I already miss Owen, even though he was never even mine to lose.
There's enough going on with the kids squealing and the adults recounting stories for Lex's silence to go largely unnoticed.
As I eat dessert, I fall into conversation with Giles, Julia's husband. Whenever he and I talk, it's usually small talk about UCSD. We both graduated from the university at different times and he still works there.
Giles is easy to talk to. He has an easy charm about him. But, being Julia's friend, there are things I know that could possibly make speaking to the guy a bit awkward. The type of graphic images you can't easily pry from your head.
It never occurred to me before to ask Giles what type of work he does for the university, having always assumed he was a professor. Turns out, Giles is the head of the Chancellor's Office.
A forkful of pumpkin pie freezes halfway to my mouth as I try to compose the surge of energy that comes over me. The university's chancellor oversees a cluster of departments, which includes the legal department.
Shifting my line of questioning from the casual to the more specific, I prod into what type of legal work is available at the university. Giles tells me their research department has grown exponentially after receiving generous grants in the last few years. They have their hands full managing patents and making sure the research is protected. This piques my interest since intellectual property is, of course, my specialty.
Is this a sign? Of course it is. How can it not be?
I've been looking for jobs in San Francisco, dead set on heading back there. Then Bernstein blacklisted me. There's no telling how far his influence spreads in the Bay Area. There's no telling how many firms have already heard all about me. Moving out of Bernstein's reach may just mean moving out of the Bay Area all together.
The thought meets resistance even inside of my own mind. But the reality of my situation brings itself up to full height. I'm in no position to dismiss a job opportunity. I'm in no position to reject the notion of moving back here simply because…what? I left once before with no intention of ever returning?
What if I'm staring right at my shot at a second clean slate, another fresh start? The problem is, Bernstein isn't backing off. Even if I apply for jobs here in San Diego, employment verifications will still go through his office.
Is a fresh start possible when the noise from my old job, my old life, keeps creeping in?
Giles pauses mid-sentence to discipline one of his kids. "Blair, stop it. Stop it right now or I'm canceling Christmas for the rest of your life."
I try not to laugh as Blair looks horrified at his threat and promptly stops trying to pick at the tree decorations.
"That seriously works?" I ask Giles.
"It's basic kid-logic. The bigger, more ridiculous the threat, the more convincing it is."
My mouth opens to accept the forkful of pie I bring to it, lost in a sudden revelation. Giles' words tune my imagination into an elaborate fantasy on how I can free myself of Bernstein's ploy to keep me unemployed.
After dinner, Julia and I sneak off to the kitchen under the pretense of putting the food away into containers, a task no one else wants to be a part of. In fact, Giles takes the older kids and his mother-in-law out to see the Christmas lights.
Lex, Julia, and I stay behind. However, Lex sits in the living room, staring at the glow of her cellphone. Who knows what she's doing. Working, maybe? On Christmas day? I wouldn't put it past her.
Julia and I lean against the countertop island and sip on pumpkin flavored coffee. "Did you tell Lex? That you've been blacklisted?"
"Julia, look at her." I gesture toward the living room at the mindless, phone-scrolling drone that is my older sister.
Julia turns in the same direction as me. Both of our elbows are propped up on the counter, our hands cupping our mugs.
"I see your point," she says.
We sip our drinks in silence for a few seconds. Lex, who under normal circumstances would feel two sets of eyes fixed on her, seems unaware.
"That must've been some good dick," I say. "When's the last time you had dick so good you went into a catatonic state when you couldn't have it anymore?"
Julia holds up a hand as we gather ourselves again from our silent laughter. "Don't say the word dick to me. It causes me physical pain to even think of one."
I cringe at her statement and decide I don't want to go down the path of a postpartum sex life conversation.
"The word dick got me fired. Speaking of dicks…."
I pull up Leo's emails and hand my phone to Julia. Her eyes dart across the screen as she speed-reads the emails. She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle her snort of laughter.
"Yeah," I say. "I might have enjoyed it a little."
She scrolls down to the last email and her expression softens. "Man, he's really trying to hit a soft spot…Aw, this makes me feel sorry for him." She strokes her chest with her palm, eyes still glued to the screen.
I snatch the phone from her. "You can't be serious."
She looks at me, slightly pouty faced. "I don't know. That read heartfelt. You know, he stayed all night at the hospital with Lex, the night I gave birth. My sisters told me. Don't look at me like that…I'm only saying, it seems like he really does care about her."
"Did you even meet him? He's your typical God's gift to women type."
She shrugs. "Whether you like him or not is a different point. The question you should be asking is, can he make Lex happy?"
"I don't know. All I know is that not being with him makes her really, really unhappy. But Lex is too damn proud to give him another chance after he dumped her."
"Well, that's something."
"Is it? What if this has nothing to do with him?"
"That's not for you to decide. It's for Lex to decide. Look, it's obvious the guy's reaching out to you because he can't get through to Lex. Think about that. He knows you hate his guts, yet he is still trying. That says something to me."
I'm at a loss for words. I've been approaching the whole Leo situation from a completely selfish standpoint. I may not like the guy, but he obviously means something to my sister. He obviously regrets his decision. Enough to reach out to the very last person that's likely to ally with him. Me.
I pull on the ends of my hair for a moment. "You're right."
"Of course, I am. I'm always right. I'm still trying to convince Giles of this. He's waiting for the anomaly, but it hasn't happened yet. Actually, wait. I was wrong about Lex and Jacob hitting it off. That didn't pan out. I feel bad for Jacob. He really likes her."
"Don't feel bad for him. He'll do fine. The guy's got a lot going for him." I make a general gesture to indicate my facial region.
She gives me a searching look. "You know, sometimes I wish I would've set Jacob up with you instead of Lex."
"Nope. He's not my type. I'm not into his whole…" I pause, trying to gather the words. "Enthusiastic, walking on sunshine, smiley sort of vibe."
"You like them broody, don't you?"
My thoughts swing to Owen before I can help myself. His face comes to my mind, the memory of his gravelly voice at my ear tugs at my stomach.
"Yeah. I guess I do. Come on, let's go join the zombie."
The baby monitor is a crackling hum in the background as Julia and Lex catch up in a way Lex isn't able to when everyone else is around. Though my sister hasn't been talkative tonight, her mood quickly improves under constant teasing from Julia and me. Finally, we nudge Lex to the point where she is dishing back the jokes.
The baby starts crying and Lex insists she wants to go soothe him. Julia shuts off the baby monitor as Lex disappears up the stairs. I set my glass of rum down and catch Julia eyeing me in silent amusement.
"What is it?" I ask her.
"Oh, nothing." She almost smiles but holds back, which makes her look more suspicious.
"Just say it."
"You act different around Lex."
"I do?" My pitch goes up the way it d
oes when I'm being insincere. So I nod. Because I know that she's right. It's something I'm conscious of even if I don't do it intentionally. "I do. She brings the obnoxious teenager out of me."
"I think you bring it out for her."
"Yeah, it's funny. You know, if you say cock around her, she turns beet red and looks around to see if anyone heard you say it. It's hilarious. You should try it."
"I'm sure it has more to do with the fact that you're her little sister and you probably shouldn't have that word in your mouth."
"I'm no one's little anything. And I'll put whatever the hell I want in my mouth."
"Lex acts different around you, too. She acts all…maternal."
I take a sip of my drink. "Yeah, I guess I can see that."
"It happens. It's like that with my sisters, too. I think being around family makes you revert."
"What about you? What do you revert to?"
"Me?" She grins and I know she's about to lie through her teeth. "I don't revert. I just remain…wonderful me."
"How convenient," I squint at her, "I wonder what your sisters would say?"
We have a stare down that lasts a few seconds before she yields. "Okay, fine. They might say I'm a bit extreme in my views. I'd soak a rag with my opinions and chloroform people with it, given the chance."
"Wow…and here I thought we were discussing alter egos," I say. "What you described sounds exactly like you everyday. "
"Shut up."
"So, I got my brains fucked out of me the other night. Want to hear about it?"
Julia gives me a look as though I'm being ridiculous. "Of course, I want to hear about it!"
I laugh and give her a quick rundown on Owen. How we went to school together, how I never noticed him until he grew into a serious, panty-dropping stud. How I haven't been able to stop thinking about him or our night together. How the piece of paper with his number scribbled on it must've fallen out of my purse because I haven't been able to find it. And how none of it matters since we basically said our goodbyes that night, with no real promise of seeing each other again.
"But you're staying right?" Julia asks. "Weren't you talking with Giles about that job?"
"Yeah," I say, hesitant. "I need some time to process it all. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's really exciting to have a real job prospect. But it's also an adjustment. A few hours ago I was gearing to head back to San Francisco this weekend. A snap of a finger later, I have a real option to stay here for good. It's not even something I thought I wanted. And yet, now I do. It's strange. I can't wrap my head around it, tonight."
"Do you think this Owen guy has anything to do with you wanting to stay?"
"No. The thought of repeating the other night is exciting, but sex isn't something I'd build my future around. To be perfectly honest—and please don't say this to Giles—I don't have a lot of other options on the job front. Staying here makes sense. It's the responsible thing to do. Anyway, even if I do stay here it doesn't mean anything will come out of the whole Owen thing. We might end up being a one-night stand."
"Sure, just promise me you won't run away from the possibility of a relationship because stability scares the hell out of you."
"Oh, does it?" I give her an exaggerated, doe-eyed, attentive look, cupping my chin in my hand. "Please, go on. Tell me all about myself. Make sure to soak a rag with it first, though."
She glares at my teasing. "I think you know I'm right."
"I think you think you're right."
"Stubborn ass."
"Know-it-all."
Lex appears again and says, "Awesome, so we've progressed to name-calling?"
Julia shoots Lex a look as well. My sister brings her hands up in surrender as though realizing she walked into an armed stand off.
I tilt my head back to look at Lex. "Julia was enlightening me on the theory of the universe and everything in it."
"Again?" Lex asks.
Julia narrows her eyes at us, albeit playfully, then points from me to Lex. "Screw you guys. You two are a lost cause. I'm sending you both a bill for all of my therapy services."
"I'd be scared to see that bill," my sister jokes, sitting down beside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Saturday after Christmas, I drive up to San Francisco to meet the movers I've paid to pack up my belongings and bring them to a storage unit in San Diego. I figure it's the best use of my time and money. The drive is too long and I don't want to inconvenience anyone I know with my last minute move.
Elle isn't home and by the air of neglect clinging to the bare walls of the apartment, I don't expect to see her. The living room looks strangely large with just the two-seater sofa and side table. The bigger couch is gone, as is the coffee table and television. She must have started moving out already and left behind only what I brought in. That makes things easier.
It only takes a few minutes to give the movers a walk through of the apartment and tell them what I need them to take. Afterward, I escape up to the roof to get some fresh air. There's a patio there, shared by the building's tenants, with a grill, some patio chairs, a bench, and string lights hanging from tall potted plants. No one is out here today, but it's early morning.
I press my phone to my ear and listen to the ringing. My eyes take in the view in front of me, tracing the rows of sloping rooftops that yield in the distance to a sliver of sparkle that is the waterfront.
"Emily?" Her voice is hesitancy, thinly veiled by surprise.
"Mona, hey. Do you have a minute?"
"Yes, of course. What's going on?"
"I have a huge favor to ask." Silence crackles over the phone as I take a breath and continue.
The sky overhead is a brilliant cobalt blue, without a single smudge of white to dilute it. Electrical purring noises swirl around me as I push the golf cart pedal to the furthest position. My hair whips in the brisk morning air and my heart pounds in my chest. There is something about anticipating trouble that I find exhilarating, fills me with energy. The kind of energy that makes me feel unstoppable.
Weaving along the dirt road path, I drive further into the course until the view of the Golden Gate Bridge, a glimmering mirage of rusty orange in the distance, is completely obscured by trees and shrubs. Lincoln Park seems to swallow up the city, dissolving it to sloping bright green fields and insulating itself from the noises of traffic and the bay until I'm sure that I'm in a different world, altogether.
It only takes me a few minutes to spot him, standing a few yards from hole four, kneeling by his ball in contemplation. Three other men, each dressed in wind jackets and khaki pants, all stand a few yards away conversing.
Bernstein's silvery white hair is as recognizable from behind as is the massive, pear-shaped bald spot on the back of his head.
The dirt road I'm on winds away from them, so I take a sharp turn and cut through the field instead. Neither Bernstein nor his companions notice the single golf cart headed straight for them. Not until I'm ten feet away and one of the men turns toward at me as he speaks. His perplexed expression melts to a look of concern when I whip closely past.
Bernstein is focused on his swing. The loud snap of the metal hitting plastic cuts through the air. And he peers up in time to see me steer the golf cart onto the putting green, taking a sharp turn to rest the cart directly in front of the hole. Bernstein's ball hits the front wheel of the golf cart and bounces back a few feet.
I give my ex-boss a small wave from where I sit and, recognizing me, his expression swings from bewildered confusion to livid fury.
Throwing his golf club aside, Bernstein charges toward me in such a frenzy, a spark of fear shoots through me that he might just kill me. Then I remember the old man can't even say the word dick out loud without blushing.
Ignoring the erratic pounding in my chest and my slippery palms, I step off the golf cart and take a sharp breath, reminding myself I have nothing to be afraid of.
This man isn't a god. He just thinks he is.
When he re
aches me, Bernstein seems unable to speak for a handful of seconds, breathing heavily like a worn, agitated old engine. His companions come forward also, but hang back slightly as though realizing it's a personal confrontation.
"What the hell is this?" Bernstein demands, temper boiling so tangibly I expect to see his hair quivering over his head, or steam to waft from his pores.
Fixing a pleasant smile on my face, I speak loudly enough for his companions to hear. "We need to have a little chat."
"No. You need to leave."
"What's the matter? Afraid your friends will hear about your illegal side activities?"
Bernstein stiffens, and I know it's not because he's ashamed of blacklisting me, but because of the more salacious implications of my words. The men behind Bernstein shift noticeably in their footing, exchanging meaningful sideways glances. I know exactly what they are thinking because it's exactly what I want them to think.
I'm wearing a low-cut, tight dress under my leather jacket. My hair is loose and wild and my eyeliner purposefully heavy handed.
My ex-boss's reaction gives me the confidence to go through with my plan, having confirmation of what I suspected. Bernstein, for as much of a hard-ass as he pretends to be, is extremely prudish. I can't imagine what must be going through his mind at the realization his companions must be confusing me with a call girl.
Bernstein walks off, closer to the other side of the golf cart with the silent connotation I'm meant to follow him. It's not really in my best interest to make our meeting more private, so I hang back far enough to keep us visible to the bystanders.
Seeming to realize my intention, Bernstein jabs a finger at the golf cart. "You need to get in that thing and get the hell off the field before—"
"No. First, you need to stop slandering my name to potential employers."
He straightens. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're referring to."
"Drop the act, Donald." I pause at the way he narrows his eyes at my use of his first name—something I'd never dare do before. "My contacts at Harper & Lyon provided me with direct quotes."
Entice (Hearts of Stone #2) Page 12
