Deepest Blues

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “You think I only wanted to hang out with you because of your name,” he stated flatly.

  Clarke shrugged one shoulder. “You compare me to her all the time.”

  Mike's eyes narrowed slightly. “You can't be serious.”

  Before she could respond, he sat forward and leaned into her space. “It's easy for you to sit back and make a judgment when you don't even know her. I want you to meet her. Then you can see for yourself that I'm not in love with a character from some ancient movie. And I take offense that you think I only ever liked you because of your namesake. How shallow do you think I am?”

  “Mike,” Clarke's head tilted anxiously, “I don't think you're shallow at all, that's not what I was saying. I told you, I was just observing—”

  “You were making a bad observation,” he cut her off. “I have a fascination with Bogie? For all I know, the only reason you even gave me the time of day was because of your own obsession with things you can't have. You're so afraid of the people you love dying on you that you set yourself above everyone else.”

  Clarke's heart started its heavy thud that was becoming customary these days. She took a deep breath, willing her eyes to stay dry, and he plunged ahead.

  “You have this enormous superiority complex, thinking that you're better than the people around you. Your roommate is a flight risk most days, the guys you hang out with are overgrown toddlers with too much money. And you sit on your throne, casting judgment on their lives and playing queen mother to the peasants. The only time you show true emotion is toward things that aren't real. You have an unhealthy attachment to things that are unattainable. And the only reason you let me get as close as I did was because you knew you couldn't have me.”

  He suddenly bolted to his feet and stood at the end of their table. “I have no idea why I was so excited to see you today.” He looked her up and down and sneered. “You're just like the rest of them.”

  Clarke was vaguely aware of him tossing money on the table before he left.

  She looked down at her plate, her food hardly touched.

  “You okay, sweetie?” her waitress asked gently from beside her.

  Clarke gave her a smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes. “I will be.”

  And she would be okay.

  She always was.

  ***

  Clarke had returned to work and retreated into her office. One thing she could count on right now was her job. It was just complicated and busy enough to keep her from letting Mike's words dig under her skin and stay there. She would obsess over them later. Probably over a large deep dish pizza and a bucket of ice cream.

  Brady, Steve and Kip stopped into say hello. Brady lingered in the doorway, but she didn't let it bother her. She didn't have time to worry about his concern.

  About an hour later she heard Steve's loud greeting and she wandered from her office to see the reunion happening below. Shane and Greta were back. Clarke felt the pressure in her head release a little. Now maybe Shane could help her figure out this financial issue. And maybe Greta would be available for a pitcher of margaritas in the near future.

  “Is Clarke here?” Greta asked, looking around.

  “She's upstairs in her office,” Lia responded.

  Greta's eyes swung to the open stairway in the center of the building and finally connected to Clarke's.

  “Hey, Clarke.” Greta gave a small wave.

  “You guys got married?” Clarke asked, her voice laced with incredulous accusation. She hadn't meant for it to sound like that, but she was nearly at her full mark for emotional upheavals in one afternoon.

  Greta moved to the stairs. “Yeah, on New Year's Eve—”

  “WHAT?!”

  They all turned in unison to see Harmony standing in the doorway.

  “What did I tell you about coming back in here?” Lia took a threatening step forward, but Harmony ignored her.

  “You married that bitch?” she screeched, shock and horror warring across her face.

  “Oh, shit,” Steve muttered, as all parties shifted to block Greta from Harmony. Shane's whole body stiffened and his chest expanded as he faced his ex.

  Greta, for her part, rolled her eyes and kept moving to the stairs. “Can I talk to you, Clarke? Please?”

  “Shane, you've got to get rid of her!” Harmony called out shrilly.

  Clarke saw Greta fast approaching and retreated to her office, not wanting to have this conversation in front of all of their friends.

  Greta stopped in the open door and leaned against the frame.

  “Are you mad?”

  Clarke's eyebrows rose as she paced back and forth behind her desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Why would I be mad? Because you promised you would keep me in the loop? Because you demand transparency from everyone around you, but don't hold yourself to the same standard? Because you're my best friend and you ran off and got married without me being there? I can't think of a single reason why any of that would be upsetting, can you?”

  Greta groaned and closed her eyes. “I'm sorry, you're right. I should have at least called you.”

  “You think?” Clarke bit back, stopping in her tracks. “Did you even think about this? Or is this another one of those times where you do what's fun and damn the consequences?”

  “Clarke, it's not like that.” Greta rubbed the back of her neck with one hand.

  “You don't even know him, Greta!” Clarke's voice rose with the flush in her face. “He has a reputation for a reason! One of those reasons is throwing her own drama downstairs right now! I can't believe you married him!”

  “I love him,” Greta defended herself, clenching her hands next to her sides.

  “Yeah? Okay.” Clarke came around the front of the desk and moved her hands to her hips. “Have you even had a fight yet?”

  Greta frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Clarke's face twisted in disgust. She knew she was putting too much of her own personal problems into this confrontation, but she couldn't stop herself. “For real? You don't see how maybe that might be significant? Of course it's easy to love someone when you're always getting along with them, but what happens when real life interrupts and you start to disagree?”

  Greta's silence filled the room, but Clarke continued. Her fears had found a voice and an audience.

  “What happens when you guys have a big one and you haven't learned how to solve it yet? You got married on a whim, is that how the divorce will happen, too?”

  “No! Geez, Clarke, calm down,” Greta finally spoke up. “You have a point, but I don't think it's going to be that big of a deal. Shane and I talk. We discuss the issues we have. I really think that when we have a fight, we'll figure it out. I know it looks like I did this on the spur of the moment.” Clarke's eyes bugged out and Greta raised a placating hand. “You're right, we kind of did, but I love him. More than I thought I ever possibly could. This was going to happen whether we waited a year or not. So maybe our first year together will be harder than someone else's, but I truly believe that we're gonna get through it.”

  Clarke took a deep breath and let it out. She knew her friend was right. She also knew that her overreaction was in part due to being upset by Mike earlier. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes getting watery. “I wanted to be there.”

  Greta smiled and lunged at her friend for a hug. “I know, but you can throw us a kickass reception if you want.”

  Clarke nodded in agreement and clung to her friend. Damn, how she wished she could tell her everything that had happened this week. But the timing was all wrong.

  Her timing was always the worst.

  ***

  Mike sat in the sand, his phone pressed into his palm. The look on Clarke's face as he'd thrown his sharp knives wouldn't leave his mind. It had been easy to ignore in the moment, but now it was all he could see.

  She had been taken by surprise. Though not entirely shocked. She was wounded, but it was amazing
how well she held it in. That was Clarke though, ever the strong one. Taking more punishment than the others, and never complaining. It was almost like she expected to have the heaviest of burdens placed on her shoulders. She would learn how to deal with it as she went.

  He finally pressed send on his phone. It rang four times and her voicemail picked up. It's what he expected.

  “Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of those things. I wish I could take it all back.” He sighed. “I'd really like to apologize face-to-face. Text me or call me back. Please.”

  ***

  Sway and Kip both looked down at Clarke's phone that she'd left on her beach towel. The display was a picture of Mike in sunglasses and he was obviously driving. Both men looked up at each other at the same time.

  They went back to watching Clarke curve and carve her way along the rough water.

  When she'd gotten off work, Sway had been waiting for her. Mike had come home in a foul disposition. Sway had tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't say anything. Until Mike came clean, there wasn't much Sway could do to help. So he set off to see the wreckage that Clarke had surely been left in.

  But she wasn't wrecked.

  She was quiet, but otherwise the same.

  It was during her trek to the beach and Kip's subsequent tag-along that he realized what was happening. She kept herself compartmentalized, in order to protect those around her from her drama. But if she looked around, she would see that her friends were still aware of her inner turmoil. She invoked a loyalty in those around her. They surrounded her and supported her through every bump, every storm, even though she was unaware.

  The phone dinged, notifying the two men of the new voicemail.

  ***

  Clarke let the power of the ocean take over. She tried her hardest to stay upright, all the while knowing that she was a guest in a world she couldn't tame or change.

  Mike had been right. She was attracted to things she couldn't have. Like the perfect break. Or the heart of a man who still belonged to someone else.

  That was okay, though. She would get through this. She'd gotten through things that were so much worse before. This... this would be nothing. She would adapt and overcome. She'd be the best manager Shane had ever had, and she would make Walter's life the greatest kitty life in the history of the world. She'd get her friend a wedding gift. She'd listen to good music. Eat good food. Probably get herself some counseling so that she didn't go full-blown crazy.

  Her life would be good. Everything would be fine.

  Chapter 15

  Better That We Break

  “Clarke, I'm really sorry. Please... call me back.”

  He hung up the phone and let it drop into his lap. It was his fourth voicemail in two days. She still wasn't answering her phone. He knew he should just drive over to her house and wait for her. They needed to talk.

  Maybe he was reading into her silence too much. They often went several days without speaking, and it had never bothered him before. The only reason this was getting to him was because he knew he'd said horrible, hurtful things. And now he was afraid that he'd altered their friendship to a point of brokenness he couldn't fathom.

  His phone rang and he answered hurriedly without looking at the call screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Mike?” It was Ilsa.

  “Yeah.” Mike's excitement switched gears. His heart still kicked into overdrive with just her voice. Especially lately, when she was sober and happy and the baggage between them seemed so far away. Like it was part of a bad dream. Like they were starting over and doing it right this time.

  “Marcus is out of town, and I hate being in this huge house alone. I was wondering if you wanted to have a movie night with me?”

  Mike's initial reaction was anger at Marcus for leaving Ilsa during a time when she really shouldn't be alone. She was still vulnerable to relapse. But since she had reached out to him, he supposed he could take over that one aspect for the night.

  Then his thoughts switched direction. A movie night without Clarke. Mike tried to imagine what that would be like. He couldn't. But he and Ilsa used to watch movies together all the time before. It shouldn't be that big of a deal for him.

  So why did it feel like he was getting ready to commit treason?

  “Yeah. I don't have anything going on tonight. I can be there in an hour or so.”

  “Great!” Ilsa said, her voice happy and melodic. “Will you bring sushi?”

  “Yep, see you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  ***

  The past two days had blown up all over the place. Clarke and Lia were left scrambling as the monkey wrench that was Harmony Jeffords came loose, and Soaring Bird started moving at the speed of light.

  Apparently, Harmony had schemed and bribed and cajoled to cause all of the issues that they had been trying to resolve. Then Greta basically made one phone call, and Harmony's plan caved in on her.

  Shane had offers from other board makers coming out of his ears, and he appointed Clarke to choose one. He was busy with the wife, so it seemed.

  Clarke had gotten all of Mike's messages, but she hadn't been in a place where she could call him back yet. She wasn't getting home until nearly midnight every night, and she had to be back to work at eight in the morning. And it really seemed like the kind of conversation that you should have when you had time to talk. She just didn't have the time.

  She knew he was sorry. And she didn't want him to feel bad about it anymore. She looked at the clock on the microwave as she opened the refrigerator to get something to eat.

  Midnight.

  “Ugh.” She opened her phone and stared at the screen for a minute. Walter meowed at her feet, and she agreed with him. “I know. I'll just get it over with.”

  ***

  Mike jolted from his doze on the couch when his phone chirped on the table next to him. He looked at the blue screen of the television and realized that the movie was over. Glancing down at his chest, he saw Ilsa's head resting there, her face relaxed and in perfect repose as she slept against him.

  They'd watched two movies. Both of them starred Marilyn Monroe.

  It's not that Mike had anything against Marilyn. He didn't. She was a sweet actress and could be funnier than hell. But that was the compromise that Ilsa always provided. She knew he liked old movies, and she loved Marilyn.

  He reached for his phone and slid the notification over, afraid he was imagining what he was seeing. He blinked the sleepiness from his eyes as he focused on the communication.

  Clarke: I've gotten all your messages. Just busy with work. Please don't beat yourself up. We'll talk soon. -- Slim

  Mike closed his eyes and clenched the phone in his hand. Ilsa stirred on his chest and he reflexively tightened his arm around her.

  His phone went off again. This time it wasn't Clarke.

  Sway: dude, where are you?

  Mike roused Ilsa just enough to get her to bed. Then he headed back to his condo.

  He didn't tell Sway or Harrison where he had been.

  ***

  Girls' night out had officially turned into Clarke's night in. With nachos.

  She'd gotten off work at a decent time and went straight home where she showered. For like half an hour. The hot water beat her sore muscles into a state of relaxation she most definitely needed.

  Once she had changed into her yoga pants and an extra large t-shirt that had definitely seen better days, she went downstairs to make the largest plate of nachos she could imagine.

  The doorbell rang and she set the newly opened bag of chips on the counter. She pointed at Walter, who sat on the floor pretending to look disinterested. “Do not get on the counter.”

  “Meow.”

  Clarke got to the front door and opened it, expecting it to be Brady or Steve or perhaps both. But she was wrong.

  Harrison, Sway, and Greta barged in the door carrying paper grocery bags. Greta grinned and paused in front of her.

  “I hea
rd a rumor that you were making nachos and watching Cary Grant.” Greta's grin widened and she added, “It wasn't a rumor so much as the husband told me to get my butt over here and check on my best friend.”

  Clarke smiled and felt her eyes burn. She swallowed down the tears that crept up the back of her throat.

  “Have I told you that I love you yet today?” Clarke asked her seriously.

  “Don't thank me yet,” Greta warned quietly. “Mike will be here soon. He was in the office when Shane told us to come and see. He just has to drop something off first.”

  Clarke forced a smile. Without Clarke even having to tell her what was going on, somehow Greta had discerned that things were tense between her and the drummer.

  “It'll be fine,” Clarke reassured her, even as Greta gave her a look that screamed doubt.

  She followed her friends into the kitchen where Sway was already browning hamburger meat. That's what Clarke had been forgetting on her nachos. Red meat. Pure genius.

  “Wow, you guys go all out for nachos, I guess,” Clarke chuckled. The smell made her stomach growl in anticipation.

  “We're rock stars,” Harrison explained. “Everything we do, we go balls to the wall.”

  Nachos made, To Catch a Thief started, Clarke folded into a corner of the sofa. Sway took the seat beside her and they shared a plate of food. It was only fifteen minutes into the movie when Mike showed up. He walked in without knocking or anything.

  He stood there, staring at Sway and Clarke for a good thirty seconds before Clarke handed the plate off to Sway.

  “Can you pause it, guys? I'll help Mike get set up,” Clarke said while unfolding her legs and licking cheese from her pinky finger.

  “Yeah.” Greta lunged at the remote. “Harry, help me move the chairs around, I can't see the screen very well anyway.”

  Mike followed Clarke into the kitchen as her living room was rearranged. She took a plate out of the cupboard and began to make her version of supreme nachos with the supplies available.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she said, not taking her eyes or hands from her task.