“How was Peterson’s party last night?”
“Same old, same old. Frat boys are pigs—a bunch of drunks pawing each other.” I give Jessica a hard time about Jeff, but maybe I’m envious. Not of Jeff, but of their relationship. Jeff is actually our friend Sarah’s brother and there was a time when I was attracted to him, but now that I know him, hmm…not so much. He is way too vanilla for me, but Jessica needs vanilla. She’s seeks stability because her dad is a cheating whore, who is marrying for the third time. This one is the same age as Jessica’s sister. Jessica needs a man to be loyal and responsible and predictable and boring. I need mystery or I’ll end up being the cheating whore. I need to know a guy has a dark side, that he has options and still picks me. I don’t do stable. Maybe that’s the problem I have with Peterson—I can predict his every move.
“I think Peterson is getting attached.”
She knows me well enough to know this is not a good thing.
“What makes you say that?”
“Chase called my cell and Peterson went all caveman on me.” Oh crap! I shouldn’t have said that. The second it left my mouth I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up. I can see the horror on her face.
“What? How did he get your number?”
I explain what happened at the coffee shop with Chase, as she stares at me, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. I know all she can focus on is that Chase is contacting me, but I want her to reassure me that Peterson is just interested in my statistic skills or he just wants sex—anything but a relationship.
“We can go to the mall to get you a new number but you should check online. I bet they can change it without you even having to go in.”
“I’m not changing my number. Chase is not the problem here. What do I do about Peterson?”
“Marry him. He’s big enough to keep you away from Chase.”
I roll my eyes. “I like him and don’t want to give up what we have, but he basically told Chase I was taken and then he asked me whether we were seeing each other, but he implied exclusively. I don’t do exclusive.”
“Have you dated anyone else since basketball season started?”
“Not really, but it’s not that I couldn’t. It’s just easier not to date anyone else.”
“Then you’re dating exclusively. Give it a chance—maybe it will be good.”
She obviously doesn’t understand my dilemma. I am glad I ran into Chase. Maybe I can finally get closure with him. He and my mom are anomalies in my life that I have never been able to statistically reconcile. Even if I can’t get closure with my mom, maybe I can with him. If I don’t get some kind of answers before I leave for grad school this fall I never will.
“I told my dad I would help him with some accounting issues at the marina and I’d better get going.”
“Do you want me to come with you? I could bring my laptop and work on my case studies. I have a ton of them to write up before my clinical on Monday.”
Jessica is a nursing student and is always talking about some patient she took care of during her clinical class at the hospital. If she came with me, I would probably have to endure another detailed description about an accident victim. The last one’s leg had been ripped open—exposing bones and tendons and after a week of healing—the still-gaping wound started oozing different colors of pus. And then my other roommate, Alli, joined in and they started talking bacteria. Oh my god, I had to leave the room to vomit. I can’t handle body fluid discussions.
Even though Jessica seems to find humor in disgusting me with hospital horror stories, she really does care about her patients. She spent a week trying to figure out how the accident victim’s family was going to get by on one income if he ended up losing his leg and had to spend eight months in rehab. She’s not supposed to talk about patients, but she doesn’t use names and I know she needs to vent, so I do my best not to vomit. She puts her heart into everything she does and I respect that.
She knows how much I hate the marina and that’s why she volunteered her afternoon with me. It’s not that she’s a sadist. She would leave her laptop at home if I asked her to. She knows what going to the marina does to me. We’ve known each other since high school and she’s been around to see most of my ugly secrets—most, but not all. Some secrets are just too dark to share.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine,” I answer with the best smile I can conjure.
She looks at me as if she doesn’t believe me.
“Honestly. I have a mission. I’ll just focus on that and when I get home, I’ll binge-watch the entire second half of season three of Impassioned. I’ll be fine. If anything can distract me from the marina, it’s that incredibly hot Ashton Post.”
Jessica smiles. “Call me if you need to talk.”
“Okay.” I nod, head downstairs and out the door. My buttercream yellow bug is waiting for me by the curb. It is such a contradiction to the way I feel most of the time. I climb in and crank up the music.
When I reach the drive to the marina, my heart begins to pound in my ears. It doesn’t feel like the start of a headache, so it must just be anxiety. I park the car in front of the clubhouse. I’ll have to walk through it to get to the office. The bell jingles over my head, when I open the door. I used to love the friendly tinkling. Now it’s just annoying. I buy a water from the machine just inside the door and crack it open as I make my way to the office. No one is in the back. I expected my dad or one of my brothers, at the very least, to be somewhere nearby. In the summer, there’s always an attendant, but maybe it is too early in the season for that.
I look to the corner with the window where my dollhouse used to stand. There’s a big plant there now. My doll would have climbed it and gone skydiving if it had been there when I was six. I sit down in the worn, black leather chair and log onto the computer. The password is the same as when my mom did the books. I helped my dad with the accounting for a few months after she left us. He needed me and that’s what family does.
***
I’ve been looking at the numbers for about thirty minutes and haven’t spotted any obvious problems. I open another spreadsheet and start punching in formulas. The spreadsheet the accountant is using is too confusing. My mom never had the books set up like this. She preferred a simple layout, like I do.
I get my math skills from her side of the family. Her father helped reengineer parts of the space shuttle after the Discovery disaster, and my mother was in the top of her class in high school. She went to university and met my dad her sophomore year. He played football and she fell for his good looks. They didn’t know each other long when she got pregnant with my brother Braden. They both dropped out of school, and my dad went to work for his dad, while my mom got a two-year accounting degree at the community college at night. I always thought it was such a waste for her to be stuck doing the books at the marina when she could have been anything she wanted, married anyone she wanted. I guess she did too. Don’t get me wrong, Dad’s a great guy, but he’s very vanilla, very old-fashioned, and his and Mom’s relationship never really sparked. I’ve vowed never to let what happened to her happen to me. That’s why I am going for my doctorate, and if something derails me at least I will have my teaching certificate. I always have a backup. I don’t want to end up like Mom.
I’ve got most of the numbers for the past six months transferred to my easier form before I hear the bell tinkle and my dad’s voice boom from the front room. He’s laughing about something my brother said as he enters the office. When he sees me, his smile dissipates.
“Sweetheart.” Pain fills his eyes. “I didn’t think you would be here yet.”
“I am.” I make eye contact with my brother Braden and his eyebrow furrows. I know it isn’t me causing the pain—yet it is. I look just like her. The shape of my face, my long legs, and even my blue eyes are hers. And now that my blond hair is short, I’m a dead ringer. The look on my dad’s face is one of the biggest reasons I hate the marina. I don’t like to hurt him. He’s been through
enough. The look on my brother’s face is the second reason I shouldn’t be here. He still blames me for all that went down with Mom.
My dad walks over and places his hand on my shoulder. “Have you found anything?” His hand feels weighted as if he’s too tired to support it himself. I understand because that is how I feel sitting in this room.
“Not yet, but your books are a mess. I’m going to set up a new system just to be able to see where the money is going.”
“The boys and I are going to grab an early dinner downtown. Do you want to come? It’s been a long time since the whole family ate together.”
“Dad, there’s a lot to look over here and I have plans tonight.” I don’t tell him my plans are with a hot fictional character found only in the reruns of my favorite cable drama. I don’t want to ruin his night.
“Maybe next time,” he adds.
In come Tyler and Wes. They both freeze when they see me. I know what they’re seeing. They see a young version of Mom sitting at the desk she always sat in. I should have left my hair long. It wasn’t so obvious when my hair was long.
I smile at my brothers and they just stare. “Would you mind if I save everything to a flash drive and take it back to my place to work on it?” I ask. “My computer is faster and it will take less time.”
“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He’s looking down as he speaks, not at me. Then he looks at my brothers and they start filing out of the room. They don’t even say goodbye. What the hell? Didn’t their mother teach them any manners? I don’t care anymore.
It takes me about forty-five minutes to upload the information I need. After stuffing my USB drive back in my bag, I look around the room, wondering what has changed in the last four years since my mom left. The plant in the corner is new, but everything else looks the same. I drive home, my head clouded with thoughts of my mom.
She once told me she didn’t really love my dad when they got married. She was still hung up on an old boyfriend who would probably always have her heart. She said that though she found Dad attractive, the chemistry wasn’t there. They made the best of the circumstances they were thrust into and she learned to love him. I understand why she told me. She didn’t want me to make the same mistake she did. She knew Chase had captured my heart and was encouraging me to get him help. I think about her words too often. They are embedded in my brain and I wish she had never told me. It’s probably the reason I’m still fixated on Chase.
By the time I get home, I’m completely wiped. All I want to do is change into my favorite comfy pajamas and sink into my Impassioned binge. The second-half of the season was just released and I can’t wait to watch it. I’m not hungry enough for a meal, but I will probably want a snack once my brain relaxes. I head to the kitchen to fill my oversized glass with ice water and find some food to stuff into my body.
Jessica is heating dinner in the microwave. She must have just gotten home.
“Are you doing all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve got a date with a struggling actor.”
“Seriously, I don’t get the appeal of that show.”
I stare at her in disbelief, and she adds, “Okay, the Ashton Post character is hot, but he sleeps with every girl on the show.”
“You know me—I’m not one of those crazy fangirls. He’s just a good distraction and nice to look at.” And we may have a few children together in one of my recurring dreams. “He’s just a misunderstood bad boy. Deep down, he’s trying to survive life in the cruel world of Hollywood. And, in about five minutes, I’m going to find out if he died in the motorcycle crash in the mid-season finale. I know he survived though because they would never kill him off. You are welcome to join me, but there will be no talking if you do.”
“I’m not a fan.”
“You’re dead to me,” I say.
She laughs and pulls her plate from the microwave.
I normally don’t rant, but this is Impassioned. It’s my one dirty little pleasure, and after the day I had, I deserve some entertainment. I just found the show a few months ago and it’s already my all-time favorite. I finish rummaging through my cupboard, plucking a box of cereal from the shelf before filling my glass with ice water and rushing back upstairs to my room.
Chapter 4
Liam
IT’S TAKEN ME a week to finally get Seth to respond to a text. He knows why I’m contacting him, which doesn’t surprise me. Dad probably said something to him. The kid is still in high school and lives at home. He has to run into Mom and Dad once in a while. Still knowing my motivation, he’s agreed to meet me for lunch, as long as I’m paying.
I’m sitting at the restaurant where I used to take him when he was thirteen. I was in college, completely disappointing my parents by pursuing a degree in the arts. I should follow in my father’s footsteps and go to law school, right? My parents thought it was important for me not to abandon my little brother while I was in school. I remember thinking at the time that I wasn’t his parent and I definitely wasn’t the one who let the nannies raise him. Talk about abandonment. My parents are a little hypocritical when it comes to my brother and me. And maybe their lack of parenting is the reason I feel responsible for Seth. He needs to know he’s not alone in the world and someone actually pays attention to what he does.
I know what happens at the prep school he attends, because I went there. I know it is chock full of drug pushers who are exactly what the students’ parents pay high priced tuition to avoid. Hell, the drug pushers’ parents pay the same tuition. The drugs may be designer and cost more than the ones at other schools, but they do the same job—provide an escape from whatever problems life brings.
Seth is about thirty minutes late before I text him and to his credit, he responds immediately.
Seth: Having car trouble. Caught a ride. Hope you’re not on your bike.
Me: Got my car.
Seth: See you in 5.
Interpretation: he needs a ride home and doesn’t want to ride on the back of my motorcycle. I have to wonder what kind of trouble a not even two-year-old Mercedes has. I don’t get to ponder this long because the server is back for the fourth time.
“I don’t think she’s coming. I could take my break and sit with you while you eat.”
She’s cute, but brunette and probably barely legal. She looks young.
“My brother will be here. He just sent a text.”
With this news her eyes peruse my body. I’ve seen her expression a thousand times. The next words out of her mouth will be telling me she gets off soon and blah blah blah…if I’m interested…blah blah blah…we could just hang out and chill. Meaning she wants me to get her off. I scratch the back of my neck and wait.
“I get off at two. We could grab some coffee somewhere and chill?” She bats her big brown eyes at me.
I wonder if she watches my show and really wants to sleep with Ashton Post. I smile and say, “I’d love to, but my brother and I are going to be busy all day.”
“Shit, Liam.” Seth slides into the booth across from me. “I thought it was only going to be lunch.”
“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says with a smug smile, before asking Seth for his drink order.
“You look like hell,” I say after the server leaves. He looks like he’s lost about ten pounds.
“Great to see you too,” he practically growls as he rolls his eyes.
He picks up the menu and opens it.
“I’m starved. My car disappeared and I spent all morning looking for it.”
He holds the menu up in front of his face and I can’t read his expression. Is he joking?
“Someone stole your car?”
“Nah, just can’t find it.”
“You lost your car? What do you mean, you lost your car? Mom and Dad are going to kill you.”
“That’s why they are never going to find out. You’re going to help me find it. I have it narrowed down to maybe five locations. All you have to do is drive me around a li
ttle bit and problem solved.” He shrugs as if he lost his tennis racket. “You’re still buying, right? I’m flat broke. I can’t wait for my birthday. Is there any way you can spot me some cash until then?”
Really? “Have you forgotten about the thousand dollars you borrowed from me last month? Get a job. I’m not supporting your drug habit anymore.” When did I grow up? Somehow in the last six years I’ve become my parents.
“Oh come on, Liam. I don’t have a drug habit. It’s just social. You know how it is.”
“Yep, I do. And here’s my advice. If you are so baked you don’t know where you parked your car then it is no longer social. Quit cold turkey or you are going to find your ass in treatment. Blair Halbrook’s daughter ratted you out to Mom and Dad, and they don’t care whether you classify it as social or not.”
The server comes back for our order and as soon as she records it, she asks, “Are you really brothers, because you don’t look anything alike, except for the shoes.”
I look down at our feet and laugh at the coincidence, because we are wearing the same brand and model of shoe. I guess we have similar taste in clothes. She’s right, besides the shoes we don’t look anything alike. Seth has my dad’s dark hair and my mom’s fair skin, and I have my mom’s blond hair and my dad’s tanned skin. My eyes are brown and his are blue. It’s a pretty mixed-up gene pool. I nod and give her my order. Seth follows.
“So are you doing meth?” I ask, examining his face.
“Quit checking out my teeth. I’m not doing meth. You act as if you’ve never experimented. You’re the addict. Stop with the judging. I get enough of that at the house.”
“So do you think you could give up whatever it is? At least until you leave for school, because you know what Mom’s thinking. She’ll have you on suicide watch next and then Dad will step in and you’ll be peeing in a cup for him every Sunday morning.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but he knows I’m right.
“Did he ever drug test you?” Seth asks, slouching in his chair.
“Nope. But I wasn’t as stupid as you,” I say. “You’re living in their house, burning through money like it is lemonade. What are Mom and Dad supposed to think? You better start being smarter.”
Between Friends (Between the Raindrops #3) Page 3
