fifteen minutes. I didn’t intend to stop at our old house, but somehow I end up here, watching my mom through the kitchen window. She seems a little twitchy, but at least she’s up and doing things. It looks as if she’s cooking dinner. Uncle Terry is at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. She must have asked him something because he folds the paper down and smiles at her before answering. She laughs and looks pretty for a second.

  Terry is the second oldest of the four Desrochers brothers. My dad was the eldest. Terry is probably most like my dad in looks and personality. He has three kids, ages eight, eleven, and thirteen. His wife tells everyone they’re divorced, but he stays with them when he’s in town and she doesn’t ever date anyone else. Terry takes really good care of them. They have an estate in the country about thirty minutes away from here with horses and ATVs. They also go on expensive holidays to Europe or the Mediterranean every year. I guess if my mom weren’t a junkie we would have had the money to do things like that.

  I watch them for a while before driving over to Gylly’s place just one street over. I park three houses down. There are about twenty bikes and five trucks in the driveway and on the front lawn. The music blasting from the house is mostly Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne, and a few Aerosmith songs that might have been thrown in for my benefit despite my absence.

  I sit in the car for two hours listening to the music. Every once in a while bursts of cheers or laughter rise up. More bikes turn the corner and I sink down in the seat as they ride right past me toward his house. My hand is resting on the door handle, and eventually I pull it. The door opens a crack. The evening air swirls in, carrying with it the notes of the music and the familiar voices of my old life.

  After a long hesitation, I close my eyes and lean back on the headrest, then click the door shut. My phone is sitting on the passenger seat. I pick it up and touch the screen to open a picture of Aiden. My finger hovers as I debate whether I should call. The screen eventually turns black. I throw the phone back on the passenger seat and turn the key in the ignition.

  The corner store, where we used to hang out when we were kids, is down the street. Seeing it brings back a lot of memories. I pull into the parking lot and stare at the phone booth. I used to use it all the time before I got my own cell phone. I know it’s a bad idea, but I get out of the car and lean against the booth. It takes ten minutes to muster the nerve to pick up the phone and drop in the change. My entire body trembles as I dial his number. Each ring lasts an eternity. I gasp like a goldfish out of its bowl.

  Finally, Aiden answers. “Yeah,” he shouts over the music.

  I freeze. His voice is beautiful. Shit. I’m crying. It feels like I’m going to choke.

  “Hello,” he says, his tone gentle. “Hold on.” I hear him walking, then the music is muted as if he went into a bedroom and closed the door. “Ti?”

  My crying gets heavier and I cover my mouth so he can’t hear my sobs.

  “Ti. Talk to me.”

  All I can make is a weird whimpering sound.

  “Don’t cry, babe.” His voice is holding back emotion and there is a pause before he asks, “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

  I shake my head and wipe the tears off my cheeks with my palm.

  He’s silent for a long time before he exhales slowly and clears his throat. He never cries, but I can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. “I miss you, Ti.”

  Tingles spread over the surface of my skin. My heart races like I was just chased down a dark alley. Struggling for oxygen, I lean my forehead against the phone. What was I thinking? I can’t be near him and not be with him. My mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out.

  Some guy yells in the background at the party. “Gylly! Where the fuck are you, man? We want to have the cake.” Zeke barks. Oh, I miss him too.

  “Come over, Ti. It won’t feel like my birthday if you’re not here. We don’t have to talk about things. I just want to see your face.”

  I bite my fingernail for a second and then clench my eyes shut. I want to see his face, too. So badly. There is nothing I want more, except a life that isn’t an exact replica of my mom’s.

  The sound of the music gets louder again as if the door opened. A girl’s voice says, “Come on, sexy, everybody’s waiting for you.”

  “I’m on the phone.”

  “With who? All your friends are here.”

  “No, they’re not. Give me a minute.” The music is dull again, so she must have closed the door. “I love you, Ti. Thanks for calling,” Aiden whispers into the phone.

  I listen to him breathing and commit the sound to memory. Eventually, I
reach up and slowly press my finger down on the lever to hang up. When the buzz of the dial tone echoes in my ear, I whisper, “I love you, too. Happy birthday.”

  “Damn, bitch. Say what you gotta say and get gone. I gots bizness to do.” A skinny meth head is standing outside the phone booth yelling at me.

  “You want to use the phone?” The pitch of my voice is way too high. “You’ve got some important ‘bizness’ to do? Here you go.” I slam the earpiece against the booth like a crazy person. It smashes into pieces and the internal workings of the receiver fly through the air.

  “Hey, what the hell?”

  I hand him the plastic remnants dangling from the cable. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  I get in the car, then peel out and drive toward the country club. I can’t even see properly through the tears. The lines on the road are blurred. When I get to the club parking lot, I climb out of the Mercedes, but lean against the hood instead of going inside. Hearing the crappy band playing makes me feel like I don’t want to be anywhere. I don’t want to be home. I don’t want to be at Blaine and Elizabeth’s. I don’t want to be at Gylly’s. I really don’t want to be at a lame country club dance.

  “Hey,” a voice comes from behind me. Leland stands near the driver’s door of my car. “What’s wrong?”

  I hug my body and sniffle back the last of the tears. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Do you want to go for a drive?”

  “Yes.” Definitely. Take me away.

  He reaches his arm out to hold my hand, which I don’t resist, and leads me to his Audi. He opens the passenger door for me, then jogs around the back and slides into the driver’s seat. “Do you care where we go?”

  I shake my head.

  He smiles and starts the car. The radio is on softly. He smells good. He looks good too. He’s wearing dark trousers and a V-neck sweater. Aiden doesn’t even own a sweater.

  “So, you’re having a bad night?”

  I nod and bite at my lower lip, not sure how to elaborate.

  “The band at the club is brutal, but I wouldn’t get too upset over it.”