Once Perfect

by Cecy Robson

But I didn’t care.

  The music and rowdy calls intermixed with the spiraling club lights cut through the darkness, helping me settle.

  Just like the thrum of Mateo’s deep voice.

  Chapter Two

  My feet were begging me to kill them by the end of the night. I rubbed my calf as I waited in line for the other bartender to convert my tips into larger, more manageable bills. One-eighty. That’s how much my epic runs to the bar had earned me. I would’ve made more had I managed at least one smile. But after my panic attack, I was just grateful I didn’t find an excuse to run home.

  My eyes wandered to where Mateo stood with Sam, Ant, and the rest of the bouncers. Like Mateo, Ant kept his hair cut short to his scalp, stood linebacker big, and armed himself with a glare that could singe iron. He had the brawn and intelligence to take control and was the go-to guy in Mateo’s absence. Only a dumbass would mess with Ant.

  Yet as much as I liked Ant, he didn’t hold my attention. My focus returned to Mateo as he discussed the events of the night―who wasn’t allowed back in, who should have been thrown out, and how he should have been called when traces of blow were discovered in the bathroom, before the user finished snorting all the evidence.

  Mateo saw me watching him during the debriefing. I’d looked away, then back again, unable to control the urge. He caught me each and every time. He didn’t respond while his crew was around, but once they’d dispersed, he acknowledged me with a wink that made my throbbing toes curl.

  My face heated and I glanced away. Again. No, I wasn’t a total dork or anything. Noelle leaned against the bar. “Hmmm. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

  I pretended to play with the zipper of my boot. “Ant? Yeah, I guess.”

  Hands down, I was the worst liar on the planet and possibly on Mars. Noelle’s grin widened. “Yeah. Him too. But you know who I was talking about.”

  “Not at all,” I muttered, swiping the bills from the bar and shoving them into my wallet.

  Noelle huffed. “Damn, Evelyn. Could you be more antisocial?”

  “Sorry, I―”

  Too late. She tossed her long red hair behind her and walked toward the bouncer waiting to take her to her car. Was it a wonder no one liked me? I zipped my purse shut and followed, only to groan when I saw which bouncer would escort me out. Dale. Fabulous. I’d rather take my chances with a ninja assassin.

  “Evie, wait.”

  Mateo’s deep tone held me halfway to the door, right in the middle of the dance floor. I released a long sigh, willing myself to appear cool, calm, and collected as I pivoted to face him.

  “Do you have a smartphone?”

  “Huh? What?”

  Cool, calm, collected. That was me.

  Mateo pressed his full lips tight. At first I wasn’t sure if I’d annoyed him or if he was trying to keep himself from laughing at me. The spark that suddenly lit his hazel irises and the subtle crinkles forming along the edges of his eyes told me it was the latter. Could I embarrass myself any more? Yeah. Probably.

  He tilted his chin. “A smartphone. Do you have one?”

  I rummaged through my purse. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Do you need to make a call?” I held out my battered iPhone, the only luxury item besides my laptop that had survived the IRS’s seizure of all our valuables. Shit, was all that drama just three years ago?

  Mateo’s large hand enveloped mine as he lowered it. It was warm, despite the lingering cold from the industrial air-conditioning system. Now that the crowd had vanished, there were no hot breaths and heated bodies to ease the raw temperature.

  His fingertips brushed my knuckles. I wrenched my hand away as if burned, and in the process dropped my phone. “Damn it.”

  I tried to suppress my nervousness. Mateo had never been inappropriate with the waitresses, and Sam obviously trusted him to lead the crew. But he’d served time in prison for assault and maybe more.

  I’d seen the violence he was capable of firsthand. Just tonight he’d snatched a guy by the throat and dragged him out the door. If he could do that to someone close to his size, what could he do to me?

  I took my time inspecting the phone to delay facing him. When I finally looked up, his eyes were surprisingly tender, just as they’d been when he found me in the storage room. He ignored my rudeness, speaking softly. “Download a flashlight app. There’re several out there. Pick the brightest one and keep the phone in your back pocket while you’re here.”

  He’d figured out I was terrified of the dark. “I―Sam doesn’t allow us to carry our phones during work. And there’s not a lot of room in these shorts.” I tugged them down, for all the good it did me.

  “I’ll talk to Sam. So long as you don’t text or make calls, you’ll be able to hang on to it.”

  I slipped my hand into the so-called back pocket. My fingers were tight against my butt.

  “Make it fit,” Mateo said. “You’re tiny enough.”

  I bit my lip, nodding. Mateo homed in on my mouth and he swallowed hard. My lids peeled back. Was he checking me out? He cleared his throat and called over his shoulder, “Ant!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could you walk Evie out?”

  Ant left the group of remaining staff, his pace dwindling as he neared. He glanced my way and then back at Mateo, his smile brilliant white against his dark skin. I’d seen him take on a group of frat boys when they’d attempted to corner Noelle a few weeks back. Ant was mean, muscular, and capable of bashing heads like tree nuts. But when the partygoers abandoned the building and the overhead lights flicked on, Ant turned into a ball-busting comedian. No one was safe from his digs. He nudged his BFF. “Oh, I see. You don’t want to leave your little Evie in the hands of Dale the douchebag.”

  “Hey. I’m standing right here!” Dale shouted.

  “Like I give a zebra’s ass,” Ant called out, making the group behind him laugh. He jerked his chin. “You ready, girl?”

  “Ah, yes. I have everything I need.”

  Mateo marched away from me in the direction of the other bar and toward the door leading to the storage room. He didn’t say anything, but Dee-Dee, another waitress, did. She placed her hand on her hip and yelled across the room, “ Teo! We’re going to be late to the fights. Where you going, sweet thing?”

  My head jerked back to Mateo. Sweet thing? That was new. Were they hooking up?

  “I’ll only be a few,” he said, not bothering to turn around.

  He was going to clean up my mess. There was no other reason for him to go there.

  Dee-Dee fixated on the back of Mateo’s black military pants. By the way she licked her lips, she was anxious for his return and a lot more. And for some bizarre reason, I didn’t like it one bit.

  Most of the staff went out after work to a diner, a house, anywhere that would have them. They were used to keeping late hours and working more than the weekend shifts and the alternate Thursday nights I picked up. But aside from Noelle, I was the only one in school. Following every shift at Excess, I’d return home and collapse in bed, hoping for a few hours of sleep so I could wake alert enough to finish my care plans and lab work.

  I’d managed to graduate from private high school three years ago only because the tuition had been paid prior to my father’s death. Except that didn’t make finishing any easier. My so-called friends had abandoned me following my family scandal, and my few remaining relatives wanted nothing to do with me, accusing me of soiling the Preston name. I’d had trouble trusting anyone since. So when the other waitresses initially tried to be nice and include me in their plans, it was easier just to say no and stay quiet, rather than risk getting hurt again.

  What sucked was that my silence earned me the reputation of being a snob. No one knew what I’d been through. But it was easier to let the staff believe what they wanted and have them mostly ignore me. So then, why had Mateo gone out of his way to help me?

  I thought about it as I continued to focus on him. “Thank you,” I called to him, way after the fact.
>
  Mateo continued walking and disappeared into the back hall, letting the door to the bar slam behind him. What did I expect? He’d helped me, and I hadn’t bothered thanking him sooner. All I’d done was jerk away from him like a spaz.

  I startled a little when I realized Ant was watching me watch Mateo. I slung my purse over my shoulder and motioned to the door. “You ready?”

  Ant widened his grin. “Only if you’re done checking out my boy Teo.”

  Lava couldn’t have burned as hot as my face. I hurried along. Ant jogged behind me, easily catching up. “I wasn’t checking him out, Anthony,” I muttered, blowing off Dale as we passed.

  “If you say so.” Ant laughed. Of course he didn’t believe me.

  My brows knitted tight into a frown, but it was hard to keep. I liked Ant, though he probably didn’t know it. When he laughed, it was with his whole heart. I wished I could laugh like that. He was a good guy and surprisingly nice, despite the dragon tat that snaked up his arm and dragged across his neck.

  My Cherokee was parked at the far end of the lot, beneath a warped light that bleached the fading red color to pink. Once upon a time my ride was a custom BMW. Not anymore. Even from this distance the Cherokee’s rusting front bumper seemed to laugh at me, as if guzzling more gas than I could afford wasn’t enough of a dis. I’d tried selling it, but no one wanted to buy the old monstrosity.

  “He’s a good guy, you know.” Ant chuckled when my attention shot his way.

  “Huh?” Wow. Wasn’t I, like, the most expressive girl ever?

  “Teo. He’s good people. And I’m not just saying that because we’re tight.”

  “He’s been in prison.” The moment I said it, I instantly regretted it. This was his buddy I was speaking to.

  Ant slowed to a stop. “Evelyn, there’s a lot you have to learn about life.” He surprised me by shaking his head and failing to leap into attack mode. “Not everyone who goes to the joint deserves to be there.”

  I pulled my purse closer to me, my spine stiffening. “A-are you saying he’s innocent? That he was framed?”

  Ant paused, appearing dumbfounded by my asinine response. “No. He did what he did. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do the right thing.”

  I couldn’t believe what he was saying. “He assaulted someone, Ant. From what I heard, the poor guy he attacked ended up in the hospital!”

  Ant rose to his full height and crossed his large arms, causing me to instinctively step back. Gone was his playful persona, replaced by a very big man rising to defend his equally menacing friend. “Evelyn, that ‘poor guy’ raped his sister.” He scoffed when I froze with my mouth open. “Yeah, that’s right. Did you know she was only fourteen? Did you know the prick had money? Money talks, girl. Loud enough for charges against a rapist to be dropped and hard enough to land a Latino brother in prison.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  Ant lowered his arms slowly, his shoulders drooping slightly. “Teo came home on leave when it all went down. A year in the Army, stellar rank, perfect record, all gone because he tried to do right by his family. Dishonorably discharged without a chance to go back.” He leaned on his heels. “My boy broke the law. I’m not saying he didn’t. But before you judge him again, think about why he did it, and everything he lost because of it.”

  Time passed between us before I could bring myself to speak. “God, Ant, I’m sorry. I’m really just…sorry.” I could barely meet his face, shame keeping my head bowed.

  “I don’t expect someone like you to understand,” he said.

  Problem was, I did. In ways I didn’t dare admit.

  Chapter Three

  Lourdes leaned over my shoulder as I mixed my batter, laughing as I beat the thick mess like it was Donovan’s face.

  “Evelyn. What the hell are you making?”

  “Cookies. For Mateo.” I grunted. Baking shouldn’t be this difficult!

  She pulled out a chair and leaned her elbow on our cracked linoleum table. The minute kitchen wasn’t even half the size of the pantry in my former Villanova home.

  I grunted again, this time louder. Long gone were the days of cooks and maids. My friend Lourdes and I had moved into the second-floor apartment of this old colonial shortly after we graduated high school. One bathroom, two small bedrooms, and a tiny living room made up our home. And yet as modest as it was, I was in a better place.

  “Do you like him?” she asked, bringing me back to the moment.

  My beating slowed to more affectionate punches. “Who?”

  “You know who. Mateo. You like him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t like him. But I don’t dislike him.”

  I decided to switch spoons. The metal one just wasn’t cutting it. As I rummaged through our drawer, I thought of the best way to minimize my intent. “I’m just trying to be nice. He was…kind to me during my panic attack.” I failed to add how harshly I’d misjudged him. Maybe I still remained that princess after all, despite my confiscated tiara.

  I found a wooden spoon and resumed my mixing, dropping the bowl on the counter following several more passes. My mother had died when I was four years old. Had she been alive when I was growing up, would she have taught me how to bake? It’s something I used to frequently wonder. Now I mostly tried to concentrate on my future―and not what should’ve and could’ve been. I lifted the bowl again, then put it right back down. “It’s been almost a week, and I never told him thank you.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Lourdes sat in her perfectly pressed scrubs, ready for her shift at the nursing home, an hour early as usual. She’d chosen to work at the low-paying job for the experience it gave her, but she could afford to do that—she had a family and grants to help her. All I had were memories of my uncles squabbling to seize what they could of the family fortune and accusations that I’d “hidden” the money. Losers.

  A devilish grin played across her face. I tried not to roll my eyes. “Lourdes, you don’t get it. Last Saturday was totally crazy―seven hundred people by midnight, three of Mateo’s crew busted up drug deals, and forget about all the asshats starting fights on the floor.” I shook my head. “But the seriously scariest part was when the dealers found out about each other.”

  She stood and quirked a brow. “Dealing for different drug lords?”

  “That’s what it seemed like. Mateo, Ant, and Sam handled things outside when the police arrived. The rest of the bouncers kept everyone away.” I added more chocolate chips to the mix. “It looks like all the action is moving in from Philly.”

  “It makes sense. There’s a lot of money here in the Main Line. They’ll make more with coke and Mollies than in the lesser clubs in Philly.” She took another peek at my bowl. “Aw, hell. If you’re trying to thank him, just say, ‘Thank you,’ nena.” She pointed to the thick batter and grimaced. “Don’t give him that nasty crap.”

  “You haven’t even tried them!”

  She twirled the ends of her short black bob. “Evelyn. I’ve tasted enough of your cooking to know that it’s just not in you.”

  I wiped the goo from my hands. “What’s not in me?”

  “Cooking—anything. Stick to what you know and what’s worked: spaghetti, canned soup, and toast.” She adjusted the ties to the pants of her scrubs. “Do I have to remind you how long it took you to master that much?”

  I sighed. “It’s a recipe, Lourdes. I’m following it line by line.” I resumed my frantic mixing, trying to rid the bowl of all traces of the white flour. I dropped the bowl again when my shoulder began to ache.

  Lourdes sat, playing with the tie strings even though she’d secured the bow. “I think you should talk to someone, Evelyn,” she said quietly. “To have panic attacks just from being in the dark isn’t…normal. I think something else is up.”

  If Lourdes wasn’t my roommate, she wouldn’t have known about my fear of the dark or the night-light I needed in order to sleep. I didn’t disclose anything, ever. The past few years had taught me that much. Did I
have trust issues? Ah, yeah.

  “You know, a semester of psych doesn’t make you a psychologist.”

  She smiled softly. “I just want you to be okay, nena.”

  Yeah. Well, so did I. I reached for the bowl only to jump when my phone buzzed. I glared at it when I caught the text.

  How are you?

  This was the second text from Donovan, my ex-boyfriend. Blond. Blue-eyed. All-American football player. Total douche canoe. He’d promised me forever. Forever apparently didn’t stand a chance against a family scandal. I shuddered when I thought of everything I’d given him. And everything he’d taken from me.

  Lourdes glared, too. “Can’t you block the little bitch?”

  “I did. But the phone company revokes it after six months.” I deleted the text just like I had the first one when he had the nerve to claim he missed me. I’m sure he had his pick of naïve girls at Notre Dame. And I wasn’t naïve. Not anymore.

  I scooped up the batter with a spoon and dropped small mounds onto the cookie sheet. “We need a new cookie sheet.”

  Lourdes grimaced again and shook her head. “If this is what you need it for, I’m thinking no. The batter looks…”

  “Gooey?”

  “Nope.”

  “Thick?”

  “Ah, sort of.” She used the tip of the wooden spoon to poke it. “Hard. This crap looks too hard. Penises around the world would envy this glop.”

  “Lourdes!” She laughed when I snatched the bowl away. “It’s fine. I’m sure it’s going to be just fine!”

  I forged ahead, needing to make things right for once in my ridiculous life.

  —

  I arrived at the club a little earlier than usual. More than once, I debated returning to my SUV to dump the cookies. But in the end, “Thank you” wasn’t enough. Kindness wasn’t often offered liberally or genuinely, especially around the Philly area. There was usually a catch.

  Mateo’s concern had radiated just as forcefully as his strength. And the gentle rasp in his tone had grounded me back into reality. As I lay on the floor, vulnerable, he could have done anything to me, and no one would have known. He could have slipped out, told Sam and Dale I was fine, and returned to me.