The Girl He Knows

by Kristi Rose

“Yeah, she’s pretty spectacular. This move is gonna be hard on her with leaving my folks.”

  “I bet it’s going to be hard on your parents, too.” Even when Momma and Sarah Grace are fighting, Momma still gets the twins for a full day and overnight. She starts missing them when she goes three days without seeing them.

  “It’ll be hard on everyone. My dad is a photographer for National Geographic and it’s been my mom’s life dream to go with him on some of his assignments. Now’s the time for them to fulfill their plans. Now’s the time for me to start this adventure.” He nods to Brinn. “It’s all good stuff.”

  I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. “What’s your number? I’ll text you some school names.” I send out names of the schools I think are the ones I’d like to see my kids or Sarah Grace’s twins go to.

  Josie’s right. He’s a tad nerdy but in a hot way. I almost wonder if the nerdiness comes from his clothes and bad haircut and not so much his mannerisms. He’s laid-back and easygoing, has a good sense of humor, and can be quite wry. It’s attractive and I like him. Just not in the way Josie was hoping.

  His leg brushes mine and I feel nothing. No spark. Stacy is the kind of guy women call a keeper, and try as I might he’s not for me. But he’s perfect for Jayne.

  “Let’s get ice cream and head back to our house and sit on the beach,” Josie says.

  We agree and Stacy picks up the tab. We’re getting up from the table when he asks, “Hey, anyone got a calculator? I can’t figure the tip on this bill.”

  Brinn and Josie walk away. I look at him and snap my mouth shut.

  “It’s a joke,” he tells me. “Nobody gets my math humor.”

  I laugh. Not because he’s funny, but because he’s nice and I have a great idea.

  “Hey, Josie?” I call. “Would you mind if I give Jayne a call and invite her? I know she’s home alone tonight.”

  “Oh, OK,” she says.

  “You won’t be offended if I invite another girlfriend to join us? Give these two”—I indicate Brinn and Josie—“ice cream and a lounge chair, and the end of them is near. Plus, you’ll have two girls to entertain you.”

  “I like those odds.” He smiles.

  “See, I got your math joke.”

  “I like you, Paisley. You’re all right.”

  “Wait till you meet my friend Jayne. Prepare to be entertained,” I say in my best game-show-announcer voice. “By entertained I mean clean wholesome fun, just so y’know.”

  “Sounds great, but I’m not dancing or singing karaoke,” he says.

  “Well hell, now you’ve gone and ruined it.” We laugh as I pull out my phone and dial up Jayne.

  Chapter 20

  I haven’t seen Hank; he’s been working fourteen-hour days so our contact has been limited to casual e-mails and text messages. I haven’t given Jake much thought other than he’s still out of town. My days are my own, and I enjoy the stress-free time spent being a lazy cow. I’ve spent today sitting by the pool, under an umbrella, of course. As the sun prepares to kiss off, I head inside and place a pizza-delivery order. There’s a good book and a bottle of wine calling my name.

  A knock on the door surprises me and with a spring in my step I fling open the door. My smile turns into a lip curl and I swallow a dry heave. Jake is holding a bag of Chinese takeout and waving a movie.

  “Hey, babe, I thought we’d pick up where we left off.”

  My stomach turns and with nerves steeled, I conjure up my resolve. I refuse to let him manipulate me.

  He pushes his way in and kicks the door closed, kisses me on the neck, and heads toward my kitchen.

  I scramble to come up with a reason why he can’t stay. I’m still in my swimsuit with a towel wrapped around me. I go to my room and toss on my cover-up, the one that hangs to my knees.

  I want Jake to leave but no viable excuse is coming to mind. Think, I scream in my head. I remember what Jayne said about being honest. It’s not rude or unreasonable to ask him to leave even if I have no other plans. He may argue back, but I’ll stand my ground. I repeat this several times, hoping to make it true. I head to the kitchen, my speech prepared, when someone else bangs on my door. I scramble to get it.

  Please be Josie, I pray. She’ll know how to handle it.

  I swing the door open to see Hank standing there with his lopsided grin and his hair mussed. A motorcycle helmet hangs in his left hand.

  “Hey.” His smile broadens.

  My body tingles and I smile back, “Hey—”

  “Hey, babe, where do you keep the forks?” Jake comes in, pulls the door open farther, and gives Hank the once-over.

  “Who are you?” Hank asks.

  “Her boyfriend. Who are you?”

  “Wait. What?” I ask Jake. I shake my head and look at Hank. “He’s not—”

  “I’ve caught you at a bad time. I’ll get going,” Hank replies. His shoulders slump as he steps back and winces. My heart breaks, leaps, and then freezes in panic.

  He walks off. I face Jake and throw my hands up in question. Words escape me, and I dart out the door after Hank.

  I follow him down the hallway and have to skip steps on the stairs to catch up with him. We reach the parking lot, and I stretch out trying to touch him but he’s just out of reach. He stops suddenly and turns toward me, causing me to skid to a stop.

  “This is exactly what I was talking about, Paisley, at the park. On our date.”

  I give him a puzzled look.

  “Sleeping with you and sharing you with others. It goes against my nature.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Answer me one question. Are you sleeping with him?” He sets his jaw.

  If he would shut up for a second, I would answer all his questions.

  I turn my face up to him and try not to twitch or blink so he can see, without a doubt, I’m telling the truth.

  “No. This is like only the third time I’ve seen him and I did not plan nor ask for this. He showed up uninvited. He is not my boyfriend.” His eyes search my face. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Didn’t you get kicked out of Girl Scouts?”

  “No, I left voluntarily. Do you remember everything?” I ask.

  “Why did he say he was your boyfriend?” He turns and walks to one of the most spectacular motorcycles I have ever seen.

  I stare at it in awe. “I dunno. Maybe he thought you were gonna brain him with your helmet.” I nod toward the full-face black helmet. “You being the tough biker and all.”

  We grin. I look at the bike and run my hands over the tank.

  “I showed up uninvited,” he says.

  “Yes, but you have a standing invitation.”

  He pauses. “Seriously, what’s his deal?” He’s not snarky, just curious.

  I shrug, “I dunno. Totally caught me off guard. I was about to ask him to leave when you knocked. How long have you owned a motorcycle?” I walk over to Hank, push up the sleeve on his left arm, and trace a tattoo of the Navy insignia with my index finger. “You, sir, have hidden depths.”

  He smiles his crooked smile I love so much. “What are you doing with that guy, Paisley?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing, I hadn’t planned on seeing him again. Besides, who needs a boyfriend when I’ve got BOB.” It’s my attempt at a joke.

  “BOB?” He quirks a brow.

  “Yeah, you remember BOB.” I do some awkward hand gestures and stop when realization dawns and he smirks.

  Hank comes from around the bike, puts his helmet on the ground, and backs me up against my SUV, which is parked next to his bike.

  “Yes, but can BOB do this?” He lifts me up, presses me between the car and his body, and kisses me thoroughly. I lose all sense of time and space. He breaks the kiss, hovers his lips over mine as he lowers me slowly to the ground. My knees buckle, and I give a nervous giggle.

  He brushes a second gentle kiss on my lips, takes a step back, pulls on hi
s helmet, flips the faceplate up, and straddles his bike.

  “You let me know when you get BOB to do that.” He winks and starts the bike up. The vibrations of the bike echo the tremor in my body.

  I’m rooted to my spot, like a dullard, with what I suspect is a goofy look on my face. At least I manage a small wave as he rides off.

  A reflection of light from an apartment across the way catches my eye, and I look over to see Mrs. Cranston, the nosiest neighbor this world over, watching me through binoculars.

  Ha. I knew she used them. Wait till I tell Josie.

  “Hi, Mrs. Cranston.” I wave before heading back to my apartment. Jake is standing on my balcony eating Chinese food out of the container and looking down at me.

  Holy hell. My left eye twitches.

  I climb the stairs to my apartment, my mind a total blank, at a loss for what to say. I swing open the door and brace myself. He continues to stand there and eat.

  “Ah...” Yep, it’s all I got.

  “I was going to ask if you missed me.” He gives me a wounded look.

  Like I missed a cold sore.

  “I can see you had a distraction. Guess I need to step up my game.” He puts the Chinese food on my coffee table, without a coaster, and I stare at the food box as the gummy gravy oozes out from the bottom. He steps closer and tries to pull me into an embrace, but I put my hands up on his chest to stop him.

  “Listen, Jake. I’m sorry, I have plans. I appreciate the spontaneity, but the timing is off.” I don’t want an ugly confrontation, convinced if we get into it he’ll just twist my words until I’m confused and the message is lost. I don’t have the debate skills to go up against guys like Trevor and Jake. I want him to leave. I try to take a step back, but he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me toward him.

  “I won’t lie and say I’m not hurt. I know you’re giving me the brush-off but you’re making a mistake.” He weasels his hands under the bottom of my bathing-suit cover and pinches my bum so hard I yelp and jump closer. He locks me in tight.

  “Don’t you understand, Paisley? Don’t you think we can have something good?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

  Never in my life have I been this unnerved and scared shitless. I nod, afraid to do anything other than agree.

  “Great. I’ll let you come up with something for our next date. Make it good.” His kiss is rough; his lips push against mine with such force it hurts, and I taste the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. He pulls away, pushing me backward, and I fall onto the floor. He steps over me and scoops up his keys as he heads toward the door.

  “Oh, what color is your dress for the wedding? I’ll try to coordinate it with my suit.” He turns back and waits with an impatient look as if I’m a petulant child.

  “Navy.” It comes out a whisper.

  “Great. Navy. I expect to hear from you soon. I enjoy being with you. You’re a cool chick.” He winks and walks out. When the door closes, I jump up, throw the lock, and slide down the door, my back resting against it.

  I bite my thumbnail as I listen through the door, afraid he may come back. There’s a soft shuffle on the other side and I press my ear closer, straining. I jump when someone knocks.

  “Who is it?” I demand in what I hope is my sternest voice but there is no denying I’m rattled.

  “Pizza delivery.”

  I look through the peephole and let out my breath.

  It’s the pizza guy.

  I grab my money, open the door, snatch the pizza, toss him my cash, very large tip included, and slam the door, throwing the bolt again. I lean against the door, holding my pizza, shaking. Jake has made me afraid in my own home.

  “Wow, thanks lady,” the kid yells through the door. Clearly, he is pleased with my tip.

  My trembling is no longer generated by fear but anger. I’m pissed off. Who the fuck does Jake think he is? I have a flash to Trevor. Toward the end of our marriage he used to play the same type of mind games and he nearly broke me. I don’t like the parallel.

  Jayne’s words about honesty and Josie’s about feeling obligated resonate with me. And then there’s Hank’s kisses. Even when hurried, they never cause pain. Ignoring what needs to be said between Jake and me won’t resolve this problem. I was stupid to think it would. I’m tired of being a victim. I may not have changed as much as I originally thought but here’s the opportunity to make more of that change happen. I’ve come this far, and I won’t be held down by anyone, including me, anymore.

  I snatch up the Chinese food on my table, wipe up the gravy square, combine them with the container in my kitchen, and drop them in the trash. There is no way in hell I’m eating something Jake brought. For all I know it’s laced with a date-rape drug. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I uncork my bottle of wine, grab a napkin, the pizza box, and my book, and head out to my balcony. I toy with the idea of texting Hank, asking him to come back. But then he really would be my booty call. I stick to the original plan.

  Tonight is going to be what I originally wanted, an evening with only myself for company.

  Chapter 21

  “He’s pretty good, huh?” I ask Josie without taking my eyes off Hank.

  “Freakishly good,” she says. “Has he always been a good dancer?”

  I grab her arm, snort with laughter, pull her close, and say, “Don’t tell anyone. Hank took dance lessons.”

  “Seriously? When?”

  “Last half of middle school, beginning of high school. Our parents’ grand idea. We were in the same class together: Gigi, me, Hank, and their younger sister Joanna. I took a blood oath to never tell.” We laugh and continue our observation of Hank.

  “It’s definitely paid off for him. Guy’s got moves.”

  We stand in the crowd, watching the people on the dance floor. It’s typical to see mostly women dancing together though tonight some of the good old boys are out there making it happen, Hank being one of them. Of course, he’s making it happen with Melinda Bane, which has me grinding my teeth.

  Why I agreed to come to this stupid event is beyond me. Between the guilt laid on by Gigi and Sarah Grace, I was in poor shape when my own mother started in on me.

  The Swan Ball is held every summer. It’s a fund-raiser to help local kids with new school clothes, school supplies, and even establishes scholarships. Any extra money goes toward a Christmas festival for the same group of kids. Under normal circumstances I like it because it’s held outside, is for a good cause, and promises a good time. I don’t like it right now because I have to watch Hank and Melinda.

  Earlier, I counted seven booze tents and as I watch Hank spin Melinda around the floor, I decide I need to need to partake in some of the free wine.

  I admit I’m jealous. Not jealous because Melinda gets tons of attention, like in high school, or because she seems so unflawed. Honestly, who can two-step in those heels? I bet she’s stepping all over his feet. I’m jealous because I don’t like seeing Hank with another girl. Any girl. Certainly not one who’s as schooled in the arts of man wooing as Melinda.

  This is a whole new emotion for me.

  “Come on. Let’s move before he sees us,” I say and head toward the wine booths.

  The song ends, and Hank calls my name. Josie looks at me but I pretend I’m too distracted to hear him and order a white wine at the nearest booth. I’m sipping it, giving her dirt about the local vendors I know from high school, and hopefully, emitting an air of indifference when he approaches.

  “Hey.” He’s out of breath from whooping it up on the dance floor. “Josie, right? How are you?” His smile is warm as he gives her his attention.

  “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you sober,” she says, and they both give a quick laugh. She cuts her eyes to me. “You know, I’m gonna go use the restroom.” She backs away from us, not giving me a chance to stop her.

  “When did you get here?”

  I swear, if he smiles at me
, I will lose my mind.

  “A while ago.” I set my teeth, unable to even fake a smile.

  “You OK?” He orders a glass of white wine.

  I narrow my eyes. In a crowd like this, Hank’s a beer guy.

  “You getting one for Melinda?” My words come out biting.

  He looks at me, puzzled, “Yeah, is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing.” My sarcasm isn’t lost on Hank. He’s known me too long. I take a sip of wine and raise my eyebrows.

  “What’s with the attitude?” he asks.

  I don’t want to fight, but my blood is boiling and refraining is no longer an option.

  “Really? Melinda Bane? Seriously?” I walk off in a huff. I get about two steps when he grabs my elbow and steers me to a space between two tents, trying to avoid a scene.

  “I’m not sure what you’re implying. I didn’t bring her. Not that it’s any business of yours.”

  “We’ve been sleeping together. Don’t you think I should know if you have a date?”

  He snorts and gives me a scathing look. “It’s nothing you haven’t done to me.”

  OK, he’s got me there.

  “I don’t flaunt my dates in front of you,” I say.

  “I’m not on a date.” He throws his hand up in disgust. “What do you want from me?”

  His question gives me pause. What do I want? My thoughts wander to places I never imagined they would go nor could I have imagined the small ache in my heart accompanying those thoughts.

  “You’re right. I lost sight of our deal. We don’t have a relationship. We’re clear we both don’t want one.” I can’t stop the accusatory tone that carries my words.

  “I never said I didn’t want a relationship; I said my job makes it a hard. You’re the one who wants to ‘try a few guys on for size.’”

  He throws my words at me and they hit like a slap on the face. I suck in my breath and toss my wine in the trash can.

  “You said you weren’t interested in Melinda,” I say.

  “It was one dance. You’re overreacting.”

  Maybe. Maybe I am. I know there are suppose to be no strings with our deal, but if he’s going to go on dates, why does it have to be with Melinda? He knows I hate her. He knows she’s always been a cow to me.