“You look tired. Why don’t you sit down?” Her voice was soft; not sexual, but concerned.
“Okay.” I took my cup of hot water from the microwave and walked toward the table. I could feel her eyes on me the whole time
• 118 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
and it should have made me nervous, but it didn’t. Instead I felt well cared for. “This last week has kicked my butt.”
“Really? What happened besides me getting Þ red?”
“I had a couple of clients leave recently. They were older clients that I inherited when my senior partner, Henry, retired a couple years ago. Anyway, they left, and it bothers the hell out of me that I don’t know why. All of them were making money, not a lot, but nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Can’t you just call them up and ask them?”
I started at the question because I couldn’t ever remember discussing my job at home and it was disconcerting to feel free to do so now. “You know, that’s the weirdest thing. Neither of them called me directly. They called the manager of my Þ rm to ask that their accounts be transferred to some brokerage Þ rm I’ve never even heard of.” I frowned. “They aren’t returning my calls. I asked Goody if he had heard from them, but…” Realizing that I had stopped speaking, I added, “I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.”
“Was it a lot of your business?”
“No, not at all. But it bothers me that clients would leave me like that. If I did something to upset them, I’d like to know so I don’t do it again.”
“I’m sure it’s not anything you did. They probably got some ß yer in the mail or something that enticed them over to this new company.”
“I thought about that too. I hope no legitimate Þ rm is out there trolling for elderly people. Either way, I just want to make sure they aren’t getting taken advantage of.”
Ryan sipped her tea, her eyes searching my face as she did so, and I looked down into my cup. The stuff wasn’t half bad. I certainly wouldn’t give up my hot cup of espresso roast, but it wasn’t bad.
“You’re a really nice person, aren’t you?” she asked.
I couldn’t help, it. I laughed. “No, not at all.”
“Really?” Her expression was hard to read. “You could have fooled me.”
“I keep the mean stuff to myself.”
“Do tell?” I told myself that the smile on her face was not an invitation.
“It wouldn’t be keeping it to myself if I told.”
When Ryan laughed her face transformed, making her look less tired. I told myself it was the tea and not my company.
• 119 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“When people walk in front of me with strollers I think about kicking them,” I confessed.
Ryan choked on her tea. “Kicking strollers? With babies in them?”
“It isn’t the babies I’d be kicking, just the strollers. Besides, I never did it. But I think they are such a pain in the ass, and God forbid you should walk in front of them. It’s like the world should stop just because they can breed.”
She tried to look shocked. “Okay, I give you one point for that one. What else?”
“Let’s see. I once saw one of the girls in the cage write on a broker’s car with a permanent marker.”
Ryan laughed again. “Nah, that one doesn’t count. You were just the innocent bystander, she was the mean one.”
“Okay, how about this? I once told the school nerd that this girl who dumped me for the football jock was secretly in love with him.”
Ryan gasped. “You did not.”
I nodded sagely. “I am not to be triß ed with. He followed her around for a year. Even told a few people we knew that they were together. She spent most of senior year hiding from him.”
“She ever Þ nd out what you did?”
“She probably suspected.” I stood up and searched the drawers next to the oven for a towel to remove the pan.
“What happened to her?”
“She married the prom king, they have four beautiful kids, and she works part time at a bank in Southeast.”
“You know a lot about her. You still keep in touch?”
I pulled the chicken out and set the pan on the stove. The aroma was mouth-watering and I was pleased with how well the chicken had browned. “Her father owns the landscaping company my parents use.
She tries to reach out to me sometimes.”
“But you’re not interested in being her friend?”
“It’s not that I’m not interested, it’s just that I don’t have much in common with her anymore. I was sixteen years old. I thought she loved me and we would spend the rest of our lives together.” I gave a self-deprecating smile.
“She must have hurt you really bad.”
Note to self: Ryan can make you cry with a look, so tread carefully.
• 120 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
I took down two plates. “The sad part is, I still believe she’s gay. Puppy love like ours doesn’t often survive, but it makes me sad to think that she might have married him because of her family’s religious beliefs.
My parents aren’t as devout as they used to be when we were kids, but I thought they were going to disown me there for a while after I came out to them.”
“I think some people have trouble dealing with their sexuality.
Especially if family is involved.”
“Did you? Have trouble telling your family, I mean.”
Ryan looked sad, and the scar pronounced and jagged. “My mother hasn’t left her bed for longer than two hours in years. My brother has a habit of hanging out with the wrong crowd, and my father has a gambling problem. My family was so messed up that my sexuality failed to make a blip on the radar screen.”
“Sounds like you had a hard time growing up,” I said carefully. “If you ever need to talk…”
She either looked down or nodded. Either way I took the gesture to mean “thanks, but no.” I busied myself with placing our food on the plates. She had opened up to me more than I could have ever dreamed.
“Everything looks really good,” Ryan said from behind me.
I jumped because I hadn’t heard her get up. “I can’t take credit. It’s just heat and serve. But yeah, it does look good.”
She was standing at the sink, watching me. She said, “I’ll help you set the table after I wash up.” It felt nice to have someone interested in doing something so mundane as putting food on the table together.
I kept quiet as Ryan tucked into her meal as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Five minutes of silence is a very long time, especially when you have something monumental to say, which I did, and I kept framing my important question and backing out before I committed myself.
It was Ryan who broke the silence. “What’s on your mind, Mia?”
I swallowed and took a sip of my tea, grimacing at the ß avor combination of chicken stufÞ ng and oolong. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re usually not this quiet.”
I Þ nished chewing. “It’s kind of awkward.”
“Just say it. Is there something wrong with my work? You can tell me—”
“No, oh no, Ryan. Everything is wonderful.”
• 121 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“Good.” She relaxed. “Then please go ahead and tell me.”
“It’s not…it’s not that I need to tell you anything, I want to ask you something.”
“Okay, ask.”
I could tell my stumbling-idiot act was making her nervous, so I took a deep breath and said quickly, “I want you to move in with me.”
I didn’t need to be a psychic to know the word “nutball” was ß oating through her head. “Wait, just hear me out. It’s not what you think. You know Mr. Gentry, the guy next door?”
“Yeah, he accosted me when I was coming in to work on that Þ rst day.”
“Yeah, him. He says there have been break-ins in the neighborhood.” I
could see Ryan’s tension ease.
“I saw the ß yers.”
“I thought it might help you out too, you know, until you found something more stable. I know I couldn’t possibly be paying you a quarter of what you made with Steve, so I thought…we could help each other out. Besides, Pepito loves you.”
I could tell that Ryan was considering my proposition, but I couldn’t tell how she felt about the idea. “Look, I don’t want to make you feel awkward by having you answer me now. Just think about it.
I have the extra room upstairs, and I wouldn’t expect you to pay me anything…”
“No, I’d pay.”
“But I want to—”
“No. I would pay something.”
“We can talk about that later, maybe work something out with the work you’re doing for me.”
Ryan looked down at her plate.
“Ryan, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. If that’s what I’m doing, I’ll rescind my offer. But I’d do this for any of my friends, and I’d like to think of you as a friend.” When she still didn’t look up, I reached out and covered her hand. “Please look at me.”
I waited until her gaze met mine. “There’s nothing else to this, okay?
I really just want to help you, and if I’m being honest, I’ll admit that I feel some responsibility for your getting Þ red.”
“What about your girlfriend?”
“Brenda?” I said her name and the air between us became thick.
“She’s not here and she won’t be for a very long time.”
• 122 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
“Will it cause problems between you two? Will she believe that you and I are just friends?”
“I don’t know, but she isn’t here, and according to her, she hasn’t really been with me for a long time. So I’m done considering her feelings when I plan my life. As far as I’m concerned, I’m alone. And right now, I really want to help a friend while I help myself in the process. Will you at least consider it?”
It felt like forever before Ryan spoke, and when she did, the words came out slowly. “I’ll consider it,” she said, but the warmth had left the room and it didn’t return until after Pepito and I walked her to the door after dinner.
I stood there for a few minutes after she’d gone, then engaged the dead bolt and walked slowly up the stairs, Pepito at my heels. For reasons I couldn’t put my Þ nger on, I felt as if I would never see Ryan Benson again. The thought made my chest ache so bad that it kept me up long into the night.
• 123 •
• 124 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My phone rang at four thirty the next morning, about an hour after I Þ nally fell asleep. My hello was unintelligible, but Ryan must have understood because she chuckled.
“I woke you up, didn’t I?”
My Þ rst reaction was to make a smart-ass comment, but the warmth of her tone and the memory of the way she had looked when she left the house kept me from getting cranky. “I was just getting up.
Do I hear your teeth chattering?”
“Yeah, it’s cold out here.”
“Out where?”
“I’m outside.”
“You’re outside? Outside my house?” I sat up in bed and looked toward my window. Pepito grumbled, got out of his box-bed, and crawled beneath mine. “What are you doing out there? I thought you didn’t come until around eight.”
“That’s what time I get here to work on the house, but you said you wanted to work out so I came early. Did you forget?”
My hand was on my forehead, trying to remove the fog of sleep.
“Yeah, four thirty, but why are you standing outside? Did you forget your key?”
“No, I didn’t want to scare you. I’ll come in now, okay?”
“Okay.” I pulled myself out of bed as I heard her put the key in the front door. The question felt oddly intimate. I pressed the phone tight against my ear and tried to imagine her asking me if she could come inside in a different context.
“Mia?”
• 125 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you usually drink coffee before you work out?”
I could have told her the truth. I could have told her that I usually just cursed before I worked out. “Yeah, I usually have a cup of coffee,”
I said.
“I’ll make some while you get dressed.”
“Wait, I should probably shower Þ rst.”
“Before you work out?”
“Not a good idea?”
“Nope, you’re just going to work up a sweat and have to take another one.”
I’m sure I waited a split second longer than I should have, because Ryan sounded embarrassed when she said, “But if you feel more comfortable…”
“No, you’re right. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I sat blinking into nothingness for a few minutes after Ryan had said bye. I clicked on the lamp at my bedside table and grabbed my old terry cloth robe from the foot of the bed. A quick search of my gym bag netted me perfectly clean workout clothes that just didn’t quite work.
I was going through my dresser drawers when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. What was I doing? Ryan was here as a friend trying to help me work out for a challenge that I wasn’t really planning to compete in. Sports bra in hand, I let my robe drop to the ß oor and appraised my reß ection the way a stranger would. The way Ryan would if she were here. I saw the thickness around my middle that had been easily hidden just last year. I saw the fuller breasts, the rounder face, and I quickly turned my back to the mirror and donned my bra, a pair of black Nike shorts, and a T-shirt. It wasn’t sexy, but it was the best I could do on such short notice.
The scent of fresh-brewed coffee greeted me as I approached the kitchen, and my mood improved immediately. Brenda never left for work before I did, and neither of us ever bothered to set the pot. It was easier to stop at Peet’s Coffee on my way into work than to bother grinding beans or setting the pot the night before. Besides, they had the best lowfat coffee cake in Portland.
“Morning,” Ryan said from the table. Her cup was almost to her lips, and her eyes were hooded from the heat from her tea or some thought that I would never be privy to.
The way I felt just looking at her almost made it worth waking up
• 126 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
an hour earlier than usual. Almost. She had already poured a mug of coffee for me and I picked it up without sitting. “Morning. Thanks.”
Ryan smiled and pointed at me with her mug. “You can sit down and enjoy your coffee if you like.”
I smiled and slid into a chair at my own kitchen table. I felt like a stranger offered a seat in an unfamiliar diner. I fell back on the old
“keep your mouth full so you don’t have to talk” trick. I realized too late that there was a ß aw in that plan. The sooner I was done with my coffee, the sooner I had to go work out.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” Ryan said after I had Þ nished my second cup.
All of my nervous energy drained from me like a leaking balloon.
I set my mug aside. “Right behind you,” I said with what I hoped passed for enthusiasm. Ryan bent down to pick up a boom box that I hadn’t noticed when I walked in. I followed her through the wooden door and down the steep ß ight of stairs.
The basement was simply a carpeted square room with four ß oor-to-ceiling mirrors. The equipment consisted of a huge weight rack, a treadmill, and a weight bench.
“You have enough equipment here to get a good workout,” Ryan said.
“I do?”
I had never considered it, really, but all of the equipment I had used during my few workouts with Selena was represented here. Both of us did some stretches; she looked natural and I’m sure I looked awkward as hell.
Ryan hit the Play button on her boom box and I heard
the CD
player whir to life. She walked over to the weight rack.
Here we go.
“Do you know how much weight you can lift for a full set?”
“Tens, I think.”
She took the weights off the rack and handed them to me. I expected her to release them, but her Þ ngers seemed to linger over mine. At Þ rst I thought she was just making sure that I had a Þ rm grip on the weights, but when her eyes met mine I thought she was searching for something.
Something that I found myself looking for in hers as well. Assurance that the spark was there, that it hadn’t faded away just yet. She must have seen it the same way I did, because when she said, “Let’s get started,” I was certain I recognized relief in her voice.
• 127 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
v
When I walked into the ofÞ ce, I was sore and happier about it than I had any right to be. Ryan had been exceedingly patient with me, coming close when she needed to and even going so far as to help me lift the weights correctly. As tired as I was after the workout, I still felt like I could tackle anything life threw at me. Right up until I saw the look on Goody’s face.
“Brenda’s holding. This is the second time she’s called. She said you weren’t answering your phone at the house. What’s going on with her? She was kind of rude.”
“I don’t know. Let me Þ nd out what she wants.” With a sigh I did not bother to hide, I shut my ofÞ ce door and picked up the phone. “Hi, Brenda.”
“Mia, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“So Goody tells me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just didn’t like the way we left our last conversation.
You sounded, I don’t know, a little dispassionate.”
This was one of the things I hated about Brenda; if she felt I wasn’t reacting the way she thought I should, she would dig until she got the reaction she was looking for.
“Mia, have you…thought about seeing other people?”
Perhaps it was guilt over the fact that I had been doing more than just thinking about it—I had been fantasizing about it and with someone speciÞ c—but the question pissed me off. “Brenda, what in the hell is wrong with you? I mean, really, did you track me down this morning to tell me that you think I should see other people?”
Such a Pretty Face Page 14
