Bait

by M. Mabie

  Something fowl had died in my refrigerator while I'd been on the road and I'd spend the better part of the evening aggressively cleaning out the putrid appliance. When I was walking in from taking the trash out my phone rang.

  It was her.

  I looked at the ceiling for the answers, but then I realized they weren't there. They were on the other end of that call. I connected the call, but my voice didn't kick in in the normal way it should.

  “Casey? You there?” she asked not knowing if the call had gone through.

  I walked to my recliner, sat down and leaned back. “Yeah. I'm here.”

  “I didn't think you'd answer. I'm really sorry.” That was all good and well, but her apology didn't fix anything.

  “What do you have to be sorry for, Blake?” I ran my hand through my hair and sighed in exasperation. “The whole thing sucks.”

  “I know.” Her voice cracked, something I hadn't heard before. “For me, too. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

  “When did you get engaged? How long ago?”

  “July,” she said quietly. “The day Aly messaged me and told me I was a nobody.” She sounded liked she'd been scolded for stealing cookies and was trying to plead her case.

  My head pounded.

  My eyes shut and tightened.

  The day Aly messaged her? Wait. I'd seen her after that.

  “I saw you in July.” My voice was cool, my emotions were anything but. It had to be a coincidence. The two couldn't be connected. “Why didn't you say something then?”

  “I don't know,” she bellowed through the receiver.

  I couldn't hold in my frustration any more. “Yes, you do. Why? Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I didn't want it to stop. I didn't want you to, I don't know, ignore me.” She sighed.

  “What do you want? Because you're confusing the fuck out of me.”

  The line was quiet, but I could hear her moving on the other end. It sounded like she was tapping something. It was the only tip I had that told me she was still there.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  “I told you. I don't know,” she said.

  Again it sounded like the truth, but what did I know about her truths? What did I know about her at all?

  I knew her nose lit up when she was turned on. I knew she had a temper to rival the one I was growing into. I knew that every time I was around her she consumed me. I was back at square fucking one.

  “Are you really going to marry him?” I had to know. If she was, then what was all of this for?

  She sniffed. “Do you want this to end, Casey? I know it's messed up and that I'm messed up. But for now, can't we just have fun? I don't know what I want.”

  “Then why did you tell him yes?” I'd lost my temper.

  “Because! I did! You had a girlfriend. We had a one-night stand, for Pete's sake. I've been with Grant a long time. He had just bought me a damn house! That day, when Aly said those things, I didn't know what to think. She obviously knew we were talking. I didn't know what to believe, then Grant took me to the house and proposed. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” Her voice had escalated to shouting, but then it lowered again when she continued. “But now…now I don't know.”

  It was messed up. She was right. If I would have just dead-bolted my hotel door. If I would have told Marc that I wanted to take the trip alone. If she would have called me like she said she would and told me about what happened.

  If.

  If.

  If.

  IF!

  Still, she wasn't married yet and she was talking to me. And she didn't know what she wanted. There was still hope. Still a chance that maybe she wanted me. We still had time.

  “It's okay.”

  “It's not okay, Casey.”

  “It will be. We don't have to talk about that. Not now.”

  “We don't?” She sounded hopeful, relieved.

  “Well, you're not off the hook yet, honeybee.”

  She mock-laughed, a small nervous chuckle vibrated through the phone. Then Blake said, “I feel awful.”

  “I don't.” I kind of did. I shouldn't have lied, little and white as it was, but I wanted her to talk to me. The sex part was crazy hot, and her body made my rational thinking quite the opposite, but there was just something about her. Her wit. Her charm. Her.

  And to actually tell the fucking truth he was a fool. What kind of man, who had a girl like my Blake, wouldn’t feel the need to light her up, to get her eyes shining like I'd seen? If he wasn't doing that, and clearly he wasn't, otherwise what was she getting from me? You know? Like why the hell didn't he spend every moment playing and kissing and fucking showing this girl a good time?

  Was mediocre really all what she wanted? We had more than that, didn’t we?

  I knew what she wanted. She wanted a thrill.

  I was her thrill. I wasn't her boyfriend, and I wasn't her fiancé. I was a spark. Something that excited her; something that made her bones hum with life. And if that was the kind of thing she wanted—because I sure as hell did—then I'd give it to her.

  I'd show her. She'd see it, eventually.

  I didn't know about marriage or houses or even how a real relationship worked.

  But I was positive that I wanted her the same fucking way people wanted summer in February and how dogs want their bellies rubbed. Naturally. Lighting her up came naturally to me.

  We spoke for a little longer, after pausing for the dust to settle, and it was almost like nothing had happened. We argued and laughed. She told me that she didn't like the old Star Wars as much as the new Star Wars and so I hung up on her.

  She called right back just to hang up on me.

  I called her back and we talked for another two hours. I told her about the time I flipped a golf cart my junior year in high school, after I drank too much, and broke my collarbone.

  She told me about how her best friend from high school, Kari, had a ferret who bit her every time she tried to enter her friend's bedroom. It got so bad that she wouldn't go over there anymore.

  So her friend had to come over to her house to hang out. It didn't sound so interesting until she got to the part where her friend and her oldest brother started dating and eventually got married. She'd began the story with, “Want to hear the story about how a ferret got my brother married?”

  Who could say no to that?

  Before I got off of the phone with her that night, I said, “I want to do this, if you want to do this.”

  She yawned and said, “I want to do this.”

  Then we hung up for real.

  Tuesday, November 4th, 2008

  Me: I'm coming to Seattle to see Audrey. She's homesick and I set up a few meetings?

  Honeybee: When?

  Me: Next weekend through the beginning of the week.

  Honeybee: I'll be in town.

  Me: I'll be in you.

  Delete.

  Me: Maybe we can meet up?

  Honeybee: Sure.

  Audrey was homesick, for her sister, not for me.

  Sure, she loved me, but Audrey and our younger sister Morgan were almost inseparable. Since Audrey left for school, Morgan had begged me to take her for the weekend to see her and I had a few new customers in the city I could visit, so it worked out.

  It had also been a while since I’d seen Blake and I wanted to.

  Like really wanted to.

  We'd re-implemented the she'll text me first in the evenings policy.

  I hated it. I hated thinking about it and sometimes when I was in a particularly dicky mood about it I'd text her back that I was busy and that I'd text her later.

  I always felt like I'd shown her.

  Then I'd realized that what I really wanted was to talk to her and that I was the one postponing it. Then I'd give in, twenty minutes later, and text her back.

  I couldn't help it.

  Monday, November 10th, 2008

  Honeybee: What is a four-lett
er word for idle or proud? How was your day?

  Me: Good. Signed contracts with two wineries today. Wine drinkers like beer, I guess.

  Honeybee: It's for their husbands. If there is beer then the guy will go. You're saving marriages, Lou. Bravo.

  I guessed that would be good for my karma, since I was doing my damnedest to prevent one.

  Me: Makes sense. How was your day?

  Honeybee: I made the best tartar sauce on the planet. So, not bad.

  Me: Vain.

  Honeybee: Okay, maybe not the best tartar sauce, but it was good. Everyone liked it.

  Me: No. Your word. It's VAIN.

  Honeybee: Oh. Good. I was like 'my sauce rocks, fucker.'

  Me: LOL. Your sauce rocks.

  Friday, November 14th, 2008

  Me: Picking up Morgan and catching a plane. Text me later?

  Honeybee: Safe travels.

  Morgan was so excited. It was crazy how different my two younger sisters were and how much they loved each other. Morgan, Ms. Optimism Fix The World, and Audrey, Ms. I Can Paint A New, Prettier World, couldn't have been less alike. Where Morgan followed the rules, Audrey followed her heart. A scholar and an artist, and two best friends.

  Sure, they each had their own best friends, but for the most part they were so close. They rarely fought, which we all thought was strange. Cory and I fought like the north and south in high school at times.

  On the flight, Morgan told me about how many of her classes were weighted how she'd actually graduate in December, but that she'd still walk with her class in March.

  “I'll start college this winter actually.”

  “Are you serious? No break?”

  “I just had a break in the summer and there will be Christmas break in between. It won't really change anything, I'll still live at home with Mom and Dad. I'll just go to City College for classes instead of Balboa High. It'll give me a jump start for my freshman year,” she explained.

  My little, baby sister was about to start college. That was weird. “Will you leave after that?” I should have encouraged her to go out into the world, like I had Audrey, but Morgan was the baby. I selfishly wanted her to stay at Dad and Carmen's for another few years.

  She shrugged.

  “I haven't decided. I might just stay in the Bay. Go to UCSF. It's ridiculous to pay for out of state college when I have amazing schools in my backyard. I can live at home and save even more money. I could volunteer more that way.”

  I looked at my little sister like she was a tap-dancing pigeon. She laughed at my expression as we were touching down in Seattle.

  “It's called growing up, Casey. I want to be a responsible adult.” Her face was so genuine and proud. It was amazing watching these two girls turn into such cool young women. Audrey was at art school, passionate and driven by her every feeling.

  Morgan was motivated by her conscience.

  “Have a little fun, too. Okay? You're making me look bad,” I teased as I helped her get her carry-on out of the over-hear compartment.

  “I will, Casey.”

  As we walked through SeaTac to find Audrey, who was meeting us there, I powered my phone back up.

  Honeybee: I'm at the Hotel Max.

  Me: What? I thought you were in town?

  Morgan was planning on staying with Audrey and I was going to get a room near campus. In my head, I imagined that I'd see Blake. Get a coffee or take a walk or something. It sucked to think that I'd missed her.

  Missing her was a full-time job.

  Honeybee: I am. I'm at the Hotel Max. It's near Cornish.

  Oh, shit. I was wrong. She hadn't left. She'd got a room.

  “Yes!” I shouted as we walked from our terminal to baggage claim. I even did the fist-pump victory move, usually only reserved for scoring in sports. But it finally felt like I'd won something. She took a step toward me, and on her turf nonetheless. There was finally a point on the us side of the scoreboard and that was one less for them.

  “What is that all about?” Morgan said, rubber-necking to see her brother acting like a fool in the airport. Her curly, blonde ponytail swinging as she teetered between watching where we were going, for the both of us, and looking at me for a clue as to what was so awesome.

  “I'm meeting up with...my friend,” I answered her finally.

  Her face looked skeptical, but she smiled. “Must be some friend.”

  Me: I'm going to have dinner with the girls then I'll be there. What room?

  Honeybee: 1002

  Dinner could not have gone any damn slower. I loved my sisters, but they were in their own world talking about people I didn't know and things I didn't much care about. Well, I might have if I didn't know that a woman I'd been dreaming about was waiting for me only minutes away. In a hotel room.

  I don't know why Blake did it, but I wasn't about to question it.

  Friday, November 14, 2008

  I ASKED MYSELF OVER and over, what the hell was I doing?

  My logic was simple. My family was at early holiday party, which I’d bailed out of days before. And Grant would be working late. He said earlier he was going home after his last showing and that he wanted to work on the house the next day. He was expecting me to be there, too.

  We only had one night. But we still had one whole night.

  He wouldn't even know I was gone. Still, inviting Casey to my apartment seemed wrong on so many levels. I doubted that anyone would just stop by. That would've been weird. I was already having a hard time thinking about him when I shouldn't be. When I really shouldn't be. I didn't need a constant reminder of him in my home.

  A hotel was a better plan. It was safe. It should have felt wrong and dirty, but it felt right and I was excited to see him. It had been a while.

  I paced the room.

  He'd sent a text when he landed and had planned to eat dinner with his sisters. That was kind of sweet, I thought. He was a great brother. He talked with his sisters all the time and if they called when we were on the phone, he always switched over to get their calls instead of letting it go to voicemail.

  I don't really know what about that made me like him more, but it did.

  I had to leave my brothers voicemails all of the time. They could learn a thing or two from Casey. When I thought about it, I never really had to leave Casey voicemails either. That made me smile. He made people feel important.

  I checked my face in the mirror. Where that morning I looked run down, at that moment I appeared awake and alert. I felt excited and nervous but in a good way. Every time I thought I heard a sound at the door I felt a flutter inside me that sent tingles, like little air bubbles, through my veins.

  Then it was the real thing. It was him.

  After he knocked again, I peeked through the peephole to see him standing in front of it with a Cheshire cat-like smile. His hands were behind his back and his hair was the perfect mess. His tall slim figure was wearing jeans, chucks, and a loose, black and white striped V-neck T-shirt. He looked edible.

  I opened the door too fast and allowed what little coolness I had, run right out of the room like when I was a child on a hot summer day waiting for my dad to get home.

  “Hi.” I laughed and stepped back for him to come in. He grinned and came inside. It was a little awkward, and a lot not awkward at the same time.

  “Hi,” he said, but he looked like he was hiding something.

  “What's behind your back?”

  “Oh, this?” he rhetorically asked as he brought a brown paper sack out between us. I had the urge to grab it. “It's nothing.”

  “What is it?” I made a move to steal it, but he saw me and swiped it away.

  “Punchy tonight, are we?” He laughed.

  “I'm going to punch you, now what's in the bag?” I said as I stealthily began to walk circles around him.

  “Well, Audrey was telling Morgan about this place downtown that had the best cheesecake. So...”

  “Oh. God. Tell me it's cheesecake.” I'm not a sw
eets kind of girl, unless you count chocolate, ice cream, and cheesecake. Then I'm a fiend. And if it was the place I was thinking of, then I was going to melt there on the spot.

  “It's cheesecake. Well, it's a few cheesecakes actually.” His face remained stoic and demure.

  Cheesecakes from downtown that could fit into that little bag? I knew exactly where they were from.

  “They're already closed. It's after eight. How did you get them?” I asked. Don't ask me how I know that The Confectional closes at six. It isn't like I'd ever been there a little too late and nearly cried or anything.

  “I have connections. And I think I remember a particular day when my favorite girl didn't get her dessert.”

  I watched his eyes roll up and to the right. He was adorable in that moment. My heart swelled watching him play with me in real-life, just has he had all these weeks on the phone. It was like getting-paid-on-your-day-off good.

  Casey continued, “The menus you ordered from that one place—the Prick Printers, I think you called them—came in all wrong and you said that you should have been an accountant instead. Remember?”

  I did remember and more interesting was that he remembered, too.

  “I remember. All I wanted was—”

  “Quadruple Chocolate,” he interrupted, answering for me. “And I didn't get you one.”

  Cruel. It was so cruel to bring up the best, most delicious chocolate heaven for your mouth and not bring one. The Turncoat he was.

  “You didn't?”

  “Nope.” Then, the most evil grin spread like fire across his face. He was incandescent and ornery. “I got you two.”

  I thought I was dreaming. Right here before me was a sinfully sexy man who brought me ecstasy on a platter.

  “I think I need to sit down.” I was humoring him and trying to be funny, but in all actuality, the concept of him thinking to bring this made my knees weak.

  “Yeah, your nose is looking a little pink.” He laughed, breaking the pretend concerned character he was trying to pull off.

  “What did you get for you?” The possibilities were endless.

  In a voice almost as rich and smooth as the dessert in the bag, he crooned, “I didn't. I thought it would be more fun to convince you to give me one of yours.”