by Brinda Berry
“Tell me.” I yawn and stretch my legs and arms. “This pool is paradise.”
“You think this is? Wait till we get to the beach.”
“What are you talking about? Which beach?” I think the girl must have sunstroke.
“The one you’re going to help me find for the wedding. Me, Ace, you, Collin.”
I sit up so quickly, blood rushes to my head and I wobble in my chair. “Malerie, when you invited me—”
“And you promised you’d come—”
“I meant—”
“You don’t seem the type to break promises.” She pulls down her glasses to peer over the tops.
“I’m not, but, Mal… You cannot be serious.” The entire day seems like a dream. I’m sitting beside a fancy pool with a girl who is talking about a beach wedding she concocted only moments ago.
She flashes me a Texas-sized smile. “You like the idea. Admit it.”
I lie back down and close my eyes. If she only knew. I picture the clear turquoise water, a little school of tropical fish darting in between my feet, a shell necklace around my throat.
“Hey, ladies.” Collin’s low voice rumbles from too close.
I fall sideways in my effort to sit up. Collin grabs my arm and steadies me upright.
“Collin,” I squeak. I peer up into his dark, hooded eyes.
“You should be careful or you’ll fall at my feet.” His face nears mine and for a minute I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.
Malerie hops from her lounge chair. “I hope you brought food. Eat now. Flirt later. I need sustenance.”
“Uh-hmm.” Collin’s gaze sweeps down to my chest and back up, his expression growing more heated with each second.
My warm skin flushes under his pointed ogling. I might burst into flames of lust if he doesn’t stop. “Stop,” I whisper.
Malerie gives a throaty and entirely too amused laugh. “Please stop. Let’s eat and then you two can get it on with the eye sex. Reward me for texting you the invite. Bring the bag over here!” She taps the patio table.
Collin winks before backing away and take the food to her. “Why didn’t I get an invitation to swim? What’s up with me being a delivery boy?”
“Don’t complain, cabana boy. You’re here now. Jump in.” She smirks.
I move to the nearest chair under the umbrella. Collin’s intentional teasing has my body humming in vibrate mode. “You’re so nice to bring this.”
He moves to stand beside me, his gaze caressing me. “I’ll deliver day or night for you.”
“I… I…” There’s obviously a disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Loose wire. Misfire. Electrical burnout.
Collin leans toward me, one elbow on the table. “Is it me or is it getting hotter?”
My mouth goes desert dry.
Malerie chuckles. “Can you guys at least pretend you know I’m still here?”
Collin never turns his head. “Mal, I’ve watched you and Ace get—”
“Touché,” she says. “Okay, continue. Don’t mind me. Maybe I should get my phone out and film for the show. The fans want some video and I have nothing exciting for this week.”
“Mal?” Collin says in mock seriousness, moving even closer to me. “There is a fine line between playful and annoying.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m eating now. Keeping my mouth shut.”
Collin’s lips part in a wicked grin. “I bet I can find some trunks. Want to go in with me?”
“I could.” There’s a fluttering in my stomach that won’t be still. It’s a nervous excitement saying maybe. Maybe this is the big deal about off-the-charts physical attraction. Sex. Maybe this is why people get all obsessed with sex. And maybe this will make it all different for me.
“Good. Don’t go anywhere. Mal? Got some swim trunks I can borrow?” He’s already walking away, not waiting for her answer.
“Help yourself,” she yells. Malerie lowers her chin and raises her sunglasses. “Kids, be careful. Wear protection when getting frisky.”
Heat burns my already sun-warmed face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Whatever. I’m thrilled about it. Holy Toledo, he’s out-of-his-mind smitten.”
I crinkle my brow. “No. He’s having fun. That’s all.”
“Oh, go ahead and deny, deny, deny. I have eyes and ears. The man has it bad,” she says and pops an apple slice into her mouth.
“You think so? Shh … he’s coming back.” I grab the sunscreen bottle and study the back of it. “And it says to reapply after getting wet.”
“Oh really?” Malerie’s eyes grow round in mock interest. “I didn’t know this fascinating trivia.”
Collin saunters over to my chair, never taking his gaze from me. I have a difficult time making eye contact. I’ve seen him before without a shirt when we went to the lake. But today, I feel a different level of awareness.
My gaze travels over his sleek chest and muscled abs. I suddenly remember him telling me about his razor in the shower and my eyes roam farther down.
One corner of his mouth tips at the corner. “Ready?”
“I guess.” I hate how my voice sounds so shy and uncertain. I’m the girl who hangs out with the boys.
Collin moves to lay his arm along the back of my chair. He runs a hand over my right shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I hope we are still talking about swimming. At this moment, I might agree to anything. “Yes,” I whisper. The pulse in my neck taps a quick beat. I swallow.
“Good,” he says and picks me up. “Because you’re going in.”
“No,” I squeal, giving a happy laugh. “Let me get used to the water. Put me down.”
Collin winks and continues the two feet to the pool. “Sometimes you have to quit worrying and jump in.”
“Don’t you dare!” Those are my last words before he tosses me in.
17
Collin
When the office door opens, I’m expecting the UPS guy or a window washer. Sometimes a passerby stops in to ask directions. Yesterday, a kid asked for donations even though we have a huge sign in the window that warns off solicitors.
The guy who walks through the door wears faded jeans, a gray button down with a logo on the pocket, and a white ball cap. He looks at me first and then stares at Veronica.
“Can I help you?” I don’t like the way he’s looking at her.
The guy glances at me dismissively before returning his pointed stare to her.
“Veronica. You going to pretend you don’t know me?” he says.
I get to my feet at those words. I don’t consider myself to be quick to pick a fight, but this guy wins the prize in pushing my buttons just being in the room.
Veronica sits in her chair and presses both hands on top of her desk. It’s a small move and I wonder if she’s steadying herself or getting ready to bolt. “Gunner,” she says.
I move to place myself between Veronica’s desk and this guy. “Veronica?” I say without turning my back on him. “Is this okay?”
The sound of her footsteps surprise me. I don’t know what I thought she’d do. Her relationship with her brother isn’t completely clear. I’m not even sure her brother is a good guy. And for some reason, I think in that instant of the secrets Raquel kept from me.
Veronica and Raquel could be more alike than I know—beautiful, secretive, and able to crumple my heart like a used piece of paper. I’m left with an aftertaste of familiarity and panic.
He looks at her in a way I didn’t expect. It’s meaningful and longing. It might be the way I look at her.
The room is heavy with unnatural quiet. Time has suspended as I try to convince myself I’m wrong. I’m reading too much into a normal brotherly look.
Step-brother, I correct myself.
My jackhammering pulse pounds in my head. If there’s something I’m missing here, I’d be surprised. In this moment, I take in everything.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Gunner, you should’ve let me know
you were coming.”
“Right. Exactly like you let me know you were running off.” Gunner tucks his hands into his pockets. He’s a big guy. Big and tall as some professional football players I’ve seen. My first instinct is I might be able to take him, but it would be close.
I stay exactly where I am, five feet from the guy like I’m guarding Veronica.
This isn’t the old west and I’m not a gunslinger so it’s crazy that my fingers twitch from the effort of holding still. I have the distinct impulse to do something violent to this guy.
She sighs and puts her hand on my arm. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to talk to Gunner.”
The only thing I can do is nod. She’s not asking my permission.
Veronica leaves the room to go to the loft and he follows her. My gaze follows them up the stairs, each step taking her away from my world. I want to listen to what he has to say to her. I don’t want any secrets between us.
I’m left with nothing to do but wait.
My desk is my refuge while I count the minutes. I organize a drawer of files. If I keep busy, I won’t think about what they’re doing upstairs. I unbox the office supplies delivered earlier in the day.
What’s taking so long?
Most of my work is done on the computer and I won’t be able to concentrate until he’s gone and she’s back downstairs at the desk across from me. When footsteps sound on the stairs, I open a package of staples and reload my half-full stapler.
Gunner walks down the stairs, hesitates at the door, and turns to look back up to the loft.
When I’m sure he’s going to leave, he does the opposite and walks to my desk. “Can I have a pen and paper?” he asks. His voice has this Southern-boy twang, soft and polite. Not as gruff as it sounded earlier when he came in.
I push the items across the desk to him.
He scribbles on the top sheet and taps the pad once as if thinking about writing more, and then slides it back to me. “Hang on to this. Use it anytime. She’s all I have.” He straightens and walks out the door without a backward glance.
I pull the pad to me. Three lines are scrawled across it, a phone number and an address. I slide the note into the top drawer of my desk.
Veronica’s footsteps sound on the stairs and I glance up at her.
“Hey. Sorry about that.” Veronica moves to her desk without making eye contact. There’s something vulnerable about the off-hand way she says it. “Gunner’s going to mail a box of my personal things to me.”
I don’t know what to say. “That will be fine.”
“So, what should I do next? Maybe I can use the fancy receipt scanner some more. I could organize all the current year…” She sits down slowly, as if to prevent herself from falling.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” She grabs a manila folder and shoves paper inside. I doubt she’s even aware of what she’s filing.
I stare at the screensaver scrolling across my monitor.
Staple. Shuffle. Snip.
She cuts a piece of paper into tiny giblets.
“Veronica?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Destroying this receipt.” Snip-snip-snip.
Each slice of the paper rips into my heart. She’s destroying something all right, but it’s not paperwork. “It would take the world’s smallest puzzle expert to recreate that. I think we’re good.”
She slams the scissors down on the desk. Her face is pale and eyes wide. “It’s not supposed to be this hard.”
“I can … um … buy a shredder.” I feel like more of an ass for trying to make her laugh.
“I’m not feeling well. Would you mind if I take off the rest of the day? It’s been a bad day and I’ll be fine tomorrow. Really.” Veronica presses her lips into a smile, absently rubs her fingers across her mouth, and walks upstairs without waiting for an answer
I wait a few minutes, but can’t seem to stop myself when I head up the stairs after her.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I linger. The door is closed and I rap softly. “Veronica? May I come in?”
“Yes.”
I open the door and see her lying on her back. She stares at the rafters and clutches a pillow to her chest.
The futon is narrow, but I nudge her to move so I can sit beside her head. I smooth hair from her face, my fingers caressing her forehead.
“I can’t talk about it.” Her hands cover her mouth.
“It’s all right. I wanted you to know I’m here for you. I’ve had family upset with me in the past and know how tough it can be.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “Oh?”
“Raquel isn’t the only reason I left Chicago. My dad wants me to work for him. He’s not too happy with my career choice.”
“What’s he want you to do?” She moves the pillow to her side and relaxes a little. I react by automatically moving closer and pulling her head onto my lap.
“He’s a distributor for industrial supplies, the stuff building contractors use. He owns Cordova Steel.”
“And you didn’t want to work there?”
“No.” I drop my hand to her shoulder and rub my thumb absently over her soft skin.
“I’m sure it will take time for him to get used to the idea.”
“A long time,” I smile and twine a piece of her hair through my fingers.
“Maybe less than you think. I’m sure he wants you to do what’s best for you.”
“I doubt that. Dad thought I’d major in business and step up to take over when he retires.”
“Will he retire soon?”
I think of my dad and his expansion plans. The details of each project he spoke about after graduation. I still wore my cap and gown when he outlined it, step one all the way to step twenty. “No. He has a lot he wants to do before then.”
“Maybe you might work with him later?” Her voice is soft and soothing.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But probably not. I don’t want to become my dad.”
“You don’t like him.”
“I did a long time ago. He’s different from when I was a kid.”
“People change. What do you think made him a different man?”
I study the way her brow crinkles as if she’s trying to help me solve this problem. “Not paying attention to the things that matter. People are important and it all went to hell when he forgot about my mom and me. It was all numbers and power and the next challenge.”
She nods. “Sort of like my mom thought about her next fix. She’d forget about me for days. One time, I was maybe eight or nine—this was before she married Jerry—she didn’t come home for two days. I woke up one morning and went into her bedroom. When I saw the bed was empty, I thought maybe she’d gone to work early.” She gives a bitter laugh. “So stupid because she never did that.”
“What did you do?”
“Made a box of macaroni and cheese. I’d been cooking for a while. Ate it for breakfast and caught the bus for school.”
“Shit.”
“It really wasn’t a big deal except for the fact she didn’t come home that night or the next.” She says this in the same tone she’d say her mom forgot to buy milk or sign her report card.
“I can’t take much more of this,” I say, sweeping her hair off her forehead only because I enjoy touching it.
“What?”
“This conversation. It’s damn depressing.”
Her lips part in a slight flash of white teeth. Not a huge I’m-walking-on-sunshine smile, but I’ll take it. It’s a survivor’s smile.
“I think I’m going to rest for a while. Okay?” She’s urging me away with these words and it’s all I can do not to beg her to let me stay exactly where I sit.
“Sure. I’ll go get some work done and check on you later. You all right with that?”
She nods and rolls to her side. My cue to leave.
The futon is still up in a sofa position. Veronica’s turned to
her side, facing the back. I quietly release the lever to make it into a bed. She doesn’t stir. “Sweet dreams,” I say as I walk to the stairs.
18
Veronica
July 4th, 5:30 pm, Shelby City
Shelby City’s Fourth of July parades are tradition. Families gather on the sidewalks around the town square and watch the floats with an excitement rivaling Carnivale. For heaven’s sake, it’s just a bunch of floats with the same hometown people standing on them year after year. Nothing changes and I think it’s what some folks love about the parade.
“Here, baby. Bought this for you.” Shawn hands me a cone of pink and blue cotton candy.
“Ah, thanks.” I reach over and kiss his cheek.
He grins at me and pinches off a bite of the sugary treat. I think he’s going to eat it, but then he slowly presses the fluff to my mouth and forces me to take it. His fingers linger between my lips. “I’d love to have those lips wrapped around me.”
It’s almost a hundred degrees outside, but my skin temperature is hotter. There’s a mother and two little boys within earshot. The sugar melts on my tongue and I swallow. Gunner watches us, his eyes all squinty and pissed.
He hates Shawn. They were friends once and played football together on Friday nights for the Shelby City Panthers. It’s tough to remember the days when they would hang out together.
Even back then, I had the biggest crush on Shawn Sterling. Who wouldn’t? Blond and bold and so unattainable. Every girl in my class dreamed of being his girlfriend.
Gunner isn’t looking at me now, instead staring a burning hole through Shawn.
Does Gunner have some super mindreading power to know I’ve had sex with Shawn? It’s only been twice and both times were in his car. It’s not how I thought my first time would happen. In the novels I read, the guy would bring flowers and take the heroine by the hand, lead her to a bed where he’d kiss her senseless. He’d make her feel like she couldn’t bear to wait any longer.
And he’d tell her the entire time how much he loved her.
It wasn’t exactly like that in real life. I live in a trailer. Shawn still lives with his parents. No flowers. No sweet talk. No bed.
