Deep Blue

Home > Other > Deep Blue > Page 7
Deep Blue Page 7

by Jules Barnard


  Jesus, as hard as my mom worked at the casinos to put Tyler and me through college, I’m proud. She only recently relocated to Carson. She’s got a stable job with benefits there. It pays less than what she made in Tahoe, but Carson City has lower living costs. “I will, I promise. I’ve been getting settled with my job and all, but I’ll come out as soon as I can.”

  “Well, don’t take too long, or you’ll be leaving again.”

  For grad school. How could I forget?

  “So, what do you think?” he asks.

  “About what?” Tyler doesn’t know about my reservations over school. I’m avoiding thinking about them, but they’re fixed in my subconscious.

  “Dude, what’s up with you? About me driving out.”

  “Oh. I already said I want you to come.”

  “Cool. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Everything all right?”

  I wouldn’t call my brother the most perceptive male, but he can be at inopportune times. “Yeah, fine.”

  And it will be. Now that things are officially over with Eric, I’ll eventually move on. It’s everything else that has me screwed up. At some point I’ll have to address school. Just not now.

  Two hours later, Tyler walks in the door and drops his duffel on the dark brown wall-to-wall carpet of our rental house. We picked this place for its proximity to the lake, but it’s the size of a dog kennel and the furnishings look like something from a seventies sitcom.

  Tyler lifts his brows wearily. “Where do you want me?” He peeks inside the single bedroom. “I don’t mind spooning with Gen, but you snore.”

  “I do not snore!” I punch him in the arm and he grins. “You can sleep in the loft.” We both tip our heads back to view the alcove above the kitchen.

  We have a single bedroom, but there’s a small loft up there with a sketchy pull-down ladder. Neither Gen nor I wanted to risk our lives to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, so we share the queen downstairs.

  “Leave your stuff here, there’s not much space up there.”

  His gaze is dubious. “Is there a bed?”

  “There’s a full mattress on the floor. You’ll be fine.”

  Tyler digs into his duffel, already spilling shit across our living room floor.

  “Tyler, our place is small. Rein in the clutter.”

  He bites into the PowerBar he unearthed from his crusty bag and scratches his flat belly. “Can’t. Not my nature.”

  This argument’s a losing battle. He’s totally right and sometimes I wonder how he manages to attract as many women as he does. Physically, I suppose he’s good looking. His hair is wavy and a little longish and hipster, especially when paired with his dark reading glasses. I’m not going to call the color red, because he’d kill me and it’s not totally accurate. Let’s call it chestnut—a medium brown with red highlights. Lots of red highlights. Neither of us are carrot tops like our mother. I am forever grateful for our father’s plain brown hair.

  Tyler and I both have pale blue eyes, and that’s probably our most redeeming physical quality. I often get complimented for mine by the opposite sex. I assume he does too. Add to that a six-foot-two athletic build, and I suppose some women might find him attractive, if you look past his slovenly ways, flash temper, and myriad other annoying habits I’ve had to live with all my life. As a brother, though, he’s protective, funny, and loyal.

  Over the next couple of days, Tyler and I hit our favorite food spots and he visits me at the casino. He brought his mountain bike, so when I’m sleeping in the a.m. after working late, he entertains himself on the trails with a buddy still living in town.

  Having Tyler around has been good for my morale. I’m feeling sorry for myself and Tyler keeps me distracted. He has no patience for mopers and is highly vocal about it—usually in the form of an insult that pisses me off and snaps me from my depression.

  The weekend’s almost here and I’m working tonight, but Tyler has dropped in for a visit. He’s gambling at my table and I’m kicking his ass, which is sweet music because he always beat me at cards growing up.

  “Damn, Cali, when did you become a shark?”

  I’m trying to act professional, but I can’t help shooting Tyler a smug look when my customers aren’t looking. I have three decks in my dispenser, which reduces a player’s ability to make predictions. Tyler counted cards when we were kids. He is disabled at Blue.

  Despite my best intentions not to, I’ve obsessed over asking Tyler about Jaeger. I don’t want to give my brother the wrong impression. Knowing him, he’d assume I had a thing for his buddy and get all overprotective. But it’s been long enough since his arrival that I think it’s safe to venture onto the subject.

  My last real customer saunters off and I deal Tyler another hand, ever-so-casually saying, “So, I think I ran into one of your friends from high school. Do you remember that athlete, Jaeger?”

  “Jaeg?”

  Jaeg. That’s why his name was familiar, but not. He went by a nickname in high school. “Yeah, isn’t he the one you said was going to the Olympics?”

  “For skiing. Of course I remember him—he was one of my best friends. But he’s not going to the Olympics—or he didn’t go.” Tyler swipes his hand for a hit, and then hits again after I deal the card. He busts with a king, a three, and a nine. “Shattered his knee. Sort of dropped off after that.”

  So that’s how Jaeger’s sports career ended. I saw the scar on his knee at the beach, but didn’t put the two together. Athletes are intense about their sports. Olympic athletes border on obsessive. It had to have been difficult for Jaeger to start over. My brother is by no means a champion athlete, but even he gets aggro when it comes to training on his bike.

  Jaeger’s new wood-whittling profession should reduce his appeal, but for some reason it doesn’t. I’m not sure if it’s the effort it must have taken to reinvent himself that appeals, or if it’s just him, in whatever form, I’m attracted to. And that scares me. It’s too soon for me to pursue someone else.

  “What’s Jaeg up to?”

  “His friend works here.” I point to Mason at the East Bar. “Gen and I have hung out with them a couple of times.”

  Tyler pockets his remaining chips and stands, glancing at Mason’s bar. Only a couple of customers hover in front of Mason and the other bartender at the moment. “I’ll talk to your friend and ask him about Jaeg. Maybe we can get together before I go home.”

  The idea of me, Tyler, and Jaeger in the same room is unnerving. I’m hoping Tyler’s plans with Jaeger do not include me. The last thing I want is for Tyler to pick up on my attraction to his friend and give me a hard time about it.

  Tyler sidles up to my table a little while later, but I’m busy and can’t talk. It’s not until the next day that he brings up his conversation with Mason.

  He pulls milk out of the fridge and drinks from the carton like the animal he is, while I paint my toes on the kitchen floor a couple of feet away. “So, what’s on the docket for tonight?” He shoves the milk back on the shelf—mental note: Throw out carton with Tyler germs—and drums his fingers on the counter. The high energy he’s exuding leads me to believe he has something in mind.

  I carefully rub a pink splotch off the tip of my big toe with a paper towel. “Nothing. Why?”

  “Your friend Mason gave me Jaeger’s number. I got ahold of him and he invited us to his parents’ place for dinner tonight.”

  I mentally gasp. I’m not ready to see Jaeger. My newfound freedom might propel me to do something stupid, like attack him for hot rebound sex. “Umm—”

  It’s possible that the attraction I’ve felt for him stems from my frustration with Eric. That I was grasping for attention and Jaeger was the closest good-looking guy available. There’s also the possibility that Jaeger paid me attention to give Mason time to chat up Gen. He and I were paired together in the fishing boat so Gen and Mason could be alone. And later, Jaeger hauled me off at the party so Mason could make his move.

&nbs
p; “What’s wrong? I thought you became friends with Jaeger this summer?”

  “I did.” There’s still a chance my attraction to Jaeger isn’t an artifact of Eric’s neglect, or an illusion on Jaeger’s part for the purpose of Mason hooking-up with Gen. It’s this possibility that scares the hell out of me.

  Tyler rubs his forehead and looks around. “We don’t have to go. I’d like to see him, but I’m here to visit you.”

  Tyler leaves tomorrow. Today’s the only day he has left to visit Jaeger. They were tight growing up. I can’t in good conscience say no. “You should go, Tyler. You don’t need me there.”

  “He invited everyone, and his mom’s cooking her best dish. Just come, Cali. It’ll be fun. His parents and sister are great.”

  Saying no after that declaration might raise his suspicions. Maybe this will work out. “Okay. I had been trying to set Gen up with Jaeger anyway.”

  My stomach goes sour at the thought of Jaeger and Gen together. Now that Mason is a no-go after Gen rebuffed his kiss, Jaeger is the only person left on the list of prospects. I never should have starting that stupid list.

  I don’t want to rebound with Jaeger. I like him too much. Which is also why I’m not eager to set Gen up with him.

  Tyler squints. “You’re setting those two up? Really?”

  I glare. “What’s wrong with my best friend?”

  “Nothing. She’s fucking hot.”

  Sometimes it’s difficult to believe my brother is a role model to undergrads. He’s 100 percent adult when it comes to his students. I’m not even sure he notices the pretty girls who plant themselves in the front rows of his lectures. It’s like he shuts off his guy brain while at work. But get him home, and he’s as immature and horny as any twenty-three-year-old.

  Tyler’s mouth twists as if attempting to reach some deep philosophical conclusion, which for his analytical mind is probably a challenge. “It’s just … well, I guess I can’t see them together. They’re both reserved, you know? Aren’t opposites supposed to attract?”

  His assertion pleases me, and now I’m a terrible friend. But it makes me physically sick to consider Jaeger and Gen in a relationship. I’ve gotta scrap that idea.

  I had everything figured out—life, love. It turns out I suck at relationships and my plans for grad school might be my worst decision yet.

  “You might be right. Just don’t discourage anyone I try to set her up with. Gen’s had a rough few months and she’s only now coming out of it.”

  He holds up his hands. “I want nothing to do with this.” He points at me. “And you should mind your own business. Let Jaeger find his own woman. He doesn’t need you meddling.”

  But what if he chooses the wrong girl? And what if she gives in because she’s messed up in the head and on the rebound?

  Years ago, I visited Jaeger’s parents’ house when my mom asked me to run up and grab Tyler for a soccer game. I waited in the entry while Tyler changed into his uniform. As I recall, his parents were warm and friendly, with awesome Austrian accents. Jaeger and his sister have American accents, but they were born in the U.S., or moved here shortly after—I’m not entirely clear on the details.

  Tyler does the honors and knocks on the large, elaborately carved wooden door while Gen and I wait patiently beside him. I dip closer, taking in the subtle design. A landscape of mountains juts toward the sky, with streams and birds and all manner of wildlife. The door flies open and I flinch, my nose too close to the surface.

  Mrs. Lang ushers us inside and doesn’t appear surprised at the fact that I nearly fell into her home. She must be used to strangers gaping at her front door. She grabs my brother in a bear hug. “Tyler, so good to see you!” This actually comes out, Tylar-r, zo goot to see yu! with her Austrian accent. “And Cali, such a beautiful, grown-up woman.” She hugs me too.

  I introduce Jaeger’s mother to Gen and we enter the cavernous living room with its massive windows overlooking a breathtaking view of the lake. I vaguely remember the floor plan of the first level, but the furniture has been updated with plush leather couches, cream woven throw pillows, and blankets in Native American zigzag patterns.

  A beautiful girl with long blond hair rises from a barstool at the island separating the living room from the kitchen. “Tyler, Cali, you remember Jaeger’s sister, Kerstin?” Mrs. Lang asks.

  I don’t, but my brother does. He’s grinning like a boy with bag of candy. Beautiful blondes, beautiful brunettes—he’s pretty equal opportunity—beautiful being the main criterion.

  Behind Kerstin, on the other side of the island, Jaeger opens a sliding door, entering the room in front of a tall, handsome older man with light, wavy brown hair peppered with white.

  Deep in conversation, neither man notices us. Words like crushed granite, compaction, and interlocking pavers fly from their lips as they dust off their feet on a mat. Jaeger glances up, catches his sister standing, and scans the room. His gaze lands on me and his mouth twitches.

  He walks over to my brother and they greet each other with a manly, backslapping hug, the force of which would have knocked me over. Introductions are made between me and Gen and Mr. Lang, and all of a sudden I’m shy. That’s not like me. But this is the first time I’ve seen Jaeger since my breakup. The party doesn’t count, because he was so drunk I’m not even sure he remembers pulling me into the bedroom and falling asleep with me on top of him—a humiliation from which my ego will never recover.

  We chat for a bit and it’s not long before Jaeger’s mom announces dinner. She made beef stroganoff and we eat it family style around a large trestle table made of what looks like reclaimed wood planks. The food is delicious and Jaeger’s parents and Gen, of all people, keep the conversation going.

  Gen and I have flip-flopped. Tonight she’s the talkative one, while I’m quiet. Or maybe she can tell I’m uncomfortable and she is doing her best to make up for my conversational ineptitude.

  “What made you decide to move to the States?” Gen asks Mr. Lang.

  He dabs the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. “We own a family business that specializes in soft plastics. Two of our factories are located in California. I work from home, but travel often to the factories. We liked California and decided to move here when Jaeger was a baby so that I’d have more time with the family.”

  A plastics empire. Explains the enormous home on the lake. The timetable accounts for why neither Jaeger nor his sister has an Austrian accent.

  “Lake Tahoe provided an excellent training location for Jaeger when he was competing,” Mr. Lang continues. “My wife and I were very happy with our decision to move.”

  The dishes are soon whisked away and Jaeger’s parents disappear downstairs, while Gen, Tyler, Jaeger, Kerstin, and I sit around the table with a bottle of expensive wine. Mrs. Lang left a batch of apple strudel, which Tyler and Jaeger are inhaling.

  With his parents gone and Jaeger sitting across from me, I can’t help glancing over. He looks up at the same time I do and smiles. I return the smile. His brows crease together, eyes scanning my face.

  He stretches his arm across the table and tugs the sleeve at my wrist. “What’s wrong?”

  I plaster another smile on my face more fake than the last. I shake my head. I may be loud and outspoken, but it comes from genuine conviction. I’m no good at lying, even when my best interests are at stake.

  From the moment Jaeger walked into the room with his dad, electric zingers have been shooting through every cell in my body at strategic moments. During chance eye contact—Jaeger tugging my sleeve—it doesn’t take much. It’s like he’s the plug and my body is the electrical receptacle. And isn’t that a raunchy yet accurate analogy.

  I don’t want this. The timing is off. I’m not ready for anything serious. And for some reason, I get the sense that a casual hook-up with Jaeger would destroy me in a way the breakup with Eric didn’t.

  Jaeger continues to stare, the puzzled expression shifting to mild worry. I look down at th
e table, avoiding his eyes.

  “Remember when you tried to grow sideburns, Tyler?” Kerstin says. “All you managed were patchy blotches.” She beams and my brother frowns.

  I like this girl. Kerstin must have spent time with Jaeger and my brother in high school if she remembers Tyler’s facial hair misadventures.

  “He was so determined, he let them grow to his jawline,” Kerstin continues to regale Gen, “convinced that the added surface area would thicken his burns.” Kerstin snickers and I do too.

  That shit was funny as hell. Tyler looked like a patchy Chewbacca for a month. The best part is, Tyler’s facial hair grows bright red. But even that didn’t deter him.

  As funny as this conversation is, I can’t sit while I sense Jaeger’s knowing eyes on me. I rise and walk a few feet to the large windows overlooking the lake.

  Nothing corrupts the electric vibe between me and Jaeger tonight—not other relationships, not alcohol. What I’m feeling is pure and real. He’s even in tune with my conflicted emotions, and that can’t be good. The invitation to see if something could happen between us beckons, but I can’t give in to it. Jaeger is a temptation I’m not ready for.

  “What’s wrong with her?” my brother mumbles to Gen.

  Bugger, no! I swing around, but before I can send Gen the evil eye and warn her to keep her mouth shut, the new, more outgoing Gen speaks.

  “Her boyfriend broke up with her,” she says under her breath, though everyone hears. I can hear and I’m a few feet away. “How do you expect her to act?”

  “What?” Tyler says loudly, eyes flashing to me. “Is that true?”

  Kerstin sits straighter. She glances hesitantly at me. Gen has her mouth open, frozen in place, as if realizing her mistake.

  I instinctively glance at Jaeger, praying he wasn’t paying attention, but he’s holding a forkful of apple strudel near his mouth and staring at the table. His gaze slowly moves to mine and his eyes darken. He sets down the fork, jaw flexing.

  “Tyler,” I say quietly. “We’ll talk later.”

 

‹ Prev