Tim purchased a copy of her favorite book, “A Tale of Two Cities,” and I carefully carved out, with a utility knife, a space large enough to accommodate it, removing that chunk of the pages so the novel recessed in the hole I’d created. I opened my own book, which was Tim’s signal. A knock came on the door and I rose to answer it. Ginny showed the book to the girl she was talking to.
“Ginny Andrews? Someone’s at the door for you.”
Her mouth hung open, and she glanced at her friend before slowly getting to her feet. She scrutinized my face as she approached, and I tried to keep it bland, but couldn’t help but smile as she got closer, anticipating her surprise. She began to smile, too. I held the door open for her and she tentatively tilted her head in its direction.
In the hall, Tim waited, a bundle of nerves. I was impressed, when he stopped by earlier, that he went to the additional effort of dressing up, thinking it was a nice touch. To his left stood Ernesto Cabal, my graffiti artist. Tim asked him to create a sign, and Ernesto offered to hold it, rather than tape it to the lockers, which was Tim’s original plan. I had to admit, Ernesto outdid himself with the colorful, chunky, interconnected letters on his sign. Tim held a red paper question mark.
In the broken textbook I handed out to Ginny, along with the hidden book, Tim had marked out letters on what was left of the textbook page until the only letters left spelled out Homecoming. In the hall, Ernesto held the sign that read “WITH,” and Tim stood with the question mark which he unfolded, creating the outline of a heart. That was ingenious. I nodded my approval, giving Tim the thumbs up before letting the door close behind Ginny to give them some privacy.
Ernesto entered a few seconds later with a big grin on his face and took his seat. Students around him twisted in their chairs and showered him with questions, but he looked from one to the other and held up his palms with a shrug. They would have to ask the other two if they wanted answers. It was actually the happiest I’d seen Ernesto in a while. I guess he enjoyed being part of the surprise, and having someone appreciate his artwork.
As I reestablished order in the classroom and began the day’s lesson, Ginny reentered, holding Ernesto’s sign and the question mark/heart. She ducked her head and scurried back to her seat. After she sat, she lifted her face. It was red and she was smiling. She whispered a few quick responses to questions thrown at her, then sat up and turned to listen to me, leaving her interrogators no choice but to pay attention, too. Several times during the period, though, I caught her peering off into space thoughtfully, the corners of her lips lifted. I would bet that Tim got a yes.
After school, he stopped by, walking in, all smile and swagger. He’d lost his tie and his shirt was untucked, which suited him better anyway.
“Well?”
“She said yes.’”
“Well, of course she did.” I rose from my chair. “She’s a smart girl. Were you nervous?”
He nodded, slinging his backpack to the ground with a thud. It looked like it contained every book in the library. So full, the seams were splitting. “I almost wussed out and ran. If Ernesto weren’t there, I would have. When I said I wasn’t sure about it, that maybe we should just leave, he was like, ‘And let my beautiful artwork go to waste? No way, man.’ Then he said Ginny was a nice girl and we’d make a cute couple and, before I could stop him, he’d pounded on the door.”
“It’s good to have a buddy backing you up.”
He tilted his head. “That’s the thing. We aren’t even friends. This year is the first time I’ve had a class with him. I knew him by reputation only.” He slowly ran a hand through his hair. “I think, though, we may become friends after this. He’s pretty cool. Anyway—I wanted to thank you for your help.”
I waved him off. “Ahh. It was no big deal. I was happy to be part of it.” I crossed my arms, leaning my rear on my desk. “I almost blew it, though.”
His eyes widened. “You did?”
“Yeah. I miscounted, and the wrong book came up on top.”
He mimicked me, folding his arms. “How’d you get out of that one?”
“Luckily, someone asked me a question and I shoved a book in their hands.”
He laughed. “She probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Probably.” I straightened. “But I didn’t want to take a chance.”
“Well, it worked out great. She loved the book, and the sign Ernesto did, and my question mark. Thanks for helping.” He hefted his bag.
“Anytime.” He started walking toward the door, so I turned to my desk, deciding what to do next.
He stopped and twisted halfway around. “You know. Most teachers would have blown me off, but you got into it. That’s cool.”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m a romantic at heart.”
He spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Yeah. Sure you are.” He waved a hand. “See ya.” And he was gone.
I stretched my back and sighed. Some days it paid to be a teacher. I sat to straighten my desk and pack the stuff I needed into my Army green messenger bag. And just like that, she floated into my mind.
That bomber jacket of hers.
It was nearly the same color as my bag. I stroked my chin, not fighting the automatic smile she brought to me. I missed her so much. Why had I been such an idiot?
I shook myself and grabbed fourth hour’s Civil War battles quizzes and crammed them into my bag.
Last of the great romantics, all right. I chuckled at the thought. How romantic can I be if I haven’t asked anybody out in…years? All because I’m still hung up on my high school sweetheart.
“I’m such a jackass.”
Great. Now I’m talking out loud. It was pathetic. I’d had this internal debate before.
You should ask someone out.
But I don’t want to.
But maybe you should do it anyway. Maybe, once you’re out on a date, you’ll feel differently.
…Nah.
I pushed my chair back and stood, then caught my grade book sticking out from under my In/Out baskets. I’d need that. As I slid it in the bag, my phone buzzed. I rooted around inside. It was probably stuck between papers. The vibrations shook me, but I couldn’t lay my hands on it. Finally, I struck pay dirt and drew it out, answering hurriedly before they hung up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Zack. Uhh…how’s it going?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. I played along, hoping they would say something that would remind me of who they were before I said something stupid.
“Good. Good. And you?”
“Swell.” Whoever he was, he sounded highly annoyed. “So, did you know Nick is seeing Zoe?”
My stomach clenched, and my head spun out.
“Who is this?” They were the only words I could get out.
“It’s Ben.”
Ben?
He hesitated. “Ben Oatam.”
That explained the hesitation. “What the hell—”
“Yeah. Yeah. We can get into a pissing match later. Did you know they were seeing each other?”
Nick? Nick Adams? I lowered my butt back into my seat. It couldn’t be Nick. But my stomach fell away, leaving me cold.
“Well, okay then. I was under the impression you cared about her, but clearly you don’t.” He sighed. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Good—”
“Wait!” I shouted. “Wait. Please. Give me a second.” Was he telling me my best friend, the one who encouraged me to break up with Zoe in the first place, was…with her? “I— I don’t understand what you mean. Nick Adams and Zoe McCord?”
“Do you know a ton of Zoes, Zack? Yes. And, I’ve got to tell you…he’s an even bigger prick than he was in high school.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know he’s a prick? Well, I figured it out pretty quickly when he threatened to take my kid away from me.”
“Your kid?”
“Why does everyone say that? Did you not think me capable of procreating?”
/>
I didn’t want to think about…that. “How do you know Nick is seeing Zoe?”
“Because, man, I just ate dinner with them. Apparently, he’s some hotshot lawyer now, and he threatened to use his influence at the Department of Human Services to take my kid away if I let you know about him and Zoe.”
“But you called me anyway?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I figured it was the least I could do for her, considering…the past.”
You mean, considering the fact you practically raped her?
“He’s not good for her. I can tell. And Zoe’s buying all his crap. She— Oh, shit. My kid’s up. I’ve gotta go. But get your ass up here and straighten things out, Zack.” He paused, and I’d decided he hung up when he spoke again. “You and Zoe, you had a good thing. I don’t know what happened, but I know…that doesn’t die. It never dies.” He sounded sad. Some kid was screaming in the background. “I’ve got to go.” And he clicked off.
Ben, who has a kid, number one called me. Number two, called me to warn me about Zoe.
Number three…told me Nick is seeing her.
“That son-of-a-bitch.”
Chapter 11
Nick
Time for Phase Two of Operation Zoe. I needed to step it up a bit. I knocked on her door.
“Whoa. Don’t you look dapper?”
I smiled, tugging on the cuffs of my suit. “And you.” I took her hand and led her out into the hall. “Let me see this dress.”
Holding a white purse, she stepped into the swath of sunlight pouring in from the window at the end of the hall. She did a slow, sexy twirl, peering at me invitingly over her shoulder as she spun. The dress had a white, sleeveless top with beadwork, and it was—I don’t know what to call the color…mauve, maybe—on the bottom. All around it, curly lines of black flowers flowed from her waist to the hem of the short skirt that fanned out around her. Though a bit of an unusual design, it suited my princess perfectly. She was quirky and stunning. She would be gorgeous in anything—or nothing—but the dress made her feel beautiful and because of that she exuded a fairly magical glow.
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
Blushing, she lowered her head and tried to blow it off, becoming absorbed in her search for the keys in her purse. When she removed them, I took them from her, locked the door, and gave them back. I held out an elbow. “Madame.”
“Oh, Nickie.” She slid her arm through mine and we began our day together.
In the elevator I caught her running her gaze over me again.
“You do look very handsome.”
Instead of responding, I reached over to where her hand grasped the rail on the back wall and rubbed my thumb over it. The Jaguar gleamed as we stepped out of her building. I’d made sure it was in top form for our trip. I kept her occupied on our way over to my secret destination. When we turned into the lot of the small airfield, she clued in.
“Where are we going?”
“To a play, like I said.”
She scrunched her lips together, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Oh. Didn’t I tell you the play’s in New York?”
I relished the expression of shock on her face. “New York?” She checked the clock on the dashboard. “Do we have time for that?”
“Well,” I glided to a stop near the hangar which housed my firm’s private jet. “Remember how I said to keep your calendar clear for most of the day? The play’s not really an early matinee, it’s at two. We’ll hop back on the jet and I have dinner planned for us on the way back.”
Her smile widened. “Well, you thought of everything, didn’t you?”
I took her hand and brought it to my lips. “I try. Oh, and did I mention it was ‘Hamilton’?” I braced myself for the squeal.
“Get out! For real? We’re seeing ‘Hamilton?’”
I smirked. “We have the best seats in the house.”
The play was fabulous, and Zoe gushed about all its aspects as we left the theater. The milder temperatures held giving us a beautiful clear night, especially considering the sprawling metropolis we were in.
I gave her hand on my arm a squeeze. “I love how excited you get. I’ve always loved that about you. You’re not like other girls.”
“What? Like normal?” She grinned.
“Exactly.”
As we waited for the valet, I caught her yawning.
“You know, we don’t have to take off right away. I have a place here we could stay at.”
She nodded, her gaze darting about, and was silent for a moment. “We should get on our way.”
I tampered my wave of disappointment. I would not let anything spoil this night. “Okay. I’ll call the pilot.” I stepped off to the side and called Gabe.
“Yes, Chuck, we’re making our way to the airfield.”
“You dialed me, you dork. Gabe.” He sounded like he’d been taking a late nap.
“What do you mean you’ve been drinking?”
“Well, I’d like to be drinking. Maybe if I were, I’d understand this conversation.”
I continued my ruse. “No. I specifically said we’d likely be going back tonight.”
“What are you up to?” He sounded more awake, and interested. “Is Zoe with you? Where are you anyway?”
“What happened to twelve hours bottle to throttle?”
“You’ve got to be with Zoe,” he puzzled.
“Well, that doesn’t do me a hell of a lot of good tonight, does it?”
Zoe, put her hand on my arm.
“Hold on a minute,” I huffed. I waved the phone around. “I can’t believe it. He’s drunk as a skunk. How do you even get that drunk so quickly?” She frowned and dropped her gaze to the ground, though sliding her hand through mine. I sighed. “I guess I can try to get another pilot.” I glanced at my phone. “But it’s going on five-thirty. I have my doubts I’ll find someone. …And the stinking dinner I planned,” I said as if just remembering it. I looked at her. “You poor thing, you’re probably starving.” I glanced around then nodded my head up the street. “We could go to Lamasseria for dinner and I can work on getting a pilot while we’re waiting for our meal?”
She smiled. “That sounds like a plan. I’m starved.”
“Okay.” I started to walk in that direction.
“What about your drunk pilot?”
“Oh. I almost forgot about him.” I put my phone up to my ear. “Chuck, are you still there?”
Gabe yawned. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“Good. You’re fired.”
“Well, damn,” Gabe said as I clicked off.
“Ooh. Are you sure you have to fire him?”
“Yes,” I answered adamantly.
Lamasseria was one of my favorite restaurants in NYC. Arched, stone recesses on the walls held bottles of wine on wooden shelves and a unique, lighted wall displayed colorful bottles as well, running lengthwise, cork to heel. The Old World Italian charm won Zoe over, but, to be honest, I think she would be equally as happy in a McDonald’s. At first the maître de balked at our lack of a reservation, but a hundred-dollar bill changed his tune, and we were shown to a pleasant table near a fountain designed with a cask of wine in the middle of it. The aromas of vine-ripe tomatoes, garlic and olive oil made our mouths water, curled around the scent of warm Italian bread.
I faked leaving the table to make phone calls after we ordered and played solitaire on my phone in the men’s room.
Zoe looked up as I returned to the table. “Any luck?”
“No.” I threw my hands up. “I’ve tried nine different pilots and they’re all either out of town, or drunk. I’m beginning to sense a pattern here with pilots,” I grumbled. I took a drink of my wine. “I think we just have to stay here and find someone in the morning.”
She sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
I took her hand across the table. “I’m so sorry, Zoe.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Well, it sort of is.
&nb
sp; “Yeah. But I feel bad. You wanted to go home, and now….”
She leaned forward. “It’ll be fine, Nick.”
I grimaced. “Are you sure? …I guess we could drive….”
“Uhh…I’m pretty sure that would be longer than catching a plane in the morning.”
I hung my head.
“It’s fine, Nick. We’ll make the most of it. I didn’t have anything going on, anyway.”
“If you’re sure….”
The waiter arrived with our food. “I’m sure,” she said emphatically, then dug in.
A few hours later, after splitting some out of this world crème brule, we went to check in at The Chatwal. Zoe seemed more comfortable with the idea of a hotel than the corporate condo, probably because she thought I would get separate rooms for us, as she requested.
When we entered the lobby, I directed her to a sitting area. “Have a seat here and I’ll be back with the keys to our rooms.”
At the desk, I checked over my shoulder to see if I was out of hearing range. “Hi. Nick Adams. I have the Topaz Suite.” The clerk typed into his computer and I glanced at Zoe. She was messing around on her phone. I smiled. So far, everything was going as planned.
After I got the key, I sauntered over to her. “You’re going to kill me.”
Her eyes widened. “What now?”
I grimaced. “They only have one suite. One suite. Can you believe it?”
“Oh.”
“Some convention’s in town for…miniature railroad collectors, or something. I could check somewhere else.”
She stood. “Don’t bother. If this place is full, surely the rest are, too.”
Pitchfork in the Road Page 10
