by Carina Adams
Livie nodded her agreement. “That’s true. It gets to be fun.”
“Speaking of, do you have a gig this weekend?”
“Yeah.” She shook three sugar packets and then ripped them open, emptying them into her latte. “After class, I’m going to spend an hour or two with Frankie, then I’m headed in.”
I played with the lid on my cup. I hated that she traveled to Boston for work. “Why don’t you come back to Soiree?”
Dark brown eyes bugged out of their sockets and the rest of her face contorted with horror. “What? Why would I do that?”
If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have laughed at her reaction. “So you don’t have to travel all the time, can spend more time with your girlfriend, and work with people you like.”
She didn’t even consider it. “No. That ship has sailed.”
“You say that, but you can always come back. Everyone there would welcome you with open arms.”
“Where is this coming from?” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Did Roman say something?”
“No.” I avoided her gaze. “I wanted to talk to you about it before I mentioned it to him. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up that he was getting you back.”
Rome would never talk with me about business. We weren’t friends. In fact, I was back to hating everything about the miserable son of a bitch.
The worst thing was that I never knew what to expect. He was hot and cold with me. One day he’d laugh and tease, the next he was a jerk. He’d been so bad over the last two days I’d gotten fed up earlier and told him to shove his attitude up his ass.
I wasn’t sure what had caused his almost cheery attitude to disappear, but the nice boss I’d left Wednesday afternoon had vanished without a trace, leaving a rude and unappeasable prick in his place. Reid had come to take over and give Roman a break the day before, but Roman had yelled about me having too many distractions and kicked everyone out of the studio. Maybe the funny and kind Roman had been a fluke.
Or maybe he was mentally unhinged and needed therapy or medication.
“What’s going on?” Liv asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. I hate that you have to travel so much.”
“That’s it?”
I rolled my eyes. “Roman brings out the worst in me. I can’t help it. When he gets into one of his moods, I get so angry I can’t think straight. He’s different when you’re around. He likes you.”
She snorted. “Roman only likes me when it’s convenient. You guys have been together every day for almost a week. You’re probably just getting under each other’s skin. He’s much harder to tolerate when you’re tired. And, you’re so exhausted you’re probably making stupid mistakes, and that grates on him. Give it some time.”
“See? This is why you need to come back. You understand him. You’re like the Roman whisperer.”
She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. “I’m not coming back,” she lifted her cup. “Can you take the afternoon off? Maybe skip class and go sleep?”
“Shit!” I glanced at my phone. I’d gotten so distracted by our conversation, I’d forgotten we’d met to chat about school. “We’ve got to go.”
Live nodded and slid out from the table. “At least we don’t have to stress about seats now.”
I stood and lifted my bag over my shoulder. That was the one plus about this class. “You never told me what was going on with you and Brooke.”
Liv shifted, clearly uncomfortable. I hadn’t seen her much all week and other than a few texts to plan our before class coffee date, hadn’t talked to her since we’d left class Wednesday. I’d been so engrossed in school and work, and thrown off by Roman’s shitty behavior, I’d forgotten about Brooke and her obvious problem with Liv.
“Later,” she promised as we walked toward the Business Hall. “Did you look at the syllabus? It’s insane.”
I let her change the subject but made a mental note to make her tell me right after class. Until I knew what their history was, my imagination would continue to run wild. Maybe they were ex-lovers, although Brooke wasn’t the kind of girl Livie seemed attracted to. Maybe they’d been best friends all through childhood, like me and Frankie, but they’d had a stupid fight and were both too stubborn to say they were sorry.
Brooke was already in her seat, wearing a really cute sundress and heels, her hair perfectly styled. Maybe they’d roomed together freshman year and had clashed because they were so similar. They both dressed like they were always prepared for the year book staff to appear and start snapping candid’s.
I greeted her warmly as I sat down. She hesitated, then sent a polite smile back. It didn’t reach her eyes, but I’d take it.
Before I could ask how she was, she leaned toward me.
“How do you know Liv?”
The question took me by surprise.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was rude. You don’t have to answer. You just don’t seem like someone who would be friends with her.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “That sounded really bitchy, too. I’m just going to stop now.”
I hesitated as I tried to figure out what to say. Honesty won. “No offense taken. Actually, we weren’t friends until she started dating my best friend. Somewhere along the way, we got close, too.”
Brooke watched me closely. “Frankie Carmichael?” I could hear the surprise in her voice.
I nodded, amused by the typical reaction. “Yep. Been my best friend since we were little.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t tell if Brooke looked surprised or impressed.
Frankie was one of UCM’s star basketball players, a humanities major, and still as much my polar opposite as she’d been when we were five. People were always surprised when they found out we were friends because on paper we had nothing in common. Looks could be deceiving.
I pulled out my new MacBook, courtesy of my latest paycheck, and slid it onto the table while my thoughts ran away. Maybe I’d gotten it all wrong. It was possible Brooke’s feelings toward Livie had nothing to do with Liv and everything to do with whom she was dating. It was also possible that Brooke was jealous.
“Do you play basketball, too?” I asked, hoping I sounded casual.
Brooke laughed. “No. I’m a double-major and Chi O. I’m too busy for anything else. We’ve had a few classes together, though.”
Not the answer I’d hoped for. I ran my tongue over my teeth as I searched for another connection.
Max greeted the class before I had a chance to ask any more questions. I only half listened as he started his lecture as I attempted to piece together the mystery that was Brooke and Livie. As if she knew I was lost in a daydream, Brooke reached over and closed my laptop. I glanced at her, confused but she smiled and tipped her head toward the front of the room, as if telling me to pay attention.
Max had started to outline our first assignment. With just our partner, not our entire team, we needed to create a fake firm and then draft a business opportunity and solution for said firm. Each of us would present one part of it to the class. My shoulders sank at the amount of work it would require. The entire class groaned when he told us we’d need to present the following Friday.
As soon as he was done, Brooke turned to me. “There goes our weekend plans. I hope you didn’t have anything overly exciting.”
I swallowed and tried not to panic. “I have to work. Any chance we can meet on Sunday?”
“That stinks,” she closed her laptop. “Where do you work?”
I knew I was being paranoid, yet it felt like the words “Burlesque Dancer” were written on my face in black Sharpie. I wasn’t ashamed of my job. It was hard, both physically and mentally. Yet that didn’t mean I wanted anyone at UCM to know what I really did on the weekends. There was no way she could possibly have guessed, so I pushed the thoughts away.
“I do the bookkeeping for a friend’s small business.” The lie rolled off my tongue. It was the cover story I’d planned in case anyone in my family started to question where
I was getting cash, but I hadn’t used it yet. “It’s not incredibly interesting but it’s good money.”
“Cool. I mean, if you like numbers. I can’t even keep track of my bank account.”
I shrugged and held up a hand ruefully, feeling like I was doing intro night at AA. “I’m Cady and I’m an accounting major.”
“Hi, Cady.” She chuckled, getting my joke. “Then that is the perfect for you.” She looked at her phone. “I can do Sunday afternoon, if that works?”
We made plans to meet at the library and exchanged phone numbers. The girls she’d been sitting with on Wednesday called her name and she held up a finger in their direction. She turned back to me and smiled. “Have a great weekend.” Then she hurried away.
“You two were awfully chatty,” Livie muttered, her tone odd, as she stopped next to me.
I lifted an eyebrow in her direction as I packed up my stuff. “Spill. Why don’t you like each other?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Liv rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised. Looked like you’re practically besties already.”
Her bitterness was a shock. There could only be one reason she felt that much contempt toward someone. “She’s the girl Frankie dated before you guys hooked up, isn’t she?”
The sneer fell from her face. “Seriously? You think Francesca would be attracted to her?” She scoffed. “Please.” Her eyes narrowed on the group as they hurried away. “She’s way too fat to wear a dress like that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “At least her body isn’t as ugly as her face. Poor thing has to do whatever she can to draw attention away from that mess.”
“Wow,” I didn’t hide the shock on my face as I tried to figure out where my sweet friend had gone. “That’s savage.”
Liv shrugged as if she hadn’t just released the demon inside her. “No, it’s the truth. Look at her ass. It’s so big she could make a fortune selling shade.”
I tried to force my irritation down. I’d just met Brooke; I didn’t owe her my loyalty. However, I’d never been able to let people fight their battles alone because I’d been there and it was a lonely place.
Livie was my friend. I still didn’t know what the problem was between them, but there was no reason for an attack that vicious. Yet, it was so out of character for her, unlike anything I’d heard her say, I couldn’t hold my tongue.
“Seriously?” I set my bag back on the table with a loud thump. “Why do you hate her so much?”
She pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and shook her head.
“Fine, don’t tell me. But unless you give me an explanation, all I know is what I’ve seen. Brooke isn’t only smart, she seems like she has it all together, and she’s been nice to me.” I lifted my bag, ready to get away from her. “I can’t believe you’d say that about anyone, especially not another woman. When did you start picking girls apart because of how they look? If you’d say that crap about her, what would you say about me or Frankie if you got mad?” I shook my head. “And you wonder why I struggle with letting people in.” I squeezed past her and hurried down the row, my steps angry.
Livie swore and called my name. I didn’t stop. I had to get away from her before one of us said something we could never take back.
“What’s going on with you?” The question was spoken so quietly I barely heard it over the laughter coming from the backseat.
I didn’t move from my spot against the window. “Nothing,” I whispered back.
Since the show was a little over three hours away, we'd met at Soiree. Roman and Reid had taken our bags and packed all our gear into Rome’s SUV while Violet and I gotten last minute costume and makeup instructions from Randy, then we’d piled in and started our journey south. When I’d started to slide into the back next to Violet, Rome had grabbed my arm and pulled me to the front.
Apparently, part of my job included riding shotgun. I wasn’t in the mood to chat. If that’s what he wanted, Reid should have traded places with me.
I attempted to eavesdrop on the conversation going on behind me as I watched the trees fly by, but my thoughts kept drifting to class and the insults Liv had thrown at Brooke. I had taken them entirely too personally. I knew that.
I was stuck in a self-loathing state. It was pointless, because being mean to myself wouldn’t help anything. Livie’s words from the day before had struck a nerve and felt like knives in my heart. I was everything she’d accused Brooke of being. No matter how hard I tried to force it away, the nagging feeling of worthlessness clung.
Roman tugged on a piece of my hair. I didn’t react. I simply couldn’t shake my melancholy.
“Hey,” he probed quietly when I ignored him. “Pssst.”
I turned to him, sure he wouldn’t stop until I paid attention.
"Classes going well?"
I shrugged. I didn’t have a great answer. I felt like I was drowning in school work. No senior wanted to admit that after their first week.
“You don’t have to be nervous. You’re ready. You know your dances.”
Of course he’d think it was nerves.
“And you don't have to worry," I mumbled with a bite in my tone. "I’ll be fine by the time I go on stage." I turned back to the window, hoping he’d shut up and leave me the hell alone.
“I’m not worried about the show."
I snorted. That would be a first. Roman always worried about the performance.
“Ruffles.”
I twisted around, ready to tell him I wasn't nervous, and ask why he was being overly attentive, but the argument died on my lips as realization sunk in. Maybe I was. It could be anxiety over my routines coming out as a general self-hatred.
I snapped my mouth shut.
“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I gave him a snide smile.
“Fine,” he mocked. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”
“Are you high?” I demanded, not caring how rude it was.
“No,” he chuckled. “I’m beginning to think it might be a requirement to deal with your moodiness, though.”
“Moody? You think I’m moody?” I snapped back, my voice growing louder with each word. “Being around you is like spending time with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Only there’s no magic potion and you never try to suppress your monster.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve read it,” he mused. “Remind me, is there a woman who infuriates poor Dr. Jekyll so much that Mr. Hyde feels he need to take control just to get her in line?”
I groaned, too annoyed to speak.
“I start out each day as Bruce Banner. And then, after time with you, I turn in to a giant, green, angry beast. Coincidence?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You did not just blame your random temper tantrums and mood swings on me.”
“Not at all. I simply pointed out the correlation between the two is far too great to ignore.”
“You are the single most infuriating person I have ever met.”
He smirked. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Dick.” I growled.
“Brat.”
“Why don’t we listen to music?” Violet suggested, cutting off the next retort.
Feeling like an idiot because I’d forgotten we weren’t alone, I turned to offer my friends an apologetic smile. Violet stared wide eyed, mouth slightly open, as her pupils darted back and forth between Rome and me. Reid, on the other hand, had crossed his arms over his chest, a perplexed look aimed at our driver.
I spun back around and cleared my throat.
An uncomfortable silence settled around us.
"Maybe we should have taken two cars. I don’t like being mean to you when other people are around. It makes me look bad." It was a lame attempt at a joke, but I wanted to clear the air.
The bastard was the only one who laughed. "Next time."
He lifted his chin toward the radio. "Connect your phone and pick something to distract you."
&n
bsp; I hesitated, not sure if he was really asking me to DJ the road trip. That could be a tricky job and I didn’t feel up to the challenge.
"Wait, what?" Violet shouted, leaning forward between the two front seats, interrupting us. "You never let anyone touch your radio."
My eyes darted between the two of them, confused.
“There are three rules when you ride in Roman’s car,” Violet explained. “One,” she held up her index finger, “no Top Forty. Two,” she held up her middle finger, “no routine songs. And three,” she held up another finger, “only Roman touches the radio.”
“Not true,” Rome mouthed to me.
Violet smacked him in the shoulder. “It is true. Everyone knows the rules.”
He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Just no Top Forty shit, okay?"
I hesitated. When he popped an eyebrow, I sighed and pulled my phone from my purse. Finding a classic rock station, I pressed play and settled back into my seat.
We were quiet for a few songs. If Reid and Vi were chatting again, I couldn't hear them.
Then, Reid gripped my seat and leaned forward. "Turn that up!"
Roman had beat him to it, already cranking the volume as loud as it would go.
In seconds, the three of them were screaming along with Led Zeppelin as the “Immigrant Song” boomed. Not only did they sing, they danced. I wasn't sure whether I should laugh or record them, so I sat still and enjoyed the show. Reid gave the best air drum performance I’d ever seen, Roman head banged and threw one hand in the air, rocking out while he somehow managed to keep us on the road and in the right lane, and Violet shook her ass in an epic chair dance as if her life depended on it.
When it was over, Rome turned the volume back down to a normal level and Violet sat back as if nothing had happened.
I waited a heart beat, ignoring the AC/DC song that started next.
"What was that?"
Roman gave me a side eyed smirk. "Our favorite song.”
“The best song ever recorded," Reid clarified, leaning forward and holding my seat once again. “Come on, Ruffles. Don’t tell me you don't like Zeppelin. It will break my heart."
