Sweet Thing

by JA Huss

  “Who’s Sheila again?”

  “The one I met on Wednesday,” he says getting to his feet.

  “Right. No, I think I’m gonna go play some skins tonight, actually.”

  “Creative Co-op,” he says, shooting me with his finger. “Such a good move. They’re gonna love us. There’s not gonna be any bad press with this gentrification.”

  I don’t say anything, just stare at him.

  “Gotcha,” he says. “You’re in a dick mood so that’s my cue to leave. Catch you tomorrow, Ryker.”

  I wave at him as he leaves. Watching him through the open door of my office as he talks to the staff and gathers his stuff.

  Nothing up there but fluff, he said.

  It’s probably true, too. Hell, Aria even told me she’s looking to date someone her own age. And she’s thinking about college and prom.

  I should just forget about her. Pretend it never happened.

  But that night, when I go in to the Creative Co-Op, I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed that she’s not there. Because I’m totally pretending to be working on something so she can get a glimpse of me. Or whatever…

  I play the drums well into the early morning hours and tell myself I won’t drive by her place to see if the light’s on. But I do. And it’s not.

  I go into the co-op every night after too. Hoping she’ll be there. But the only person I see is the ballerina, who might have a thing for me because she hangs out and talks to me in her leotard and tutu and flirts, and giggles, even when I make it very clear I’m not interested.

  I drive by Aria’s house on my way home each night and by Friday I’m driving by in the mornings and taking a late lunch so I can catch her coming out of class at the college.

  Not once do I even get a glimpse of her.

  But that afternoon I have a reason to call her.

  My test results came in. Clean, just like I promised. And I don’t want to slide them under her cube door. Because I really don’t think she’s even been in to the co-op since she walked away on Monday.

  She doesn’t pick up my call. Sends me straight to voicemail. I sigh as the beep sounds. “Hey, Aria. Hope you’re well. Just wanted to let you know my tests came back clean. So no worries, OK? And I’ll be at the co-op tonight. My regular time. So if you want to see them…” God. I feel so stupid right now. “You know what to do.”

  I end the call and slide my phone across the desk, glancing up at the clock.

  It’s fucking Friday afternoon and I have no date. Last Friday I met her. One week. I’ve known this girl one week.

  And she’s the only thing I can think about.

  “Ready?” Ozzy says. “The car is waiting.”

  “For?” I ask.

  “Jesus Christ,” Ozzy says. “What the hell is your problem this week? Drinks with the banker? Ringing any bells?”

  “Ah, yeah. Right. That. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - ARIA

  “Who was that?” my father asks, after I send the incoming call to voicemail. I’ve been spending all my time with him this week. Letting him pick me up from class to take me out to dinner, then dropping me off at home after. Trying to forget about Ryker North and his hot fingers between my legs.

  “No one,” I say.

  “No one?” my father asks. We’re sitting in the Corinthian Hotel this afternoon. He’s meeting clients after our early dinner, so we just came here. “Didn’t look like no one. Did you meet a nice boy at school?” He smiles at me.

  “Ugggh, Dad. I’m not talking about boys with you!”

  “So there is a boy?” he says.

  “No!” I say. “There’s no boy, I swear.”

  It’s not even a lie because Ryker North is a man. He hasn’t been a boy for a very long time.

  “Well, when there is, I need to meet him.”

  “You will,” I say. “Don’t worry, Dad. I would never date anyone you didn’t approve of first.”

  “Did you enjoy your meal?” he asks a little while later. “I’ve never heard of truffle grilled cheese. Interesting. But you usually like the club.”

  Yup. I went there. Because I felt like a total ass after that whole meltdown I had with Ryker over this sandwich and you know what? He was right. It’s not for kids. I don’t even like it. “It’s OK,” I say, then wrinkle my nose. “Should’ve gotten the club.”

  “We have time. Would you like to order something else?”

  “Umm… yeah,” I say. “I would. April didn’t exactly stock the fridge before she left and I haven’t had a chance to go shopping.”

  My father flags down a waiter and orders me a club, then looks at his watch. “I’m going to go check the lobby, sweetheart. See if the clients are here yet. Be right back.”

  “Sure, Dad,” I say.

  He walks off and I take a moment to check my voicemail.

  “Hey, Aria. Hope you’re well. Just wanted to let you know my tests came back clean. So no worries, OK? And I’ll be at the co-op tonight. My regular time. So if you want to see them… you know what to do.”

  I know what to do.

  Actually, I don’t know what to do. I have no clue what to do. I thought it would be pretty easy to forget about Ryker North. He’s way too old for me. And he’s bossy. And that whole thing in the restaurant—this restaurant—it was weird. Hot and all that. But weird. I can’t seem to make up my mind. Did I like it? Did I hate it? Was it embarrassing? Was it fun?

  It was all those things and that’s so confusing.

  He’s confusing. Hell, I’m confusing.

  But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still interested in him. I know he’s been at the co-op because I’ve walked by there every night and I could hear him playing. I want to go inside and say something. Apologize for overreacting.

  But did I overreact?

  I’m not sure.

  But he’ll be there tonight and he gave me a reason to stop by, right? Which maybe means he wants to see me too.

  Should I go over there? Or should I ignore this message? He said his test results came back clean and I believe him. I wasn’t really that worried about sex diseases anyway. He’s a grown-up. He knows how to avoid that kind of situation. I’d be more worried about a boy my own age because they’re stupid, and impulsive, and safe sex isn’t exactly the most pressing matter when the mood hits.

  “Aria,” my father says, suddenly at the table again. “I’d like you to meet my clients, Oswald Herrington III”—he pans his hand to one man—“and Ryker North. They’re developers who…”

  But I don’t hear the rest. Because Ryker North is standing next to my dad—in the same restaurant where he fingered me last week—and my dad is patting him on the back and smiling like they are old friends.

  Oh, my God. Are they old friends?

  I just sit there, my mouth open, and stare at them like an idiot as they all unbutton their suit coats and settle into their chairs.

  “Um…” I say. “I was just leaving.” And as soon as I say that the waiter comes, deposits my club sandwich in front of me, and removes the mostly uneaten truffle grilled cheese.

  “There you go, sweetie,” he says. “And no charge for this one,” indicating the plate in his hand.

  “Oh, Aria,” my father says. “I forgot you ordered another plate.”

  “She can stay,” the Oswald guy says. “Go ahead,” he says, looking at me. “Finish your meal. But I have to warn you, we’re pretty boring.”

  He smiles at me, then my father, and my father must like this idea, because he smiles back and says, “Sure, Aria. Finish your dinner.”

  Finish my dinner. God, if I didn’t feel like a child last week, I definitely do now.

  I look down at my plate and start nibbling the end of a French fry.

  I glance up at Ryker and find him staring at me as my father starts talking about business. But he puts up a hand, smiles, and says, “I’m sorry. Was that the world-famous truffle grilled cheese you just sent back?”


  “Oh, she thought it would be like a regular grilled cheese,” my father says. “But she didn’t care for it.”

  “Oh,” Ryker says. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s one of my favorites here. I get it all the time. In fact,” he says, looking at Oswald, “I’m gonna order it tonight.”

  “Maybe I should just take it home—“

  “No, no, no,” Ryker says. “Stay. Don’t let us interrupt your dinner.”

  “No,” I say, motioning to our waiter. “Excuse me, can I get a take-home bag for this, please?”

  “Sure,” he says, smiling as he grabs my plate and bustles off to pack it up.

  “Are you sure, Aria?” my dad says. “We don’t mind you hanging around.”

  “No, I’m fine, Dad. I’m sure you have a lot of boring grown-up things to discuss. I’ll just be the fourth wheel.” I pull out my phone and start tapping. “I’ll just order a car home.”

  “We can take you home,” Oswald says, pulling out his phone too. “Our company driver just left. He’s probably only a block or two away.” He smiles at my dad, who smiles back like this is the perfect solution. His precious daughter being treated preciously by his clients.

  I want to gag. And open my mouth to protest but Oswald is already talking to the driver. He ends the call and says, “He’s still out front. Ryker, show Miss Amherst where the car is while I go over some things with Mr. Amherst, will you?”

  Ryker says, “Sure.”

  Just as I say, “That’s not necessary.”

  And my dad says, “Thank you, Mr. North.”

  And the waiter plops my takeaway bag down in front of me and says, “There you go, sweetie, all set now.”

  I just sit there for a moment, unsure what to do, just very, very sure that I should not be alone with Ryker North while my father is in the same room.

  But Ryker stands, buttoning his suit coat, and says, “Right this way, Miss Amherst,” as he comes over to pull out my chair.

  This little display of chivalry makes my father absolutely beam.

  I get up, walk over to my dad, kiss him on the cheek, and say, “Thank you, Daddy. See you on Monday.”

  “Have a nice weekend, sweetheart!” he calls. But then he waggles his finger at me and says, “Just don’t have too much fun!”

  And Ryker North pans his hand towards the front of the restaurant and says, “This way.”

  I walk in front of him and he makes no move to catch up to me or talk until we enter the main lobby of the hotel, at which point he says, “So the truffle grilled cheese was a bad decision all the way around, huh?”

  “I don’t think we should talk.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, ignoring my statement. “I shouldn’t have… well, any of it. So I’m sorry.”

  “Hmm,” I say, as we near the lobby doors.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Any of it?” I ask.

  “Look, Aria,” he says, waving me forward into the revolving door. He steps in with me and in those two seconds of absolute privacy he says, “I like you. But you deserve better.”

  And then we’re outside walking towards a black car, and a driver is pulling the rear door open for me, and I don’t even get a moment to say anything, because I just scoot inside and the door closes behind me.

  I look over at Ryker, trying to get one last look, but he’s already turned back to his business meeting.

  CHAPTER TWLEVE - RYKER

  I take deep, deep breaths on my way back to the table. Ozzy cannot know how close we came to blowing up this deal. We need this. Our whole plan depends on this one last loan to get us through the project so it actually pays off.

  But Aria. Jesus. Why is the universe fucking with me? It’s bad enough that I can’t get that girl off my mind, even worse that I took her virginity and then fingered her in this very restaurant, and now I find out her father holds our future in his hands.

  “There he is!” Ozzy says. “Did you make sure Mr. Amherst’s daughter got in the car safely?”

  I smile at her father. “She’s well taken care of, sir. No issues, I promise.”

  He beams at me, then looks at Ozzy. “Well, I’m very impressed with your thoughtful plan for the Gingerbread neighborhood, Mr. Herrington. As I’m sure you’re aware, this neighborhood is dear to my heart. My older daughter lives there and we started the Creative Co-Op to support the local artists.”

  “We know,” Ozzy says. “Ryker here is a drummer from way back. We actually just purchased a space over there this week. Ryker’s getting back to his bad-boy roots!”

  “No,” I say. “No bad-boy roots.”

  “Ah, come on,” Ozzy says. “He’s being modest. This guy grew up with Kenner McConnell. They taught each other drums back in high school.”

  “Who?” Mr. Amherst asks.

  “Nobody,” I say.

  “Nobody?” Ozzy says, laughing. “He’s only the drummer of one of the greatest rock bands of all time.”

  “Who?” Amherst asks again.

  “It’s not important,” I say. And I’m kinda irritated with Ozzy for mentioning it. It was a weird time in my life, and not a good weird, either. And Ozzy never approved of that old life, so right now he’s only doing this to impress Aria’s father. Even worse, I’m not sure it’s working.

  “Son of a Jack,” Ozzy says, doubling down and ignoring my cues that I really don’t want Aria’s dad’s first impression of me to be one associated with the most controversial bands to hit the scene in the last two decades.

  “Oh,” Amherst says. “I think I’ve heard of them. I’m pretty sure April, my older daughter, saw them in concert a few times.” Then he winks at me. “She’s my outrageous one. She’s in Australia photographing models right now or I’d introduce you. But Aria…” He sighs. “Aria is my sweet one. She’s not into that kind of scene.”

  Jesus Christ. I’m going to hell for what I did with his sweet thing of a daughter. What was I thinking?

  “In fact,” Ozzy says, “aren’t they on tour right now? I think they’re coming here to play over Fourth of July.” He looks excitedly at Amherst. “Ryker will get in touch with them and see if they have time to meet your daughter.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she would love that!” Amherst beams.

  I just give up and nod. “Sure. Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

  The rest of the meeting goes pretty much like that. Ozzy and Amherst hitting it off wildly and me picturing what my eternal sentence in hell might look like. Because it’s very clear that the whole reason Amherst gave his younger daughter a big old diamond ring for her eighteenth birthday was because it’s a giant hands-off signal for anyone who thinks they can take his place in her sweet, young heart.

  But… success. Amherst, Ozzy, and I leave the restaurant with a firm handshake deal on the final loan we’ll need to finish the project.

  I beg off after that, telling Ozzy that I’m just gonna walk home and I’ll see him on Monday, while he takes the car back to the office to go over the loan papers.

  When I get home I change into jeans and a t-shirt and wait for nine o’clock to roll around so I can go over to the co-op and drum off some steam. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed music until this past week and used it to take my mind off Aria.

  Didn’t work. In fact, it made me think of her more. The way she came in that night of her birthday. Her father outside in the car while I went all alpha on her.

  The devil is saving me a special place in hell for all this, I can feel it. How is it that one sweet girl could bring back all the bad-boy tendencies hiding deep inside me? I’ve done a great job of forgetting where I came from, and who I was, and all the fucked-up trouble I used to get into before I left home and came here to start over in college.

  It was a lot of luck, but it was a lot of hard work too.

  But the past is tattooed on my soul and on my body, so there’s no way to leave all that shit behind.

  And what the fuck is up with Ozzy bringing up Kenner and
his band? Seriously have not even thought about that guy in over a decade. And tonight, the one night I would very much like to keep all my secret past transgressions buried, I not only have to acknowledge them, I have to make a fucking phone call to Kenner McConnell and beg him to meet someone’s daughter when they play here in the summer. And to top it all off—as if this situation couldn’t get any worse—Amherst invited Ozzy and me to his country club Spring Fling in two weeks so he can introduce us to all his friends.

  Which means we have to go.

  At exactly eight forty-five I go down to the garage, get in my car, and drive over to the co-op. It’s nine on the dot when I walk through the door and I’m surprised by two things.

  One, Aria is in her cube. And two, so is that pesky ballerina.

  Like, seriously? The universe can’t cut me one break? I know I told Aria I’d be here tonight—practically invited her to meet me—but after meeting her father, who I realize I genuinely like, not to mention respect, it was a horrible idea.

  And I can’t even talk to her the way I want, because I’m certain the ballerina has a thing for me. She’s been hanging out all fucking week trying to make me notice her.

  I pass by Aria’s cube and accidentally make eye contact with her. We both look away quickly. But then I remember I have my test results in my back pocket and pull out the envelope and hold it up for her to see through the glass.

  She pushes back from her computer and opens the door.

  “Here you go,” I say. “Also…” I glance down the hallway where the ballerina—what the fuck is her name? I feel stupid calling her the ballerina—is watching us. “Just… yeah. It was nice meeting your father today. He seems like a really good guy.”

  She stares at me for a moment. Then the envelope. Then me again. “Thanks,” she says, taking it from my hand. “I really wasn’t that worried about it.”

  “Well…” Yeah, I got nothing for that. “OK. See you around.”

  I turn back to the hallway, wave a hello finger at the ballerina, go inside my cube, and close the door behind me. I kick off my shoes and walk over to my kit, grabbing my sticks off the shelf.