Agitated, I lean against the hallway and wait for her reply but get nothing. I rake a hand through my hair and pace up and down the hall, wondering what to do next. The girl showing up at my door is really bothering me . . . it feels ominous, and I want to shake it off.
I have to know if it was Rose.
I send another text. Did you come to my apartment last night?
Yes, is the immediate reply. I saw her.
Fuck.
Dread pools in my gut as I picture the scene the way Rose might have perceived it. It’s not good.
It’s not what you think, I tell her. I can explain but not through text. Open your door.
I’m at the library. I’m turning my phone off. Goodbye.
I slap my hand on the wall and push off, feeling frustrated. I don’t know what’s going on with her. Is she angry? Is she going to let me explain? Fuck!
Maybe I should go to the library and find her. I’m assuming it’s the NYU library, but I don’t know for sure. It could be any library. Antsy and jittery, I decide it’s not helping to stand around, so I shake it off and leave to run my errands.
My first stop is at the art gallery in Soho where my show will be in a few days. It’s an invitation only event where several musicians will be showing their work. I’ve been working on it for months, and I’m looking forward to seeing it come to fruition.
I waltz in and Jenny, the gallery owner, meets me with a wide grin. A blonde with a broad genuine smile, she shakes my hand enthusiastically. “You want a sneak peek of everything?”
I shake my head. “Just here to pick up more invites for the show. I didn’t think my father and his wife were going to make it, but they are. I also need one for a girl.”
Or at least I hope I do.
Father called yesterday to tell me they were coming to see my show. He hadn’t known for sure because Anne broke her leg on a skiing trip a few weeks ago and he didn’t know if she’d be ready to travel. Thankfully, she is, and I’m glad. It feels like Anne tolerates me most of the time, and truth be told, I’m fine with that.
It’s my dad I want to secure a solid relationship with.
I told him about seeing Rose and he wished me well.
I take the cardstock invitations from Jenny and leave. With unease still eating at me about Rose, I get in my car to head to the venue for the show. I type out one more text to her. Can I see you tonight after the concert?
I get no reply.
Rose
AFTER READING SPIDER’S TEXT, I put my phone away. I told him I was going to turn it off, but I’m not. I just can’t talk to him right now.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall in the library where I’m currently hiding out, supposedly working on a research paper for one of my classes.
I pull out the cherry-flavored Gatorade Oscar tucked in my backpack this morning and chug it down along with a few Saltines—lunch of champions.
After forcing myself to take a few more notes on my laptop, I wrap things up and head to my weekend Krav Maga class at a small gym on Brewster Street. As soon as I moved to New York, I signed up for the course I’d started in Dallas. Employing efficient movements and gut instincts, my instructor is one of the best in the city.
After a grueling lesson where my partner slams me down on the mat more times than I think is necessary—though my body somehow likes it—I shower there and change into my usual black slacks and button-up white blouse with the lace collar, my uniform for Bono’s. I blow out my hair and pull it up in a topknot. My only makeup is my deep red lipstick and some mascara.
Tonight, I’m working the dinner shift. It’s the weekend, so things will be hopping, and I’m glad because I won’t have time to think about Spider.
As I walk in the door, I receive another text from Anne. She sent one last night saying they were coming to New York and I never replied. I reply back and ask about their plans, anxious to know if I’ll see Bella. She tells me they’re coming without Bella and staying at their penthouse since the painters have finished. She invites me to dinner Sunday night, and I tell her yes since I’m not working.
It’s her next text that throws me.
We’ll be attending Spider’s art show on Monday. Are you going?
Art show? I know nothing about it.
I’m not sure how to answer her.
One of the managers calls my name and I know it’s time to get to work. Wanting to know more about the show but also needing to not get fired, I tuck my phone away.
At nine, when the dinner rush has slowed, I’m serving a table of four their entrees when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“I guess you’ve come a long way when you go from Jo’s Diner to Manhattan. Yet, you’re still a waitress. How . . . quaint.”
My teeth grit as I turn to see Aria, Trenton, and Garrett being seated by the hostess, who sends me an apologetic glance after Aria’s comment. “These guys want your section.”
I sigh. “Great.”
Trenton gives me a sweeping hug. “We’re here to celebrate. I got everything turned in on time and the client is referring me to some of his buddies.”
I blink, suddenly remembering that I was supposed to pop over to his place last night to talk.
He doesn’t mention that I never replied to his texts, probably because Aria and Garrett are here.
“That’s awesome. Congratulations.” My voice is flat.
Aria narrows her eyes at me. “And of course you recall Garrett, my fiancé.” She emphasizes the last word.
I focus my gaze on him. Screw you, my eyes say.
Garrett has lost hair on top and looks sour and a bit sullen, his shoulders stiff as he watches me. A slight sneer curls his lips before disappearing in the blink of an eye, a micro-expression, those things people do when they want to hide how they really feel. Most of them are completely involuntary. It’s like when you walk into someone’s house and you smell cat pee—you can’t hide the brief expression of displeasure.
I exhale and look at Trenton.
Today . . . with all three of them here, my head just . . . hurts.
“I’m not going to be your waitress,” I state.
“That’s just pure laziness,” Aria murmurs. “Don’t you make money on tips?”
“I don’t want your money.” I face Trenton, a ball of anger building. “You brought them here . . . without even asking me?”
His face scrunches up as if dislikes my tone. “They’re family. If this is about me working—”
“No.” I hold my hand up. “This is about you and me.”
He must read something on my face because he takes my elbow and leads me away from Aria and Garrett until we’re standing a few feet away near the front door.
“What’s wrong with you, Rose?” His voice borders between irritated and surprised.
Normally, I’m easy and ready to go along with whatever he wants.
The air is tense, and I know this moment is about truth, about being true to myself when I haven’t been for a long time. I look Trenton over, my gut realizing that I’ve just been passing time with him, content with our relationship but not really happy. He doesn’t get who I am and what I need.
“I can’t see you anymore.”
Shock settles on his face. “I-I . . . I can’t believe this. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s not you. It’s just . . . we’ve been drifting apart for a while.”
He sighs. “We’d see each other more if you’d move in with me and stop working—”
“I’m not it for you,” I say, cutting him off.
His eyes sharpen. “What’s this really about?”
My lips tighten.
He watches me. “Is this about Spider? I might have been drunk the night I saw you two together, but I’d have to be an idiot to not see that he wants you.”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I clench my fists for strength. “I had sex with Spider . . . this week.” I rip the Band-Aid off, re
ady to get to the healing part.
His face goes white and a muscle flexes in his jaw. His chest expands as he inhales a deep breath.
I nod. “I’m sorry to hurt you. I really am. We haven’t been right . . . for a long time.”
He’s angry now, his neck and face turning red. It’s the most reaction I’ve seen out of him in a long time. “Everyone knows he’s on drugs, Rose. He’ll never be true to you.”
His last words kill me, because they might be true. I can’t think about that right now, and I focus on telling the truth. “I love him more than anything.” More than you.
Emotion ripples across his face and he shakes his head at me. His hands clench, and I can tell he’s wrestling with his feelings, deciding on what to say to me. I prepare myself for him to lash out. He doesn’t disappoint and the words he uses only prove that he and I were never meant to be together. “I should have listened to my friends. You really are just trash, Rose.”
Then he turns and stalks back to where Aria and Garrett await. I watch as he briefly tells them something and they turn to look at me. Without another word, they gather their things from the table where the hostess placed them and walk out the door.
After my shift, I’m exhausted. It’s almost midnight and all I want to do is fall in the bed.
As I walk home, Oscar texts that he’s staying overnight with Axe again but will be home in the morning to make us Sunday breakfast. I tap out a quick reply telling him to invite Axe over too. I’m happy that at least one of us has a great love life.
When I arrive at my building, the doorman lets me up, and I enter the elevator and lean against the wall.
“Hold the door,” Spider calls out just before it closes.
I hold the door as a reflex and he enters. I try to ignore his male scent and the way his shirt clings to his broad chest. His hair is damp as if he’s showered recently, and I figure his concert is over and he’s cleaned up. He stands next to me, and I should move away, but I’m weak and want to be close to him for a little longer.
“I could barely focus at the concert. Are you okay?” His eyes search mine, moving down to take in my server outfit.
I ignore his question.
“I was at work . . . and I broke up with Trenton.”
Relief crosses his face. “Thank fuck.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Were you ever sick last night or was that all about Mila? I want to explain that—”
I stiffen, my jaw clenching as I interrupt him. “She’s the girl that was at your place the day you left Dallas?”
He gives me a short nod. “Look, she’s just our PR person and I’ve known her for years. It’s not—”
I cut him off, my words sharp. “I saw you with her at the bar across the street. Then, I knocked on your door and she answered . . . while you were taking a shower.”
He lets out a breath. “Rose, listen to me. I never slept with her. I only pretended that day in Dallas. I called her to come over and put on a show to make sure you didn’t ruin your life and maybe follow me to LA. I hated doing it and I hated walking away from you that day, but I had to.” He pauses, his face anxious as he studies my face, looking for my reaction. “I would have told you sooner but . . . it’s been crazy and we haven’t had time.”
There’s a ring of truth in his voice.
But . . .
“You two seem very chummy. Did you have a relationship with her at any point in LA?”
“We never had sex.” His eyes are pleading with me to understand, and part of me does. He used her to get to me, to hammer it home.
“She’s a friend and a co-worker, Rose. And last night, she was dropping off my dry cleaning. That’s it. I don’t feel that way about her. I never have. It’s you. Just you.”
I soften at his words but tears prick at my eyes as I think back to that day in Dallas. “I know you thought I was too young and that you were too screwed up, but I would have gone to the ends of the world with you.”
He looks tortured. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Are you ready now?”
He nods. “Yes.”
But there’s an uncertain look on his face, as if he’s unsure . . . and it scares me. I can’t figure out where his head is.
I need more from him.
I need the words. “Do you love me?”
There’s a struggle on his face, and he just stares at me.
Clarity arrives as I take him in. With Spider it’s always been about people he lost, but it’s time for him to figure out that I’m not leaving him.
I chew on my bottom lip and lay it all out on the line. “You say that I’m yours, but all I see is a guy who wants me on his terms. You show up and just expect me to fall back in your arms when you should have told me about Mila the first time you saw me. You could have told me the night of the storm. You should have found me today somehow and explained it to me—and you didn’t. Your hesitation and lack of commitment terrify me. You’re afraid of how big this thing is between us.” I pause. “I need more, Spider. I want fucking epic. I want someone to love me with the same intensity I feel for him.” I suck in a breath. “And until you give it to me, I can’t see you.”
He exhales as he stares at me, emotion burning in his eyes.
The elevator door opens and we step out. He watches me as I fumble around in my purse for keys. Finally I find them and unlock my door.
I turn to look at him, my heart hurting.
He’s still standing there when I shut the door.
I rest against it and let the tears I’ve held at bay all day finally come.
Rose
THE FOLLOWING DAY, OSCAR AND I show up at Robert and Anne’s penthouse for dinner. Oscar hasn’t seen them much over the years, just a few times when they would pop in to New York for a quick visit.
“How do I look?” he asks me, seeming anxious as he straightens his purple Tom Ford tie as we stand in front of the heavy cream-colored double doors, about to knock.
“Awesome.”
He clears his throat, an odd look on his face. He’s nervous and I frown, reading his body language. “What is it? You’re not telling me something.”
He exhales, his shoulders dipping as he turns to face me. “There’s something I need to tell you. Maybe I should have told you a long time ago—but I didn’t.”
“Okay, that sounds ominous. Are you really straight?”
He snorts and gestures to his pale gray suit with tightly creased skinny slacks and argyle yellow socks. “Does this ensemble say straight to you?”
“No.”
“Right.” He fluffs out his hair.
“Spill. You’re keeping secrets from me. Are you and Axe getting married?”
He sighs. “I wish. No, Robert asked me not to tell you, but remember how I told you I got a last minute scholarship for NYU and that’s how I was able to come to New York?”
I nod. “Yea, you always told me you got the underprivileged-smart-kid-who-also-happens-to-be-gay scholarship. I recall your letter was very last minute and I was worried for you.”
Oscar grimaces. “My letter wasn’t late. It came and the scholarship was denied. I just couldn’t tell you because I knew how much you wanted NYU for both of us.”
Oh. “Okay, so how did you get the money?”
Oscar gives me a look. “Robert . . . or Spider . . . I don’t know which one for sure . . . footed the bill for everything.”
My mouth flaps open and I quickly close it. I shake my head. “Stop joking. What’s going on?”
He exhales. “Four years ago, one day after Spring Fling, I got this call from Spider. He said he just wanted to check in on you.”
I’m in shock. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You know how much I would have wanted to know that!”
“You were already with Trenton, and honestly, I just didn’t want you to be sad or to go off and try to see him in LA.” He gives me a look.
I nod, remembering how depressed I’d been. I might have gone to LA. I don
’t know.
“Anyway, he asked a few questions and wanted to know if I was going to NYU with you, and I told him the whole story . . . that I’d been accepted but my scholarship didn’t come through. That seemed to be the end of it.”
“But it wasn’t?”
He shakes his head. “A few days later, Robert showed up at my door with papers to sign from a foundation that paid for my entire education. All I had to do was contact the foundation each semester with my total and they’d pay it. The address of the foundation was a place in LA. That’s why I think it was Spider who paid for it.”
My heart is pounding and my head is trying to wrap around all this information. “Why wouldn’t Robert want me to know?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t want you digging deeper and running to LA. He asked me to not tell you, and he was so nice about it, and I was just so thankful to have the opportunity to live our dream here in the city that I let it go. It was a lot of money, Rose.”
The door opens, interrupting any more talk.
Robert and Anne greet us with hugs at the door, but I’m still reeling. I’m not sure I can stay. I’m not sure I can eat a thing . . . but I push through because part of me is holding out hope that Spider is coming. I just want to see him—even if we aren’t together. That’s all.
Anne gazes at my low-cut, hip-hugging red dress and takes a deep breath.
“I like tight dresses so don’t even go there,” I say with a smile, softening my words.
She nods and hooks her arm in mine and leads me into the dining room. I see there’s another place setting across from me.
My heart dips.
“Is Spider coming?”
“He was invited, but sends his regrets,” Robert says, his tone inquisitive, his eyes watchful as he looks at me.
It stings that he didn’t come. “Ah.” I clear my throat, needing to talk, needing to find out what the hell is going on. “Oscar told me you . . . or Spider . . . paid his tuition. Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”
He looks at Anne and they seem to have some kind of silent communication. She nods.
“Yes,” he says. “Why don’t you come into the study and we can talk before we eat.”
Spider Page 18
