The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  She let the warm spray of the shower wash away parts of her hangover and the sticky sunscreen from the day before. When their eyes had locked, and his lips had been moving toward hers… they had, right? She couldn’t have imagined that.

  It had sparked a curiosity in her, a kind she’d never felt until now. What would kissing Ryan be like?

  Looking back on it, it was strange they’d never kissed before. After all, they’d had the perfect teen romcom setup. Best friends in high school, the nerdy boy who got hot and popular, and the girl next door who he finally sees as more than a friend.

  Maybe it was just too weird to even consider. She got dressed on autopilot, yanked up the faded scrubs and shuffled into her ugly orthopedic shoes. Wait, it’s Friday. Friday! She was off rounds today for the first time since she'd scored this internship. Having Fridays off was reserved for the seasoned interns. Maybe that was her now.

  I wonder what Ryan’s doing right now.

  Guilt started to creep over her. An incessant, nagging voice in her head reminded her of Will. That’s your boyfriend! He’s the one you should be thinking about kissing.

  She punched Will’s name into Facetime before she could talk herself out of it. “Hey!” she said when his face filled the screen. “How are you? I’m—”

  “Can’t talk much right now,” he said. “I’m on my way to a coffee date with another writer. James? Remember I told you about him? He’s a big deal here. And, well, everywhere.”

  “James, yeah, sure,” she said. The name didn’t sound familiar at all.

  “It’s been crazy here, but in a good way,” he said. He talked to her in that formal voice he usually reserved for her friends he didn’t like. Which was all of them.

  “How so? Are you managing to do any sightseeing?”

  “Sightseeing? Really, Poppy?” he asked with disgust.

  “Sorry. It’s just I’ve never been. I figured it would be cool to—”

  “This is a work trip, not a vacation.”

  “I know that.”

  “But I’ve gotten some good feedback from people I’ve met with. Lots of feelers out there.” Feelers?

  “That’s great! Yeah, I’m—”

  “Oh, hey, I have to go now. I think I see him.”

  “Okay, call me—”

  She stopped when she realized it was dead air. Poppy pursed her lips and tossed her phone on her bed. He’s so self-absorbed! How had she never noticed before? He didn’t even ask how she was.

  Why did it even matter? It’s not like you’re going to tell him about the almost kiss with Ryan, for crying out loud. Will was already crazy jealous. But in his defense, it wasn't like he was the first. Most of her boyfriends had been jealous of Ryan. She hadn’t dated a lot, but the few casual relationships she'd had always involved a jealous argument or two at some point.

  Will was just the first one who wasn’t totally wrong. She’d never thought about Ryan like that in the past, but now… now was different.

  A tiny piece of her wanted to know what sleeping with Ryan would be like. Kissing him would be close, but not quite close enough. What’s wrong with you? You’ve never wanted to have sex with anyone before!

  To distract herself, she buried herself in chores. It had been weeks since she’d done any kind of cleaning, and maybe her mom was right after all—it did feel therapeutic. Cathartic, even.

  When her phone started to chirp, she was annoyed at how easy it was to break that cleaning-induced meditative state. It’s probably Will, wanting to brag about his super successful coffee date.

  “Shut up!” she yelled to her phone, but it persisted.

  Finally, she grabbed the phone to see what the fuss was all about. Poppy, why aren’t you answering? It was a text from Ryan. I’m really sorry about yesterday.

  She sat down on her bed and composed reply after reply. Nothing sounded right.

  Take you and Sarah to lunch to make up for it?

  Poppy smiled and shot back a yes with a smiley face.

  El Pajaro Azul in one hour, he replied.

  She couldn’t help but dress up for the occasion. It would be the first time… the first time for what? For Ryan to see her in something besides wrinkled jeans, T-shirts, and a borrowed bathing suit?

  Why not? She deserved to pamper herself from time to time, too. Besides, it had been months since she’d worn anything besides medical scrubs and jeans. She pulled on a coral, strappy maxi dress and wiggled on her wedge heels. It was casual, but eye catching. And she’d surely blend right in.

  As she strolled through the extravagant entryway of the restaurant, she realized the last time she'd been here it was different. The new owners had really pulled out all the stops. The grand foyer spilled over with exotic plants, and she spotted a small mariachi band serenading table after table. In the center, right behind the hostess stand, a massive cage of blue parrots fluttered and squawked.

  “Reservations?” the hostess asked.

  “Um,” she began, but spotted Ryan and Sarah already seated in an intimate, half-circular booth, cuddled side by side. “Yeah, my friends are over there,” she said.

  As she approached, her stomach began flipping. Stop it, she commanded, and forced the feeling aside.

  “P!” Sarah said, and jumped up to hug her. “I heard the party was banging. I’m sorry I missed it.” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.

  “Oh, yeah, you actually didn’t miss much,” she said as she sat down and smoothed the dress beneath her. “The drinking and sugary mixers and the sun—I had a terrible headache this morning.”

  “You just need more practice,” Sarah said with a wink and grabbed a tortilla strip.

  “Everyone ready to order?” the waiter asked, pen poised above a pad.

  “Poppy just got here,” Sarah said.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m ready,” she said. She always ordered the same thing at Mexican restaurants—one chile relleno and a cheese enchilada.

  Sarah ordered the seafood combination, and Ryan was briefly torn between two different grande combination platters. “I’ll just take them both,” he told the waiter as he snapped the menu shut.

  “Both, Señor? You sure? I can have the kitchen box one to go—”

  “I’ll take both,” Ryan repeated.

  When the entrees arrived, they all dug into their food, and Ryan took up half the table with his order as usual. “This boy can seriously eat,” Sarah told Poppy. As if she had to. “I’m scared to ever cook for him; I don’t know if I could afford all the ingredients!” Ryan just shrugged and scooped another helping of rice and beans onto a chip.

  Sarah laughed and put her hand on his knee. Poppy saw his reaction—he sat bolt upright and stopped eating. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said and made a beeline for the restrooms.

  Sarah frowned at Poppy. “Do you think I’m coming on too strong? I mean, I know I can be assertive. Or aggressive, or whatever. I don’t want to scare him off…”

  “No, no,” Poppy said to reassure her. “Actually… I don’t know.” She didn’t want to be put in the middle, or suddenly be considered the go-between for them.

  Sarah laughed. “You know him better than anyone! At least stateside. Come on, you’re his bestie. His BFF.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know,” Poppy said as she set her fork down. “He’s… I don’t know. He’s different now that he’s come back.” She didn’t want to tell Sarah what kind of different, or that she’d started to notice how hot he was.

  “Huh. Well, I guess I’ll either figure it out… or I won’t,” Sarah said. She picked up her margarita and licked a touch of salt from the rim.

  “So, tell me. What’s up with work? I heard you have crazy hours.” Poppy was desperate to change the subject.

  “Oh my God, seriously. These clients are driving me insane. The whole digital era thing really just means you work around the clock.”

  “Yeah. I get that,” Poppy said.

  “Oh, sorry. I mean not like you, no
t like a doctor or anything.” Sarah fumbled to fix her mistake.

  “No, it’s fine,” Poppy said. She smiled and picked up her own margarita. “I didn’t—sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like your work is any less stressful than mine. Actually, honestly, I’m not even sure exactly what it is you do!”

  “That makes two of us!” Sarah said. “It’s boring to explain, but it’s a whole lot of bullshitting with clients. And clients in the fashion industry are the biggest assholes. How’s your drink?”

  “Not bad, actually,” Poppy said. She looked down, and it was half gone. At first when Sarah had pressured her to drink, she’d resisted, and just the thought of alcohol made her feel sick after yesterday. But apparently, it was true what they said. A little hair of the dog does work wonders. “I wasn’t trying to act all holier than thou or anything with the job. I blame sleep deprivation.”

  “Or a hangover,” Sarah said. “Hangovers can be a bitch.”

  “Yeah, or that! I haven’t drank like that in years,” Poppy said. “I don’t know what got into me. Just—I guess I had a lot of partying to get out of my system.”

  “Girl, you deserve it. I mean, you’ve been either studying or working your entire life. You’re young! You’re hot! You deserve to let loose more often. Give that coochie of yours some action from time to time, you know?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m lucky I’m not on rounds today. There’s no way I could have gone in and been even partially conscious. My liver isn’t what it used to be.”

  As the mariachi band approached, a tube of red roses attached to one of the guitars, Poppy just had one thought. She couldn’t wait for this lunch to be over.

  One of the guitarists handed each of them a rose, and they both shook their heads no violently. “Do they think we’re on a date?” Sarah whispered to her.

  “No rose?” the boy asked. He looked hurt.

  “Yes, roses!” Ryan slid back into the booth. “One for each of my hot dates here.”

  Poppy blushed and Sarah laughed. The boy didn’t say anything about money, but clearly made the “donation” bucket attached to his strap known.

  Ryan glanced at what was already in there—only fives, tens and twenties. He plucked a twenty from his wallet and tucked it in.

  “Ryan!” Poppy said.

  “Yeah, they're the most expensive roses I’ve ever bought, but it’s worth it,” he said. “How many guys can say they’re on a date with the two most beautiful girls in town, huh?”

  Sarah giggled and rested her head on Ryan’s shoulder. Poppy held the rose awkwardly as the band moved to another table. What do I do with it now? Put it in my water cup? The petals were already dying, and it smelled like nothing but Mexican food.

  “You don’t have to keep it,” Ryan said. She was embarrassed. He’d caught her unawares.

  “It’s fine,” she insisted. I just don’t know what to do with it.

  “Here,” he said, and took it from her. With a snap, he removed the stem and all the thorns, leaving just a two-inch piece at the base of the flower. He tucked it behind her ear. “Que linda!” he said with a smile.

  She reached up and touched the flower in her hair.

  “Do me,” Sarah said immediately, and handed her own rose to Ryan. He obliged, and trimmed off the excess stem with a snap.

  “Do we look like Frida Kahlo?” she asked him.

  “Uh, I personally don’t think Frida Kahlo was very attractive, so… ”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “I mean the Salma Hayek version of Frida Kahlo.”

  “In that case, yes. Hell yes,” he said.

  10

  Ryan

  “Hey man, what’s up?” Mason still sounded half asleep, but it was nearly noon.

  “Nothing much,” Ryan said. “I’m back in town, wanted to see if you’re up for grabbing a beer.”

  “No shit. Back for good, you mean? Discharged?”

  “Yeah. Bum knee. Been around too much estrogen since I’ve been here.”

  Mason laughed. “I’m headed to a pickup game in a couple hours at Kalorama. You can join, it’s just a few guys from work.”

  “Work, huh?” Ryan said. “Full-on civilian lifestyle now.”

  “Yeah,” Mason said gruffly. “I went the private security route after my discharge. It’s good, it’s cool. See you at two?”

  “See you, ” Ryan said. Pickup games during their downtime at training was how he and Mason had first started hanging out. Ryan pulled on an old muscle tee and jersey shorts. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd gotten a sweat on just for kicks.

  “Ryan, this is Mike, Hakeem, Javi and Curtis,” Mason said. Ryan nodded at them. Even now, at the modest neighborhood court, it was clear they were all ex-military. “Ryan and I were in the SEALs together.”

  “Cool, man,” one of them said. Ryan had already forgotten who was who.

  As Ryan ran up and down the court, the midday sun beat down on them. “Fucking foul,” Mason said with a laugh when Ryan came at him hard.

  “What, can’t take it these days?” Ryan asked. It felt good, the adrenaline rush and roughhousing.

  “I can take it fine. You’re the one with the old man leg. What’s it they say?” Mason asked as he dribbled the ball between his legs at the half court line. “I remember the days when my knees were right and left, not good and bad?”

  Ryan shook his head and smiled. He missed this, when it was just the guys. But those days were mostly over. He’d noticed wedding rings on half the guys’ hands.

  “It’s hot as balls out,” one of them said after an hour. “This Indian summer is shit. Y’all want to head out?”

  “Yeah,” Mason said. “I’m still hungover from last night anyway. Antonio’s?”

  Ryan had never heard of it, and plugged the name into his GPS. So much had changed since he’d lived full-time in this town. He noticed it more and more. Everyone around him would talk about events, restaurants and names, and he always nodded along like it made perfect sense to him. Since when does anyone go anywhere but Georgie’s for a slice?

  They each ordered a pizza for themselves, and for once nobody gave him shit about his appetite. Families that lined the restaurant stared at the group of big men in their pickup gear, but nobody said anything—at least not until they ordered.

  “Dad,” a kid whispered. “Those men ordered five pizzas. For here!” The dad shushed his son and gave Ryan an embarrassed look. Ryan just grinned and winked at the kid.

  As they each tucked into their pizzas, huddled around the tables with the staple red checkered cloths, Mason started to grill him.

  “So, what’s up?” Mason asked. “You normally don’t just hit me up out of the blue like that. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been back in town.”

  “I always try to connect when I’m here,” Ryan said. Even as the words spilled out, he knew it was a lie.

  “Bullshit,” Mason said. “I mean, I know we’re all busy. But this was a first. Last time you were on leave for, what, a whole month and I didn’t get so much as a booty call.”

  “Whatever, man,” Ryan said with a laugh. “I’m sure you’re not lacking any booty call action.”

  “You’d be surprised! You should know how it is, now that we’re in our thirties. The good ones are taken and the hot ones are crazy. Just gotta wait it out now until the good hot ones get finished with their first marriages, then it’s playtime all over again.”

  Ryan laughed. Mason always talked big, and Ryan knew he got his fair share of play, but he wasn’t really like that. He knew Mason took his relationships seriously. “You got it all figured out,” he said.

  “I try. So, how is it? I mean, being out of the service and all.”

  “Weird. I mean, I was a SEAL for most of my adult life. I’m still getting used to the total lack of routine.”

  “Yeah, I remember that,” Mason said. “Felt like I went straight from my mom’s house with her yelling at me to get up at dawn to some sergeant doing the
same thing.”

  “I don’t know what it is. Human nature, maybe, to want that kind of discipline and someone managing you.”

  “That’s strange though, isn’t it?” Mason asked. “We spend our entire childhood and youth where we just can’t wait to grow up. Then when we do, it’s like we seek out parents all over again. I mean, a lot meaner, tougher ones, but still the same kind of thing. You adjusting, though?”

  “Yeah. I think so,” Ryan said. “I check in with the VA team pretty regularly. They seem to think I’m doing okay.”

  “And what about the royal family?” Mason asked with a wink.

  “Shit, man, I don’t know. Eli… it’s fucking weird, right? For your brother to be POTUS?”

  “I’d think so, but hell if I know!” Mason said. “My brother’s an electrician.”

  “With the whole Ellie drama over and everything, it’s mostly died down. Nobody really pays much attention to me.”

  “You sound jealous,” Mason said. “Don’t worry. I still see the paps getting your photo in the tabloids from time to time. You fulfill the role of the president’s bad boy brother with your motorcycle and everything.”

  “Yeah, I think those are slow days,” Ryan said. “Honestly, nobody ever bothers me or says much to me. All that hoopla from the campaign days has died down.”

  “Probably for the best. That was some crazy shit.”

  “I wouldn’t really know. I was deployed for most of it. I feel kind of bad, because I got to duck out of the insanity of it, but the rest of the family had to deal with it all—”

  “Don’t be stupid. You were serving.”

  “I know, but when I heard all the stories, and when Ellie was getting death threats…”

  Mason shook his head. “I know they had to take it seriously and everything because of Eli, but I really think it was just a bunch of online teenage drama bullshit. People think they can say anything online and it’s not serious.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “But what about you now? You seeing anyone? Or...”

  Ryan looked down and pretended to be engrossed in his slice. “Nah, not really. It’s complicated.”