by Kelly Wood
I looked over Seth’s shoulder at the computer screen, searching for the correct charge. I almost missed what he said.
“Offsite?” I asked.
“Small dinners and such. If you wanted to have a dinner party, you could book a bartender and server through us instead of going through a catering company. It’s been a big success.”
I put my hand on Seth’s shoulder, prompting him to stop his search. “Why are there two batch outs for every date? That’s new.” I pointed to the screen to show what I meant. Normally, all credit cards were closed out, one time, after the restaurant was closed. Every once in a while, there may be two, usually for a last-minute purchase after closing. Seth started scrolling through, looking for the right date, again.
“The offsite parties are billed at the end of each day in a separate batch. Anya said it made the accounting easier.”
Nothing about it made the accounting easier. Numbers were numbers. That was what I liked about them. They were black and white. Either they added up, or they didn’t. I didn’t agree or disagree with his comment.
“Who does get to work for these parties?”
“Mostly, the chicks. Sometimes, a server, but mostly the bartenders. It’s by whomever the client requests.”
“Only you would still use ‘whom’ correctly.” I nudged his shoulder.
“I found it! The guy bought dinner with his card and then bought some T-shirts on the way out. He must have forgotten.” Seth looked like he had won the grand prize on The Bozo Show.
“Regan?” Seth asked.
“Huh, what? Good job.” I patted his shoulder in reward. Good boy. “Now, call the customer back and explain the charges, please.” My mind had started wandering again over the information. Keeping the two charges separate didn’t make tracking the numbers easier for accounting purposes, but it did make snooping easier.
I settled back down into the chair and started scrolling through the charges. I went back through the dates until only one batch appeared for each day. I made a note in my trusty notebook. Yes, I still carried a notebook along with my iPhone. There was something satisfying about actually writing something down. Plus, I felt I remembered a fact better after having written it.
I pulled up the file where all of the PNL’s were saved. I gave myself a mental pat on the back that I had organized all of this info before I left. I was happy to see that Anya kept my system going through the years. It made today that much easier for me. I printed out the statements for the last eighteen months. That took me back one month before the extra charges started. I was stuffing it all in my bag when Peter came into the office. He glanced at my papers but didn’t say anything. He was used to me printing things. He knew I preferred a paper and pen over computer screens. I realized the irony since I wrote all of my articles on a screen.
“What’s up?” I asked as I pulled the purse strap over my shoulder.
“You have a visitor who wants to take you out.” My heart thunked against my chest as I thought about Gray. He was a slow mover, I never expected him to reach out that soon. I pushed past Peter in my haste. He blocked the door with his arm.
“It’s Ben.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What are you doing here?” I stood in front of Ben, my hands on my hips. I did not want to do this. Why did he even come here?
“I’m here to invite you to dinner.” His hands were resting in his pockets. He looked relaxed and casual. It made me want to poke him.
“No.” I crossed my arms in front of me.
“No?”
“No, thanks?” Even I could hear the questioning sound in my voice. There was no reason to have dinner with him. I didn’t know why I was even contemplating it.
That’s not true.
Loneliness. Masochistic tendencies. Both were accurate. Part of me was still wrapped up in Ben. Like he was my drug of choice. I didn’t love him anymore, but I still wanted to be around him for some reason, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. I admitted to myself that I was using Ben. I was upset and missing Gray, and Ben was my band-aid.
I debated the offer for dinner. Dinners were innocent, right? I’d just have to make it very clear to him that he would never win my heart back. Gray held it in the palm of his hands and probably would for the rest of my life.
“I thought we’d grab some pizza. Nothing special. Nothing fancy. Just pizza.” He was aiming below the belt. I had a weakness for pizza. Especially, good pizza. When I didn’t say no right away, he knew I was a goner. It’s just pizza, I told myself.
“Fine. But, I’m only going for the food.”
We ended up at Lou Malnati’s up on State Street. It was a short walk from the pub. I regretted my decision to go here already, but the pizza had been ordered. Instead of wine, Ben was drinking a beer; I ordered my standard water.
“How is it working with Peter again?” Ben asked.
“The same. Pay some bills, enter some invoices, check emails. Nothing too complicated.” I played with the condensation on my water glass, drawing patterns in it.
“I was just curious. Anya seemed to enjoy it, but she worked longer hours than you ever did.”
“I think she had more responsibilities. I'm just keeping up some basic accounting stuff.” Anya? “Did you know her? I didn’t know that.”
“We met a few times. Nothing special.”
“Nothing special? Like a date?” Ben leaned forward across the small table, putting our faces only a few inches apart.
“Jealous?” Ben whispered the word.
“You wish,” I whispered back to him before I leaned back in my chair. I didn’t know why I said yes to coming, but maybe I could salvage the night and learn a few things. “How did you meet her?”
“Why are you so interested in it? If it’s not jealousy, there must be another motive.” Ben sat back in his chair, too. His back was to the wall, giving him a view of the room and door. I felt completely exposed to the room behind me.
“Why wouldn’t I be interested? The woman who replaced me, who I then replaced at work gets murdered, stabbed in my old office. Or my new office, depending on how you want to look at it. Of course, I am interested.”
“We were friends. Casually. My office isn’t far from O’Kelly’s. If she was closing and I was working late, we’d meet up and walk home together.” Ben picked up his glass and tilted it in my direction. “Like I said. Nothing special.”
My watch tapped my wrist, letting me know I had an incoming call. Peyton. I held up my cell and asked Ben if he minded if I took it since she was pregnant. He nodded a yes.
“What up?” Please tell me you are in labor and I need to rush home. Please.
"I called because I do some of the taxes for the pub employees. Going through their stuff, their numbers are off, too. If you send me a copy of the PNL, I may be able to help find the error." Peyton and I had boundary issues. Whether it was work or family, we if we wanted to know something, anything, we just asked.
"A copy of the PNL? I'll run it by Peter tomorrow.” I glanced at Ben. He was looking down, checking his phone. “You couldn't have texted me?”
"No, pregnancy makes me stupid, so I had to call while I remembered. The girls I did the taxes for last year were making some killer bucks. I mean, way more than you used to. All of them said they worked side jobs, too. I didn’t think much of it at the time," Peyton said.
“The girls? You mean from O’Kelly’s. What kind of ‘killer bucks?’” I turned in my chair and spoke softly into the phone. Not that it mattered, Ben wasn’t paying a lick of attention. Even if he was listening, what would he care about a random conversation with my sister?
Peyton started doing taxes for family members years ago, and it quickly branched out to friends. I started referring some of my artist friends to her who needed help getting organized financially, and they referred others. Somehow, it came back to include some servers and bartenders who worked with me at the pub. Restaurants are like that, we kept everything in the f
amily. It could be like a weird mafia-type family with the right mix of people.
“Yes, from the pub. I’ve been doing most of the employees’ taxes from there. It just kind of spread. I actually have most of their financials since it is tax season now.”
“But can you share that with me? Isn’t there a doctor-client thing, but with accountants?”
“Yes. It doesn’t enter in here. You are listed on my contract as an assistant who may see private information because you have helped me in the past. I never changed my contract after you started traveling because I had forgotten you were on it. Now, I’m glad.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll send it over tomorrow. Keep me posted.”
“Hey! Wait!” I heard Peyton yell through the phone before I could disconnect the call.
“What?” I asked, exasperated.
“What are you going to say to Gray?” My eyes flicked to Ben.
“I don’t know! But, now is not the time.” I ended the call and turned back to Ben. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. It sounded important.”
“No, nothing big at all.” I waved my hand in front of me, emphasizing the unimportance of the idea. “Now what were we talking about?”
“How about your hot date?” I was looking at Ben when the words were said. His lips never moved. Plus, I would know that voice anywhere. Ben’s voice was cultured, smooth. That one was rough, gravelly. I stopped breathing but didn’t turn toward the person. I wished myself to be invisible, but I knew I needed to turn and face him.
Gray.
“This is not what it looks like,” I said. Guilt oozed over me.
“That’s what everyone says.” Gray pulled a chair over from an empty table.
“No, really.” I have such a way with words. Ben hadn’t said anything yet.
“I hope you ordered enough for all of us. I’ve missed pizza. Haven’t you?” Gray asked me.
“Yes. Gray this is Ben. Ben, Gray.” I moved my hand between them.
“Oh, we know each other, Regan,” Gray said.
“How? Why?”
“Didn’t Ben tell you? I thought he’d jump at the chance.” The animosity between them was palpable.
“I didn’t feel it warranted repeating.” Ben’s haughty attitude always emerged when he was nervous. He and Gray locked eyes. The difference between them was striking. Both were tall, but Ben was thinner. Leaner. More the body type of a runner. Gray was slightly taller, but broader, too. He was more physically opposing. Ben’s coloring was light, where Gray’s was dark. Ben sat straight in his chair, legs crossed. Gray was sitting in his backward, arms resting on the back of the chair. Gray might’ve looked relaxed, but tightly bound energy was pouring off him. He reminded me of a tiger preparing to pounce on his unsuspecting prey. I didn’t know whether to worry about myself or Ben.
“Tell me what?” I asked. Gray and Ben shared a look before Gray spoke.
“He came looking for you. We were in Italy at the time.”
“Italy? We were there years ago.” I looked at Ben. His eyes were watching me, probably for my reaction.
“I don’t . . . someone just tell me what is going on?!” In frustration, I slammed my hand on the table. The silverware tinkled as it jumped.
“I came looking for you. I wanted to apologize for what happened. And, maybe—”
“Maybe win you back,” Gray finished for Ben.
“How do you know this?” I asked Gray. He seemed awfully informed for someone who—I thought—had just met Ben.
“My uncle. He told me he was heading our way, so I kept an eye out.” The waitress plunked our pizza down along with a stack of napkins and small plates. Gray scooped up the first piece and slid it on a plate for me. The second slice he kept to himself. He picked it up and took a bite, ignoring Ben.
“I’m going to act like any of that even makes sense.” I picked up the pizza and started eating. If they were fine having this weird dinner together, then I was too. Really it was no competition. I’d take pizza any day of the week.
Ben quietly got his own. He ate it with a knife and fork, pinky raised. Gray and I were using our hands. How pizza should be eaten.
“I did go after you—"
“After two years.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I explained earlier, it took me some time to get my life together. To forge my own path, so to speak. When I got to Italy—”
“How did you know we were there?” My words come out garbled since I had a mouthful of pizza.
“Regan, stop interrupting and listen.” He reprimanded me like a child. I kicked him under the table, but he ignored it. “I own a security firm. You were easy to find.” Ben gave me a ‘duh’ look. He had turned into a jerk once Gray arrived. Well, a bigger one, anyway. “When I arrived in Italy, I found you two in San Marco Square eating McDonald’s. You were sitting on a bench together. He said something to make you laugh. You threw your head back as a laugh exploded from you. That’s the only way to describe it. It exploded from you. The sound even carried across to where I was standing. I realized I never made you laugh like that. Ever. So, I walked away.”
“Then how did you know he was there? You made it sound like you two spoke to each other?” I asked Gray.
“We did. Gray assaulted me outside of my hotel later that evening.” My mouth dropped open at the accusation. Gray doesn’t assault people. He’s a big lumpy teddy bear.
“Assault is a strong word. Don’t ya think?” Gray said. “You got a few good punches in, too.”
“What word would you use?” I asked Gray.
“I persuaded him to leave us alone, you alone. We were happy. He had no right to try and barge back in.”
“I didn’t. I was planning on leaving peacefully. Instead, I still left, only with a black eye,” Ben said.
“I didn’t know that. You show up, out of the blue. She had finally put herself back together, and here you come.” Both men now stood at the table. Facing off like two prizefighters.
“Screw you both.” The moment between them shattered when I spoke. They both finally looked my way. I gathered my purse and stood. I swiveled my hand between them, pointing and jabbing my finger as I spoke. “You,” finger to Ben, “and you,” finger to Gray, “have dragged me into this ridiculous love triangle. How? How did this happen? You,” to Ben, “I don’t want you. I haven’t in a long time. And, I realize how much better off I am without you.” Finger to Gray. “And you! I didn’t realize how much I loved you, how much I needed you until I didn’t have you. But.” Finger jab for emphasis. “But, that doesn’t mean you get to assault old boyfriends.” Now that every pair of eyes in the restaurant was on us, I turned to go. I stepped back to the table, grabbing one more slice for the road. Gray’s eyes met mine.
“Regan, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t still want you.”
Chapter Sixteen
My heart lodged in my throat at his words. My fear over the last few days dissipated. He still wanted me. As fast as the fear dissolved, it reappeared. He may have admitted that he still wanted me, but where did we go from here? I did run out on him at a very vulnerable moment. Was I strong enough to rebuild? I’d never personally made that journey, but I had to guess it was not always a pleasant one. And what would we turn into? Would that time in our lives always be between us? I couldn’t answer those questions. If I turned around now, I was committing to the unknown. Or, I could keep walking. I knew what that felt like. To be alone and heartbroken. To rebuild yourself.
But I didn’t want to do that all over again. “Well, are you coming or not, then?”
Gray’s face split into a huge smile. He reached into his pocket, threw some money on the table, and headed my way. He placed his hand on the small of my back to lead me from the restaurant. For the second time, I walked away from Ben without looking back.
When we exited onto the street, Gray held my hand and we picked up our pace. I felt like a school girl with her high school crush, running a
way and ditching out on class. Gray pulled me into a doorway. It was a nail salon that had closed for the evening. The darkened entry gave us the illusion of privacy. He kissed me. I kissed him back. His fingers tangled in my hair as the kiss deepened. My body responded to his touch, but just as quickly he let me go, and put some space between us. As much space as the tiny confines would allow. His fingers were still tangled in my hair.
“This isn’t over, Regan. This isn’t a little argument we just move on from the next day.” His hand tugged my hair for emphasis.
“I know.” I brushed my lips against his. “I know what I’m doing.”
“There’s no going back to how things were.”
“I know.” I wanted to wrap myself around him, but he kept some distance between us.
“We play by rules this time.”
“Your rules? I’m not a good rule follower.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
“Don’t I know it.” He kissed me again. That one lasted longer than the first. “First rule. We go back to square one. Just a speedier version.”
“Square one?” I looked into his eyes. There was a trace of humor there over the intensity.
“A first date. Live music. Small venue. A glass of wine. Maybe an appetizer if it goes well. Ya know, you don’t want to commit to food and then regret it.”
I laughed at his reference. He said those same words to me the night we met and he asked me out for a drink.
“I’ll commit to the live music. Let me guess. Cubby Bear?”
“Live Band Karaoke. The only way to go.”
Fifteen minutes and one cab ride later we exited in front of the bar. The thumping rhythm could be heard out on the street. Someone was singing a very off-key version of Hit Me with Your Best Shot. I loved it right away.
The bar wasn’t even half full which made it even more perfect. Gray ordered two Goose Islands for us from the cocktail waitress. The off-key singer was just finishing up. She might not be able to carry a tune with a handle, but I gave her an A for effort. She worked the stage, and got the crowd riled up and excited.
