Sleeping with Randy before revealing that I’m almost two months pregnant with his child is going to make it that much harder to tell him. Not to mention we’re now going to be business partners. I shake my head.
I dig in my purse for my cell phone. My hand rummages through lipstick, wallet, house keys, and loose receipts.
“Fuck!” I pound the steering wheel.
I left it at Randy’s.
14
Randy Cousivan
She’s gone. I swing my feet over the edge of the bed to sit up. I snicker as I rub my eyes, thinking about Gina. It’s just like her to sneak out without saying good-bye. She’s always been hard to pin down. At least she could’ve shaken me awake to give me a kiss or talk business for five minutes. I’m still in the dark here. Not to mention fifty thousand short.
Suddenly, there’s a chime that sounds like rumba music. I look around my room. My phone is sitting quietly on the top of the dresser. I stand and walk over to the other side of the bed. Half of a cell phone in a red case is poking out from under the bed. I pick it up and open it. The caller’s name is Nom. That’s what Gina calls her friend Naomi. I know her. I consider letting it go to voice mail, but I know how close the two are. Naomi might see Gina sometime today, and maybe she could let her know her phone is here.
I tap the answer button. “Hello, Naomi?”
“Um, yes, who is this?”
I tell her it’s me and that Gina left her phone at my house.
“At your house?” She sounds surprised—very surprised.
“She was here last night.”
“Oh.”
The line falls silent.
“I hope she realizes that she doesn’t have it, but if you see her before then, could you let her know it’s here?”
“I will, but…”
I wait for her to finish, but she says nothing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I really need to talk to her now. She’s, um, I’m um, representing her in a deal.”
It finally dawns on me that Naomi is practicing law these days. I overheard them talking about it a while back. “Are you representing her in the purchase of the Calypso?”
“Yes! She told you?”
I crack a smile. “Yeah. We decided to actually do it together.”
“Oh?” She sounds extremely surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I kind of… okay,” she says as if she’s coming to grips with what I’ve revealed. “I mean, you two bicker an awful lot. Are you sure?”
I twist my jaw. I’ve been wondering in the back of my mind why I’d offer to go into business with Gina. What the hell was I thinking? She’s contentious as hell. If I say east, she’ll say west. If I go left, she’ll go right. Sometimes I can’t see why in the hell I’m so attracted to her. Of course, she’s hot. But hot’s not just it. No, she’s more than hot. She’s beautiful. She’s smart, too, and can think fast on her feet. God, does that turn me on. I can usually make a face and give my voice an intimidating tone, and people will dance to my tune, but not Gina. I can go to hell for all she’s concerned. That makes me want to take her until I can’t get enough of her, and so far, that hasn’t happened. It seems I can never get enough of her. When she told me that she bought the Calypso and planned to remodel and reopen it, I got excited. After I was declared the winner of the competition, my agent, Dana Simpson, suggested that I work fast to find somewhere to make great food because people are going to flock to whatever restaurant I choose to work in. The winner only receives a hundred thousand dollars, which is not much to start a restaurant, especially in LA or New York. And I battered my reputation so much that no one’s going to want to invest in me until I’ve had a lot more time to prove I’m no longer the drunken, belligerent, and egotistical prick I used to be.
My decision to jump into business with Gina was twofold. First, I wanted to be closer to her. Second, being part owner of the Calypso Café sounds like a great opportunity to vindicate myself. As winner of the show and someone with extraordinary expertise, I could make Gina and me successful.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, finally answering Naomi’s question.
She exhales long as though she is resigning herself to our decision. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’ll need some information from you along with half of your payment wired to an account before the end of the day. Is that something you’re able to do?”
“Sure.” I’ve already thought about the money. I need forty more to make it an even split. My cousin Jeremy has it. I’ll ask him for a loan.
I scratch the back of my neck even though it doesn’t itch. The doorbell rings, and I have a feeling I know who it is. “Can you give me a second?”
“Yes,” Naomi says.
I go to the front door and open it. “Gina’s right here,” I say.
All of a sudden, Gina’s vulnerably wide eyes narrow to slits. “Is that my phone?”
I hand it to her. “It’s Naomi.”
She snatches it out of my hand. I look at her. I want to make her give it back and ask for it nicely, without disrespect.
“Naomi,” she says, hugging the phone to her ear.
For a second, I feel like slamming the door on her and telling her to take her deal and shove it up her sexy ass, but I know that won’t do me any good.
Gina says, “Uh-huh” repeatedly and nods. She scowls at me when she says, “Yes, we are.” Then she rolls her eyes. “I understand.” She turns away from me and whispers, “You’re the one who suggested someone who knows the business.”
Gina glances at me. I grin, knowing that she really didn’t want me to hear that.
After a moment, she says, “We’ll be there.” She nods as she listens. “Got it.” Pause. “Got it. I’ll tell him. Text me the account information, and I’ll send it to him.” Pause. “Perfect. See you there.”
Gina effortlessly tells Naomi that she loves her before hanging up. I feel a pinch of envy, and I’m shocked because I didn’t expect it. But why am I envious? Is it because I want Gina to effortlessly say that she loves me? Maybe I want to say it to her! But am I ready for real love?
Gina snaps her fingers. “Randy.”
I blink. “What is it?”
“Where did you just go?”
She grimaces as if she’s concerned. But certainly, I’m not going to tell her any of the shit that was going through my mind.
“Nowhere. So what are you supposed to text me?”
Gina’s lips are pressed flat. She does that when she doesn’t get what she wants. Her phone buzzes.
“Nom just sent me the account information. We’re supposed to meet her and Steve at the café at three. We should wire the money before then.”
She barely looked me in the eyes while talking, and I wonder if it’s because she’s guilty about slipping out while she thought I was sleeping.
“Okay,” I say.
Finally, her glassy eyes meet mine. My heart warms. Damn, she’s a natural beauty. Not only that, but her skin is so damn soft.
“I’m going to need your phone number,” she says.
“You don’t have my number?”
“You never gave it to us.”
I could’ve sworn I gave my phone number to Gina. I have her number in my phone and have often thought about calling her on nights when I just didn’t want to be alone. When I was in New York filming the show, I wanted to call her at least a dozen times. I like Gina, but damn, she makes it hard to admit. Like the way she’s looking at me now—if her eyes could cast an evil spell, she would turn me into a donkey so she could ride me until my back broke, or she’d turn me into a fucking mouse so she could step on me.
I clear my throat. “It’s 952-555-0134.”
Gina taps on the screen of her cell phone. “There. I sent it.”
“Thanks,” I say.
We look at each other. I want to ask if she wants to come in for one last round of sex before we officially become partners, but I also have to ge
t on the phone and round up that forty grand before it’s too late.
“You’re welcome,” she finally says. She hasn’t budged. I think she’s expecting me to ask her inside.
“So I’ll see you at three?”
She nods. “See you at three.”
After a few seconds, she turns her back to me and quickly walks off. I want to walk back into the house, but I can’t take my eyes off her. There’s something different about Gina. I wish I could identify it. Maybe one day soon I’ll be able to. As soon as she’s in the car and driving down the street, I go back inside. I have to call Jeremy. He’s got the money I need collecting dust in his bank, and if he loans me the cash, he knows I’m good for it—unlike Steve.
Six hours later, Steve asks me, “What are you doing here?”
My uncle is standing outside the front door of the Calypso Café, inhaling a cigarette. He doesn’t look good at all. He’s unshaven and looks as though he hasn’t had a shower or gotten a lick of sleep in days.
“Have you been sleeping in a fucking dumpster?” I ask.
He scratches the scruff on his jaw. “No, and you still haven’t answered my question.”
I’d rather he explain why he looks like a tweaker. The family knows his gambling was starting to get out of control, but no one really knew it was this bad—other than that he owed Jeremy a lot of money, but that’s been going on for a while. “I’m going in with Gina.”
He cocks his head suspiciously. “Did you win the contest?”
“No,” I say in the sincerest tone I can muster. There’s no way I’m telling Steve the truth. He’d probably sell the results to a tabloid, and I would lose the prize money. “I have cash saved up.”
“I thought you were almost out of cash.”
That’s what I told him after I had already loaned him three thousand dollars he never repaid. On top of that, he failed to pay me at least six paychecks.
I massage him on the shoulder. “Steve, how about we get you somebody to talk to.”
He pulls away from my hand. “Fuck you, Randy. I’m the one who helped you when you needed it.”
“And I appreciate it.”
“So don’t treat me like a fucking invalid. I’m in control of my shit.”
“Well, you sure as hell don’t look like it.”
Steve sniffs disdainfully and sucks hard on his last bit of cigarette. He’s practically smoking the butt.
“You just remember, I used to change your soggy diaper.” Steve always says that when he thinks I’m getting out of line, but according to my mom, he only changed one diaper and with her help. She had sprained her wrist, and he was over visiting.
“I remember,” I say as always.
Finally, Gina and Naomi show up in one car.
“About fucking time,” Steve says, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground.
I think better about reminding him that we are early. As soon as Jeremy agreed to wire the money to the account, I got so excited that I had to hurry up and get here. Of course, I had to tell him that I’m going into business with Gina and then had to agree to give him a stake in the company. I called Gina and Naomi and ran it by them. Gina would’ve rather put in more money instead of dividing shares with Jeremy. But I insisted on being fifty-fifty partners or none at all. I don’t need her holding her power over my head. Naomi insisted that Gina retain a controlling share of the restaurant. So in the end, I had to secure Jeremy’s loan with a portion of my share. If it were under any other terms, Gina said she would dump the both of us and go at it alone.
I expected Jeremy to put up an argument, but he didn’t, which means one thing—he’s into her. I know they went on some dates while I was away, but I never got to ask her how they went. He won’t tell me anything about it other than they didn’t finish all three because he got tired of her. I didn’t believe it when he told me then, and I sure as hell don’t believe it now.
Gina and Naomi get out of Naomi’s car. She has a new one. It’s a hefty gray BMW, the kind of car a lawyer would drive. They’re both watching Steve as though he’s a green Martian that just dropped in from outer space.
Naomi whispers something to Gina, who shakes her head.
“Let’s get this over with,” Steve says when they reach us. He doesn’t even shake the ladies’ hands. Hell, he doesn’t even acknowledge their beauty. He’s seen Gina before, but Naomi, never. The last time I checked, my uncle would have appreciated a fine specimen like her. But it seems all that can get him aroused these days is having more cash to gamble away.
We go inside, and the two ladies sit across from us. Once again, Gina can’t look me in the eye. Naomi starts discussing the terms line by line. She’s speaking legalese. Every now and then, Steve shifts his position or sighs hard, and only then does she pause and look at him. Once he settles down some, she moves on. Finally, she asks each of us to sign the contracts.
“Here.” Naomi directs Steve to write.
He scribbles his name as though he’s inconvenienced. Everything about him right now is painful to watch.
“Has the money been wired?” Steve asks.
I want to grab him by the shoulders and say, You don’t need the fucking money—not before rehab.
I sigh loudly and give Naomi a look. I’m aware she can’t read my mind, but I’m hoping to pass a message.
“It’ll be in your account a few hours after I release the funds.”
Steve flops back in his seat. “Then release the funds, please.” He’s looking at her as if he wants to bite her head off.
Naomi glances at me before she nods graciously. Maybe she picked up on my signal. I sure as hell hope so. She grabs her cell phone and taps the screen. Finally, she sets her phone on the table. “All done.”
Steve shoots to his feet like a missile. “Thank you,” he says in a bitter tone. He slaps the keys on the table. “Enjoy this fucking money pit.”
He dashes out of here so fast that I would have to sprint to catch him. As soon as he’s outside, I turn to Naomi.
“Did you really wire the cash?” I ask.
“I got your signal.”
Fuck, I could kiss her on the cheek, but I wouldn’t want Gina to get the wrong idea. So I raise my hands to her graciously. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. But according to the contract, the funds can only be held for…” She looks at her watch. “Another four hours.”
I nod. “That’s all we need.” I stand and set my gaze on Gina’s beautiful face. Boy, would I love to celebrate the finalizing of the purchase with her tonight, but I can’t. Steve needs me—he needs us. I have a gang of phone calls to make.
“Talk to you later?” I say to Gina.
She gulps. “Sure.”
I’m still trying to figure out what in the hell is going on with her. “Then I’ll call you later tonight.”
Naomi shoots her a wide-eyed look. Gina ignores her and nods.
I nod and run out into the daylight. First things first—I need to call my dad. He can help me get the ball rolling.
15
I lay my head against the arm of my sofa. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds at the moment. The week has been long and the day huge. I now own my own restaurant. I reach my arm around my chest to pat myself on the back.
“Ouch.” My unsupported neck kinks a little.
I use my hands to prop myself up in a more upright position. My phone chimes, but I don’t feel like answering it. Instead, I just sit and let my big, puffy sofa hug me.
After about five minutes, I get up and fish my phone from my purse.
“Come over,” the message reads. I smile and walk back to the couch. Finally, Randy decided to use my number. It’s been a long day, but the thought of his warm, sculpted body brushing up against mine could be just what the doctor ordered.
I tap my finger against the screen but wait for a minute before typing a message. I’m too tired to go anywhere tonight, and besides, I just went to his place. I think it’s about time
he comes to mine.
“Why don’t you come here?” I punch into the screen and tap Send. I stare at the screen for several seconds, waiting for his reply. My stomach cramps a little or growls—I’m not quite sure which. I set my phone down and walk to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers. By the time they’re nearly finished in the microwave, my phone chimes again. I wait for the timer to buzz, grab my food, and head back to the couch to find a response from Randy.
“You want me to come to your place?”
“Yes,” I text back.
“But I was planning on you coming over here ;)”
“Really… Come here ;)”
Several more seconds pass, and I set the phone down and start in on my food. To kill a little extra time, I turn on the TV. My favorite husband-and-wife remodel team is in the middle of turning an old barn into something magnificent. I set the remote down. I just love her style, and she always gives me ideas on how to do stuff. Maybe I’ll get a couple of ideas for the café.
Finally, I get his next text:
“What’s your address?”
I grin victoriously and send it to him.
“I’ll be over in a few,” he texts.
The doorbell rings about twenty-five minutes later. I get up while watching the final minutes of the home remodel show and unlock the door.
“Come in,” I say, all of a sudden bone tired and barfy but concealing how I feel. If this is going to be the new pregnant me, I’m in for a long haul.
Randy walks through the entry and scans the room. “Not bad for an old house.”
“Thanks.” I close and lock the door. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water’s fine.”
I go to the kitchen and fetch glasses of ice water for both him and me. “Feel free to have a seat,” I holler.
When I get back to the living room, he’s standing at the mantel, looking at my pictures. “Here.” I hand him his glass.
He points. “These your parents?”
I go down the line, naming each—my grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles.
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