by Tawna Fenske
“Look, Pete – I’m really sorry about this,” I began. “This is usually a really safe part of town—”
Pete turned to smile at me, reaching back to give my hand a squeeze. “It’s not your fault, JJ. They didn’t steal anything. Probably just some kids who thought they were being funny.”
“Hilarious,” I muttered, watching Lori as she yanked open the front door of the boutique. “What, you don’t lock the door now?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “There are six cops down the block. Besides, the lady next door keeps an eye out when I’m only gone a couple minutes.”
I shrugged and followed her inside. Pete set his slightly soggy gift-wrapped package on the counter and pulled a flashy black cell phone out of his jacket. He punched a few buttons before looking up at us.
“Any chance you can recommend a good towing service?”
Lori shrugged. “Our uncle runs a sand and gravel lot, but unless you want to run the car through a rock crusher, that’s probably not what you need.”
“Tempting, but no,” Pete said, settling onto one of the leather stools at the front counter.
“How about Adam?” I asked, admittedly trying to get a rise out of my sister. “He owns an auto shop.”
Lori frowned. “Of all the auto shops around, you want to call my ex-boyfriend?”
“Come on, Lori,” I said, pointing to the stack of business cards tucked under the corner of her cash register. “I see his card right there. You’ve got his number, and Pete needs a tow truck. Hand it over.”
Lori sighed and thrust the card at Pete. “Here. He left it when he stopped by the other day. I meant to throw it out, but—”
“I’m sure you did,” I said, watching as Pete took the card and began punching numbers while Lori pretended to be more annoyed than she really was.
Fifteen minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk with Lori and Pete when Adam pulled up behind Pete’s car in a big, blue tow truck.
Beside me, Lori sniffed. “He can’t be that successful if he drives a tow truck at 8 p.m. on a Friday evening,” she muttered.
I rolled my eyes at her. “He owns the damn tow truck, along with the rest of the company. And what do you want to bet he only showed up himself because Pete mentioned you?”
Lori scowled and looked away, suddenly very interested in studying the back of a stop sign.
When Adam jumped out of the cab, he was practically fizzing with joy. I assumed Lori was the source of his delight. Then I saw the way he was staring at Pete.
“Oh my God, it really is you,” he said, stepping forward to shake Pete’s hand. “I thought it was you at Goomba’s the other day when I dropped off Aunt Ernie’s keys. Colt McTrigger from Bionic Cyber Cops in Monster Trucks, right? I love that movie!”
“Thanks, man,” Pete said, looking a little uncomfortable as he shook Adam’s hand and glanced over at the car. “The name’s Pete, actually. And thanks for showing up to help on a Friday night.”
“My pleasure,” Adam said, grinning over at Lori. “Any friend of Lori’s is a friend of mine.”
Lori’s cheeks pinkened but she pretended not to hear him. Instead, she turned to me. “I was supposed to meet Macy for a drink, but why don’t I just take you home now?”
“Let’s stop at Velvet first and get her,” I told her. “Maybe we can all go out for pizza or something.”
“Sure, that sounds good.” Lori looked grateful to get away from Adam. “Pete, you want to ride with us?”
“I’d better go deal with the car,” he said, looking down at me. “Thanks again for the help with the birthday gift.”
“Not a problem. I just hope your girlfriend enjoys it.”
Pete smiled, his eyes holding mine a few seconds longer than necessary. Lori reached out and shook Pete’s hand with enthusiasm. “It really was great to meet you,” she said. “Sorry again about your car.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, giving her hand a squeeze before turning toward the truck. The view of his perfectly formed backside helped make up for the disappointment I felt at seeing him go.
Adam looked at Lori for a moment, his expression grim but determined. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lori turned away.
“Come on, JJ,” she said, latching on to my elbow. “Let’s get dinner.”
AN HOUR LATER, Lori and I were flopped on my couch with a bag of Doritos and Blue Cat between us. We alternated between munching and petting, a practice that resulted in regular consumption of cat hair. Our favorite pizza place had been closed for remodeling, and Macy hadn’t been at the bar when we went looking for her there.
“Maybe it was tomorrow night you were supposed to meet for drinks,” I mused. “Or maybe she joined a cult in Libya or jetted off to a yoga retreat in Costa Rica or—”
“Very funny. Maybe I’ll swing by her house later, show her the swatches. I should probably get going anyway.” She looked at her watch, then at me. “Or maybe we should cook dinner.”
I stared at her. “Since when do you cook?”
“By ‘we,’ I meant ‘you,’” she pointed out helpfully. “How about your bourbon pecan chicken?”
“I don’t have chicken. Or pecans.”
“How about just the bourbon?”
I shrugged, thinking that was a fair substitution for an evening with an unavailable guy who gave off sexy vibes.
“Pete’s pretty hot,” Lori said, effectively reading my mind as she reached for another chip.
“You’ve already said that three dozen times.”
“You’re sure he’s got a girlfriend?”
“Positive. I’ve seen her picture. She’s gorgeous. And stacked. Besides, he just bought her an insanely expensive handbag.”
“I wouldn’t say insanely—”
“A handbag worth every penny of its exceptionally high price.”
“Whatever. Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you? There’s some definite chemistry going on.”
“Lori—”
“I’m just saying.”
“Not true,” I insisted, even though I wanted it to be. “And even if it were, that makes him a cad for scoping out another woman when he has a girlfriend.”
“Maybe not,” she said, shoving a chip in her mouth. “Maybe they have a casual relationship like you and Daniel. Maybe they aren’t that serious.”
“Do you usually spend several hundred dollars on a birthday gift for someone you’re not serious about?”
Lori shrugged. “I’m just saying, he seems nice.”
I sighed, deciding it was time to act on her suggestion of a bourbon dinner. That’s when the doorbell rang.
Lori raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
I shifted Blue Cat and the Doritos to Lori’s lap. “Nope.” I stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole.
There was Pete standing on my doorstep, looking sheepish.
And he wasn’t alone.
I swung the door open, and smiled up at the two good-looking men on my porch.
“Pete, Adam – what are you both doing here?”
“Sorry to show up without calling,” Pete said, ducking his head a little to avoid the rain dripping through my eaves. “I think I left my cell phone in Lori’s shop.”
Behind him, Adam shifted his weight beneath the bulk of three heavy-looking pizza boxes. “I offered him my cell so he could call you, but he didn’t have your phone number and it wasn’t in the book.”
I stood there for a moment, inhaling the scent of pepperoni and man soap.
“Sorry, come in,” I said, stepping aside to allow them – and the pizzas – through the door. I glanced over my shoulder at Lori, who looked like she was trying to decide between disgust at seeing Adam and delight at seeing food.
“We brought beer, too,” Pete said, hoisting two six-packs of the Northwest’s finest microbrew. “And ginger ale. And—”
“It’s okay, you can stay,” I giggled, hustling the short distance to the kitchen to grab pla
tes and napkins. Pete followed, while Lori remained frozen on the sofa a few feet away. “Let me throw together a quick salad. Lori, can you help me set the table?”
“Sure,” Lori said, shifting Blue Cat to the floor. I wasn’t certain which of the two looked more annoyed.
“Is it okay if I wash up?” Adam asked, setting the boxes down on my dining room table.
“Absolutely,” I told him. “Bathroom’s down the hall, second door on the right.”
Adam headed off that direction, and Lori fixed me with a scowl. “Did you set this up?” she hissed.
I sighed and handed over a fistful of napkins. “Don’t be such a drama queen,” I said.
“It’s my fault,” Pete interjected, stepping up to take the plates out of my hands. “The loaner car won’t be ready for another hour, and I thought maybe if we got here fast enough, I could catch both of you and maybe get my phone back. Adam knew where you lived, so...”
Lori flushed a little, clearly embarrassed, before rearranging her face into a smile for Pete’s benefit. “Do you need to get the phone now, or can it wait until after dinner?”
“After dinner is fine,” Pete said, distributing the plates around the table before returning to the kitchen. “We got a few different varieties of pizza. There’s a meat combo, something with pesto and chicken, and Adam said Lori likes vegetarian pizza with Canadian bacon added. Is that right?”
Lori’s face registered surprise before she covered it with her mask of irritation.
“That’s fine,” Lori said. “This was very thoughtful of you.”
“I give Adam all the credit,” he said. “The pizza was his idea. He saw Rocco’s was closed and knew it was your favorite place, so he thought you might need a backup plan. He even thought of the ginger ale.”
“We’re both ginger ale girls,” I agreed, taking some red leaf lettuce and a few carrots out of the fridge. “Lori likes hers with gin.”
“That’s new,” Adam said, coming out of the bathroom with a smile for Lori. “I guess gin wasn’t a staple in high school.”
Lori folded her arms over her chest and leveled him with a stare. “Plenty of things have changed about me since high school, Adam.”
Pete – who had stepped in to peel carrots without even being asked – froze beside me. He opened his mouth to interrupt, probably looking to diffuse the tension. I stepped on his foot and shook my head once, quickly. Let them have it out. It’s been a long time coming.
“You’re right, Lori,” Adam said slowly, gripping the back of one of the chairs on the other side of my serving bar. “I’m guessing we’ve both changed quite a bit. I was a shallow, narrow-minded, judgmental, immature, arrogant—”
“Don’t forget cheating.”
Adam swallowed hard. “Right. Cheating.”
Lori stared at him. “With my best friend? Talk about the oldest cliché in the book.”
“Technically, hadn’t we split up earlier that day?”
Lori’s eyes narrowed. Adam held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right, it doesn’t matter. I was still a jerk. I accept that.”
Lori shook her head. “Whatever, Adam. The things you said to me were a lot crueler than the fact that you bumped uglies with Carlie the day you dumped me.”
Adam winced. “Look, I know I said and did some really lousy things to you. Things I wish I could take back. All I can say for myself is that I was a dumb kid with testosterone poisoning and some pretty narrow ideas about career paths and what it takes to gain respect and wealth and happiness. It was a long time ago, and I’ve learned some things since then.”
“You called me a loser,” she said, the hurt flickering in her eyes the same way it had the day she’d shown up at my college dorm in tears a week after her high school graduation. “You said that if I didn’t get a degree, I’d never amount to anything. You said you couldn’t possibly be with someone who didn’t respect herself enough to ensure that her earning potential was—”
“I was wrong,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. “I was pissed when I realized we weren’t going to college together like we’d planned, and I said stupid things. Did stupid things. I was a stupid kid, okay?”
Lori stared at him, her elfin features flushed pink. “Yes,” she said. “You were.”
“I was a jerk to you.”
“Yes. You were.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lori blinked hard, her eyes on him. When she spoke again, her voice was an octave higher.
“Why is it that our immature, eighteen-year-old selves are the ones who make those major, life-altering decisions about education and career?”
Adam shrugged. “It seems to have worked out okay for you.”
Lori’s chin lifted. “Better than okay.”
“I saw those pictures of your stuff in Cosmopolitan two years ago. And then that little thing in Marie Claire last fall.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why were you reading women’s magazines?”
“We keep copies in the waiting areas at all the auto repair shops,” Adam said, shrugging. “When things are slow, I catch up on my reading. Get in touch with my feminine side.”
“You just like looking at boobs.”
“That too,” he agreed.
Lori smiled, albeit weakly. “Fine. You can stay for dinner. That’s it. Then you go home.”
“That seems fair,” he said, glancing at the table. “Since I bought the pizza.”
Lori nodded once, then turned to grab the salad that Pete and I had just finished.
“So can we eat now?” I asked, glancing between them to make sure neither was on the verge of drawing a dagger. “Cold pizza’s okay, but it’s really better warm.”
Lori turned back toward the kitchen and rummaged through my cupboard to find the dried cranberries she favored on her salad. She returned to the table and sat down across from my usual spot, leaving the men to fill in the gaps between us. Boy, girl, boy, girl. Very cozy. I could almost have pretended that none of the guests were on the brink of skewering another with a salad fork or groping a table-mate who was already involved in a relationship.
We passed around pizza slices and plates, the conversation growing more relaxed as we munched. “So you think that was just a random thing that happened to your car?” Lori asked as she passed Pete a bowl of toasted pine nuts.
Pete shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I don’t think I have any enemies.”
Adam cleared his throat. “So the cops think it’s just teenagers screwing around?”
“They didn’t really say. Why?”
Adam shrugged. “No reason. That’s just usually a really safe part of town. Don’t they have security cameras or something?”
“Not there,” Lori said. “A couple blocks down by the jewelry store they do, but there’s nothing in that section.”
Pete nodded and reached for another beer. “The cops took prints and examined everything pretty thoroughly.”
“Then hopefully they’ll get to the bottom of it,” Adam said as he grabbed another slice of pepperoni.
“So, Pete,” Lori said, “How did you end up working at the dump after being an actor?”
“The actor,” Adam clarified around a mouthful of pizza. “Seriously, this guy is the man. Colt McTrigger, the coolest action hero ever. There was this scene where he flipped this switch on his Taser gun and all the bad guys turned into wedges of cheddar cheese and these mice came out—”
“The movie didn’t have a lot of commercial success,” Pete said, cutting Adam off. “I realized acting wasn’t really my calling, and then my mom got sick so it seemed like a good time to come back to Oregon and get a stable job with good benefits.”
“What is it you do out there again?” Adam asked.
“Secretary,” Pete said, without the faintest hint of self-consciousness.
Lori stared at Adam, her eyes daring him to say something judgmental about the job. I could almost hear her mental tape deck replaying Adam’
s post-high school speech about lowly jobs and the people who performed them.
“Huh,” was all Adam said as he grabbed a slice of veggie. “Government benefits are great. You get dental?”
“Vision, too.”
“Yeah?”
Adam turned toward Lori, who had been staring at him open-mouthed. “I’m sorry, did you need the pine nuts?”
“Um, no. Thank you.”
“More salad?” he asked, passing her the bowl.
Lori took the salad and stared at it for a moment as though uncertain what to do with it. After seven years of holding a surprisingly strong grudge and remembering Adam as a judgmental snob, it was clear Lori had no idea what to make of this new and improved version of her ex.
I set down my fork, finished with my pizza and certain my little sister needed rescuing. I stood up and hoisted my plate.
“Hey, Lori, I think I’ve got the stuff to make those white chocolate apricot almond balls you like. If you’re done, you want to help? It just takes a few minutes.”
Lori turned her blank stare toward me, probably wondering why I required the culinary assistance of someone who couldn’t differentiate a spatula from a spackling trowel.
“Sure.”
I pointed the men toward my living room. “You guys can turn on the TV if you want.”
“Should we move the cat first?” Pete asked, warily eyeing Blue Cat on his perch atop the television.
“Nope, he likes it up there,” I assured him. “It’s warm.”
“Are his legs supposed to bend like that?”
“He always lies that way,” I said, pausing to scratch my twenty-one pound cat stretched out like Superman in flight. “Started doing it right after he got neutered six years ago.”
“Good to know.”
The men filed into the living room – not so much filed as took five steps to the left – and flipped on the television. Lori joined me in the kitchen. I measured out the almonds and powdered sugar, letting Lori dump them into the food processor before I added the dried apricots.
“How much rum?” Lori asked, holding up the bottle eagerly.
“Only a tablespoon.”
I watched as she doubled the amount – precisely what I expected, and the reason I’d said one instead of two. I grabbed the bottle back and handed her a bar of white chocolate.
