The Replacement

by Wade, Rachael

  In this moment, I realize Christian and I are very different.

  “You barely know me,” I say evenly, fixing my gaze on his. “You know my body. That’s not the same thing.”

  He falters for a second, but he’s not the least bit deterred. He’s confident, his naked body remaining steadfast and still. “I know a lot about you.”

  “You know only what I tell you.”

  “Nothing you tell me will change my mind.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.” I shake my head and something in the back of my skull screams for me to find that damn scarf and get the hell out of his house. Right now. “Does Kylie know about me?”

  “Our divorce has nothing to do with you, Elise.”

  “Does she know about me?” I repeat sternly.

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “A while.”

  “Shit.” I spin and start rifling around for the scarf, my movements erratic.

  “Please don’t take off like this. Talk to me.” He reaches out to me, but fails to make contact, his open palm hanging in the air.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. This won’t work, I’m sorry.”

  “I care about you, Elise. I want to take care of you.”

  I laugh again. This time it’s got some bite to it. “You want to own me, that’s what you want.”

  “I want a relationship. With you. No one else. And I want you all to myself, yes. I won’t apologize for it. I don’t care about the other men you’ve been seeing. Stop seeing them. Move in with me.”

  I gasp as I find my scarf, unable to process what he’s saying without going completely fucking mental. “Move in with you?”

  “I know you have feelings for me, too.”

  “Whatever gave you that impression?” I gesture wildly in the air, my hands flailing at my sides, the tension building in me like hot lava. “Wait, let me guess…you assume that from the way I beg you to let me orgasm? The way I say your name as I come? Because I say I need you? That I want you?”

  That does it. A flicker of hurt flashes over his features, but he recovers quickly. “I see it in your eyes. Every time you look at me, you’re searching for something. I feel it in the way you touch me, the way you drop everything to come see me when I call. You think I don’t know about the others? Well, I do. I know when you’re with them because you don’t answer. You take time to call me back. But you’re never gone for long. You spend time with me, more time than you ever give to them. I know that much. That tells me something, Elise.”

  “Yeah, it should tell you that I like sleeping with you. That’s all.”

  “No.” He strides forward, placing his hands softly on my arms. “You need something from me and I can give it to you. Something those other dumbasses can never give you.”

  I flinch from his touch. Not because it doesn’t feel good. It always feels good. He’s always careful with me, even when he’s impaling me like a wild caveman in bed. “What, money and college tuition?” I snicker, stepping back. “You can’t buy me, Christian.”

  “You know that’s not what I want. You want more, too. I know you do, damn it. So let’s not dance around it.”

  My mouth goes slack and I’m about to respond, but the chime of his cell phone interrupts my train of thought. “You should get that.” I eye the phone, then the bedroom door.

  “It can wait.”

  “It’s Kylie, you know it is.”

  His jaw flexes and his eyes dart from me to the phone, then back. He knows I’m right, and he also knows he can’t keep avoiding her calls. Not when she’s due home tonight. He may be leaving her and she may know about me, but I’m certain he wants to avoid that potential shit storm just as much as I do. “Damn it,” he murmurs, moving for the phone. He answers and stops to give me a silent, pleading look before he slips out of the room to handle the call.

  And I take that as my exit cue.

  Wrapping my scarf around my neck and collecting my bag, I wait until I hear his voice disappear down the hall. I pull my car key from my bag and count to ten. With a deep breath, I quietly open the bedroom door and peek out into the hallway.

  The coast is clear.

  I zip through the hall and down the elaborate stairwell, slithering through the front door and making it to my car just in time. I rev the engine and speed off, catching a glimpse of Christian’s solemn face in the living room window, through the rearview mirror. He’s standing there, pulling the curtain aside, the phone still held to his ear. I watch only for a second, turning to give my attention to the road. My foot powers down on the gas pedal, and I don’t want to imagine what Christian must be thinking, watching me drive away like this. But I know what I’m thinking.

  This will be the last time I ever see Christian Walker.

  CHAPTER 3

  The red, white, and blue ad stares back at me, glamorous and elusive. Entirely untouchable for someone like me, someone who lives off of tips and a small hourly wage. If it weren’t for the money my mom left me when she passed, I wouldn’t have even been able to pull off this one-bedroom apartment. The money wasn’t much, but it had helped me get on my feet while I searched for a job and put a plan together.

  My mom’s money ran out quickly, but Jay’s generosity has helped me get by on what I make at Stella’s. He’s always given me the boom shifts, as he calls them—early a.m. and late p.m. Between those shifts and the doubles I pick up as often as possible, I sometimes luck out and bank. It also works to my advantage that Stella’s is in a prime location on the harbor, and that it is one of the oldest establishments around, voted Best Food in Town by the locals year after year. Business is even better during the summer, when tourists roll in. Gig Harbor is an expensive place to live, especially doing what I do, with no roommate, but it is important to me to stay put. This is where the memories of my mom live, and I grew up with Tee here, too.

  Tee moved away after high school. She went to school in Portland and we eventually lost touch, something I never thought would happen. She was family to me, not some casual friend I’d shared a biology class with. The idea that we simply drifted apart was unnatural for two people who were so inseparable. When she stopped calling and her visits to Gig Harbor lessened and lessened, a little part of me died. I’m not too proud to admit that.

  Tee is the only person I’ve ever truly trusted. I was there when she came out to her parents, there when her heart was broken by her first girlfriend, and there when a group of hateful dumbasses jumped her in the high school parking lot one night. We were outnumbered that night, and I took the brunt of their anger too, so she didn’t have to bear it alone. I could’ve run, but I would never run from Tee. She’d never run on me.

  Except maybe now.

  I didn’t always sleep around. That didn’t start until college. My mom might not have needed me anymore, and my dad might not have wanted me, but that was easily remedied. The world was full of needy people. Like Brian, a guy I hooked up with at my first official college party.

  He said his girlfriend, Joanna, was making him wait for a year to have sex, and he told me he couldn’t wait anymore. He threw in a few compliments about how gorgeous I was, and three shots of tequila later, I let him take me back to his dorm. I knew I’d crossed over that night, sleeping with someone else’s man. It wasn’t long after that I met Tim. By then, I was an expert at making myself pay for hurting the Joannas of the world, and Tim was the perfect source of atonement. I never let myself dwell too long on atonement, though.

  The reality was the Joannas of the world didn’t share the plight that girls like me shared. They didn’t have to degrade themselves for a little attention or affection. They didn’t have to prove their worth, show the world there was more to them than just skinny legs and a pretty complexion. They were awarded love on a silver platter. Girls like me had to fight dirty.

  After Tee was long gone, I graduated from campus floosy to town whore, but the memories of the closest women in my life kept me rooted to
this town, no matter how much of an outcast I’d become. You couldn’t pay me to leave this place. Unless it was to travel to France.

  I tap my pen over the newspaper ad, reading it for the thousandth time. I see the same one every other week, when the Gig Harbor Weekly runs it for the French school. It’s a tiny, private school up the road, run by three teachers who offer one-on-one and group lessons. I’ve heard that people of all ages, from all walks of life study there. Students, widowers, and businessmen alike. Since withdrawing from college, I’ve given up on my goal to earn a French language degree. There is no way I’ll ever be able to afford school. Not anytime soon, anyway. Unless I take Christian up on his offer.

  Yeah. Not happening.

  So, Les Trois Enfants, as the school is called, is the next best thing to earning a degree. I’d be happy just to learn to speak, maybe even be conversationally fluent one day. I’ve been teaching myself here and there over the years, and I took French instead of Spanish in high school, but I don’t remember much from those classes, and I can only make it so far learning on my own.

  I stare at the ad for another second, then force myself to my feet to pour some coffee. I have to be at work by 6 a.m., and I’m really dragging this morning. After escaping Christian’s yesterday, I came home and showered, then paced my living room for two hours, reciting verb conjugations with my audio lessons.

  Christian never called. I don’t blame him. He probably wised up and realized just how out of his mind he’d been to even entertain the thought of being with me. I’d miss his kindness, miss the sex. But in truth, that’s all I’d miss. How else could I miss him? I knew nothing about the guy, other than the basics he’d shared with me over the course of our time together, but I knew enough to know he wouldn’t be good for me.

  And I sure as hell wouldn’t be good for him.

  After I finished listening to my lessons, I read for a while and attempted to sleep, but had no luck. I tossed and turned all night, replaying my conversation with Christian over and over again, wondering how my time with him went from what it was to what it is now in a matter of a day. The fact that I lost sleep over a man is surprising, even to me.

  I finish my coffee and head out the door, happy to see cars in the parking lot when I roll up to the diner. It’s going to be a good morning. Maybe I’ll make enough to put a few bucks in my dream jar when I get home. It’s a large, decorated mason jar—my version of a piggy bank—that I’ve been using for the past few years to stash extra cash away for my goal to get to France someday. I’ve been close to filling it up a few times, but something always happens. Last month, I needed new tires. Six months ago, I was late on rent. Then there was the unexpected medical bill, when I sprained my ankle over the summer.

  Each time I make progress, I take ten steps back.

  “Morning,” I greet Natalie, who’s been working the early shifts with me lately. My voice is still as tired as my body, but my mood is oddly peppy despite the lack of sleep.

  “You’re way too pretty in the morning,” she whines, rubbing at her eyes as she begins to tie her apron. “It’s so unfair.”

  I smirk, clocking in and grabbing a notepad. “I’m beginning to get the impression you’re not a morning person.”

  “There is something ungodly about being awake before the sun is up. It’s just wrong on so many levels.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” I assure her, smoothing back a stray strand of hair. “And it’s good money.” I smile and stroll around the counter to the first table needing service. I hear the radio break the diner’s silence with some Golden Oldies, and I know Jay is here, firing up the radio in the back.

  “Morning, hon,” he says as he saunters past me while I finish taking the table’s order. “You look awfully bright eyed and bushy tailed today.”

  “Do I?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m hurting this morning.”

  “Rough night?” He moves from table to table, making sure the napkin holders are full. These are the little things his waiters normally take care of, but Jay is always on the ball. He’s the kind of guy to go above and beyond, especially when it comes to his business. This place is his life blood and his legacy, and the fact that he sees himself as equal to his staff has always been admirable to me.

  “Nah, not that kind of rough night. Just didn’t sleep much, that’s all.”

  “Sorry to hear it. Good news is the rush will hit soon, and you’ll be so busy, you won’t have time to think about how tired you are. You’ll be home before you know it.” He smiles brightly and I find myself smiling, too. Jay has that affect.

  Thankfully, he’s right about the rush. The morning flies by, and in a few short hours, I’m heading outside to my car with a pocketful of cash and a dizzy head.

  “Hey, Elise?” Natalie calls out, rushing out after me as I open my car door. “I know you’re probably beat, but do you want to go grab an early lunch? I was thinking about checking out that new nail salon around the corner afterward. You up for a mani and pedi?” She asks me so casually, I find myself fixated on her face for a moment. Her expression is so honest, so innocent. I study the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks, and the way her red hair parts neatly on one side.

  I duck and slide into the car.

  “Sorry, Natalie. I’ve got errands to run today, and I really am exhausted. Plus I told Jay I’d like to pick up a double tonight since Jane took the day off. I need to get home and get some sleep before I go back in. Thanks, though.”

  She smiles sweetly and keeps moving toward me. “Okay, I understand. But just so you know…” She stops when she reaches my car door, watches as I roll down the window. “Well, I just wanted to say that I don’t care about the things this town says about you. And that guy Tim is a prick. You deserve better than that.”

  I gaze at her through the open window and grip the steering wheel. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.” She rolls a shoulder. “I mean, I just wanted to put that out there. I know I’m still new around here, but I’ve worked with you for a while now, and that gossip doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m game for hanging out any time. Just say when.”

  I fall back against the driver seat, letting my hands drop from the steering wheel. “Glad to hear it. Thanks,” I say numbly, waiting for her to scurry off. She’s wasting her time here.

  “I’m serious,” she insists, leaning on the edge of my car window. “People should just mind their own damn business, if you ask me. You should come hang out with me and Nate sometime. Maybe do a double date. You seeing anyone right now?”

  A small laugh escapes me and I snort, knowing damn well she knows I’m seeing someone right now. I roll my eyes up to hers, then narrow them.

  “Okay, okay,” she laughs and pushes herself off the car door to raise her hands in defense. “Look, I’m just saying the offer stands. You’re welcome to join us any time.”

  “Cool. I’ll think about it.” No, I won’t. “See you later.”

  “See ya.”

  She waves and I drive off, wondering if she’ll ever get the hint.

  ***

  I make it halfway home before realizing my errands aren’t done yet. I’ve already swung by the bank and post office, but it hits me that I need to grab a few things from the grocery store. I meander down the shampoo aisle, picking my way through the five different shampoo products. I settle on my favorite, one with a strawberry scent. Christian likes this one. I don’t linger on this thought.

  “Hey, don’t I know you?” a voice drifts toward me and I turn, finding a cute, boyish face I recognize. His blonde hair is messy in a stylish way. His smile forms little creases in the corners of his eyes. He’s standing in front of the soaps, giving me a friendly grin.

  “Yeah, we just met at the diner. Natalie’s Nate, right?”

  “That’d be me,” he laughs. “It’s Elise, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “We were just talking about you, actually. I was on the phone with Nat before I came to the store.�
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  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, she mentioned something about all of us hanging out. She said you’re seeing someone? I guess she thought maybe we could all do a double date soon.”

  I give him a tight smile, tossing the strawberry shampoo into my basket. “She did mention something like that, yeah.”

  “Well, I say we do it. I mean, I’m always up for meeting new people. Especially since I’m new to town.”

  I clear my throat and decide to redirect the conversation instead of brushing him off entirely. It’s not his fault his girlfriend is dragging him into her quest to befriend me, and it doesn’t hurt to be polite. This dude is so sweet, he makes my teeth hurt. “How are you liking Gig Harbor? Do you feel like you’re settling in?”

  “I like it,” he says thoughtfully, shuffling a package of soap back and forth, from one hand to the other. “It’s been taking some getting used to, but I’m starting to feel at home.”

  “Good. Well, if you ever want me to show you around, you should give me a call.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I watch him carefully, eyeing him as he digests my offer.

  “Really? Wow, I’d love that, thanks.” I’m waiting for him to say “golly-gee,” or something. His naivety is hard to resist.

  “Definitely. Here,” I say, stepping toward him in the middle of the aisle. I dig in my bag for a pen and grab an old receipt at the bottom of my change purse. I scribble my number and hand it to him, catching a snide look from Bridget Waldorf as she passes by with her shopping cart. I went to high school with her, and she’s just as nosey now as she was back then. She leers at me and then gives Nate a long, immodest stare as she saunters along. “Call me any time,” I finish, speaking to Nate but keeping my glare on Bridget. She disappears to the other end of the aisle and I roll my eyes.