The Fallback

by Dietz, Mariah

  “I care,” I tell him. “I care about my job and your mother’s respect, whether that’s stupid or ridiculous or whatever. I care.”

  Levi’s hand slips along my jaw, the heat of his touch seeping past my skin to my nerves, slowly calming me though I work to fight it. “It’s going to be fine. I promise. I’ll talk to her.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll talk to her. I think she’ll be more bothered if I don’t have this conversation with her.”

  “We could do it together?”

  I sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

  He slides his hand higher, his fingers mixing into my hair. “She thinks the world of you. She just doesn’t know how to show it. Don’t worry. And regardless of my mother’s opinion, I think the world of you. This grand opening is going to be a success, and so is the bar. I am dying for it to be over so I can hire you for another project that doesn’t exist so I can get a couple of hours on your calendar three times a week.”

  “You only want to see me three days a week now?”

  Levi’s fingers constrict around my waist, and he smiles. “Andrea won’t let me book more than three. I’ve tried.”

  “The one time I want you to be more like your mother and use your influences…”

  He chuckles, and the sound soothes the remainder of my nerves. “You’re amazing,” he says. Then his lips press against my temple, and my forehead, and my nose, and finally my mouth, breathing confidence into me.

  Chelsea is at the bar when I arrive, straightening bottles of whiskey.

  “Morning,” I call.

  She turns, a smile on her lips. After she sent the email with price quotes to me and CC’d Levi, he’d replied, telling her it was my decision. Since that time, she’s attempted to meet with him no less than a dozen times, and he’s rejected each invitation. I know his intention wasn’t to create tension in my relationship with her, but it has. Each time he calls me or I mention his name, her eyes shoot daggers at me. Still, I’m hoping we can recover from this, but if not, it will be her decision.

  My phone beeps with a message, and I glance down and see a message from Felicity.

  Felicity: What time should Dan and I arrive? Want us to come early so we can help set up?

  Felicity: Are you sure I shouldn’t wear something more fancy? A grand opening seems important.

  Me: You guys are guests. You arrive at 6 like everyone else. Though you might want to arrive 30 minutes early so you can get a good parking spot. And by good, I mean free.

  Me: And don’t worry about what you’re wearing. People will be dressed in all sorts of attire.

  Felicity: If you need me to bring anything, let me know.

  Me: Thanks. Love you.

  Felicity: You’re a rock star!!!

  I take a deep breath, searching for confidence once again, and begin prepping the final details of the grand opening.

  Catherine arrives moments before Levi’s due, and though my doubts have diminished throughout the day, they return like a hailstorm the moment she steps inside. She stands near the entrance, her gaze drifting across the high pub tables made of marble and the wooden booths, over the stretches of dark tile and the low-light chandeliers to me. A smile slowly curves her lips, and she walks closer to me, a small gift bag in her hand.

  “I can see you in this place,” she tells me.

  The comment confuses me because Catherine had never been to my house to see what my style looks like, but I don’t mention this to her. “I’m a little nervous,” I admit.

  She pulls her chin back. “Why?”

  “I’m concerned there are too many themes. Neighborhood bar, themed bar, upscale bar…” I run a hand over my hair.

  A smirk teases her lips. “You’ve done exceptionally well.”

  Sweat has my palms itching as I attempt to read her mood. Is she happy? Pleased? Is this a trap?

  “What is she doing here?”

  I turn in the direction Catherine is glaring and see Chelsea setting out more glasses.

  “She’s been instrumental,” I tell her. “Truly.”

  Catherine sighs heavily, her displeasure clear. “I’m still not hiring her again.”

  My phone rings, and Selena’s name appears on my screen.

  “Oh no,” Catherine says, glancing at my phone and then at me. “The Gilbert wedding is tomorrow, isn’t it?”

  I nod and answer.

  “Brooke, I need your help. The bride has locked herself in the bathroom at the rehearsal and is totally wasted.”

  I scrub a hand across my forehead. “Have you tried getting the maid of honor or the mother of the bride?”

  “The maid of honor is also drunk, and the mother keeps crying. It’s a shitshow.”

  I glance at Catherine and then the bar. “Okay, I’m close. I can be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I owe you. I owe you so big.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon.”

  “What’s going on?” Catherine asks.

  I suck in a deep breath. “This bride might not be worth what we’re charging her.”

  “They rarely are.”

  A laugh breaks through my tension. “I need to go help her. Chelsea has this handled. I should be back before guests start arriving.”

  Catherine waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. This is going to be flawless—I can tell. Take your time.”

  Disappointment sits heavily in my heart as I slowly walk to my car, hoping Levi arrives in the next few moments so I can see him before I leave. Sadly, he doesn’t, and I head across town, stopping at a convenience store for water, crackers, and a tray of coffees before heading off to sober up a bride.

  40

  Felicity: Where are you?

  Me: Almost there. Drunkzilla threw up on me, so I had to stop and buy a new dress.

  Felicity: Catherine looks nervous.

  Me: Thanks for calming my nerves.

  Felicity: It’s just a heads up.

  Me: I’ll be there in 10.

  I honk at the car in front of me and grumble again. I’ve never been late to an event, and while Catherine and others from the team are there to ensure things go off without a hitch, this event means more because of Levi.

  I pay fifty dollars to park and then run in my heels the three blocks to get to the bar, my breaths too fast and my hair flat as I reach the bar. The exterior has been cleaned, a new handrail installed that has planter boxes which are overflowing with greenery and clear fairy lights. A plaque is attached near the door, matte black with gold letters. It looks classy and subtle, much like Levi.

  “You’re good. You made it,” Andrea says, holding open the front door for me. “Everything is perfect. People didn’t even blink at spending forty dollars to park, and everyone is raving about the food and how great it looks. They love it.” Her smile gives me an assurance her words can’t, because it’s genuine. There have only been a few occasions Andrea has participated in helping, but with this being Catherine’s son and us being short on staff, it’s all hands on deck tonight.

  “The music’s working? And the air? It’s not too hot?”

  Andrea shakes her head, pushing her glasses up higher. “It’s perfect. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  I release a deep breath, my shoulders falling with the assurance. “How’s Catherine doing?”

  She waves a hand, but her smile falters. “Don’t worry about her. Not tonight.”

  I draw my chin back. “Did something happen?”

  Andrea quickly shakes her head. “No. Nothing like that. She’s just … frazzled. She’s been looking all over for you. I’m supposed to call her when you arrive.”

  “That’s not a good sign. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  She nods. “I think she’s just overwhelmed. She doesn’t know if she should be wearing her mom hat or business owner hat or sales hat.”

  I nod, swiping at my hair. “Yeah,” I say. “You’re probably right.”

 
; Andrea grabs my wrist before I can run my fingers over my hair again. “You look great. Why don’t you go find a drink and some of those appetizers? I’ll give you a ten-minute buffer before calling Catherine to let her know you’ve arrived.”

  “This place is small. She’ll likely see me.”

  She shrugs. “It’s busy and she’s distracted. It’s worth a shot.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiles in return. It’s warm and friendly, exposing a kinship that makes me hesitate a moment to reciprocate the expression.

  Inside, the bar is packed. The lights are brighter than they’ll be on a normal night when we’re not trying to show off how shiny and new everything is. Music streams quietly from the speakers, and I recognize the song instantly as something chosen by Levi.

  People are chatting and drinking and eating, smiling as they mill around the space. It looked beautiful yesterday, but somehow it looks even better with people inside and bartenders wielding bottles, making the set concoctions.

  A voice clears, and the music stops. It’s a woman’s voice. Panic has me wading through a group of people who stop and turn toward the sound as well. I pray Catherine didn’t find a microphone.

  My breath catches in my throat, shock nailing me to the floor. Gabe’s standing in the middle of the room, his arm around his new girlfriend—the woman he left me for—who’s holding the microphone as the audience begins to clap and whistle. My confusion draws me closer, questioning why they’re here and how I didn’t know that they would be. I planned this event. Every name on every invitation went through me.

  “I know you all prefer when Levi has the mic because he enjoys making bad business decisions like opening the bar or promising you VIP passes and invites to dinner—which, by the way, he never—ever—cashes in.” She raises a delicate finger, her nails polished a pale shade of pink. “Seriously, never cashes in on, so don’t hold your breath.” The audience laughs. “But because my business partner has endured opening this location all by himself while I’ve been in the midst of planning my wedding”— she pauses again, this time to look at Gabe with adoration, earning more whistles from the raucous crowd—“I thought I’d give him a break and save us a few thousand dollars.” She winks, owning the reaction of everyone in here—everyone except for me because I can’t stop staring at her and Gabe, the memory of finding them having sex in my bed cutting into the present scene like flashbacks from a bad dream. I’m too hot, and I’m pretty sure that has to do with the tightness in my chest that’s preventing me from being able to breathe.

  “I want to thank you all for coming out tonight, and joining us as we celebrate this new bar. I…”

  I stop listening. My thoughts are hazy because my emotions are so strong—emotions that I’m feverishly working to suppress and control.

  I shrug past several people, my head down as I ignore the responsibility of finding Catherine or Levi, of ensuring things are going as expected and without any delays. I ignore that the mic should be turned down and the air up and make my way back toward the entrance.

  Andrea’s face falls as she sees me, and her mouth opens. I know she’s going to ask me if I’m okay, but I also know I can’t talk right now. I shake my head as I pass her.

  “Can I?” she begins. “Want me to walk you? Get a cab?”

  I shake my head again. “I’m okay,” I have to look away because the concern that has her brow pulled low, causes a flood of tears to burn my eyes.

  I don’t see faces as I pass people on the sidewalk. All I can focus on is the pain in my chest. It feels as though my heart was fileted open. Like my lungs have been punctured. Betrayal sits on my shoulders like a led weight, urging me to run away and to go back to the bar and confront Levi, all at the same time.

  When I reach my car, my face is wet from tears, and my cheeks are stained with mascara and eyeliner. I use my palms to wipe at the mess, pulling in another breath and holding it to gain composure. My heartbeats are loud and violent in my chest. Without the distraction and focus of reaching my car, my thoughts slip back to the bar, hearing that woman’s voice, seeing her smile from her spot beside Gabe.

  Levi’s business partner.

  Gabe’s fiancée.

  How?

  How is the world so small that this could have happened?

  More importantly, why didn’t anyone tell me?

  My shoulders shudder, and my heart breaks, and then the tears multiply, falling so fast, they coat my cheeks with hot paths that feel cool as they fall from my jaw. I don’t even attempt to wipe at them or stop.

  My phone rings in my purse, sparking anger. It’s likely Catherine, wondering where in the hell I am. Realization has my anger growing. She knew. She likely knew all along.

  I tear through my purse, digging for my phone before it stops ringing, discovering it is indeed Catherine. I want to answer and scream at her, but instead silence the call and throw it at my passenger door with enough force that it bounces back and nearly hits the middle console. Then I hit the steering wheel and scream. It feels good and terrible. Nice to release some of this pain and anger, and awful because I realize how it’s consuming me.

  I cry with no intention of stopping. Tears of frustration and pain, guilt and sorrow. My nose is running, my eyes and cheeks are swollen, and my head aches when I finally stop. I don’t want to be in this dress. I don’t want to be in these heels. I just want to lie down and sleep for a week.

  I consider going to Grammy’s, but even Grammy is bound to ask me questions with how I look. I pray that Felicity and Dan are still at the grand opening, and I can slip past them and lock myself in the guestroom. I can send her a text and tell her I’m not feeling well, and face her tomorrow.

  The plan allows me to breathe a little easier. I pull my hair out of my face with an elastic, and use some tissues to blow my nose and wipe at my smeared makeup. Then, glance around twice before backing up to ensure I don’t hit anyone.

  The ride home goes by in a blur. Images of Levi over the past couple of months playing a dangerous game of Russian Roulette with my mood and emotions. Some of the memories barely cause a reaction, while others make me choke on a new flood of tears. I shove thoughts of him aside and think of Gabe, wondering what he thought. Did he know about Levi and me? He had to have. Then I wonder what their interactions were like. What they thought of one another.

  When I get home to Felicity’s, I take my shoes off as I get out of the car, my thoughts and emotions tethered by my refusal to cry another tear over Gabe. He didn’t deserve the previous ones and certainly doesn’t deserve more.

  The door opens before I reach the stoop. Felicity stands before me with her arms open wide. “I’ve been calling you.”

  I take a deep breath, steeling myself and my emotions. “Sorry. I silenced it.”

  She nods, stepping outside to meet me. “I was trying to catch you. I saw you leaving, and wanted to drive you home, because…” Her words trail off. “I’m so sorry, Books. I’m so sorry.” She hugs me, and as much as I don’t want to, I lean into her, needing the support and comfort she freely extends.

  My efforts to remain unaffected and impartial break as she holds me tighter, breaking the dam of emotions inside of me open once again. My shoes slip from my fingers, falling to the front stoop with a crash I don’t hear over the eruption of my tears.

  Felicity’s fingertips press against my back as she pulls me closer. “She’s his business partner?”

  I shake my head, unable to get words past the same lump that’s been in my throat since I saw Gabe and his fiancée. Tears stream down my face in hot paths, and my shoulders bob with cries. Felicity holds me tight, running a hand through my hair like I’ve seen her do with Gemma when she’s upset—something she’s done for me since we were kids. My best friend has always had mothering tendencies: reminding me to bring a sweater, asking me if I was hungry, focusing on my education and later on my needs, confirming I was addressing things for my mental and emotional health. She has a
million positive attributes, but her ability to care for others and her compassion are two of the things I’m most envious about. I hope that if I ever have children, I’ll be just like her.

  As my tears wane, Felicity’s hold doesn’t loosen, not for several more moments. Then she pulls back, running a hand down my arm and capturing my hand. She tugs me inside, directing us into the living room. We stop at the overstuffed sofa that faces the TV. She only turns away long enough to grab a box of tissues. Stray tears continue streaming down my face as I sit beside her, gathering my thoughts.

  “Did Levi know he was your ex?” Her voice is timid and soft.

  “He had to. I mean, he met Gabe. That night I got the flat tire on my way to Tennessee.”

  “Wow.” Felicity wipes a hand down her face and pulls in a deep breath. “And he didn’t say anything about it?”

  I shake my head, the movement a small, lazy shift because my head is throbbing from crying.

  “Brooke … I…”

  I work to give her a small smile, something that offers her reassurance because I know my best friend is feeling as much guilt as she is anger. “I’m not mad.” The skin between my eyes grows tight as my brow furrows with thought. “Okay, I am mad, but I don’t want to be. I’m done being sad and mad. I’ve decided I’m going to accept the job. I’m moving to California.”

  Felicity pauses, her eyes growing in size. “You should wait until morning. Make sure this decision isn’t because of them and is solely about you and what you want.”

  “I will. But it just seems right. You talk about these signs from the universe all the time, and if there was ever a sign, this would be it. I’ve been given the opportunity to walk away clean. I’ll make more money, I’ll be doing something I love, and it gives me a clean break from Catherine and Gabe and Levi.”