by Ginger Scott
“Come on, you have to have faith,” I say, and Cody laughs. I push at him with my hand, his arm hard and warm under the softness of his sweatshirt. “What? There’s nothing wrong with being an optimist.”
He pushes back, and I think he’s mocking me at first, but he leaves his hand slightly on my arm. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ve just…well, let’s just say I’ve gotten used to Jim shitting all over me and my dreams; I might be a little jaded.”
I nod in understanding, but all I can think about is how close Cody’s hand is to mine, how we’re barely touching. And then he leans into me again, for the briefest moment—my body tremors.
“Your desk…” Cody says. He doesn’t know how to finish, and I don’t know how to begin. My eyes tear at just the mention of it.
“He was trying to be nice,” I say, swallowing hard on my emotions.
“Yeah, I know,” Cody says, finally giving in and reaching for my fingers now. At the slightest touch, I grasp for him, my hand hungry for his, and he holds it tightly, reassuring me. “Thing is, though, as much as I don’t do suits, neither do you, Charlie. And Trevor? He’s all suits, and ties, and…modern furniture.”
I close my eyes from the bright sun. I’ve told myself everything Cody is saying. But no matter what my heart wants, my head has me stuck. I feel responsible—loyal. “So, Trevor wants to go out tomorrow night, all of us, and celebrate your deal,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Oooooooh, where we going?” her voice is like a phone-sex line, and it’s so fucking disruptive, I actually jar my neck when I sit up with Cody to look at her. He’s on his feet in seconds, dusting off his jeans and moving toward Kyla.
“Sorry, I thought you’d be a while. I was just catching up with Charlie,” he says, almost like he feels guilty at getting caught with me—like he has something to hide.
Kyla holds up her schedule, I’m pretty sure just to brag about her fancy itinerary, and smiles. I take satisfaction in the smudge of lipstick on her teeth, until Cody notices it too, and actually reaches up and helps her find it. She proceeds to suck on his finger, and the entire scene has my stomach turning. I lay back and put my arm over my forehead.
“But I heard you say we’re going out tomorrow? Where? You know I don’t get done with my shoot until seven or eight,” she says, making our celebration for Cody all about her.
I’m so disgusted by her, that I can’t keep my silence. “Oh, well, I’m sure we’ll be able to work around your schedule. We wouldn’t want to celebrate Cody without you,” I say, logging away my mental notes to tell Jessie later.
“Oh, good. Thank you,” she says, and even though I’m still not looking at her, I can sense the bitchiness in her tone.
“Alright, well, just let me know the plans, Charlie. We’ll be there,” Cody says, and I can hear them walking off. I know he’s trying to separate us because I made it awkward. But right now, I don’t give a fuck. I came out here to be alone, to talk to Mac, and to cry over losing the only material thing left in my world that’s really anything like me. And if fake-tits and cherry-lips is offended, she can kiss my ass.
“Ta ta,” I say, almost enjoying my rare bout of swagger.
I’m so angry that I spend the next 30 minutes talking to Mac in my head about Cody and Kyla, mostly Kyla. Even though my blood is boiling and my pulse is shot through the roof, I’m thankful that I’m not feeling sad—at least for the time being. I know as soon as I go back to my bedroom and see the metal desk sitting where my dad’s used to, I’m going to feel like I’ve been sucker-punched all over again.
The clouds are moving in, and I know another storm is going to roll through tonight, so I don’t risk it this time and pack up my blanket to head back inside. I’m still muttering to myself when I hear my phone buzz. I pull it from my pocket and stop the second I see a text from Cody.
I know it hurts.
But there is more Mac in you than just some old piece of furniture—and you should show those parts off more often.
They’re…beautiful.
Chapter 15: This Is Charlie
It’s pouring.
No, scratch that. It’s sleeting.
The weather outside is miserable, and it’s felt like nighttime most of the day. Trevor came home late from drinks—I counted it a blessing, because I laid in my bed all night holding onto my phone, typing and deleting a response back to Cody’s text.
I fell asleep long before Trevor made it home, and I woke up well before him this morning. I escaped downstairs, hoping to see Cody at the backdoor, his empty mug for coffee in his hand. But his truck was gone, and I cringed thinking that there was a chance it never came home last night.
Not really wanting to spend the day pretending to love my gift from Trevor, I decide to work on my drawings of Cody’s shop some more. I fill up a travel mug with a fresh brew and leave Trevor a note on the counter. I’m not hiding from him; I’m just not waiting for him either.
Jake’s is all locked up when I arrive, and I’m almost surprised not to see Gabe in one of the bays working. His work ethic was admirable—he often put in more hours on a repair than Cody did. Jessie said it was because of how much he felt he owed Cody. But I also think a part of Gabe loves being here, working here, with his best friend.
Not wanting to get soaked, or ruin my drawings, I decide to make a workspace out of my front seat. I spread my pages on the dashboard and open my box of pencils. I’m inspired by the way the place looks in the rain, the lights off and the parking lot downright abandoned. I start to sketch, and my first few drawings are bleak, if not beautiful.
Then I’m struck with the idea; I make a copy of my first drawing, the very first one I did of the shop—with a little extra love and attention. I pump more color into the neon, freshen the greens of the garage, and brighten all the whites. I keep the rain in, but fill the parking lot with customers. It’s the ultimate before-and-after, and I realize I’ve drawn Cody’s dream.
I line the drawings up against my windshield, the rain blurring the background just enough that you can still tell what it is, and I take a picture with my phone.
I just finished these, and I thought you might like to see them.
I send them to Cody and hold my breath, hoping he’ll be pleased. My phone buzzes and I’m surprised by his quick response at first, then notice Trevor’s name. I don’t even deny the disappointment I feel.
Hey, are you still at the shop?
It takes me longer than it should to respond. I think about lying, but I decide against it.
Yes, but I’m coming home soon. No one is here.
My guilt makes me add the second part, reassuring Trevor that I’m alone.
Yeah, Cody’s here. We were just wondering when you’d be done. We’re going out to that new club in the city. I got us all reservations at a restaurant first, though. Think you can be ready to leave in an hour?
I’m envisioning driving off the road, crashing my car into a tree. Not crashing so hard that I hurt myself, just enough to inconvenience my evening, give me an excuse to avoid it all.
Yeah, I can do that. Be there soon.
I gather up the drawings and tuck them away inside a cloth in my bag to make sure they’re safe from the rain. I’m driving down my familiar route home when I have a sudden urge to stop at one of the large department stores at the mall on the way. I’m not much of a shopper—as is evidenced by my very dull and dated closet. But Cody’s words have been playing in my head all day.
“There’s more Mac in me…”
I wonder what those pieces are, and how do I uncover them?
I run from the parking lot into the nearest entrance and start to load up my arms with every outfit I see, honing in on the things that look nothing like me, or at least the me I’ve been. I frighten the meek assistant working in the women’s department with the sheer volume of garments I throw over her arms on our way to the dressing room. She seems a little nervous that I’m going to ask for multiple sizes of ever
y last piece I bring in.
The denim skirt with the cowboy boots is the first up. I like the look, it feels flirty and country—very Louisville—but it’s not me. The animal print dress is next, and that one just makes me laugh. Too Vegas!
Within minutes, my feet are buried in a sea of failed attempts, and I’m down to only a few more hangers. There’s a short black skirt with a sheer white blouse and an extremely tall pair of black heels. Normally, I’d shy away from the heels, because of my fear of falling and the height they would add to my already tall frame, but I’ve got a strange sensation brewing in my gut—I feel like this, this, might just be me.
I slide the skirt up and tuck the top in next. It’s sophisticated, but it also screams of sex appeal. It says that I’m confident, and that I’m not afraid. But it also says I’m mature and not out for games. I put the heels on last, and I turn to look at myself from all sides.
Oh my god, this is who I am!
I don’t even pull the tags off. I gather up the discarded items and pile them on the table outside the dressing room. I find my shy store clerk and ask her to cut the tags for me and ring me up. She’s raising an eyebrow at me, but I just peer down at her from my nearly five-inch advantage.
Two hundred dollars later, I’m back in my car, my hair a little moist from the dash back to my vehicle, but my blouse barely wet. I threw in a fake leather jacket at the last minute, and I’m glad, because my look won’t work tonight if it’s dripping from rain.
The humidity has my hair curling more than normal; I pull it loose from the knotted tie I had it in for most of the day and fluff it out around my shoulders. I work on my make-up at stoplights and finish off my lipstick in the driveway. I see Gabe and Jessie standing at the front door, and I recognize the Sumners’ car pulling up behind me. I feel my pulse kick up with nerves; I wasn’t aware that we were all going out together.
But I’m glad everyone is here. I want their reaction; I’m actually excited. Jessie’s walking over to me, so I take a deep breath and open my door to get out. When she stops in her tracks and grins ear-to-ear, I know I did good.
“Damn, girl!” she whispers, walking up to me and looking over everything. I pull the umbrella out quickly and tuck her underneath with me.
“This rain is going to wreck everything,” I say, opening the jacket a little to reveal the shear blouse underneath. I have a white silk shell on, but there already isn’t much left to the imagination. Adding water would be a lot like pornography at this point.
“The guys are going to shit themselves,” she says. “Especially one…if that’s why you did this?”
I smile at her and nod. I did do this for Cody. I mean, deep down I really did it for me, because I’m tired of not knowing who I really am. But I also had his text in mind. I want him to think I’m beautiful tonight, and I want him to say it—to me.
“Charlotte, what the heck are you wearing?” Trevor says. My face falls flat—both because of his reaction, and because he’s not the one I’m here to see. I breathe deeply and turn to look at him.
“You like it?” I say, spinning to the side just a little, careful to stay under my umbrella. “I just picked it up. I wanted to get something new, for tonight.”
I’m waiting for his response, but I’m also looking over his shoulder, waiting for Cody to turn around. They’re all gathered beneath the eve of the front door, and Kyla has her arm tucked firmly in his. She’s going to be tough competition tonight—her dress is a small, black, strappy one, and her stockings are fishnet. She looks like a Victoria’s Secret catalogue cover.
“You just don’t look very comfortable, that’s all. But we’re going to Mancini’s and then that new club, Six, so you should fit right in,” he says, turning back away from me to talk to the Sumners who have now made their way out to the driveway as well.
My stomach sinks. I start to pull my jacket around me tighter, biting my lip to keep it from quivering and to stop the cry I feel on the verge. I feel so stupid for thinking I could buy some clothes and become this different person. I look up and see Kyla’s long legs swaying with her walk toward me, and I feel even smaller. I don’t have a walk—I’m lucky to have survived the sprint from the store to the car.
Everyone’s getting in their cars, divvying up who’s driving whom. The Sumners decide to come with us, and I move to the passenger side so Trevor can drive. I’m standing there, holding my door, waiting to get in, while I watch Gabe and Jessie get in their car to follow Cody in his truck. He’s shutting the door for Kyla and walking around the front, swinging his keys in his hand—happy. He hasn’t even noticed me, and I feel foolish.
I reach up for the umbrella to close it while I get in, and just as I do, I catch Cody’s glance before he gets in the truck. He actually comes back out, mid-slide, and stands to face me. The rain is pelting his face and his leather jacket is taking the abuse, but he’s staring at me, and the way he’s staring at me completely fills my body with life. I lick my lips lightly, feeling self-conscience under his attention, and I can actually see him tremble. That small shake, that tiny quiver in his bravado, was worth the $200 and Trevor’s judgment. I let my eyes flit a little; I step into the car and shut the door—Cody taking in every single move.
I don’t hear a word of the conversation on the way to the restaurant. And the way the seating is set when we arrive, I’m not in Cody’s line of sight. I see Kyla stand and walk around the table for the restroom; she’s taking the long route, and I know she’s doing it on purpose. She wants everyone to see her. She makes the same trip on the way back; I can’t help but laugh when every single male at our table, and those next to us, stops to drool.
After dinner, we decide to walk the few small blocks to the club. It’s a full floor at the top of one of the city’s tallest buildings. Trevor helped with the contract during the build; one of his first contracts as an intern. He got to know the owners during the process, and that’s how he got us on the list for tonight. We’re all filing into a large elevator with several others, so we keep scooting to the back to make more room.
I have my hand on the rail, bracing myself, and trying not to hyperventilate from the amount of strange bodies crowding in around me. My hand stops when it runs into someone else’s, and I almost pull it away, afraid I’ve touched a stranger, when I realize it’s Cody. We both look at each other, and he slides his fingers over mine slowly, leaving a trail of fire along my skin.
Trevor is standing next to me, completely engrossed in his conversation with the Sumners, and on my other side Cody is melting my heart. I wish this elevator ride would never end, and despite what I am sure is a fire-code violation in capacity, I’m partly hoping it gets stuck for hours. The doors open, and Cody’s hand slides from mine. I almost cry out from missing it.
The club is noisy—not like any place I’ve ever been. Trevor usually takes me to dinner clubs, establishments that are more about money and making deals. This place is all about sex. The lights are flashing in all directions, and the throbbing music makes it almost impossible not to strut when you walk. Trevor shakes the hand of someone at the entrance, and we all get led to a huge booth near the back. Drinks are delivered in seconds, and I notice Kyla is quick to down two.
Trevor grabs my hand and pulls me to the corner of the booth to sit next to him; Kevin and his wife slide in at the other end. They start talking about cases and remodeling their home in Georgetown and whether or not they’re going to trade in their BMW for the Lexus. I look at Trevor, and he’s absolutely rapt in their conversation. This is how it always goes when we go out with a couple or meet at a club—I sit next to Trevor and smile and listen to banal conversation about status symbols. And I used to think I liked it, or at least didn’t mind it. But sitting here tonight, watching my friends move to the dance floor to feel careless, worriless—young—leaves me feeling trapped.
I’m practically squirming in my seat watching Kyla move her hands all over Cody. He’s watching her every move. How could he not? S
he looks like she does this for a profession, bending forward and arching her back, sliding her hand from his inner thigh, and then up over his zipper, almost into the front of his pants. He’s biting his lip looking at her.
I excuse myself to go to the restroom, and while I’m in there I make a silent pledge to try. When I come back to the table, I ask Trevor to dance with me, but he just looks at me strangely, and then peers out to the dance floor.
“It’s a little crowded. You know that kind of dancing isn’t really my thing. I’ll take you out next week, though, to our place,” he says, flashing me that smile that means everything is final. So I sit back down at the booth and pout.
I sip at my Jack and Coke, the sound of Trevor’s conversation almost melding into a hum in my ears, and I search again for Cody. I see Gabe and Jessie, and they seem so happy, so in love, and it makes my heart ache I’m so jealous. I finally spot Cody, and he’s still dancing with Kyla, but they aren’t touching for the moment. She’s busy putting on a show for everyone else. Cody’s watching, too, but for the first time tonight, he’s reachable.
I’m on my feet before I can talk myself out of it. “I’m just going to dance for a song or two, I’ll be right back,” I say over my shoulder to Trevor, who hardly turns to acknowledge me, just waving me off.
Jessie is the closest to me, so I slide in next to her first. I’ve never really danced much, so I feel awkward swaying to the music. I try to copy her moves, keep it simple, and when I finally feel like I’m not standing out, I spin around to her other side and get closer to Cody. Jessie smiles crookedly at me, and winks before she gives me a tiny shove, forcing me to bump into him. I flash my wide eyes at her and mouth her name, but quickly smile, thankful that she’s so bold.
