by Elle Casey
I shift my weight from one leg to the other, feeling a little weird about hearing this conversation. I’m not involved in the band’s business, and I don’t want to be. Just the idea of it makes me want to throw something breakable or kick a hole in something. I’ll start with that fake painting in the foyer.
“That’s cool,” Sam says, his face blank and his voice on the stern side. “But I’d rather just stay here if that’s okay with you. I won’t get in the way.”
“Oh no, not at all. You could never get in our way.” She looks over at me with this crazy grin on her face, trying to convince everyone in the room that she’s perfectly relaxed and happy when I can see that she’s clearly not. “We’re just going to head out to Gray’s Papaya to have a hot dog. You’re welcome to join us.”
I can tell by the look on his face that he’s not sure if Amber’s invitation is genuine, but I also see him rubbing his stomach like a man who has an empty tank that needs filling. I don’t think he was very thrilled with the gourmet offerings in the fridge earlier either. Maybe he’s more of a hot dog kind of guy. I’m kind of hoping he is; it matches the bank robber fantasy I have going on in my head right now a lot better than someone who would dig into a butternut squash lasagna.
“I hear they’re pretty awesome,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Amber has a friend there named Ray, and she’s bought him some kind of surprise, so if you like hot dogs, it might be worth going just to see what it is.” My sister can be very creative with her gifts.
She looks over at me and glares, but I can’t figure out why, so I keep smiling.
“If you don’t mind me tagging along, I really could go for a hot dog. I hear the ones in New York are pretty good.”
Amber walks into the kitchen and grabs her purse off the counter. “They’re the best. Trust me. You’ll love them. I eat way too many of them. Come on, let’s go.” She runs out of the kitchen like it’s on fire. Sam and I are left standing there looking at each other.
“I guess she really likes those hot dogs,” he says.
“Maybe. Maybe a little too much, if you know what I mean.” I try not to laugh. It’s not fair to make my sister the butt of our jokes.
Instead of laughing like I expect him to, Sam looks at me funny.
Oh, shit. I just realized . . . it sounds weird that I’m discussing my sister’s preference for hot dogs. They’re so . . . phallic. Sam probably thinks I’m trying to be sexy with him. Yeah, I love to eat hot dogs too, big boy, they’re my favorite . . . Mmmmm, hot dogs . . .
Jesus. Could I be any more ridiculous? No. I could not.
He walks across the room, coming toward me. I know I should turn and leave ahead of him, but I don’t want him to look at my butt, so I just stand there like a doofus. He stops right in front of me, staring me down. His warm brown eyes look like melted chocolate. The beard that my sister thinks is hideous actually looks quite soft up close. I would love to reach out and stroke it, but I know that would be completely weird and not something I would ever do.
He holds his arm out.
I look down at it in a panic. Does he want me to hold his hand? The hot dog conversation has definitely given him the wrong impression.
“After you,” he says. He lets his arm drop to his side.
Oh God, what is my problem? It’s like I’ve never been around a guy before. Of course he doesn’t want to hold my hand. I don’t want to hold his hand either. Who cares if he sees my butt, anyway? I’m wearing a skirt, for God’s sake. He can’t see anything but layers and folds of material.
I turn and head out the door, part horrified and part fascinated by my complete lack of social skills. I’ve obviously been out on the farm for too long. Maybe it’s a good thing for me to be in the city a little bit, so I can learn how to act like a normal human being.
I walk into the foyer with my head held high, trying to decide if I’m swinging my hips too much or too little. I don’t dare look at him over my shoulder to get his reaction. I’ve never thought about how I walked before this moment, but now I’m wondering what I look like. Do I look like an old lady? A sexy young woman? An elephant? A penguin? An awkward, immature girl who has no idea what she’s doing in the presence of a handsome stranger?
Amber is waiting by the elevator with the doors open. “Are you okay?” she asks in a low tone as I saunter in past her.
“I’m perfect. Perfectly perfect.” My voice echoes around the foyer.
She comes in after me and slides her plastic card into the panel as we wait for Sam to join us.
“Good, because you were acting like you were all hot and bothered in there.”
I grab her arm and whisper-yell in her ear. “Be quiet! He’s going to hear you!”
He walks into the elevator just moments later. It’s possible he overheard the conversation, but I don’t dare look at him to find out. Instead, I stare straight ahead and try not to grab on to the railing inside the elevator when it starts its descent with a lurch.
“Lived here long?” Sam asks Amber. I’m glad for any small talk that I don’t have to participate in.
“About three months or so. We really love it. The guys down in the lobby are great, and we never see any neighbors. It’s like we own the entire building, even though we don’t.”
“They’re vigilant.” Sam doesn’t sound very happy about that fact.
“Oh, yeah. Trust me, it’s needed. I know it’s a pain having to explain yourself when you’re down there, but nobody from the press has ever penetrated our fortress.” She finishes with a laugh.
Well, at least she’s admitting the fact that she lives in a fortress. Amber was never one to deny the truth, though. She’s always been pretty straight up, and I do love that about her.
“Do you think we’ll have any trouble when we leave the building?” I ask, a bit of fear trickling into my heart at the idea of paparazzi accosting her. I glance at Amber to gauge her reaction.
“No. With the band out of town, nobody pays any attention to me.”
“I guess that’s good.” I’m not sure if she’s making this up to calm me down or if it’s true that she only has value to the outside world when she’s attached to Ty. The idea makes me kind of sad.
“Where are they?” Sam asks.
I look at him, checking to see if he’s trying to be funny or not. How could he not know where his brother is?
“In Japan for two weeks. Ty just left. I’m really sorry you missed him.”
“That’s cool. I’ll see him when he gets back.”
Sam will be here for the entire time I am. When a silly thrill runs through me at that thought, I realize that my libido and my brains are definitely not on the same page. This could be a problem.
We ride the rest of the way down to the lobby in silence. When we reach the ground floor and the doors open, there are two young men at the reception desk who both smile at Amber as soon as they see her.
“Hi, Jeremy. Hi, James.” She points at me as we get closer. “This is my sister Em. You should let her in any time she comes to the door, no questions asked.”
James grabs something and comes around the desk, walking over to us and stopping just inside the front doors that lead out to the sidewalk. “Do you mind if I take a picture?” He’s staring at me.
I look at him like he’s just grown two heads. Why on earth would he want a picture of me? I’m not the famous one in the family; that’s Amber, public relations manager of Red Hot. “What? Why?”
“So that the other employees will know who you are and won’t bother you when you try to come in,” he explains.
I feel completely and totally foolish now. “Of course. Take all the pictures you want.” I stand with my hands folded in front of me and a closed-mouth grin. I hate my natural smile, so I always try to rein it in for photographs. It’s too big. Once a little kid who came to visit the farm said I had horse teeth, and I never forgot it.
“Great. Thanks very much.” He takes the shot and then stares
at the camera as he walks away.
“Wait,” Amber says. “Take a picture of Sam, too. He’s going to be staying here for a while.”
James looks up. “What? Oh, yeah. Sure.” He comes over and gets a picture of Sam scowling. Maybe he doesn’t like his smile either. I don’t know why, though; every time I’ve seen it, it’s made me feel like I’m melting, and he doesn’t have a single horsey tooth in his entire head.
Sam is out the door the moment James is done. I don’t think he’s a fan of the attention. Amber shakes her head slowly, giving me a look that means we’ll talk about it later. I’m cool with that, because I’m not here to enter into any of their drama. I don’t even want to meet the band. As far as I’m concerned, Amber took care of all of our issues with them when she came here three months ago, and there’s no need for me to get involved.
Just thinking about this dredges up recent memories that refuse to back down: mothers . . . fathers . . . abandonment. I do not care who my father is. It doesn’t matter if he’s a guitar player, a drummer, or the lead singer for Red Hot. I already know all I need to know about him: he’s the type of man who lets a woman he supposedly cares about, someone who has no money of her own, disappear from his life . . . and he doesn’t bother to worry about her welfare or her happiness after he’s done with her. What girl needs a father like that in her life? Not this one.
I walk out the door and follow in Sam’s footsteps to the curb. We wait for Amber to catch up. When she gets there, she raises her hand and lets out the loudest whistle I’ve ever heard in my life.
My hands fly up to my ears, and my eyeballs bulge out at her. She turns around and catches me staring at her in shock.
“What?” she asks, sounding annoyed. “Do you want to get a cab or not? This is the fastest way, believe me.”
I nod, silently in awe of this person before me. I realize that as comfortable as I am with my sister when we’re tucked away in the apartment, I really don’t know who she’s become out here in the city. She’s bold, she’s loud, and she is unapologetic about all of it. A piece of me is envious of her ability to take charge of her life like this, to be fearless in the face of so much that can intimidate. I don’t think Amber has suffered a single moment of social anxiety in her entire life. I guess I’m doing enough of that for the both of us.
I look over at Sam, expecting him to be admiring Amber too, jealous of his brother that he has such a beautiful, smart, intelligent, and capable woman as his girlfriend. But I find him staring at me with the strangest expression on his face.
I turn away quickly, not wanting to know what it means. I’m afraid it’s pity and sympathy mixed with humor. It’s probably completely hilarious for him to see me—this weird hippie girl—trying to fit into the big city and failing at it so spectacularly. I mean, who could blame him? Five minutes after I met him, I told him my sister couldn’t come greet him at the door because she was too busy pooping. Who does that? Apparently, I do. Ten days is way too long for me to be sharing living space with this man. Who knows what I’ll be saying tomorrow after I’ve gotten to know him better?
As a cab pulls up to the curb and Amber opens the back door, Sam is suddenly at my side. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “Maybe she has some stomach cramps or something. Don’t hold her mood against her.”
My heart flips over in my chest. I turn to face him, my mouth hanging open. I giggle for a second before I can stop myself to admonish him. “Shush! That was supposed to be a secret! She’ll kill me if she hears you say that.”
He gives me a half smile as he ushers me toward the cab. “I never said your secrets would be safe with me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Apparently, hot dogs are a big deal here. There’s a line out the door of this restaurant, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me because there are hot dog vendors standing with their carts on almost every block. I guess these dogs are special. Amber is looking around the sidewalk outside, a frown marring her features.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Sam watches us, waiting for Amber’s response.
“I’m looking for Ray. He’s usually here this time of day.”
I look around too, not that it’s going to help. I have no idea what the guy looks like. “Maybe he’ll be here later,” I offer. I’m actually glad he’s not around. Amber says he likes to put people on the spot with his rude comments, and I’m already feeling self-conscious enough. I’d rather not have to worry about the crazy things he’s going to say that will throw me off and remind me once again how much I don’t fit in here. Amber can handle that kind of thing like it’s nothing, but I’m likely to pee myself and run for the hills. And if it were only my sister witnessing my humiliation, that might be okay, but Sam is here now, too. He’s already seen enough of me being a goofball.
“Is that him?” Sam points.
I follow his gesture over to a man handing out leaflets near the curb.
“No,” Amber says, sounding disappointed. “He’s too well dressed to be Ray.”
Sam’s eyebrow goes up, and I get why—this man’s outfit doesn’t look like it’s seen a washing machine in at least a month. Ray must be something to behold.
My sister opens up her handbag and looks down into it with a sigh. “I guess my present is going to have to wait for another day.”
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going as the line moves forward.
“Just something silly.” She closes her bag. “You’ll see when I show it to him.”
“How do you know this guy?” Sam asks.
“He’s usually here, hanging around inside or outside the restaurant. We struck up a conversation one day, the first time I ate here, and every time I visit, we continue that conversation.”
“What’s it about?”
I try not to stare at Sam’s face, but I’m really curious what his reaction will be when he hears Amber’s answer. I know what mine was—something bordering on disgust.
“He asked me if I was going to have sex with my hot dog.”
Sam just looks at her, blinking a few times.
She shrugs like it’s normal for a person to speak like that to a perfect stranger. “He likes to say stuff for pure shock value. It cracks me up.”
Sam nods a couple times and then turns to face the front door of the restaurant.
His non-reaction makes me think he’s judging my sister harshly, and now I’m mad at him for it. If Amber wants to have a conversation with a derelict about sexy hot dogs, that’s her prerogative. It doesn’t make her strange. Okay . . . so maybe I’m not the best person in the world to judge what’s strange or not, but I know the kind of person she is. She might be bold and unapologetic, but she’s not a perv. I feel the need to rush to her defense as I stare at his unyielding back.
“My sister doesn’t take baloney from anybody.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he says, not looking at either of us.
Amber and I share a glance. She shakes her head at me slightly, telling me not to say anything more, but I can’t keep my mouth shut. Sam is still being way too judgy for my liking. “Better that she stand up for herself than hide in a corner and be afraid to go out anywhere.”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “You know anybody like that?”
My face burns red, and my frustration level skyrockets. I wish I could answer his obvious challenge out loud, but I can’t; I’m too chicken. In my head I can, though, no problem. The answer is, Yes, I do know somebody like that. She’s standing right here behind you, you big dope-head. So what of it?
If that guy Ray asked me if I was going have sex with my hot dog, I would’ve immediately walked—no, run—away, abandoning my lunch with the solid plan of never returning to this part of the city. I’d mentally cordon off a three-block area in all directions and never venture inside it again. Avoidance—that’s my game. Surrender. Retreat. Hide. Abandon ship. I sure as heck wouldn’t have answered his question and then bought him
a gift. But I’m not Amber. I don’t have her lady-balls or her generosity.
“So what made you come out to New York early?” Amber asks Sam, a dare in her voice.
I reach over and take her hand, shaking it a couple times before letting it go. I don’t want her to think she has to jump to my defense now. This is her boyfriend’s brother, and they need to get along, which will never happen if she does the big-sister act trying to protect me.
He shrugs, not looking at either of us. “Some personal stuff.”
“Anything I need to know about?”
She’s not going to back down. I feel my blood pressure creeping up because I don’t think he’s the type to retreat either. Are we going to have a showdown at the G. P. Corral? This is New York . . . Will people join the fray and start throwing hot dogs around? With my luck, I’ll get hit right in the face with one, and then that’s all Sam will ever see when he looks at me. Not that I care. Or . . . upon further reflection, I might care. I don’t want to be known as the girl who took a wiener to the forehead. I look left and right, searching for a place that might serve as cover in the event things get out of control. There’s a nice little niche right next to the garbage can to my left . . .
Sam slowly turns to face Amber. “Why would you need to know about something going on in my personal life?” One of his eyebrows goes up. He doesn’t look happy.
I stare at my sister, wondering which version of her I’m about to see: the girl I grew up with in Maine or the new and improved, badass New York version. My fingers and toes feel like they have pins and needles attacking them as the tension rises.
“Because I’m the one who’s handling your contract.” She shrugs, taking some of the sting out of her words. “I’m a detail-oriented person, what can I say.”
“It’s not a detail you need to worry about.” He turns around and starts walking forward, filling up the space created by the advancing line.
Her expression morphs into one of anger as she glares at his back.