The bottle Quinn tossed me is called “Getting Nadi On My Honeymoon.” I giggle as I read the name. Quinn ignores me.
I once had a blue called “Can’t find my Czechbook.” It made me laugh each time I used it. Some were a little naughty, like a teal color Quinn gave me for Christmas one year called “Is that a Spear in your pocket?” I can’t even recall the last time I painted my nails. I only put one coat on and wait for them to dry as Quinn adds the final touches of makeup.
“Charlie, honey, you know your lips are too thin to go without a good lip liner,” Quinn tells me as she’s holding my chin in her hands, concentrating on lining my mouth with the signature red she’s assigned as my color. Quinn breaks occasionally to primp her own face and hair. She applies a clear lip gloss to her lips and a red lipstick to mine.
Quinn brushes a little bit of color over my cheeks, and it reminds me of the one time she told me I had good cheekbones. She never repeated it, but I always held on to that one feature she thought was maybe just a little bit better than hers.
She grabs an eyelash curler from her bag and asks, “Charlie, remember when you picked one of these up for the first time, and asked me what it was?”
We both laugh in unison. I remember Quinn looking at me like I was a martian. “What girl from planet Earth doesn’t know what one of those is?” she had said to me.
“Yah, you were such a little clueless bookworm when I met you,” Quinn says now.
“Hey, I’m still a bookworm and proud of it,” I say, confirming my status.
That is the truth. I was pretty clueless before I met Quinn. Jenny tried to help me, but I never gave her the time of day with that kind of stuff. She eventually gave up. Before meeting Quinn, I never wore makeup, I dressed very casually, my hairstyle was nonexistent. I just didn’t care. Those things weren’t that important to me. I’m not sure they’re important to me now, but I continue to let Quinn play Barbie doll with me, finishing off her magic with her eye-shadow pallet. Quinn beams back, pleased with her work, and spins the chair around so I can look in the mirror.
I look like the life has been restored to my body. My eyes have a twinkle. My hair is smoothed out with zero flyaways. Somehow Quinn managed to even create a little shine in my dull hair. My lips appear fuller, and my face is perfectly covered in foundation, hiding all blemishes.
I’m nearly unrecognizable. “Quinn, you did it again.”
I look pretty.
CHAPTER 12
Charlie
August 2012
The afternoon is slipping away. That’s what happens when Quinn and I are together. Quinn puts too much effort into everything, and I find my days floating by waiting for her. It’s OK though. It usually ends up being worth it, and today I feel pretty, so I guess it’s worth our time. I haven’t felt like this all summer.
Quinn presses me to do things I would never do if I didn’t have her as a friend. She opens doors for me that would normally never open. I stay friends with Quinn for the rush I feel when I’m with her. I know I put up with some crap, but truth is, it’s easy to be friends with Quinn. She makes the plans, she dolls me up, and I go along for the ride.
As per Quinn’s usual style, she finds us a cute little bistro down the street from our hotel. The hostess leads us through two brick archways and down a couple of steps where she seats us at a quiet little table for two. The tan walls and minimalistic artwork paired with smooth jazz creates a calm ambiance. It’s not quite dinnertime, so the place is empty. It’s the perfect setting for Quinn to finally bring up what happened the night I don’t remember. Losing Quinn after that night was one of the saddest things I’ve had to endure, with the exception of Jenny, of course. Now sitting across from Quinn, I see that she is calm, and her features are soft. I don’t see an ounce of anger across her face. Maybe she just let go of what set her off that night, but Quinn isn’t known for letting things go.
Quinn did say she wanted to talk when she called yesterday but has yet to bring it up. I’m dying to know, but I’m also afraid of the truth. If it was something catty Quinn would’ve brought it up already.
Quinn loves to call me out on my wrongdoings, so it must be bad if she doesn’t even want to talk about it.
“Charlie, I have to ask you something serious,” Quinn says as she reaches out for my hands. She stares me dead in the eye. Her soft features turn stern.
Oh, this is it. Yes, I can handle whatever she wants to ask me.
Quinn’s holding my hands tight, and I flinch, ready for what is about to come my way. I close my eyes, preparing myself to hear what awful thing I did.
“Charlie.”
“Yes,” I say as my heart falls to my stomach.
“I can’t do this all on my own. I’m going to need a little help from you,” Quinn says as she leans in closer.
“Huh?”
“Shall we split the surf and turf?” Quinn pauses and waits for my reaction.
“What? Surf and turf? Seriously. I thought you were about to talk about something serious.”
“Ha, you should’ve seen your face. What on earth did you think I was going to ask you?” Quinn laughs.
This is it, Charlie. Just ask her. Perfect opportunity. Pull off the band-aid. You got this.
I stutter as I spit the words out. The words I’ve been afraid to say. “Why did you leave me? Quinn, what did I do?” I turn my head down. I’m not sure I can look her in the eye.
“Oh, Charlie, that’s not dinner talk.” She puts her finger up to her lips and hushes me. “We can talk about that later. Let’s order a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, shall we? Go all out. We need to celebrate the fact that we are together again.” And with those words Quinn already has her arm in the air, flagging down a waiter. She didn’t give me a chance to refute her idea and didn’t even give our poor waiter a chance to come to us first.
A good-looking young man with wavy sandy-blonde hair responds to Quinn’s request and makes his way over to our table. A huge grin appears across his face as he gets closer to us. He locks eye contact with Quinn from halfway across the room and doesn’t break her gaze.
Quinn doesn’t give the waiter a chance to speak and goes straight into her Quinn charm. “Hey, doll, can we get a bottle of cab for the table?”
He smiles, unaware that he is about to be sucked up into Quinn’s tidal wave. “Sure thing, we have a Columbia Valley cab with notes of . . .”
Quinn holds up her hand. Palm facing out to stop him before he gets a chance to continue.
“I want you to pick out whatever bottle of cab you think I would like. Surprise me. What do you think a girl like me would enjoy?”
I watch Quinn twirl her fingers around her hair as she studies him. Her body is facing him, like an open invitation.
The waiter is practically drooling. I’m tempted to give him my napkin to wipe his face or prop his chin back up. None of this surprises me. I find it a little annoying now. I used to enjoy watching her because I knew I could never have the nerve to act like that. I found it amusing. I at least benefited from the freebies that usually came with her flirting.
“Place an order for the surf and turf too with an extra plate. Now, go be a dear and fetch me that wine. I’m dying of thirst.” She shoos the man away. Poor thing.
“Wow, that guy was practically drooling all over you,” I say to Quinn.
“I know, how cute was that? I wrapped him around my fingers before he even got a chance to speak.”
“Speaking of guys, how’s Nash?”
I’m surprised Quinn hasn’t said a word about Nash yet. Nash was the one guy Quinn consistently let back into her life. Every other guy was disposable, but not Nash. He was the first guy I saw Quinn keep around for more than one date, and the first guy Quinn met when we became friends. Nash has been around for a while now. He was obsessed with Quinn, as most guys are, but what made Nash so special was, he could handle Quinn’s need for attention without getting jealous. He knew where he stood with her and could handle her off-and-on switch
. I think he assumed he would get the girl in the end and eventually she would give up and settle for being his one and only.
“Uh, Charlie, you know how Nash was getting. He never wanted to accept that our relationship was just a booty call. Nash was getting too clingy, asking too many questions about our relationship and our future. And I was all like, dude, you were fun, but college is over and so is our little playtime.”
“Quinn, so what’s wrong with someone adoring you and wanting to be with you. Isn’t that what every girl really wants after all? You had your fun in college. Couldn’t you just settle down with someone who understands and accepts how you are?”
This is the most pushback or reality check I’ve ever given Quinn. I can’t help but feel protective of Nash. He’s been through the ringer with her and I’m sure she wasn’t kind when she let him down.
“How I am? What’s that supposed to mean?” Quinn says defensively.
“Look at our waiter, for example. Nash got that this was part of your thing and he accepted it. You’re a flirt and you need attention. You and Nash were dating, Quinn. I wouldn’t call him just a booty call.”
“Nope, just a booty call,” Quinn says with a snooty tone.
“A booty call that lasted three and a half years, Quinn,” I taunt back.
“Anyways, Nash wanted me to follow him to grad school in Chicago and I had to put a stop to it. His neediness was unattractive, and I just couldn’t have him latching onto me like that. I felt trapped and I had to get out. That’s how I ended up in Seattle. My dad knew a guy that worked at a marketing firm and they were hiring summer interns. I figured why the hell not. If it didn’t work out, I was at least closer to home and could call it a failure, and it was a failure but something good came out of it. In between bagel and coffee duty, I met the most amazing guy.”
I give her a smug look. Leave it to Quinn to find some hunk to latch herself onto as she is running away from one.
“I know, I know, I said I didn’t want Nash because he wanted more, but Charlie, with Asher its different. He’s different. He helps me be a better person.”
I highly doubt that, but hope it’s true.
Quinn glows and smiles from ear to ear. “So, Asher was brought in to audit the firm I was working for. I took his coffee order one day when he was in the conference room with the CEO and other executives. After his meeting he found me and asked me on a date, and ever since then we were hooked on each other. Get this, Asher is from right here in Portland and was just in Seattle for six weeks. I met him the first day he was in town, so we spent practically the entire summer together. He had to fly down to San Francisco two weeks ago and he just got back to Portland. So, I haven’t seen him in two whole weeks, and I actually miss him.”
“Wow, Quinn, I’m kinda impressed that you’re taking this seriously.” I give Quinn a genuine smile.
“Charlie, you will just melt when you see him. He is so handsome. Slightly over six foot, golden-brown hair—the kind you can run your fingers through, and it falls back into place perfectly. He has a distinctively sculpted jawline, like that of a model. Oh, and he has a six pack, just saying. Really, the perfect man.” Quinn giddily laughs. “I miss him and can’t wait to see him again tomorrow.”
“Huh, tomorrow? Is he coming with us?” I question.
“Yep, I can’t wait for you to meet him.” Quinn says.
“Oh, so it’s going to be me, you, and Asher tomorrow, then?” I find myself tapping my fingers on the table, annoyed that I have to share Quinn tomorrow. I’m not excited about meeting this guy. I know she’s saying the right things for once, but I also know he won’t last. Not worth my time getting to know him. It’s our time together, they both live here and she can see him when I leave.
But, I know it is no use arguing.
Quinn ignores my question, with her new distraction walking in our direction. Waiter Boy confidently walks up to our table, wine bottle in hand with the label presented toward Quinn. “Here is the bottle I chose for you, pretty lady. I didn’t catch your name though,” he says smoothly.
“That’s because I didn’t tell you. You had to earn it, and by the looks of that bottle, I’d say you did. It’s Quinn,” she says flirtatiously.
“Well, Quinn, pleasure to meet you. I’m Ted,” he says.
“Well, Ted, what does this wine say about me?” Quinn asks.
Her little show confirms exactly what I thought. Asher hasn’t changed her at all.
Ted’s tone is low and playful. “I picked this one for you because it’s a bold, full-bodied wine with hints of vanilla and ends each sip with a sweet cherry bite that leaves your mouth wanting more.”
I roll my eyes. Poor fool. Quinn is not interested in you, just what she can get from you. I want to scream, “You’re being used, Ted.” But instead, I sit back in my chair and watch the show play on.
Ted reaches across the table for Quinn’s wine glass. He brushes her shoulder doing so. Quinn smiles back at him.
“Give this a try, Quinn,” he says, handing her a full glass of wine. “Did I get you right?”
Quinn takes a sip and purses her perfectly glossed lips together before answering, “It’s perfect, Ted, you nailed it. Now will you be a dear and go check on my dinner.”
***
A few hours, some more flirting with Ted, and a bottle of wine later resulted in a partially comped meal and Ted’s phone number on our copy of the receipt.
“I got it. It’s only $40,” Quinn offers.
She slides some cash into the tab and doesn’t pull out the receipt with Ted’s phone number. Instead, she leaves it exactly where she found it. Poor guy. The queen of flirting had played him.
Quinn’s mood changes as soon as we leave the restaurant. For some reason, she seems more agitated now. “Do you mind if we just go back to the hotel and crash? The wine made me a little tired. I think I’m ready to call it a night if you are?” Quinn asks.
I don’t argue. “It’s been an exhausting day with the long drive, so that’s fine by me too.”
“Perfect,” Quinn says.
Quinn walks with a swift pace for someone who is tired. I catch her pulling her phone from her purse several times and checking it.
“What’s going on? Are you expecting a call? You didn’t end up sneaking Ted your phone number, did you?” I question her.
“No, just checking the time. Nothing to worry about. Can you walk any faster? I’m ready to get cozy and relax for the evening.” Quinn says, and we walk in silence the rest of the way to the hotel.
***
An hour later, Quinn emerges from the bathroom, her night-time routine complete. Just then, Quinn’s phone rings. Her eyes jump around the room, searching for her cell phone.
She leaps over the bed, scrambling to get to it. She locates it on her pillow, and once she has it in her hand, she silences the call. Quinn gives me an annoyed look but doesn’t explain the call or her reaction.
Up until that moment, I thought maybe my suspicion was unfounded and in my imagination, but now I’m convinced something is going on. She’s being secretive, but about what?
I stay sitting on my bed with my book in my lap. I pretend to ignore her, but I’m watching her out of the corner of my eye. She stares anxiously at her phone without looking up, presumably waiting for what I assumed was a voicemail or an incoming text from her mysterious caller. Quinn had been acting odd about her phone since we left the restaurant.
Seconds later, her face loses color, and her features harden. I don’t think she’s aware that I’m watching her. Yet, she appears to be cautious with her actions. She gets up slowly, trying to avoid my attention. She doesn’t say a word and makes a direct path to the balcony with her phone in hand.
I should turn away, except I don’t.
I can’t help myself.
I keep watching.
Quinn is keeping at least one secret from me. She won’t tell me what happened the night I don’t remember, so who knows what else is
going on with her. I haven’t seen or heard from her in three months and she’s making me wait to talk about that night.
Why are we waiting? What are you waiting for?
Quinn always does what Quinn wants to do and doesn’t ever feel the need to explain herself, but this is different. Her actions are out of character.
I continue to watch her cautiously, avoiding her detection.
She shuts the sliding glass door behind her, eliminating my ability to eavesdrop. She hits a few buttons on her phone and waits a moment, then pushes a few more.
I watch her pace the tiny balcony with her phone pressed tightly against her head. It appears she is yelling, but her actions don’t appear to express anger, as her brows furrow and the expression of concern spreads across her face instead. Everything about this situation is odd and out of character for Quinn. She loves having a good fight in front of me and craves the attention I give her afterwards.
Suddenly, she pulls the phone from her ear and tucks it back into her pocket. Her shoulders fall and her head drops. I honestly don’t know what to think.
Who could have caused that reaction? Was it Asher? I hoped not—I wasn’t feeling up to dealing with a heartbroken Quinn tonight. Which would be a first. No one breaks Quinn’s heart. She doesn’t let them.
I decide it would be best if I take a shower. I can hide out in there for a while to let Quinn cool down and decide what and how much she wants to share with me.
The shower’s water is almost too hot, but I don’t change it. I need to feel something other than confusion, even if it’s a little painful. The scolding water flushes down my back, causing my muscles to spasm and tighten. I’m so confused by all the unknown.
I want answers from Quinn.
I want answers from myself.
I want to know why I ended up at Liam’s house twice this week.
I want to know why Quinn invited me here if she has no intention of filling me in on what I did.
What is going on with her?
I want to shout.
I want to scream.
My best friend is sitting in the next room, yet I can’t bring myself to ask the questions to get the answers I really need.
The Pretty Ones Page 6