by Claire Adams
“Yes,” she said, but then she didn’t say anything else, she just stood there, watching me. Was she waiting for me to give her permission to go?
“Well, thanks,” I said. “It’s been working out pretty well so far—”
“I saw the way you’ve been looking at me ever since I started,” Lynn said, closing the distance between us and pressing up against me. “I normally wouldn’t do this sort of thing, but you are probably the finest man that I ever laid eyes on.” She gave me a coy look. “And Jonathan told me that you’re not seeing anyone, and that in the past you haven’t been against a little office hanky panky.”
I cringed, feeling like a trapped animal. Her tits literally had me pinned against the wall. At another time, something like this might’ve been the stuff of fantasies, but I felt nothing, other than a growing sense of claustrophobia.
“Lynn,” I said, holding my hands up like she was a cop telling me to keep my hands in the air where she could see them. “Look. I think you got the wrong idea.”
“I’m seldom wrong about these things,” she said. “I can tell when a guy looks at me and he wants to fuck. I’ve got this sixth sense about it. I know I’m probably not as pretty as some of the other women that you’ve had work for you, but trust me, I will blow your fucking mind.”
She leaned in, like she was going to kiss me. I jerked my head back, hitting it against the wall, craning my neck, a drowning man getting his last breath before he sunk below the surface of the water.
“Really,” I said. “I’m not . . . I’m just not ready for this sort of thing, actually.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not ready?” Her hand went to my crotch, and I had the very odd, first-time feeling of being violated. But there was nothing there for her to grab; nothing hard that she could hold onto, anyway.
“Oh,” she said. She looked back up at me. “I see.” She stepped back, those enormous tits of hers finally releasing me. “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. “Shit, I’m really sorry. That must seem incredibly unprofessional.”
I straightened my shirt back out. “No, it’s fine,” I said. “Just don’t let it happen again. We don’t actually ever have to mention it, okay?”
“That’s fine by me. I should probably get going, anyway. I’m really sorry I was so forward.”
She hurried out, leaving me standing there, wondering if I had just imagined that whole thing to begin with.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Daisy
There was another birthday down at Failte, and this time, it turned out to be Billy McAllister’s. I hadn’t realized that when I walked through the door because he wasn’t having a big celebration that would eventually overtake the whole bar; rather, it was just him and an older man and a woman who, after giving me a big hug, he introduced to me as his parents.
“It’s my birthday,” Billy said. “And my parents wanted to take me out, and I thought what better place to come to than my favorite bar in the world, especially if there was the chance of running into you. Sit, join us.”
“That would be lovely,” his mother said, smiling. “Billy’s told us a lot about you.”
“He has?”
“Well, just that I happened to meet one of the nicest, funniest girls I think I’ve ever met before,” Billy said. He paused. “And that I hoped she wouldn’t turn me down when I asked her if she’d like to go out with me.” He grinned.
There were a couple of ways I could play this. I could agree to go out with him, because he was nice and we did get along, and I knew that would make him happy, but I knew I would never like him the same way he liked me. Or, I could tell him no, that I wasn’t interested in dating anyone right now, yet that would leave the door open to some time in the future. “I’m actually seeing someone,” I said. I knew that pretending that Ian and I were still together was not going to help me get over him any faster, but I also didn’t want Billy to start thinking that I was available. Part of me thought that it was presumptive to even be thinking that, but then I kept thinking to what Caroline had said about him wanting to take me to his parents’ summer house. If I could avoid that whole conversation altogether, it would be a good thing. What sucked was that I actually did enjoy hanging out with Billy, and getting to go with him to his parents’ summer house would probably be a lot of fun—if it was understood that it was a friends-only sort of thing.
“You are?” Billy said, his gaze going from me to his father. “You’re seeing someone?”
“Yes,” I said. I saw Billy look at his dad again, and then his dad and his mother exchanged looks. I was getting a weird feeling, all of a sudden, like there was something going on that everyone but me was privy to. I looked at Billy. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear.”
“Oh,” his mother said after a moment had passed and Billy didn’t say anything. “We were under the impression that you were single.”
“I’m not quite sure what gave you that impression,” I said. “I don’t remember us talking about this before or anything.”
“Well . . .” Billy glanced at his father, who was looking at me closely, as though he were trying to detect whether or not I was lying about seeing someone. I didn’t care, though, if he had the world’s greatest bullshit detector and he knew that I wasn’t telling the truth. “I see. I didn’t realize that—”
“It’s not Ian Roubideaux, is it?” his father asked.
Inwardly, I flinched at the sound of his name, but I tried to keep my composure. “Yes,” I said. “It is.”
His father gave me a gentle smile. “Last I heard of it, Ian wasn’t involved with anyone. Or maybe it was that he was involved with several someones. He’s that kind of guy, you know. Man about town.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him,” I said stiffly.
“Of course I know him; he technically works for me.”
“He owns his own business. He doesn’t work for you.”
Billy’s father smiled. “Let me rephrase that: I am one of his biggest clients.”
“So that means you know about his love life?”
“I know about a lot of things. Something else I know is that my son is a good man and—”
“Dad,” Billy said, a mortified expression on his face. “I thought you told me that you had talked to him—”
“Ian?” I interrupted. “Are you saying you got your dad to talk to Ian?” The realization hit me—and of course, it was so obvious now. That had been the impetus for Ian’s sudden decision that we just stop seeing each other. I knew there had to be something more, that I wasn’t getting the whole story.
“Daisy,” Billy said, turning to me, “I’m sorry, I know it probably seems really weird that my father would talk to Ian.”
I stared at him. “Um, yeah, that’s putting it mildly.”
“We’ve known Ian a while,” he continued, as though that somehow made it okay. “He and I went to school together.”
“Yeah, I think he might have mentioned that. But what does that have to do with the fact that you got your father to talk to with Ian, and basically made him break up with me?”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were together,” Billy said. “I mean, he had mentioned that you guys were sort of seeing each other, but . . . well . . . knowing Ian, and his past . . . he’s always seeing someone. Or that’s how he used to be anyway.”
“I see. So you figured I was just another disposable name on Ian’s list.” It occurred to me as I said it that I thought I had been too, for a little while, but I knew that wasn’t really the case. “And I know Ian,” I said. “Why would he just do what you told him to? That doesn’t even make any sense. He’s not the type of person that you can just tell him what to do and he’ll go along with it.”
“You’re right,” Billy’s father said. “He’s really not. That’s something that I’ve respected about him all these years, too. But . . . there are a few things one could say to him that he’d have reason to go along with.”
“Do you really want to get into this? It’s all water under the bridge now.”
“No, it’s not, because whatever it was you talked to him about directly affected me. So it’s not just ‘water under the bridge now’ or whatever it is you want to call it.”
“Perhaps this isn’t the time or the place for this,” Billy’s mother said.
“I don’t think it’s ever the time or place to have your parents interfere with something like this.” I could feel my anger rising, my voice getting louder; I didn’t care. Who the hell did these people think they were? Why did they think for a second that it would be okay? “You know what? You don’t have to tell me what you said to Ian—I’m sure it was something vile. Or it was probably a lie. Or some combination of the two. But now let me tell you something. I am not interested in dating your son.”
The air seemed to hang heavily between us. Billy’s mother blinked like she couldn’t believe that someone was actually saying this about her son. His father’s expression was harder to read, though it might have been bordering on one of amusement. Billy, I could only see out of the corner of my eye, and his head was in his hands.
“It’s not that I don’t think he’s very nice—because I do,” I said, wanting to backpedal a little, but not enough so they’d get the wrong idea. “He seems very nice, and we actually get along quite well, but I will never date him. And would you like to know why?”
“No, it’s really okay,” Billy said, picking his head up. “It’d be great if we actually just terminated this entire conversation. Is that possible? Can we do that? Or should I just get up and leave?”
His mother reached out and patted his hand. “Sweetie, it’s your birthday,” she said. “I want this to be a happy celebration.”
He grimaced. “Well, there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen.” He looked at me. “Daisy, I’m really sorry. I think I got the wrong idea, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. I think you’re really great—I’ve got no shame in admitting that. And if you wanted to date me, I’d be thrilled. But if it’s just a friend thing for you, that’s cool. I’m fine with that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pressured into anything.”
“That’s good,” I said. “I’m glad to hear you feel that way, even if it seems that your parents don’t. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but there is no way in hell I am going to date you. I realize that sounds pretty harsh, but I think that’s required in this sort of situation.”
I was looking at Billy’s dad as I said this though, and he was just sitting there like he couldn’t be more amused. Is that all he thought this was? Did he think this was funny?
“I can see that you mean business,” he said finally. He held up his hands. “I apologize if it seems that any boundaries were crossed. That wasn’t my intention.”
“Just because it wasn’t your intention doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” I said. “But I do mean exactly what I’m saying, and that is that regardless of whether Ian and I end up back together or not; I’m not dating your son. You don’t get to make that choice for me.”
Billy’s dad nodded. “I can see that you mean it,” he said. “I won’t interfere.”
“And I don’t know what exactly the terms of all this were with Ian, but he certainly doesn’t seem like the type of person who just goes and does something because someone asked him to. So whether you were going to take your business elsewhere or do something to him, may I suggest that you don’t do that.”
“Or what?” Billy’s father asked. “What sorts of repercussions will be facing if we do?”
“Seamus.” Billy’s mom shook her head. She looked at me. “We’re sorry,” she said. “Truly. Billy’s father and I have been hoping he’d find a girl and settle down soon, and we were delighted when your name started coming up because it seemed like he’d really taken an interest in you. But obviously we don’t want to force anyone to do anything, and we want everyone to be happy. So please accept our apologies about this whole . . . misunderstanding. It certainly was not our intention.”
“Um, yeah. Well, I better get going. I’m sorry if this ruined your birthday.”
I left, wondering if that whole interaction had just been one bizarre dream. So many completely implausible things seemed to have happened to me lately that it wouldn’t have surprised me at all if I had woken up to find myself still employed at the salon, Ian just a figment of my (obviously) twisted imagination.
I felt agitated, and I didn’t know what to do with that. Part of me wanted to call Ian, wanted to go find him, throw myself into his arms again. Tell him I knew why he’d said what he did, and that he didn’t have to do what Seamus said.
But instead of calling Ian, I called Carl. Whether he was aware of it or not, he had really helped me when I had talked to him for the research he was doing for his book, and I was hopeful that maybe he could help me again, though I wasn’t exactly sure what that help would look like.
“It’s good to see you again, Daisy,” he said.
“Thanks for meeting with me. I know it was short notice.”
“Of course. So what is it that you wanted to talk about? You sounded a little frazzled when you called.”
“Well . . . a lot has happened since I last talked to you, yet somehow, I basically find myself in the same position that I was in before. Which seems odd because of all that has happened. And I just really don’t know how to process it. You know that guy that I said I felt like I was meant to be with? We ended up getting back together after that, because I was trusting my feelings, you know, like you had said. And it was great. Really, really great. For a very short time, I felt as though things were actually working out how they should be. I didn’t feel so . . . lost. Which I guess sounds kind of stupid now, but it’s the truth.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Carl said. “So what happened?”
“What happened is the guy—Ian—suddenly told me he couldn’t see me anymore. It made no sense because we’d only just gotten back together, and things were great, and then out of the blue, he says this. Something didn’t seem right about it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And then this other guy that I’m kind of friendly with who is a client of Ian’s, he’s interested in me, I guess. And his father basically told Ian to back off so his son could have a chance.”
“Really,” Carl said. “That must’ve been a surprise to you.”
“It was. I mean, I don’t know exactly how old he is, but I think he’s closer to Ian’s age, so that makes him in his early thirties. And to have your father getting involved like that seems sort of . . . weird.”
“Intrusive.”
“Exactly.”
“Desire is an interesting thing,” Carl said. “It’s closely intertwined with both pleasure and pain, and unchecked desire can morph into craving, into obsession. I think most people would say they want to be desired, but then you also run the risk of it going too far, which can be problematic.”
“Is that what this is all about?” I asked. “Desire?”
“Desire is the driving force behind a lot of things, not just romantic ones. I think what you need to do is figure out what it is that you desire. It seems you’ve been a rather passive participant in a lot of what has happened so far. My best advice would be to think about what it is that you, Daisy, really want.”
I nodded. The way he put it, it sounded so simple, but the truth of it was, I had no idea what I wanted.
The next morning, I got up and checked my email, hoping for some response to any of the resumes that I’d sent out. Nothing. I reread the article that I’d written and did a little editing while I drank my coffee. I was about to start sending out more resumes when the doorbell buzzed. I went over to the intercom.
“Hello?” I said, trying not to sound wary. I really hoped it wasn’t Noah.
“Daisy,” a male voice said. “Hey. It’s Jonathan. Can
I come in?”
“Jonathan—hey. Sure. Hold on.” I went out and opened the main door and let him in. He followed me into my apartment.
“I’ve missed seeing you around the office,” he said. “How’s it been going?”
“It’s been all right. Still on the hunt for a job.”
“Yeah? That sucks. I know the market’s pretty tough out there right now.”
“Something will work out. I’ve been sending out resumes and stuff. I’ve got a little bit of money saved to tide me over.”
Jonathan nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. And Ben told me about what went down with Noah, so you probably won’t have to move now, right?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Unless of course I decide to uproot my life and go out to California or something. Maybe Seattle.”
“Really?” he asked. “You’re thinking about doing that?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure—but maybe a change would be good? Maybe it’d be nice to see another part of the country. There’s not really anything holding me here anymore.”
He rubbed his palms together and took a deep breath. “Look, Daisy,” he said. “I should’ve been up front with you about this from the very beginning. I like you. I like you a lot. Not in just a friend way. I mean, I think you’re a great friend, but I’ve been interested in you as more than just a friend for . . . well, it’s been a while.” I stared at him as his words started to sink in. Then I burst out laughing. Probably not the response that he was hoping for.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in between fits of laughter. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just . . . this whole thing . . . I just don’t even know what to think.”
“It was messed up the way Ian’s been treating you,” he said. “But I . . . I did something.”
I stopped laughing. “You did something? What do you mean?”
“That whole thing with Martin Harris? That was me.”
“What do you mean, that was you? You were the one who let it get out that whole thing was happening?”
