by JA Huss
“Why are you being so… so freaking nice?”
I laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
“If you remind me how much I paid for you again—”
“I won’t,” I say, putting up a hand. “Jesus. What do you do, Emma? For real. Day-to-day kinda thing. Because it must be super stressful. You need to relax a little. Maybe we should go get that couples’ massage? I think you need it more than I do.”
She lets out a long breath, then immediately sucks in another one and holds it. That breath has to come out eventually, so I wait her out. Finally, she exhales and says, “Sorry. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting you to be so…”
“Nice?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her. “And that’s not a waggle,” I say, pointing to my forehead. “It’s just a… surprise.” I stare at her for a moment. “That you had some kind of preconceived opinion of me before this date.”
She turns her head away and mumbles, “Well, you do have quite the reputation.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a seat on the table and placing my feet on the bench. I point to my coat next to my feet. “Come on. Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
She sits. Stiffly, for a moment. Then leans back against the table and begins to lick her ice cream again.
“So what have you heard about me?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m sure you know.”
“Yeah… but I haven’t been that guy for a while now. Not since my father died.”
She glances up at me, then quickly averts her eyes.
“I admit I was kind of a jackass when I was younger.”
“And now you’re not?” she asks, still looking forward. There’s a group of little boys in uniform showing off about a dozen feet away. For Emma’s benefit, obviously. They roughhouse and joke, laughing as they shoot her shy looks.
Kinda cute.
“Not gonna answer that?” Emma says.
“No. I mean, yeah. No. I’m not that guy anymore.”
“It’s been my experience that people don’t change much.”
“Hmm,” I say, still watching the little boys.
“So how have you changed?”
I shrug. Eat my ice cream. Think about shit. “I guess, you know. I’m not so angry anymore, maybe.”
“Angry? Why were you angry?”
“I get it,” I say, not looking at her. “People think that because of who I am, and what I have, and especially what I had growing up, that things are just perfect. But no one’s life is perfect. I’m sure you know that, right?”
“My life is pretty perfect.”
“Hmm. Well, good for you then.”
She turns her body towards me, looks me in the eyes. “No, really. I’m interested. Why were you angry? And what changed?”
“Well”—I chuckle a little—“that’s like my life story. Kinda long, and boring, and… personal. But I can give you the bullet points.”
“OK. I’m listening.”
“Well, give me a second. Because setting up my life in bullet points isn’t that easy.”
“Take your time. I’ll wait.” She licks her ice cream. Almost smiles at me.
“Let’s see… how much can I tell you…”
“Oh, family secrets, huh?”
“Kinda. But also… people, ya know. They would kill to know some of our secrets.”
“Our, meaning your family?”
“Yeah. Well, we don’t really look the part, do we?”
“What part?”
“White collar. And that’s because we’re not. Not really. My dad grew up as the son of a plumber.”
“Get out of here. Your father was one of the richest men in the world when he died.”
Died. He didn’t die. He was murdered. But of course, that’s hardly first-date material so I don’t expand.
“We came from the north side of the city back in his day. My whole family, before my dad and uncle came along, were all plumbers. But my grandfather made them both go to college. It was a change-the-fate-of-the-family kind of move.”
“Well,” she huffs. “That worked.”
“Yeah, it did. But when you come from a blue-collar family and then suddenly you’re white collar, living in a huge mansion, buying cars, and racehorses, and”—I nod my head towards the road—“lake houses, it’s weird, ya know.”
“I do,” Emma says. “I come from humble beginnings. You’re a generation ahead of me, actually. I guess I’d be your father in this scenario.”
“Yeah. So you get it. But maybe your family wasn’t so… let’s say inclined or maybe just leaning… towards a life of crime?”
She laughs. And this is her first real laugh of the evening. “What?”
“Yeah. We’re kinda dirty.”
She raises her eyebrows at me.
“Is that a waggle?” I ask. “Are you innuendo-ing me?”
“What? No.” And then she laughs again.
“I’m just checking.” And then I smile. An honest, genuine, happy smile.
I like her. I know we’ve met before, I just can’t figure out where or when.
“Dirty how?”
“You know how,” I say. “Do you need me to spell it out? Because I can’t. Sorry. Some things just don’t get said, if you get my meaning.”
“Family secrets,” she says, nodding.
“Right. So as I was saying, my life looked like one thing but it was really something else entirely.”
“Your dad, he did dirty deals?”
I nod. “You could say that.”
“And did you and your brothers get caught up in it?”
“I guess. I mean, I had it the easiest because I’m the youngest. Johnny knows way more about that shit that happened when we were young than I do. Joey knows some. I only know the outcomes.”
She’s squinting at me now. “Outcomes?”
“Yeah. When my uncle ‘died’—” I shove the last part of my ice cream cone in my mouth and do air quotes, then chew and swallow before I continue. “He didn’t just die. Right.”
More raised eyebrows from Emma. “Someone killed him.”
I nod. Not gonna admit that in words, but yeah.
“And your father? Same thing?”
I nod again.
“Wow.” She looks away and says it again. “Wow. OK. Yeah. That’s news to me.”
“So people maybe jumped to some conclusions about me when I was young. Not that I didn’t give them a reason. For sure, I was a dick. Total fucking dick. But I was just caught up in shit I didn’t understand and had no power to change.”
“So… what did change? You, so you say. But why? How?”
“When my dad died Johnny came down to my floor—”
“I’m sorry. Your floor?”
“Yeah. That building we live in? Downtown? Well, the top five floors are like… our house, I guess. My dad had the penthouse, Johnny has the floor below, then Joey, and I’m on the one below him. Then below me was the family floor.”
“Wait,” Emma says. “You didn’t all live together?”
“When I was a kid we did. On the family floor but never the penthouse. That was just my father’s offices. But after my uncle died we were all moved to separate floors. My dad said it was for security and then I just never went down to the family floor again.”
“What?”
“I know, it’s weird. But anyway, Johnny came down to my floor to break the news and I was…” I stop to picture that day. “I was so drunk, so high from the night before that…” I stop and sigh. “I laughed.”
“Why?” Emma asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Because I was high and drunk and I didn’t understand what he was telling me. And then he beat the fuck out of me.”
“Oh,” Emma says. “Like a real beating? Or a—”
“No, it was real. My face was so swollen the next day I barely recognized myself.”
“What a dick,” she says, taking my side.
And I have to admit, that feels nice. “I des
erved it,” I say. “That was my rock bottom, I guess. Things had to change. Not only because our dad was gone and we had to figure shit out, but because if I didn’t, I was gonna lose everything. Not the money, either. There’s so much fucking money now, I don’t even know if it’s possible to lose it all. I was going to lose Zach.” I glanced at Emma and frown. “He came home that day and saw me, still all strung out. And he had this look on his face. Like I was the biggest disappointment ever.”
Emma nods. Says nothing.
“And Zach is pretty much the only person in the world I never wanted to disappoint. He looked up to me after his dad died and I took over raising him.” This is the first time I’ve said that out loud. Probably the first time I actually articulated that’s what I did. But I raised him. “He was the little brother I never had. But he was more than that. I felt like… responsible for him, somehow. And I didn’t like that look he gave me that day, so”—I shrug—“I took a step forward and started to learn how to live without the drugs and the drinking.”
Emma has turned her entire body towards me now. Practically leaning into my legs, she’s so intrigued by this conversation. “Wow.”
I nod. “Wow. But that’s only half the story. Because this was the second time I tried, but the first time I succeeded.”
She shoots me a questioning look.
“My uncle,” I remind her. “The day he died I was…” I think for a moment. “God, where was I? That sounds dumb but… I was pretty hungover that day too. Just having a good time and shit. All suntanned and golden fresh from months of yachting, and racing, and partying. I bribed my university to graduate me early. Told them I’d donate a building and they went for it, so”—I shrug—“that whole spring I was just celebrating, you know.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I know.”
And she says it in such a way that I get the feeling she really understands me.
“But Johnny showed up. Found me somehow. Told me Uncle Chuck was dead. Oh, hey,” I say, pointing at her. “I know where I was. The Keys! I was on Key fucking West.”
Then I stop to think about that for a second. But it’s all kinda blurry.
“Key West, huh?” she asks.
I snap out of my memories and say, “Yeah. But a few hours later I was back in the city. Doing my best to sober up fast enough to deal with Zach’s realization he was now an orphan.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, then whispers, “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. Kinda crazy.”
And under most circumstances, talking about this shit would send me spiraling into a bad mood. Maybe even a depression. Maybe even the old me.
But talking about it with her?
It’s different.
Somehow, it’s different.
CHAPTER NINE - EMMA
I think I need a moment.
I might need an entire lifetime to grasp what Jesse just told me.
“Processing, huh?” he says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Processing.”
“Don’t think about it too hard. I did that for way too long and it got me nowhere. Now that I’ve stopped life has gotten considerably easier.”
“How?” I ask.
“Well, I’m not focused on negative shit, you know. And—”
“No. How the hell do you just… not think about it? If someone killed my father and my uncle, Jesus. I’d be scarred for life, I think.”
“I take it you come from a somewhat normal family?”
“I guess. Yeah, I guess.”
“Your parents still together?”
“Yeah.”
He nods. “That makes a huge difference. At least, I think so. If my mom had been around when I was little I probably—maybe, possibly—could’ve skipped that long asshole, dick-face phase I went through as a teenager and after college.”
“What happened to your mom?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
“Just…” He shrugs. “Disappeared, I guess. I have no actual memories of her. Not one. Not even a picture.”
“Did your dad destroy them? I mean. I don’t understand. Not one picture? Not even when you were born?”
He shakes his head. “We had a few nannies when I was little. But not after I turned five.”
“Five?” Jesus Christ.
“Yeah. So that would’ve made Johnny seven, and Joey six. I guess my dad figured we could handle shit by then.”
I just stare at him.
He laughs, then places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Don’t look at me like that. It was fine.” Then he points to my ice cream cone, which is only half-eaten because I got so caught up in his story. “You gonna eat that?”
I look down at the cone. It’s melting all over the napkin. “Nah,” I say. “I’m done.”
“I’ll take it.” And then he takes it. And winks at me. And stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. He chews and swallows, then says, “I like butterscotch too, but I didn’t want you to think I was copying.”
He smiles.
Motherfucking smile of all smiles is what he’s beaming down at me.
“You’re… not what I expected.”
“I guess that’s a good thing?” he says. “Seeing as how you were kinda mean to me until I changed our future with ice cream cones.”
I try not to smile back. I bite my lip to keep it hidden. It doesn’t entirely work. “Sorry,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. Shy like the girl I was before Bright Berry Beach Cosmetics. Back when I knew this man and he was just a boy. “I guess I came on this date with a few preconceived notions.”
“A few?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Please. You thought you knew me, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, do you know me?”
“What?”
“I feel like we’ve met before. It’s just… I’d have remembered a girl like you. So I don’t get where this is coming from.”
“I’d have remembered a guy like you, too,” I say. Then regret it. Then don’t regret it. Then regret it again.
I liked him back then. I really did. Faults and all. But if I had known he was this guy underneath? And he didn’t walk out on me with no reason, or warning, or explanation? I would’ve been way more devastated.
I would not have been angry, I would’ve been sad.
And I’m not sure sad would’ve gotten me here. To this place, as this woman, with this company, and enough money in the bank to throw away ten million dollars on a second chance.
Hold up, Emma. What the fuck are you talking about? This is no second chance! This is a goddamned kidnapping!
“So,” Jesse says, standing up and tossing our napkins into a nearby trash can. “Wanna continue? Or have I really scared you off now?”
“What?” I say, just staring at him.
“Our date? Or are you done? I won’t blame you if you’re done. Hell, if some strange dude just told me that story on our first date, I’d be done too.”
“First date,” I say. “Is there a second one lined up I don’t know about?”
He sucks in a breath of air, shrugs, then says, “Maybe? I hope so. Because I don’t know what it is about you, Emma Dumas. But I feel like we’ve been here before. Not this place or time, obviously. But you feel so familiar. And I like you. So…”
“I was mean,” I say.
“I know. I like that too. For some odd reason I find it charming.”
“I bought you,” I say.
He nods. “Yup. You bought me.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He points his finger at me. “I know. But. I feel like I do. So what do you say? Wanna go up to my lake house and talk some more? Maybe figure out where we know each other from?”
“You’re so sure we do?” I ask.
He nods. “I just know it. We’ve met before. And I’m dying to know why I walked away. Because that makes no sense to me.”
“Me either,” I mumble.
He laughs and extends his hand. “Come on. Let’s blow this place. I can’
t take the competition. Those little boys are gonna start pulling your hair and calling you names to get your attention if we stay here any longer.”
I take his hand. I know I shouldn’t. I know with every fiber of my being that I should not take his hand.
But I do it anyway.
And yup. Sure enough, those sparks I felt back when I was eighteen… they’re back. Stronger than ever. It’s like the past thirteen years didn’t happen. It’s like that was some alternate reality. Some other path not taken. And this is the real path we took. Us. Together. This whole time. Never been apart since.
He leads me over to the car, opens the passenger side, and waits for me to get in before closing it and walking around to his side.
When he closes his door he pauses. Then looks at me and says, “Here, let me help you with that, Emma,” as he reaches over my legs and pulls my seatbelt across my lap. Clipping it into the buckle.
But he pauses, tilts his head up to mine until our eyes meet.
And then he kisses me.
And I kiss him back.
And we taste like butterscotch-cherry and vanilla-chocolate.
His tongue is cool as he tangles it with mine. And his lips are soft.
And he pulls back too fast, but slowly too. Easing back into his seat. Staring at me.
Then he smiles, turns on the car, puts on his seatbelt, and backs out of the Tastee-Freez.
CHAPTER TEN - JESSE
Everything is different now.
Funny how that can happen. One pit stop at the Tastee-Freez and a little bit of truth goes a long way toward earning goodwill.
Zach has been telling me this for ages. Hell, everyone has been telling me this for ages. Not the ice cream and truth, but the act of being genuine, I guess.
I just never really saw it in action before tonight.
Because for sure, Emma Dumas had a chip on her shoulder when she first got in my car and now… I glance over at her. She’s staring out the window again, but everything about that stare is different. For one, she’s smiling. Just a little. Just barely. But it says a lot.
Now… everything is better.
This lake where all the city rich people come for the summer is huge. Very, very big. But every house comes with a pretty nice bit of land too. Ours has twenty-five acres attached to it. I think most of the lots are that size. Some of them are only ten, and there’s a few that have sixty or more acres. So even though there are like two hundred homes on this lake, they are spread out and well-treed. You can’t see anyone from our backyard but the glimmer of lights across the way.
