“Well, Lanie says…” my mom continued, and told me what Lanie thought anyway, how she really believed that Bradley loved Zara.
Lanie could tell that theory to my ass, which hadn’t enjoyed being squeezed like a stress ball out on the balcony with Bradley’s family in the house behind us. “I hate him, and I don’t think he gives a shit about Zara,” I responded.
My mom started to make excuses, about Bradley’s difficult job, his terrible parents who hadn’t raised him right, etc., etc. This was the way that she’d been able to be friends with Juliette March, Lanie’s mom, for all these years. Juliette would do something thoughtless and rude, and my mom would ignore it. She was able to rationalize and justify almost every behavior under the sun. I had just enough insight to realize that this meant mine, as well.
I promised to myself that I would do better. I would be nicer, I would be a good daughter, and a good sister to Zara. This resolution came immediately before my mom invited me over for the upcoming long weekend, a party at her house. Despite my earlier promise to myself not to attend any more parties with my family, I gritted my teeth and said I would come.
“I’m so glad,” my mom said happily. “I thought you would try to beg off, with some work project or other.”
I did have “some work project or other,” which were currently piled on my desk and filling my inbox. “I have a lot to do. I need to hang up,” I said, then thought. “Is it ok with you if I bring someone to your party?”
I could almost feel her sit up straight. “Who?” she asked excitedly. “Do I know him?”
“Mother, no. Not a boyfriend, not a date. A houseguest. Is that all right?”
“Of course it’s all right to bring a friend,” she sighed. She had been dropping names, trying to hint me into my next boyfriend since Mats and I had broken off the engagement. That was how I had gotten into…just, no.
A while later, after discussing her party, the latest about some of her friends, and some remodeling she was having done to her backyard and pool—and after a lot of questions to me which I successfully evaded—I went back to work. I wondered what she would say when I brought Joey over, with his heart on his sleeve and staying with me so he could get medical treatment. She would probably try to adopt him.
At the end of the long day of groveling, fawning, and placating, I was very, very ready to leave my office. I had been dealing with sending out some samples for an editorial shoot that could have been very important for our brand, and for a B-list actress for a B-list awards show that was pretty pointless. But our company wasn’t big enough to turn down much, so I dealt with her “people” like they were representing the Queen of England, while stabbing a pen into my desk chair in my frustration. When the tip had broken off, there had been quite a mess of ink. I was finally ready to leave around eight and I decided to head over to my gym in the Marina.
Yeah, my gym was pretty far from where I worked, and not close to my apartment at all, but so what? I had joined it when I moved in with Mats, because it was where he belonged, and we went together. I wasn’t going to join somewhere else just because we had broken up and I had moved. It was good for him to see me, to wonder about what he was missing. And if he was too intimidated to go work out just because I might be there, then that was his problem, not mine. He could just man up.
As I usually did before going, I changed into the nicest workout clothes I owned—the most flattering—then carefully checked myself over in the three-way mirrors in our showroom. I looked closely at my face, thinking about Bradley and how looks seemed to fade as the ugliness inside grew. I thought I was the same: blue eyes and dark hair that made the contrast I’d always liked, full lips, the nose I’d never had to fix. I wasn’t wrinkling up or getting black, rotten teeth or anything like that. Not yet.
I didn’t see Mats when I arrived at the gym, so I got on a treadmill. I had seen him there twice before and both times I had walked around (pranced around) for a while so he could get an eyeful and have something to think about while he ran. He was a terrible runner. I hadn’t done cardio to get sweaty until he had left, stammering a goodbye as I casually stretched in ways that emphasized my breasts and butt. Mats had practically drooled on me—as much as he hadn’t cared about me, I knew he had liked my body.
I ran for a while now, as fast as I could make myself go. It felt good to push as hard as I could, to make my heart pound painfully in my chest, my muscles exhausted and achy, to have to hold on to the bars and suck in air with burning gasps. It was kind of cathartic, but more, I like I felt like I deserved it. I looked around the big room for something else I could do to punish my body, then wiped sweat from my forehead. I wasn’t done yet.
“Scarlett?”
I dropped the towel off my face. Fuck! “Hi, Mats. I forgot you came to this gym!” I pasted on the biggest, flashiest smile that I could.
“Well, my house is just down the street. We used to come here together…”
“Did we?” I hopped off the treadmill, still smiling. I patted the towel around the tops of my boobs and his eyes followed it. Look, but never touch again, Matty-boy.
“Scarlett, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…” He trailed off again. “I mean, I have something to say…”
“Yes?” I prompted impatiently. Had he always been such a wienie? I gestured for him to get on with it, circling my hand.
“I’ve been hoping that I would see you in person…” His expression told me that this statement was a lie. “My mom said…I mean, I thought you should hear it from me. I’m getting married. I got engaged.”
I put that smile right back on, so glad that my brother had already told me so I wasn’t hearing this for the first time now. “You got engaged, again? That’s great news.” This was clearly a clap-back at me for breaking us up. I also wondered what this woman’s parents did, what angle there was for his parents to get an advantage when Mats married her.
His tense face started to relax. I had always thought of him as handsome, but now, for some reason, his boyish features were just annoying. He looked stupidly young and very immature. “You really feel that way?” he asked me, with so much hope in his voice. “Thanks. Missy is just so wonderful.” He smiled, a dreamy little look that I’d spotted on my brother’s face when he talked about Lanie. I felt just the same way as when I’d seen it on Brooks: I wanted to smack that smile right off Mats’ face.
Who the hell was this Missy? Maybe this wasn’t something engineered by his parents or revenge on me. Maybe he really loved her.
“I hope someday, you’ll find someone, too,” he said, and patted my shoulder. “I was pretty worried. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to hearing about us.”
What had he just said? “Us?” No, Mats and I were “us.” Rather than taking his hand from my person and executing a judo throw that landed him breathless on the floor, I lowered my eyebrows, shrugged, and shook my head. “Really? I can’t imagine why you were worried! Why would I care, Mats? I mean,” I lowered my voice, “I don’t want to rub it in, but, of course, I did dump you.” I smiled, even larger. “Here’s hoping that two times is a charm and she doesn’t leave you like I did.” I put my arms over my head in a stretch, thrusting my chest out. “I really need to finish up here to get home to—never mind. See you later. Give Pissy my congratulations, too.”
I went to a bench, leaned over with my ass in the air, and did some triceps pulls. I secretly watched him in the mirror, watched him stare at me for a while before he left. Then I went and rowed until I was breathing so hard I could barely get in enough oxygen to live and my limbs were shaking with fatigue. I fell asleep on the couch after showering when I got home, but it didn’t last. I woke up gasping for air, just like I had been on the rowing machine.
∞
It took me a while before I realized that Pascale was in my office, and that she was talking to me.
“Your focus is incredible!” she told me, nodding like she was impressed.
Luckily, I had been stari
ng at my monitor, and open on it was a profile of a buyer from one of the most upscale retail sites online. I was supposed to be wooing her. It actually hadn’t been on my mind at all.
I looked up and smiled at Pascale. “Sorry, P! I really want this one for us. I can’t stop thinking about it. What were you saying?” She repeated herself, and I forced my ears to listen.
After she finally left my office, I went back to staring blankly at my screen. I had gotten next to nothing accomplished besides tracking down every bit of information I could on Mats’ new fiancée: her address, phone numbers, place of work, high school, college, sorority, car, hobbies, trips, favorite foods, friends, etc. It was all plastered everywhere online for all the world to see. The woman didn’t seem to know how to set her accounts to private, or maybe she liked attention.
When I wasn’t doing that, I was obsessively checking the status of Mauna Loa Airlines flight number 714. It was just about to take off and was scheduled to land at 8:09 PM, but not if the unusual headwind I was reading about kept up. I looked at the phone in my lap, the screen that Pascale wasn’t able to see when she looked through the glass wall of my office. I was fighting an internal battle over whether I wanted the headwind or hated the headwind. Whether I wanted to see Nate, or I didn’t. Whether I was still humiliated, or I no longer cared that I had thrown myself on him and he had…
I turned off the phone and got back to work. But instead of going to the gym or a class or even for a run when I left early at seven that evening, I went grocery shopping, which I hadn’t done for a while. It felt weird to be in a such a large space with practically nothing but food. I walked up and down the aisles, a little lost, before I started to put things in my cart.
When I got home that night, the apartment was spotless. The cleaning lady had come in that morning and she was a maniac. I carefully put away the food and drinks I had bought in the little kitchen, suddenly realizing that I should have also gotten more dishes, more glasses, maybe some pots. Or pans. I had left all those things for my brother when he rented my house and I had moved out, because Mats already had them. Probably Mats’ new fiancée was actually cooking with them, or something. I sat down to think on the one barstool I had acquired, purchased so that I had somewhere to check in on my phone and laptop while I had a cup of coffee before I left for work.
The cup which I bought every morning on my way back from working out, because I didn’t even have a coffee pot. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! I needed more stuff. I checked the time on my phone, because I also realized I had never set the clocks on the stove or microwave. It was too late to go shopping.
There was only time to primp. I did that, making sure that I looked fabulous. In Hawaii, Nate had seen me at my worst: burned to a crisp, sweaty and sick, no makeup, hair a wreck. Naked. He had seen me naked. I breathed out hard through my nose so the shame of it would pass. Well, fine, he had seen me before at my worst, but now he would see me at my best. I worked on myself for a while then checked carefully in the mirror one more time and nodded. Thank the fucking Lord that eyes weren’t really the windows of the soul, because mine currently looked flawless, as did the rest of my face and hair. I turned and looked at myself from the back. As did my outfit, my nails, my jewelry. I was going to make him eat his heart out.
The doorbell rang and my own heart stopped in my chest. I breathed out hard again, walked slowly to the door, and opened it.
There was a medium-sized black dog, wearing a cloth vest, sitting there next to a giant duffle bag. “What the hell?” I asked the dog, who just looked at me.
“Scarlett? Hey, Scarlett?” a voice called from down the hall. I stepped out, past the silent dog, and found Joey coming toward me, dragging another huge suitcase on wheels.
“What the hell,” I muttered again, and hurried down the hall to take it from him.
He surprised me by grabbing me in a big hug. “Wow, Scarlett, I don’t know how to thank you. Thank you for letting me stay here!”
My face was smashed into his shoulder and I disengaged. “You’re welcome. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah, it is. You only knew me one night, and I was drunk off my ass for most of it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to drink like that again.”
Then what were we going to do with all the beer I had just bought?
“I’m almost a perfect stranger to you and you’re opening up your house to me!” Joey continued, and hugged me again.
Yes, it did sound incredibly stupid. I managed to wrest the bag handle from him and tugged it down the hall. “Is this your dog?” I pointed to the animal blocking the door, but she obediently moved when we got close.
“This is Pia,” he said affectionately. “She’s my best girl. She knows what to do to help me when I have seizures. That’s why I’m here, Nate told you, right? To get help with them?”
The dog trailed after us into my apartment. She did seem very well-behaved, but I eyed her warily.
I nodded at Joey. “He did tell me that. Uh, where is he?”
“He left when I got in the elevator. I’m going to meet up with him tomorrow.” Joey got another huge smile. “Shit, Scarlett, you’re vying with Pia to take the best girl title. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”
I couldn’t, either. I couldn’t believe how oddly nice it felt for Joey to say that about the best girl, and how desperate and pathetic I had to be to take it as a compliment. I couldn’t believe that Nate wasn’t there, that I was letting a stranger move in, and that I was in competition with a dog.
Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.
Chapter 5
Focus. Focus. Focus.
I made an angry noise, a cross between a “humph” and a squeak. For the second day in a row, I wasn’t getting anything done at work. My mind was not in the building but I couldn’t exactly place where my thoughts were flitting off to. I was just unfocused and useless today.
I had been up and gone before Joey bestirred himself in the master bedroom, and I assumed Pia the dog was with him. The night before, he had been horrified when I said that I was giving him “my” bedroom and we’d argued a little before I dragged his big bags into the room and ditched them, telling him to sleep there or get out. He had slept there.
Joey was just so damn appreciative, making such a big deal of everything. Like I showed him how to use the remote, and he was grateful. I said to use anything, eat anything in the kitchen, and he was grateful. I told him where my cleaning lady put extra toilet paper, and he was grateful! Whatever. There was no need for it, and why was my brain darting to that instead of directing itself to the work in front of me? I was getting nothing done.
At the time that most people (those not in the fashion industry) were eating lunch and consuming actual calories, I went housewares shopping at Union Square. It was unusually hot for May in the city and the pavement was teeming with wilting tourists, all of whom had apparently read (and taken to heart) the fake Mark Twain quote about the coldest winter being the summer in San Francisco. I pushed past them all because I was on a mission, and I bought and bought, and then bought more. I had everything delivered to my building, giving out the door code so the delivery guys could get in (which probably my neighbors wouldn’t have appreciated). Then I went back to work and made myself get some things done just so I could feel like I’d accomplished something I before went home. I left early again, which could have easily become a bad habit.
I stared around the lobby of my apartment building when I walked in. Mother fucker. It was full of boxes and bags, all of them marked with my name. At least no one had stolen them, but why the hell hadn’t the delivery people brought them up to my apartment? I carried package after package to the elevator. Apparently air conditioning was not a thing in the building lobby, and combining the heavy lifting with the heat and my high heels, I was a sweaty mess by the time I got it all to my front door. There was my cardio for the day.
Pia greeted me when I opened it. “Hello, dog,” I told her, eyeing her as s
he wagged her tail. She didn’t seem to bark much, which I appreciated, and she moved over, still watching me too, so I could start dragging everything inside.
“Hey, Scarlett!” Joey called. “What is all that? I can help.”
I straightened up. “No, I have…” Nate. Nate was there, in my bare living room. Just for a moment, it felt like when my brother had hit me in the solar plexus by mistake when we were kids and I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I stared at him, thinking immediately of the last time I had seen him, just before I shut the door in his face at my grandmother’s house on the Big Island, just after I had kissed him. I remembered his expression: pity.
I didn’t want to see that, ever again, which was why it really, really sucked that I was not the perfect, polished woman of the night before. Now I was a dripping, red-faced mess who had been swearing like a sailor, sporting two freshly-broken nails. “Nate,” I said. “Hello.”
“Scarlett,” he greeted me. Then he went out and started carrying everything in, arm muscles rippling. “Where do you want all this?”
I was busy patting the sweat off my forehead with my silk blouse. “Kitchen,” I said shortly. “I got some more things for the house,” I explained to Joey.
“Did you just move in here?” he asked.
“No. Um, I don’t spend a lot of time here.” That was true, since mostly I was at work. While Nate brought in yet another carton of crap, I rushed into the guest bedroom and tried to fix my face as best I could. Shit! It was not good. And my blouse had a smear of makeup where I had wiped my forehead on it, as well as sweat stains. I changed and messed with my hair and makeup. And sniffed my pits and did some corrective work there.
Joey and Nate were unpacking my purchases when I came back out. “Is this ok?” Nate asked, gesturing at what they were doing.
“Sure,” I told them, and took one of my old glasses to get some water. Maybe it was the heat or the exertion, but I was parched. I looked at Nate’s arms as he broke down a box. Maybe it was something else.
Lovely You Page 7
