“Gee, I can’t imagine why. He was living on Rich’s couch at the time. Oh, God, please tell me you didn’t do it on the couch.” When I squirmed, and looked at the floor, she squealed, waving her hands around. “Oh, gross, Mims!”
“We got caught up in the moment,” I said, wincing.
“I used to hang out on that couch with Rich after Alex left,” she said, groaning.
“Oh, please, tell me you guys didn’t do it on there.”
She squinted, wrinkling her nose. “Not after he moved out…”
“Ew! Before! I had sex where you had sex!”
She waved her hands frantically, grossed out. The glass of wine I had drunk took effect and we both dissolved into giggles.
She started her second glass of wine, raising it to me before taking a sip. “Remember Bradford?” She rolled her eyes, affecting a strong, WASP-y accent when she said his name.
“Oh, him. I tried to forget him. What a stuck-up prick.”
“Remember that time you tried to call him Brad?” she giggled.
“Yeah, and then he launched into a twenty-minute monologue about the origin of his name and how it stretched back to the Revolution. Talk about insufferable. He’s probably engaged to a girl named Angelina or Muffy or something.”
“Muffy?” We both burst out laughing. I should have known then that it was time to slow down. It wasn’t all that funny, but we leaned on each other and cracked up like it was.
“I think we should get something to eat,” Megan suggested, wiping tears from her eyes. “I need to soak up all this wine.”
“Agreed.” We ordered a plate of French fry nachos, which was basically nothing more than nachos with fries in place of chips. A work of genius, in other words.
“Okay, I’ve gotta ask.” She folded her arms on the table, leaning forward. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but what are you going to do about your job after this?”
Mimi
“I’m not leaving, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” I said fiercely.
“You’re sure you can face him?”
“He’s not my boss. It’s a big department. I don’t have to deal closely with him if I don’t want to. I can still be professional.”
She frowned. “Mimi. Not that you’re immature or unprofessional, but you’re going to need time to get over what happened.”
“I’ll be just fine. I refuse to let him ruin things for me. I’ve worked too damn hard to earn respect in that job, and I’m so close to that promotion.” I sat back in my chair, swirling the Pinot Grigio in my glass. “I don’t want him to win. He lied and cheated. I know he’ll keep going on with his life like nothing happened between us. He’s just that oblivious. So why should my career suffer if his doesn’t?”
“Damn straight, girl.” She clicked her glass against mine. “Don’t let him determine what happens with your life. You’re the one in control. You call the shots.”
“Why do I feel like I keep running up against the same issues over and over again?” I mused.
“What do you mean?”
“Between this and the bullshit with the buyer in my building.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“But it reminds me that there are people in the world who think they can do whatever they want. They can force people out of their homes, they can cheat on their girlfriend. Their pregnant girlfriend.”
“Then again, there are people like you who are stronger and better than all that. You’ll come out on top because it’s where you belong.”
“You’re right.”
She cupped a hand around her ear. “I’m sorry? I didn’t hear you.”
“You’re right!”
“As always.”
Our nachos came, and for a little while, there was nothing else in the world except for them. And more wine. Before I knew it, the lunch crowd was long gone and the Happy Hour crowd had started to trickle in. After we’d killed our nachos, we followed it with an order of chicken fingers. We’d also consumed enough wine to make the room spin.
“I guess I should’ve gone back to work,” Megan muttered.
“One of the perks of being a manager,” I grinned, leaning my head on my hand. Everything was awesome. I was in a great mood. I had the best friend in the world, I had a great apartment, I had a great life in the best city in the world. Life was beautiful from where I sat.
Then I stood up, and things got a lot less beautiful. I realized, dimly, somewhere in the teeny tiny corner of my mind where sobriety still existed, that I’d spent the entire afternoon sitting in one spot. I had no idea how drunk I was until I stood up. And then? Oh, boy.
“Shit, I’m wasted.” I heard myself slurring. I told myself to stop slurring, which, of course, only made things worse.
“You want me to take a cab with you?” Megan asked.
“Nah. We’re in opposite directions,” I said, stumbling towards the door. I laughed at myself, then hated myself for laughing. I didn’t like getting this drunk when I was out and about in the world. If I was at a friend’s place and could crash, awesome. Otherwise, I tried to maintain a buzz. Then again, I didn’t normally find out the guy I was ready to become exclusive with had just impregnated his girlfriend. It was a big day of firsts for me.
I managed to get my address right after falling into a cab, which as far as I was concerned was a good step in the right direction. The ride to my building was sort of a blur, during which I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the closed window. I already imagined calling out the next morning. It would have to be a long-lasting stomach bug. I’d probably sound like hell when I called Tracee, so that was a plus.
Only one problem. When I reached my front stoop and dug through my purse for my keys, my hand touched nothing that resembled keys.
“What the hell?” I muttered, finally sitting down on the steps with my purse spread open. I used my phone’s flashlight to get a better look. Drunkenly, I upended my purse. Huh. Wallet, makeup, tissue, mints.
Then I remembered putting my keys down on my desk that morning, having used the electronic fob on my keychain to get into the building. And I’d never picked them back up.
“Shit! What an idiot?” I cursed my head in my hands. “Damn and hell!” What did I do now? I was wasted on my front stoop with no way to get into my apartment.
Mimi
Sitting on the front stoop, feeling drunker than I’d been in a very long time, I hazily tried to think of what to do. I couldn’t even get through the entrance door without my key, much less my apartment. The idea of climbing up the fire escape and trying my bedroom window occurred to me, but even I wasn’t drunk enough to think that might be a good idea in my condition. I wasn’t the most coordinated person while sober.
This was probably the worst day of my life in years, and it was only getting worse. I was dangerously close to crossing the line from fun drunk into depressed drunk—actually, no, I was actively stepping over the line at that point.
I leaned against the stone banister with a sigh. Why me?
Should I call Megan and ask to crash with her? I dreaded the thought of the cab journey all the way to her place. I should call the building supervisor, I decided. Only I couldn’t remember his number and wasn’t sure I could make sense of my contact list just then. I was sure the Universe was watching me as the subject of an intergalactic prank show. My episode had finally come up.
“Hello?”
I opened my eyes, squinting to focus on the figure standing at the foot of the steps. When he came into focus, my stomach sank. Yep. A bunch of unseen beings were laughing their butts off at me just then. Because it was him. My neighbor. Mr. My Shit Doesn’t Stink.
Of course, he looked just as yummy as he had that morning, only he’d lost the tie at some point. His shirt was open at the collar—in other words, just when I thought he couldn’t get more ridiculously handsome, he showed me how little I knew.
“He
llo,” I said, sitting up and gathering my dignity.
He looked back and forth, then up at me. “Do you need help with something?”
“Does it look like I need help?”
“Are you really asking me that question?” I thought I saw a smile on his face. I knew I heard it in his voice. Still, I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me to be mean, or just because I looked like a hot mess. He hadn’t exactly proven himself to be a nice guy up to that point.
“I thought I would sit outside for a while,” I explained.
“To clear your head a little? It usually helps me after I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Wow,” I said, eyes wide. “Judgmental much?”
“Excuse me?”
“You just assumed I’ve had too much to drink.”
“It wasn’t an assumption. You’re slurring all over the place.”
“I’m not slurring. I’m talking in cursive.”
“I can smell the alcohol from up here.”
“You so cannot.” I held a hand in front of my mouth and breathed on it, then breathed in. “Yep. You probably can.”
“And I’m not judging. I’ve seen some pretty wasted chicks in my time, and you don’t even rank.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have,” I said, rolling my eyes. I leaned against the banister again, deciding what the hell. He knew I was drunk. I didn’t care anymore.
“Haven’t you?” He started up the steps, slowly. “It’s New York. All you have to do is hang out in front of a club on a Saturday night. Any club.” He sat down beside me, forearms on his knees. “I’d give you a hundred bucks for every girl who walks out with her shoes on her feet instead of in her hands.”
I didn’t mean to laugh. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But I did, snorting loudly for good measure. That made him laugh, too. He had a nice laugh. It made my toes curl.
“I’ll have to take you up on that,” I said.
“You should. I don’t expect to lose much money.” He looked around again. “So, you’re locked out?”
I nodded. “I left my keys at work.”
“And then you sucked down a few bottles of wine.”
I lifted my forefinger and pointed it at him. “That sounds pretty judgmental for a person who’s not judging me.”
“But it’s also probably a fact.” He slid a sleek phone from his pants pocket. “I’ll call the Super for you.”
“You will?” I couldn’t have explained why that touched me the way it did, but I felt all fluttery at the offer. There are some kind people left in the world.
“No problem.” He looked over at me. “By the way, I’m Max.”
Max, short for Maximus. “I’m Mimi Young”
He reached the Super. I listened to him ask him to come by. Then he nodded a few times and hung up. “Mimi Young, this is not your night. I’m sorry to tell you that.”
I groaned, throwing my head back. “Why?”
“Because the Super’s at his kid’s school show, and it doesn’t let out until ten.” Max shook his head, then muttered, “I really didn’t need his whole life story.”
“Three hours?”
“It’s a good sign that you can still do basic math.”
“Ugh.” I couldn’t believe my luck. I truly couldn’t.
“No chance in getting back to work to pick up the keys, huh?”
I frowned as I thought about it. My passkey was on that keychain and the building was completely secure at night. “No. Like the guard wouldn’t even let me in without it.”
Max blew out a long breath. “Well, there’s only one thing to do.”
“What?”
“You can wait in my place if you want. It’s only three hours. Not a tragedy.”
I side-eyed him. “You don’t have anything better to do?”
“Would I offer if I had anything better to do?”
“So, if you had something better to do you would leave me sitting out here.”
He smirked. “Probably. Come on.”
Mimi
I was determined to stand on my own since I still had a modicum of dignity left, or so I told myself. What I did not have, I soon found out, was coordination. I couldn’t seem to make my legs work. I heard him sigh, then felt his hands grip my biceps as he lifted me up. The fact that he could do that so easily was not lost on me.
When we got in the elevator, I leaned against the wall and watched him openly. In the light, he looked even better than he had in the dark.
“What?” he asked, looking down at me out of the corner of his eye. He had at least a half-foot on me even though I was in heels.
“Do you think it’s weird? Like, does it ever feel weird to you?”
“Does what feel weird?”
“Living as one of only two people in our whole building?”
He waited a moment, then nodded. “Not really.”
“You won’t cave in to those bastards, will you? They can buy everybody else out, but they can’t buy us. We’ll stand our ground and fight them until the very end,” I declared dramatically.
He stared at me. “To the very end,” he agreed softly.
“I woke up this morning and felt like I was in one of those disaster movies where only a few people are left.”
“Like The Stand.”
“Oh, that movie was awful.”
“Terrible,” he agreed. “The book was much better.”
“But you see what I mean.”
“I do.” He grinned. “Well, at least you’re not totally alone. Otherwise, you’d still be sitting out there on the steps.”
“You don’t know that. I might know people in the neighborhood.”
The doors opened, and Max stepped out with a knowing grin. “Who?”
“Joe.”
“Joe who? And don’t say Smith.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I put all my effort into walking a straight line as we made our way down the hall.”
“So, you don’t know anybody in the neighborhood. Just admit it. It’s not a crime. This is New York. It would be weird if you did.”
“Okay, I don’t.” I leaned against the wall while Max unlocked the door.
He grinned. “So, I’m kind of your savior right now?”
“I could just as easily sit out in front of my door for the next three hours.”
He stopped just short of opening his door. “You’re right. See ya.”
“No, no. Come on. I was just kidding.”
He smiled—he had a really, really nice smile, when he bothered to show it off—and opened the door.
“Whoa.” I dropped my purse just inside the door, stunned at what I saw. “This is waaaaaay bigger than my place! How many bedrooms is this?”
“Um, three?”
“Wow. Your living room is twice the size of mine. Maybe three times.” I walked around, running my hands over the furniture. All new, all very nice. Mine was from Ikea or Goodwill. His had actually come from a furniture store, and it actually matched. “And your view!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice.”
“My view is of the back alley. This is better than nice.” I could see the entire street out his living room windows, not to mention the city skyline over the tops of the roofs across the street. “This is fantastic. I can see why you don’t want to leave. I wouldn’t, either.”
“It’s nice,” he said again. “I like the area.” He paused then added meaningfully. “And the scenery.”
His comment flew over my head for a second as I stood by the window, but as the meaning of his words sank in, I felt my cheeks redden.
“Then how come you’ve never been very nice to me when I’ve run into you before?” I asked, turning halfway.
He slid out of his suit jacket, folding it carelessly over the back of a leather club chair. I could make out the size of his shoulders and biceps through the cut of his white shirt. My stomach fluttered a little—maybe not a good thing, considering the amount of food and booze in there. I’d always been
a girl who loved a solid set of shoulders, and his were impressive. Much like the rest of him, come to think of it.
“I’m not always great with strangers,” he admitted. “And I’m usually lost in my own head when I’m alone.”
“I don’t understand.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “I mean I’m usually distracted. I have a million things going on in my head all the time. That’s all. People take that as rudeness when I’m just…oblivious, I guess. Not something I’m proud of.”
I looked him up and down, trying to decide if he was sincere or not. Then I gave up since I was no judge of character in my condition, and his smile and dimples were too distracting.
“You want something to drink?” he asked.
I brightened. “You have any wine?”
“Yeah, but I was thinking water might be a better idea right now. No offense, but I like my furniture puke-free.”
I was just about to protest when a nasty belch worked its way up my esophagus. Oh, sexy, I thought in panic. I managed to keep my mouth closed, turning my head away from where he stood. “Yeah,” I agreed when it had passed. “Water’s great.”
I watched as he walked into the open kitchen, which also happened to be three times larger than mine. It was very sleek, all black and chrome. Very masculine. I wondered how much work he’d had done in there. I would have asked, only the sight of his tight butt was more interesting just then. He was bent and pulling two bottles of water from a low shelf in his fridge.
I suddenly hoped the Super took all night to get here.
Mimi
“Come. Sit.” Max sat on the black leather sofa, then patted the spot beside him. “Take a load off. I’m sure your feet are killing you in those things.”
I looked down at my heels. “These? They’re probably my most comfortable shoes.”
Kissing Booth Page 19
