“Fine,” she relented. “Okay, so the director caught us making out in the green room.”
“Ooooooh, nice!” He was positively giddy over this revelation. “God, Juli. I just want to follow you around. Be a fly on the wall observing everything that happens to you.”
“No, you don’t; it’s not that exciting, trust me.”
“More exciting than changing nasty diapers or having a three-year-old crawl in bed with you every night because they’re scared of monsters under their bed.”
“Don’t forget, I already paid my dues in that department,” Anjuli reminded him. “So, I guess I should just be glad the director didn’t walk in on us a couple nights before...”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“Because after sex we fell asleep naked on the sofa in the green room.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as if even she was embarrassed to be making such a wild confession.
“Juli Raina!” he gasped. “Bad girl. I love it!” He rubbed his hands together. “So what else? What did he say when you apologized for getting him fired? Did you have crazy make-up sex?”
She shook her head. “No, he never answered my text. I don’t think he wants to see me again.”
Scott’s chin dropped. “You apologized to him via text?” He made a tsk tsk sound and gave her a reproachful look.
“What’s wrong with that? He’s a millennial. That’s how they communicate.”
“Yeah, but you’re Gen X all the way,” he explained. “You need to go sort that shit out in person.”
“Fuck. You think so? I don’t even know where he lives.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I know you’re going to feel guilty if you don’t apologize to him. Plus, you’re gonna need some closure.”
“Closure,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Spoken like a true psychologist!”
What good are Friday nights if there’s no one to spend them with? Anjuli sighed as she walked down the block to the liquor store. They were having unseasonably warm weather, almost like summer had returned for one last hurrah. She had thought about driving up to State College to surprise her daughter, but then Mishti told her she’d been invited to the fall semi-formal at her boyfriend’s fraternity. So much for that idea...
Wine and Netflix were on the agenda. She had been thinking a lot about what Scott had said during their discussion about Garrett earlier at lunch. He said she needed closure. Did she? Garrett was just another fling, like the other men she’d briefly “dated” in the past year. These things tended to run their course, and though she’d hoped to have more time with Garrett before it fizzled out, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I mean, he’s got to be ten years younger than me, she thought.
She had tried, though. Because Scott was right about one thing: she had a tendency to feel guilty, even about things that were beyond her control. She sent Garrett one final text: Could we get together in person to talk? But it was still crickets.
The bells on the liquor store door jingled as she stepped inside. The cashier was busy with another patron and didn’t acknowledge her, but she didn’t think much of it. Instead, she went to the red wine aisle and began looking for something new to try. After much deliberation, she chose a bottle of red and then one of white too...because you can never have too much wine, she reasoned.
During her selection process, all the other patrons left. She held her breath, hoping it wasn’t the creepy store manager who had been there the day she’d run into Garrett. There was something about him that sent up red flags, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She glanced at the counter and was relieved to see the handsome Latino cashier who often worked nights. Whew.
“Hey...haven’t we met?” he asked, glancing up at her with his brows knit together as if he was trying to place her in his memory.
She scanned his face, shocked to see how the brilliant blue of his eyes contrasted with his dark skin. She would remember a face like that, she had no doubt. “I don’t think so?”
“Oh, I remember.” His lips spread into a grin. “My roommate introduced us when I picked him up at the DuPont theatre earlier this week.”
It flooded back to her, the small silver car, the tail lights fading into the dark night. “Oh, right, you’re Chase.” She was surprised she remembered, and no, he wasn’t wearing a name tag.
His grin grew even broader as he studied her face. She suddenly felt exposed as his eyes drifted down to her cleavage. He’s probably about the same age as Mishti, she thought. She was equal parts flattered and appalled.
He glanced back up at her, then his smile faded. “Have you talked to Garrett since,” he paused for a moment, looked around, then whispered, “he was let go?”
Anjuli stiffened. “Uh...no?”
Chase shook his head, then ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Our amigo has had a tough week. I’m a little worried about him, to be honest.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Is he okay?”
“He’s barely left his room. And I think he’s drained the apartment dry of liquor. I haven’t taken any more home, even though he asked for some vodka. I don’t think it’s a real good idea at this point.”
She exhaled all the air in her lungs. Fuck. That was not what she wanted to hear. And yep, there was the guilt, seeping into her like water into a sponge.
“What can I do to help?” It was a question she posed all the time at work. She liked that it was straightforward, open-ended, and was generally a good place to start with her clients. She didn’t want to feel like Garrett was a client—after all, fucking clients was unethical—but...she’d gotten him into this mess.
“Maybe you could talk to him?” Chase suggested.
“I tried to text him, but he didn’t answer.” Anjuli noticed Chase had run her credit card and placed the receipt in front of her to sign. He put the two bottles of wine into a paper bag as she scrawled her name.
“Maybe you just stop by?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “Here, take my key. I don’t know if he will open the door.”
She started to take it, eager to make things right. Then she realized she was going to have to admit to Chase that she didn’t know where they lived. Awkward.
It was almost like he read her mind. “You know our place, right?” He smiled and rattled off the address.
“I’ve not been there, no—”
“Apartment 4C. Oh, I finally have it memorized,” he said, smiling. “I just moved in last week. You can park in my space if you want. There are two marked 4C in the lot. Mine should be empty.”
She took the key from him, smiled and thanked him for his help and the wine. I’ll have to take this back to my apartment before heading over there. Can’t show up at a drunk’s place with booze.
After stashing the wine in her apartment, she climbed into her car. What if he needs to go to the ER or something? she wondered as she turned her key in the ignition. She didn’t know Chase, obviously, so she had no idea if he was one to downplay a situation or to exaggerate, but she wanted to prepare herself for the worst.
It was only 7 PM, but the sun was setting behind her as she pulled out of her parking space and navigated to the address Chase gave her. Even with summer temperatures flirting with them, a change of seasons was on the way. There was no mistake.
She pulled into the empty 4C space and looked up at the brick building. Taking a deep breath, she locked her car and searched for the entrance to the building, which was under a canopy in the middle. Long tendrils of ivy trailed up the sides of the double glass door. She used the key to get into the lobby. Sure enough, along the wall of mailboxes, she saw the name Stone typed out on a tiny card over the box for 4C. Right beside Stone, someone had printed Alvarez. That must be Chase’s last name, she reasoned.
Garrett Stone was a total enigma. In the couple of weeks she’d known him, she’d learned virtually nothing about him except that he had only recently attained the title of “maintenance
guy” at the DuPont. And he had a brilliant voice. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him that after rehearsal the other night—she was too busy being frustrated with him for ignoring her call and texts. She couldn’t believe how good he was in the part of Billy Flynn. She had immediately wished he’d had the part all along instead of Clark Jones, who, as Scott had been quick to point out, she’d never liked much.
Every time she’d tried to ask Garrett about his life, he changed the subject. The only thing she knew of his past was that he’d grown up in Washington State and come out east for grad school. But she had no idea where he’d gone for his undergraduate degree or what his family was like. And she hadn’t pushed the issue, either, because virtually all of the time they’d spent together had been dedicated to exploring each other’s bodies.
She took the elevator to the fourth floor, her eyes darting down the hall in search for 4C. She stepped to the door and decided to knock first rather than just barge in. She stood waiting for a response, listening for any movement inside. There was nothing.
She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to use Chase’s key. She braced herself for what she would find on the other side of the door, holding her breath as she unlocked it and pushed it open with a loud creak. The hinges were in bad need of oil. If she had planned to sneak up on him, that plan had pretty much been foiled.
The apartment was small with a tiny kitchen on the left and a living room on the right. There was a worn brown leather sofa that sat three people, a bookcase full of textbooks and other non-fiction books—most of a political nature, she gathered from a single glance—and a rickety wood desk holding a laptop with a red canvas director’s chair pulled up to it. A flat-screen TV hung across from the couch, and there was a wide window on the far wall with the shade pulled down.
Beyond the two main rooms was a narrow hallway with three doors, one on each side and one at the end. She guessed the two on each side were the bedrooms. She pushed open the one on the right first, and it was empty. A whiff of a citrusy cologne infiltrated her nose, matching the scent she’d picked up at the liquor store. Must be Chase’s room.
The other door was shut, and she hoped not locked. She knocked lightly at first, waiting for a response like she had at the entry door. But like before, there was no answer or movement, no indication anyone was there. She’d seen a car in the other 4C space in the lot, so she assumed Garrett was there, unless he’d left on foot. Chase seemed fairly certain he hadn’t left and wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
She took a deep breath and turned the door handle. It was unlocked. The bottom of the door dragged across the carpet as she pushed it open wide enough to get a view of the room inside. A foul stench smacked her in the face. It was partially alcohol, which was not surprising, but the other part was a sort of indescribable staleness. It was the smell of someone giving up. She had smelled it on her clients before.
Garrett was sprawled naked across the bed, his ass toward the ceiling. She had almost forgotten there was an owl, wings spread and grasping a scroll in its talons, tattooed on his upper back. But there it was, and the owl’s huge round eyes stared at her, daring her to approach. “Garrett?” she questioned, letting the two syllables shatter the silence and float on the air as she stepped closer to the bed.
She lowered herself to the mattress and pressed her palm to his back, right over the scroll in the owl tattoo. His body still felt warm, and she let out a small sigh of relief. She stroked down his back, feeling his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. “Garrett?”
He didn’t move, not even a flinch. She leaned down, tilting her ear to his face to listen for breathing. She felt warm air hit her cheek. There was an empty bottle of vodka on top of his dresser, but that was it. She didn’t see anything else in his room except a pile of clothes in the corner. There was another bookcase filled top to bottom. That, the bed, and the dresser. Plus a little nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock. Charcoal gray sheets. It was so simple, masculine. She felt uneasy infiltrating his world like this, uninvited, when he was clearly incapacitated. She wondered how long he’d been passed out.
She laid a hand to his shoulder and prodded him gently at first, then a bit more aggressively until she finally elicited a groan. His breathing deepened, and then he blew a long breath out of his nose before his eyelids began to flutter open. “Anjuli?” he managed, even when his eyes were still thin slits between swollen purple lids.
“Chase let me in,” she explained. “I wanted to talk to you.”
His eyes were open wide enough now that she could witness an eyeroll. He worked on maneuvering himself to a sitting position, adjusting the sheet over the lower half of his body, where he was sporting a nearly impossible-to-miss erection. She struggled to ignore it, remembering she was here as a friend. Or a psychologist. She wasn’t sure which. Maybe a little of both? she decided.
“I got fired,” he told her. He opened his eyes long enough to look into hers, then he buried his face in his palms before rubbing his eyes and beard. It had grown even longer since she’d seen him last, and he hadn’t bothered to trim around it or groom it in any way.
“I know.” She crossed her legs on his bed and faced him. “Look, I wanted to apologize.”
Before opening his eyes again, he asked, “Apologize for what?” Then he lifted his head and turned his red-streaked eyes to her.
“For pushing you into doing stuff at the theatre. Distracting you from your job. If we hadn’t been in the green room together, I’m sure you’d still be—”
He waved at her dismissively. “Just save it, okay? I’m tired of blaming other people for my misfortune. I’m the loser who fucked up. I need to start admitting it.”
She furrowed her brows, confused. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and she waited for him to clarify. He stood up, his back to her as he stared out the window overlooking the parking lot.
“How did you find Chase?” he questioned.
“At the liquor store,” she answered, “but that’s not important. I want to know what you’re talking about...what misfortune?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look, Anjuli, you have no business being here. You’re a nice lady—and I’m not going to lie—you’re really fun in bed. But I’m a fucked-up asshole who has absolutely zero to offer you other than my cock. And since you’ve already made it clear you can’t limit your interests to just sex...I think you should go.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Would you stop already? You obviously need help, Garrett. Why are you pushing me away when I want to help you?”
“Because you feel a professional obligation to?” he fired back.
She stood and walked to him, wrapping her arms around his naked waist. He flinched at her touch, and it made her sad that he was so closed off, so unwilling to bare any part of what was inside. He has no problem baring the outside. Obviously.
“I do feel somewhat of a professional duty to help you,” she answered, “that’s true. But I also know you well enough to care for you, Garrett, as a friend. And talking to Chase tonight—well, he is worried about you too. So on behalf of both of us, will you please just tell me how I can help you?” She paused long enough to press a soft kiss against his back. “And then let me. Let me help you.”
Twelve
Those eyes are begging me. Is it any wonder I turned away? He couldn’t look at them while he continued to deny her help. He still didn’t understand why she would be interested in him. Chase either, except the fact he lived here, and living with a depressed drunk was probably no picnic.
“Garrett, please,” she pleaded. “Look at me.” She slid her hand down to his wrist and pulled him, trying to twist his body toward her.
He remained silent, studying the way the streetlights fell on the cars in the parking lot. He’d lost a whole day. He came home the day before after being fired and finished both the vodka and tequila, but Chase refused to bring him anything else. He’d passed out sometime before dawn and
apparently slept the entire day away. His head was pounding, his eyes felt raw, like he’d had sand in his eyelids while he slept. His throat was on fire. All he wanted to do was to take some painkillers and go back to sleep. Maybe he could wake up in a different body. Or on a different planet.
“Fine. Tell me what you’re going to do next, then,” she asked. It sounded to him like she was trying out the same schtick she used on her clients.
“I guess I have to get another job,” he answered, surprised he allowed the words to come out. He finally turned toward her, shaking his head at the unshed tears in her eyes. He wanted to wipe them away. But he’d put them there, so what was the point?
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” she said, a smile cracking her lips. “I don’t know what kind of background you have. What you’re good at. Maybe I can help you find something?”
Some of the walls crumbled as he sat down on the bed. I should just tell her the truth. Then she’ll realize what a loser I am and run away on her own.
“I was close to finishing my PhD at Hopkins when I got dismissed from the program,” he told her, scanning her face and waiting for shock to spread across it. Surprisingly, she remained stoic.
“What happened?”
“I had an...inappropriate relationship with a student,” he confessed, still waiting for judgment to contort her features.
He added, “She ratted me out apparently, threatened to sue the university.” He ran his fingers through his beard, then shook his head, still clearing the cobwebs of his long sleep away. “Yeah, yeah, I shouldn’t have been sleeping with a student. I get it. But trust me, it was consensual.”
Anjuli was still silent.
“So, I nabbed the job at the theatre to get me by until I figured out what I wanted to do. I think my academic career is shot.”
“Okay,” she finally uttered, but there wasn’t any judgment in her tone or on her face. “So, you’ll find something else for the interim. So you can make rent and all. But what do you want to do...like long-term, for a career?”
The Navigator (Mountains Series Book 5) Page 11
