by Niecey Roy
Lexie turned the channel from the bake-off to a DIY station.
“I’ve had a few dates. They sucked.” I scrunched up my nose, remembering the last guy who drunk groped me and slobbered all over my neck. His only plus was his credit report. I ran background checks on every guy I dated. A girl couldn’t be too careful. That, and Leo insisted.
“Find a boyfriend,” Lexie insisted. This wasn’t a new conversation with us.
“I don’t want a boyfriend.” I scrunched up my nose. The idea of adding that kind of complication to my life right now was unappealing. I had too much going on. “Boyfriends are needy and high maintenance.”
Gen rolled her eyes, her lips still perked in a smile. “You’re high maintenance.”
“You know what I need? A man-friend.”
“I don’t think a man-friend is going to give you the passion you’re looking for,” Gen said.
“How would you know? Have you ever had a man-friend before?” I demanded. I didn’t wait for her to answer. I went on. “I didn’t think so. Is it too much to ask for a simple, casual relationship with a hot guy who can set my sheets on fire without needing a dresser drawer and a joint grocery account? No man can tie this young tigress down.” I attempted a rawr but it came out creepy, and they both laughed.
I’d had the perfect relationship once—no expectations, no professions of unrequited love. And, because of that, no broken promises. But he was gone, living in California. That sucked.
There were parts of what we had that I missed. There were parts of what we had that I wished I could have again. No, I wasn’t interested in a truly, madly, deeply kind of love, but it didn’t mean I didn’t still want the early stage of the journey—the flirt, the electricity of an innocent brush of the hand, the absolute thrill of a first kiss. Maybe if there was more of that in my life, the characters in my book would cooperate. Though, why would that even matter? I wasn’t a romance novelist.
“A joint grocery account is actually a nice perk,” Lexie said. For the umpteenth time, her eyes went to her cell phone.
“I can’t even take you seriously right now.” I grabbed my wine glass and swallowed the contents in one drink. It was a sweet white, one of Gen’s favorites. I preferred merlot. “We are having a friend’s night, one we haven’t had in months since the two of you are practically married now. You're not allowed to be on your phone all night.”
“I am not practically married,” Gen said.
Lexie and I both raised our brows in challenge.
“You live with him,” I pointed out. “That’s one step closer to marriage.”
“It’s an economical decision,” Gen said with a dopey love-grin.
“Mm-hmm,” I said.
“And Leo and I aren’t even close to marriage. After the way my last engagement turned out we’re happy to take things slow. Maybe elope someday.” Lexie’s eyes were back on her cell phone display.
“If you’re not checking for dirty messages from Leo, why do you keep serial-checking your phone?”
“I’m making sure Richard brings his laptop so he can show me how to make changes to the boutique’s website. He also made me this awesome smartphone app. It’ll be live this week.”
Gen dropped the magazine to her lap. “Richard just got dumped again. He’s supposed to be coming for friendship support and pasta, not to work.”
“It’s the only time we could meet between his work and mine. So quit giving me the eye,” Lexie said.
“I’m just glad you still have a boutique to crash friend’s night with,” I said.
“And I’m very happy I didn’t have to bail you guys out of jail,” Gen said.
“Sometimes when I close my eyes, I picture you tasing Deborah Buchanan and then I get anxiety and break out in zits,” Lexie said. Though she was joking, it was still unsettling. That had been a dark moment for us—black was a better description. Then she added, “Or when you pepper sprayed Richard.”
Richard was the newest addition to our group. Last year, after Gen went on a bad date with Richard that never seemed to end, she sort of adopted him. Gen was notorious for bringing home strays—puppies, kittens, and guys who needed guidance in the dating department. His gamer buddies were clueless when it came to the opposite sex and what made a good date. If we hadn’t taken him under our wings, he might already be a headline: IT Tech dies by strangulation at the hands of angry girlfriend. True, his relationships never lasted long, but at least he wasn’t dumping girls in public anymore in a misguided attempt to play hard to get.
“Those were both accidents.” My friends now had a new nickname for me—Twitchy. I was positive I wasn’t twitchy anymore, not after months of training with Leo and the security guys. Next time I used a taser gun or pepper spray, I’d mean it. No more assaults by accident from this girl. Nope.
Refilling my wine glass, I said, “I’d like to think we all came out of that scrape better people. I mean, look at Richard. He’s taking his future seriously now.”
Richard started his own software training and consultation business. Quitting his full time, secure job at the insurance company might have been a risky gamble if he didn’t still live in his parents’ basement. Though his video game addiction became an issue with every girl he dated, the guy had mad skills with all things techie. His business venture was making him oodles of money. He spent most of it on video games and electronic gadgets he swore he needed in order to live.
Lexie’s phone beeped and she looked at the display. “Oh good, he’s here.” She stood. “I’ll go let him in.”
When she was gone, Gen poked me in the ribcage. “I don’t know why you don’t just let me hook you up with Matt’s friend.”
I shook my head.
Before I could say anything, she rambled on. “Chase Walker is great. And he’s all settled in now at his new practice. He has a nice house. You definitely won’t find anything wrong with his credit when you run a background check.”
Last year I ran a check on Matt when he began seeing Gen. After she got out of a relationship with a cheating swine, I’d needed to make sure she hadn’t fallen for a serial killer or a guy who couldn’t afford to buy her pasta.
“No. It’s a bad idea.” I returned the poke to her side. “Let’s start dinner. I’m starving.”
“He’s perfect for you.” Gen stood and took my hands to pull me to my feet.
“Perfect doesn’t exist,” I said with a laugh.
She ignored that comment, and said, “And he’s single.”
“Good to know.” I hooked my arm through hers while we walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“He likes to read, too.”
“A literate man is definitely attractive.” I could hear Lexie and Richard talking in the front entry. Flipping on the kitchen lights, I said, “But, I’ll find my sexy passion somewhere else, and it will not be in Dr. Chase Walker’s pants.”
Gen laughed. “Fine. But you can’t hide from meeting him forever.”
“Yes, I can. I’m practically a hermit these days. My agent’s a Nazi. She wants pages now.”
Gen’s bright smile and the twinkle in her blue eyes had the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. “Mm-hmm,” she said.
“No funny business or I’m going to find a new best friend.”
She set the bottle of wine on the counter. “So, you and Blake.”
I snapped my head in her direction. “Me and Blake, what?”
“You’re really over?”
My eyes went to the cream envelope with gold lining lying on the counter beside the refrigerator. For three days the envelope had lain there, staring at me every time I passed. The engagement announcement inside confused me. I flinched on the inside, but on the outside, I smiled—for Gen’s benefit, not mine. She needed to see the smile because she’d never understand the rest.
“Blake’s engaged,” I said, “and I’m happy for him.”
Saying it out loud hurt my ears. The idea of it was ludicrous
. As crazy as if it were myself engaged. The two of us were the same story—product of divorce and an absolute disinterest in repeating our parents’ mistakes. His engagement was a huge shock. Where I knew love existed for some, Blake hadn’t believed in love at all. It was as if moving to LA completely changed the man I knew, the man I’d dated off and on for two years.
“Are you?” Gen’s eyes were sober and her forehead wrinkled with worry. “I’ve never been a fan of Blake’s, but if you want him, you can still fight for him.”
“It’s not like that with us.” I'd said it so many times before that I sounded like a broken record.
She gazed at me with sad eyes.
As much as Gen and Lexie were like sisters to me, they’d never understood my relationship choices. Their family was full of laughter. Even their arguments were stemmed from a deep, unconditional love—they were one of those complete families, perfect in their imperfection. The Goreckis met once a week for dinner. If you weren’t at the table, you’d better have a good excuse—like death. Holidays at the Gorecki home smelled like apple pie, and sounded like love. Holidays in my home before my dad left had been table settings fit for a magazine spread, my parents drinking too much wine and then ending the night with an epic fight. Holidays after my dad left were carryout turkey dinners and an envelope with a large check signed by my dad to make up for him not making it—again.
Blake and I had been friends before we began a physical relationship. He was the only person who understood me—to the T—and didn’t question my feelings, my fears, my decisions of the heart. I didn’t miss Blake my boyfriend. I missed Blake my friend. Most of all, I missed having that one person who understood the darker side of my personality, the side that found comfort in the ten foot high walls around my heart. The Roxanna who wasn’t always all-smiles and had an emptiness in my chest I’d grown used to.
And I couldn’t believe that after all we’d been through, he chose to tell me about his engagement by sending an announcement, like he would to a mere acquaintance or a family friend. I was hurt.
Who was this woman who’d transformed my friend into someone willing to take a chance on the fairy tale? His smile in his engagement picture was different than the smile I knew. He looked happy. Free. I knew that look—it was the expression my friends wore for their boyfriends, the kind my grandparents had worn, the kind Gen and Lexie’s parents wore. Somehow, Blake Mansfield—even more of a relationship-phobe than I—was in love.
It was mind-boggling.
“Well, I’m glad you’re moving on. If you won’t date Chase, we’ll find you someone else.”
I threw my hands up. “I am not letting any of you Gorecki women set me up on a blind date. Ever. You of all people should know how wrong they can go.”
Just then, Lexie walked into the kitchen, followed by Richard. His hair was disheveled, and his cheeks were flushed. He pushed his black rimmed glasses up on his nose and nodded at the two of us.
“Sorry I’m late, lay-dees.” He winked at me. “Got into it with the ex-old lady. She is one crazy broad.”
Gen scrunched her nose up. “What did I tell you about calling her a crazy broad? No wonder she gets worked up.”
“What did you do now?” I asked Richard.
He jerked his shoulders back, offended. “What? Nothing.”
“Mm-hmm,” we three women replied in unison.
“Hey, I didn’t come here to get ganged up on by a bunch of broads.” He threw his arm around Lexie’s shoulders. “I came here for pasta. Lexie promised me food, and since you’re cooking,” he winked at me again, “I know it’s gonna be great.”
“Then you can help,” I told him, and nodded toward the refrigerator. “You’re slicing mushrooms. Gen, you get the pot of water boiling. Lexie, you can wash the veggies.”
“What were you talking about before I got here? Chick stuff?” Richard opened the fridge and stuck his head inside.
“Roxanna’s thinking about going on a date with Matt’s friend, Chase,” Gen said, and I glared at her back.
“No, Roxanna is not.” I unhooked a pan from the pot rack hanging above the island cook center. “You are such a pain in my ass.”
“You’re all a pain in my ass. I’m missing a tournament right now. My clan is pissed.” Richard stood with the container of button mushrooms in his hand. “I’m the team captain, you know.”
Lexie rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t be here if it was that big of a deal.”
“You’re right. This was just a practice with some newbs anyway.”
“Newbs?” Gen asked.
“Newbies. Rookies.” He said it like he thought it was weird she didn’t know.
“All those video games are going to fry your brain,” I told him and pointed to the knife rack. “Start slicing.”
“You broads wanna go with a bunch of studs to Vegas next year? Big tournament.”
I drew my brows together in confusion. “You mean, like a video game tournament?”
“Yeah. It’s the big time.”
“A big time video game tournament?” Lexie sounded as confused as me.
“Like, with a prize?” Gen set the pan of water on the stove and turned the heat knob to High.
“Yes.” He shook his head. “You sound like Megan.”
Megan was his ex-girlfriend, the one he’d just called crazy. The relationship had lasted a couple of months, but the only girl who ever understood his video game hobby had been Britney, and he ruined that by rescheduling a dinner to meet her parents at least four times before she had enough of him putting his clan first.
“How much of a prize?” I made two swirls in the bottom of the pan with olive oil.
“Five hundred K.”
I spun around, my eyes bulged wide, but he went on slicing mushrooms like no big deal. Gen and Lexie had stopped what they were doing to give him their full attention too.
“As in five hundred thousand dollars?” Gen enunciated.
“Yeah. Like I said, the big time.” He held up a mushroom slice. “This good?”
I nodded.
“Count me in for this big time tournament,” I said. “I have no idea why video game tournaments exist, or why they have cash prizes of five hundred thousand bucks, but I feel like I need to know. For research.”
“I’m in,” Gen said.
“Me too,” Lexie said, emerging from the fridge with a plastic container of baby spinach. “Vegas has the best spas.”
“You could wear skimpy cheerleader outfits,” Richard said, a note of hope in his voice. “You know, to cheer us on.”
“Don’t push it,” I told him.
He raised his hands, still clutching the knife in one hand. “Hey, no need for violence. It was just a suggestion.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, and dropped chopped onions into the warmed skillet.
We spent the rest of the evening talking about gaming and a plot formed. I mentally filed the information away. Who knew, if I ever got my writing juju back I might write a mystery about a video game program heist.
Chapter Six
I was bent over a pink cooler, digging like my life depended on it for an ice cold wine cooler. There were three different flavors, and the flavor I wanted must have been on the bottom.
The sun beat down on the top of my head and sweat beaded at my hairline. This was not the Moss family lake house. This Fourth of July vacation was much more rustic than I was used to. I’d been dragged to the middle of no-freakin’-where.
“Cabin my ass,” I mumbled. I’d been tricked.
I rummaged through the ice for a strawberry daiquiri wine cooler. My friends had all been in on the deception. Jerks.
I’d piled into the back of Leo’s vehicle this morning with my laptop and a paperback novel to pass the time, and hadn’t paid any attention to my surroundings. It wasn’t until mile marker fifty-three, and exactly two hours and fourteen minutes into our trip, that I looked up and realized I had no idea where we were. That’s when we rolled through
a little town called Cedar Ridge and Leo admitted that camping this year would involve tents and a portable privacy shower. The idea of not having access to a plug-in for my laptop resulted in what might have been a mild panic attack.
It was hot as hell out, and I was stuck in yee-haw country in the middle of nowhere. Which was why I’d had a regular visit with the cooler since pulling into this . . . pasture? I gazed around my surroundings. Leo had followed Matt’s pickup onto a road with the tracks worn down to the dirt leading through the grass and trees to a clearing along the bank of the river.
There was an old fifth wheel camper parked on the property, and a spark of relief shot through me—until Leo assured me there wasn’t electricity. We were roughing it.
I was a city girl. I needed electricity.
“They’re lucky I brought a notebook along,” I grumbled. I found the strawberry wine cooler and pulled it out with a triumphant, “Yes.”
Wiping the bottle cap off on my jeans shorts, I glanced around my surroundings. Here I was, sweating my ass off and nervous. In the wilderness, there were swarms of mosquitos and other noisy, merciless insects interested in sucking my blood. Mosquitos carried West Nile.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. I glanced at the canoes stacked on the trailer backed up to the riverbank. Canoeing. In the river. Shuddering, I twisted off the bottle top then gulped down half the bottle’s contents.
If they were going to force me to canoe down this river, I was taking my cooler with me. The whole thing.
I chugged the rest of the wine cooler and the carbonation stung my throat. I flipped the cooler lid open and set the empty bottle inside, then grabbed a cooler handle. Walking backwards, I pulled the cooler across the grass.
“Holy crap,” I huffed. The thing weighed a ton. I squatted down and grabbed hold of the handle with two hands.
“Let me help you with that.”
The unfamiliar voice made me jump and the top of my head connected with something hard as it shot up.
