by Alexa Martin
“Fine, I’ll be right back.” His jaw locks and his hands fidget for a moment before he swipes to answer the phone. “Hello?” I hear him say, but that’s all I hear before he hurries out of earshot.
The optimistic side of me thought it was probably just a relentless telemarketer, but I’ve never met anyone who wants privacy talking to one. So the realist side of me knows two things. Not only is the person on the other end of the line not selling something, Maxwell knew exactly who he’d be talking to the moment that phone rang.
And now I feel awkward AF standing in the museum staring at chairs during my lunch break. I check my phone and startle when I see the time. Almost two o’clock. My hour lunch break has turned into two. There’s no way I’m going to avoid questions. I need to head back.
I look longingly at the remaining three chairs, one of which is so shiny, it calls to the very core of who I am as a person, and go to track down Maxwell.
When I find him, his back is to me as he looks over the railing to the bottom floor.
“Saturday night I’ll be at the hotel with the team, I’ll text you the address and you can meet me there.” His hushed tone perks up my ears. “I gotta go. Bye.”
The taquitos I scarfed down in a very unladylike manner suddenly feel like bricks. The vibrant art scattered strategically all around me seems dull and colorless as what he said processes in my mind. No wonder he didn’t want to answer the phone in front of me—nothing kills the mood like the other women you’re talking to. And I want to get mad. I want to stomp away and tell him to go screw himself, but I have no reason to. He owes me nothing. We are friends and he’s never hinted at wanting more. Me getting ahead of myself and letting his full lips and beautiful eyes get my hopes up is on nobody except me. I’ve just never met anyone who is as thoughtful and attentive as he is, and I guess I read more into things than I should have.
This was not a date. This was lunch with a friend.
A friend I really wanted to kiss.
He slides his phone back into his pants without turning around.
“There you are!” I say way too loud, and garner dirty looks from a guy in a very official headset. “I just realized what time it is, and I really need to head back if you don’t mind.”
“Oh.” He looks disappointed for a second. But then his eyes turn up at the corners and he smiles. It’s a smile that, even though I’m mad disappointed, I still can’t deny will probably make people come over and stare, thinking he is a thing of art. “I guess I can’t keep you to myself all day. Let’s get you back to HERS.”
If only he knew how much I wouldn’t mind if he kept me to himself.
Eleven
If there is one thing that can take my mind off the crushing disappoint of my non-date with Maxwell yesterday, it’s Wednesday meetings.
Once a month, every month during the football season, I close HERS to the public and open it up to the Lady Mustangs to have their Wednesday meeting.
The first Wednesday meeting we unofficially hosted was a sneak attack to basically piss off Marlee while she was working here.
It was a shit storm that ended up becoming a viral video that has since been remixed and turned into quite the catchy tune. It was insane and I ended up passed-out drunk in my childhood home that night. However, the bill was large enough for me to offer up a space for them to hold future meetings.
I just got smarter and closed them to the public.
I love hearing the ridiculousness that occurs and not feeling left out of the drama. Plus, these women drink like fish, especially considering that their meetings take place in the middle of the afternoon.
“So, is everything in place for the auction next week?” Vonnie, who happens to be the new president of the Lady Mustangs, asks me.
“Pretty much.” I tell her what she already knows, since we talked on the phone for at least an hour last night. “I just need the final okay on the menu and three names for the specialty cocktails we’ll be having. I’ll close up after the lunch rush and you guys can come and set up.”
The Mustangs Player Auction is the first big event that HERS will be hosting, and I’m freaking out. When the Lady Mustangs came up with the idea of a player auction to raise money and wanted to use HERS as the venue, I tried my hardest not to get my hopes up. Sure, they have their meetings here, but as much as I love it, I know there are bigger and fancier venues for them to use. And also, I had no idea if the Mustangs organization would go for an auction.
The whole thing sounded doubtful.
So when Jane Hart, the Lady Mustangs liaison, came to me with an offer of ten thousand dollars to hold the inaugural Mustangs auction, I damn near passed out.
Instead, remembering how women don’t ask for enough money and knowing that the first offer is always the lowest, I countered for fourteen thousand.
Jane agreed.
Then she told me they would’ve gone to seventeen.
I would’ve done it for four.
So clearly, I was the winner here.
And then the panic set in.
I’ve been going over every detail with Vonnie for the last four months. We’ve done everything from meeting with event coordinators, to bringing in a new chef to help spruce up my existing menu and come up with new things just for this event, to even taking a few bartending classes to help spark some cocktail creativity.
Because if I want the Mustangs organization to see HERS outside of being a gossipy point of interest on a reality show, I have to nail this event.
“Good, then me and a few of the girls”—that’s code for Aviana, Charli, Jacqueline, and Poppy, even though she’s not technically part of the group anymore—“will hang around after and hammer those final details out. Five more days, ladies, and it’s here.” Vonnie does a great job of keeping her voice steady, concealing the nerves she’s fighting so hard not to let anyone see. “I’m so thankful for all of your hard work, and I know this is going to go off without a hitch. Northern Harbor is going to be able to help so many women and children, so know that your dedication means something.”
Northern Harbor is a local women’s shelter in Denver. They have a huge location with living spaces for women and their children who have left abusive relationships. With the money we will hopefully raise at the auction, they will be able to staff full-time caregivers for children so the women can go on job interviews and not have to worry about day care once they are employed. It will also go to paying the rent for women when the shelter is full.
Vonnie also had an idea for a clothing drive and collected a literal truckload of women’s and children’s clothing for the shelter.
So not only is this a huge opportunity for HERS, I get to feel really good about the work we’re doing.
“Any other questions, comments, or concerns?” Vonnie asks the room. When she’s met with silence, she lifts the glitter gavel that still makes me laugh and hits it against the table. “Fantastic, meeting adjourned.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she shouts, “And don’t forget to tip your server!”
That’s my girl.
Paisley, Tanya, and I scurry around the room, collecting checks from some and delivering fresh drinks to others. Poppy still likes to feel involved but is having a hard time with standing for long periods of time, so I stuck a stool behind the bar and she’s been helping with the cocktails.
We do this for another hour until the final two Lady Mustangs finish their last drink and leave a tip so big, Tanya almost cries.
“That was a good meeting,” I say to Vonnie without a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
She lifts her chin. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Aviana answers, even though I think it might have been a rhetorical question. “Now that Dixie left and you took over, I don’t actually dread them. And it feels like we’re accomplishing something and not just listening to her talk about herself.”
“I ordered us T-shirts,” Jacqueline says. “I got a new jersey from the Jersey Lady, and she said she’d give me a discount if I ordered a bulk amount of shirts, so I did. I was hoping they’d be here by now, but I won’t get them until the next meeting since it was such a huge order.” She flushes scarlet and looks at Vonnie. “Yours says ‘Boss Lady’ on the back.”
We all stare at her, our mouths agape.
I looked at the Jersey Lady’s website for shits and giggles once. To send in your jersey and have her cut, sew, and bedazzle it into a new creation was five hundred dollars . . . for the most basic style.
Jacqueline had to be out at least three grand for this.
But I guess crushing the Victoria’s Secret runway, making men all over the world want you in Sports Illustrated, and becoming the darling of Love the Player gives you spending freedom.
Damn. Come to think of it, Jacqueline’s fucking killing it right now.
“Dammit, Jac,” I say once my brain kicks into gear again. “I was going to order shirts too! You stole my idea.”
Her face falls and three heads swing my direction.
“Except I was going to go to the little booth in the Aurora mall and get some white tees airbrushed. I was thinking a giant Mustang riding out of a cloud would be really fitting.”
A cherry from Poppy’s Shirley Temple hits me on the cheek. “You’re an idiot.” Poppy laughs, quickly adding another two cherries to her glass.
“I can’t stand your ass.” Vonnie laughs before turning back to Jacqueline, who looks relieved, but also like she may be reconsidering how much time she spends around me. “Thank you, that’s seriously the nicest thing you could’ve done. I love that you guys are actually proud to be Lady Mustangs now.” She looks to the ground, her voice thicker than usual. “It means a lot to me.”
“Are you crying?” Charli yells out. “Group hug, people!”
Charli jumps onto Vonnie’s back as we all rush around and join in before Vonnie turns on us all. I normally hate hugs, but since the purpose of this one is to irritate Vonnie, I decide to join in.
“‘We love Vonnie’ on three,” Charli instructs with a goofy grin on her face. “One. Two. Three!”
“We love Vonnie!” we all yell in sync, laughing our asses off, clinging on as tight as we can as Vonnie tries to escape.
“Oh! I love Vonnie too!” Paisley cries out, running out of the back office, jumping in on the action.
“And I love hugs!” Tanya runs and piles on.
“What the fuck?” a deep voice calls from across the room. “Careful! You’re probably squishing my baby!”
TK rushes over, extracting Poppy from the lovefest and giving Vonnie her out.
“They can’t squish the baby, killjoy.” Poppy rolls her eyes, but even that can’t detract from the hearts in them every time TK is near.
Love. Gross. Bah humbug.
“Better safe than sorry.” He wraps a huge arm around her tiny body and then turns his attention to me. “How’s the car? Sorry about the other night.”
“Not a problem. It’s good now, thanks.” I walk around the bar and grab a rag to clean the tables.
“Wait,” Poppy says. “What happened to your car?”
Oh. Shit.
You know that moment where you see something bad coming and you know it’s going to hit you, but you’re too close to do anything to avoid being hit? This is that moment.
“Flat tire, it wasn’t a big deal.” I try and downplay it, but when I see the evil smirk under TK’s beard, I know I’m fucked.
“She was stuck on the side of I-25 in the middle of the night.” TK gives them unnecessary details. I wonder how angry Poppy will be if I kick her fiancé hard enough that this will be their last baby.
“What?” all five say together.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Charli asks. “I would’ve gotten you!”
“And me,” Aviana chimes in.
“Me three,” Jacqueline says quietly.
“Bitch, you know I would’ve been there in a second.” Vonnie wags a pointy nail in my face. “What did you do?”
“It was fine, I’m here, aren’t I?” I say at the same time TK’s big-ass mouth says, “Maxwell picked her up.”
My friends even fell in love with snakes!
“WHAT?” Poppy shouts. “That’s why he left without saying bye? And you didn’t tell me?” She glares at TK, and I use all my self-control not to blow a raspberry his way and say “nanny-nanny boo-boo.”
His eyes go wide and he holds his hands in front of his chest. “She’s your friend, I thought she’d fill you in.”
She turns to me, her pregnancy hormones making her a really scary, angry person. “Why didn’t you fill us in?”
I swear, her eyes are two seconds away from glowing red.
“Because there was nothing to fill in. He took me home and that’s it.”
“Is it, Brynn?” TK asks, his lips pursed together but laughter in his eyes. “Is that really it?”
“I hate you,” I snarl.
TK is officially the newest member occupying my shit list.
“What else happened?” Jacqueline grabs my shoulders, shocking me so much that I accidentally tell them everything.
“He picked me up, we went back to my place and watched a few episodes of Parks and Recreation because, can you believe that he’s never seen it? I mean, Leslie Knope is a freaking icon and I couldn’t let him go through life without knowing—”
“I swear to God, if you ramble one more word about that old-ass sitcom, I’m going to end you,” Vonnie says, cutting me off.
“Geez.” I look at her with big eyes, but she’s not having any of it. Dammit. “Then he went home and picked me up yesterday morning to take me to the mechanic.”
This is why I was like a secret agent going out yesterday. “No witnesses” might have to be my new life mantra.
“That’s it?” Charli narrows her eyes like she’s some kind of human lie detector.
“Yes, crazy lady!” I lie, and throw the rag at her. “Now will you leave me alone?”
“Does anyone believe her?” Aviana asks.
“No.” Poppy looks greener now than she did a minute ago, but even near vomiting, she has no problem calling me on my shit.
This is why I was fine having one friend who lives almost two thousand miles away.
“You were all up in my business with TK. If you think I’m letting you out of this easy, you are so wrong.” Poppy rushes through the last words before spinning on a flip-flop and sprinting to the bathroom.
She has a point, and as bad of a friend as it might make me, I’m so thankful she has to throw up or she’d probably see the guilt written all over my face.
“And you.” I point an unpolished, in-desperate-need-of-a-manicure finger at TK. “You need a hobby. Or a job. Go get a job.”
He throws a large hand over his chest. “You wound me, Brynny Bear.”
“Boy, you better take your fine ass to go check on Poppy.” Vonnie points to the bathroom door. “That’s your job.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” TK salutes like he wasn’t itching to run after Poppy already.
I was right, obviously.
As soon as Poppy told TK she was pregnant, he turned into her dutiful servant. When I swung by her house Monday morning to bring her a muffin from HERS, TK had a pile of pregnancy books covering their coffee table.
Poppy told me that he also bought Ace and the baby matching shirts and Jordans.
“That man.” Vonnie clucks after him, color tingeing her cheeks. “He just does something to me.”
“I’m more of a Maxwell admirer myself,” Aviana says, her eyes glued to me for a reaction.
I roll my eyes. “He’s just a friend.”
“Suuuure.” Aviana nods, tossi
ng her glamorous locks over her shoulder.
I shake my head, pushing past them and ignoring the cackling so I can wipe down the tables like I’ve been attempting to do for the last fifteen minutes.
Twelve
“Are you out of here?” Paisley asks from behind the bar.
“I am, but call me if you need anything. I’ll just be at my dad’s so I can come back fast if anything happens.”
My dad stopped by after the Wednesday meeting had finally cleared out, and made promises of my favorite seafood spaghetti and his homemade breadsticks if I committed to dinner at his house tonight.
Obviously I said yes.
I still haven’t gone to the grocery store and I’m not sure how much longer I can live on protein bars and spoonfuls of peanut butter.
“I think I can handle it.” She waves me off. “Tell your dad I said hi.”
“Will do, see you tomorrow.” I push through the heavy all-glass door I had installed over the summer, holding it open for a group of five women, all dressed to the nines, as they file in.
Friday nights are always busy, but on a night like tonight, when the stars are out, the weather is beautiful, and the Colorado air is so crisp you just want to bottle it up, it’s extra hectic. HERS has had a steady flow of customers all day long, and when I hit the sidewalk, I see we are not alone. Fresh has started staying open later, offering Friday night poetry readings, and people of all different colors, shapes, and sizes are packed inside. The window is full of plaid, denim, and cutoff tees.
Backspin Bistro, the restaurant with Ping-Pong tables covering half of their space, has a line out the door of people waiting to either play tennis or eat. Men in beanies, even though it still has to be at least seventy degrees out, chat with women who are determined to rock their short shorts until winter tells them not to.
It’s weird to me. That all of us can come to the same places, laugh, smile, and for a moment, our lives are in sync. But then we leave and those bonds we had so casually made are severed. The women you laughed with as you both fixed your lipstick in the bathroom are forgotten. We are so intertwined, yet at the same time, so distant that no cocktail or Ping-Pong game can ever bridge the gap. But for a moment, these places change that. For a small window in our lives, differences are forgotten and the only thing that matters is being happy with whoever surrounds you.
