by Camy Tang
“You are very disobedient! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” She shook her finger at Dog, who licked it. “Ew! These are cashmere gloves, do you know that? How am I going to get your dog slobber out of cashmere? No! Stay away from my pocket—whoops!”
She stumbled over a chunk of ice and tumbled into the snowbank. Her jacket kept the snow from wetting her back, but ice from the top of the bank sifted onto her head, down her jacket, into her shirt, and soaking her bra. “Aaaargh!” Her jeans had become blue razzleberry twin popsicles, and her gloves had pieces of ice sticking to them.
What was worse, Dog trotted right up and rooted at her pocket, inhaling the chocolate scent in long, snotty breaths. Good thing the walkie-talkie was in the other pocket.
“Get away!” She swatted at Dog’s head, who thought it was a game and tried to lick her waving hand. “No, no, no!” She had to get out of this snow, if only Dog would let her.
“Move!”
Dog backed away, tail still wagging.
Was that a dog command? Well, no time to question good fortune. She scrambled to her feet, dripping chunks of snow. Ugh, she had snow in her shoes! Cold wetness slid down her ankle.
A faint whistle carried on the brisk air. Dog’s ears perked up, and then he dashed off.
Venus scowled as she brushed snow and water from her arms. “You were about five minutes too late,” she groused to the invisible owner.
“Venus?” crackled from her jacket pocket.
She grabbed the walkie-talkie. “I’m here.”
“We found Rebecca.”
“Thank goodness.” Followed by, “I want to be the first to wring her scrawny little neck.”
Silence. She just knew Drake was laughing.
“Where did you find her?”
“I didn’t. Ronald called my cell phone to tell me she showed up back at the cabin.”
“What? You have coverage?” She pulled out her cell phone, which she’d brought along on the fluke chance she’d get a signal. Still no bars.
“Head back to the cabin. I’ll meet you there with a cup of cocoa.”
What she really wanted was a triple-shot latte, but cocoa would have to do. She juggled the walkie-talkie, the flashlight under her arm, and the map in her other hand. “Okay. I don’t think I’m too far—”
With a flicker, her flashlight went out.
Venus dreamed of mochas.
Full fat milk, steamed until it was frothy with that microfoam the barista insisted was essential to a good coffee drink. Five pumps of chocolate—no stinting. With a heaping tower of real whipped cream on top.
Venti sized.
A whopping five hundred calories, with half of those calories from fat. Worth every single extra minute of her workouts for the entire week.
Well, almost. Worth it until she had problems buttoning her waistband or pulling up her jeans.
She huddled deeper into her jacket. She’d stop obsessing about her weight if she froze to death. Where was Drake?
After telling him her flashlight had gone out, she’d buzzed him on the walkie-talkie three times to demand—er, ask him where he was. He gave three different street names, but since she didn’t have light to read her map, she didn’t know how close he was. “Why don’t Lake Tahoe residents need street lamps like normal folk?”
“Because then it wouldn’t be considered ‘rural’ anymore.”
Drake’s voice shot out of the darkness from behind her. “Where are you?” She turned around and got the full glare from his flashlight. “Aah! Turn it off.” She rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Your teeth were chattering too loudly.”
“Were not.” She clenched her shaking jaw.
He grasped her arm to pull her up from the fallen tree log she’d been squatting on. “You’re soaked.”
“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. We’re surrounded by snow.”
“Which is frozen. Why are you wet?” He sniffed. “And you smell like wet dog.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”
“Hey, I’m not going to lie to you when you smell like wet dog. What happened?”
“What do you think happened? I got attacked by a wet dog.”
“Are you bleeding? Burning?” She could hear the smile in his voice.
She would have ground her teeth, except they’d already been shaved to nubs from chattering with cold. “Shut up. The beastly mongrel wanted Naomi’s Snickers wrapper from my pocket.”
“That’s your fault for keeping chocolate on you. You’re in the country. With raccoons and bears.”
“Bears?” She looked around, even though all she could see was, well, dark.
“Why do you think all the trash goes in those enclosed wooden shacks by the side of the road?”
“Uh…ants?”
“Tell me you’re not that ignorant.”
She bristled like a rather wet, icy porcupine. “Excuse me, you were never exactly Survivor Man yourself.”
He stilled in a way she could sense even in the darkness. “Things change when you almost die.”
She couldn’t speak. She’d never forgotten it, but for him, it seemed to follow him around like a ghost, appearing in dark corners.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, but the words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “It changed you a lot, Drake.”
“It didn’t change me. It made me realize I needed to change things.”
“That’s why you retired.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t answer. “But that’s also why you came out of retirement, right? To help Gerry? You two didn’t get along well when I knew you.”
“She hated me. I wasn’t there for her when she miscarried, when her husband divorced her. So when she needed my help for her company, I wanted to make up for it.”
They walked in silence. Venus could feel her legs again, although nothing below her knees. Then it occurred to her. “That’s why you’re helping me with my company.”
Again, he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, and she didn’t want to embarrass him more.
A breeze rustled the tops of the redwood trees towering above them like God’s armed guards. Maybe it was nice out here in the country. Quiet. Peaceful. A world completely removed from her normal life.
She’d never really asked God what He thought of her normal life. She usually figured that opened or closed doors were God’s way of telling her where to go. She never asked before deciding on what to do.
Like her company. She hadn’t prayed about it. Maybe God was telling her to stop and ask for His will, for once.
Do I even want to know?
She inhaled sharply, and the cold air cut her nasal passages, frosted her lungs. The reality was, she was afraid of what God would tell her. She was afraid of having her shortcomings held up in the light where she couldn’t deny them anymore. She was afraid of being told she’d never reach that point where she would have “made it.”
Could anyone blame her? She had echoes of her mother’s censure all through childhood, of how hard she’d had to work to prove herself in the male-dominated game development industry.
She knew in her head that God didn’t care about what she accomplished or failed at. But her heart still shrank back from asking Him.
She finally did what she’d been expecting to do all night—she slipped. One foot slid forward, the other slid backward. Her inner thigh muscles screamed. One arm windmilled in the darkness, the other thrust out but only brushed her companion’s jacket. “Drake!”
She hung in mid-air an agonizing second. Then arms wrapped around her ribs while her feet skidded in circles on the ice. She grabbed onto his life preserver arms but couldn’t get purchase for her feet.
He bounced her upward until she was more upright, and she finally was able to straighten her legs and stand. Only then did she notice the pounding pressure of blood in her ears. Her jacket had r
idden up and cold air tickled her exposed waist. Her shoulders hunched from where she grabbed at him, and the scent of his cologne mingled faintly with woodsmoke from his jacket.
She wanted to kiss him.
How cheesy. She wasn’t in a chick flick, and she wasn’t as sweet and cutesy a heroine as Sandra Bullock or Anne Hathaway.
It didn’t make her want to kiss him any less.
Esme. Esme liked him. He seemed to like Esme—had taken her to the Christmas party. Esme, her friend.
“No.”
That sounded like her voice. Was she nuts? The man kissed like Casanova!
“No.”
There it was again. Someone was controlling her vocal chords, and it wasn’t her brain, because that was twisting like a psychedelic kaleidoscope.
“I can’t. I’m too busy. You’re…you. Esme. This isn’t a smart…thing.”
“What? Thing? Eloquent, Venus.”
Considering he was still holding onto her tightly, her objections sounded rather stupid. But thoughts of Esme cooled her heated brain rather quickly. She was going to be nice for a change.
Also, even though his embrace warmed her better than a hot shower, it felt too strange. She’d gotten used to keeping aloof from men, striving to be more professional, less emotional, less feminine. She focused on nothing else but her own company, to set all else aside until she had it.
This was just too weird a…thing. She really had no better word for it. And her entire body screamed with fear.
He let her go. She immediately missed his warmth as cold air refroze the water in her clothes. And a vast sea, still and awful, iced over in her heart.
She couldn’t see his face, but she wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. She turned and started walking.
“Venus.”
She kept walking.
“Venus.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He sighed. “Venus, you’re going the wrong way.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Venus picked at her salad and considered flinging a radish across the table.
She was picking at it because Mom had asked her out to lunch, but now that they were at the restaurant, neither of them knew quite what to say to each other. She wanted to fling food, because despite Venus’s attempts at small talk, Mom only answered in monosyllables, and she had a childish impulse to get her mother to say something, anything.
Venus hadn’t talked to her mother in over a month—since driving her home from Grandma’s Christmas party. She’d seen her at the family New Year’s party, but they’d avoided each other successfully.
Well, what could she say? “Gee, Mom, you’re looking better since you were sloshed and embarrassing at Grandma’s party”?
“Venus, I’m sorry.”
At first she didn’t realize Mom had spoken, until she reasoned that even in her daydreams, Mom never apologized. She glanced up, but Mom wasn’t looking at her; instead she poked at her pasta bowl.
Venus had to say something. The silence was going to stretch too long and then her mom would either get mad or start crying. “Uh…about what?”
“I’m sorry about the Christmas party.” Mom spoke to her linguine.
“Oh. Uh…thanks. I mean, that’s okay.” What was wrong with her? Besides which, it wasn’t okay. Who knows what kind of damage the whole fiasco did for Venus’s reputation, maybe even Grandma’s reputation? The memory of the night smoldered in her chest like lava rocks.
She ought to forgive and forget. She ought to honor her mother. The thoughts were only sprinkling drops that sizzled away on the coals.
Mom licked her lips. “I heard Yardley deliberately point me out after I slapped Arnold.”
“You heard that?”
Mom straightened in her ladder back chair. “I was tipsy, not deaf.”
Venus fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“Besides which, Yardley spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.” She blinked a few times, then licked her lip again. “Why does he dislike you so much?”
Venus looked down at her salad. “I quit his company, Mom.”
“That usually doesn’t make people so malicious.”
“Yardley doesn’t like that I’m setting up a game development company. Rivalry and all that.”
“Quite a bitter rival,” Mom said dryly. “Did you steal something from him?”
“What? No!”
Mom shrugged. “Just wondering. Did he steal something from you?”
The question came at her so fast, she didn’t have time to force out a suitable denial that wouldn’t be an outright lie. “Uh…”
“Ah.” Mom’s eyes gleamed. “I thought so. Your super secret software program, right?”
“It’s a gaming development tool.”
“So, something he’d be very interested in.”
It wasn’t a question, so Venus didn’t answer.
Mom swirled a shrimp and some noodles on her fork. “I wouldn’t worry, dear. Don’t underestimate how much power your grandmother has.”
Venus didn’t like playing this social-business game. Why couldn’t things be more straightforward?
“And don’t underestimate Drake’s parents either.” Mom took a bite. “He seemed rather interested in you.”
Venus set down her fork with a clatter. “He’s my boss, Mom.”
Her mother shrugged and chewed, and her innocent look said, You can say what you like, but I know you have the hots for him.
Venus hated when she did that. She sighed, breathing in pungent oregano and savory cheese from the kitchen. Another reason to pick at her salad—she had wanted lasagna but ordered the healthier option without even opening the menu, so she wouldn’t be tempted. Her skirt waistband cut into her stomach when she sat down—too many Reese’s peanut butter cups recently. Stupid Drake.
Why not date him? the insidious voice whispered.
No. Esme liked him, for one, and she wanted to focus on her company. Business relationships were easier than personal ones. Look at how well she did with her mom, with Grandma. It was too complicated, and she didn’t want complicated.
That was why she had chosen to live with her dad when her parents divorced. He didn’t show affection very much, but that also meant he didn’t fly off the handle at ridiculous things or betray her with selfish neglect when she wasn’t expecting it, like her mother did. Her relationship with her dad was simplistic—he was happy when she succeeded and unhappy when she didn’t. Venus could understand him better than she could understand her volatile mother.
Mom reached for her water glass. “Are you still working with your youth group?”
“Yes.”
“Do you…” Mom regarded her speculatively. “Do you like it?”
“Actually…yeah, Mom.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have pictured you enjoying working with teenagers.”
“I wouldn’t have either. But…they grew on me.” They made her laugh. They made her feel young. They made her so proud; they made her want to gather them to her and protect them exactly like a mother bird and her chicks. “Originally it was because of Gerry, but now I’m really glad she required it.”
“I don’t understand. It was for work?”
“I never told you? Gerry wanted us to connect with our user demographics better.”
“Did it work?”
“Well, we just got a really positive report from our testers on the new version. Apparently the fact that everyone’s been working with kids outside of work has helped quite a bit.”
“That’s marvelous.”
“In fact, I have a presentation next week to a major investor.”
“You always hated those.”
Venus grimaced. She had no problem sitting at a meeting table with other people, but standing in front of them made her nervous.
Mom sipped her water. “It’s because you were overweight for so many years. You don’t like being the center of attention.”
Why did she always have to bring t
hat up? “We are not discussing that, Mother.”
Mom pursed her lips but didn’t pursue it. “Why don’t you just have Drake do it?”
“He’s driving his mother to Oregon for some funeral.”
“Driving? Isn’t it a long way?”
“His mom refuses to fly, and his dad’s out of the country on business, so Drake volunteered.” The timing couldn’t be worse. Gerry was making only part of the presentation—the technical side was all Venus.
Mom gave a smile. “It says something about his character that he’d drive her himself rather than asking an uncle or somebody to do it.”
“There is no one else who can do it.” Venus thought Drake was nice to drive his mom, but she pitched her answer to squelch any of Mom’s wayward romantic hopes. No telling what embarrassing things Mom would do if she thought there was a chance for something more.
Mom gave her another innocent look. Venus glowered at her.
Mom’s eyes fell back to her food. Her voice was so soft, Venus almost didn’t hear her. “You know I only want you to be well-provided for and cared for, right? I don’t want to worry about you.”
Venus’s voice was soft too. “I know, Mom.” Her mom’s overtures lately—more than she’d ever done before—pleased Venus, although she didn’t expect her to drop all her self-centeredness and turn into June Cleaver. And Venus was starting to learn how to respond to her with more love and grace.
A bustle at the door made her glance up as a waiter ushered in a couple to a table. A foot-long spike stabbed into the base of her stomach.
Drake, with Esme’s pink-tipped nails wrapped around his arm.
The CTO candidate didn’t look any better the third time she read his resume, so why was she bothering?
She knew perfectly well why—to stave off the feeling of drowning every time she looked at the PowerPoint presentation.
Well, not drowning, exactly She refused to be beaten by a stupid presentation. But she was doing something that certainly needed to be done—looking for her replacement here at Bananaville—so it wasn’t avoidance or procrastination, per se. Not really.
