I stand up, stretching. “Get it together, jackass. I told you nothing happened.”
He tilts his head, staring at me as if he doesn’t believe me. “My left testicle nothing happened! You don’t even sleep with girls you sleep with.”
Looks like he found his voice. Wonderful.
“We fell asleep watching TV. There’s nothing going on between us,” I assure him. Why does that sound like a lie when I say it? I shake the feeling off.
“You’re trying to tell me the two of you are just friends? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“Have I ever lied to you about women before?”
“Well, no. But—”
“But nothing. Am I not allowed to have friends outside of you and Steph?”
As soon as I mention Steph’s name, Trevor’s face crumbles. He sinks onto the foot of my bed, running his hands through his hair.
I sigh. “What happened last night?”
“She left me,” he says simply. The pain in his voice is palpable.
“Why?”
“She told me she deserves more.” His shoulders slump. “And she probably does.”
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says softly. “Because I can’t give her what she wants. It’s better this way.”
“What does she want, Trev?”
He shakes his head, swallowing. When he doesn’t answer me, I get up from the bed. “Let’s go for a run.”
“You know I don’t like to run.”
“Come on, it’ll make you feel better.”
He groans. “Wallowing in self-pity sounds like a much better way to pass the time.”
I grab his arm, yanking him off the bed. “Go get your running shoes. You’re going with me, even if I have to drag your ass down the beach.”
He doesn’t look happy about it, but he finally agrees. “Fine,” he grumbles, leaving the room.
Once we’re both ready, I grab Batman’s leash, and we head out onto the beach. It isn’t long before Trevor is panting, lagging behind. He’s never been much of a runner, but it’s also really hot out today.
“Speed it up,” I call behind me. “Sweat out your frustration.”
“I know this works for you,” he huffs angrily, “but it’s just making me more miserable.”
“You’ll feel better when you’re done.”
I glance back to catch him rolling his eyes. We run for about fifteen minutes before Trevor calls it a quits. “I’m done with this shit, Max. I’m heading back.”
I turn back without argument, walking alongside him. “Ready to tell me what happened?”
Trevor shrugs, staring out into the ocean as he walks. “She wants more. Marriage, kids, family—the whole shebang.”
I nod, understanding exactly what that means for him. Most people equate marriage with love and a wedding celebration. In our family, we connect those things to bloodshed and tragedy. Because it affected me so much, sometimes I forget Trevor lost people too. He didn’t know my parents well, his aunt and uncle, but he watched me go through the pain of losing them. And we both lost our grandparents. It’s one of the reasons he agreed to help me when I started the Gritty Voice. Back then, he wanted answers just as much as I did.
“You told her you don’t want those things,” I say, thinking of the way she reacted last night.
“Pretty much,” he says in a low voice. “Can you imagine it? Me and Steph getting married. Pshh. Yeah, fucking right.”
“And she flipped?”
He nods. “She flipped.”
It all makes sense. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this has more to do with Trevor’s issues than it does with mine, but I can’t help but feel responsible. Like I’ve dragged him into my own personal hell and forced him to share it with me.
“I’ve been thinking about the two of you,” I say, taking a deep breath. “And how when I started writing the blog, you both were right beside me. Without you and Steph, it would’ve never become what it did.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Trevor asks, looking at me.
“I want to give you and Steph equal shares. You guys should have just as much ownership as I do.”
“Where is this coming from, Max? We didn’t put a dime into the Gritty Voice.”
“Yeah, but you both helped build it.”
He squints, staring at me skeptically. “I smell conditions.”
“Someone has to start working at the office—”
“Forget it.”
“This isn’t a request, Trev,” I tell him seriously. “I want you to move out. Give Steph what she wants. You know you can’t make it without her.”
He clenches his jaw. “No.”
I sigh, sensing he’s going to fight me on this. “You don’t have any choice. Think of it as an eviction. I’m kicking you out.”
He glares at me, eyes flashing. “Did you ever stop to think about whether or not I want any of the things you’re proposing?”
“Then what do you want? Because you stopped wanting to find Garcia a long fucking time ago.”
“Finding Garcia is a suicide mission. The man doesn’t want to be found, but that’s beside the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is I don’t want to settle down with Steph. I’m not ready.”
I shake my head, knowing he’s using that as an excuse. “The real reason you’re not ready is because you’re too busy babysitting me. That has to end.”
“You don’t understand, Max. My parents made me promise…” He swallows, unable to finish the sentence. “It can’t all be for nothing.”
I pat him on the back. “They shouldn’t have put that kind of pressure on you.”
“Stop looking for Garcia,” he pleads with me. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You know I can’t.”
His whole face tightens. “Then you better get that eviction notice served from a judge.”
TWENTY-TWO
Char
Today when I wake up, it’s on time and in my own bed. After making it to work yesterday at nine on the dot, breathless from racing through the parking lot, I swore I’d take my new job more seriously. Even though Max said he would cover for me, I couldn’t let him. If I’m going to prove myself at his company, I have to do it on my own terms.
I change quickly, heading downstairs to go for my morning run, hoping to see Max on the beach. Things have been easier between us since we’ve decided to be friends. Although I still catch myself wanting more, I’m okay with keeping things the way they are. It surprises me though—that I still could want more. After seeing him with Taylor, I don’t know how that’s possible. Maybe because in all other aspects, he’s amazing. Lately I’ve been feeling less like I’m away and more like I’m at home, and I know Max is the biggest reason for that. I just have to accept that we’re better off as friends.
I head into the kitchen to fill my water bottle, stopping short at the scene before me. My eyes widen. Trevor is sitting on one of the barstools propped behind the kitchen island. He’s wearing a stained blue T-shirt, and his hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week. One of the ice cream cartons I bought for Max sits in front of him next to various bottles of liquor, including Irish cream, Kahlua, and vodka. He pours the Irish cream straight into the carton of ice cream, and then pours more into a tall glass sitting beside it.
Usually I try to avoid Trevor, but this is something I can’t help commenting on. “Interesting combination you got there, buddy. Have you been up all night?”
“That depends,” he answers flatly. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“You’ll have to be a little more specific.” He twists the lid back on the bottle of Irish cream.
The sun is visible from the window over the breakfast nook, but he seems oblivious to that fact. I clear my throat. “Seven in the morning.”
“Then, yes. I’ve been awake all nigh
t.” He takes a heaping bite of his ice cream covered in Irish cream, downing it with his cocktail of other liquors.
It hurts to look at him. The obnoxious jerk that slammed the door in my face is fading away, and I begin to see a little of myself in Trevor.
I sit down across from him. “You know, I just recently went through a breakup—”
“Stop right there,” he says, pointing his spoon at me. “You’re not about to give me your sob story turned happy ending bullshit are you? Because I could really do without the motivational pep talks.”
I shake my head. “No pep talks.”
He considers this. “Then you may proceed.”
“I wish I’d thought of adding Kahlua to my ice cream during that phase of my breakup. That’s all I was going to say.”
One corner of his mouth curves into a half smile. “Kills two birds, know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“You know something? I think I may like you after all, Charlotte Hart.” He pronounces each syllable of my name as if he’s learning it for the first time.
I get up, going to the fridge to fill my water bottle.
“Wanna know something else?” He asks me while licking his spoon. “You look like Elsa.”
“Who?”
“Elsa. The ice queen chick from that kid’s movie.” He nods. “Yep. Just like her.”
“You’re a funny drunk, Trevor.”
“Come on. Tell me to let it go.” He’s cracking up at himself now, and I’m wondering if maybe I should call Max in for reinforcement. Someone needs to put Trevor to bed before he gives himself alcohol poisoning.
“Stephanie told me she thought you were the one,” he says contemplatively.
I continue holding my water bottle under the spout. “What do you mean?”
“She thinks Max has feelings for you, or whatever, and she thinks you will be the one to save him.”
“Save him?” I attempt to laugh that comment off even though it makes my chest constrict. “I can barely save myself let alone anyone else.”
He shrugs. “Steph was always too damn optimistic anyway.”
I place the cap back on my bottle and tighten it into place. “Doesn’t sound like such a bad thing. Being too optimistic, I mean.”
He looks up at me. His eyes are red rimmed and glassy. “Yeah, but that’s how people end up disappointed. They become victims of their own optimism.”
I’m suddenly feeling like we’re talking about everything and nothing. It’s deep and meaningless at the same time.
I let out a small sigh. “Trevor. I think you need some sleep.”
“You’re right, but I don’t feel like sleeping.”
I look around the room, trying to think of how to convince him. “Well, then how about you rest on the sofa and watch some mindless TV?”
He’s silent for a second. “Okay.”
After helping him make his way to the sofa without falling, I hand him the remote and a blanket. He stares blankly at the screen, switching through the channels. I don’t think it will be long before he’s out.
When I turn around, Max is making his way down the stairs with Batman. He stops at the bottom, his eyes darting to Trevor. “Everything okay?” he mouths.
“Fine,” I whisper back. “You going for a run?”
He nods.
“Mind if I tag along?”
He grins. “If you think you can keep up.”
I press my lips together, knowing it’s still killing him that I beat him in Mario Kart. Lucky for him, I’m not that strong of a runner. It’s not long before he realizes this as well.
“Seriously?” he says, running backwards. “Even Batman thinks you’re too slow.”
I try to look unphased. “We all have our strengths.”
He stops so I’m able to catch up, and then he starts running circles around me. Literally.
Asshole.
“Will you cut it out? You’re knocking dirt into my shoes.”
“Can’t help it. This is too much fun.”
I stick my foot out, tripping him in the process. “Sorry. Couldn’t help that.”
He laughs, jumps right back up, and then dusts the sand off his knees. “You’re a sore loser, kid.”
“Yeah, well you’re a hypocrite.”
He’s running beside me now, staying at my pace. “So what was going on with Trev?”
“Let’s just say he’s had a full night of ice cream and alcohol.”
“He was drunk?”
“Yeah. He didn’t want to go to sleep, so I convinced him to watch TV.” I look over at Max, meeting his worried gaze.
“He’ll figure it out.”
We run for a while longer without speaking. It’s quiet except for the waves hissing at the shoreline and the salty breezes sweeping past us. This area of the beach feels closed off from the rest of the world. There are no condominiums, no hotels or buildings, just a beautiful stretch of empty beach separated by a few houses and shrubbery.
Max never quickens his pace. He stays at my side the entire time. It isn’t until we’re on our way back to the house before he says anything. “So…it’s Thursday.”
I hide my grin, knowing exactly where he’s going with that. “Yes, it is.”
“Are you still planning to go on your date with Briggs?”
“Thanks for reminding me, and yes, I am. We’re leaving straight from work.”
He still doesn’t know it’s a group outing.
I still don’t plan on telling him.
“Wouldn’t you rather watch Game of Thrones instead? You can’t leave me hanging after that last episode.”
“Sorry, but we’ll have to catch up later.”
His face sours at that. “Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to get involved with your boss?”
“I don’t know.” I slice into him with a sharp glare. “Was it a bad idea to get involved with your receptionist?”
“Completely different scenario. Once Briggs gets what he wants, he’ll cut you loose, and it’ll create tension in the workplace—my workplace. Can’t have that kinda thing happening. It’s not good for business.”
What?
He can’t have it happening?
You know what; I don’t care what he says.
Every word that comes out of his condescending mouth is music to my ears. It smacks of jealousy, and if he’s jealous, that means he’s getting a taste of how I felt the night I found him with Taylor. It also means he can stuff his ideas of friendship down the trash, because clearly the guy doesn’t recognize his own feelings. He said kissing me was a bad idea. Well, I’m going to make damn sure that not kissing me turns out to be an even worse one.
“Not good for business, huh?” I give him my best, cheekiest smile. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m only in it for the sex.”
His expression is priceless.
TWENTY-THREE
Max
“Good God, there’s a boy inside!”
I open my eyes. There’s a man in a suit standing in the light of the doorway. I don’t know who he is or what he’s doing. The last thing I remember is my mom telling me to stay inside of this closet with Fiona.
“Fee,” I call out, trying to move my head.
My whole body hurts. I feel heavy, like I can’t pick myself up.
“Are you all right, son?” the man asks, leaning over me. “Jensen, his head is bleeding! Get the paramedics in here!”
“Where’s Fiona?” I say, trying to sit up. “Where’s my sister?”
“Just stay still. You’re safe now.”
Safe?
If I’m safe, then where are my parents? They would be here. They wouldn’t leave me alone with strangers.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Max,” I answer, taking a deep breath.
“Max, I’m Detective Paul. Just try and relax for the moment. We’re going to put you on a bed with wheels so the doctors can take a good look at you. Everything’s
going to be okay.”
I do as the man says, but I don’t believe him. When he said everything was going to be okay, his face looked pale, sick. He’s whispering now to someone else. I listen closely, trying to hear what he’s saying.
“Jesus, Jensen…he’s wearing a tux. I think he’s their son.”
***
“What are you doing out here?” Trevor asks me, closing the patio door behind him. He yawns and stretches, then slides the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. After lighting one up, he says, “Still working?”
“Trying to.”
I’ve been sitting out here for four hours now, laptop in front of me, trying to feed off the peaceful energy of the beach. Except it’s not fucking working. The sun is setting, and all I can think about is that Charlotte is out with Briggs.
Jason fucking Briggs.
I shake my head, wishing I’d seen that one coming. I should’ve implemented a no-fraternizing policy a long time ago. Then again, I would’ve been the first one to break it.
Trevor sits on the lawn chair across from me, exhaling a cloud of smoke. With the back of his hand, he rubs his bloodshot eyes. “Where’s your new friend?” he asks, saying the word like he still doesn’t buy it. “Shouldn’t she be home from work by now?”
“She went out.” I shrug, pretending not to care.
He flicks his ashes into the ashtray on the table beside him. “With who? I thought she didn’t know anyone down here.”
I fight the urge to ask him for one of those cigarettes. Usually he doesn’t smoke around me. “She went out with Briggs.”
Just as I expect, Trevor is surprised. “And you’re letting this happen?”
“What do you mean letting this happen?”
“You’ve met Briggs right? You don’t give the guy enough time off for girlfriends. If he’s out with Charlotte, then all he’s interested in is—”
“I know,” I cut him off before he illustrates the point. “But they’re both adults. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Sure there is. I thought you liked her.”
“I do like her—we’re friends.”
“You’re still sticking to that story, huh?”
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