Playing It Safe

by Barbie Bohrman

  I feel guilty keeping things from Sabrina, and I know she’ll be upset when she eventually finds out, but for now it’s for the best. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Ugh, I know, I know, I’m a horrible best friend, and now I think I have to cover my tracks a bit.

  “I mean, I don’t know how serious they are or anything like that. It’s only the second time I’ve seen them together. And now that I think about it, both times I’ve seen them together he didn’t seem to be too interested in her, so I have no fucking clue what he sees in her. Maybe she has a cape flying out of her crotch with a giant S on it. That, or she can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. Either of those has to be the only explanation, because everything else I’ve seen screams see you next Tuesday. And a huge one, at that.”

  Tyler is now doubled over laughing while Sabrina is shaking her head at me, covering her mouth with her hands to try to control her giggles.

  “Wow, why don’t you tell us how you really feel, Julia?” she gets out, while failing miserably at holding her laughter in.

  Oops. I really need to try and apply a filter to my thoughts more often before they reach my mouth. So much for trying to cover my tracks. I think I just elaborated a tad too much on my assumptions about Alex’s relationship with Marisa, or whatever you call that aberration.

  Honestly, aren’t you scratching your head on this one too? I sure as hell am. I’m a little embarrassed to report that I may have spent most of my night lying in bed having an actual argument with myself over it. Out loud.

  “I’m glad I could be a source of entertainment for you guys this morning,” I deadpan while they’re still laughing.

  Sabrina collects herself long enough to say, “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  She elbows Tyler behind her to get him to stop laughing, then leans in to whisper something in his ear.

  “Hey! That’s not fair! Don’t be whispering sweet nothings in his ear while I’m sitting right here.”

  When she turns her body to face the camera again, Tyler brings his lips to her neck and starts to nuzzle her until she giggles again.

  “I so hate you guys right now,” I say sarcastically. “Get a room, for chrissakes!”

  Sabrina slaps him away and then clears her throat dramatically. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh my God! Are you PG, Sabrina?”

  “PG?” she asks, all confused.

  “Yes, PG. You know, like Mary with Jesus but you know who the father is,” I say, pointing at Tyler on the monitor, who is practically choking.

  “Are you insane? No, I’m not pregnant! And if I was, I don’t think I’d be telling you that news after you just called someone a cun …” She trails off, not being able to bring herself to complete the actual word. She’s always had an issue with cursing, so I’m surprised she was able to get as far as the letter n. Me, on the other hand … well let’s just say that if I had one of those curse jars where I put a dollar in for every bad word that came out of my mouth, Robin Leach would be doing a segment on me on the next episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

  “Oh shit! Are you guys getting married?”

  Both of them answer at the same time, she with a “no” and he with a “not yet.”

  I tilt my head, thinking that little exchange right there was rather interesting, but I decide not to jump all over it like I normally would. I’ll just ask her about it another time when Tyler’s not around.

  “Okay, so if you’re not knocked up and not getting married, then what is it?”

  She flashes me a smile and says, “I kind of got a promotion at work.”

  “Congrats! That’s great news.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “Wait, what do you mean ‘kind of’?”

  “Well, it’s not official yet because my boss wants to see how I manage the next two exhibits at the museum on my own.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

  “You really think so?” she asks.

  “Girlie, I’m positive. You have nothing to worry about. Right, Tyler?”

  He agrees and gives her a tight squeeze before shooting me a wink, which even though he’s my bestie’s man makes me want to swoon on the spot.

  “Your boyfriend is winking at me again, Sabrina,” I tease. “Please have him try to control himself around me.”

  He laughs as she gives him a light slap on his arm.

  “All right, you two,” I say, noticing the time. “I’ve gotta motor since I have to stop by my parents’ house in a bit.”

  I bring my hand to my lips to blow her a kiss, and she repeats the gesture before we start in on saying how much we miss and love each other, as only true BFFs can. This tacks on a whole other five minutes to the Skype session before finally Tyler gets exasperated and just starts shutting it down on us. Good thing too, because if not, we could have easily spent the rest of the day on there talking about everything under the sun and then some.

  As soon as I switch off my laptop, I move my ass into gear and start getting ready for the visit, which should be all kinds of interesting. My mom and dad love each other, no doubt about that, having been devoted to each other for the better part of almost thirty years now. But having been together for so long, they tend to get on each other’s nerves a bit. I’m fairly certain it has something to do with the fact that ever since my dad retired a few years ago, he’s home a lot more than he used to be, and my mom’s not digging him cramping her style.

  I hope to God that my little brother, Darren, will be there since my other brother, Lucas, is living out in Las Vegas. I should probably call Darren and find out what his deal is and see if I can bribe him into hanging out with me while I’m there. He’s usually pretty easy to get a hold of. As for Lucas, you can never get him to pick up the phone, much less return a freaking phone call. I’m lucky if he even remembers to call me on my birthday.

  Picking up my cell phone off the coffee table, I unlock the screen and thumb scroll through my contact list until I find Darren’s name. While I’m scrolling, I notice that I have a ridiculous amount of people on here that I haven’t spoken to in years. Like this entry right above Darren’s for a person (I have to say person, because I have no clue if they’re male or female) named Dale. Who the hell is Dale? And how did they get starred and categorized as a “favorite” under my contacts? I’m still pondering this Dale person when I press Darren’s name on the screen just below it.

  He picks up on the second ring. “Talk to me, Goose.”

  “What’s up, Maverick?”

  It would be important to note that my brother Darren stumbled upon Top Gun when he was a kid and became obsessed with it. Hence the nicknames for each other of Maverick and Goose. In fact, he was so obsessed with that movie that he eventually turned it into a career by joining the Air Force right after high school.

  “Nothing much, heading over to Mom and Pop’s,” he says.

  “Yes! I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Why?” he asks. “Are you heading over there too?”

  “Yup. You’ll probably beat me there, but I’ll be there sooner rather than later.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon then. Later, Goose.”

  “Later, Maverick.”

  I disconnect the call, but my phone rings in my hand a second later, so I answer it thinking it’s Darren again.

  “Did you forget something, Maverick?” I ask while roaming toward my bedroom to get dressed.

  “It’s your mother, not Darren,” she says in a rush. “Julia, are you still planning on coming over today?”

  “Yes. I actually just got off the phone with Darren, and he said he was stopping over as well.”

  “Oh, thank God!” she says. “Your father is driving me crazy.”

  I mosey over to my closet and ask, “Is everything okay?”

  “Sweetheart,” she says, her voice going deathly quiet, “I love your father dearly, but if he brings out his toolbox one more time to fix something, I may stab hi
m in the eye with one of his screwdrivers.”

  My eyes are trying to zero in on the outfit I’m going to wear when I hear my dad’s booming voice in the background. “Marilyn! Where the hell is my goddamn Phillips screwdriver? I left it on the kitchen island not two fucking minutes ago!”

  “Mom, did you take Daddy’s screwdriver?”

  She doesn’t answer, but I can hear her breathing on the line still. “Mom?”

  “I’m here, sweetheart, and yes I hid his screwdriver … and you’d better hurry,” she says cryptically before hanging up.

  Jesus Christ, those two are going to end up killing each other if my dad doesn’t get a new hobby, and soon. Flying through what normally takes me about a half hour to accomplish by throwing on a pair of black yoga pants and an old, black racer-back tank top, I’m ready to roll. I slip on my flip-flops and gather all my hair in a ponytail while heading out the door to face whatever calamity awaits me at my parents’ house.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I pull into the driveway of their house an hour later. Having had to deal with toll traffic on the Rickenbacker Causeway due to the perfect beach day weather, it’s taken me a little longer than usual. My brother Darren’s Bumblebee Chevy Camaro is already here, and I park right behind him just in case I have to make a quick getaway. Ugh, I hate that car. It’s so … yellow. Reminds me of a school bus rather than a car that can transform into an intelligent life-form. If it was so goddamn intelligent, it should have picked a more appealing color to be seen in.

  Walking toward the front door, I’m already on high alert when I hear my dad yell out a string of curses that aren’t suitable to repeat, even for me. And in case you’re wondering where I got my colorful language from, look no further. My dad has never been one to tone it down for absolutely anyone’s benefit for as long as I can remember.

  One time, when I was eight, my parents were called to my school to meet with my teacher because I had gotten myself into a wee bit of trouble. Okay, so I called another girl a bitch because, well, she was a bitch. She moved my chair out from under me right before I sat down. The worst part was that I was wearing a skirt that day, and as I rolled over to get to my feet that sucker flew right up and left my panty-clad ass hanging in the breeze for the rest of the class to see. Anyway, when my teacher, Mrs. Black, told my parents the story about how I used foul language, I’ll never forget what happened next. My dad stood up, looked at me sternly, and asked if what the teacher had said was true. I nodded and kept my mouth shut since I was paralyzed with fear over what my punishment would be. He looked over to Mrs. Black and said, “That little girl is a bitch for pulling my daughter’s chair out.” He turned to my mother then. “Marilyn, let’s go.” Mrs. Black was appalled while my poor mother was hemming and hawing, watching my dad take me by the hand and drag me out of there. On the drive home, my dad said that next time I should try to say it more quietly, then proceeded to take me to Swenson’s for an ice cream sundae. It was the best day ever.

  As quietly as possible, I open the front door and peek my head around the frame so I can assess the damage before throwing myself into the fray. My mom, God bless her, is sitting on one corner of the long chaise sofa, arms crossed and chewing away at her bottom lip. My dad is sitting on the opposite end, in the same manner, and sporting a look that could kill directed at my brother. Darren’s back is to me, and he’s pointing the now infamous screwdriver at my mother, and then he snaps his attention back to my dad, saying something about both of them being in a time-out so they can think about what they did.

  Good Lord, if this isn’t the craziest shit I’ve ever witnessed. My parents in a time-out? I never thought I’d live to see the day.

  “Julia Ann Boyd,” my dad yells when he finally spots me. “Close the door and get your ass in here before you let any more mosquitoes in the house.”

  “Carter, take it easy,” my mom pleads. “You know you need to watch that blood pressure of yours.”

  “Woman, if you hadn’t taken away my screwdriver, I wouldn’t be pissed off to begin with.”

  “I did it for your own good, dear,” she counters.

  “What do you mean my own good?”

  “Well, I mean that you … well, you know you never were that good at fixing stuff,” my poor mother says, now stammering. My dad’s face starts to turn a hue of red that rivals that of a tomato before he launches into an obscenity-laced rant about how a man’s tools are not to be trifled with.

  “Enough!” Darren yells. “For the love of God, would you both just shut up for a minute, or ten, and try to be civil? Julia and I are going to be right in the other room. Don’t even think about starting this argument up again while we’re gone.”

  It’s then I finally get a good look at Darren as he turns around and envelops me in a big bear hug and then plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. Even though he’s my baby brother by five years, he’s huge in comparison, towering over me easily, and I’m no slouch in the height department at five feet six inches. He’s built like a brick shithouse, and I’m sure the ladies all go gaga for him with his dark blond hair and sky-blue eyes, but to me he’s still the little guy whose diapers I’ve helped change.

  “Come on, I need a beer after dealing with Laurel and Hardy over here,” he says, shooting a thumb over his shoulder at my parents, who are staring at their respective sides of the living room wall, ignoring each other completely.

  We walk into the kitchen, and he immediately goes for the refrigerator, opening the door and pulling out two Coronas while I hop onto one of the stools. He hands me mine before leaning against the kitchen counter and taking a long pull from his.

  “So what’s going on, sis? Anything new?”

  “Nothing new to report. How about you?”

  He shakes his head while taking another sip of his beer before asking, “How’s the dating scene?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it, Darren. Change the subject, please.”

  With a hearty chuckle, he steps forward and puts his elbows on the kitchen island. “Uh-uh. Tell your favorite brother all about it.”

  “Fine, but there’s nothing really to tell,” I get out in a whoosh of breath before bringing the bottle to my lips again. “I have the worst luck ever with men, and I’ve resigned myself to living as a spinster with tons of cats and a house that smells like cat piss.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” he says while laughing. “There have to be some prospects.”

  How sad is it that my only prospect is an occasional flirting session with a man who once tried to get into my best friend’s pants? It’s pretty fucking sad.

  “No prospects,” I confirm as I shift from side to side rather uncomfortably in my seat.

  “I don’t believe you. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “What’s with the third degree?” I blurt out, trying to turn the tables on him. “What about you?”

  The corners of his mouth turn up, and he raises an eyebrow. “Keeping my options open. By the way, nice try trying to change the subject.”

  “Whatever,” I mumble.

  A staring contest ensues like we used to have when we were kids. I usually win these, but I’m not feeling as confident with all the thoughts swirling in my head over Alex and just how pathetic my dating life has been in the past year. It’s enough to drive a girl straight to lesbianism. Were it not for the lack of real cock on that front—not the fake ones, because sorry, they’re not at all the same—the idea of it is becoming more and more appealing. I did experiment once in college but quickly realized that it wasn’t for me.

  Oh, please. Like you didn’t make out with your sorority sister while she felt you up to make a guy all hot and bothered. I’m probably in the minority on that one. Then again, I was feeling no pain after playing a few rounds of beer pong and thought it was the actual guy and not my sorority sister. So I don’t think that really qualifies as experimenting. I suck even with the ladies.

  “I win,” Darren anno
unces when I dart my eyes away from him for a second.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  “You’re losing your touch, sis. Are you sure nothing else is going on?”

  I hate that he knows me so well and can hear my thoughts as if they were plainly written all over my face. And I’ve been trying my hardest not to think about it. About him. No, not Alex—it’s much worse than that.

  Aiden.

  “Julia?” Darren says, concerned. “What’s the matter? You know you’re eventually going to tell me, so stop dragging it out and just do it already.”

  I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding and focus on the bottle opener on the table between us. “I saw Aiden the other day.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispers.

  “Yup, that pretty much sums it up.”

  “How did it go?” he asks.

  I sigh. “Not well.”

  “What the hell did he say to you?”

  “Not much.”

  “Julia, cut the shit and tell me what the fuck happened.”

  I put the beer bottle down and lean forward until my elbows are resting on the countertop. “Darren, he’s getting married.”

  “Who would be stupid enough to marry that asshole?”

  “Oh, the story gets better.” I pause and look up at my brother, who is staring back at me in shock. “I helped plan his engagement party. As a matter of fact, that’s where I ran into him.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Julia,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Exactly.”

  “So let me get this straight,” he says. “You knew he was getting married and helped plan his engagement party anyway?”

  “Do you honestly think that if I knew it was the Aiden, I would have gone along with it? Come on, Darren, give me at least a little bit of credit here. I’m not that much of a glutton for punishment.”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not sure.”

  My eyes widen in disbelief that he would think that, and I open my mouth to defend myself.