by Jess Bentley
“Penny? What’s up? How was it? Are you okay? Are you alone? Are you in jail? Do you need bail? I’m on my way!”
“Whoa, wait, stop,” I laugh. “Jeez. None of that. Did I wake you?”
“Wake me?” she repeats, as though the idea is preposterous. “Of course you didn’t wake me. I am making French toast for the little monster.”
“Oh, that sounds amazing,” I sigh, listening to my stomach immediately start to grumble. “How is he? How is his head?”
“Practically back to showroom finish,” she quips distractedly. I hear pots banging in the background.
“Seriously? Can I talk to him?”
“Yeah… In a minute. How was it? You haven’t said anything! Was it fun? Was he there?”
“Yes…” I repeat shyly.
“And was it amazing? Did he sweep you off your feet? Were you guys wrapped up in a shower of fairytale glitter and stuff? Is he naked in your bed right now?”
“Jesus, Wanda!”
“What! You just traveled halfway across the country to try to meet up with the man that got away. I just want an update. Is that so wrong?”
I take a deep breath, then pause. “He was… fine. He’s different.”
I’m not sure what to tell her. I probably shouldn’t ever have mentioned Clay at all, but his name has sort of come up from time to time. Maybe just as an excuse to keep from dating sometimes when Wanda was pressuring me. Maybe more than that. I don’t know. Now I wish I hadn’t said anything.
“Different how? Is he gay? Is he ugly?”
“No, definitely not ugly,” I answer, remembering him vividly. Those muscles under that suit, so unexpected! Where did those even come from? He used to be so shy, now he’s all strength and confidence. The guy I knew has disappeared, replaced with this.
“Penny? Are you still there?”
“Yeah! Sorry, just distracted. I think housekeeping is in the hallway.”
“So how is he different? Married?”
I shrug, trying to piece it together for her. “Well for one thing, he’s gorgeous. But he’s… He’s just not… He says he isn’t a commitment guy. He’s a ladies’ man now, or something.”
“Oh no!” she bawls. “He’s a douche! I’m so sorry! Your Prince Charming turned into a douche!”
“He’s not a douche, Wanda, he’s just a—”
“Man, that sucks,” she continues, undeterred. “You’ve been carrying a torch for him all this time, and now he’s just some sleazy asshole in southern Illinois. What a bummer.”
“Wait, I didn’t say—”
“Did he even mention the pact?”
I swallow uncomfortably. “Well, no.”
“No,” she repeats. I can hear the judgment in her voice.
“I think he forgot.”
“He forgot.”
“Wanda, you can’t just keep repeating everything I say back to me. It’s freaking me out.”
“Okay, how about this: he’s a douche!”
“Oh, come on,” I sigh.
“Some guys, it just comes out eventually! They just go full douche! There is nothing you can do!”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I interrupt, getting louder. “So, hey! Listen! I called you for reason, okay? Are you there?”
“Yeah, okay. What?”
I take a deep breath. “Listen, there’s a development out here. It’s up for auction. Tax foreclosure or something. I’m thinking about…”
“Penny?” I hear her stop what she’s doing and really listen. “A development? Out there?”
“Yeah… so, eighty-something units, infrastructure is in, models are up, and nothing’s happening. It’s right off the highway.”
“Wait… are you talking about buying your own development? Being your own developer?”
“I know it’s a stretch, okay? But I’m never gonna get anywhere with Nathan, and I know how to run the project, and some good clean living in middle America couldn’t hurt for Ethan.”
“Fuck yeah, girl!” Wanda hoots triumphantly. “Get it, girl! You know I am behind you 100 percent! Whatever you need, I will totally back you.”
“No, I don’t need you to back me,” I answer in a rush. “I’m not asking you for money, just advice. A development out here? Can I really do that?”
She sighs just a little bit, plainly frustrated. Wanda has offered to help me a hundred times, and I always turn her down. I don’t want to be someone who ruins a friendship over money. I just don’t.
“You can absolutely do it,” she says sincerely, sweetly. “Nobody has instincts like you, Penny. You’re the best. It’s time everybody knew that. Go do it.”
I do a little silent fist pump in the air, swelling with confidence.
“Yes! Thank you, Wanda. I just needed some of your pep talk magic. Can I talk to Ethan?”
“Oh, he’s gonna have to call you back. I think he went to the shower or something. Go be a badass, Penny! Call me later and tell me what happens!”
“Okay!” I say, swallowing my disappointment that Ethan didn’t wait around to talk to me. I guess it is normal teenage boy things, but still.
All the way to the courthouse, I cartwheel through mental math exercises. If I spend 80 percent of my savings, I’ll have enough left over to do investor presentations. If I spend any more than that, I will be in trouble. Maybe, magically, it’ll be more like 60 or 70 percent, and I’ll be able to do some real work. Maybe, if I am a very lucky girl, one of those units is already close to livable.
Maybe all the stars will align.
The woman at the registration takes my earnest money check and scowls at it, then hands me a slip of paper with a bidder number on it. I’m tempted to ask her how it all works, but she has a sour look on her face so I just take my ticket and shuffle off.
A small crowd of people stand in front of the auctioneer, a bored-looking man in a too-tight polo shirt and gray trousers. Just like the old days, we really are on the county courthouse steps. He has eight properties to auction, and the first ones give me an idea of how the process works.
It’s just like a TV auction: he starts the bidding at a dollar amount, say twenty-five thousand dollars for a house the county owns, and the bidders raise their hands to indicate that they want to bid on the property until someone wins it.
When he finally gets to the development, I am ready to go. About half the crowd has wandered off, clearly done with the items they were interested in. There’s just a few of us, and I keep my eyes fixed on the auctioneer, eagerly anticipating the first bids.
To my dismay, the starting bid is already most of what I have saved. I raise my hand anyway and he points at me to acknowledge that I have the winning position.
Two seconds later, another man outbids me. He doubles my bid, completely obliterating anything I could have done. I’m crushed, until I look over and see Ron in a purple tracksuit, nodding with satisfaction. He glances over to me and raises his eyebrows, shrugging apologetically.
“The item is sold!” the auctioneer announces. “That concludes this month’s auctions. Please proceed to the registrar to complete your sales.”
“That’s it?” I mutter to myself, completely deflated.
“Shit, was that you?” Ron asks, taking me aback by the sincere look of apology on his face. “You didn’t say anything… I didn’t even know you were looking at Crosswind, Penny.”
I shake my head, confused. Why is he being nice? Maybe I forgot, and this is some kind of Midwestern thing? I’ve never had a competitor apologize for beating me before.
“No, it’s all right, Ron,” I smile gamely. “It was really a long shot, anyway. Just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
He scratches his bald spot contemplatively. “I’m totally surprised to see you here, sorry. I don’t even know what to say! It’s actually kind of cool… Did you have plans for it? Is your company looking to expand or something? I pretty much have this region locked up in a lot of ways, but if you were looking…”
Suddenly
, a completely crazy idea occurs to me. Completely insane.
“Ron, what if I were looking? I have a lot of ideas for this development.”
He shrewdly raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying you would consider it? Even relocating?”
I shrug nonchalantly. I don’t want to seem too eager, and I am not 100 percent convinced that working for Ron would be a walk in the park. It might not be any more productive than working for Nathan, but it certainly would be simpler than trying to start a brand-new business on my meager finances, I have to admit.
“For the right project, I might be convinced,” I suggest.
He pantomimes surprise, rocking back and smirking. “Well, that is good news! What if I talked to the hiring manager?” He pivots to one side, pretending to talk to an invisible person while I try to control my eye-rolling reflex. “Okay! You’re hired!”
“What are we talking about? Who’s hired?”
I practically flinch, startled. Clay walks up to us with Starbucks cups in his hands, and my mouth goes dry as the words turn to dust on my tongue. He squints at Ron accusingly.
“Dude, you’re never going to believe what just happened.”
Chapter 11
Clay
The only place there is ever traffic in this county is near the county buildings. It’s not that I am the most punctual person in the world, but I do not want to be late today.
The girl at the Starbucks drive-through is awfully nice, practically leaning halfway out the window to give me my drinks. Her eyes slide up and down the lines of the Jag with longing. I almost hear her sigh.
“You going to church?” she flirts.
“Not likely, sweetheart,” I answer before driving off, leaving her open-mouthed.
I shouldn’t be rude, but another twenty-something with eyes for my car? I don’t think so. Next time I won’t even let that kind of nonsense in the door.
I spot Ron in his lucky purple tracksuit all the way from the parking lot. He’s got his feet planted, rolling his beer belly back and forth while he waits for his moment. He looks like one of those guys you see at the racetrack, waiting for his horse to get to the starting gate.
As I’m climbing the steps, a dark flash catches my eye. A light breeze ruffles a wave of silky dark hair out to the side like a banner, and time comes to an abrupt stop.
What is Penny doing here?
Even though I’m still far away, I can practically read her mind by the expressions that flash across her features. She’s nervous, expectant. Calculating. She raises her hand—is she bidding? And then I see her shock, her disappointment, and notice Ron rowing his arms triumphantly.
Oh no, this can’t be good.
They don’t see me walk up. They’re negotiating something, I can tell.
“You’re hired!” I hear Ron say.
That can’t be possible.
“What are we talking about?” I interrupt. “Who’s hired?”
“Dude, you are not going to believe what just happened!” Ron marvels.
Penny turns to me in slow motion, startled, alarmed. She draws breath to gasp and I automatically hand her the coffee. I don’t know why—it just seems like I should give her something.
“Sorry… I didn’t realize you’d be here. I hope you still drink cappuccino.”
“Y-Yes,” she stammers. “I do. Thank you.”
Those eyes—so clear. I know they’re supposed to be windows to the soul, but hers really are. She’s off-balance now.
“Penny is going to be working for you on the Crosswind project, Clay,” Ron announces triumphantly.
“Wait…” she interrupts, catching her bearings. “Working for him? I thought you meant—”
Ron shrugs, confused. “Well, sure. Just until you get your feet wet, of course. I’m sure you can do the job, but I can’t just take my best project manager out of it. I’m sure you understand that.”
She chews the inside of her cheek fretfully. I don’t know what her plan was, but this doesn’t seem to be going smoothly for her.
“And this job. It pays…?”
Ron shifts from foot to foot, glancing around uncomfortably. “I guess I could start you at forty-five.”
“What?” she gasps. “Ron…”
Ron looks appalled. “Okay, fifty-five? But that’s it. And you better be awesome.”
“Ron, I don’t even see how I could relocate on that. I don’t know what the housing market is like out here. But I know in New York, sixty-five wouldn’t get me a storage space, much less a house. I can’t get another place to live right now.”
“Ha! You should just live with Clay,” Ron laughs, turning to me with a desperate look on his face. “He’s got that giant mansion. And then you can have one of the Crosswind units as soon as they’re done. How about that? Would a housing stipend seal the deal for you?”
“Um, what now?” I interrupt.
“Well, didn’t you guys used to be roommates?” Ron continues desperately. “Come on, it will be like old times!”
“I really could use an assistant,” I smirk, then wish I could take it back when I see her flinch. “I mean… Forget I said that. You would not be an assistant. That was a joke.”
She smiles tightly, obviously not sure it was a joke at all. But I can see that do-or-die look on her face. Why is she so into this idea? She seems different. The Penny I used to know was not a big compromiser. She always had an idea in her head and drove toward it at breakneck speed, without even stopping to sightsee. Or looking at road signs. Or learning how to drive.
“Listen… Can we just try it? If you have room? We can make it work.”
This is really a surprise. I wonder what she is up to?
“Yeah,” I smile. “Let’s just try it.”
“Excellent!” Ron crows. “We are totally getting the band back together!”
He shuffles off after the registrar waves frantically at him, so he can finish his deal. Penny draws the coffee up to her lips, pursing them and blowing gently into the hole in the lid.
“Is this yours?” she asks shyly. “Did you give me your coffee?”
“Just a lucky guess,” I shrug, though honestly I could use the caffeine boost.
Watching her blow into the lid is sort of nice, though.
“Still a gentleman,” she muses as she sips. “I guess some things don’t change, after all.”
By her glance, and the way she enunciates “don’t change,” I can tell she expected something different.
“I’m still a Midwestern boy, I suppose,” I add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
She raises her eyebrows in challenge. “Oh yeah? The same boy I knew is in there somewhere? Behind the hair products and fancy car?”
Wincing, I just cover it up with a shrug. “You can’t outrun your roots. But the hair was in my genes, Pen. There wasn’t anything I could do about that.”
She squints at me. “Sorry… that was rude, I guess. I actually like your hair like this, shorter, and with a touch of grey. You look… I don’t know.”
Somehow, I’m eager to know. I really would like to have this information. “What do I look like?”
She sips thoughtfully, pursing her lips as her cheeks redden from the steam.
“I guess… I don’t know!” she finally blurts out, laughing. “Like… different, okay? Grown. Grown up.”
Nodding, I try to act the part. I feel a little stupidly flattered, as though this compliment, buried in giggles and diversions, is the most real thing I have heard in a long time.
“Grown-ass man, that’s me,” I joke as we begin to head toward the wide, concrete steps.
“Ladies’ man,” she corrects me, though I can hear a sour undertone.
“That’s just Ron, trying to be funny,” I reply, trying to blow it off.
I didn’t like it when he said it, and I’m not thrilled that it stuck with her. Makes me sound sort of ridiculous. Who would call themselves that?
Just before we reach the parking lot, she turns
to me, wrinkling her nose. “Clay… you have to be honest. Is this going to be okay?”
I suddenly realize I hadn’t given it a second thought. As soon as Ron made the suggestion, it seemed set in stone.
“Well, I do have plenty of room,” I shrug. “Do you want to come see the place now? Sundays aren’t busy for me.”
Her gaze is far off. Shrouded.
“No, I mean… we haven’t seen each other in a long time. All of a sudden I’m right in your space? Working with you? Are you sure about that?”
“Oh,” I answer slowly. “Well, we did it before. Living together, I mean. I’m sure it will come back to us. You can have your own bathroom this time and everything. Let’s take a ride and you can pick it out.”
She presses her lips together.
“I… can’t,” she mutters, then sighs heavily. “I have to fly back to Albany in a couple hours. I have to convince Ethan that this is as great an idea as I think it is.”
Again she meets my eyes, and the connection is perfect. I’m practically downloading her whole mental state. I know exactly who Ethan is, without even asking.
“He’s welcome too. I’ve got a pool.”
She pauses, furrowing her brow and shaking her head slightly. “Wait… that’s it? That’s all you want to say? That you have a pool?”
“I’ve got a ping-pong table too. Is that what you’re looking for?”
She raises her hands and then lets them fall against her thighs. “Clay, I don’t know what to say. Thanks, I guess? Thanks a lot?”
I shrug. “That’ll do it. So… I’ll see you when you get back into town? Soon?”
She looks around, plainly confused, but I don’t know why. This is the easiest decision I’ve made in a long time.
“Okay, sure. Thanks again,” she says, then holds her key fob in the air and presses the button, looking for the car that’s chirping. A rental, I guess.
I don’t know why she’s making a big deal out of this. A son? Sure, that was a surprise but not a surprise. Not like she told me she had a freezer full of heads or anything. It’s been a long time. I’m sure we’ve both changed in some ways.
But hey, it does sort of feel like we’re getting the band back together.
