Rebound With Me

by Kayley Loring

  I force a laugh. “Um, he’s not the bartender, he’s just making me a drink.”

  “I think you’d be better off getting a drink with me, somewhere else,” Mark says.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Vince slams down the bottle he was holding and starts out around the bar.

  I hurry around to block this guy from Vince, and pull him, with all my might, away and out of the room.

  “I wasn’t gonna hit him,” he says.

  “I’d just like to talk to you outside please.”

  I lead him through the lounge and to the front doors, without looking back at him.

  I can control a room full of six year-olds, I should be able to get one twenty-eight year-old man to behave himself. Here’s how it is, here are the rules. Rules bind our anxiety so we don’t have to worry about what we should be doing. I learned that while I was getting my degree. And while I was dating Russell.

  I let go of his hand when we’re on the sidewalk. No one else is around. I put my hands on my hips. Vince looks defiant, but also a tiny bit ashamed.

  “You can’t talk to people like that. Isn’t everyone a potential client for you?”

  “We have a strict no douchebag client policy.”

  “Well it makes me uncomfortable when you talk to someone like that just because he was talking to me.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were so into him.”

  “Vince. I was not into him. I’m here with you. I’m not going to ignore men who talk to me, especially when I have no idea if they know you or not, but I have no interest in getting to know them. You can trust me.”

  “I do trust you, it’s that guy that I don’t trust.”

  “Well, I can’t make you trust someone, but please try not to let your feathers get ruffled. This is our first time out on a real date and I’d prefer it if there were no bloodshed.”

  He looks at me like I’ve been speaking a foreign language, and then a smile spreads across his face and he lowers his head, laughing. “’Try not to let your feathers get ruffled?’ What are you—ninety?”

  “Well now you’re just trying to ruffle my feathers,” I say, putting up my dukes.

  He grabs my hands and pulls my arms around his waist. “Baby, I want to ruffle your feathers until you’re too exhausted to fly away.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Is there anyone else whose feathers you want to ruffle any time soon?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Well, we’re on the same page, then. You asked me to give you the summer. How about we officially agree that we will only be with each other this summer? To eliminate anxiety.”

  His face gets so serious, and I almost regret my approach. “What if I still want you when the summer’s over?”

  It’s difficult to get your facial muscles to form a smile when you’re completely melting on the sidewalk, but somehow I manage. “We can revisit this issue in September.”

  “Plan on it. Deal.” He puts his hands on my face and kisses my mouth. “I’m all yours this summer.”

  “I’m all yours this summer.”

  Even under the dim streetlight, I can see that his eyes are sparkling. “You are something else.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Thank you. I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow morning, cuz I’m gonna take you to brunch.”

  “Really?! I love brunch!”

  “I had a feeling.”

  “Shall we go back to the party now?”

  He cranes his neck, looks around over my shoulder. “There’s an alley over there. I could ruffle your feathers a little more first.”

  I spank his perfect butt. “Back to the party, sir. That will have to wait until we’re back at your place.”

  He groans and takes my hand as we head back to the front door of the bar. “You’re mean, Miss Parks.”

  “It’s for your own good,” I say, and then lean in to whisper in his ear: “Trust me, you’re going to want to see me in the bonkers lingerie I have in my purse.” Words I have certainly never uttered before in my life.

  I hold up my tiny purse and he stops in his tracks, pulls out his phone and opens up his Uber app. I take his phone away from him. “No we have to say goodbye to everyone first.”

  “You are slowly killing me, Miss Parks.”

  As we make our way through the front of the bar, I notice a young woman who’s watching us. Vince doesn’t see her. In one second her facial expression reveals so many things when she watches Vince—lust, hope, anger, bitterness, wistfulness. I know in the pit of my stomach that she has probably slept with him, and because she doesn’t approach him, he probably hasn’t seen her since.

  Finally, after he has passed by her, she calls out: “Vince.”

  He looks back at her, still holding my hand, and I see no hint in his face that seeing her causes him to feel any emotions at all. “Oh hey, good to see you. Have a good night.” Polite, pleasant, and not at all personal. He puts his arm around me and we retreat into the private room. I don’t look back to see the woman’s reaction, but I know how I would feel if I were in her shoes. I try not to think about whether or not I will be in her shoes, or when. For now, I believe him when he tells me he’s mine. All I have to do is get through the summer without losing my mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nina

  Almost overnight, I suddenly have the kind of summer schedule that I’d dreamed of having before I moved to Brooklyn and got caught up in Russell’s regimented weekends of foodie adventures, jazz concerts and antiquing.

  I finally saw Hamilton on Broadway. Who lives in New York for three years without managing to see Hamilton?! It was just as electrifying as meeting Vince, and I leave both feeling young and super-charged and ready for anything.

  When I was with Russell, I must have given off a “Don’t look at me don’t talk to me vibe,” because I swear—men never used to check me out when I walked around town. They never used to strike up conversations with me on line at the market. Ironically, now is when I’m totally uninterested in getting to know another man, but I feel so open. And it’s all because of Vince Devlin.

  This is, without a doubt, the best summer I have had since moving to Brooklyn. It’s the best summer of my life, if I’m being honest. I almost don’t even think about what it will be like once school starts up again and I’m asleep by ten pm, using faux swear words again, and seeing my fucking ex-fiancé five days a week. For now, I am more awake, and busier than ever, ignoring every lingering ghost thought of Russell and Sadie while staying focused on Vince. He has showed me so much of Brooklyn, usually on the fly in the middle of the day, between his meetings, when I’m not hanging out with Marnie or my other teacher friends.

  He’ll just call me up and be like: “You like to doodle, right? You been to the Brooklyn Art Library? I’ll meet you there in half an hour.” And then we’ll spend an hour looking through an amazing collection of artists’ sketchbooks. When we’re walking to get ice cream in Greenpoint, he’s like: “Hey, you like cats?” and we take a little detour to see the Cat Village—a colony of feral cats that keep the local rodent population in check. At night, I’ll get a call after his last meeting: “Hey, you feel like going out to hear some music? A buddy of mine’s performing tonight.” And then he’ll take me to the Brooklyn Academy of Music to see his buddy perform.

  Anything can happen when I’m with him, and so far there have been no more incidents when other men are friendly to me. Like the Italian waiter at this cozy neighborhood joint where we’re getting lunch in the back garden. Vince even seems amused by the ostentatious way this fellow is flirting with me. After we order, I pull out a book from my bag and place it on the table in front of him.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a little gift. I was browsing the bookstore this morning, and I wanted you to have a copy of this. It’s one of my favorite poetry books.”

  He has such a big smile on his face as he picks it up. “No
body’s ever given me a book as a gift before. I mean, since I was a kid.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Thank you. I will read every word. I have something for you too, actually, in the trunk of my car. Which is at my Dad’s place. I’ll give it to you tonight. Who’s Rumi?”

  “Rumi was a thirteenth century mystic poet who is one of the most popular poets in America, actually. He wrote so beautifully about love and longing and opening your heart to all of life’s experiences, even the painful ones. It got me through a lot, back in Bloomington. It’s just beautiful, and…when I read a lot of these now, they remind me of you.” I can’t look up at him to see his expression. I’ve laid out so much more on the table than just that book. I laugh. “Before you, my biggest form of rebellion was reading Rumi poems when my Dad was teaching classes on Chaucer and Shakespeare’s sonnets.”

  “You really still think you’re rebelling by being with me?” He is amused more than offended, but it’s definitely both.

  “Well no, I mean…I just…I had never had a one-night stand with a stranger before.”

  “Uh huh, well it doesn’t really count as a one-night stand anymore now does it?”

  “No. And I’m glad. But, you were still a stranger.”

  “Everyone’s a stranger at first, Nina.”

  “Were you on the debate team in high school?”

  “No, but I did go to third base with one of the girls on the debate team after giving a very compelling argument about why she should let me.” I burst out laughing. He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it. “I love that you gave me this. Thank you.” He puts it in his leather messenger bag, then reaches back for my hand. “Listen, I can’t go out tonight, but—”

  “That’s fine.”

  “But—maybe you’d like to join us for dinner at my Dad’s place. They’ve been bugging me about wanting to see you again. It’s Taco Tuesday at Casa Devlin. But if my Dad forgot to get the ingredients again it’s Tater Tot Tuesday plus like, one vegetable maybe.”

  “I’d love that. That sounds like fun.”

  “Oh yeah. It’s like a Fast and Furious movie, but with mediocre tacos and no cars. We can pick up Charlie at his day camp here in Carroll Gardens and then head over to Cobble Hill. His nanny gets off early today.”

  “Oh, I get to meet Charlie?” This feels significant. Charlie seems like such an important person in Vince’s life and I could tell he was waiting before talking about him more, or introducing me to him. Probably because of the nanny-banging thing too.

  “Yeah. It’s time you met the little turd.”

  “Is he at the day camp on Smith Street?”

  “Yeah, you know it?”

  “Of course, it’s a great program. Some of my friends teach at summer day camps. I was considering it for this year.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re free to hang with me.”

  “Yeah that worked out pretty well. Can you tell me about Charlie’s mother? So I don’t say the wrong thing in front of your family.”

  “Well, she’s out of the picture. Has been since she ran off with some millionaire Greek guy two years ago.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Clara. She and my Dad never got married. But they were together for seven years, even though she was a piece of work from day one. She had a few good qualities, I mean, she wasn’t all terrible. Except for the fact that she just up and left her six year-old son with barely any explanation.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “It was bad. But you know. My dad and brother and I were already working together at the brokerage, so we just started working together more on taking care of Charlie. He’s such a good kid. Breaks my heart. But he’s pretty tough. He’s definitely the smartest of all of us Devlin guys.”

  Hearing Vince talk about his little brother like this is making my ovaries ache. I so want to ask him about his own mother, but it doesn’t seem like the right time. He has pulled out his phone to check his texts and emails. We’ve accomplished enough for one lunch already.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nina

  From a block away, I know which boy is Charlie without Vince having to point him out to me. Dark hair, sweet magnetic face and energy, sad eyes. He’s got his backpack slung over one little shoulder and a book in one hand while he looks around, kicking the sidewalk with the toe of his Chuck Taylors, pretending to ignore the kids around him who aren’t talking to him. When he spots us coming towards us, he looks happy to see Vince, but confused seeing him with me. He waits for us to reach him, studying me the way I’ve been studied by all of the Devlin males I’ve met so far.

  Definitely a Ponyboy.

  “Hey buddy, you ready to go?” Vince lets go of my hand and goes over to the other side of Charlie so that we’re both flanking him as we continue down the sidewalk.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is my friend Nina. Remember I told you about her?”

  Charlie looks up at me, unsmiling. “Hey.”

  “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Charlie. You have a good day at camp?”

  “It was alright.”

  “Nina’s coming to have dinner with us tonight.”

  “Did Dad remember to get all the taco stuff?”

  “I hope so, I sent him a text to remind him.”

  Charlie looks at me while we walk, then looks over at his brother and says: “You’re the girl Vince is boning now?” He is grinning.

  I blurt out a laugh, but Vince looks horrified. “Hey! He learned that from Gabe, not me.” He playfully smacks him on the back of his head. “We don’t talk to women like that, kid.”

  I nod towards the book in his hand, changing the subject. “You’re reading Matilda? I loved that book when I was your age.”

  He shrugs. “A girl gave it to me today. I haven’t read it yet.”

  “Wow,” I say, looking at Vince. “When a girl gives you a book that means she really likes you.” With one sentence, I manage to make both Devlins blush at the same time. It’s a tiny victory.

  Charlie growls and raises his fists up. “Grrrr! She’s not my girlfriend!” He jumps around, having the kind of sudden spaz attack that I’m very used to from little boys. So much energy. “I. Don’t. Like. Girls!” He suddenly takes off running like a maniac.

  “Oy! No running—get back here!” Vince’s voice is loud and dominant.

  Charlie kicks his leg up in the air mid-run while squealing, and I know before his feet hit the ground that he’s going to land all wrong. He stumbles and wipes out, hands first, but he manages to hang onto the book (which tells me a lot).

  “Shit,” Vince says under his breath. I see the look of panic in his eyes, but he tries not to speed up his pace to panic or embarrass Charlie.

  When we reach him, Charlie is slouched over and trying very hard to look tough, but his hand and knuckles are scraped and bleeding and the rims around his eyes are red.

  “You okay? You’re okay, right? You little spaz. Can you get up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Actually, I think I might have something in my purse that’ll clean up that scrape.” I kneel down on the cement beside him and open up my giant day bag, pulling out the container of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I made this afternoon, and placing it on the ground. “It’s important to clean up these little scrapes as soon as possible. I know because I have to do it a lot.”

  “You fall down a lot?” Charlie’s voice is constricted, but he’s still teasing me.

  “Nina’s a first grade teacher.”

  “I am, so I’m around a lot of boys who wipe out, but it happens to me when I play kickball with them too.”

  Charlie snort-laughs. I pull out around twenty baggies with different daily necessities in them—sugar-free gummy bears, make-up, sparkly gel colored pens, cotton balls, bandages. I find my little bottle of Bactine near the bottom of my purse.

  “What else you got in there, Miss Parks?” Vince knows I’ve been keeping a slender cosmetics bag full of condoms
in here lately.

  “No bags of frozen peas, unfortunately.”

  As I clean up Charlie’s hands with Bactine, and he hisses because of the minor sting, I ask him: “What’s the worst time you ever wiped out?”

  “On my bike.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oooh, that was ugly. Right into a tree. Didn’t break anything though, you were lucky.”

  “We were with Sadie,” Charlie says, wistfully.

  Vince goes silent.

  “Yeah? The worst time I wiped out was on a bike too, when I was ten. I was going down a hill really fast and the front wheel hit a big branch and I went flying.”

  “Whoah. Did you bleed?”

  “Oh yeah. It wasn’t that bad though. Had to get a few stitches. You ever had stitches?”

  “No.”

  “You are lucky, then. Stitches is when a doctor sews up your skin so it grows back together.”

  I put the last bandage on Charlie’s hand. “Gross! With a needle?”

  “Yup. With a needle and this bright blue kind of thread.”

  “Can I see?”

  “Nope—I don’t have them anymore. See?” I hold up my palm to show him where the stitches were. “The thread they use just kind of disappears eventually. They like melt into your skin or something.”

  “No way.”

  “Yeah way. You ready to get up?”

  He nods and gets up, still holding his Roald Dahl book. I toss everything back into my bag.

  “Can I have a cookie?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, looking up at his big brother. “Can he?”

  “Just one, but only if I can have one too.”

  I open the container and hand out two cookies, then put the container back in my bag. Vince takes a bite before holding out his hand to help me up. “Mmmm! That’s so good. Right, Charlie?”

  “I like it.”

  “All the boys in your class must be so in love with you, Miss Parks,” he whispers into my ear as I’m standing.

  “I do get a lot of shiny apples on my desk.”

  “I’d give you a banana.”