I put the book down. I should show Jason, but I didn’t want to yet. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. Well, maybe Gwen, but that was more because I felt bad about how I’d reacted, yelling at her like that, when all she was doing was trying to help. I should have thanked her, but instead I’d sent her away and now had no way to get in touch with her.
That wasn’t entirely true.
I had Laurel’s contact info, after all, and I could easily call her up. I pushed the book to the side, pulled up the invoice for Shine Yoga and called the number. It was Laurel’s cell phone number, not the studio number. Maybe it would’ve been better to call the studio.
“I’ve got a bit of an odd request,” I said when she answered. “I’m trying to get in touch with that woman who works for you. Gwen. I was wondering if you might give me her phone number.”
“I don’t generally give my employees’ personal phone numbers to people,” Laurel said. “Do you mind telling me what you need to speak to her about?”
“Uh...” I wasn’t about to get into the whole story about the journal. “I was going to ask her on a date.” I hadn’t been planning on saying that, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. It’d been over a week since my date with Julia, which meant I’d be going on another one soon enough anyway, and if it was with Gwen, then I could theoretically take care of two birds with one stone: I could take her out, pry more information out of her about this uncle of hers, and also have my date for that week taken care of. Now all I needed was Laurel to play along and give me her number.
“You’re interested in her,” she said.
“She does seem interesting.”
“I’m still not sure I feel comfortable giving you her number like that. What if I told her that you would like to speak to her and that if she is interested in you, then she should give you a call back? Is this your cell number that you’re calling me on?”
“No, it’s the office phone. I’ll text you from my cell phone when we’re done with the call, so you’ll have the number—and, yes, I would appreciate it if you would pass it along to Gwen.”
“That I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, I’m not saying I think she’ll call you back or anything, but if she does, and you’re foolish enough to do something like break her heart... well, you’ll have the whole San Francisco yoga community on your ass.”
“Yikes,” I said. “You have my word that I would never do a thing like that.”
“Good.”
We got off the phone and I sighed. That was the best I could do—get her to give Gwen my number. Which meant I now had to wait on someone else, the control out of my hands. She could decide to call, or she might not; she might throw away the scrap of paper if Laurel wrote the number down and gave it to her, or delete the message if she sent it via text. Should it really matter to me? No, not really. I should just move on with things and if she called, great; if not, well, who gives a fuck? I hated being in this position because there was nothing I could do about it.
Chapter 8
Gwen
Austin and Jill wanted to know every detail about what had happened, but I was vague with them on purpose. I didn’t want to relive the whole thing again, because, frankly, it had been awful. It had felt like a huge mistake when I’d laid the journal in front of him and he’d seen it. He had done what he could to keep his face impassive, but there was some change when he realized what it was, and I didn’t think that it was a good thing. And then when he’d yelled at me to get out... I could still hear his voice, the anger in it. I had run out of there as quickly as I could, kept my head down and ignored the even more curious looks I got from his co-workers on the way out. I had wanted to cry, to be honest, but I didn’t. Once I was out of the building, I felt a little better, but only a little. What I really felt was that I had made a mistake going back to help Grace at all. Joshua had never done anything good for me when he’d been alive; why would it be any different now that he was dead?
Fortunately, I had a class I had to go teach, so there was an excuse for me to bail, once they started in with their questioning.
“I gave it to him,” I said.
Austin took a sip of his coffee and looked at me with big eyes. “And...?”
“And...” I shrugged as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and secured it with the black elastic around my wrist. “And that was it. I handed it over and I left.”
He and Jill exchanged disappointed glances. “So, if you left it with him, that must mean he knows who it is. Who the journal belongs to.”
“Right.”
“So... who was it?”
“He didn’t say.”
Austin’s jaw dropped. “Wait. You went and gave him this journal that he probably hasn’t seen in a hella long time, and he knows who wrote it but he doesn’t tell you? For real? That’s some serious bullshit right there. I would have demanded to know whose journal this was. Because I want to know the whole story.”
“Or because you’re pushy.” There was a part of me that wanted to know the details too. But there was another part of me that had the strong suspicion it was better that we didn’t know. What kind of Pandora’s box might that be opening?
“Girl, I am not pushy.” Austin gave me a stern look. “I’m just an endlessly curious person who loves a good story. And I sure as hell had the feeling that this was going to be a great story. Like Nancy Drew or something.” I cringed just hearing his name. “I really felt like this was going to be the beginning of some great mystery unraveling.”
Jill set her coffee cup down and stretched. “That’s just because you’re dramatic.”
“Maybe there’s something else you can go sleuth about,” I said to Austin. “But it’s not going to be this. It wasn’t this cathartic experience or anything. If you guys were hoping for that, you’re going to be let down.”
“I’ll say!” Austin huffed.
“Anyway.” I smoothed my shirt down and took a deep breath, hoping I was doing a convincing enough job of looking like that was all that had happened when I dropped the journal off. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell them, or that I didn’t think I could be forthcoming with them about it... I just really couldn’t bear the thought of having to relive it again, even if it was just reiterating the details. Because I could still hear his voice in my head, the way he’d just seemed to shut down. Obviously the journal meant something, but I’d have to speculate about just what, and the only thing I really wanted at this point was to forget about the whole damn thing.
“I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’ve got a class to teach.”
“Want to do dinner tonight?” Austin said. “Go out somewhere?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve got a date,” Jill said. Now it was my turn to look at her in interest, and I was glad to have the attention off of me. But she waved both me and Austin off. “It’s nothing to get too excited about,” she said. “It’s the cousin of one of my co-workers. He’s out for a month from Boston; he’ll be returning to the East Coast in a few weeks—and even if the sex is mind-blowing, I’m not relocating for some guy.”
“All right, all right,” I said. “Well, at least maybe you’ll get some good sex out of it. I’ve got to get going, but I’ll talk to you guys later.”
***
During savasana, I would go around and place a lavender eye pillow over each of my students’ faces and give them a little temple massage before I took my place on my own mat, sitting in lotus position until time was up and I would chime my little bell and announce, in a low, soft voice, that when they were ready, they should begin to stretch, move around, bring their awareness back into their bodies.
Normally, I would sit there and try to clear my mind and be present, but today, all I could think about was what Laurel had told me right before class started: Drew had gotten in touch with her and was asking about how he could get in touch with me. He wanted my phone number, but she hadn’t given it to him.
He wanted my phone number.
If he wanted my phone number, that meant that he had something he wanted to say to me.
I hadn’t really pressed Laurel for more details; I wasn’t sure if Drew himself had said he was interested in me, or if Laurel had surmised that from the fact that he had called her, looking for my number. It was a fair assumption to make on her part, considering she didn’t know all the details.
He probably wanted to apologize.
I hated the fact that I was even giving it this much thought. There was no reason for it—other than it seemed like my uncle might have done something to whoever had written that journal.
That was a problem. It was a problem because it was one more thing I didn’t know the answer to, and despite the fact that I hadn’t had anything to do with my uncle for years, he was still someone I was related to. I couldn’t stand the fact that he might’ve done something awful, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Not for a moment.
When class was over, I went into the break room and looked at my phone. Would it be better to call or text?
Obviously, I wanted to text. It would be so much easier and there’d be far less chance for awkwardness. But I knew that would also make me look like I was afraid, which I wasn’t. Or was I? The fact that I was giving it so much thought was actually kind of starting to piss me off. I had let this whole thing get the better of me, and Austin and Jill weren’t helping, with their talk of this being some great mystery solved. I never would’ve found the journal in the first place if Joshua hadn’t died and I’d felt guilty about leaving my aunt there alone to have to clean things up by herself.
I snatched my phone off the table and dialed his number, not even bothering to give a second thought to what I was actually going to say.
“This is Drew Parker,” he said when he answered.
“You’re an asshole.”
Okay—maybe it would’ve been better to give a little thought to what I might say. I coughed. “I mean... this is Gwen. Lillie. From the yoga festival. I work for Laurel.” I was babbling now, and I squeezed my eyes shut and brought my hand up to my face, pinched the bridge of my nose, as if that would help with anything.
“I know who it is,” Drew said. “Thank you for calling.”
“I’m not even sure what I’m calling about.”
“I’d like to take you out.”
I was glad that we were on the phone, because that meant he couldn’t see the look of shock on my face.
“What?” I said.
“I’d like to take you out. Are you available tonight?”
“I... uh... yes, I think so.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Why don’t I meet you?”
“Sure. La Fille. Do you know where that is?”
I did, but only as a place I would probably never go. It was a Michelin three-star restaurant, which I only knew because this guy whom Austin had dated a few years ago worked there. It was the sort of place that I wouldn’t go to because I was not one of those people who could justify dropping five hundred dollars on a single meal.
“I know where it is, but are you telling me that’s where we’re going?”
“Am I to surmise the place is not up to your standards?”
“You can surmise whatever you want. I try not to make it a practice to go out to restaurants that charge more for a meal than some people make in an entire week.”
“A girl with a social conscience. All the same, I’d like you to let me take you out there. It’s the least I could do, all things considered.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Okay. Um, bye.” I hung up without waiting for him to reply, but the second the call ended I wondered if I’d done it wrong, if I had just inadvertently hung up on him. Whatever, my hand was shaking a little, which was also unnerving, and so was the whole fluttery feeling in my stomach.
Stop it, I thought. It was okay to be a little excited, but I wasn’t going to get too ahead of myself. It had been years since I’d been in any sort of relationship, and I had really reached the point of my life where I was thinking they might just not be worth it. Was sex really worth it? All the hassle, the headache, the dealing with someone else’s shit? Life was hard enough, wasn’t it? Why take on someone else’s baggage, too?
So I wasn’t going to get too excited. But I also wasn’t necessarily against some good old casual sex. The no-strings-attached kind, where it’s purely physical, with zero emotional involvement. What was so wrong with that? But I felt like it wasn’t something I could openly admit that I was looking for. If I was a guy, maybe, but as a woman it sort of made me feel like a slut.
But really, though, I enjoyed my life as is and didn’t have any complaints, especially now that Joshua was dead. Getting involved with someone would surely complicate things.
There you go, I chastised myself. Already getting way ahead of yourself! It’s one date. You don’t even know this guy.
All very true, but I still couldn’t quite extinguish my excitement.
***
I realized, though, I had nothing to wear to a restaurant like that. After I left the studio, I decided to head downtown to hopefully find something, but after looking in one store, it became clear that I was going to need some help. I called Austin.
“I can’t go out to dinner tonight,” I said. “But I need you to meet me downtown. I have to find a dress.”
“A dress? Is this Gwen that I’m talking to?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Because I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you in a dress. What gives?”
“Um... I’ll tell you when you get down here. I’m going out to a restaurant tonight.”
“With me?”
“No, I’m going to have to take a rain check on that, sorry. But I’ll tell you when you get here. Meet me at Superior Coffee.”
“Ooh, girl, the suspense is killing me. Let me get ready; be there soon.”
After I got off the phone, I went into the coffee shop. I got a small coffee, but then felt too jittery to actually drink it. So I sat at a corner table and tried to calm my nerves until Austin showed up.
“Deets,” he said as he sat down across from me. “I need the deets before we move forward with this. Such as: Where are you going, and who are you going with?”
“Okay,” I said. “Yeah. So... I’m going to La Fille.”
Austin’s eyes bulged. “The La Fille? The La Fille that Anthony worked at? Oh, my God—do you think he still works there?”
“I have no clue; I’ve never set foot in the place. I never thought I would set foot in a place like that. There’s just going to be a bunch of pretentious, rich assholes there.”
Austin grinned. “My kind of people.”
“Maybe you should go in drag as me.”
“Well... who are you going with?”
“Drew.”
“Drew? As in... the Drew you returned the journal to? That Drew?”
“Yes, that Drew. He got in touch with me and asked if he could take me out.”
Austin clapped his hand over his gaping mouth. “Holy shit. Holy shit. See? I knew that I was right about this—that there was going to be more to this story. Maybe I was just wrong about what direction the story was going in.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Girl, I know you’re sublimely ignorant when it comes to things like the upper echelons, but if a man wants to take you to La Fille... that is saying something.”
“Saying what?”
“Well, that part I’m not so sure about. But it’s at least saying that he thinks you’re going to be wor
th the hundreds of dollars he’s going to be dropping.”
“So you’re saying he’s going to expect sex. Which would then really make me a hooker.”
“No, I’m not saying that. But this isn’t some quick stop to the taco truck—this is going to be a full-on experience. And, hell, yes—you were right to call me to help you find the right thing to wear. Left to your own devices, you’d probably show up in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“I thought jeans and a T-shirt were chic.”
“The right kind of jeans, paired with the right T-shirt, can look sort of boho chic, but not at La Fille.”
“The other thing is, I’m not spending hundreds of dollars on a dress.”
“What’s your budget?”
“I don’t know.” I paused, thinking. “Fifty?” That seemed reasonable.
Austin made a face. “Fifty? As in dollars? Euros? Gold bars?”
“Fifty dollars. Look, I’m not going to spend a bunch of money on a dress that I’ll probably wear only once.”
“Come on, Gwen. When was the last time you went on a date?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly. It’s been so long that you can’t even remember.”
“Who cares how long it’s been? I haven’t been looking to go on any dates, so time is irrelevant. I’ve been enjoying my life, just how it is, and I honestly don’t think going out with Drew tonight is going to change that.”
But it could, a little voice whispered in my head. This could be what you’ve been waiting for.
I frowned. What? What I’ve been waiting for? I wasn’t waiting for anything, as far as I knew—I was very happy with the way my life was going. For the most part. Sure, there were always things that could be worked on, improved, but I liked what I did for work, I liked my living situation, and I liked the fact that my free time was mine—no one telling me what to do, or when to do it.
It would seem, though, that this little voice had bubbled up from my subconscious, this suggestion that a date with Drew might be just what I was waiting for. I ignored the voice and focused on Austin, who was asking me where exactly did I think I would find a dress worthy of La Fille for fifty dollars.
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