The Wilson Mooney Box Set

by Gretchen de La O

  “Hold on. What did Joanie have to say?” I asked.

  Nick stopped, his hand on the knob and his face toward the door, as he answered, “Nothin’ much, just that she was delayed in Palm Springs and she wanted to check in on you, so I filled her in on what happened.”

  “Nick, wait a minute, what do you mean? What did you fill her in on? That I passed out?” I rolled the top of my towel down, tightening it across my chest. Nick stopped, still staring at the door. “Look at me!” I demanded.

  Nick turned around slowly. His eyes narrowed as they cased the carpet before catching my feet and scaling up my legs, across the curves of my towel to my bare shoulders and neck, then finally seizing my eyes.

  “I told her you passed out and I told her about you and Max.”

  “What do you know about us, I mean, Max and me?” I asked.

  “I called Calvin when you were passed out earlier. He told me everything.”

  “What everything did he tell you?”

  “Everything—Frank, Calvin, Nancy, you and Max breaking up; I know everything, Wilson,” he said before he turned to the door.

  Calvin told him we broke up. Broke up? Max thinks we’re broken up. I was floored. Of all the things Nick said, of all of the things that gyrated through my head, those words damaged me the most.

  “What else do you know?” I whispered, hoping his words wouldn’t destroy me any further.

  “Well, I know if I was Max, I’d fight for you. I’d do whatever it took to get you back. Nothing would stop me,” he said with conviction before he turned and walked out the door.

  I felt my heart tumble down into my stomach and my head spin. Suddenly it didn’t matter that Nick saw me naked. What mattered was that Max wasn’t fighting for me.

  I pulled on my panties and fastened my bra, and my mind shifted to what Nick had said about Max and me being broken up. A sick swell of losing Max curdled in my stomach. I snatched my shirt and stretched it over my head, thinking about Nick’s comments that were better left unsaid. I got mad thinking about the “If I was Max, I’d fight for you” part. Who told him Max wasn’t fighting for me?

  I stretched my jeans across my legs and hopped, pulling them past my feet. I could feel my jaw tighten and my shoulders stiffen. Nick needed to explain to me who said what. Were the words “broken up” coming from Nick or Calvin?

  I don’t think Max would say we were broken up. I mean, he had to know I wasn’t breaking up with him…I told him I loved him. But when I left him I didn’t give him an explanation of what I was doing, and…I drove away with another guy. But I never said we were breaking up, or that we were not breaking up. Shit, I can’t remember what I said!

  I snatched my phone from the bed, checked to see if I had any missed calls or texts, then shoved it into my pocket. I went to get my makeup bag from my suitcase when I remembered I left it in the bathroom, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go back in there. I needed to get to Nick and find out just who he’d gotten his information from, so I towel dried my hair, combing my fingers through it, before I trudged downstairs.

  I heard him in the kitchen with Lupita. He was laughing spastically, and she was speaking quick, sarcastic, high-pitched words, plastered with her Spanish accent. I froze in the dining room, waiting to hear what was so funny.

  “Thanks for cheering me up, Lupita, I needed that,” I heard Nick say as he caught his breath.

  “No problem, Nikos. Would you like enchiladas for your señorita or chili rellenos?” I heard her say with a kick in her words.

  “Well, Lupita, she isn’t my girl, she’s in love with someone else.” Nick’s voice carried a heavy tone.

  “No worries, mi bebé. Your Lupita will work her magia. That señorita won’t resist mi cooking and your coraźon,” Lupita sang over clanking pans and splashing water.

  “Well, I’m afraid my heart isn’t enough; but maybe your magical cooking will give me a chance,” Nick told her.

  I felt my gut twist. Deep down I’d always known he had feelings for me; nothing had changed for him, from when he kissed me back in November and all the time in between when there’d been subtle moves on his part. Okay, well, maybe sucking my finger wasn’t too subtle. But damn it, I’m really pissed off that I’ve been misrepresented. I wanted to drill Nick about what Calvin said about Max and me breaking up, but I couldn’t bring myself to come blaring in with my guns drawn and my pain nailed to my sleeve. Nick rushed to me when I needed him; he was there for me, without question. So I meandered in to the kitchen like I hadn’t heard any of their conversation.

  I clomped my feet, making enough noise so they’d hear me. Nick was leaning back in the bar chair, his hands tangled in his brown, wispy hair as he used the moment to stretch his body. Lupita was waist deep in the huge restaurant-style fridge, pulling out everything she needed to make dinner. Nick saw me, hopped off his chair, and pulled out the one next to him.

  “Hey, Wilson, nice to see you dressed,” he said through a smile.

  “Funny, Nick. Hi, Lupita. Nice to see you,” I sang, hoping Lupita would hear me as I slipped into the chair Nick held.

  “Gracias, señorita. Nicholas told me you are hungry. I’m making enchiladas rancheras. Son deliciosas,” Lupita declared as she kicked the door closed. Wedged between her chin and hands was a huge block of queso fresco cheese, a massive stack of corn tortillas, a bundle of green onions, and a grocery bag of red, plump tomatoes.

  “Mucha hambre. Is that how you say very hungry?” I asked, rubbing my stomach.

  “Sí, muy bien,” Lupita nodded as she slid a can of Coke across the granite counter to me.

  Nick twisted and leaned in toward me, close enough that I could smell the faint hint of his cologne dance between us. “Wilson, I wanted to apologize for what happened upstairs. I didn’t mean to…it wasn’t supposed…I didn’t mean to umm…” Nick struggled to say the right thing. I felt the swell of his breath pour warmth down my neck and across my collarbone.

  I turned, staring into his dark brown eyes, hoping he’d discover how hurt I was by what he said to me upstairs. But what was I going to say? Especially after I overheard what he was telling Lupita. So I swallowed the words I wanted to ask him.

  “Well, it isn’t every day you see me buck naked,” I said as I cracked open the Coke and took a swig. He relaxed at my words, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to find out what Calvin had told him about Max.

  “That’s true. I can’t stop that image from burning across my eyes,” he mumbled in a snarky tone before he glanced at me.

  “Well I can poke your eyes out, that may help,” I retorted as I pointed my fingers toward his face.

  It felt like the old Nick for a moment; the one I could hang out with and it wouldn’t be awkward.

  “Naw, I got something better.” He hopped off the chair and went into the liquor room. I was hoping that I could broach the subject of Calvin and Max when he came back, but he didn’t give me a chance to say anything.

  “Lupita, would you hand me a couple of glasses with ice, please?” Nick asked as he slid a bottle of Bacardi across the counter. Lupita handed him two short glasses filled to the brim with ice.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “I don’t know, Nick, I haven’t really eaten anything today and I’ve already had that drink you made me earlier,” I said, taking a swig of my Coke.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Besides, Lupita is a great cook. Right, Lupita?”

  “Sí, Nikos,” she confirmed as she worked the kitchen. She slipped a huge glass dish of enchiladas into the oven. “Quince minutos,” she declared before wiping her hands on the bottom of her apron.

  “Hear that? Fifteen minutes and you will have some of the best Mexican food in town.”

  “Really, so Lupita cooks for Browler’s Burritos?” I teased.

  “Now come on, not everything is so black and white,” Nick answered.

  “I didn’t think so.” I looked at Nick before turning to Lupita; we
shared a smile.

  Nick pulled the glasses over and filled them a third of the way up with rum before he snagged my Coke and topped them off.

  “Just try this, you’ll like it,” Nick said as he held up one of the drinks.

  “What if I don’t like it?”

  “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he snickered.

  “Well don’t be so sure. What if I don’t?” I pushed.

  “You will. Everyone likes Bacardi and Coke.” His eyes twinkled. I stared at him as I put the rim of the glass to my mouth. I made sure he watched me, and just before I took a swig, I pulled the glass away. “Well, I am totally trusting you right now, so you’d better be right,” I said.

  I pushed the chilled rim between my lips and let the drink pour across the tip of my tongue before it pooled against my taste buds. The back of my tongue began to burn and my windpipe constricted, causing me to swallow. The gulp I took blazed so slowly down my esophagus, it left a forest fire of burning residue. My eyes automatically began to water and tears ran down my cheeks.

  “Holy shit, Wilson, you are supposed to sip it; not take a huge gulp. Well, not until you’ve had a couple, at least.” Nick grabbed the kitchen towel from the counter, leaned back in his chair, and started to fan me.

  “I blame it on you, telling me everyone likes them. Besides, I’m not a lush like all of Cindy’s Seasonals,” I spat as I caught the towel and blotted my cheeks. My voice sounded like I had a bubble in my throat; I didn’t expect the drink to be so harsh.

  “Aquí, bebés—eat,” said Lupita, totally oblivious to my rookie move of taking a huge swig. She slid two plates in front of us. Nick reached across to catch the cheese that was cresting the side of his plate.

  “Cuidado esta caliente, Nikos,” Lupita chanted as she slapped his hand with her oven mitt.

  “Ooooh, you got your hand slapped, you’re in trouu-bble,” I teased.

  “Yeah, well she’s the only one who is allowed to slap my hand,” he said as he dropped the melted cheese in his mouth.

  Lupita smiled at Nick; her brown eyes sparkled against her lively wrinkles and earthy skin. Her thick, onyx-black hair, speckled with strands of gray, was perched flawlessly on the crown of her head in a tight bun.

  “And it’s a good thing I love you like mí madre,” he said as he looked at Lupita fondly; without hesitation, she bent toward him over the counter and wrapped her portly arms around him before whacking him across his shoulder.

  It was comfortable—in fact, enjoyable—to watch Nick and Lupita interact. It kept my mind off every other crappy thing happening outside of the moment. I took a bite of the enchiladas and didn’t look back. They were amazing. White, Mexican cheese that melted in your mouth jumbled with green onions and black olives folded between huge, flour tortillas, drowning in ranchera sauce. I inhaled half of my first enchilada before ever looking up.

  “Oh my God, these enchiladas are unbelievable, Lupita, thank you so much,” I said as I glanced at her and Nick. They both started smiling.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Triunfo mí magia,” Lupita whispered to Nick. She looked at me and added, “Gracias. I must go organizar señorita Cindy’s dormitorio.” She pulled off her apron and headed upstairs. Nick watched her leave before he turned to me and smiled.

  “Why did she say triunfo magia?” I asked, looking at him.

  He ignored my question as he motioned toward his face; his eyes were fixed on my mouth and licking the corner of his lip. “You’ve got some ranchero sauce right here,” he said.

  I ran my tongue around my lips. “Did I get it?”

  “No, it’s in the bottom corner.” He pushed his finger toward my face. He watched me struggle, trying to lick the corner of my mouth.

  “Here, let me—help you,” he said as he stood next to me and snatched his napkin off the counter. He held my chin with one hand and delicately wiped the corner of my mouth. His fingers felt hot as they pressed, his eyes beamed bright, and his smirk twisted as he focused on helping me.

  “So, why did Lupita say her magic is done?” I asked as he kept dabbing the corner of my mouth. Nick’s eyes constricted and his head tilted.

  “I didn’t know you understood Spanish.”

  “Ahh, yeah, well, four years with the same crazy Spanish teacher will do that.”

  “You’ve had the same teacher for the last four years?” he asked, almost like he knew he was changing the subject.

  “Señora Puttabaugh. Wesley encourages its students to take four years of a foreign language. Basically, it boils down to, the woman’s gotta work and there isn’t a huge demand for more than one Spanish teacher in a boarding school of less than a hundred and seventy-five students.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Nick said, tossing his napkin. My eyes followed the napkin as it landed into the island’s stainless steel sink. I caught sight of his iPhone on the counter between us. Suddenly, I wanted to check my phone. Maybe Max texted me, or called and I didn’t hear it.

  Who am I fooling? What I really want to find out is what Calvin said to Nick. I am aching to know what Nick knows about Max. It took every bit of self control I had not to blurt out my questions at him. But then again, my internal voice is never really too internal. So of course, keeping with tradition, I went there.

  “So when you called Cal earlier, what did he say about Max and…me?” I spewed before I picked up my drink and took another swig.

  I obviously tossed Nick off balance by the way I changed the subject. His eyes narrowed, his face flushed two shades of colorless, and he sucked in his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth as he thought about his response.

  “He told me Frank…died,” Nick said before he retrieved his drink and poured the rest into his mouth. I knew this wasn’t a subject he wanted to talk about. But I wanted to know if he knew anything about Max, and if all I could do was pick his brain, then I was going to do it.

  Nick continued, “…and that you and his brother… aaahh…broke up.”

  “Is that what Cal’s calling it? A break-up?” I asked.

  My intentions were beginning to warp into finding out exactly who said what.

  “I don’t know, Wilson, that’s what I heard. The guy just lost his dad.” Nick stood up, his demeanor teetering on irritated.

  Nick’s right. Max and Calvin’s dad is gone. Death has knocked on the Goldsteins’ door and they have their hands full with taking care of that business. What was I thinking?

  “I’m gonna grab a couple more cans of Coke, do you need anything?” Nick asked.

  I didn’t say anything, just shook my head.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said as he passed the fridge and kept going.

  I watched as he walked around the corner. My eyes dragged back to his plate, still filled with enchiladas. He hadn’t touched his dinner.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Max and his family. I kept beating myself up for the mistakes I made—stupid lies I told, fucked-up choices I stuck by. I drank the rest of my Bacardi and Coke. The minute the empty glass clanged against the granite countertop, I swore, my brain swirled in my head and I felt the alcohol rush through my veins. The kitchen cabinets seemed to pulse toward me and the lights swarmed in and out of my vision. My eyelids became a bit heavier than a couple of minutes ago.

  I snatched the Bacardi Nick had left on the counter and poured a shot into my glass, opened my mouth wide, and tossed it back. Holy shit, dragon fumes scorched through my nostrils. Flames burnt every last taste bud and nerve on the back of my tongue and esophagus. I couldn’t stop from coughing as my eyes experienced a flash flood of tears.

  “Haarrrccckk, woooh, buuurrrnnnssss,” I sang to myself, dragging my arms across my wet eyes. In some strange way the firestorm going down my esophagus and churning in my stomach obliterated the pain of not being needed or wanted. I knew I was a lightweight, but I didn’t expect to feel so light-headed so quickly.

  Nick walked back with two more Cokes.

 
; “What are you doing, Wilson?” Nick asked as I poured another shot of Bacardi in my glass. I didn’t really care at this point who I was with or what I was doing.

  “I’m becoming numb, jus’ where I think I should be,” I slurred before I chucked another burning shot down and exhaled a throat-clearing, raspy bellow.

  “Well, for someone who hates Bacardi and Coke, maybe you should slow down or at least have some Coke with your rum,” Nick joked.

  I stood up from the island and felt my legs go shaky under my body. Instantly my eyes twirled in my head, and I could tell the drinks were catching up to me. Maybe it was a mixture of my ruins and his rum, I don’t know, but I pushed my fingers against my chest and started to go off.

  “Maybe you should know…why I wanna get numb. Did you know Nancy gave up on me? And Camille didn’t even frickin’ fight for me? Oh, and Calvin—can you believe he stabbed me in the back? Right in the back—and Max, I gave him everything, everything I was—everything I had—I gave it right to him. Here you go…just take it…take it,” I spouted.

  “Wilson, maybe you should slow down a bit,” Nick said, taking my glass.

  “Slow down! I did—I tried to do the right thing…I left. When Calvin blurted out to his family that I was…that I was… Max’s student! I left. I never wanted anyone to know I was Max’s teacher, I mean, that he was my teacher! But I knew that, that family was gonna need time to deal with all the trauma of Frank’s death and didn’t have the ability to deal with us,” I stuttered loudly.

  “Wilson, shhh, it’s over now,” Nick said as he closed in against me. My bent arms pinned the space between us; his arms wrapped tight around my back. I balled my hands in fists and bounced them on his chest.

  At first I didn’t accept him grabbing me; I wanted to fight. I hated how I felt. I didn’t want to be found out and I didn’t want to stay lost.

  “Who told you its over? Who told you that?” I bellowed.

  “I’m telling you now. What’s done is done, Wilson, the secret is out…it’s over; right now it’s over,” Nick kept repeating.