by S. E. Harmon
“Proving that you’re okay. I know, I know. Jesus.” He rolled his eyes. “Trust me. It wouldn’t be a problem. I was thinking about cashing in my favors for something monetary. Something big. Like a car, maybe. But I figured that would make me—”
“A shameless opportunist?” I suggested helpfully.
“A bad brother,” he finished with a glare. “You want my help or not?”
“Not. I don’t need to pretend my life is anything other than it is.” I shook my head. “When did it become pathetic and sad to be happy by yourself? Is that not allowed?”
He slumped in his chair. “Here we go.”
“No, I’m serious. Do you really need someone on your arm to be complete? Am I no less of a person because I’m perfectly all right being by myself?”
He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You know, that all sounds really good and healthy. But none of that is going to get you out of this blind date. Or the others. How many dates do you think Lane could set up in a weekend? In her hometown, no less?”
I swallowed, suitably scared. “A lot.”
“Besides, I’m more interested in you rubbing your happiness in Adam’s face than anything else.”
I scowled. “That’s immature.”
He shrugged. “I’m immature.”
I had to admit—he had me there.
At my silence, he sighed and pushed out of the chair. “I’m going to raid the fridge again.” He disappeared inside the house, the screen door sliding shut behind him quietly.
I sighed, clicking through my Facebook feed. I was officially a creeper. An undercover lurker. Any moment now, Chris Hansen was going to pop out of my bushes, offer me some lemonade and cookies, and ask me if this was something I usually did. Obstinately, I flicked through Adam’s photos again—there was plenty of time to register as a creepy offender later.
I was over him. Happy for him. But I couldn’t deny that seeing those engagement pictures made me feel some kind of way. I scrolled past a photo of the two of them on a tandem bike. Then another of the two of them sharing some sort of dessert stacked high with pineapple and whipped cream.
Anyone could look happy in pictures. It was one moment in time, a split second to smile. I looked at the picture of Adam and Nicole, slow-dancing under softly glowing Chinese lanterns. So maybe Adam was happy and maybe he wasn’t. But if a picture was worth a thousand words, this picture was talking. It was talking with its hand on its hip, and mostly it was saying, “Honey, I’m over you.”
I squinted at the sassy picture. “Shut up,” I muttered. Christ. I needed to get out more. And maybe see someone qualified to prescribe me something. Before I could change my mind, I called out for Julian. “Julie!”
After a moment, he cracked the screen door and stuck his head through. He had a pint of my whole fruit sorbet in one hand and a spoon handle sticking out of his mouth. “Don’t call me that. Whadd’ya want?”
I scowled. “Black cherry is my favorite. Isn’t that my last one?”
He scowled right back, pulling out the spoon and pointing it in my direction. “Didn’t you drink my last wine cooler?”
Oh. Memory refreshed. Indignation shelved. “I need a date,” I declared.
“Honey, you are not my type, fabulous hair notwithstanding.”
“Get over yourself, Sparks.” I flipped the aforementioned hair over my shoulder. I closed the browser window before I officially went insane. “Find me someone suitable.”
“What’s suitable?”
The word “suitable” really could mean just about anything. I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking. “I don’t know,” I finally said. “The usual suspects.”
“So…Kevin Spacey then?” Julian made a frustrated noise. “Come on, give me something to work with. Tall? Short? Blond? Brunette?”
“Just pick someone. Someone…nice.”
Nice. That sounded corny as hell, but that was where I was in my life. I didn’t care how he looked or what he did. I needed someone to play a role. Someone to take home and trot in front of my family to prove to everyone I was perfectly all right.
And if he could be hot enough to make Adam’s bottom lip drop like a scroll, well, I could probably live with that.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the end, I went to Julian’s party, just as we both knew I would. After helping him set up, I used his guest bedroom to shower and dress. I changed into a peach spaghetti-strap dress in deference to the warm, summery weather, and some sandals.
By the time I made it back out to the living room, the party was in full swing. I stood in the doorway, looking over heads and searching for Julian in the crush. I was relieved to see he’d been honest about the invite list—most people wore jeans and had some sort of beer in hand. My type of crowd. The music was some kind of indie rock that I didn’t recognize, and everyone seemed low-key and chill. Giving up on finding him for now, I migrated to the bar we’d set up in the dining area, and emerged five minutes later with a cocktail and a plate of jalapeno poppers.
I finally spotted Julian mingling in the crowd, being a good host, and he gave me a quick wave. At some point, he’d changed into tailored slacks and a Hugo Boss button-down, and he looked put-together as usual. He finally bulldozed a path through the crowd to get to me, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“You smell good,” I informed him, bussing him right back. I took one a jalapeno popper from my plate and popped it in his mouth. If I knew Julian as well as I thought I did, he’d probably been too busy being a perfect host to bother to eat.
He chewed, making yum-yum noises. “You look….”
I scowled. Julian never hesitated to let me know when I made a fashion misstep. To be perfectly honest, that was more often than not. “I look what?”
“It’s just that sometimes I forget…you look wow.”
“Oh, go on.”
As he took my glass from my slack grip and took a sip, I sighed in exasperation. I smacked him in the shoulder, none to gently. “I said go on.”
“Ow!” He allowed me to swipe my glass back, and sent me a scowl. “I already said you look fantastic, you crazy old bat.”
“Well, this dress wasn’t exactly cheap. I could stand to hear it again.”
“I’m glad you took the time to look good. This is the perfect place for you to find a date for your father’s party.”
“Are you crazy?” I hissed. “I told you, I’m not bringing some stranger—”
“He won’t be a stranger if you take him on a date!” he hissed back.
I plopped a hand on my hip. “I’m starting to think you took out a life insurance policy on me.”
“What?”
“That can be the only logical reason you’re so determined to get me murdered in my sleep by a random stranger.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can assure you that when you are murdered, it will not be by a stranger. I’ve more than earned that right.”
We both paused in our arguing at the flurry of activity near the front door. Looked like the guest of honor was here. Jackson barely got a foot in the door before he was surrounded by well-wishers and people who wanted a moment of his time. Most of those people appeared to be women. I shook my head with a slight grin. Same old, same old.
The redhead currently clinging to him like human Velcro clearly didn’t know about his relationship allergy. As she leaned into him, pressing her considerable breasts into his arm and trying to make it look like an accident, I grinned. Perhaps I didn’t quite know who was the hunter and who was the prey.
His eyes scanned the room even as he distractedly accepted a hug from some blonde in tight jeans and a V-neck sweater. His face lit up as he found Julian, and they exchanged grins across the room. I was so busy watching the exchange that I forgot to look away in time. Caught staring, I ignored the way his grin widened, and did my best not to blush like a debutante.
I didn’t like the way he made me feel…mostly because I was well aware of his proclivities. I’d been Julian’
s best friend for a long time. That had provided me a front-row seat of Jackson’s love life, and that view was less than rosy. He was a player, and he liked to have fun.
Not that I didn’t like to have fun. It was just that… I didn’t do casual. I wanted something long-lasting. Something real. Not that I was looking. But if I did break the nun’s vow of chastity I apparently took by accident, it was going to be for something worth having. I sighed. Wasn’t I the life of the party?
For the next hour or so, I put effort into being social, chatting with this person or that, moving about the room. I nursed the same drink despite many offers to get me another—the only thing that would make a Monday morning worse would be facing it hungover. By the time I’d gotten rid of the third guy Julian winged in my direction, I was ready to wring his neck. Somewhere around the fourth guy, I was regretting my decision to wear a sundress with spaghetti straps. It was far too easy for him to keep brushing my shoulders.
Even though the room was getting crowded, I was able to step back a few paces. Hopefully, he would get the hint. I didn’t know exactly who he was, but I knew that every guest was a friend of Julian’s or Jackson’s in some way. I was pretty sure Julian wouldn’t be too thrilled about me wrenching some of the fingers backwards on Brandon’s touchy-feely right hand. At least I thought his name was Brandon. Or Brian. I squinted. Brad? I really had to start paying attention. And maybe start taking gingko biloba.
“So what do you do, AJ?”
I barely kept from making a face. He’d heard Julian call me that and quickly adapted to the nickname. I hated it when perfect strangers started calling me a familiar nickname.
“Avery,” I corrected gently, hoping he’d get the hint. “I work in electronics. Actually, Julian and I—”
“That’s really cool,” he said, brushing my hair back off my shoulder again.
I sighed. He had the attention span of a radish. “So what do you do?”
“Club promoter.” He winked. “I know all the best places to party. You like to party, AJ?”
Good to know the dating pool was just the way I left it. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to “accidentally” spill my drink on his shirt. “I think I’m going to see if Julian needs any help.”
“Jon said you were a tough nut to crack,” he said with a sly smile. “But I’m up to the challenge.”
“Who is Jon?”
Brandon/Brian/Brad pointed across the room at some guy I’d spoken to for less than ten minutes an hour prior. Apparently, in that time he’d surmised my entire being and equated me to a Brazil nut to anyone that should ask. Since he was currently chatting up some blonde and snacking on chips and dip, I’d say Jon had rebounded quite nicely.
Trying not to be too irritable, I smiled at my chatty companion. “It’s been nice talking to you.”
“I’m not giving up on you, AJ!” something-with-a-B called in my wake.
I sighed. It used to require real effort to acquire a dedicated stalker.
I milled about the edges of the crowd for another ten minutes, knowing Julian would kill me if I left his party early. At least without an excuse, that was. So far, the shrimp hadn’t cooperated and given me food poisoning, but I still had hopes.
At one point, a group of people suggested a party game and another group loudly agreed. I was in neither of these groups. While they were setting up teams and arranging chairs, I stepped out on the balcony.
I softly closed the screen door behind me, abruptly cutting off the music. There were a few other people out on Jules’s patio, obviously having the same idea I did. After a short nod and smile, they paid me no attention as I stood near the railing, just the way I liked it.
I stood there quietly, letting their quiet chatter and the smell of the ocean wash over me like soothing rain. Usually at these kinds of parties, Adam was the social one—he was the type who’d never met stranger. He would pull me in to his side, and make me part of the conversation without even making it seem like he was doing so. I never felt any social anxiety when Adam was there. Mostly because he loved to talk. About himself.
My brow furrowed. No, that couldn’t be right. He relieved the pressure of me trying to say something interesting. Because he was always there. Right at my elbow. Talking for me. Talking over me. I bit my lip. And that was the truth. It wouldn’t do to romanticize all of his faults because he was gone. He wasn’t dead, he was in Hawai’i. He’d have to wait for his canonizing.
“I hate Pictionary, too, but you should wait for the cake before you decide to jump.”
I didn’t need to look to know who had joined me at the railing. I knew that husky, honey-over-gravel-sounding voice anywhere. I smiled instead, eyes still locked on the push and pull of the waves. “Is it carrot cake?”
Jackson chuckled, the sound warm and rich in the small space. I could certainly stand hearing it again. Or five more times. “There are no vegetables in my cake,” he said, as if such thing would be sacrilege. “I think it’s chocolate. Some kind of fancy confection Julian had made.”
“That’s too bad. I might not have jumped for carrot cake.” I glanced at him, taking in his side profile. It was hard to see anything but his silhouette in the darkened patio. “You’re kind of ruining my hiding place.”
“I was here first, Winters. Find your own patio.”
“The party is in your honor, after all.” I looked off, pretending to think. “Maybe I should tell everyone where they can find you.”
“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hands. “We can share.” After a moment, he spoke again. “It was nice of you to come.”
“Julian threatened my life.”
He laughed. “That makes two of us. I don’t know why the little twerp is so determined to have this party.”
“He’s happy you’re here,” I said honestly. “He doesn’t get to see you much and you’re the only family he has.”
I could feel his appraising side look, and fought the urge to blush. Sometimes I was a little too honest, but Jules was clearly never going to tell his brother the truth. Their parents had died in a car accident when Jules had been a sophomore in college. Jackson had been in his third year of law school at the time, and he’d only come back for the funeral, taking off a few short weeks later. Jules had told me later that it felt like he’d lost his entire family in one fell swoop.
“You’ve been a good friend to Jules,” he said quietly. “Don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you for that.”
I gently chewed on the inside of my cheek, worrying a millimeter of flesh between my teeth. Not deep enough to bruise. Just deep enough to keep me quiet. Julian had needed his brother at that time. Not me. But it wasn’t my place to scold him for not being there when Julian needed him most.
“What?” he finally asked.
I looked over at him, startled. “What what?”
He smiled a little, his face half in shadow. “You can double what me all you want, but it’s clear you’re holding something back. Go ahead and say it.”
“It’s not for me to say.”
“If not you, then who? You know Jules better than anyone.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “You could stand to see him more,” I finally said. “I don’t know if he tells you often, but he does miss you.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet. “I get busy with work, but really, what the hell is that worth? Work will be here when we’re all dead and gone.”
I nodded slowly. “Tell me about it.”
Boy, did I get it. His eyes met mine in the dark, and I knew then that we were thinking along the same lines. The people we missed. The opportunities we’d missed to say things that really needed to be said.
He took in a deep breath and blew it out. “All right, enough of that. I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be a party. We’re getting a little too introspective here.”
“Birthdays are like that,” I said with a small smile. “If you don’t wonder what life’s all about at least once on eve
ry birthday past thirty, you’re not doing it right.”
Suddenly, there was a loud knocking noise, and we both spun around to find Julian with his knuckles against the closed glass door. “AJ!” His voice was tinny and small through the thick pane. “Get your butt in here!” He mimed.
No, I pantomimed back. Or at least that was how I would interpret both of my upraised middle fingers.
He cracked the door. “Get back in here, both of you.” He pointed at Jackson. “You have to cut the cake.” Then he pointed at me. “And I have more people for you to meet.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I think you’ve thrown every guy in this place my way. No more.”
“Well, it’s not like you took advantage of the opportunity.” He stuck a hand on his hip, clearly irritated with my pitiful flirting abilities. “I sent you some of my best guys.”
“Well, you need new inventory,” I informed him as Jackson tried to hide a laugh behind a cough.
“I think Avery can find her own dates,” Jackson interjected diplomatically.
Julian sighed sadly. “You would think so.”
“No more set-ups, Jules,” I said. “Promise me.”
“But I—”
“Promise or I’ll twist your nips.” I sent him a meaningful glare. “Again.”
He winced at the memory, hands automatically flying up to protect his chest. After I made pinchers of my fingers and waved them threateningly, he threw his hands up. “Fine. Have it your way. Die alone. But I would like to remind you that you’re the one who asked me to find you a date.”
“A fake one.” I refused to look at Jackson or acknowledge his snickering. He knew exactly how weird Jules and I could be when we got together. He’d learned the hard way to ask no questions and step back.
Jules was unrepentant. “I’m not going to be able to find you any kind of date with you hiding next to a potted fern.”
