by Megyn Ward
He gives me an odd look. Like he thinks I’m full of shit. “I thought you were a painter.”
“Now you sound like Patrick,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told him a million times—it’s just a hobby.” I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not good enough to make a real go of it.”
Chase stops walking. “Who says?”
Now he really sounds like Patrick. “Where are you taking me?” I dodge the question because over the past few months, the things I want have started to change and to be honest, that scares me a little. “Are you the kind of guy who plies girls with tacos and beer and then axe murders them in a dark alley?”
He lets it go and starts walking again. “Seriously?” he laughs at me, leading me farther down the alley, a light at the end of it growing brighter the closer we get. “I would never axe murder the future mother of my children.”
I point a finger at him and laugh. “But you do axe murder girls—that’s what I’m hearing here.”
“What can I say?” He smiles. “The tacos and beer slows ‘em down.” Laughing, he keeps walking, pulling me along in his wake. “So, how long has it been?” he says, shooting me a knowing smile.
“How long has what been?” We’re close enough to the end of the alley that I can see people standing in line, waiting behind a red velvet rope. “Where are you taking me?”
He ignored my last question and answered the first. “How long have you been in love with your roommate?”
I almost choke, inhaling hard enough that air got stuck in my lungs. Coughing, I cleared my throat. “What?” I shake my head hard, hand pressed to my chest. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m not in love in love with Patrick.”
Chase gives me a long, sideways look—one that make me feel odd. Open. Like he can see things inside me that I can’t. Then he shrugs and smiles. “Sorry, my mistake,” he says, stopping a few yards from the entrance of what looks like a dilapidated warehouse.
The door is open and I can see movement inside. People in fancy clothes, walking the perimeter of the space. Splashes of color decorate the walls, illuminated by strategically placed lighting, waiters with trays of champagne weaving through the crowd. He fed me tacos and brought me to a gallery opening. “No,” I say, slumping against the wall. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to snap at you. Things between Patrick and I are complicated right now.”
“When I saw the way he was looking at you yesterday, I knew he was crazy about you,” he explained, leaning against the wall beside me. “I assumed the feeling was mutual.”
Crazy. I can’t think of a better word to describe the way Patrick and I have been behaving these past 24-hours. “I never noticed.”
Chase opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a word out, someone interrupts him.
“Cari?”
The sound of his voice stiffens my spine and I turn to see James standing on the pavement a few yards away, a beautiful blonde draped over his arm. She looks vapid. Dim. Like an expensive, beautifully dressed pet, waiting for her commands.
That used to be me. That’s what people see when they look at me.
I feel my stomach twist and it must show on my face because Chase steps closer, blocking my view of James and his date. “Are you okay?” he says, eyebrows lowered, jaw suddenly tight.
“I’m fine,” I say with a smile because there’s no way in hell I’m going to cause a scene. Not here. Not one that involves Chase. I angle myself around him to find James closer that before. “Hello, James.”
James says hi.
The idea that he followed me here pops into my head. But that’s crazy, right? It’s been months since we broke up and I haven’t heard a single word from him. As crazy as it is, I nearly cry with relief when I feel Chase slip an arm around my waist, pulling me close. He doesn’t know what’s going on but whatever it is, he’s not going to let me handle it alone.
“I thought that was you…” James eyes flick over Chase’s hand on my waist and he smirks for a second before aiming a smile at me. “It’s nice to see you again.”
I don’t say anything. Instead I give the blonde on his arm a polite smile. “I’m Cari,” I say, offering her a hand.
“Mimi,” she purrs, slipping a limp hand into mine while giving Chase a long look. “Hello, Chase.”
Chase’s hand tightens on my waist. “Mimi,” he says before focusing his attention on James. “If you’ll excuse us, Cari and I were in the middle of a private conversation. Perhaps we’ll see you inside.”
I have to roll my lips over my teeth to keep from laughing out loud. James looks like Chase just took a shit on his shoes. Before he can say anything, Chase uses the hand on my waist to usher me away.
“Ex-boyfriend?” He says softly, leading me toward the open door where a large man in a tuxedo is checking names against the list on his clipboard.
“Unfortunately.” I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to see James watching us. The look on his face tells me his being here is not an accident. “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Fuck no.” Chase laughs out loud this time. “Despite her best efforts… she’s just a model. I’ve used her a few times.”
I want to ask what used means but I don’t. It’s none of my business and I don’t really care.
He stops us in front of the man at the door. “See the blonde in blue and the shifty-looking shit with her?”
The man flicks a glance over Chase’s shoulder, watching as James and his date que up in line. “Yes, sir.”
“They don’t get in.” Chase taps a finger on the man’s clipboard. “I don’t give a shit what that thing says.”
The man gives him a conspirator smirk. “Yes, sir.”
Chase claps a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Emilio.” He grins at me, slipping his hand off my waist to offer me his arm. “Great—now that that’s over with, let’s go drink champagne and look at some shitty, over-priced art.”
I take his arm, looking around while I shake my head. “You can’t say things like that,” I whisper. “Someone will hear you.”
“Who cares?” He laughs at me, pulling me through the door, totally circumventing the line of people waiting to get in. “And I can say anything I want—it’s my shitty, over-priced art we’re gonna look at.”
Thirty-four
Patrick
The crowd starts to die when we call last-call around midnight. Technically we don’t close until 2AM but if there’s one thing the four of us agree on, it’s that this night needs to be over already. As soon as Tess’s boots hit the bar and she makes the announcement, blowing kisses at frat boys when they flip her off for cutting them off and flipping off drunk girls as they stumble out the door, toward the cavalcade of Ubers waiting to drive them back to their sorority houses.
“You’re a charmer,” I tell her, grinning up at her when she plants her hands on my shoulders as I help her off the bar.
She blows out a hard breath that ruffles the dark hair that falls into her eyes. “It’s why all the boys want me.” She gives me a wink, making me laugh even though laughing is the last thing I feel like doing. It’s after midnight and Cari still isn’t home from her date.
What did you think was going to happen? She basically got asked out by the man of her dreams. Did you really think you stood a chance?
Behind me, Declan is cashing out the waitresses. I can feel Lisa standing close. Too close. She’s practically breathing down my neck. On impulse, I grab Tess by the hand and pull her down the bar. Leaning over her, I brace a hand against one of the wells. “Put your arm around my waist,” I tell her quietly and because Tess is a trooper, she does it, no questions asked.
Well, almost.
She pushes up onto toes of her boots, bringing her mouth as close to my ear as she can manage, considering there’s almost a foot and a half height difference between us. “Are you gonna kiss me?” she whispers. “Because if you kiss me, I’m probably gonna throw up in your mout
h.”
I turn into her, pressing my mouth to her ear, trying not to laugh. “Kiss you? Please—I’d rather eat dog shit.”
Tess tossed her head back and laughs, the sound of it loud and deep. When Tess laughs, she goes for broke and everyone in the room stops to listen. “So, I guess that means you’re not taking me up to your swingin’ bachelor pad to give me the honor of sucking your dick?” Her hand slips off my waist and onto my ass, her fingers digging in hard enough to make me jump. I know she’s doing it for Lisa’s benefit but it feels wrong. Really, really wrong. Like, getting groped by my sister wrong.
“Cari told you?” I want to slam my head against the bar.
“She told me everything.” She shakes her head, grinning at me like a loon.
“I had a momentary lapse in judgment.” An embarrassed flush creeps up my neck. “I blame Conner. And Jameson.” And Cari. I blame her too. I look over my shoulder to find everyone watching us. Sara. The waitresses and Declan.
As soon as I look, everyone snaps into action. Declan gets busy with pulling cash and receipts from the drawer while the waitress walk away, mouths hidden behind their hands while they whisper. Thankfully, they take Lisa with them.
“Goodnight, ladies,” Tess says, lifting her hand off my ass to flutter it in a girly wave that is so unTess it makes me snort.
As soon as they’re out the door, I laugh and push myself away from her. “You’re an asshole.” I hear the cash register slam shut a second before I see Declan move out from behind the bar, heading down the hall toward the back office. The door slams shut a few seconds later. “What crawled up his ass,” I mutter.
“I did,” Tess says, grinning ear-to-ear.
I laugh out loud, shaking my head while collecting empties off the bar. “You shouldn’t poke at him,” I told her. “He came in on his night off to help us out.”
“His night off? Are you serious? I don’t even work here,” she says, scoffing loudly. “I came in because Con wouldn’t answer his phone and I wanted to tell him I cleared the deck at the garage and what do I find? You drowning in a sea of Malibu and IPA and our loveable manwhore, turning trick in the bathroom.” She throws up her hands before settling them on her hips.
“I didn’t ask you to stay,” I remind her, even though I should be kissing her ass because she did. Over her shoulder, I see Sara watching us with avid interest and not a little jealousy. It’s pretty obvious she didn’t believe me when I told her Tess and I were just friends. I suppose watching Tess grab my ass didn’t do a whole hell of a lot to convince her. Great. That’s all I need.
“Yeah?” Tess arches an eyebrow at me for throwing her attitude. “Someone had to get a handle on this mess and it sure in the hell wasn’t going to be you two fuckwits.”
“Turning tricks implies I get paid,” Con calls from the back of the bar. “I provide a valuable service, free of charge.”
Tess rolls her eyes so hard, for a second I’m convinced they’re going to fall out of her head and bounce across the floor. “I had plans!”
Conner’s disembodied laugh slams its way around the bar. “Hanging out with your cats doesn’t count as plans.”
“Fuck you, Gilroy—I don’t have cats.” Tess shouts, while she swipes chewed up cocktail straws and wadded napkins off the bar and onto the floor with a bar towel. “I have one cat. Singular. And for the record, Shadrach is awesome.”
“One cat, plus… how many strays do you feed at the garage, again? I lost count.”
Tess throws a couple of empty beer bottles into the trash. “Shut-up.”
“Seventeen?”
“I hate you.”
“Thirty-six?”
“You’re taking me to Benny’s for pancakes.”
“Ask your awesome cat to take you for pancakes,” Con teased back, even though we all know he’s going to do what she says. He always does.
“I’m not asking, Gilroy,” she yells. “Pan. Cakes.”
Conner laughs again, the sound of it followed by a sigh loud enough to hear from across the bar. “Yes, dear.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Tess did a fist pump, like there was ever a question she’d be eating pancakes an hour from now. “How about you, Cap’n—pancakes?”
Their exchange eats at me. Maybe it’s the ease between them. Something Cari and I will probably never get back. If Cari was around, we’d go to Benny’s with them. We’d all talk and laugh over questionable food choices and too much coffee. Afterward, Cari and I would walk home and talk. Sometimes, if she was still tipsy, even after eating, I’d give her a piggyback ride. Her legs wrapped around my waist and her head on my shoulder, the highlight of my night. The thought makes me laugh but there’s nothing humorous about the sound.
“Don’t you mean Predictable Patrick?” I say quietly. One of the glasses in my hand is chipped and I throw it in the trash can, on top of the bottles Tess tossed in there. The sound of breaking glass makes me feel better, but only for a moment. When I look up, I find Tess watching at me, a pained expression on her face.
“That was 100% me, Patrick,” she says, shaking her head. “And we both know I’m a complete asshole, which means you can’t hold me responsible for what comes out of my mouth.” Despite what she’s saying, she looks sorry. “Please don’t be mad at her because I’m thoughtless and shitty.”
I dump the load of glasses I’m holding into the sink, careful not to break anymore. “What’s to be mad at, it’s true isn’t it?” It is the truth. That’s why I’m mad. From the corner of my eye, I can see Tess shaking her head at me, her mouth open to argue with me.
It’s 12:20AM and Cari still isn’t back.
Fuck it.
“Sara, want to help me and Tess get this place cleaned up?” I say, shooting her the same grin Conner uses when he’s working co-eds. “I’ll pay you in pancakes?”
Sara perks up and hops off her barstool. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Thirty-five
Patrick
“Hey.”
I knock on the door jamb of the office before pushing it open. Declan doesn’t even lift his head from the ten-key, his fingers flying over the keys while he sifts through a pile of credit card receipts, wrangling the total fuckery of tonight into some semblance of order.
“What’s up?” he says, shooting me a quick look before gathering the pile of receipts and paper-clipping them together in a neat, orderly pile. It’s what he does best. Declan is an expert at keeping things neat and orderly.
I open the door on the dryer and pull out the load of clothes I threw in there more than twelve hours ago. It’s a hopeless, wrinkled mess that will have to be re-washed at some point but right now, I don’t care. “I thought you had dinner with Jess’s parents or some shit.”
“I left them at the restaurant with my credit card,” he says, swiping a hand over his face. He wouldn’t say it but I knew the deal. He hated Jess’s parents. Almost as much as the rest of us hate Jess.
“We’re heading to Benny’s, you want to come?” I ask, even though I know what his answer is and why. The answer is no. Because we includes Tess.
A frown creases the thin skin of his brow and he looks away, tucking the bundle of receipts into a zippered pouch. “Thanks, but I’m gonna head home,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ve got a game in the morning, remember?” He sounds pissy when he says it and I jam a pair of waded up jeans into my basket. This time we is him and me. We coach a little league team sponsored by our contracting company. The fact that he thinks he has to remind me, like I’m suddenly irresponsible or thoughtless, stiffens my jaw.
“No shit, Declan.” I laugh, shaking my head, grabbing a bunch of clothes from the dryer to jam into my basket. “We’ve had a game every Sunday for the past two-and-a-half-years—you think I magically forgot?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you remember or don’t anymore, Patrick,” he says, finally sitting back in his chair to glare at me. “You’ve been acting weird all damn day, and if I
’m honest, I’m getting sick of trying to figure you out.”
Declan sounds like I feel. Amped up and touchy. Angry and quick tempered. Looking down at the clothes in my hands, I see Cari’s red lace thong, peeking out between my fingers. The one I nearly ripped off her last night, seconds before I fucked her with my tongue. She must’ve snuck it into my laundry at some point during the day. I almost laugh, which is crazy because nothing about this is even remotely funny. “Same here,” I mutter, shoving the clothes in my hand into the basket, because I’m hoping to start some shit. Maybe if I get punched in the face enough times, I’ll snap the fuck out of whatever the hell is happening to me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s been spoiling for this blow-up all day, almost as much as I have, but I look anyway because I want to see his face when I say what comes out of my mouth next.
“I’m not fucking Tess,” I say, dropping my laundry basket on the floor at my feet. “Not that it’d be any of your business if I was.” I kick the basket across the floor and it sails through the open door and into the hallway. “You dumped her, remember? A long fucking time ago.”
Declan’s head snaps back like I sucker punched him in the face. All that’s missing is the blood. “That’s about as much your business as it is my asshole brother’s,” he says, the warning in his tone ringing loud and clear. “Which, in case you forgot, is none at all.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, fighting the urge to crank my hands into fists. “It is my business. Tess is my business.” I have no idea why I’m stirring this shit up. What happened between Tess and Declan happened a long fucking time ago and it’s never been any of my business before. I’ve always stayed out of it except to break up fights between him and Conner whenever Con gets his dick in a twist over it. Now it’s my dick in a twist and I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. Conner would be so proud. “She’s my friend and you broke her.”
