But I'm not dumb enough to say anything, and the house is always fucking spotless afterward, including my room.
“Right. I get that. Listen, I'm sorry about my bowl and promise not to do it again.”
“Pfft. Yeah right.”
I take a big risk and grab her waist pulling her to my body. She swats me away with her hand and I grab it with my free hand. “Will you stop beating me up, Meme?” I sneak a kiss on her cheek as she groans, hating one of the many nicknames me and Wes gave her when we were kids. She always hated it because of the Drew Carey character with all the makeup and, well, it doesn’t fit her.
The only nickname she allows me to call her is Meow. But this one is just too good to pass on when she's in a mood like this.
“I'm not going to stop beating you till I knock you out.” She raises an eyebrow, and I see a hint of a smile crack on her lips. A sign of the real Meadow breaking through.
“Then I better go before I get hurt. Are you coming for happy hour today?” I let her go and grab my keys off the counter.
“I'll let you know. Depends on how this meeting goes.”
“Alright. Later…Meme.”
“Ugh…you're gonna die,” she growls, and the wet dish towel comes flying at my head. I duck, and it hits the wall next to the door.
“Love you too, babe.” I blow her a kiss and her glare at me gets scarier. I make a quick getaway before she makes good on her threat.
Where you at?
I text Meadow, as Lonzo Ball from the Lakers makes a shot on the big screen above the bar, wondering where she could be. It’s twenty after five and I’ve settled into our usual table at Mike’s Tavern for Thursday Happy Hour. It’s our weekly ritual and even if she’s acting like the devil possessed, it’s not the same without her.
Meow: I’m not going to be able
to make it tonight. I’ll see you later.
Tell Randy and Steve I say hey.
Alright, catch you later.
“Where’s Meadow?” Randy asks, smothering his buffalo wing in blue cheese.
“She’s not going to make it. But she says hey.”
“Oh well, then guys night.” He nods, before biting into his food.
Steve comes back to the table with a beer and a tray of nachos. “Guys night? It’s not a guys night without Meadow.” He snorts and falls into his chair. “She’s the best wingman I got. Who’s going to help me with the ladies tonight?”
“Trust me I don’t think Meadow would be much help to you anyway. I swear something has taken over her body. Like some voodoo curse.” If this is something I have to start going through every month from now on, I might need a new place to live.
Because I'm afraid for my life.
“Well, what did you do to piss her off? Sara always acts insane when I do something wrong even if its load the dishwasher wrong?” Randy peels apart another wing and dips it into the sauce.
“Nothing.” I take pause and remember the small thing I did do. “Okay, I did leave a bowl unrinsed. But it’s more than that and Sara is your wife. Meadow isn't normally this unhinged over these little things. Like not to the extreme she's been.” I chug back my glass of Miller Lite thinking about my insane best friend and wonder if straight-jackets come in different colors for her.
“Meadow might as well be your wife.” He chuckles. “But think long and hard. Like at her party, you guys were all over each other. Did you maybe do something? Hook up and then you were so drunk you couldn’t get it up? And now...”
The beer pffts out of my mouth. “Noo. Are you crazy? Me and Meadow?”
“Crazy? Dude? You guys…we all had bets going on that you had finally hooked up that night. You sure you guys didn’t?”
What the hell? Bets? Sure, Meadow looked good that night, but I would never cross that line. It’s…Meadow.
“I'm sure.”
“Well, maybe she was hoping,” Randy suggests and digs back into his wings.
“I doubt it. We get flirty, but that’s who we are. You know that.”
We've always been like that. Nobody questioned or batted an eyelid at our behavior when it would get a little over the top; not even Wes when they dated. It’s how we are—a quirky little friendship—and if you couldn't deal, you didn't belong in our circle. Now suddenly everyone is assessing us under a microscope as if something has changed.
“Okay then, I don't know.” Randy shrugs. “Maybe ask her what you did wrong. Or sometimes it's easier just to say you're sorry. I learned that a long time ago with Sara.”
“The thing is, I did nothing. I want my friend back.”
“What you need, my friend, is to get laid.” Steve claps my shoulder. “Like I can be your wingman tonight. I learned from the best.”
I shove his hand away. “I don't think the techniques Meadow uses for you will work for me. Plus, I'm good anyway.”
“You’re good?” he snorts, and glances over at Randy and they share a knowing look, snickering.
“What?”
“Neither of us can even remember the last time you dated or even hooked up with someone. Like last month you had that Russian bombshell, who resembled a Victoria Secret model, who actually might have been one. She was all over you. She invited you back to her room and you turned her down because Meadow asked you to pick her up.”
I shrug. The girl was hot, but I wasn’t into her. When Meadow called it had been the perfect time for me to bail. Plus, Meadow always comes first. “So I was supposed to leave my best friend stranded at some event downtown?”
“No, but motherfucker, one of us would have gotten her. I even offered, remember?” Steve smacks me hard in the arm, and I hit him right back.
I don’t know what he’s getting all worked up about? He could’ve taken the chick off my hands for me.
“She asked me though.”
“That's a fucking excuse. She wouldn't have cared if we got her because you were busy.”
Randy nudges Steve's arm with a half-eaten wing in his hand. “Well, she might have because she's in love with Dex.” He chuckles.
“Shut the fuck up. It's not like that. And maybe I wasn't into the chick. I hardly even remember her.”
“Not into?” Steve scoffs. “She had double DDs to die for and skyscrapers for legs that she was begging to wrap around your head. And you walked away. The Dexter I knew in college would have been all over that and Meadow would have probably helped encourage it in some crazy, weird way, like she does with me. But lately, you two have sworn off the opposite sex. She doesn't date either. She turns down guys all the time when they approach her. So, why can't you admit you want her and then we can all go on our merry way...and I can get my wing woman back.”
“You done now?” I have a headache coming on. I only want to enjoy my beer and drop this already.
“No.” He grabs his beer and takes a quick sip before flapping on again. “So explain to us what you mean by ‘you’re good?’”
“I just haven't been in the mood for one-night stands. That's all.”
“Then make them two nights,” Steve hoots. “I'm sure that Russian beauty would have taken you around the block a couple of times. Are you saying you want to make them long lasting relationships?”
“I guess.” I grab my beer, gulping it down, finding myself annoyed with this conversation.
“So, why don’t you and Meadow date if you want the long-term shit?”
I slam my beer down, now pissed. Why are they still trying to push Meadow and me together? Okay, I get we’re best friends and we have this connection, but in my heart, she'll always belong to Wes. He loved her until the day he died. The thought of me with her is like breaking bro code.
“When did you two become a bunch of girls?” I joke trying to push away from this conversation and not let my anger get the best of me.
“I’m only trying to understand what's going on with you, man, that's all.”
“Well, can we drop it now?”
“Fine. Sorry.” Steve hol
ds his hands up defensively and Randy digs back into his buffalo wings.
I throw myself back into my chair and focus on the televisions above the bar. One is playing a Lakers game and the other is playing Meadow's favorite Geico commercial with the camel asking what day it is. As it finishes, I still have no idea what I'm going to do so she'll stop trying to kill me.
“Randy?”
“Yeah?” His head pops up, and he cleans his face off with a napkin.
“What do you do when you need to say sorry...like really sorry to Sara even if you aren't?”
Usually, when Meadow and I fight, one of us says sorry or we just get over it. Whatever is going on with Meadow right now, is out of my league, and I need the reserves on this.
Steve hits the table, laughing, and then stands up. “For the love of god, man. You're so whipped and not even getting the pussy. I'm going to get another beer and hit on the hottie waitress. Away from your pathetic ass.” He pats my shoulder and I knock him away.
“Shut the fuck up. I just don't want Meadow suffocating me in the middle of the night with my pillows.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” He walks away to the bar and Randy is laughing behind his hand.
“Forget this.” I stand and reach in my back pocket for my wallet. If I want to be harassed, I’ll go home and have Meadow do it. At least there it’ll be done in the comfort of my own home.
“Flowers,” Randy says simply and I look at him cross-eyed, wondering what he's going on about.
“What?”
“I give Sara flowers. Maybe with candy or a card depending on how deeply I fucked up. Now sit down and chill the fuck out.”
I find Meadow on the couch with her feet tucked under her lap, sipping on a glass of red wine. She has the remote in her hand, flipping through the channels, seemingly unaware that I have even come through the door.
Slowly I inch closer to her and clutch the assortment of gas station daisies and lilacs I picked up before I came home under Randy's suggestion. I would have done something nicer, but the flower boutique downtown was already closed for the night. The plastic wrap crinkles in my hand giving me away and Meadow’s head snaps in my direction.
“Hey, how was your meeting?” I ask and slide in next to her on the couch. She eyes me curiously at first before she puts her sights on the flowers in my hands.
“It was fine. Would have been much better if I was at the bar with you guys and helping Steve pick up girls, but it was what it was.” She shrugs and sets her wine down on the coffee table. “Nice flowers?”
“They’re for you.” I thrust them into her arms, and she takes them from me. “To tell you I'm sorry.”
Her body twists to mine as she places the bouquet to her nose, and eyes me suspiciously over the arrangement. But even through the plastic wrap and the pink and purple petals, I see it; a smile. A genuine Meadow smile that tells me everything might be okay and I'm breaking down whatever wall she's built up.
“You don't even know why you should be sorry.”
“Besides my bowl in the sink, no, but at least I finally got you to crack a damn smile. And these did not go flying at my head. So, I say it’s a win-win. Am I forgiven for whatever it is I did?”
The flowers fall to her lap and she glances down at them, picking at the rubber band that holds them together. She doesn't say anything for several minutes and I don't know what she could be thinking. I have a feeling she’s either thinking over whether to forgive me or maim me with something.
“Meadow, what is going on?” I reach out and brush my hand down her arm, wishing she would tell me. She used to tell me everything that was going on in that head of hers.
Finally, her head pops back up, and a tear runs down her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand.
Shit, I’m in trouble.
“Meadow.” I inch closer to her ready to plead for forgiveness. I hate seeing her cry. I only wish I knew what it was I'd done. “What happened? What did I do? It’s something. And whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
“I have been acting a little nuts, haven’t I?” She wipes away another tear from her face.
“A little, but I figured I did something.”
Her eyes dart over to the window, a sign she’s about to fib, before coming back to me. “It’s this new birth control. It’s fucking with me. I think I’m going to have to change it back. Even Mel and Steph had mentioned my reign of terror. I’m sorry.”
“Why don’t I believe that’s all of it?”
Her head falls to my shoulder, with a heavy sigh as she plays with the pink petals. “It’s also been a shitty week at work. There’s this new girl, Kayleigh. She’s pissing me off. But you probably don’t want to hear about it.”
“Of course, I do. Especially if it means you’ll stop trying to kill me and direct your anger on someone else now.”
She gives a little giggle and scoots in closer to my side. “She's Mr. Hanson's niece and I'm to train her. Teach her everything I know about event planning because he thinks I’m the best to do so next to him. After I train her, he’s leaving the company to her. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if she weren’t trying to sabotage everything I’m doing. Every idea she claims as hers behind my back. She’s been messing with events, canceling things, changing orders. I can’t figure out why she’s trying to screw me over when all I’m doing is trying to help her.”
“Why don't you say something?” My hand brushes through her hair and down her arm. I can feel the tension rolling off Meadow's body, and whatever demon possessed her starts to leave.
I'll have to text Randy and tell him the flowers do work to open a woman up. Though I guess I haven't taken the time to talk or try to listen to her either. Too afraid she might try to cut my head off.
“What's the point? She's already permanently brown nosed her way up Mr. Hanson's ass. I've worked my butt off to get where I am. Now she just walks in and has everything handed to her. Plus, she's got this I'm better than you attitude. I hate her!”
“I'm sorry. I know that can't be easy. But you’re the best event planner and Hanson knows this. Maybe you could apply somewhere else?”
“I could, but I shouldn’t fucking have too,” she snaps and her head goes flying off my shoulder. Oops. I angered the beast. I grab her arm and pull her back, forcing her to my lap.
“Hush, I’m sorry. It was just an idea.” I kiss the top of her head, taking a second to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo. I've always loved the smell of it. “Listen, is there anything I can do? You want me to call Mel? See if she still has that rope in her car? I think I can manage to get my hands on some shovels.”
That gets her to laugh, the cute little laugh that makes her snort. The one I love because it’s innocent and carefree. She does it when she’s trying her hardest not to laugh which causes her to snort, which is why it’s my favorite because I know I did it. I feel like I did something right for once.
“You know, I might take you up on that. We could live a life of crime. Become Bonnie and Clyde.”
“If anyone could pull it off, it'd be us.” I chuckle, and she wraps her arms around my waist and places her head back on my shoulder.
“Too bad our parents would end up finding us before the cops and kill us first.”
Our mothers always had a way of finding out when we caused any kind of trouble. They were like bloodhounds. Even once we got away for college.
“You’re probably right. So, are we okay now?” I lift her chin, having her look at me. Her green eyes still clouded from her tears. I want to push her to tell me more of what she’s hiding because I know it’s more than birth control and Kaylee or whoever. But I know she’ll tell me when she’s ready. “Are you going to stop trying to kill me?”
“I guess so. I mean the flowers are pretty nice.”
Wonder if she’ll still feel that way knowing that I got them from the Exxon across the street from the bar. “Only the best for you. You still love me? Even though I didn�
�t soak my bowl?”
“Forever and ever.”
Chapter Three
Meadow
Staying mad at Dexter has never been my thing. It’s impossible, especially when he’s not aware of what he's done wrong. He had been super drunk. Twice as much as I was. And it had been my dumbass fault for leaving him alone and also for not telling him what happened. I have to take my own responsibility for that.
There is a part of me that perhaps knows where Dexter's mind was that night, where his hesitation stems from: it's because to him, I'll always be Wes’ girl. That’s what I’ve always been. Even after Wes’ death when I started dating again my sophomore year of college, he frowned upon it. Always questioned every guy’s intention like this crazy big brother.
It always drove me insane, but I allowed it because I knew it came from a good place. He'd promised to take care of me and that's what he had been doing.
Instead of stewing in my anger I go for a different tactic and devise a plan. I figured I had one of two choices. I could either tell him—which is no fun at all and comes with a huge risk of being rejected and our friendship taking a hit.
And that’s the last thing I want.
So, that only leaves me with my second choice. The fun route. I call it: The Flirt.
For many years, I've watched women flaunt over this man and shake what they have, which landed them in bed with him. Usually, it was a shake of the ass or a laugh that was too loud or screechy. Now, Dex isn't a man whore, he doesn't sleep with every woman he meets. But he's not always necessarily picky either. I have no idea what he saw in most of the women he’d slept with, but at the time it wasn’t my right to judge, nor did I care.
Well, except over this last year.
Thankfully, he hasn’t been bedding many women lately. Which I took to mean he was having the same feelings for me that I was for him.
The one thing Dex and I have going already is that we know how to flirt with each other. It’s something we’ve been doing since we were in diapers. It comes naturally. Now, what I have to do is up my ante and take off more of my clothes and maybe bat my eyes a bit more.
The Love Plan Page 3