Corsets and Quartets

by DeSimone, Mercy

  Chapter 40

  Blame and Bonfires

  "She's not right," I say as Nate blows out a breath of exasperation.

  "Josie, she's the fifth one you've rejected this week. I thought she was cute, and she had a great personality."

  "She's too young and naÏve. She'll buckle with the first customer that tries to convince her that they can use a twenty-five percent off coupon on a four-hundred-dollar stand mixer. It will cost us more money than she's worth."

  "She's not Kenzie, she's just a little under-seasoned."

  "Well, find me a few who are well-done. I need adults, I'm not running a daycare," I grumble wearily. "I need to find some food. I'm bleary-eyed and hangry."

  "Well, if you would stop coming in here every day you wouldn't have to be!" Nate snaps back, stopping me in my tracks. "When was the last time you slept, Josie? Or had some wild doggy sex with your vet? Go home. Go write a book. Go get laid. Stop hovering and treating me like I don't know how to run things without you! Where the fuck is Emma? Why isn't she talking you down from the ledge?"

  "Emma's out of town seeing clients. She left right after Quill." I grimace.

  I really wish Emma was here. These are the times you need the solidarity of your friends to help you decide where to bury the body, but she had been putting off her trip for weeks to help me get ready for Quill. It seemed selfish to whine to her when she packed visits to all of her accounts across three states in just over a week's time. Still, it's made it harder to let go.

  Some days, it feels like my head is about to explode. I haven't spoken to Mark in a week, not that we used to talk every day. Still, knowing that this is more about fallout than distance is a hard pill to swallow.

  I can't say I'm even looking forward to dinner with Heath tonight. I'm not certain how much he knows about what went down with Mark, and I haven't mentioned it, although it's obvious we need to discuss it. My heart's just not ready to rehash the entire sordid story. I dread the conversation to come, when everything feels like it's unraveling around me.

  "Have you spoken to Mark?" Nate interrupts the thoughts circling in my brain. Get out of my head!

  "Only when he came over to explain."

  "Shouldn't you be happier about that? He apologized, right?"

  "I'm sure he thinks he did," I say dryly. "But how do you forgive the unforgivable?"

  "He's a guy, Josie. We're not that deep. Well, I am, but you know I'm on a whole different level. What did you expect him to say?"

  "I expected him to say he fucked up. That he was truly sorry. Instead, he just tried to defend his actions, and tell me he did me a favor if I lost my job."

  "What? That's a shitty thing to say. Even if he didn't mean it that way."

  "Oh he meant it. In his self-absorbed world, he thought he was going to be a hero and save me in some twisted way. It seems to have escaped him that I wouldn't have needed saving if he hadn't thrown me under the bus to begin with."

  "Josie, please go home. I've got this for now. I swear I'll find us some better help. When is Emma coming back?"

  "Monday."

  "Well, go get your head together. Or get some head. Whichever one makes you feel better. I vote for the latter but…"

  My tired smile gets me a pat on the head as Nate heads to the selling floor, leaving me alone in the office.

  My phone vibrates, and I find a text from Heath confirming that he'll see me at seven. I've also missed another text from Simon. Wearily, I tell myself I'll answer it later, as I realize guiltily I haven't responded to a single message he's sent me this week. Funny, I feel no guilt about not picking up Mark's calls or ignoring his messages.

  Simon's invitations to come write with him are too painful now that I've put Lady Sydney aside. It just seems so pointless. I'll never make money writing, and I certainly can't afford to do it full-time.

  Then there's the fact that I'll need to explain what's happening with the guys. Clearly someone—probably Mark—tipped Simon off, because the messages have become more cautious. Right now, men are a distraction. An unreliable one at that.

  This is where I need to stay focused. I should have been more eager about considering that regional position when Patsy brought it up months ago, instead of channeling so much energy into my dream of writing. It's doubtful I'll get that offer again.

  Stretching, I decide that Nate's right. I've been here every day. I'm going to burn myself out at this rate. I could really use a nap before I see Heath. I need to be clear headed for the conversation to come, and this time, I won't let the wine do the talking.

  * * *

  Damnit! I jerk awake at the sound of my front door opening. I fell asleep on the couch again.

  Heath's legs appear before my eyes. A concerned frown settles on his face as he gazes down at me sprawled on the couch, before sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

  "Hey." His hand sweeps gently through the tangle of my hair. "Are you feeling okay? You don't look so good."

  "I'm fine." Struggling to sit up, I try to disengage myself from the wooly throw and sweep my hands through my hair, pushing it back over my shoulders. My shirt is a rumpled mess, and I'm willing to bet there are creases on my face from the cushions again.

  "How are you? How was the clinic today?"

  "It was fine. Someone brought me a goose. Apparently, they thought it would fly out of their path and were shocked when it just waited for the car to hit it. I'm continually astounded by how much people don't know about the general nature of animals."

  "Did you save it?"

  "No, it was basically a pile of bloody feathers. I think the driver felt like they had to bring it in to justify what they did. Like I was going to absolve them of their guilt."

  "Did you?"

  "Hell, no. Use your damn brakes and your brains! They had kids in the car at the time. They'll probably be scarred for life."

  "Good for you." Swinging my legs off the couch, I lean forward to kiss him, suddenly desperate for some warmth.

  Stroking my cheek, Heath obliges me, his lips meeting mine, tongue sweeping into my mouth and exploring before running his tongue along my own. Pulling back, I simply stare at him while he watches me, the small furrow between his brows deepening as he waits for me to speak.

  "Have you spoken to Mark?" I ask calmly.

  "No. Lori said he's been in New York all week, although he sent me an odd text that made me think you were upset with him. Why, did something happen?"

  "Did he tell you that he was pulling his class from my store?"

  "Yeah, although I never heard the outcome. What did you guys decide to do about that?"

  "What did we decide to do about it? We didn't decide anything. He never told me."

  "But he knew weeks ago. I thought he would have told you then. If he didn't tell you, who did?"

  "My boss," I say flatly, "when we all got put in the hot seat because the network told us we had to pull all of our advertising and cancel the event. I'm lucky I didn't get fired. It was touch and go for a while."

  Heath's deep groan makes me feel infinitely better. I sigh. At last, someone gets it.

  Until he sides with Mark.

  "What an asshole! I told him to give you fair warning. I hope you didn't let him off the hook too quickly."

  "Why would I let him off the hook at all? He's lucky if I ever speak to him again. I told him to go away and asked for my key back. Which I realize now he didn't leave. Typical."

  At my words, Heath straightens, rubbing his hand across his scalp. It’s a tell I've come to realize means he's uncomfortable.

  "Uh, Jos, let's not be hasty here. You can't freeze him out forever. I'm sure he didn't mean it. It was a misunderstanding."

  Pulling away, I stand up, putting space between us.

  "Why are you defending him? He almost got me fired, Heath! Do you know how humiliated I was in front of my boss? I broke all kinds of protocols because I trusted him to keep his word. Or to at least give me a heads up when he coul
dn't keep his promise."

  "I get it, I do. I'm just saying I think he was in a tough spot and handled it badly."

  "Really? Like when Lori and Shana ambushed you at Lulu's and told you how long you had been lied to?"

  Heath's flush of anger tells me I hit a sore point. I'm almost sorry, but I'm getting tired of men making excuses for themselves, yet not seeing when they dismiss someone else's feelings. I rarely go for the kill, but I'm feeling particularly brutal this week.

  "That's beneath you, don't you think?" Heath asks.

  "Not really. I'm tired of being lied to. Mark sold me for a better deal. You knew he was going to fuck me over and didn't warn me. I'm having some trust issues here, Heath. The fact that you can't see that is troubling. Besides, why are you sticking up for Mark? You didn't want him in this relationship to begin with. Is the bro-code suddenly stronger than your commitment to me? Because somewhere down the line, words were exchanged. People told me that they loved me, but I'm finding they have a damn funny way of showing it!"

  I'm shouting now in a way that would normally appall me, but I'm past rational thought. How is this happening? I knew it had to be too good to be true. How many times have I told Emma that men find it impossible to understand what makes us tick? That all we're looking for is somebody dependable? If I can't rely on somebody to show up for me, then why not stick to random guys and buddy fucks? It's a lot less work.

  You don't mean that, my inner harlot whispers.

  Don't I?

  "Josie, I don't know what to say. I get that you're upset, but I don't think you're really considering all sides right now. If nothing else, I'd like to remind you that you were the one that insisted if we were all going into this relationship together, then we needed to discuss difficult issues. As a group. You deciding that Mark is no longer part of the equation is a bit unfair, don't you think?"

  Deflated, I throw myself back on the couch, raising my hands in surrender.

  "Honestly, Heath, I thought you of all people would be thrilled. You never wanted him as part of this. I thought you wanted me exclusively to yourself."

  "So did I, and if that's what happens one day, I won't be upset. That being said, I have to admit there isn't anything wrong with what we've created here. And as much as you're hurt by what you perceive to be Mark's indifference, I know that's not what it was. Bro-code or no, it feels wrong for me to encourage you not to talk this out. It should be all of us together."

  "I was stupid to ever make that a condition. What is that going to prove?"

  "Well for starters, it's going to prove to me that you're willing to work on this relationship. Am I next? Am I going to wake up one day and find that I've inadvertently stumbled across some sacred line in the sand with you? Because I never would have expected this from you. It makes me wonder how much any of us really know each other right now. It's probably time we figure it out before we go any further."

  "Can we ever really know each other that well? Wasn't Lori proof enough of that?" The tightening of Heath's lips remind me that I probably crossed one of his lines, only to have his words confirm it.

  "She was. Which is why you should understand my need for clarity. So why don't you think about that for a while? Call Mark, set up a meeting. Let me know when we're getting together."

  "You're leaving?" I sit upright again in surprise as he stands and makes his way to the door.

  "Is there a reason for me to stay? Are you going to relax and be able to accept that I'm here to be with you and not hurt you?" Heath asks, his hand on the door knob. "I'm not going to spend all night defending myself or Mark. That's going to have to wait for all of us."

  "You should go then." I flop back into the couch, staring at the ceiling above me. "Maybe we all just need a break."

  "Have it your way." The snick of the door latching is all the reason I need to release the tears gathered in the back of my throat.

  * * *

  My heart feels like it's about to jump from my chest, my mind still reeling from the betrayal. Even after several days, I hide away from my humiliation and society as a whole. I wish I had Percy's calming presence to support me now, but he retreated back to the front lines weeks ago to battle his own demons once more.

  Saying goodbye was more difficult than I ever anticipated, his world-weary face tugging at my heart, making me want to hold him tight. Surely those who fight the demons of their own personal wars have earned some respite.

  This is what I always feared most, that when someone upped the ante, Roderick would play the hand most beneficial to his survival, leaving the rest of us as chips to be bargained away. His disregard pains me more than I can bear.

  I send a terse denial again in reply to my maid's knock on the door, disregarding her pleas to enter. Finally, after some moments, a gentle swish sounds as a piece of paper slides under the crack of the door. Reluctantly, I reach for the note, wondering what other bad news thus awaits me in this moment.

  A slight foreboding presages my movements as I break the seal to read the message within. The paper flutters from numb fingers as I stare at the words in disbelief, before rushing to the door to call for a carriage…

  I jerk awake, my mind searching the dwindling remnants of my dream trying to sound a warning in my brain. Only the barest threads remain, mostly the memory of how Roderick's actions brought me shame. I mean, brought Lady Sydney shame.

  Rolling to check the clock, I groan into my pillow before pulling the covers over my head to block the light.

  My insistence on going to work every day is beginning to wear on me. I know it's unreasonable, and suddenly, I find myself wondering if it's even worth it. Maybe Nate's right—if I haven't built enough credibility with my past successes, at this point, nothing I can do will change their opinion.

  Isn't that what Mark said? my inner harlot whispers.

  Yes, but that's different, I dispute. That was because he was trying to deflect the blame.

  It isn't, and you know it.

  Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore.

  No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get ahead of the curve. Job, men, writing—pick a topic, and somehow, it always manages to go off the rails. All the time invested, all the hard work and sweat equity never add up to anything more than an illusion of safety. What does a girl have to do to get some freaking respect in this world? Clearly, working harder at things isn't the answer.

  The intense weariness and achy joints in my body signal defeat. I'm in a slump, and I don't know how to get out of it. I need a new perspective on life. I thought I had it with the guys, but that became just one more clusterfuck, so to speak.

  The thump of a soft body lands next to me, a wet nose nuzzling my ear as if to assure me that everything will be ok. Turning my face into the everpresent warmth of soft fur, I scratch delicately behind Daisy's ears, wondering what our next move should be.

  First things first, I need to make a supermarket run, if only because I'm dangerously low on cat food. While I can work late hours and rely on takeout, Daisy expects wet food every day, even though her bowl is always full of dry cat food. It's such a small thing, but if I can't make myself or anyone else happy, at least I'm committed to taking care of the one person—ok, cat—that asks very little and always shows love and appreciation.

  "It's ok, Baby Cat," I whisper. "One day, we'll get it right. Someone will surprise us."

  The small meep of agreement, accompanied by her large, furry head rubbing against my cheek, comforts the small burn of despair that's settled in the pit of my stomach. Is it possible to have an ulcer at my age?

  You're not getting any younger, babe, inner harlot whispers.

  No, I'm not, which is why I refuse to let this bring me down. But for today, I need a recharge, and that means a day to myself. If I'm not going to spend it writing anymore, I might as well take care of all the other things I've been neglecting—like groceries and laundry.

  Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I shoot Nate a quick text,
letting him know I'm taking a break. Getting a thumbs up in return, I give Daisy one last kiss and roll from the bed to start Operation Bonfire. It's time to set some shit on fire and start fresh again. Maybe Jane had it right after all. If there's anything disagreeable going on, men are sure to get out of it.

  * * *

  The market is even less crowded than I expected, but that's generally the advantage of shopping on a weekday when others are at work. No more bad foods, I vow, even as I drop a pint of my favorite butter pecan ice cream in my cart, before then putting it back in the freezer. The glass case quickly fogs, as if trying to hide all the yummy temptation from my view.

  Is it worth buying the low-cal version? At double the price and half the taste, I think not. Still, I stand indecisively in front of the case, craving comfort. My cart is already full of fresh vegetables and salad greens, although I couldn't bear to add spinach this round. Coconut milk, eggs, chicken breasts, salt and vinegar potato chips—I tick through my mental list, unaware of the people around me, until a hand lightly touches my arm.

  "Josie." Blinking rapidly, I'm surprised to find Shana standing in front of me. Even at this time of the morning, she looks chic in jeans and sneakers. The silver, puffy ski jacket that would make me look like an overstuffed eskimo only makes her look even leggier. It's moments like this that I decide nothing matters and reach for the pint of butter pecan again, watching for a spark of judgement.

  "How are you doing?" she asks sympathetically as I subtly edge away, looking for the first opportunity to escape.

  "Hi. Umm…good, I guess." I'm puzzled by why she's looking at me that way. I know I look like I just rolled out of bed, but I brushed my teeth and my hair. Surely, I don't look like a total vagabond.

  "Do you live around here?" If so, I need to know so that I can avoid any place she might be. The last thing I need is to have Mark's sister spying on me.