by S. L. Scott
She wants answers I can’t give her, but I search for the right thing to say in her time of need. “These objects are a reminder. That’s all. It’s not him. It’s just stuff.”
She turns and hugs me, squeezing me hard while pressing her cheek to me. I wrap my arms around her, appreciating every moment like this that I’m given, and try to steady my heart.
She looks up and says, “Your heart is racing.”
“I hurried here to see you.” It’s not a complete lie, but me rushing over here has nothing to do with why my heart is beating so fast right now.
That makes her smile, but she sees through the lie. “So, Rachel called you?”
“No, Justin.”
“Rachel called Justin to call you?” She laughs lightly as she wipes at one of her eyes again.
“Something like that. You want to blow off this place and go somewhere else?”
She looks around. “I want to stay for a while longer. Will you stay with me?”
“Of course.” I follow her as she walks over to a desk hidden behind a screen and reaches into her purse, pulling a flask out. That makes me smile. “You drinking on the job, Ms. Barrow?”
“Rachel gave this to me. Maybe I should ask her why she has it at work.” She laughs again, but this time it’s hollow. “Guess she figured I needed it more than she did today.” She takes a quick swig, scrunches her nose at the taste, and hands it to me.
I look around first. The auction is about to start, so the potential bidders have left, but the screen is hiding us from the public anyway, so I take a quick sip. The whiskey burns as it coats my throat. “I didn’t know Rachel was a whiskey drinker. Maybe I should have given her another chance.” I take a risk and joke.
That wins me a dirty look and a punch to the arm. “Ow!” I grab my arm and play along. It never hurts, but it makes her feel good that maybe she’s strong enough to do a little damage.
She takes another gulp and tugs on my shirt. “Come on. I want to show you something over here.” She leads me back to the display case and points at a ring in the middle on the top shelf. It’s sparkling and simple in design—platinum with diamonds scattered around. “That’s my engagement ring.”
I lean in closer. “Really?”
“It’s Tiffany’s, but it wasn’t that expensive.” She smirks, glancing at me. “Cherry hated it. I loved it. Simple, beautiful, not showy. He gave it to me because he said he thought the ring was pretty and reminded him of me. He bought it with me in mind.”
“It’s very pretty. You gave it back when you broke up?”
“No. When we moved here after college it was quickly replaced with what was deemed a ‘proper’ ring. Four perfect carats. Princess cut. Platinum band. It was breathtaking. I was so surprised. I loved it until, one night at a dinner party at his parents’ house, Cherry told the story of how she forced him to go shopping for a ring worthy of the Bennett name, and that she picked out the new one.” She stands up straight, turning her back to the case and sips from the flask.
The auction has started, and two employees remain back here, waiting to move furniture when the auction is finished. They’re burly guys who don’t look like they will tell on her for drinking.
I take another sip after her, impressed how she’s drinking the straight liquor without complaint.
She goes to Jim’s couch and sits down heavily, dropping her head back. “God, I loved this couch. It’s ridiculous how expensive it was, but it’s so comfortable.”
I smile and sit down next to her, handing the flask back.
She rolls her head to the side and smiles at me when our eyes meet. “The whole ring thing was a joke to Cherry. They were laughing at the little band that Jim bought me in college. They were laughing at us, taking away from the sweet proposal. He gave me a ring that he knew I’d like, a ring that fit who I was. That night, he took it all away by laughing with her. He held my hand up to show the new, Cherry-approved ring to the other guests.” She slides across the leather and says, “I gave Cherry’s ring back to him the night we broke up. By accident, though, I forgot and left the other ring in my dresser drawer when I moved out. I had hidden it there for months, like I was protecting it or something.”
The silence that falls is weighted with sadness, and all I want to do is erase all the bad. I speak before I have time to think through what I’m saying. “I’ll buy you the ring if you want it.”
She sits up, stunned, and then her expression softens. She smiles while touching my cheek, and whispers, “You would, too, wouldn’t you?”
I lean into her hand. “Anything for you.”
She falls gently against me and places her head on my shoulder. “You’re too good to me.” She takes a deep breath and exhales. “I don’t want the ring. His mother sent it back to me with Jim’s funeral announcement. I gave it to Rachel to add to the sale a month ago. As much as it hurts to see it here as another one of his possessions up for sale, I don’t want it anymore. I have the memories, and the memories are less tainted than the jewelry.”
She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she says, “When I look around at all of this stuff, all I see is a life that never was. Empty promises in the life I shared with him.” She points at a table. “That picture frame held our engagement photo. I served our first meal in our apartment on those dishes. That crystal vase held the flowers he had auto-delivered on a weekly basis to our house, not for me, but to make an impression. It was a life I never wanted and never adjusted to. It’s a life that felt hopeful at one point, but it was forced. I see that now. These things were his and Cherry’s, never mine. The only thing I was ever allowed to contribute is that cheap painting. It’s all I could afford, but I loved it all the same. Cherry hung it in the guest bedroom. I used to read in that bedroom, just so I could look up and see it.”
I knew that piece stood out. I glance over at the painting one more time, and it makes me smile. It’s a painting I would be drawn to if I saw it for sale somewhere other than this auction.
She sighs, looking at me. “I’ll hold onto my memories. I’m ready to let this stuff go.”
I squeeze her hand. “I think you’re a smart and wonderful woman. You know that?”
She sits up and laughs. “Yeah,” she says, polishing her nails like she’s told how awesome she is all the time. “That’s why you love me so much.”
“Just one of the many reasons.” That statement is truer than she allows herself to realize. I chuckle to myself, and as I look into her bright eyes, I see the Charlie I’ve wholeheartedly fallen for return—the happy, snarky, and beautiful woman that she is.
Chapter 21
Charlie looks so relaxed as she sits on Jim’s couch—her former couch—and her mood has shifted compared to when I first arrived. She doesn’t look sad, but seems contemplative.
“I talked to Jim’s sister, Kelsey, today. She stopped by earlier.”
“You were close?”
“I thought so, but things have changed. I’ve changed. We chatted for a few minutes, but it was strained. I think I’m the outcast now, a little stain on the image of perfection they had of him.”
“Own it, Charlie. Stay true to yourself.”
That makes her smile, mischievousness sneaking in. “You’re right. I’ve always been the outcast in their eyes. I should be proud they couldn’t change me.” She angles her body toward me and says, “You never told me about your first love, black sheep.” She pokes me in the chest for extra emphasis on her little pun.
“You’re a clever one.” I sit forward, reaching to ruffle her hair, but she ducks away too fast. So instead, I ask, “You want to stay here and see how this all plays out sales-wise? Or, I can buy you dinner?”
She stands. “You know the way to my heart, big boy. Let’s go.” She takes my hand and pulls me up with her.
After sneaking out the back, we don’t go far, because there’s a bar across the street she wants to go into.
“You meant a liquid dinner, right?” Whe
n she starts to laugh, I’m reminded of the part in my book I wrote this morning.
“I’m cool with whatever you want.”
“Two Jack and Cokes, barkeep,” she calls, as we slide onto stools at the bar.
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“Absolutely. I’m trying to get us both drunk.”
“Both of us drunk turns into—”
“Debaucherous behavior?” Her eyes and sly smile give away her devilish mood.
I chuckle. “I’ll give you debaucherous, though we both know I totally won the bet on that word.”
The drinks are set in front of us, and I pass my credit card over.
She toasts. “I think I love the word more now that I know it’s wrong. It’s an outcast, like us. To outcasts and black sheep, Mr. Adams.” She hits her glass against mine, making the liquid slosh.
“To outcasts and black sheep, Ms. Barrow.”
After taking a long drink, I watch as she relaxes her shoulders. She looks carefree, more like the woman I know—the woman I spend time with on Saturday afternoons.
“You’re not getting out of the love story, by the way,” she says, taking another sip.
I look down at my drink and wish I could smile, but the memories aren’t good. I spin my glass around twice, watching the ice cubes melt and hear them jangle together. Her eyes are on me. I don’t have to look at her to feel them, but she remains quiet. I finish the liquor then tap the empty glass on the bar twice to signal the bartender that I need another.
When I’m ready, I look at Charlie and start to talk. “Her name was Stephanie Dardusko. Wow. I haven’t said that name out loud in years. It still makes me chuckle. Sort of how you amuse me on a daily basis.”
“I hope you aren’t teasing me,” she says, faux-pouting. “I’m vulnerable tonight.”
“I thought teasing was all we did? Teasing is what we’re good at.”
“Well then. I’ll take that as a compliment, and by the way, change the subject much?”
“Fine, fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I met Stephanie one summer when I was in college. I came home to the city for summer break. I was partying too hard, but you’ve heard about that. I was drunk and horny, and Stephanie was, too.” I set my drink down and turn toward Charlie. “That’s real attractive, huh? Drunk and horny. Can you tell we both had high standards back then?” Remembering what an idiot I was embarrasses me even now.
“I’m not here to judge you.” The way she says that makes me believe her. She’s here to support me, to get to know me better, to know the man that all of these stories created. “How old were you?”
“Twenty. We hooked up, and the summer passed in a drunken haze. We partied in the Hamptons, at the newest nightclubs, the hottest restaurants, and we had sex . . . a lot of sex, everywhere. We were oblivious to the rest of the world, so we did stupid stuff. The problem is that summer ended, and I had to return to reality, to school. She came with me and lived in my apartment that year. She was just there doing nothing but drinking, continuing the party that we started in Manhattan months earlier.”
I rub my eyes, realizing this is affecting me even more than I thought it would. Maybe I haven’t put my own ghosts to bed.
“We were together almost ten months before we had our first fight, and when it did happen, it was bad. I was too sober and she was too drunk. She was yelling before I even walked in the door. I could hear her screaming all the way down the hall. I thought she was cheating on me with someone, but when I opened the door, it was just her. She was belligerent and throwing things. Broke all kinds of stuff. Shattered a picture of me and my buddies. Destroyed some of my textbooks. She just went crazy.”
I pause to take a deep breath, the image of her freaking out running through my head.
Charlie’s hand rubs my back as she asks, “Are you all right? We don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want.”
“I want you to know all of this, everything about me, even the bad.” I turn on the stool toward her and finish my story. “I remember noticing how beautiful she was in her rage. It was the most passion I’d seen from her in months. That’s when I realized how bad she’d gotten. I didn’t complain because I loved her. I had fallen in love with her that year. I liked having her around, having her at my apartment. I liked coming back from class and seeing her there waiting for me. I liked all the wrong things about her. I couldn’t be someone’s entire world, because it sets them up for disappointment. When she flipped out, I saw the truth. I saw who she really was and how bad she’d gotten. I think I had seen it before that night, but didn’t want to admit it.
I was more screwed than I knew at the time. Later that night, I found the remainder of a line of cocaine on my government textbook. Now that I think of it, that’s kind of ironic. Very anti-establishment of her. It was like her way of telling the world to screw off. Next to the cocaine, I found bank receipts. I guess that was her way of screwing me over.”
“She stole money from you?”
“Over the course of ten months, she took just over fifteen grand without me knowing. It was from my private account, not my parents’. In high school, I never spent much money when my friends and I went out. They all had money, so I saved mine.”
She’s looking down at her lap, and I can see the pain in her expression, her sympathy for me. She whispers, “You loved her. So, what happened?”
“I broke up with her and kicked her out that night. Needless to say, I knew she had the money for a hotel.” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my tone, but it’s there. “The next day, I saw her leaving a neighbor’s apartment. They were kissing.”
I look back at my drink, the humiliation creeping back, and say, “It hurt to find out she was stealing from me, because she didn’t have to. I gave her money all the time. I would’ve given her more. But to see her making out with that guy . . .” I exhale, hoping to release the pain I’m surprised I still feel over Stephanie.
“One of my favorite qualities about you is that you trust people. You believe them good until they prove themselves otherwise. Don’t change that.” She leans closer and asks, “Do you blame yourself?”
“For her stealing, nah. Sometimes I do wonder if she was hooking up with that guy on the side, though. She met me in that party environment, and then a few months later, I changed. I was a serious student again. Sure, I still drank and went to parties, but only on the weekends. I guess she thought I was one way, and then when I went back to school, I was different. I conned her. Not on purpose, but in reality that’s what happened. I’m sure following me to college was quite boring for her, compared to our life that previous summer.”
“You’re too good, Charlie. You believe you’re to blame for the drugs and the fight, as if you created the person she became? You didn’t, and she could have done something with her life. She should have been going to school or working, but she chose to lie around doing nothing.” Charlie touches my knee, and the sensation takes over, running up and down my body. Her touch. Her comforting me now.
“She was that way when you met her at the party, remember? Drunk and horny. She used you, and yet you’re blaming yourself for her actions.”
I take a gulp, letting her words sink in. “That’s an interesting perspective.”
“It’s true. You were handsome and rich, just the target she was trying to bull’s-eye.”
I chuckle. “Were?”
“Were what?”
“ ‘Were’ good-looking? You don’t think I’m good looking now?” I ask, teasing.
That makes her laugh, lightening the mood. “What if I tell you no?”
“You’d hurt my ego.”
“And if I tell you yes?”
“I’d pop my collar and might even strut a little,” I say with a wink.
“Oh, this I’ve got to see. Charlie, you’re very handsome, but I also think you already know that.”
I stand, pop the collar on my shirt, and strut the length of the bar. “Like what you see, baby? I
s this what you want?”
A woman leans back and says, “If she doesn’t, I do.”
“Hands off, lady, he and his inflated ego are all mine,” Charlie says, leaning back then laughing.
I whisper to the lady, “Sorry, I’m taken.”
Straight-faced, she states, “The offer still stands if you two break up before you leave tonight.”
I smirk. “I’m hoping she keeps me for a while.” As I start to walk away, she slaps my ass. “Wow!” I rush back to my stool. “Did you see that?”
“I sure did, and I can’t blame the lady. You do have a nice ass.”
“I’m good-looking and now I’ve got a nice ass? It’s time to get you home. You’re obviously drunk if you’re complimenting me freely.”
“Am not.”
“You so are.” I slide off the stool and hug her head to my chest. “But I still love ya.”
She giggles, wiggling her way out of my silly hold.
I sign the tab, and a few minutes later, we’re out the door and I’m hailing a cab. Charlie leans her head on my shoulder again as we sit back in the taxi. The sounds of the city lull us both as our emotions from the day start to dissipate.
I hop out, helping her out of the cab in front of her building. “You gonna be okay?” I ask because, even though I’m not drunk, I’ve drunk enough to know that I’d try to take advantage of the situation if I escort her up to her apartment.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She leans forward, grabbing the front of my shirt and pulling me closer to her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming to the auction, for the drinks, and for sharing a piece of you, an important piece.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for listening. Hey, and Charlie? Next time, call me if you need support. That’s what I’m here for.”
“And to think I thought you were here for the entertainment.”
“You’ve sorely underestimated me and my skills, then,” I say, grinning.
