by Holley Trent
“You know what, you sound really brave right now, saying all this through the phone, but you gonna say it to my face, too? Or are you going to show up for work on Monday with your hand held out for your paycheck, toeing the line as always?”
Well, she got direct deposit so that was hardly a concern. He had a point, though. She wasn’t going to start shit at work without a back-up plan, and he knew it.
“So, where are you? What is it that you’re done doing?”
“Besides you?”
He exhaled forcefully, tinged ever so slightly with a growl. “Get your ass into work on Monday or I’ll make sure HR knows what your past extracurricular activities were.”
She didn’t have a good response for that, so she disconnected.
Chapter 15
Curt spat out a stream of expletives that could have made a computer blush, assuming the damned thing was working. His wasn’t. He’d spent thirty minutes running a remote simulation for Prizm and the goddamned machine crashed. Just grinded to a goddamned halt the moment he’d started moving money around.
“Fuck!” He pounded the desktop and picked up his cell phone. His computer wasn’t that old. It was more than capable of running the scheme, so he suspected the client had some sort of pushback in place designed to corrupt the machines of whoever dared try them.
“Fuckers.”
Before he could bring up the keypad on his phone, his sister Jenny’s picture appeared on the incoming call screen.
“Yeah?” He rolled his chair to the far corner of the room and fetched his laptop from his satchel. “Whatever is, I hope it’s important. I’m up to my dick in fatal errors over here.”
“Uh, okay, you shit. Listen, Da’s here.”
He shook his head. Perhaps I didn’t hear her right. “Say again?”
“Our father? The fat fuck? The cockroach? The–”
“Yes, love, I get the who, repeat the fuckin’ what.”
“He’s here.”
“And by here you mean your house?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Well, at the current moment he’s sitting on my fuckin’ sofa waitin’ on me to fetch his tea.”
“Who let him in?”
“Who do you think?”
He closed his eyes and groaned.
“I suppose she didn’t have much choice, Curt. He kept knocking, shoutin’ at her from outside, you know? Neighbors were watchin’, reporters were out there takin’ it all in. Danny tried to go out and curse him, but Mum said it was too embarrassing, so he’s inside now.”
“When’s he leaving?”
“Uh…that, I can’t say. Looks like he’s settlin’ in for a good, long visit.”
“Give him the phone.”
“Curt–”
“Jenny, give him the fucking phone, or what else do you expect me to do from North Carolina, huh?”
“It’s not going to help. You know how he is. Makes you feel real small like no matter what you’re saying is the wrong thing and that he knows best.”
“Where’s Mum?”
“Crying in the bedroom.”
Curt took off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids. “I’d tell you to call the Guard to make him leave, but I don’t think they’re interested in doing us any favors right about now.”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
He sighed. “Look, try to keep Mum in her room. I’ll get the first flight I can.”
“I know you’ll figure something out. Bye.” She ended the call.
Curt shoved his laptop back into his bag and headed for his closet as he waited for Bridget to pick up her office phone.
“Yes, Mr. Math?”
“You owe me a fucking computer.”
“Ouch. What’s wrong? You get a little boo-boo on that assignment? Should have warned you about that, but I figured it would be good training. You need to work closer with our little hacker geeks. That’s why we have them.”
He made a crude gesture she couldn’t see, but felt better for it.
“I’m going out of town for a few days. Need to handle some personal business.”
“I don’t really care, Curt. Check your email every now and then and I won’t even tell HR.”
“You owe me that much for moving up my start date.”
“Blame yourself. Learn to read words and not just numbers and you’ll get in less trouble. Ta ta.”
He growled and tossed the phone onto the bed. “Seth!” He shouted down the hall.
Seth poked his head out of his bedroom. “What happened?”
“Gotta fly home to deal with my father. I should be back by Monday, but if I’m not, can you sit in on my nine AM calc class? It’s an exam day.”
Seth nodded. “Maybe if you have time to look around while you’re there, you could find me a girl? Since you’re off the market and such.”
Curt dumped underwear and socks into his duffel bag. “Who said I was off the market?”
Seth rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“How so?”
“What would it take for you to stay still? To stop using women as little stepping-stones? You just flit from one to the next without assessing anything, without learning anything. What’s wrong with the Cuban?”
Curt huffed. “There’s not a damned thing wrong with her. She’s perfect.”
“That’s my point.”
“We’re not trying to walk down the aisle tomorrow, Seth. We’re just letting things unfold as they will.” It sounded ridiculous, even to him. He knew how Erica made him feel when she was around. It was probably the same way Grant felt when he was around Carla. Certainly explained the dumb grin on his face.
Seth threw up his hands. “I don’t understand this world. They just fall into your lap and you brush them off. I can’t even get a woman to dance with me at the clubs, forget about a one-night-stand. And you go through women like they’re tissues. Just blow your nose once, drop in trash.”
Curt stared at his friend. He hadn’t known how sensitive the guy was about his social inadequacies. “Are you alright, Seth? Feeling okay?”
“You tell me. Why Grant? Why you? Why not me?”
Curt dropped a couple of t-shirts into his bag and sighed. He didn’t know the answer to that. He knew, deep down inside, that of the two of them, Seth was the far better person. He didn’t have to try to be kind, because he’d been programmed that way. He may have lacked Grant’s finesse and Curt’s charm, but the guy had a lot going for him. Just maybe not the stuff women looked for.
He was the poor, idiosyncratic geek who lived in the friend zone. The women he fell too-easily in love with kept his number on hand in case they needed a ride home after a date gone wrong. Or if something went wrong with their cars, they’d call him. Curt had witnessed it time and time again. He’d answer the apartment phone.
“Is Seth there?” some woman would ask.
Curt would hand off the phone, and watch Seth’s hopeful expression droop in seconds.
“Gotta go give her car a jump,” he’d say, already reaching for his keys.
Curt pushed his glasses up and blew out a breath. “I don’t know, big guy, but Sharon would probably tell you there’s someone for everyone.” Hadn’t he found someone?
“The mail order bride system suddenly holds a lot of appeal for me.”
“Yeah, you go ahead and do that, bud.” Curt zipped his bag and pulled a hoodie sweatshirt down from a hanger before flipping off the lightswitch. “Then hold her in quarantine for six months until you’re sure she’s not a carrier for plague.”
Seth followed him to the kitchen and watched him gather his keys and wallet. “I’d rather die of plague than die alone healthy.”
“Fuck, you’re morbid. I didn’t know you were that lonely.”
Seth rolled his eyes. “Bah. I’m a romantic. I have feelings. I guess women don’t like that.”
Curt tossed his keys from hand to hand and studied his old friend’s expression. M
aybe he was right. He’d certainly never expressed any to any woman. But he’d never gone beyond one date before now, either. Hardly a representative sampling. Who the fuck knew what women wanted? Not him. Up until lately, he hadn’t cared.
* * * *
When Erica and Sharon made it back to Curt and Seth’s house later after a long day of shopping–also known as torture to Erica–the house was dark, save for one upstairs light, and Curt’s car was missing.
The door was open and they let themselves in.
“Hey, Seth?” Sharon called up the stairs.
“Hey, Shar.”
“Where’s Curt, honey?”
“Uh.”
Erica and Sharon shared a look. That didn’t sound like a good Uh.
Moments later, he pounded down the stairs, turning on lights as he traveled. “Uh.” He looked from one woman to the other and scratched his head.
“Curt knew I was coming back. Where’d he go?” Erica asked. She set her shopping bags at her feet and ferreted her phone from her purse. She scrolled through the address book and pulled up Curt’s mobile number.
“Uh.”
Sharon gave his arm a light cuffing. “Spit it out, Seth.”
“He left a couple of hours ago. He had to fly home to deal with some shit.”
He flew home? Erica ground her teeth.
“And he didn’t know he’d be leaving this morning before Erica left?” Sharon asked.
He put his hands up and his eyes went wide. “Whoa, whoa. Don’t shoot the letter carrier.”
Erica squinted at him. Huh?
Sharon tapped her arm. “He’s bad at that. Seth, when’s he coming back?”
“He hoped by Monday. Wanted me to sit in on his class just in case.”
Well then. Now you know where you stand. Not like you had plans or anything.
Erica wrapped her fingers through the handles of her shopping bags and heaved them up. “I guess I’ll head home. I’m sure my boss has me on the calendar to shoot something tomorrow morning, anyway.”
Seth’s expression softened. “You can hang out if you want. Might get bored, though. Every other woman does.”
Sharon crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. “Seth, if you get your visa in order, I will personally play matchmaker for you.”
Erica grinned as she walked toward the door, in spite of how pissed she was. These people were a hoot.
“You will?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ll even give you a makeover.”
As she turned the doorknob, Erica laughed. Curt may have been an asshole, but at least he had good taste in friends.
“Erica!” Sharon called down the hall before Erica managed a step outside.
“Yeah?”
“Come hang with me next weekend. I’m coordinating a party. It’s going to be lame.”
“Who could say no to that?”
“I’ll call ya. And remember what I said about planting seeds.”
Erica fingered her car keys in her pocket and let out a little scoff. “I think the seeds have rotted, princesa.”
“Maybe you should plant them deeper.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Seth asked.
Erica left, wondering the same thing.
Chapter 16
“You’re a bit of a pain in the arse, aren’t ya?”
Curt squared his jaw and shifted his weight to his other foot. “You should know. Pretty sure I get that component of my DNA from you.”
His father picked up the remote control and shuffled through the channels, effectively dismissing him.
Curt wasn’t deterred. “When are you leaving?”
He scoffed and didn’t pull his stare from the television screen. “I’m not going nowhere. Perfectly content where I am.”
“This isn’t your house. It’s Jenny’s and Danny’s. You had a flat. Go to it.”
“More comfortable here.” The asshole had the gall to grin. “Besides, I got evicted.”
“Tough shit. Jenny doesn’t want you here.”
“Well, let her tell me that, then.”
“You know she won’t. She’s too nice. She’s like Mum. She’d rather be miserable than tell someone no.”
“And so, what? You’ve been elected the town crier? It your job to turn your old da out?” He laughed. “Good luck.”
Curt rubbed his eyes. Fuck. Why did I even come here? What did they think I’d be able to do? Appeal to his sense of morality? Not sure he has one anymore.
He paced in front of the door and eyed the empty console table in the hall. His mother’s purse had been there before, but Jenny had finally convinced her to stay somewhere else for a while. So, Mum went to lodge with one of the few friends she had left following the scandal. The friend happened to be a former nun turned innkeeper. Curt still wasn’t sure if Mum thought being in such close proximity to her husband was bad for her or if she’d simply been worn down by the collective needling of her children.
He turned toward his father and leaned against the doorframe. “Don’t you think you’ve screwed up enough shit?” he asked. “You’ve got a lot of gall coming in here acting like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t ruined lives.”
Dad finally turned off the television and cut his gaze toward the door. “You’re one to talk. You’re the one who made it a big deal. Made it so everyone knew.”
“What you’re doing is called shifting the blame, right? You really are a fucking sociopath.”
He shrugged and narrowed rheumy gray eyes at his son. “Pretty sure you got that DNA, too. You’re not too good for it.”
Curt said nothing. Maybe he was right. Maybe his asshole streak was incurable. Maybe he was really no better than his father. Maybe he wasn’t meant to love anyone. It didn’t feel that way, but his father had been charming once, hadn’t he? Had he changed, or did he get tired of faking being pleasant?
“Why don’t you just go? Leave, for Mum’s sake. She’ll probably never have anything of her own ever again because of what you did. At least leave her with some dignity. That’s a cheap thing. Even you can afford it.”
Dad snorted. “She’s nothing without me.”
“She did without you all those years when she was locked up, didn’t she? Didn’t hear a peep from you in all that time because you were so busy trying to disassociate yourself from what you did. How do you think that looks now with you being here? Makes it look like she’s complicit again, don’t it?”
Dad shrugged. “Oh well.”
“Do you even love her? Are you capable of it? Or does your worldview only extend to one person?”
Dad crossed his legs and turned the television back on.
“Right. Bastard.” Curt turned to leave, to give up. In the past, he probably would have thrown a punch. When he was younger, that’d always made him feel better, but age had given him wisdom on certain things. Punching his father, no matter how much he deserved it, wouldn’t make him leave. It’d just make him a martyr, and Curt an assaulter. Being physical would fail. Words had failed. Now what was left?
He was fully prepared to tell Jenny, Sorry, love, maybe he’ll get bored and leave when his father said to his back, “Everything would have been just fine if you hadn’t stuck your nose in it, Curt.”
Curt paused. He’d opened his mouth to tell his father to go to hell, but didn’t waste the energy. It would have been redundant, since he was likely on the path there already. He let the door close behind him.
His phone buzzed as he strode up the street toward where he’d left his rental car. He answered without checking the screen. “Yeah.”
“Curt Ryan, you really are an asshole.”
He stopped walking. It wasn’t the first time he’d answered his phone to be told off, but not by this particular person. He swallowed. “Am I?”
“You know you are.”
Didn’t he?
“Just for shits and giggles, why don’t you let me in on why?”
“Do you regul
arly roll out of bed after a good screw, tell your fuckee you’ll see her later, and board a plane for Ireland two hours later? That’s pretty assholey.”
He blew out a ragged breath and leaned against the driver’s door. Well, at least she waited a couple of days before chewing me out. “Do I regularly do that? No. But I wasn’t aware I needed to check in with you.” Fuck, that sounded nasty. He didn’t mean it. Wanted to take it back because she didn’t deserve it, but maybe it was for the best.
“Oh, okay. I see.” Erica’s voice was flat, but bitter. She mumbled something in Spanish and brought her mouth back to the receiver. “’Cause I’m just ass to you, right?”
“Whoa!” he exclaimed, nearly dropping the phone. “Where’d that come from?” What had gotten into her? It was like she’d gone from zero to sixty in no time flat. “Who am I talking to? Is this Erica Desoto? My Erica doesn’t do hysterics.”
“Your Erica?” She laughed. “Wanna try that again? By the way, my birth name is Ercilia.”
Fuck. He opened the driver’s door and sank into the seat. “Maybe that didn’t come out right.”
“Maybe it didn’t. I want to tell you something, Curt.” Her voice was clipped and veering dangerously close to anger.
“What?”
“I may not seem like the kind of girl who waits around for a man to call, but I guess I am. That seductress who looked you up and called your cell phone weeks ago? That’s not me. The real me would have waited days for you to call and when you didn’t, she would have given up on hearing from you. The real me wouldn’t have let you screw me in every conceivable way with no prospect of attachment in sight. The real me has all the spunk of an Irish potato. The real me wanted to, no, wants to pin you down and take care of you since apparently you’re not capable of doing it yourself. The real me was content with pretending to be someone I wasn’t just to spend time with you, because being with you feels so damned good, but you know what? The real me has changed a bit in the past few weeks. The real me wants you to go fuck yourself. I’ve been fucked enough. I’m bored with it now.”
