The Fallback

by Dietz, Mariah

  He laughs, and the familiar sound leaves me smiling. “Let’s take my car,” he says, stopping in front of his shiny, black sports car. It’s so clean I can see my reflection staring back at me.

  “We can walk to most of these spots. That way we won’t have to worry about parking,” I offer.

  “Are you sure? You’re wearing heels.”

  “I was born in heels. These are nothing.”

  He laughs again. “So, it’s not because my car is completely ostentatious?”

  “Needing to move around because I’ve been sitting since ten was my first reason, but that is definitely a close second.”

  He chuckles, bumping me with his elbow. “This was my first large purchase,” he tells me. “Before I moved out of my shithole apartment or bought any cool tech gadgets, I went and bought this.”

  We move past the car, but I crane my neck to look back at it. “Do you like cars?”

  He grins. “I love cars. Someday, I might consider moving out to the burbs and buying a place with a giant garage. What about you? Since you’re a vegetarian, I’m going to guess you own one of those electric cars.”

  “Are you calling me a tree hugger?”

  “Not yet…”

  I laugh. “I don’t mind cars—I just hate driving.”

  “No.” He looks at me with squinted eyes, as though my words cause him physical pain.

  I nod. “I do. I hate traffic. The bicyclists always make me nervous, and the pedestrians don’t pay attention. After twenty minutes behind the wheel, I need a masseuse and a Xanax.”

  “I’m waiting to read more about this on a blog post.”

  I glance at him as we stop at a corner. “You’ve been reading my blog?”

  He nods. “I had to make sure you committed to the right team. You scared me a little since you kept cheering for both sides.”

  My cheeks grow warm as I try to recall what I wrote about the baseball game—I had mentioned Levi, since the kiss is practically all I can remember about it now. The crosswalk turns, and we follow a stream of people across the street.

  “How is reinventing yourself going, by the way?”

  “Good. Good,” I repeat the word, trying to think of another adjective or response. “Felicity and I went and tried yoga for the first time last week, and I’m still feeling it.”

  “I saw that. I wasn’t going to mention it because I feel a bit like a stalker admitting I know what you did without you telling me, but since you brought it up…” We both chuckle, and though it begins as something borderline uncomfortable, it quickly transitions into an unabashed laugh that makes me wish I’d shaved my legs this morning.

  “What’s your next first?”

  “I’m taking myself to dinner and a movie.”

  Blue eyes light. “Really?”

  “I figure it’s equally important to do simple things I’ve avoided doing since becoming single. I mean, why shouldn’t I go out to a restaurant? Why not go to the movies? The only person who’s likely going to notice I’m there alone is me.”

  “What else is on your list?”

  “I’m going to take a weekend trip in a couple of weeks to Tennessee. But that’s really the only big thing I have planned. I didn’t really know what I was going to blog about originally. I mean, I had some general ideas, but the purpose was just to help force me out of my routine of going to work and home every day. I didn’t really have a bucket list to complete.”

  “People are responding to you though. You only have a few posts, and already people are commenting. That’s huge. I won’t tell you how hard our PR person tried to gain a following for one of our clubs.”

  I look to Levi in question. “Would it be inappropriate to ask how many bars and clubs you own?”

  “Five bars and two clubs.”

  I begin to rake a hand through my hair, stopping when my fingers collide with the bun, contemplating this new information. “I don’t understand why your mom thinks you need our services for a grand opening. I mean, at this point, you’re a pro.”

  Levi grins but doesn’t respond. I wonder if he realizes how useless hiring me is.

  We only have to walk another block to reach the first stop on our short list of bars in the area.

  Inside, the walls are dark, and the ceiling is covered with espresso-colored wood that shines from a large light fixture made up of three giant circles on the ceiling, emitting a soft glow. The high pub tables are made of sleek marble, and the large bar that travels the length of the room is comprised of more polished wood. Soft music tickles my ears, causing me to focus in order to hear it.

  Levi shakes his head. “No.”

  “Should we get a drink? Maybe see if there’s anything redeeming about it? Chelsea personally recommended this one.”

  He doesn’t move from the door as his gaze travels around the room. “This place has no personality. The bartenders look bored and likely don’t know the difference between a single malt and a grain whiskey. This is the kind of place you take someone when you want to go over a business contract or host a board meeting.”

  I lift a shoulder with a small shrug. “Let’s keep going, then.”

  Levi quickly grabs the door, pulling it open. “Did Chelsea recommend all of these stops?”

  “No. Most of the ones she wants us to see are near your bar.”

  He nods but again doesn’t reply as we continue walking farther from Glitter and Gold. “Why did you and your ex break up?”

  My thoughts shuffle from Chelsea to his blue eyes that keep looking at me as though he’s expecting me to flee to Gabe—which brings an entire onslaught of memories. The multitude of thoughts has me flustered and caught off guard. “He liked someone else.”

  “He liked someone else, so he broke things off?”

  “Kind of.”

  “How long were you guys dating?”

  “Six years.”

  “Six years? And he threw that away because he thought he might like someone else?”

  I shrug. “Maybe he loves her?”

  We stop at another crosswalk, and Levi faces me. The skin between his eyes bunches as his gaze scrutinizes me. “I thought I was the vague one.”

  I sigh, looking away because as hard as I’ve worked to rationalize that it’s not my fault Gabe cheated, I’m still embarrassed to admit the truth. “He was having an affair.” I furrow my brow. “Is it called an affair when you’re not married? It is, right? I mean, it’s the same principle.” I shrug. “Cheating?” I try the word.

  “What a bastard.”

  I shrug again. “I know this sounds stupid and weird, but I’ve had a difficult time hating him.”

  His brow hardens. “Do you want to be with him still?”

  I quickly shake my head. “No.”

  Levi’s eyes round with question, like my reaction was too hasty or brief to be genuine.

  “Really,” I tell him. “I don’t. It’s just been different. I never really thought about if we were on course for anything. My brother’s girlfriend mentioned last week that she wasn’t surprised we broke up because we never discussed kids or marriage, and I’d never thought about it. That sounds ridiculous because I plan weddings and had never considered it. I just assumed we would one day … someday. I think we both became complacent and we started to become like roommates rather than a couple.”

  “You think what he did was okay?” Irritation lines his voice.

  “Of course not. What he did was selfish and…” I shake my head and take a deep breath, feeling the consequences of our breakup far more than I can explain them.

  “He sounds like a douchebag.”

  “He is,” I tell him. “He broke up with me after I caught him sleeping with her in our bed. He’s a total douche. And I hate him for it, but it still sucks that I lost one of my best friends. I think that’s what makes the breakup the hardest. Not that I’m not with him, just that I trusted him. I respected him.”

  “You walked in on them?” His chin juts forward.
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  “And then he broke up with me.”

  “Motherfucker.” There’s a fury in his eyes and tone that tells me this isn’t his first time hearing or dealing with someone who’s cheated.

  “What happened with your ex?”

  His blue eyes narrow, and his jaw flexes. “She cheated as well. More times than I want to know about. God, can’t anyone be original these days and break up for another reason?” He cracks a smile, but there’s still tension in his jaw.

  “My parents eventually got divorced because they hated each other. But as far as I know, they were faithful.”

  Levi smiles, but it’s not genuine or even forced—it looks like an automatic response. Slowly, his eyes focus on me, and he dips his chin. “Do you still see your parents?”

  “Once in a blue moon, generally on a national holiday like Christmas or the Fourth of July. They don’t call anymore, so it’s not as awkward. Now that they can text or send me an email, that seems to suffice for them. Score one for parenting.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  I shake my head. “I miss the idea of them sometimes, but even when they were around, they never paid attention to me. They were too busy trying to find constant happiness and entertainment. They were like ADHD for cheap thrills. Give them bad music, a large crowd, and cheap liquor, and they were happy, but if they had four walls and no one around, they were miserable.”

  Levi’s lips dip with a frown, making me regret my admission.

  “This next location has a really high rating online. Lots of people like it.”

  He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then stops and smiles again, following me to the next location.

  The inside of the second bar has a warmer feel. Yellow lights glow from every pub table, and the shelves of alcohol behind the bar are lit with elegant sconces. A wall of windows brings in lots of natural light, preventing it from feeling seedy or dark.

  I turn to Levi to see his reaction and find him already looking at me. “What do you think?” I ask. “This place seems warmer. Cozier.”

  “That’s the carpet,” he says.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Ready to go?”

  He nods.

  The streets are becoming more crowded, making our lack of conversation as we trek to the next location comfortable.

  Once again, Levi opens the door, waiting for me to go inside before following me. The place is busier than the other two but still fairly slow. The bar is lit a bright blue, matching the panels between the rows of alcohol. I don’t bother looking at the other details because, once again, Levi hasn’t moved away from the door.

  “You hate it?” I guess.

  He shrugs. “I don’t hate any of them. I just don’t like them. This is what everyone wants me to do—expects me to do. They expected it with the new club where we met, too.” He shrugs. “But I don’t like fads, and these blue-and-yellow lights are all a bunch of fads that will only cost several thousands in renovations in a couple of years.” The mention of the club we met at pushes my stomach over a cliff and leaves my thoughts spinning as I recall that night.

  “You shouldn’t listen to the advice you’re getting. That club was packed and had a line around the block when we were there.”

  “You waited in line?”

  “Well, I considered taking your bouncer out with my mad kung fu skills, but I didn’t want to get my dress dirty.”

  Levi grins. “Always the smartass. You and Felicity should come back. We’ll give you ladies the VIP treatment to make up for the line.”

  “I wasn’t complaining. I was simply pointing out that you obviously know how to run and operate a successful club. I don’t know why anyone would be giving you advice.”

  “Their 40 percent share probably makes them feel a little entitled.”

  “Forty shmorty,” I scoff.

  Levi thankfully reads my sarcasm and laughs. “I did like the flooring of the last place though.”

  “The stone look?”

  He nods. “They were tiles, but they looked like slate.”

  A group of teenagers chases each other, laughing as they brush past us on the sidewalk. I edge closer to Levi to avoid being run into, and an elderly couple walks on his other side, their strides slow and unsteady, which has Levi shifting to give them more space. One of the teens bumps into me, and Levi wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me even closer to him. It’s intoxicating being this close to him, feeling the warmth emanating from his chest, smelling his cologne, his grip on my skin that once again embeds another impression. Our gazes meet, and like at the baseball game, the world ceases to exist—the noise, the people, the reason we’re making this trek across town—it all disappears as my focus shifts from his rounded lips to intense blue eyes. My instincts say he wants to kiss me, though my mind doubts the validity. That question is muffled as the memory of our kiss floods my thoughts, creating an ache that reaches every last cell in my body.

  Your job.

  His mother.

  Chelsea.

  He’s your client.

  Objections line up one after the other and fall subsequently with each passing second as I lean closer to him, realizing how it’s felt like I’ve been holding my breath since the last time we kissed, and right now I’m desperate to breathe again.

  His gaze travels across my face. I wish I knew the secrets behind them—could translate the expressiveness they often reveal when he chooses to remain silent. He raises a hand, tucking stray hairs behind my ear. His touch is so gentle, so warm, that I lean into it. Levi swallows, his jaw flexing. He leans closer, his hand still touching me, cradling my jaw. I lick my lips and tilt my chin higher.

  “Levi! Brooke!”

  My heart stutters, and I blink several times as our names are repeated.

  Levi shakes his head, his stare intent as he keeps his attention on me. He brushes his thumb across my cheekbone with one gentle swipe, and then his touch and close proximity fall as he turns to face Chelsea.

  28

  Chelsea’s cheeks are flushed, pulled up into a wide smile.

  “I can’t believe I ran into you guys! I was just about to call and see where you guys were so I could meet you, and suddenly I saw you! It’s fate, I tell you.” She looks between me and Levi before her gaze settles on him. “How are you? Have you guys looked at any of the locations I sent?”

  My entire body is tense. Annoyance and jealousy mingling with resentment and a shot of embarrassment that has me even more annoyed. I tell myself I have no reason to feel embarrassed, and yet the sensation doesn’t dissipate. I wonder what she saw. What she thinks she saw. She had to have known we were about to kiss—it wouldn’t have taken more than a glance in our direction. We were stopped, our bodies leaning toward one another. His fingers were tangled in my hair as we worked to drown out the world and our responsibilities. I work to focus on Levi’s response when Chelsea’s eyes flicker to me. I recognize the immediate jealousy that leaves her gaze wide, but it’s the underlying sorrow in her eyes that makes my shoulders grow rigid.

  “I didn’t realize you were joining us,” I say, realizing for the first time how annoyed others are as they work to move around us on the sidewalk.

  “I had some extra time, and thought I’d extend my services since we’re going to be under the gun with this design.”

  Levi’s smile pulls my attention away from Chelsea. “You don’t have to feel obligated. I was just telling Brooke that I’ve decided on the flooring. I think this will be easier than we were expecting.”

  “Perfect. Well, let’s continue, and maybe we’ll make your bar the fastest makeover in history. Shall we?” She smiles and extends an arm, directing us farther westward.

  “It’s such a beautiful evening,” Chelsea says.

  I nod.

  Levi glances toward the sky, which is often overshadowed by the massive glass-and-concrete buildings that line so much of the city.

  “I heard it’s supposed to rain this weekend,�
� she adds.

  “Yeah, I saw that, too.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, tracing a line similar to the one Levi had drawn across my skin, making the shift in our moods and conversation even more obvious.

  “Which location are we headed to next?” she asks.

  “The Sidecar,” I tell her.

  “I haven’t been there yet.” Chelsea rubs her lips together, the red shine of her lipstick the perfect shade to complement her dark hair.

  I don’t mention we haven’t been to any of the places on my list.

  When we reach the Sidecar, Levi holds the door open. I pass by with a quiet thank-you, stopping inside like we have at the previous stops.

  “You’re such a gentleman,” Chelsea says, following me inside. “It’s good to know chivalry isn’t dead.” She passes me and goes directly to the bar, where she turns and waves us forward.

  I want to grumble about her being here, about how we’ve managed fine, and about how we’ve already established a routine, but I follow her to the bar. Chelsea grabs a short menu and slides it so we can all look over it as the bartender approaches us.

  “Can I help you?” she asks. The woman is wearing a plain, black T-shirt, her short, blond hair in a twist at the back of her head with several strands falling around her face. She’s beautiful in a natural, unassuming way.

  “What do you have on tap?” Chelsea asks.

  The bartender quickly lists the beers off, offering suggestions for different tastes.

  “Thank you. Could we have a moment?” Chelsea asks.

  With a smile, the bartender moves down and begins unloading clean glasses.

  Chelsea turns to us. “How many beers have the other places had on tap?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “I hadn’t even thought to ask.” Admitting this has me quickly realizing how little I know about bars, sparking that bit of uncertainty about my qualifications for this role.

  Chelsea smiles widely, her eyes bright, bordering on being patronizing.

  Thankfully, my phone rings before my injured pride reaches my mouth. “I’m sorry. I have to get this,” I say, stepping away from the bar and moving toward the entrance.