Girl Next Door: Puck Buddies Series

by Brown, Tara

  “I can’t talk about it. How’s Wisconsin?” I ask as I slip my earbuds in and plug them into my phone so I don’t have to hold it to my ear.

  “Cold. It’s still early spring here. Are you at your dad’s in Halifax or have you flown the coop already?”

  “Escaped early,” I kid—sort of. “I flew home this morning at like six, and now I’m headed to work to put in a few hours.”

  “No, it’s your week off, Jenny. And it’s already four in the afternoon.” She sighs. “And your text—are you okay?”

  “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a whole thing.” I don’t say his name or explain anything.

  “Okay, then we won’t.” She’s curious, I can hear it. “How was the trip home?”

  “Magical as always.” The pity party for one has begun, and I have to laugh at the week I’ve had. “Judith made sure she let me know that twenty-eight is over the hill.” The memory of my stepmother’s smug expression makes me want to punch her in the throat. “And forget kids, unless I start freezing my eggs now. She had a brochure for it.”

  “She did not.” Claire gasps.

  “She did.” I press my eyes shut. “And while I don’t want kids, it still stings a little extra today.” The confession is forced and painful.

  “I’m sorry, Jenny,” her voice softens.

  “Apparently, coming home early from my parents’ was a bigger surprise than I intended on giving.” It’s all I’m about to say. I can’t speak. Tears well in my eyes and my throat feels like it’s on fire.

  “Fuck Ben and Judith. You’re successful and brilliant and beautiful. You have amazing hair, and you don’t need a man or a relationship or babies.” She pauses and smiles, I hear it in the tone. “And if you change your mind, then we’ll go freeze our fucking eggs together!”

  We laugh. Hers is real and mine is empty, but it’s better than I hoped for.

  “One thing though.” I’m serious again. “If he tries to reach you in any way, I do not want to speak to him. And I don’t want him to have my new number.”

  “Of course. I’ll spread the word around to the girls, making sure everyone understands he is dead to us.” She’s upbeat and firm, strong for me. I want to be too, but my empty chest burns from its losses.

  “Thanks. I’m moving apartments this month, my lease is up anyway. I’m hoping to start the hunt this weekend. So if you hear of anything—” My work phone in my other hand buzzes with a text. “I better go. Stan’s texting which usually denotes some sort of emergency. Last week it was because he couldn’t get ahold of Victor, my boss, and he needed me to spin our way out of a retired soccer star who was caught marrying his sixth wife and not divorcing any of them.”

  “How is that possible?” Claire asks with a giggle.

  I cover my eyes. “Apparently, he uses a random friend to pretend to be a minister and marry them all, so it’s not legal. His first marriage isn’t even legal. Then he leaves them, kicked out without a cent. They’re banding together now in some ex-wives club, trying to sell their story. It’ll ruin him and he’s taken a coaching job in Madrid.”

  “You have the weirdest job.” Claire sighs. “Anyway, are we still on for sushi on Monday? I’ll be home around three Sunday,” she changes the subject.

  “Next week? Yeah.” I recall the date we made. “Text when you’re home and safe so I don’t worry.”

  “Okay. Try not to work too hard. Good luck with the apartment hunt. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” I say, not promising anything as I hang up and my other phone rings immediately. “Mr. Levisohn?” I can’t hide the worry in my tone. Stan rarely calls me.

  “Jenny, I’m glad I caught you. Are you on your way into work, on the train?”

  “I am, sir. I realize I said I would be there by two but something came up.”

  “Get off the train and go back home. I need you to pack for a trip. It’s first thing in the morning. I’ll have a car waiting for you.”

  “A trip?” I’m lost. “Where?” I’ve never been asked to travel for this job. That’s something the senior people do. And why today of all days?

  “I can’t say.” He’s firm. “It’s a secret location. It’s a secret event. I need you to go in my stead and take care of things.” He sounds distracted which isn’t surprising. He’s a busy guy. “You don’t have to work there, merely be there in case things go south. In fact, I’m choosing you because I think you’ll have fun.”

  It sounds weird and his lack of actual answers has me worried.

  “Uhm, sir, this isn’t a great time for me.” I close my eyes. “I’m planning on moving my apartment. My lease is up at the end of this month, and I was hoping to shop for a new one all weekend.” It’s not entirely untrue.

  “I see.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with the fact your personal number has been disconnected?” Stan asks, his tone no longer sounding distracted.

  “Uhh, yes.” I swallow hard, terrified. “Sorry, I was going to update my contact information when I came in to the office today.”

  I pause and he doesn’t respond.

  It’s silent on the line.

  I’m speechless.

  Do I explain the whole thing and humiliate myself or let him think I’m unreliable in any way? My stomach is aching and sweat is forming on my brow.

  “You’re in Yonkers?” he finally asks quietly.

  “Woodlawn Heights.”

  “Right.” He pauses again. “That’s quite a commute to the office every day.” His comment confuses me.

  The train is coming to a stop at Melrose.

  “It’s not too bad. It’s nothing to worry about, sir. This will not affect my work at all, and I will take care of it.” I’m grateful for the empty train as I’m sweating and talking too loudly.

  “I’ll tell you what, Jenny, you do this favor for me this weekend, and I’ll have a company take care of your move for you—”

  “I have to find an apartment first, sir. It’s not until the end of the month.” The whole idea of such a short-notice move is already stressing me out, regardless of it needing to happen, and this isn’t helping. Especially not after the day I’ve had.

  “I can do you one better. We own a building in Midtown. There’s an apartment that’s come available. I’ll have the movers arranged, everything will be taken care of. You just go home now and pack a bag for the weekend. Very formal and swanky. Think spa retreat and black tie.”

  “What do you mean, sir?” I hurry off the train, trying not to have a heart attack. I don’t know what spa he’s talking about; I’m stuck on the apartment. “Midtown?” I accidentally blurt when I reach the platform, holding my handbag and my phones, stunned. “I can’t afford Midtown, sir. Please don’t worry about this.” I admit defeat internally. “I can have it sorted right away. If the trip is that important, of course I’ll get a friend to hunt for apartments for me. I’m sorry to have been a bother.”

  “No, no.” He laughs. “Jenny, you’re doing that Canadian thing again. I’m the one bothering you. These are my orders: Go home. Have a glass of wine. Pack a bag for five days of fancy resort life. Swimsuits and dresses and whatever else you girls need. Get in the car that will be waiting for you in the morning. Give your house key to the driver. I’ll have movers come to your apartment, pack your things, and move everything into the new place, so when you arrive home Sunday, you’ll be all moved in. Take Monday off and unpack your house. I’ll see you Tuesday, all right?”

  The train going home arrives, creating noise in the background, leaving me not entirely sure what I just heard, but it has to be wrong.

  “Jenny?”

  “Sir, I—I can’t accept this. It’s—” My cheeks flush as more sweat bursts from every pore on my body. “I can’t afford it.”

  “How do you know? You don’t know what the rent is. What are you paying currently?” He ignores my pleas.

  “Uhhh—twelve hundred a month with everything included.
” The answer is flat and cold. I’ve never been this discombobulated in my life.

  “Okay, well that is the rent on this place too. And I’ll set it up with Accounting that you pay half of that from every paycheck. You’ll pay less income tax this way. It’s good.”

  I’m frozen.

  How do I get out of this?

  Can I say no to my boss?

  “Jenny?”

  “I’m not sure how to respond, Mr. Levisohn.” Tears well in my eyes but this time it’s shame. I don’t want his pity but I don’t see a way out of it.

  “Don’t worry, just say thank you and have fun. Honestly, you’re the lifesaver for doing this. It’s the least I can do. Enjoy that wine, kid. You sound like you need it.” He hangs up and I’ve never been more confused. To top it off—the shit icing on the shit cake—I’ve missed the train home. And now I have to stand here, sweating, half crying, and speechless.

  4

  Liquid breakfast of would-be champions

  Wednesday, June 14

  Lori

  Waking at the chalet is peaceful. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well. The resort isn’t at all what I expected for Sami and Matt’s wedding. But I think that’s her plan. She’ll have the last laugh at the paparazzi, despite the cost being her sanity. And Matt’s. And everyone else’s. Though when we arrived, Brady, Matt, and I got excited. We genuinely enjoy the outdoorsy location and hope to make the most of the five days here.

  Fishing, hiking, paintball—though Sami’s forbidden that—boating, and swimming sounds like a majestic way to spend a wedding week.

  Still in my boxers, I take a cup of steaming hot coffee to the deck and sit in the large wooden Adirondack chair that has a fluffy blanket on it. I savor the feel of the fresh woodsy air. It’s already blowing the stink of the city off me. I sip and sigh, loving that there’s nothing but squirrels, birds, and a soft breeze.

  Sami and Matt and Nat and Brady are staying in the biggest house here with her parents to help out with Eli.

  It’s weird we’re at a resort that plays at farming and camping, all the while catering to the rich with service that’s second to none, including personal chefs.

  As a member of the wedding party, Sami wanted me in one of the huge houses next door to them, but this small chalet with one room suits just fine. It almost feels like camping, but more like glamping which secretly I prefer. I’ve never been a sleep-on-the-ground kind of guy.

  A foreign sound catches my ears as I’m midway on my coffee. It’s a funny hum that takes a second to recognize as a golf cart gets closer. I brace for the party to start. Guests will be arriving all day, over a hundred people who woke up with no clue they’d be attending a wedding this weekend. People, with plans and appointments and important schedules, all dropping everything as a driver shows up at their house with a secretive invitation to the most anticipated wedding of the decade.

  Sami-fucking-Ford is getting married.

  It’s a big deal.

  Carson waves from the cart as he and Rich drive up, both too dressed and way too designer for the landscape. “Can you believe Sami chose fucking Kentucky?” Carson blasts as he jumps from the cart.

  “Tennessee,” I correct him with a laugh.

  “Whatever, like where are we though? Honestly?” Carson is already drinking. “This is the middle of nowhere.”

  I tilt my head at the flask in his hand. “It’s ten thirty in the morning, buds.”

  “It’s a wedding, Lori. If we don’t day drink, we might not make it through the bridezilla antics scheduled for after lunch.”

  “He has a point,” Rich agrees quietly as he comes in for a hug. “Also, sorry about the playoffs. That was a rough blow.”

  “Thanks, man. It sure was.”

  “Oh right.” Carson winces. “That was this week? Anyway, I can’t believe we’re here. And Sami and Matt are finally getting married.” He rolls his eyes and I understand his point. It seems like Sami and Matt have dragged on for years, decades, with their bullshit. Something I don’t understand. If they’d talked to each other instead of being ridiculous martyrs, none of the misery would have happened.

  “What time did you get here?” Rich asks.

  “Last night. They abducted me from my apartment in the afternoon. My bags were packed and my shit was already in the limo. They were seriously sitting outside my place waiting for me to get home from the final team workout.” I laugh. “It was crazy. What about you guys? How did you avoid coming early?” I ask and sip my coffee.

  “We missed a bunch of calls and texts from Sami yesterday—I’m assuming it would’ve been something similar to your experience—but we were at a deprivation chamber. So we got the wakeup call this morning and caught the first flight out of LaGuardia at six am. Arrived here half an hour ago.” Rich shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “That was intense.”

  “It was bullshit. The driver was at the house at five am, waking us up with Sami’s insanely secretive invitation. I went to bed at two last night.” Carson lifts the drink. “Hence the liquid breakfast.”

  “And we arrived here at the worst time,” Rich adds. “As we walked in the door of Sami and Matt’s place, there was an incident with the wrong color napkins for the rehearsal or something? Sami was losing her shit. We escaped out the back door before Her Highness saw us. Brady tried to follow but he got caught making the escape. We stole his golf cart and left him behind.”

  “Jesus.” I laugh bitterly. “The Princess and the Pauper needs to come second to the wedding. She’s going to drive everyone nuts and ruin the whole thing.” Sami and Nat’s influencer company makes us all crazy.

  “But Sami will never allow the cameras to stop rolling. She wants everything recorded and photographed,” Carson groans. “Matt will eventually lose it and become a bear. You mark my words, he will eat someone this weekend. I just don’t want it to be me.”

  “Me either.” I laugh, stunned he agreed to this publicized wedding in the first place. Brimley is a private guy.

  “Have you seen the guest list?” Carson asks with a grin that screams he has.

  “Nope.”

  “There’s some single girls coming. No bridesmaids worth giving a second look, besides Nat, but I heard a couple of attendees are smokeshows.” He nudges me. “Just don’t let the cameras catch you up in that. There’ll be hell to pay.”

  “There’s always hell to pay.” I finish my coffee. “Speaking of which, has Matt’s mom arrived yet?”

  “A few hours away still.” Carson sighs. “She’ll be a bitch the entire weekend. And she’s bringing Matt’s sister-in-law and the kid. I don’t understand why people bring kids to weddings. It’s rude and inconvenient.”

  “You mean besides little Eli?” Rich lifts an eyebrow.

  “Obviously, Sami and Matt’s infant son should be at their wedding. But no one else needs to bring their little brats.” He finishes his drink. “I need a nap.”

  “Are you guys staying over here with us peasants?” I motion toward the cabins smattered in the woods around us.

  “Yeah, we got a cabin. I think we’re neighbors. The old guy checking us in said we had the option of being in one of the houses near Matt’s mom or a cabin kind of out of the way.” Rich snorts. “Needless to say, this was our choice. He gave us a key and brought our stuff over already.”

  “Plus, we know Brady and Matt are gonna come over here and hide out the whole time. Might as well be where the action is.” Carson winks. “I think all the hockey players are here in the cabins.”

  “That makes sense. Well, why don’t you guys go on and settle in on your side and I’ll get dressed and head over to see if they need my help with anything.” I point at the cabin attached to mine. They’re all built to be single-story duplexes.

  “I was saying to Carson, we should take a hike into the hills after our nap.” Rich points to the mountains across the little valley from us. “There’s trails over there.”

  “And I was saying count me
out,” Carson sneers. “If the golf cart doesn’t go, neither do I. You guys are gonna get eaten by a bear, and Sami will bring you back from the dead to kill you again.”

  “Don’t be such a pussy.” I grin at Carson. “If we find any bears, I know a trick.”

  “Oh, I can imagine the tricks you Canadians have regarding wildlife.” Carson waves and walks back to the cart. “No, thanks!”

  “Ignore him. We’ll meet you at Sami’s in a bit. Give us a couple of hours to get a small nap in.” Rich chuckles and follows his boyfriend to the golf cart, though they only have to drive a few feet to their driveway.

  “That works. I think Sami wanted to do a picnic photoshoot anyway. I heard Brady talking about it. Lord knows I won’t be allowed to miss that.” I wave back and head inside to get changed, grateful at least Carson and Rich are here now too. Between them, me, and Brady, this should be an interesting weekend.

  5

  Sami-fu$$ing-Ford

  Jenny

  The thick forest on either side of the road makes the afternoon drive through the mountains of Tennessee that much more suspenseful. I have no idea what to expect. I know one thing: I’ve been forcefully bribed with low rent into attending Sami Ford’s marriage to Matt Brimley. Beyond the weirdly vague phone call on the train, I’ve been given no warning, no instructions, and only those few wardrobe suggestions which weren’t helpful. Spa resort with black tie?

  I assumed it would be at a castle or something equally glamorous erected in her honor, until we landed in Tennessee. I seriously doubt there are any castles here.

  “Why did Stan choose us to come to this?” Sukii, my partner in crime for the weekend and Stan’s assistant, asks again softly.

  “He said he thought we might have fun.”

  “Who the heck invites their PR company to their wedding?”

  “Celebrities. I don’t think they have real friends. They have other rich people they hang out with, staff, and family. We’re staff.” I take another sip of the complimentary champagne we were served the moment we climbed into the limo. It’s a Dom Perignon rosé, because that’s a complimentary champagne?