Forget About It

by Jessie Harper

  I don’t even pretend to look at the description of whatever mystery concoction Julia’s considering. “But he has a girlfriend?”

  “I don’t think he has a girlfriend exactly.” Julia grimaces. “I didn’t ask for details and my dad didn’t volunteer any. When Graham’s ready to tell me, he’ll tell me. Why all this interest?”

  “I’m not interested,” I lie. “I guess I just don’t know much about this side of him. It’s like secret life of Graham.” I keep the actual secrets to myself.

  “It’s only a secret to you, Cassie. Everyone else knows all about this. Well, not the possible girlfriend part, but the rest is common knowledge.” Julia gives me an irritated look. “If you tried having a regular conversation with him you’d know these things. I think if you gave him a chance you’d actually like him. Underneath all that macho bullshit of his is a reasonable guy.”

  I give Julia a harrumph. No sense in letting on that I know that already. “Is he worried about money? If he isn’t playing then he won’t have a paycheck.” I’m not concerned with how much money Graham has, but I’ve watched enough TV to know that professional athletes make bad financial decisions. The thought of Graham feeling stressed about his next move has me surprisingly upset.

  “I think he’s fine for money. He had pretty big contracts and he always knew he’d have to do something after football. I just think it was over sooner than he expected.” A flash of concern passes over Julia’s face but she shakes it off. “He’s good with budgeting and my dad made sure he hooked up with a financial planner. I think now the worry is less about the money and more about what Graham’s going to do to fill his time. My dad didn’t seem too worried about the girlfriend, but I’m nervous he’s diverting his attention. This wedding stuff probably isn’t helping.”

  I fidget in my seat. Would asking more questions look like concern for Julia or Graham? I can’t help but feel the guilt radiating off her shoulders. An adrift Graham isn’t completely Julia’s fault. She’s moved on—twice—while he chose to hang around waiting on her. A bubble of fear rises in my chest. Maybe he still is.

  “But your dad doesn’t think the new girl is a serious thing?” I can’t help myself. If Steve knows anything about my competition I’ll need to get as much information out of his daughter as possible. Poor Julia’s not even aware of my super sleuthing, possibly because I’m not really all that super at it.

  “No, he seemed surprisingly chill about it. I think we all want Graham to find someone. I really want him to be happy, to have a family of his own. He’s never had great luck with the women he dates. I think they’re attracted to him for the wrong reasons.”

  For the perks of dating an athlete? For his money? For his body? For nothing but sex? I lump myself into Julia’s broad category of women not worthy of Graham Stevens.

  “But Dad seemed almost relieved after he got off the phone with Dave. Dave’s Graham’s agent,” Julia tells me unnecessarily. I’ve met Dave in all his womanizing glory. Again I put the facts I’m omitting into the category of not a lie. “So I just have to trust that he thinks this woman isn’t a terrible match for Graham.”

  “But you didn’t ask about her?” I’m like a dog with a bone. “What does she look like? Did you get a name so we can Google her?” If it’s not me we’re talking about, I need to know who she is. But we can’t be talking about me, can we? And what if we are?

  “Why would I want to Google her?” Julia asks. “Anyway, I’m sure Dave vets all the girls Graham dates.”

  “Seriously? His agent vets them?” Another reason to keep my relationship with Graham to myself. “Isn’t that a little intrusive?”

  “Not when there are people who would want to take advantage of him. Dave’s just protecting his investment, really. It’s in his best interest for Graham to be happy, but it’s more important to him for Graham to keep making money. Paying some huge divorce settlement or paternity suit means more hassle for Dave.” Julia doesn’t seem to think too highly of Graham’s agent. Not that I can blame her.

  “Then how does he keep his private life, you know, private?” Any jealousy I’ve been feeling towards Graham’s mystery girl is slowly being replaced by pity. And the tiniest glimmer of fear. Who’d want to have their life scrutinized like that?

  “Graham?” Julia looks at me with amusement. “Graham doesn’t have a private life. He’s a former professional athlete. People want to know everything about him. It all comes out eventually.”

  Gulp.

  17

  Graham

  You promised you’d call.

  It seems like a legitimate reason to pull up Cassie’s number on my phone and dial it without all this hesitation. That’s what I keep telling myself as I hold the phone in my hand and stare at her contact information. Once again the screen goes dark and I have to hit the home button and put in my password for the millionth time. Still, I don’t actually make a move to put the call through. I told her I’d call when I got back, but now I’m doubting my decision to come on so strong. To push her so hard to give me more before she’s ready. To keep chasing her because I don’t like hearing no.

  My inability to dial her number only makes it more ridiculous that I’m parked in front of her apartment. I can actually see Cassie’s shadow behind the blinds in her living room. I had almost hoped she’d be at work but I have no idea which days she’s at the hospital this week thanks to my stubborn refusal to call her from Miami. That certainly worked out great. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder because all I could think about the whole time I was away was Cassie and this situation we’re in. But maybe it hasn’t exactly been my heart that’s been doing the thinking here. I thought about that more than I’d like, too. Then, I got off the plane exhausted and instead of driving straight home my brain went on autopilot and I find myself here, stalking Cassie from the parking lot.

  Her shadow moves through the living room again and I know I’m going to have to make a decision. I can’t reasonably sit out here all night. I let my head rest on the steering wheel. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be overthinking this. In a perfect world I’d be upstairs already, tangled up with Cassie. Right now nothing about this feels perfect.

  I groan and accidentally whack my head on the horn. The noise isn’t loud but it’s enough to have Cassie moving to the window, pulling up the blinds, and looking down at the dim parking lot. She scans the spaces and her eyes come to rest on the hood of my car. When my phone starts to vibrate in my hand I have no doubt who’s on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” I debate playing it off even more than this, but there’s no denying. Cassie sees me hunkered down here. “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to a crazy person, apparently. How long have you been sitting out there?” Cassie stands at the window, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Even from down here I can see the amusement on her face.

  “Not that long. I wasn’t sure you were home,” I lie.

  “Do you want to come up?” She asks it like it isn’t a big thing and even though I’ve been inside her apartment a handful of times now I’m not sure tonight that would be a good idea.

  “I don’t think I should.”

  “Um, okay.” Cassie waits for me to tell her why; I keep my mouth shut. “Then I guess I’m going to hang up now and let you get back to watching the squirrels or whatever.” She pulls the phone from her face and dramatically presses the end call button. My ear fills with silence. Cassie stays in front of the window, hands on her hips.

  What the hell am I doing? Sitting here straddling the fence while Cassie pouts close enough for me to see the outline of her bra through the window? I pick up my phone and call her back.

  “Hello?” she answers like I’m just calling her out of the blue.

  “Hey, sorry about that.”

  “No problem.” She actually doesn’t sound too bothered.

  “Can you come down here?” I
don’t trust myself to get out of the car.

  “I guess,” Cassie says. “Give me a minute.”

  I watch her move away from the window. Picture her walking through the apartment, grabbing her keys and turning the knob on the front door. Watch as she comes through the building’s entrance. Before I know it she’s rapping a knuckle on the driver’s side window. I roll it down, already embarrassed that I’ve called her out here.

  “What’s up?” Cassie asks like it’s the most normal thing in the world for us to be hanging out in this parking lot. “How was your trip?” I look up at her—tight yoga pants and tank top, hair pulled up in a ponytail, freckles sprinkled over the bridge of her nose—and immediately relax.

  “Can you get in?”

  She moves to the other side of the car without hesitation. “You aren’t planning on kidnapping me or anything are you? Because I have to work in the morning,” she deadpans as she slides into the passenger seat and closes the door.

  I shake my head even though the idea of speeding off with Cassie to some place where no one knows us does hold more than a little appeal. “I keep turning and twisting things over and I need you to help me figure out what to do.”

  “What to do?” Cassie looks concerned. “About what?”

  “About this.” I gesture between us. “About how to handle this. Cassie, I want to do right by you but I can’t figure out how to do that if things stay the way they are.”

  “Oh.” It’s a whisper between us.

  “There’s something here, right? I’m not the only one feeling it, am I?” I know I sound crazy, begging her to validate my feelings. It’s like we’re in some after school special and I’m the stereotypical girl wishing her crush would open up, needing to have a glimmer of hope.

  Cassie lets out a sigh. “You know I’m not good at this, Graham. I keep telling you that. You don’t want to do this with me. I’ve got issues, obviously, and I can’t give you what you want.” She pulls on her fingers, twisting them in her lap.

  “Sure you can. I want a chance. Just the possibility. If you don’t feel anything—if there’s nothing here—then say the word. But I can’t keep sitting in limbo. I’m not built that way. When I say I want to do this, I mean it. I want more than sex, Cassie. I think you might too.”

  Cassie’s hands move to her face, massage her temples. “Why can’t you just be like other guys?”

  “And do what? Only have sex with you?”

  “Yes.”

  I think of someone else with Cassie, just using her for her body like some blow-up doll. My fists clench and I have to make myself breathe. “You’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys.”

  “Maybe now you’re hanging out with the wrong girl.” Cassie’s suggestion makes me bristle.

  “You don’t really think that, do you?” She can’t. Unless I’m completely wrong about what’s been going on here.

  Cassie lets out a breath. “No. I wish I did.”

  “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.” Her lack of enthusiasm is a punch in the gut.

  “You know this won’t end well. It can’t,” Cassie tells me but she seems resigned to let things ride. She isn’t denying anything, isn’t breaking things off. That little glimmer of hope becomes more like a ray. “The truth is you’re already getting more than I’ve ever given anyone else. I just need you to stop pushing so hard. I’m not ready to quit this, but…”

  “But you aren’t ready to tell anyone,” I finish her thought. Now I’m the one who’s disappointed.

  “Can you handle that?”

  “Can I handle keeping this a secret? Maybe. But for how long, Cassie? I can’t do this forever.”

  She reaches across and takes my hand, the contact both maddening and steadying. I’m desperate to be with her, but not having it on my terms is driving me crazy. “I’m not asking you for forever. I’m just asking you to be a little more patient.”

  This is where I should walk away. Should get myself back to making decisions about my future and not worrying about something that’s obviously temporary. A distraction. Anyone else would see Cassie’s reluctance as a red flag and run as fast as they could away from this. That’s what she expects me to do only I’m not like every other man she’s been with. And so I give in. Lean toward her and let my lips slide over hers. She gasps but then settles into the kiss, pressing close.

  “Is that a yes, then?” she asks, the tiniest hint of unsureness in her voice.

  I kiss her again. “That’s a yes for now, I guess.”

  “Good.” She’s surprisingly relieved. Because I’ve stopped pushing or because I’m not running? With Cassie it’s impossible to tell. Either way she’s getting what she wants—at least until I can convince her that she wants something else. “Now do you want to come up? I have food in the fridge for once. I can make dinner and we can watch a movie.”

  “That sounds like a date.” I can’t help myself. “And I’m not watching When Harry Met Sally again.”

  “No promises.” Cassie shrugs. “Are you in or not?”

  Oh, I’m in.

  18

  Cassie

  “And then she had the nerve to act like she hadn’t asked me to cut it short like that! Can you believe that? Like I’d just take the scissors to a customer’s hair without them asking me to. That woman is crazy. She threatened to find someone else to do her hair and I was like, ‘Well be my guest, lady.’ I don’t need clients like that. I have enough stress in my life.”

  I’m not sure exactly what stress my mother’s referring to, but I’m sure she’s likely to tell me in the next three minutes. One thing you can always count on with Val is her need to give you all the gory details whether you want them or not. Want to know how I wrecked her body by having the gall to be born? She’ll tell you all about it. Questions about the wrinkles I’ve given her by being such a wild child? No need to even ask—Val will volunteer it. And the way my father ruined her life when he walked out? That one you don’t even need to wait for. That litany of complaints is on her greatest hits list. If you live within one hundred miles of here and haven’t heard about how Henry Blake made my mother’s life miserable, you should consider yourself lucky.

  “I mean, between trying to make a living and worrying about what you’re up to.”

  Here we go.

  “I worry, you know. Especially since you’re still livin’ by yourself. If you hadn’t dropped out of school I might worry less, but I guess we can’t change those bad decisions, can we?”

  I guess not, but we can certainly discuss them. Over and over and over again.

  “It’s not like I didn’t go back, Mom.” I try not to get sucked back into this old argument again.

  “Well sure, but now your degree isn’t from a good school and I never got back the tuition I had to pay upfront before you decided partying was your major.” She puts her hands on her hips and I brace myself for more criticism.

  “That was more than ten years ago. I’ve apologized and apologized. I’ve offered to pay you back. I could give you the money if you wanted it.”

  “No, that’s not the point.” Of course it isn’t. The point is that she has something to beat me over the head with. “The point is that you were more than a little selfish and it wouldn’t kill you to be a little less selfish now.”

  Ah, so here it comes. The reason Val’s summoned me to her house. It isn’t for some mother daughter bonding over lunch as promised. Such a shocker. There’s something she wants and she thinks I can help her get it. That was the reason for the saccharine phone call about how we never spend any time together. Of course we don’t. Ever since I was old enough to figure out how to extricate myself from Val’s toxic unhappiness I’ve spent as much time away from her as possible. In middle school I joined every after school club that would take me. In high school I ran to Julia’s house with her stable, if overbearing, parents. And in college? Well, the first time, I ran into whatever set of arms would open up for me, preferably one with a bot
tle of whiskey. That’s how I ended up failing out and flushing Val’s much mentioned tuition money down the proverbial toilet.

  When I finally got my shit together and went back to school, I had wised up a bit. I paid my own way, did the work, and came away with an associate’s degree that was enough to get me started. A nursing job and more education meant not having to hear my shortcomings every day. Now I can limit that lecture to a few times a year. So do I owe my mother? Not as much as she thinks.

  “And what is this thing you want me to do in the name of unselfishness?” I ask. “Are we at least going to eat while you plead your case here?”

  “Eat?” my mother asks like it’s the first she’s heard of it. “You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge, I guess. I thought you’d take me somewhere. Who wants to eat here?”

  “So, just to be clear, you invited me to come over for lunch expecting me to take you to a restaurant?” I would say I’m surprised but nothing surprises me anymore. Not where my mother’s concerned.

  “Sure. What’s wrong with that? I expected you to volunteer to take me somewhere, but obviously you need to be reminded that your mama would enjoy being catered to a bit every now and then.”

  Obviously. “I’m not taking you out to lunch today, Mom. I wouldn’t have driven all the way over here if we could have just met somewhere. We’ll have to make do with whatever you’ve got here.”

  “What, do you have plans or something?” Val asks in that voice that lets me know she’s fishing for information. “What’s so important you can’t make time for your mother?”

  I do have plans. Hot, sweaty plans with my top secret not-boyfriend. Plans I will never tell my mother, not even if she enlisted every soldier from Guantanamo to torture it out of me. “No. No plans. I just need to get home in time to get ready for work.”