Karen looks positively gleeful at the revelation. “I am so using that the next time he bugs me.” The waitress arrives with our orders. She’s young, about our age, and I notice a paperback book tucked against her hip, under her apron strings. I widen my eyes at Karen, looking between her and the waitress, and she sighs.
“Excuse me,” she asks the woman. “Can I ask…do you enjoy waitressing?”
The woman laughs. “Enjoy? I don’t know about that. But it keeps me on my feet and busy, which I like. And it pays for school.”
“I’m in college too,” Karen says. “Down in Tennessee. What are you studying?”
Finished with arranging our plates in front of us, the woman tucks her tray under her arm. “I’m studying business.”
“Me too,” Karen tells her. “What, uh, what do you want to do when you’re done?”
The woman smiles at her. “Let me guess. You’re almost finished with school, and you have no idea what to do next.”
Karen ducks her head a little. “Pretty much.”
“Well, my parents own this place. And they work themselves to death. Seriously, ever since we moved to this country, this restaurant has been their whole life. So I’m hoping with my degree I can help them run it a little more efficiently. Get the profit margin up so they can relax more.”
“Wow,” Karen says, voice soft. “They must be pretty proud of you.”
The girl shrugs, but she looks happy. “I do my best.” Her attention shifts to someone behind us. “Sorry, my next order is up. Enjoy your lunch. And good luck at school.”
Karen watches her walk away. “Now that girl,” she says, absentmindedly tracing her fingers over the skin on her arm. “She has a purpose.”
I follow the path of her fingers, realizing with a jolt of my stomach that she’s tracing one of her scars. The one I noticed back in my bed in Colorado. The one she asked me not to talk about.
Well, that was Colorado and this is now. And we’re allies now.
“Hey,” I say, reaching forward and stilling her hand. “Are you ever going to tell me about that?”
Her head snaps up to stare at me. She watches my face for a very long time without speaking. Finally she gives me the barest ghost of a smile. “I think I probably will. Someday.”
Then she goes back to her shawarma, and our conversation, as if I never brought the scar up at all. “I think maybe we’re casting our net too broadly,” she says, arranging some of her rice and meat on a pita. “Like, how are seventy-year-old woodworkers going to help me?”
“I think you’re right.” I force myself to stop thinking about the scar. I have a feeling she’ll tell me about it eventually. When she’s ready. “We should probably start with what you actually like.”
Her face brightens. “So we can spend our next free day shopping?”
I laugh. “I was thinking more like… What if I found someone in fashion that you could talk to? Maybe set up some meetings for you.”
Her eyes rake over my old ACDC shirt. “You know people in fashion?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “The band has connections with people in just about every entertainment-related industry you can think of. Fashion designers, personal shoppers, stylists, photographers, makeup artists—that’s just off the top of my head. If any of that sounds cool to you, I’m sure I could arrange some meetings. We’re in New York next week for the album release. There’s no better place to learn about the fashion industry, right?”
“Wow,” she whispers, eyes wide. “Stylists? Like Rachel Zoe?”
“I have no idea who that is. But yeah, the guys work with stylists for just about every photo shoot.”
“I wonder what kind of schooling would be involved in something like that.”
“Don’t think about all the technical details, okay? We’re just getting ideas here.”
She looks like she might argue for a minute, but then her face relaxes and she nods. “You’re right. I would love to meet some people in the fashion industry. That sounds really cool.”
Something about the eager, hopeful look on her face has my stomach swooping in a surprisingly pleasant way. “Great. I’ll make some calls.”
“Thank you, Levi,” Karen says, smiling so brightly, I feel my breath catch.
I quickly turn my attention back to my food, blinking rapidly. I have a feeling I might be on the verge of getting myself in over my head. But I’m not entirely sure I want to do anything to prevent it.
Chapter Fifteen
Karen
Daisy’s voice cuts through the quiet of the cab, making me jump. “Karen, you’re making me nervous. Do you have to keep looking at your phone like that?”
“Sorry. Just checking the time.”
“I know,” she says. “That’s why it’s making me nervous. I feel like I’m late for something.”
I slip my phone back into my purse. “Sorry, Dais.”
“Why are you so concerned with the time, anyhow?” Paige asks. “You don’t have any work to do tonight.”
Truth be told, I’ve barely had any work to do all week, pretty much since we got to New York. The album hit the stores on Tuesday, and the guys have gone full steam into promo mode. They’ve been making the rounds of TV shows, radio spots, interviews, and public appearances since we got to town. Not many opportunities for selling merchandise in all of that.
“I have plans,” I say vaguely, hoping Levi isn’t getting too annoyed. I was supposed to meet him ten minutes ago, and we’re still stuck in this cab, blocks from the hotel.
“Aw,” Daisy says, nudging my shoulder. “Plans with a special someone?”
I’m not sure if she can see well in the darkness of the cab, so I make sure to roll my eyes extra hard.
“It’s sweet,” she says. “I’m not teasing, honest. I’m all about Team Kevi.”
“Oh dear God,” I mutter, turning to stare out the window. Because I was feeling a little bad about spending the week in New York without pulling my own weight, I accompanied Daisy and Paige to the record label’s offices, where we spent the afternoon stamping signatures on photographs of the boys and stuffing them in envelopes. We were supposed to grab a quick dinner after, leaving me plenty of time to meet Levi on time. But of course, quick anything isn’t really in Paige’s vocabulary. And now that Daisy is even more obsessed with food than I am, dinner took a lot longer than planned.
“I’m Team Kevi too,” Paige says happily. “I think Team Kevi is like, the best thing ever.”
“You guys,” I moan. “Please stop. We’re not that big of a deal yet.” Or ever, I think to myself. “We’re just having fun for now.”
“I still think it’s great,” Daisy argues. “Levi is one of my favorite people in the world. I hate what’s been happening with him the last few years. He deserves to have some fun.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter without thinking. “You didn’t even see the lodge. Talk about depressing.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize what I said and freeze. In the dark, I can just make out Paige’s face morphing from her normal happy expression to confusion. “What lodge?”
Shit. “Um, where he was working. You know. Before this. Super depressing, from the little he’s told me.”
Paige is watching me with an incredulous expression. “Is this the same lodge you went to for New Years with the girls?”
Double shit. Letting her think Levi and I are more than friends is one thing. Straight-up lying to her face is another. And it’s pretty obvious from the look on her face that she wouldn’t believe me anyhow. “Yes. I ran into him.”
Paige is silent for what feels like ages. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry,” I say immediately, hating the vibes of bewildered hurt pouring off of her. “He didn’t want anyone to know where he was.”
“But…but it was me.”
“I know, Paige. I… He was really defensive about it. It was like he was ashamed of being there. I just couldn’t go
ssip about it. I’m sorry.”
“I wouldn’t have gossiped,” she said, sounding even more hurt.
“Yeah, but you would have told Reed. You tell Reed everything.”
“I do not!”
I glare at her. “How long did it take you to tell him about me and Levi after you saw us in the office? After I asked you not to?”
Even in the dark, I can see her face redden. A flicker of annoyance sparks in my chest. For all of her talk about our relationship being the same as always, this right here is proof that it’s not. She goes to Reed first. She tells him everything, even my own secrets.
“I don’t want to fight,” I mutter, looking away.
“I don’t, either.” She sounds close to tears, and I squeeze my hands into fists. I hate upsetting her, and I hate that my first reaction is always to make things okay for her, even if I’m upset or hurt myself.
The last five minutes of our taxi ride pass in tense silence. I’m so relieved when we get to the hotel that I could kiss the driver.
Out on the sidewalk, Paige catches my arm, then turns to Daisy, “Can I catch up with you later, Dais?” Daisy looks at both of us, clearly worried, but nods and heads inside.
“I’m sorry,” Paige says, still sounding like she might cry. “I shouldn’t have told Reed what I saw. I was just so happy about it, you know I have a terrible poker face. He knew something was up.”
“I know. I’m not mad.” A little hurt, but not mad. Scared that I’m losing the most important relationship in my life, but not mad.
“You seem mad.”
“Paige, I just… This is hard for me, okay?”
“What is?”
I wave my hands toward the opulent hotel. “Our lives are going in different directions. And it’s a lot to take in.”
“They’re not!” she cries, tears in her eyes now.
“Paige, they are. Of course they are. You’re with a major rock star now. You’re going to tour the world with him. We’re on different trajectories. And that’s okay.” Even if it doesn’t feel okay. “But sometimes, there might be things I can’t talk to you about. That’s all.”
“Well, that’s not okay with me!” she cries, reaching for my arms. “We talk about everything!”
I think about all the things I’ve kept from her in the last year, and a trickle of nausea rushes through me. “Sometimes, you’ll just have to accept that we talk about most things. Because there might be parts of my life—or Levi’s life—that I’m not comfortable sharing with Reed or the rest of the Ransomes. I’m sorry.”
“I won’t tell him anything else,” she says. “I promise—”
“Sweetie, he’s your guy. Of course you’re going to tell him things. It’s how it is.” In my purse, my phone rings. Levi. “I have to go, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, sounding miserable.
“Are you all right? Will you go hang out with Daisy or something?”
She nods, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m fine. Go have fun with Levi.”
I rub her arm once, wishing there was a way to make her feel better, before I turn to go. Part of me wants to take it back, to promise her that nothing has changed. But I’ve told her enough lies without adding to them.
I find Levi kneeling in front of the coffee table in his room, a stack of papers in front of him. “Hey!” he says when I use my key to enter the room. “I just called you.”
“Sorry I’m late.” I shake my head as I drop my purse on the table by the door. “Paige.”
“Say no more,” he laughs. “So, you ready to get started?”
“I could use a drink first.”
He frowns as I head to the minibar, pulling out a small bottle of vodka. “Vodka? Man, must have been some dinner.”
I rummage in the fridge until I find a bottle of juice. “You want one?” I don’t wait for his answer before I start to fix us each a drink. I add a few ice cubes from the bucket on the counter then take the drinks over to the couch, handing him his. “Cheers.”
Levi takes a sip. Was that a shudder? I guess I was a little heavy handed with the vodka. “So.” He’s watching my face. “Want to talk about it?”
I consider telling him about the conversation, about the fear that’s been growing in my chest that everything is changing. Levi would understand. Levi is great at listening.
In fact, he spends half his time with me listening. Sometimes, it seems like all we do is talk. About Dan and Cash and Daisy and Daltrey. About Paige. Our careers and our fears and all the different ways we feel left out and lonely and lost. Is there a limit to the self-pity two people can heap on each other?
I look at the papers on the table and realize that there are lots of other supplies there too. Stickers and glue and brightly colored scissors with decorative edges. I grin.
“Actually, I don’t feel like talking at all. I feel like forgetting about the last half hour and carrying on with our plans.”
Levi rubs his hands together. “I can totally deal with that.”
I kneel next to him at the coffee table and grab the stack of papers, shuffling through them until I find a few colors that I like. Levi is mulling over the stickers with a concentration he normally saves for tuning Cash’s guitar.
“So how did it go before the dinner we’re not talking about?” he asks. “How was the meeting this morning?”
“It was really interesting but not super inspiring.” I settle on purples and blacks for my color choices and hand him the paper.
“Not inspiring? You think fashion design isn’t for you?”
“Well to start, the girl’s name was Vespera, which was a little hard to take seriously, you know? And she works about fifteen hours a day.” I hold out my hands. “You should have seen the tips of her fingers. All calloused and bleeding from all that sewing.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. But that’s not really what turned me off. She showed me a bunch of her sketches and how she brings them to life and…” I look up at him. “I don’t understand how you can imagine something like that and then make it, you know?”
“That’s what I was thinking when we saw the Roman statues at the Met this week. It seems crazy to me that people can not only visualize something like that but then bring it to life.”
“Exactly. I just don’t have that kind of creativity.”
He nods. “I get it. So fashion design is not for you.”
“I’m thinking no.”
Levi pulls a little black notebook from his pocket and makes a note in it. “So the buyer you talked to and the stylists are still the ones that you felt most interested in?”
“Yup. So far.”
He scans the sheet of paper that contains all of our notes for Project Get Karen a Clue—he managed to come up with a snappier name, after all. “Did you do the rest of your homework?”
“I read the book by that Buddhist guy. It was, uh, a little over my head.”
He smirks. “I had my doubts when you picked it. What about the other one, that self-help one?”
I shrug. “It was okay. Not mind blowing. It was all about building up your confidence, which I’m told I already have in spades.”
He narrows his eyes over the notebook. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re totally confident around guys and in social settings. But do you really think you have a lot of confidence in your abilities?”
“I think you should go back to your stickers.”
He gives me a brief grin before returning to the chart. “Did you get a chance to work on the hobbies?”
“Oh, yeah. Knitting is definitely not for me. Like, at all. My hands are all backwards. Photography has been pretty fun so far. I’m thinking about trying a fancy camera.”
“Sweet!” He looks honestly excited for me. “I bet someone from the PR team at the label could lend you one if you wanted to practice before you buy.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow.”
I look at the
chart in his hands, the meticulous work he’s put into organizing our efforts.
“I used to do this for Paige,” I say without thinking.
“What? Help her figure out her goals?”
I feel a little silly for bringing it up. “No. The lists and stuff. Charts and schedules. She always had such a hard time with focusing, ever since we were kids. It really helped her when I laid it all out in black and white.” I think of all the silly things I had committed to paper or the white board in our dorm room over the years, from a schedule to determine who did the dishes and when to a plan to help us get over any break up.
“You said used to.”
I nod, looking away. “She’s a lot more focused lately. I think the last schedule we made was to help her get over Reed when things weren’t looking so good.” I shrug. “She hasn’t really needed it ever since. Which is totally a good thing. I mean, she’s more together now. I’m happy about it.” I hear myself babbling and snap my teeth together.
But Levi, of course, knows exactly what I’m trying to say. “But you miss it. Because it didn’t just help her, it helped you too.”
I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t want him to see how close I am to crying. “Yeah.”
“And it means things have changed. She doesn’t need you as much as she used to.”
I wipe furiously at my itchy eyes, not answering. When Levi speaks again, his voice is soft. “Is that what you guys argued about tonight?”
“Pretty much.”
I kind of wish he would hug me, which is silly, because I know it would just make me cry. And I’ve never been someone who needed to be babied over my feelings.
“Well,” he says after a minute. “I’m really glad we’re making a chart for our project then.” He reaches over and nudges my chin so that I’ll look up at him. His familiar face is smiling, and I know that Levi gets it—whatever this feeling is. “Sometimes a person just needs a chart, right?”
I nod, laughing, glad he didn’t hug me, after all.
“Now,” he says seriously. “There’s another box on this list I haven’t checked yet.” He gestures at the art supplies in front of us. “We’re supposed to be trying to scrapbook, right? That’s what’s next on our list.”
Relent Page 17
