“Oh, please.” Leigh turned back to level him with a smirk. “Nobody wants to hear about your so-called hard-knock life, Golden Boy. What, you’re overwhelmed with being photographed for billboard ads? You’ll need to wait your turn to unburden yourself. Zora looks like she just might win this round of Who’s Suffered More.”
Walker scowled at her back. “Debatable. But if the way she looks and smells is any indication—”
“Hey! I was at the gym earlier today! I worked out!”
“We’ll have to see,” he continued, unperturbed by me pinching what little fat I could grab from his side. “Usual terms? Loser buys dinner for all?”
“Might as well.” Disgust sat heavy in Leigh’s voice as she tossed a container of indeterminate contents into the trash. “There’s no chance of salvaging anything from this landfill.”
“Deal. Whatever I want?” Walker sounded hopeful.
Leigh swept the contents of the counters into the open mouth of the trash can, throwing an arched look back at him as she did so. Felicia sniffed the air around the trash can before scurrying away, toenails clattering against the hardwood floor as she headed into the relative comfort of the living room. “Confident, aren’t you? Why don’t you go first? We’ll let Zora go last—my money’s on her.”
Walker let out a shallow sigh, rocked back on his heels as he stared at the ceiling. Leigh folded her arms and smirked.
“So, it’s like this,” he began, repeatedly running an agitated hand over his low-cut fade. “I, uh—”
“Here we go with some bullshit.” Leigh shook her head. “And from the sound of it, it has something to do with a woman.”
“That’s just part of it.” Walker looked as if he wanted to knock Leigh off the stool.
“Okay, Don Juan. What’s the problem?”
“This girl I’ve been, uh, seeing. She wants to talk—”
“Who?” I interjected. “Do I know her?”
“No.”
“Let me guess.” Leigh’s smile was slow, feline, and designed to infuriate. “She wants to have ‘The Talk.’ To find out what you guys are, where you stand. Because apparently that’s not clear to her. Am I right?”
Walker scowled. “More or less.”
I studied my brother, hoping against hope he wasn’t about to say what I suspected was coming next. “Okay. So, what part of that is difficult for you right now? I mean, do you think you’ll have a hard time expressing—”
“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Leigh inclined her head toward me, as if sharing some secret insight with Walker. “Still has her delusions about her scandalous big brother. Let’s get to the heart of the matter here, shall we? Won’t be that hard and shouldn’t take too long. Do you like this girl, this woman, Walker? Yes or no?”
He hesitated, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I mean—”
“Yes or no.”
“Well, compared to—”
“That’s a no.” Leigh looked smug.
I sat upright, agog, as I stared at my brother. “Did you just say, ‘compared to’? As in, you can’t make up your mind because you’ve been—”
Walker sent me a vaguely apologetic look. “I just don’t have those kinds of feelings for her, Z.”
“We’re all adults here,” Leigh said in a sweet, falsely placating tone. “Let the man speak. I think we’ll all learn something. We always learn something when Walker speaks, don’t we?” I ignored the mocking grin she sent me.
He glared at her. “No shade, but compared to the other women I’ve been seeing . . .” He winced.
I shook my head at my brother. “So, let me get this straight. You’d be fine sleeping with her indefinitely, even though you know you don’t have those kinds of feelings for her?”
Walker nodded in slow motion. “Yeah?”
God, men could be the worst. Even my own brother, apparently.
“I see. Seems the decent thing to do would be to tell her that, then.”
“I agree.” Leigh nodded at him. “Preferably the next time your dick is in her mouth. You know, so she can give you her honest, candid feedback.” She bared her teeth, then brought them together with a loud click.
He glared at her. “I didn’t make any promises. I’m upfront with everyone that I’m just trying to have fun and I don’t want anything serious.”
“What’s the other thing?” I motioned for him to get on with it before Leigh started chewing on his hide again. “You’ve earned no sympathy from us so far.”
“Where’s your compassion, Z?”
“I’m at my limit with dicks.”
“That statement deserves a few follow-up questions,” Leigh said, spluttering with laughter. “Like, how many, and where—”
I threw a balled-up napkin at her.
“The other thing is your sister.”
Leigh and I stopped laughing and turned back to Walker.
“Uh-oh.” Leigh’s eyes were bright. “Trouble in the kingdom?”
“Shut up,” Walker spat, and there was enough of an edge to his tone that I leaned forward. He was upset.
I held up a hand to Leigh, signaling for her to ease up a bit. My twin sister, Tavia, had been, until recently, content working in New York’s financial district, managing a hedge fund. She’d decided to join the family business after all, breezing into town with little warning, announcing her intent to widen the scope of Leffersbee Financial by offering her Wharton-sharpened financial advice to corporations and small businesses. Walker would’ve been fine with that, if that’s all it was, and their separate roles were clearly defined. But we were talking about Tavia. So, the situation was anything but simple. From what I’d heard, each workday brought another challenge, another skirmish, as the two jockeyed for position.
All while my father sat back and watched.
“What happened with Tavia, Walker?”
“Said the decisions I’d been making—with Dad’s backing, mind you—made competitors view us as stagnant. That if I took risks, was more aggressive about growth . . .” He broke off, shaking his head. I knew my brother well enough to know that he was beyond angry; he had probably swallowed enough frustration and irritation that it was already bottlenecked inside him.
“I’m sorry, Walker.”
“Z, if she wasn’t our sister—” he cut himself off, seemed to gather a deep breath. “Anyway, one of the tellers came to the back and said customers could hear the yelling from the lobby—”
My jaw dropped. “Yelling? Y’all were yelling? Loud enough that people could hear from the front?”
Walker closed his eyes. “Z. You know I’m not that dude. Raising my voice, getting heated like that.”
“That’s not you.”
“Right. And truth be told, it was mostly her getting loud.”
I bit my lip. I considered myself pretty easygoing, but I could recount more than a few instances where Tavia had pushed me to the edge and I’d lost my shit.
“This,” I said, giving Walker a meaningful glance, “is just one of the many reasons why I don’t want to be involved with the bank anymore. I don’t have time for it, I hate the networking and schmoozing—”
Walker’s smile was grim. “Haven’t you figured out there’s no escaping it, sis? It’s Godfather-level family dysfunction. You try to get out,” he lapsed into a regrettable Michael Corleone imitation, “and they pull you back in.”
“I resent that comparison as an Italian-American,” Leigh said with a grin. “Although I would easily cast you as that dirty-dick Sonny. Speaking of which, Walker gets no points for his general messiness and multiple liaisons. We’re issuing sympathy points to the poor woman who obviously doesn’t know what’s she’s gotten herself into. But five points awarded for the usual sister strife.”
“You next,” I ordered Leigh, sliding down from the stool to head to the cupboards for a glass. “I think I’ve got Diet Coke. Anyone want some?”
“Don’t offer us anything from that fridge unless yo
u’re handing out antibiotics, too.”
“Ha ha. What’s your story for the day?” I filled the glass with tap water and rested against the sink.
Leigh yawned and stretched. Walker watched with rapt attention as her back arched. “Another tit-grabber. I was using my Pete the Patient doll to educate this kid about what was going to happen during his surgery next week and this little goober kept grabbing my breast.”
Walker looked like he was fighting back a smile. “Sound effects?”
“Worse. He kept saying, ‘soft,’ in this weird voice. With every squeeze. Mom tried to tell him to stop, started giving him this speech about boundaries and body parts that he’s not paying any significant attention to at four years old. And you know what he says?”
Walker bites. “What?”
“He says, ‘Like Daddy! See?’ and squeezes me again while saying, ‘soft.’”
I bit my lip.
“The mom was mortified. The dad got up and left the room. And that’s not all of it. The kid’s hands had ketchup on them, so I spent the day walking around with bloody-looking, child-size handprints on my boob.”
“I will never understand how you ended up working with kids when you eat them for nourishment.”
Leigh flipped him off, but her expression softened as she turned to me. “By the way, thanks for all those Etch A Sketches you left in my kitchen last week. They really helped out. We haven’t gotten the usual donations from our toy manufacturers, and our stash needed a shot in the arm. You didn’t pay too much, did you?”
I waved away her question. “I’m just glad it helped. Let me know what’s next on the list.”
Walker looked between us. “I wanna help, too. Tell me what’s next on your list, Leigh, and I’ll get it for you. Although,” his expression turned smug, “you get zero points. What you’ve described is an occupational hazard. I’d be willing to throw some points the kid’s way, though. He’s the one having surgery.” He turned to me, his expression expectant. “Ok, Z. You’re up. Spill.”
I took a sip from the glass, wishing it was something stronger. Like kerosene.
“Well, I had a surprise visit in my office today. Couple of university officials came by . . . with an old boyfriend of mine in tow.”
Leigh’s head tilted. “Old boyfriend from how long ago?” Her foot beat a frantic beat against the counter island. “Gym Rat Poet? Finnish Foreskin?”
Walker grimaced. “Jesus.”
She grinned back at him. “What? Sometimes good things come with uncircumcised packages,” her grin widened, “as Zora found out.”
I paused for effect, then let the bomb drop. “Nick Armstrong.”
It took them both a minute to react.
Walker leaned back, mouth open.
Leigh exploded. “What!”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Mr. Houdini himself?”
Walker raised an eyebrow. “You have a nickname for everyone?”
“He’s the original disappearing act,” she sputtered.
“What’s my nickname?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She planted both hands on the counter, leaning closer to me. “Oh, he’s back, is he? Did you tell him we saw him with that red-headed ho—”
“Leigh.” Fatigue weighed heavily on my shoulders. “We don’t know that she was . . . indiscriminate. It’s not fair to pin the blame on her when we don’t know what Nick told her.”
She waggled her head from side to side. “Fine. Ultimately, it was Nick who cheated—”
“Wait. Pause.” Walker held up a hand, eyes closed. “Zora. You had contact with Nick after he left? What do you mean, he cheated?”
Leigh reached into the back pocket of her jeans, producing a leopard-printed hair clip. “Pay attention,” she told Walker, winding her hair into a knot at the base of her skull. “Houdini disappears one night and leaves behind a letter telling Zora he’s sorry, but he has to go. Says he has to get himself together, is leaving for her own good, and he’ll fix things when he gets back.” She turned to me. “That about right?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“And I know all this already.” Walker crossed his arms over his chest.
“So, your sister transfers to Northwestern. Has the good fortune to meet me.” She tapped her chest with one of her long polished black nails. “Likes the school, loves the program, but won’t go out and play because she’s still pining after this guy that just disappeared into the ether. So, I told her we could for sure find him with an in-depth Internet search.”
Walker’s gaze bounced between us. “And you did.”
“Yep. My cousin is a librarian. She can sniff out anyone’s footprint online.”
I picked up the story, seeing the events play in my mind’s eye. “It took some doing, but we found a lead. The school paper at University of Michigan was online. There was an article about Nick, something about an engineering contest he won.”
“It came with a cash prize,” Leigh inserted. “I can’t remember how much, but it was a significant amount. Certainly enough for him to afford a phone call back home to let your family know how he was doing, or even a plane ticket.”
“And in the article, they mentioned that he worked at a coffee shop near campus. So, Leigh called the coffee shop and found out what hours he worked.”
“And then I shoved Zora in my car and we drove the five hours to Ann Arbor so she could finally see this clown and demand some answers.” Leigh grimaced and scratched at the back of her head. “We never spoke to him, but we got an answer.”
Even now, all these years later, the memory smarted. Nick, somehow even bigger and even more handsome after just two years. Healthy and whole. He’d worn an apron printed with the coffee shop’s logo that emphasized his substantial frame.
He also wore a redhead.
I remembered every single moment of the disastrous afternoon. The shop had emptied of the afternoon crowd. Leigh and I had just made our way over a snowbank and onto the sidewalk. I’d shivered with nerves. Would he want to see me again? Would our connection still exist, or feel the same as before? Would he have a reasonable excuse for breaking my heart by not calling after all this time? Would he finally end the mystery of why he left and just tell me what happened, for God’s sake?
Then Leigh’s hand had captured my wrist, squeezing hard. I’d stopped beside her, my gaze following the direction of her nod. From our angle, we could see inside into the interior of the shop, past the front counter and into the front opening of the kitchen.
Nick lounged against a wall, a tiny red-headed woman plastered against his front. He didn’t step away when she reached up and gathered a handful of his shirt. He didn’t protest when she pulled him down until the difference in their heights disappeared, leaving his face mere inches from hers.
Leigh’s grip on my wrist tightened even more as we both stood, statues on the sidewalk. Waiting.
For the rest of my life, I would forever remember how the bitter chill of winter snatched my breath, turning it to transparent wisps of clouds. How the frigid bite of snow underfoot numbed my feet through the soles of my impractical fashion boots. I would never forget how both Leigh and I gasped when the redhead closed the distance between their mouths.
I’d been waiting for him, for any word from him. I’d put my life on hold, like a dumbass.
Leigh related the story to Walker while I stood clutching my glass of water in a death grip, frozen by the remembered horror. “She cried half the way home.”
Walker’s eyes grew hooded. His mouth tightened as he flicked a glance in my direction.
“Not half the way,” I protested. She was probably right, but I couldn’t go down as being that pathetic.
Leigh’s expression turned fierce. “And I’ll tell you now what I told you then. Screw that guy. Screw all of them, including,” she gestured back at Walker, “fuckboys who can’t bother to be honest with the women they’re dating, let alone themselves.” She gave a harrumph
that would have made me laugh under better circumstances. “All while you’re sitting in the dorm alone, being a good little girl. All faithful and true while that asshole is Frenching women in the storeroom. And I hope you told him exactly that when you saw him today. Did you?”
When I hesitated, she groaned. “Aww. Shit. What exactly happened?”
I told them all of it, beginning with Nick’s sudden reappearance in my office doorway and ending with Erin’s exit.
Leigh’s mouth hung open. She held up her hand. “Am I to understand this man showed up after all these years, with no warning, and at some point you find yourself ass-up in front of him? While some recording plays about how you can’t get yourself off?”
“It’s a training—”
Walker shook his head. “Wait until Jackson hears about this.”
Leigh smirked, raising a brow at me. “Do we really care about what Jackson thinks? He’s never here.”
God. My life had finally imploded. And there was even more devastation to come.
“I’ve looked online.” We both turned to see Walker holding his head in one hand.
“You did?” I asked.
“I did. I hated seeing you so upset. But your librarian friend did better than I could. I have never found a trace of a Nick Armstrong.”
“He changed his name.” I shared a look with my sweet, sweet brother.
“Of course he did.” Leigh padded out of the kitchen, then returned with the iPad from my bag in her hand. “What’s the turd’s last name now?”
“Rossi.”
She resumed her seat, fingers flying across the surface of the iPad. Then suddenly, her eyebrow lifted toward her hairline. “Looks like Nick’s been a busy boy.”
My stomach spasmed at the obvious surprise on her face. I walked over to her on numb feet, barely registering my own movement.
“He’s . . . done well for himself. Very well.” Leigh turned the iPad around and nudged it in my direction. We crowded in together.
It was a magazine article in Forbes entitled, “He Did it His Way.” A photo of New Nick topped the page. In it, he lounged on a stone stairwell, elbows braced on his knees, strong forearms resting against his shins. A stunning view of a metropolitan city in the valley below served as the backdrop. From his elevated height, Nick resembled a lord of the realm. I took in the artfully tousled dark hair and the stubborn cowlick I’d stood on tiptoe to rearrange for him so many times. I stared into the depths of those vivid green eyes, searching for some sign, some clue to this man’s identity.
Been There Done That Page 5