by Megyn Ward
I leave quietly. Calmly, with Janine following me to the elevator, her short, stocky legs working double time to keep up with me. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Faraday,” she huffs softly behind me. “You’re such a sweet girl and I wanted to tell you, but...” she trails off when the doors slide open and I step inside and turn to look at her. I think she’s expecting to see tears. That I’m going to lose my mind, ride the elevator all the way to the roof and fling myself off it.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
“I really am sorry, Ms. Faraday.” she says softly, her hands chest-high, churning themselves into knots. I’ve been dating James for almost a year and she’s the only person in this entire building who ever called me Ms. Anything. To everyone else, I’m nothing more than James’ hot young girlfriend. The girl who’ll get out of bed to bring him coffee at 3AM when he’s working on a big case or pick up lunch for the team while they’re prepping for court, even though he has an intern for that. But why ask your intern to fetch you lunch when you can just as easily ask her to lift her skirt and bend over your desk?
Laughter bubbles on my lips and I fight hard to suppress it. “It’s alright,” I say, pressing my thumb against the button marked G for garage. The day I hurdle myself off a building over a guy like James Templeton is the day I sprout wings and fly. I offer her a smile to show her that I really am alright. “I understand, Janine, and it’s okay,” I tell her as the doors slide closed.
It doesn’t really hit me until I pull into my driveway. I just walked in on my boyfriend fucking someone else and I’m four days away from sleeping in my car. Nia’s here. I can hear the TV blaring the divorce court show that comes on after her soap. Over the din, I can hear her on the phone, babbling away about how Justin popped the question and about how she wants to get married in Belize. Her parents are loaded so she’ll get her way.
Because I don’t want to go in and deal with her and because I’m a total glutton for punishment, I sit in my car and use my phone to google James’ law firm and search their employee directory. I clicked the tab marked SUMMER INTERNS and there she is in a group photo. Elisabeth Lindstrom, looking fresh and wholesome and not at all like the kind of girl who would let someone who is practically old enough be her father, stuff a tie in her mouth and pound her into the side of his desk.
Looking at her, I realize I don’t care. Which is sad, really. I’ve been cheated on so many times by so many different guys that I can’t even work up a decent rage over the fact that I caught my boyfriend cheating on me. Again.
I close my browser but don’t put my phone away. Fingers poised above my cell’s screen, I contemplate calling Patrick. Even though he tries to hide it, I know he doesn’t like James. Telling him what James did would confirm everything he thinks about him. And about me. Instead of calling Patrick, I call Tess but it goes straight to voicemail. I leave her a message, telling her that I got the job and that we’re all meeting at Gilroy’s to celebrate before hanging up.
Even though he literally got caught with his pants down, I have no doubt James will show up at Gilroy’s tonight and somehow manage to turn this whole thing around on me. Somehow make me responsible for the fact that he can’t keep his dick in his pants.
The real sad part is that yesterday, I would have gone for it. I would’ve bought his half-assed apologies and promises that he’d never do it again. I’d probably even apologize to him for showing up at his office unannounced and promise to be a better girlfriend. More attentive. More giving. An even bigger doormat.
Because not only am I a glutton for punishment, I’m also a dumbass.
“Was,” I say out loud. As in not anymore. James can apologize and gaslight me until he’s blue in the face. This time, I’m not buying it. I’m over it. I’m over him.
I get out of my car, slamming its door behind me. Despite My yogurt-stealing bitch of a soon-to-be ex-roommate and my intern-fucking ex-boyfriend, today is a day for celebrating. I’m going to put on my favorite dress, even though it’s a little too extra for Gilroy’s. I’m going to drink a little too much. I’m going to flirt and dance and have a good time.
And when James shows up, expecting me to forgive him and act like nothing happened, I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself.
Six
Cari
I didn’t hear him knock. Probably because he didn’t. Conner isn’t really the knocking type, he just lets himself in. Wherever he pleases, whenever he feels like it. One of the several hundred things I envy about him. I look over to find him leaning against the door jam, trying not to look impressed with the work I’ve managed to put in on the room, despite the fact I’m working sixty-hours a week with this brother.
“Come on,” he says, giving me an impatient clap of his hands. “It’s quittin’ time Cap’n.”
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”
“You’d rather I call you Boogey Nights?”
I bend over to load paint onto my roller, barely sparing him a glance. “I fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?”
“Cap’n it is.” Conner grins at me, pleased with himself for getting a rise out of me. “You gonna come downstairs at some point or are you too busy to drink beer with your favorite cousin?”
I look over my shoulder, pushing the paint roller upward, as close to the ceiling as I can get.
“Declan’s working?” I say, laying the roller in its paint tray to step back so I can admire my work. I’ve been renovating the apartment over Gilroy’s for the past few years and this bedroom is the last piece of the puzzle.
“Fuck you,” Conner says, laughing despite his harsh words, casting his gaze around the room. “Looks pretty good in here, man,” he concedes with an approving nod. “When you moving in?”
I’ve been living here while I work on the place but I’ve been camped out in the room down the hall, which is cramped and dim—nothing like the room we’re in now.
“As soon as the paint dries,” I say with a grin, taking a long, appraising look of my own. I’d expanded the space, knocking down the wall between this room and looked like what used to be our grandmother’s sewing room, adding another hundred square feet of space. Now there’s plenty of light and space for my drafting table and the king-sized bed I’d bought at a flea market a few weeks ago.
“Well, come on then,” he says, giving his hands an impatient clap. “Tess is whipping my ass at pool. I need back-up and it’s hot as balls up here.”
“Alright,” I say, lifting the hem of my shirt to wipe sweat off my face. I’d been putting off opening the vents that lead up from the bar. My uncle Paddy—Con and Declan’s dad—rents the place to me, utilities included, but I don’t like the idea of jacking up Gilroy’s electric bill just so I don’t have to sweat. I pick up the roller and disposable paint tray off the drop-cloth covered floor and tossed it in the trash. “Cari show up?” I say as casually as I can but Conner isn’t buying it.
“Legs?” he says, using the nickname he gave Cari the night he met her. The smile on his face says he used it just to piss me off. “No—although, I’ve been up here with you for about fifty-seven years, so who knows? She might’ve shown, met the love of her life, gotten married, had kids and died by now.”
“Okay, okay…” I push past him on my way down the hall, “Get out of here so I can shower,” I tell him as I strip off my shirt, heading down the hall to the bathroom.
“You don’t want me to wash your back, Cap’n?” Conner calls after me, grinning so wide I can hear it in his voice.
“Fuck off,” I say, just before I slam the door.
“Are you guys twins?”
I’m about three pints in, building a good buzz, when she finally asks. I knew it was coming—they always ask—but even though genetically, my cousins and I are siblings, the idea of Conner and me sharing a womb still makes me laugh.
“No.” If she’d asked Conner, he would’ve given her some bullshit answer like he made me with one of those 3D printers or that I’m a s
entient robot he build his freshman year at MIT. “We’re cousins.” I say, draining my pint. “Our identical twin fathers married identical twin sisters. Stir that together and you get us.” I look at Conner, standing on the other side of the pool table, head ducked so he can talk to Tess. Looking at Conner is like looking in a mirror. Or it would be if I stopped shaving, cutting my hair and giving a shit about my general appearance. Same dark hair. Same green eyes. Same everything… right down to our dimples. Well, almost everything. His jawline is a little leaner. I’m an inch and a half taller. His left arm is completely sleeved out with tattoos, with more splashed across his chest and back. We’re not truly identical but we look enough alike to give people pause.
The girl bounces a look between Con and me before landing on me with a smile. “You’re way hotter.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Despite his worn jeans, three-day beard and IDGAF attitude, Conner is the heavy hitter between the two of us. In fact, I’d be hard-pressed to look around Gilroy’s and find a girl he hasn’t had under him. Me? Well, let’s just say it’s been a while.
I clear my throat. “You want to break?” We’re playing pool—Con, Tess and some girl he sweet talked into being my partner. I think her name is Sara. I’m not 100% sure, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings by asking.
“You do it,” she says, laying a hand on my bicep, fingers digging in just enough to let me know she’s interested in more than playing pool. “I’m good at a lot of things but pool isn’t one of them.”
I give her a non-committal smile, leaning over the table, positioning my cue in front of the balls Con just racked, giving them a serious crack that scatters balls across the felt. She’s cute but I’m not really feeling it.
That’s when I see Cari through the window, standing on the sidewalk outside the bar on her cell. She’s still wearing those red heels, only this time she’s wearing a dress that makes me glad I’m hunched over a pool table. Tight black lace, barely this side of decent with whisper thin straps that leave her shoulders and back bare. As usual, the sight of her makes me hard.
It takes me a second to realize she’s arguing with someone, mouth moving rapidly, voice raised so I can hear the hum of it through the glass. Ending the call in what looked like mid-sentence, she jams the cell into her bag and disappears around the corner, heading toward the front door of the pub.
“There’s Cari,” Tess says, fitting her fingers into her mouth to give a short whistle to get her attention. As soon as she sees us, Cari smiles and points, signaling she’s making a trip to the bar before she heads our way.
“Another drink?” I drain my pint before nodding at my pool partner’s empty glass. She shoots a quick glance at the table where a bunch of her girlfriends are watching us. Letting some random guy at a bar bring you a drink isn’t smart but I can tell she’s about to say yes, against her better judgment. “Why don’t you come with me?” I say on impulse. I don’t want to be responsible for this girl trusting the next guy who makes the same offer.
I take Tess and Con’s order before leading Sara through the crowded bar. At some point, she threads her fingers through mine. “I almost lost you,” she says with a laugh, giving herself an excuse to grab my hand. I give her another smile and don’t pull away because I don’t want to be rude.
Declan is behind the bar tonight and seeing me push my way to the front, he ignores the crowd of frat boys and college bros, flipping a pint glass off the rack to build me a Guinness. Cari is standing a few feet away. With James. He must’ve been hiding out at the bar, waiting for her to show up. They’re being quiet about it but I can tell that they’re arguing. He must’ve been who she was on the phone with.
With one eye on Cari, I watch Declan set my pint down before he holds up the mixer gun. “Cran or sour?” he says loudly, smiling at the girl next to me. Gilroy’s college girls drink one of two things—whiskey sours or cranberry and Malibu.
She flushes. She’s been drinking whiskey sours all night. “I’ll take a Guinness,” she says, tightening her grip on my hand.
Declan gives her a dubious glance but builds her a pint anyway. “Con too?” he says, already moving for another glass.
“Yeah,” I say, distracted by the drama unfolding a few feet away. James keeps reaching for Cari’s arm and she keeps pulling away, shaking her head. “Tess wants a—”
“I know what Tess drinks,” Declan says, his tone tight enough to pull my attention away from Cari. I watch as he places a single ice cube in a rocks glass before adding two fingers of Jameson.
“I said no!” Cari says loudly and I look back just in time to see her throw her drink in James’ face. She turns to make her getaway but he’s too fast for her.
“Bitch,” he shouts, reaching for her arm, his fingers so tight around her bicep the tips of them disappear into her flesh as he starts to haul her close. People are paying attention now, the immediate crowd surrounding them gone quiet, but no one tries to intervene.
Drinks and the girl standing next to me forgotten, I take two strides and push into the middle of it, bringing myself nose to nose with Cari’s boyfriend. “Hey, James,” I say, keeping my tone conversational. “You’re gonna want to let go of her arm. Now.”
“Yeah,” he sneers at me. From the corner of my eye, I can see his fingers dig in deeper. “What are you gonna do about it, boy scout?” We’ve spend enough time together over the past nine months to decide that we didn’t like each other but we’ve always been nice for Cari’s sake. That’s over now.
“What am I gonna do?” Without looking, I reach a hand across the bar, smiling a few seconds later when I grip my fingers around the smooth handle of the baseball bat that Declan passes me from behind the bar. “I’m gonna invite you out back and when we get there, I’m going to take this bat to your fucking head,” I tell him, my tone still pleasant. “How’s that sound?”
James is drunk but he’s not stupid. His gaze shifting between the four of us, he lets go of Cari. “Keep her,” he says, mopping the vodka soda Cari threw at him off his face, before giving her an ugly look. “She’s a slut anyway.”
The slur has me jerking at the bat, but Declan still has ahold of the other end and he won’t let it go. “Easy,” he says under his breath. At least that’s what I think he says. My blood is rushing so loud in my ears that he could be reciting the Gettysburg Address for all I know.
We all watch him weave his way toward the door, the crowd parting, making a jagged path for him until he’s gone. As soon as the door swings shut behind him, the crowd lets out a cheer.
“That was a new one,” Declan says, stashing the bat back behind the bar. James is gone and Sara is back at the table her friends are crowded around, all of them shooting me looks that range from wary to lustful. I don’t really care about any of it though. Tell the truth, I just want them to leave and take Sara with them.
Tess has Cari cornered in Conner’s booth, trying to calm her down. Not that she’s hysterical. In fact, she looks so angry that I expect her to demand the bat from Dec so she can go after James and finish what I started.
“Why?” I say, cutting Declan a look. I know what he’s talking about. “Because I’m a pussy?”
“Bitch, please.” Now he laughs at me. “I’ve seen you go to work—I know you’re not a pussy. But you usually look for a more diplomatic solution before you ask for the bat.”
“So, what?” I’m getting irritated which is a new one for me where Declan is concerned. Out of the three of us, Dec and I are the most alike. It’s Conner who usually manages to piss me off. “I’m a nice guy and nice guys can’t stick up for his friends?”
“Is that what that was?” Declan says, calling me on my obvious bullshit. It’s last call and the crowd has moved on to various frat houses and off campus housing to continue the party. It’s quiet but I pretend not to hear him, even though I can hear him just fine.
No. That’s not what that was and we both know it. That wasn’t about me defending a fri
end and we both know it. It was about Cari and the way I feel about her.
Declan shoots a quick glance over my shoulder before looking me in the eye. “Look, cousin, take it from—”
Before he can say what’s on his mind, Sara breaks into our conversation.
“That was nice, what you did for that girl,” she says, her hand back on my arm. “Not a lot of guys would’ve done that.”
“She’s a friend,” I say, the automatic answer that explains everything I’ve done or will ever do for Cari.
I must’ve said something right because Sara smiles. “Some of us are headed back to my place,” she says, looking over her shoulder toward the table where her friends are waiting. “Wanna come?”
I might be a nice guy but I’m not so nice that I don’t catch the double meaning in her words. If I go with her, we’re going to end up fucking.
I almost tell her she’s got the wrong Gilroy. That the one she wants looks just like me and is currently chatting up one of her friends. Instead, I smile and let her down gently. “I’ve got work in the morning,” I tell her, shooting Declan a quick glance. He knows I don’t have work tomorrow but he keeps his mouth shut.
“Okay…” She leans into me, pressing her mouth against mine, her tongue licking at its corner before she straightens. When she does, she has my cell in her hand. “Text me when you’ve got some free time,” she says, putting her contact information into my phone before handing it back.
“Absolutely,” I say even though I know I don’t mean it.
Seven
Cari
My favorite thing about Tess is that she won’t ask what happened with James. She’ll let me come to it on my own, in my own time. But I’m not ready. I’m too angry. Too keyed up to answer without losing my shit. When I saw Declan hand that bat to Patrick, I wanted to grab it and use it to cave James’ face in. I’m still thinking about it. Which isn’t like me at all.
