CLAM JAM

by RC Boldt

  “Talk to Jack about what?”

  Sarah and I both jump, startled to see Jack step up to our table. Looking handsome as ever, his hair appears damp and darker, as if he just showered. He has on a pair of black, loose fitting shorts that show off his muscular, toned legs and a gray, sleeveless, cotton shirt displaying his strong, corded arms.

  “Hey, stranger.” I rise from my seat and give him a hug before Sarah follows suit.

  “So what did you need to talk to me about?”

  When I falter for a response, Sarah doesn’t hesitate to help me out. “She’s worried that Ry’s cheating on you.”

  His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “Really?” I swear the corners of his lips twitch the slightest bit.

  “And,” Sarah pauses dramatically, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s enjoying this moment, “he’s snagging all her potential dates.”

  Jack lets out a gasp. “No.” Shaking his head in dismay, he sets his iced coffee down on our table. “I just can’t believe he’d do that to me.” Focusing on me again, he asks, “Are you sure he was trying to steal these other guys away from you? You sure that he wasn’t just his usual outgoing, friendly self?”

  Spotting a free chair, Jack quickly commandeers it, bringing it over to join us at our small table. “Because let’s be honest. Ry is pretty damn charismatic.”

  Giving him a look, I say, “He asked one of the guys what his sign was.” I hold up a hand when both his and Sarah’s mouth open to form protests, continuing with, “He also asked one of the guys what he thought of his pickup line, which was, and I quote, ‘Are you a ninety-degree angle? Because, man, you are looking right.’”

  They both find this hilarious. Jack throws his head back in a loud laugh, gathering attention from quite a few people while Sarah’s hiding her face in her hands, muffling her laughter as her shoulders shake.

  I wait for them to collect themselves. The truth is, I know that I’d likely find it amusing, too—if it hadn’t happened to me while I thought I was actually connecting with the guy.

  “Or how about this one.” I pause, waiting for their attention. “Hey, if my name were Microsoft, would you let me crash at your place tonight?”

  Jack loses it on this one, head bowed as his shoulders rise and fall with his laughter. Finally, he points at me and says, “Now, that’s Ry, for sure. The computer nerd in him would totally say that.”

  Sarah’s lips press thin, and I know she’s trying not to laugh. Narrowing my eyes on them, I shake my head as I take a sip of my coffee. “You both are overwhelmingly supportive.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I huff out a long breath. “What am I going to do? I’ll never manage to find a guy if this continues.”

  “Maybe you’re rushing things, and it’s too soon to get back into the dating scene— Ouch!” Jack stares at Sarah, the two of them exchanging an odd look.

  “Sorry,” she says woodenly, still holding his stare. “My foot must’ve slipped.” Their gazes are locked, and it gets to the point where it’s getting awkward to watch.

  “Um, guys?” I wave a hand between them as if to try to break whatever weird telepathic thing they have going on. Finally, they snap out of it, and Jack mutters under his breath about his shin having a bruise now and how “nurses are supposed to heal, not hurt.”

  “Things’ll turn up, Maggie.” Jack nods confidently. “I’m sure of it.”

  If only I felt as confident.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ry

  “You look like you just lost your puppy.”

  I look up to see Mike, the bartender, eyeing me as he’s filling some glasses with beer on tap. “Just a rough week.”

  He glances around as if looking for someone. “Maggie head out with that guy tonight?”

  “Yep.” My curt response is punctuated with a slug of my beer. Self-disgust ricochets through me. Because I’d failed at clam jamming. And that leaves me here alone while Maggie’s off.

  With him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mike hand off the beers to a server before returning to fill another order for cocktails, if the stainless steel shaker is any indication. Once he serves the two ladies at the end of the bar, he comes back and starts pouring a shot, sliding it in front of me.

  Meeting his eyes, I shake my head, sliding it back toward him. “Thanks but no thanks, man. Not in the mood.”

  He slides it right back to me, tipping his head in the direction of the two women he’s just served. “It’s on them.”

  My eyes flit over to the women in surprise, forcing a smile as I raise the shot to toast them with a brief nod of thanks. They’re attractive enough—one is a petite blonde with a wide, friendly smile and the other a redhead who’s wearing a bit too much eye makeup for my liking. Not to mention, she has a sparkle in her eyes and not the kind of sparkle I’d welcome. It’s one of those sparkles that says, I like to tie up men and flog them until they call me Mama. And I’m not into that kind of freaky shit. Even on a bad day when I’m feeling low.

  Like today.

  And yeah, they’re clearly interested, but they’re just not what I’m looking for. They’re just not … Maggie.

  Tossing back the shot, I welcome the burning path the alcohol leaves as it trickles down my throat, wishing it would either take away the burning ache in my chest at the thought of what might be going on right now between Maggie and Sean. Or wishing it would just burn enough to erase all thoughts of Maggie.

  “Hey.” My head turns to find one of the women—the blonde—at my side. She’s standing a little too close, but a small part of me wishes I felt something—anything—right now. Enough to have a fraction of interest in her.

  I’ve got nothing.

  “Hi.” Forcing a smile, I try to be cordial because the one thing they drummed into us when I joined the Eastern Sports family is that everyone could be a customer and to act accordingly.

  Meaning: Don’t be a shit show in public.

  Right now, though, I’m considering giving myself a free pass.

  “Thanks for the shot.” I’m trying to channel the old Ry—the one who isn’t head over heels for a woman who’s been led to believe he’s batting for the other team.

  “I’m Serena.” She holds out her hand for me to shake, and as soon as I grasp it, I feel nothing but limpness. There’s no firm handshake from this woman. Unlike Maggie, who has a great, firm business-like handshake.

  “I’m Ry, nice to meet you.” I barely restrain from wiping my palm on my pants after she relinquishes her hold. Barely.

  “So what do you do?”

  She smiles, and I notice her left front tooth is slightly crooked. Which means I’m fixated on it. Terrible but true.

  “I work over at Fifty South Salon.”

  “Oh, cool.”

  That’s all I’ve got. Because I don’t have the faintest clue what working in a salon entails, aside from cutting and coloring hair. I go to the place down the road where an eighty-year-old man cuts my hair old-school barber style. And it costs like ten bucks. Mainly, I go because the old men who go there are the best gossips around. You want to know what’s going down in Saratoga Springs then you need to head over to Marvin’s on the corner of Broadway and Van Dam Street.

  “You have really great hair, Ry.” She reaches up to run her fingers through my hair, and I stiffen because who the hell runs their fingers through someone else’s hair they’ve just met?

  Apparently, women who work at salons. As I’m quickly finding out.

  Trying to back away discreetly, I run a hand through my hair. “Thanks.” My eyes dart around to locate Mike to see if I can quickly close out my tab. Catching his eye, I raise a hand to him, and he nods.

  “You’re leaving so soon?” Serena asks, giving me what I’m sure she thinks is a sexy pout.

  It’s not.

  “I’ve had a rough week, and I’m exhausted. Sorry.” Trying to appear apologetic and not as excited to make my getaway as I actually am,
I thank her again for the shot. “You two ladies have fun tonight. It was nice meeting you.” I pull out my credit card and quickly hand it over to Mike, who’s just approached, hoping to expedite things.

  “Oh.” Her face falls, likely realizing I’m not going to ask her for her number. “You, too.” Turning and walking back to where her friend waits, I shift to see Mike sliding a receipt and a pen across the bar for me. Quickly signing the slip, I pocket my card and thank him.

  Exiting the bar, I’m overwhelmed at the intense melancholy that comes over me. The thought of being in that apartment by myself, waiting for Maggie to come back from her damn date with that Sean guy and wondering if he’ll get lucky enough to kiss her.

  And it’s all my own damn fault. All of this. I’ve created this situation and trapped myself.

  Heaving out a long sigh, I head up the sidewalk. Hands in my pockets, I idly walk past what seems like an overabundance of couples holding hands, enjoying one another’s company on a Friday night.

  Darting a glance in the direction of where Max Londons is, a part of me is dying to head over there to sit at the bar and spy on Maggie. But the more sane part of me realizes how pathetic that idea is, and I know I’d only regret it.

  Instead, I head up in the elevator alone, entering the quiet apartment where photographs of a happy, smiling Maggie greet me. Stepping into my room, I kick off my shoes into the closet and reach up to grab the framed photo sitting on my dresser of Maggie and me from her last birthday.

  Maggie had slid her chair over beside mine, asking Sarah to take a photo of us after I’d given her the photo blanket. Her smile is wide, bright, and so beautiful that it makes my chest tighten. I’d slung my arm around her, and I’m smiling down at her while she grins up at me. It’s one of those moments I wish I could rewind and revisit. It was that incredible.

  Because, at that moment, when she looked up at me, I could see the possibility.

  The possibility of Maggie loving me the way I love her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maggie

  “Tell me the truth.” Sean leans in from where he’s sitting across from me at one of the tiny tables in Max Londons.

  “How is it possible that you’re single?” Eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile, his light blue eyes sparkle. His blond hair is short, parted to the side neatly, and while his nose is slightly crooked, it’s endearing.

  He’s just so freaking nice and adorable. And sweet.

  Wow, I think I’ve just managed to describe a Golden Retriever.

  But really, he’s fun to talk to, and he makes me laugh. Not to mention he’s super cute. And he listens to me. Like, really listens. None of the nodding between glances at my boobs kind of thing.

  The best part? He thinks I’m funny. Yep, Sean thinks I’m funny. Me, Maggie Finegan, dork of the universe. The same person who says in response to someone asking me to remind them of my name, “Call me whatever you want, just don’t call me late for dinner.”

  Yeah, I told you. Dork of the universe, right here.

  The odd thing about tonight is that for a split second, as Sean and I were walking down the sidewalk from Irish Times to head here, I missed Ry. Which is crazy and ridiculous since he’s been consistently clam jamming me. When I came back out from using the restroom and saw Sean standing alone, waiting for me with no sign of Ry around, I felt the tiniest tinge of disappointment.

  Shaking off my thoughts, I force myself back to the present and smile at Sean. “I’m single because I’ve been having a hell of a time finding someone even remotely normal and, well,” I shrug, “not interested in Ry instead.”

  He looks confused. “Interested in Ry?”

  I nod. “Yes. It seems like so many of them end up channeling their inner gay or something.” Shrugging again, I add, “Go figure.”

  Sean continues to stare at me oddly. “Are you saying that Ry’s … gay?”

  There’s a beat of silence as I take in the fact that Sean didn’t realize this. “Yes,” I answer, drawing out the word slowly.

  His head tips to the side. “Huh.” There’s a pause, his brows furrowing. “I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years.”

  Wanting to change the subject, I lean in, mimicking his pose. “So tell me. Why are you single?”

  Smile softening, he glances away briefly before his eyes meet mine again. “I was in a relationship, but it didn’t work out. We tried to do the long-distance thing, and it just kind of … fizzled.”

  “On whose end?” I’m curious to know, and the sangria has made me brazen enough to ask.

  His lips twist a bit into a rueful expression. “Mainly hers. I had my suspicions that she had been interested in a new coworker at her new job. His name started to come up all the time, so …” He trails off.

  “Well,” I chime in, attempting to make him feel less awkward, “if it makes you feel any better, my ex decided to get it on with someone else.” I wait for a beat. “In our bed.”

  Sean winces. “Ouch. Not cool.”

  “Nope, not at all.”

  “So what skeletons are you hiding, Miss Maggie?” His eyes flicker over my face. “Keep your toenail clippings in a jar on your nightstand? Have an odd obsession with Manga?”

  Laughter bubbles out of me. “No, none of that. I’m just a girl, sitting in front of a boy, asking him to …” I tip my head to the side with a sly smile “… please be normal.”

  He throws his head back in laughter, and at that moment, I feel it.

  The potential.

  Things just might work out after all, I think to myself.

  And I ignore that tiny part of me that’s telling me I’m with the wrong guy.

  * * *

  “Well, this is my building.”

  We’re standing on the sidewalk outside my apartment after Sean insisted on walking me home. We stayed at Max Londons until we were nearly kicked out at closing time. We talked the entire night, sharing a variety of appetizers and more than one pitcher of white sangria. Now, standing in the crisp evening air amidst the trees strung with white lights along Broadway Avenue, it’s almost magical.

  Sean gazes down at me. “I had an incredible time tonight, Maggie.” Offering a self-deprecating grin, he adds, softly, “I’m glad I gave it a shot and approached you tonight.”

  “Me, too.” I take a tentative step closer.

  “I’d love to do this again.” He takes a step toward me, closing the remaining distance.

  Tipping my head back slightly to look up at him, I find my eyes tracking him as he leans in toward me, and our lips meet in a sweet, delicate kiss. One of his hands cups the nape of my neck as he brushes his lips across mine before placing one kiss at each corner of my lips, dusting one on the tip of my nose, and then leaning back slightly.

  “Good night, Maggie.” He presses one final kiss to my lips before backing away with a soft smile on his face. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Don’t forget about the two-week wait time until you can start sexting me,” I tease.

  His lips twist into a fake pout. “That rule doesn’t still apply for me, now, does it? Even after I fed you?”

  I flash him a warning look, but my inability to restrain my smile lightens the severity of it. “Hey, buddy. I need more than food and sangria to get me to reconsider the two-week wait time.”

  “Bummer.” He lets out a sigh, grinning wide. “I’ll somehow have to make do for two weeks.”

  “Until next time.” I wave before turning to head inside my building.

  “Maggie?”

  Turning, I find him standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his pants and wearing a sober expression on his face. “I really had a great time tonight.”

  “Me, too.” With one final smile and wave, I enter my building and head to the elevator.

  And the entire ride up to my floor, that smile is still on my face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ry

  “You about ready, Mags?” I holler down
the hall from where I’ve been prepping the living room, getting it ready for our usual Saturday movie night. Setting the large bowl of salted popcorn on the coffee table and pausing to straighten the stack of Architectural Digests upon it, I hear her bedroom door open and her footsteps approaching.

  “Uh, Ry…” She trails off, and I don’t need to turn around to know what she’s about to say next.

  Stiffening, I rise from straightening the magazines, heading into the kitchen to uncork a new bottle of wine.

  God knows I’m going to need it. Because this pinching in my chest? The fact that she likely forgot about our usual Saturday night tradition?

  It hurts. As though someone’s driving a burning stake into my chest.

  “Ry, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—” Her tone is apologetic, but it does nothing to soothe the hurt.

  “Don’t worry about it. I could use a night in by myself.” Still not turning to face her, I concentrate on uncorking the wine.

  “I can ask Sean if we can—” The knock on the door interrupts her. “That’s him now. Let me talk to him real quick, okay?”

  Blowing out a long breath, I face her. “Mags. It’s no biggie. Just go and have fun, okay?”

  Her eyes search mine for a brief moment before turning and rushing down the hall to the door. Pouring my wine—a healthy amount—I try not to give in to the urge to strain to hear what they’re whispering about by the door.

  Just as I’m swirling the wine in my glass, musing about my pathetic existence, Maggie pops back into the kitchen. “So,” she clasps her hands together with an overly energetic smile, “Sean and I decided to forgo our plans, and we can all stay in for movie night! Yay!”

  My eyes flicker past Maggie to meet Sean’s gaze, both of us parroting but with far less enthusiasm, “Yay.”

  * * *