by Penny Reid
“Oh.”
His thumb stroked my hip and his eyes traveled searchingly over my face, “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” Quinn’s voice was rough.
“No. No, he just startled me.” I licked my lips, “He was probably just some stranger and, remember, I bumped into him so… no big deal.”
He nodded but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. I placed my hand on his chest and he covered it with his own, moving it to his heart. It was beating rapidly. He cleared his throat, “Do you- uh- want to go home?”
I gave him a small smile, “Home?”
He shook his head and said, “You should probably get home.”
A dark cloud of disappointment settled over my forehead. I wasn’t ready for the night to be over. I didn’t understand why my clumsy encounter meant our evening had to end.
“What are my options?” I looked at our entwined hands covering his heart then I licked my lips as my eyes moved to his mouth.
“Home.” He said the word firmly.
My gaze met his and found him regarding me with a paradoxical heated stoicism; dually pushing me away and crushing me close. Something possessed me, call it wonton woman instinct, and I pressed myself to him; I felt him stiffen. I slid my body upwards, crushing my chest against his; I felt his breath hitch. My leg moved between his and I lifted my mouth to his neck then his ear and whispered, hoping the words didn’t come out clumsily and awkward, “I’m hungry.”
Another ragged sigh escaped him, similar in tenor to the one in the park, his hand moving again to my thigh where my dress had hitched upward baring my leg. He rested it there, the palm of his hand warming my skin, for a hesitating second before he pulled the hem of my skirt down to cover my knee and shifted away from me on the seat. I felt the loss of his warmth acutely as he disentangled our limbs.
Quinn leaned forward slightly toward the driver, “We need to take Ms. Morris home.”
I watched him; at first surprised then, eventually, with the understanding of stinging rejection ringing in my ears. A scarlet so deep I felt in danger of being consumed by embarrassed incineration wound its way up my neck to my cheeks and the tip of my ears. I crossed my arms over my chest and angled my knees away from him as he settled back next to me.
We sat in silence for a brief moment and I could hear the whooshing of the blood through my heart and between my ears. My brain was overtaken by a dramacoaster of adolescent self-doubt- which I embraced as fact: I am never going to be that girl. It just isn’t in me to be sexy and seductive.
As we approached my building I pulled my bag from the picnic basket. Quinn surprised me by brushing unruly curls from my shoulder. I turned to look at him; he was holding my glasses out between us.
I glanced away and muttered, “Thank you.” and placed them safely on my nose.
His voice was soft as he responded, “You’re welcome.”
Maybe with several tens of thousands of dollars in plastic surgery I can become alluring enough that, in dim light or after several shots, I might spark the interest of a biostatistician… or an actuary.
Quinn didn’t open the door immediately when the car stopped and I could feel his eyes on me. In an effort to avoid his gaze I started searching through my bag for my keys. At length he exited and I bolted past him as soon as he was clear of the door. Launching myself up the steps I felt him close on my heels.
“Are you going to be ok?”
“Yep. Just fine.” I slipped my key into the lock on the first try and felt thankful for the little miracle.
My internal temper tantrum tirade continued: But attracting and holding the interest of someone like Quinn Sullivan will have to go into my box of make believe with the eventual remake of Final Fantasy 7 with PlayStation 3 graphics or finding an original, pristine version of Detective Comics, No. 27- Batman’s debut. All attempts are futile. It is just something I will have to accept as fantasy.
I started through the door and up the steps not waiting for the door to close and not looking back over my shoulder. To my chagrin I heard his steps echoing mine up the stairs. I climbed faster. When I reached my door I fumbled for my keys and again was met with success turning the locks. He stood to the side, a little distance away, watching me.
I glanced over my shoulder briefly to give him a cursory wave, “Well, good night. Thanks for the… the- the picnic.” Just as I was about to escape into the safety of my diminutive shared one bedroom I felt his hand settle briefly on my arm above the elbow.
“I want you and Elizabeth to think about moving into that other apartment.”
I shrugged, pushing the door open just wide enough for me to set my bag down and slip halfway in, “Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to her about it.” I started moving further into my place.
Quinn reached out with his hand and gripped the door as though he were keeping me from closing it, “I’m serious.”
“Ok.” I nodded again, my eyes meeting his briefly. My brain was already several feet away, in my apartment, safe from the lingering feelings of rejection and reading the new biography I’d borrowed from the library on Madame Curie; it was not in the present, in the hall, where I was the pathetic queen of wishful thinking.
We stood at the door for several silent seconds; I could feel his gaze moving over me. I fought the building blush of embarrassment threatening to paint the roses of my cheeks red.
Then he said, “I have to go out of town.”
I nodded, “Yes, I know. You have that trip to New York on Thursday.”
“No. I’m going to leave tonight. I won’t be able to make our scheduled trainings this week and might be hard to reach over the next few days but you should text me if you need something-”
I shrugged my shoulders, again; again, the sound of whooshing blood filled my ears. I backed further into the darkness of my apartment as the blush won and crept steadily up my neck, marching over my features and burning me with mortification like Sherman burned Atlanta.
“-in Boston then New York and I’ll be back on Sunday-”
Wait, what did he say? Was he still speaking?
“- so maybe I can get a rain check on that dinner until next week?”
I sighed distractedly, still unable to meet his eyes, “Yeah, sure. Why don’t you call me when you get back.”
I didn’t expect him to call.
He nodded and started leaning into my apartment; then stopped, paused, and released the door. He shuffled backward into the hall. Quinn stabbed his fingers through his hair in a frustrated movement. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”
I glanced at him. He looked upset. I frowned. Before I could say anything he turned and left me, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went. I waited to close the door until I couldn’t hear the sound of his steps descending the stairs.
I didn’t turn on any lights as I walked to the couch. In the darkness of my apartment my mind began to wander.
I didn’t understand anything about this guy.
One minute he is pretending he wants to date me, the next minute he’s turning down my very obvious advances, and now he’s fabricating a trip in hopes that I won’t bother him. I was so befuddled. If he wanted to give me the brush off he didn’t have to make up some fake business trip.
I heard my heinous cell phone chime somewhere in the apartment. The sound made me growl in frustration but then, suddenly, I was curious. It chimed again before I made it to the kitchen counter where the devil’s device was charging; I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Quinn; actually, there were several:
The first: I am going to put some guards on you, won’t even notice them, sorry about all this
The second: I will call you when I get to NY on Thursday
The third: A neutron walks into a bar; he asks the bartender, "How much for a beer?" The bartender looks at him, and says "For you, no charge."
I frowned at the phone and the messages. He might as well have sent me hieroglyphics. After a long while I set the phone back on the counter and crossed bac
k to the couch. I sat and stared then laid down in sudden exhaustion. My head was spinning. I didn’t understand men. They made no sense and behave erratically.
I knew I was still in my clothes and I realized I hadn’t brushed my teeth but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I felt paralyzed by confusion. I decided, as I succumbed to sleep, that men should come with manuals, subtitles, and reset buttons.
~*~
I’ve come to rely on my knitting group to be my compass in all things confusing and difficult to comprehend; this usually means relationships and interactions with other humans… er, people. My ladies have helped me navigate everything from precarious office politics to dealings with my ex’s mother. And this is why they are supportive and engaged when I explain to them my current situation with Quinn.
It was Tuesday night and we were gathered in Sandra’s roomy two bedroom apartment. Fiona was the only one missing, having to stay home at the last minute as her daughter was sick with the flu. Most of us had a drink in our hand and I’d just finished passing the evil cell phone around so they could all read the texts. I also just finished giving them a Cliff Notes version of the last week.
They were all silent. Ashley staring off into space, Marie frowning at a half knitted sweater, Sandra standing at the entrance to her kitchen leaning against the wall as though in heavy contemplation, Kat watching me with a cloudy mixture of introspection and trepidation, and Elizabeth was still scrolling through Quinn’s texts.
Ashley was the first to pipe up, her thick Tennessee accent makes even this sound charming, “I think he was upset about that guy in the park and that’s why he turned down your hot bod.”
Some of them nodded in agreement, some of them continued to stare unseeingly.
I sighed. “But, how interested could he really be? By the mighty power of Thor! I threw myself at him!”
Elizabeth frowned at me, “Did you really just say: ‘by the mighty power of Thor!’”
“I’m trying to cuss less.”
Some of them nodded in agreement, some of them continued to stare unseeingly.
I sighed. “I think I completely messed up. I think he thinks I’m pathetic and he’s just trying avoid me by making up some trip so he doesn’t have to talk to me.”
Marie shook her head, her blonde shampoo commercial hair bouncing around her face, “No. That’s not it.” She sounded so certain, “That’s definitely not it.”
Elizabeth nodded in agreement, “I agree with Marie. The boy is hot for you.”
Some of them nodded in agreement, some of them continued to stare unseeingly.
I sighed. “Then why did he turn down my advances?” I couldn’t help the frustration in my voice. I knew part of my frustration was due to his absence. I’d been spoiled by seeing him almost every day last week and now I missed him. I thought last Saturday, as he surveyed my apartment, that he didn’t belong there, in my life. But now the absence of him made me feel like I was forever trying to catch my breath.
And it had only been two days.
“Well, hell girl! He just watched you get man-handled by a creepy neck-tattooed skinhead.” Sandra said as she pushed away from the wall and joined us in the living room, “If he wasn’t interested then he wouldn’t be stuffing your cell phone inbox with messages. I think he’s worried about you.”
“Also, hon, you may not have been as transparent with your advances as you believe. I’ve seen you, you’re not a skilled flirter. It’s usually hard to watch.” Ashley grimaced, likely thinking back to one of my awkward flirting attempts.
Kat said quietly, “I don’t understand his reaction to the guy in the park. It sounds like he completely overreacted. Janie, is there anything else? Did the guy threaten you?”
I shook my head, “No. I just bumped into him. He was scary but, other than grab my arms he didn’t do anything.”
“But didn’t McHotpants say he knew the guy?” Sandra poked me with a carrot before dipping it into a vat of blue cheese dressing and biting into it with a solid crunch.
“It was vague, something like he thought he looked familiar. I don’t know.” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eye sockets then allowed the back of my head to fall against the tall chair behind me. “I mean, if you think about it, the first time I spoke to Quinn was only four weeks ago. I don’t really know him at all. Maybe the guy in the park actually freaked him out and I’m wrong. Maybe he’s just not into me and I’m right. Maybe Quinn is an alien and is finished with his study of humankind and no longer has use for me as a specimen.”
Marie shook her head, “Four weeks is long enough. People have fallen head over heels in less time than that.”
“Did he actually put guards on you?” Ashley pointed the question to me but her eyes were on Elizabeth.
“Yes. He did.” I frowned at that. The first time I saw them was Monday morning as I was leaving for work. They’d approached me outside my building, both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts and looking like regular guys, and told me that they worked for Infinite Systems. Mr. Sullivan, it seemed, put in an order for two twenty-four hour protection teams. They promised I wouldn’t notice them. They were right; over the last two days I’d forgotten about it.
“The guards are likely outside now. We should bring them some coffee or something.” Elizabeth looked up from the cell phone and handed it back to me, “The friendship one is funny- about peeing. I think I’m going to use that.”
I accepted the hateful phone from Elizabeth and stared at the last two messages. Quinn, true to his word, continued to send me jokes every day which only served to further confuse me.
Marie started knitting again, “Time will tell. I say just wait and see if he calls you on Thursday, see what he says.”
I stood and stretched, “You’re right! I’m done thinking about this. Done, done, done!” I swished my hand in a circle and snapped three times then walked to the bathroom, wanting to excuse myself in hopes that my absence would change the subject.
I wasn’t in the bathroom long, just enough time to wash my hands, when I heard a knock on the door.
“Just a minute, I’m almost done.” I called absentmindedly.
“Janie, it’s Kat. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, I’m almost done.”
“No-” Kat’s voice dropped to a whisper, I could tell she had her lips close to the crack in the door, “I mean, can I come in and join you, I- I need to tell you something.”
I opened the door then turned to search for a towel, “What’s up? Are you ok?”
Kat’s voice was heavy with hesitation behind me, “I found… something… out.” The soft click of the door closing surprised me so I turned to face her, mopping up the dampness of my hands with a really amazingly fluffy and absorbent towel. I made a mental note to ask Sandra where she purchased her towels.
When Kat didn’t continue I lifted my eyebrows, “About what?”
She looked entirely too serious, like my dad did the day he told me Santa Claus wasn’t real. I was fifteen.
“It’s about your job, at the firm.” She hesitated again, tucking her brown wavy hair behind her ears, “I found out why they let you go.”
“Oh.” I gripped the towel; it was squishy. I’d forgotten that Kat had agreed to try to find out why I was let go. At present I didn’t particularly care.
“Janie-”
She said my name in a way that is usually followed with: “Where were you the night of the murder?” or “You’re going to want to sit down for this.” I increased my grip on the towel.
“- it was Mr. Holsome.”
I blinked. Silence stretched. Kat’s eyes continued to watch me with wide rimmed caution.
“Mr. Holsome?” I repeated, confused, “You mean, Jon’s dad? My Jon’s dad? That Mr. Holsome?”
Kat nodded and leaned against the closed door. She sighed.
“I don’t-” I blinked at her again and sat down on the closed toilet seat lid, “I don’t understand. Why would Jon’s dad want m
e to lose my job?”
She looked miserable as she said, “I don’t know the why, but I can tell you I’m 100% certain he was responsible. He threatened to pull out of the South Side project if they didn’t let you go and he was insistent that it had to be that day.”
That day.
That day I found out Jon had cheated on me. That day I broke up with him before I left for work that morning.
Kat must’ve seen the wheels turning in my rickety brain because she said, “Do you think Jon asked him to do it? Do you think, when you broke up with him, that he… did that?”
I shook my head. I could only huff a response. “I don’t know, I can’t…” my words trailed off and I thought about the accusation Kat voiced and I’d been thinking.
It didn’t seem likely, but I was disturbed to realize it seemed plausible. Jon had said on more than one occasion, both when we were together and since we’d broken up, that he wanted me to rely on him, that he wanted to take care of me, that I needed him. I didn’t feel that way, I wondered why he did. Maybe it was because he felt it was true.
Maybe it was because his father had been able to end my employment with a phone call.
“What are you going to do?” Kat was twisting her hands in front of her, looking nervous and anxious on my behalf.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head then said it again, “I don’t know.”
It didn’t seem fair that Jon should be able to, on a petulant whim, decide to make a call which made me lose my job; a job, mind you, that I was quite skilled at but which I didn’t miss. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do. Part of me wondered if it even mattered. Jon couldn’t do anything to me now; I wasn’t dating him anymore; he, and his father, had no influence with my current employer. I breathed a sigh of relief at the realization. I felt secure at my new job, I felt confident and safe.
Maybe Jon had done me a favor.
CHAPTER 15
On the Thursday of my third week I experienced the first tremor of uncertainty about my new job, and by tremor of uncertainty I mean lightning strike of horror.
