The Fallback

by Dietz, Mariah

  Andrea pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and grabs a pen. “Do you need a response from her today?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She nods. “I’ve got it. I’ll be sure to let her know.”

  “Thank you.”

  I’d prefer to drive, but with the afternoon traffic that will only become more congested with time, I opt to take to the L train. It’s busy, like everything in Chicago. I take a seat next to a couple of sightseers who make themselves obvious as the husband tightly grips a guidebook. He mutters something to his wife, but I doubt she hears him; she’s preoccupied with glancing around the train, her fingers clutching her purse. I sit back and drink my coffee, reading over a response I recently received on my blog post about Buti yoga. It’s both invigorating and strange to know someone has read the column.

  “Excuse me,” the husband says from beside me. “Are you a local?”

  I nod. “What can I help you with?”

  He smiles and elbows his wife. “See. They’re not all rude,” he tells her before turning back to me. “My wife and I are from Iowa.” He pauses as though waiting for me to comment.

  I don’t because the only memory I have of Iowa is a negative one. I’d been maybe five, and my parents had taken me across the border to meet a friend of theirs who owned a large family farm. I don’t remember much from the first day except I was excited to see all the animals they had. Turned out they also owned over a hundred acres of cornfields, and they showed me how monarch butterflies fed off the milkweed plants that grew between the stalks like weeds. My parents and their friends began listening to music and started a giant bonfire in the backyard. I didn’t like the music, and the plumes of smoke less, and the way no one regarded me even less. I began following fireflies, which led me into the tall stalks of the cornfield, where I made a game. Within the walls of the stalks, I created my own pretend house. House was my favorite game, and this area was expansive, with paths that led in all directions. Unfortunately, the turns and paths all began looking the same, and I couldn’t remember which way was out. I was lost in the labyrinth of a cornfield overnight.

  “We’re trying to see the Museum of Science and Industry,” the husband continues. “Do you know the best route to get there? And is it really worth seeing? I know these tour books are all paid by the attractions. This place is so dirty and overpriced I don’t know why anyone chooses to stay here. Plus, the violence here. I had to make sure our will and finances were up to date in case we got shot.” His snarky tone and mention of the science museum have my thoughts traveling to Levi. I don’t know Levi well enough to assume what he does or doesn’t like, and yet instinctually I’m certain he’d hate this man. Levi has a love for this city I haven’t experienced in too long—or maybe have just forgotten to appreciate.

  “The museum is a pillar in the city. You should definitely go and see it. There are many attractions in it, and if you don’t make it to all of them, it’s okay because it’s free to go.”

  “Free?” the wife asks, her eyebrows perched high over the rim of her glasses.

  I nod, regretful that I wasn’t able to think of a classy rebuttal for his view of the city. I go on to tell them which stop they’re going to take because the wife has become overly enthusiastic and the husband has grown increasingly overwhelmed.

  I stand as the train comes to a stop.

  “Thanks for your help, dear,” the wife calls. “I keep telling him this city isn’t full of criminals.”

  I glance around, noticing some raised eyebrows, a couple of deep frowns, and handful of smirks she’s receiving from fellow passengers.

  “You’re in Chicago. Put your tour books away and enjoy it.”

  The air is cooler today but comfortable as I set off in the direction of the bar.

  When I reach the street corner it’s tucked away on, I notice Chelsea out front. Her dark hair is curled, shining in the afternoon sun. She screams of confidence and accomplishments, and her clothes only accentuate the fact, completed with a tall pair of gold heels. I’m about to call out to her when I notice Levi is in front of her, holding the door open.

  My heart constricts and then squeezes when she smiles at him, placing a hand on his arm.

  I remind myself I don’t have room to be jealous as I make my way to the bar. That this was my decision and that it might even be better if they do share a spark.

  They both turn as I swing the door open, and Levi’s gaze meets mine. Silence stretches for several seconds as silent questions and assurances pass between us, ones I shouldn’t be asking and he shouldn’t be seeing.

  “Thanks for meeting us on such short notice, Chelsea,” I say.

  She smiles widely. “It was my pleasure.” She glances to Levi. “I’m thrilled for this opportunity. Tell me, do you have an idea of how you’d like this place to look? The feeling you want people to experience when they come inside?” She leans closer, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

  She’s interested in him.

  “I have a few ideas,” Levi says, leaning back on his heels before looking at me.

  “What about you, Brooke?” Chelsea asks.

  I raise my eyebrows as I pull open my laptop so I can start making notes. “Ummm…” I clear my throat. “I’m just here to plan the grand opening, not the bar itself.”

  “Sure, but which bars around town do you like most?”

  I press my lips together. “I don’t actually go out that often.”

  She giggles, swinging her attention back to Levi. “You’re such a homebody. How do you not know of the it spots in town? You’re an event planner.”

  I could argue. Tell her I know of every venue, even many of the nontraditional ones, but that seems as petty as her insult. “Apparently, I’m not very in.”

  Chelsea giggles again. “Are you sure you should be hosting the grand opening?”

  My shoulders bristle, and my stomach turns sour. I know she’s only insulting me as some ridiculous and random attempt to flirt with Levi. As though my being inferior to her prowess will make her sexier, smarter, and more alluring. However, her comment feels personal. I’ve known Chelsea for several years. I’ve referred other professionals and clients to her. I’ve introduced her to others who helped make her business a streamlined and successful entity.

  I want to point out that she’s come to me for help far more times that I’ve gone to her and see how giggly and confident she is then. Instead, I try my best to appear impassive and give her a rehearsed response that will end the conversation. “This will be an impressive event, and we’re taking every measure to ensure the fact.”

  Levi smiles. “I want this place to remain elegant and full of class, but I want it to have a vibe of the south side.”

  Chelsea pulls her chin back. “People don’t dress up and spend twenty dollars on a drink to feel like they’re in the south side of town.” She smiles—her confidence shines as bright as the diamond pendant hanging at her neck. She’s unapologetic as she stares at Levi, waiting for him to agree.

  I suck in a breath, my heart beating a rhythm that reminds me of the stadium before the baseball game. The crowd had been pumped, ready for their idols to step out onto the field—they wanted to cheer them directly into a victory. I want Levi to tell her how she’s wrong, though I fear she’s right.

  “We can discuss the details later. Right? This is just an initial meeting so we can get on each other’s calendars, am I right?” He flashes a grin.

  Chelsea flashes a bright smile that accentuates her perfect lips and perfect nose and perfect eyes. Even her cheeks are perfect and don’t make her look squinty when she’s smiling like mine do. Damn. She flips her long, glossy hair over one shoulder, and the image of Gabe having sex on our bed stabs through my thoughts of jealousy and annoyance, making my heart and breath stutter. I blink away the image and stare at Chelsea for several seconds, suddenly capable of seeing her being the woman I’d walked in on. I know she wasn’t. I would have recognized her
at the time, yet each time my eyelids close, it’s her I see.

  “That’s correct,” Chelsea says, grabbing her phone. “Let me open my calendar now, and we’ll set up some dates.”

  I could suggest I attend their meetings. I’ve done so with previous clients when they’ve hired a designer. However, doing so would only confirm jealousy is running through my veins at this time, and I’m not ready to admit that—not even to myself.

  “You know, I’m attending a fundraiser this Friday. It’s for homeless women and children, and I have an extra ticket. You could be my date. They’re always so long and boring.” She rolls her eyes. “We could discuss your bar and look over some samples.”

  “You’re going to bring samples to a fundraising dinner?” I ask before I can apply sense and stop myself.

  Chelsea’s sea-colored eyes snap to me, and then she smiles. It’s friendly and beautiful, like she is, reminding me of why I’ve referred so many to her. She’s easy to get along with, professional, and does one hell of a job. Maybe I’m reading into this. Maybe she’s not flirting with Levi. She moves her gaze to Levi and giggles. “Probably only ones on my phone, but it would be a great chance to spend some time together so I can get a feel for what you like and don’t like.”

  “I’ll have to see if I can get the night off,” Levi says. “Friday nights have been crazy for us at our new club, but I think I can get someone to pull a double.”

  “That would be fantastic.” Chelsea beams.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  25

  “Books!” Felicity calls as I cross through the front door. “Are you hungry? We made Chinese tonight, and I made some vegan egg rolls. They smell a little like seaweed, but I’m hoping that’s just because of … well … you know.” She emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She stops when she sees me, cocking her head to one side. “I could also serve you a liquid dinner. Wine? Martini? Dan’s special margarita?”

  I sigh deeply. “I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”

  “Oh, yeah? Is the sky also green?” She cocks an eyebrow.

  “We need to work on your comebacks.”

  She flips me off. “I have two kids.”

  “Two and…” I gesture to her stomach. “Have you called your doctor yet? And have you told Dan? He’s going to hate me if he finds out I’ve known and you haven’t told him.”

  “I want to know for sure before I tell him. You know Dan. He’ll want to pull out spreadsheets and start recalculating a new budget to ensure we’re saving enough money for college and braces and summer camps for those months mommy mysteriously needs to make a three-month business trip though she’s not employed.”

  “Felicity. You. Need. To. Go. To. The. Doctor’s.”

  “I will. I will.”

  “Before you go into labor.”

  She flips me off with both hands.

  “I’ve noticed Theo likes to point with his middle finger. I wonder where he learned that from.”

  Felicity laughs, her hands dropping to her sides. “It’s okay that I corrupt my own children because I can do it in small doses. This way they won’t become full-blown assholes one morning—they’ll be building up to it over years.”

  “Great strategy.”

  “I thought so. After all, my mentor is my best friend.” Felicity winks at me.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Where are your offspring? Have I mentioned they’re my favorite thing about you these days?”

  “They’re watching a movie, and you’re not going to do anything until you fess up and tell me why you look like you were hit by a bus.” She sniffs. “And why you smell like hot dogs.” She takes another long sniff. “I really want a hot dog now.” Absently, Felicity wipes her hands on the dish towel again. “I hate hot dogs.”

  I lift my blouse to my nose and take a deep breath. I smell like stale cigarettes and a crowded train car. “I rode the L Train this afternoon.”

  “That thing makes me grumpy, too,” she says.

  I laugh. “That’s because you’re an elitist snob.”

  “Someone has her claws out tonight. Come. I’ll give you wine so you can retract them.”

  “It may sharpen them,” I warn.

  She laughs. “Good. If it does, I’ll call Catherine and then take you to your old apartment so you can finally whack Gabe with the stupid stick he tripped over.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Work with me!” she cries.

  I expel another deep breath and kick my heels to the corner behind the door before following her into the kitchen.

  “So, really, what happened?”

  “I hired a designer for Levi’s new bar, and she spent the entire time flirting with him and making me feel stupid.”

  “How’d she make you feel stupid?”

  “I don’t know,” I whine. “It’s probably all in my head. But then she asked him out.”

  “Like on a date?”

  “Kind of. Sort of. Maybe?”

  “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” she asks.

  “She invited him as her date to some event on Friday, and it’s an event I declined and now wish I were attending.”

  The doorbell rings as Felicity adds a round of egg rolls to the hot oil, and the scent of seaweed gets stronger with the flash of heat. “I’ll get it.” I snag a couple of pretzels from an open bag near Felicity and head to the foyer.

  I swing the door open and freeze when I see Levi in front of me.

  “How did you…? Did you follow me?” I ask.

  He drops his chin, his eyes rounding with disbelief, as though my question is ridiculous. It seems completely valid to me.

  “I asked my mother for your address.”

  “She knew my address?” My eyebrows knit with confusion.

  “She’s your employer.”

  “But she doesn’t know who mows her lawn or cooks her food.”

  Levi’s face remains aloof with mild hints of annoyance that have his jaw tense and eyes narrowed. “What was today?”

  I stare at him, confusion arching my eyebrows. “Tuesday?”

  He shakes his head. “Were you trying to set me up with that woman?”

  “Set you up?”

  “I already told you I’m fine being friends.”

  “I didn’t… I never… What?”

  “That woman today. The designer or whoever in the hell she was.”

  “Chelsea?”

  He nods, his eyes rounding.

  “I wasn’t setting you up with her. You’re the one who accepted her invitation to go out. If you’ll recall, I offered you an out when I asked her how she was going to show you samples while at a fundraiser.” I stare at him pointedly.

  “But you brought her. You’re friends with her.”

  “Because I know nothing about bars or how to decorate them. I do weddings. Those are what I specialize in. The last time I was in a bar it was in a hotel. If you leave these decisions up to me, you’ll have taffeta and twinkle lights on the ceiling and giant bouquets of flowers at each table.”

  He drops his chin again, but this time his lips purse, fighting the hints of a smile. “You’re going to put flowers in a bar?”

  “Well, no, but you know what I’m saying. I’m not … I shouldn’t be handling your grand opening. In addition to knowing nothing about bars, I know nothing about grand openings.”

  “You’re being dramatic.” A grin tugs one corner of his mouth into an uneven smile.

  I close my eyes for a moment and then open them slowly. “This is not dramatic. I know because I work with a dozen dramatic people every single day. I’m being realistic.”

  “If you were going to be a detriment, my mother wouldn’t have assigned you this responsibility. If there’s anyone who hates failure, it’s her.”

  “Your mom has a sink-or-swim theory. You either rise above or you flounder and sink. She’s gambling on this. She knows it, and I know it.”

  “I don’t want to work wi
th an interior designer. I’m already spending enough on this place and have little hope that it will ever recoup costs.”

  “If you don’t like Chelsea, we can find you someone else, but this isn’t a line item you want to avoid. The look and feel of your bar could make or break it.”

  “Then let it break.” He starts to turn, and it’s then I notice a black sports car in the driveway. It’s flashy and precocious and completely ridiculous.

  “Hi, Levi!” Felicity appears behind me, smoothing a section of hair down as she waves to him, shooting me a glare.

  He pauses, turning back to face her, and his lips spread into a wide smile—one he didn’t bestow upon me. “How are you, Felicity?”

  I hate how much I like that he remembers her name.

  “I’m well. How are you?”

  His eyes flit to me before bouncing back to her. “It’s been a day.”

  “That’s what I keep hearing. Why don’t you come inside? I just opened a bottle of wine, and I’m cooking some Chinese for dinner. Do you like Chinese food? Of course you do. Who doesn’t love Chinese food?” She steps back from the door as though expecting him to come inside.

  “I actually need to get back to the office,” he says.

  Felicity raises a hand and swings it forward, waving away his refusal. “You came all this way. What’s another hour?”

  Hour?

  I glance at my best friend, my eyes wide as I work to telepathically scream at her to shut up and close the door.

  “You know, Brooke’s not exaggerating. She pretty much eats, breathes, and sleeps her work. She really hasn’t been out to many bars. Maybe you guys should go out this weekend and check some out.” She bobs her head, drawing out the last few words. “That way you guys can be on the same page and Brooke can get a better understanding of what she’s working with. She’s brilliant, by the way. She’s totally selling herself short. She actually planned my entire wedding.”