by Tess Oliver
Emily grabbed a soda from the ice chest and stretched out onto her stomach on the towel next to my chair. She propped herself up on her forearms and looked up at me. "Guess that means he won't have time for the band." I hated that she said it with so much enthusiasm.
"That makes you happy, doesn't it?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "A little."
"So my bad luck is your good luck."
She pushed up to her knees. "That's not what I meant, Josh. It's just—then we can think of settling down somewhere together after I graduate. I mean if you're not traveling with the band anymore, that'll be a lot easier."
"Glad that it's all worked out for you." I got to my feet. "Think I'll take a walk."
"Jeez," Emily called after me. "Mr. Fucking Sensitive."
I didn't look back, and I made a point of not looking out at the water where Rebecca and her overly tanned surfer boyfriend were having just a little too good of a time. Then I had no choice but to turn that direction when she called to me.
"Hey, Josh, look!"
I swung my gaze her direction. She was standing in front of Gregory with her arms stretched out away from her long, willowy body. "I think I'm ready for competition. Don't you think?" The last word made the board wobble under her feet. She screamed in laughter as she went over the side. Gregory used it as another excuse to wrap his greedy hands around her as they fell into the water together.
I walked on. All in all, not my favorite beach trip.
Chapter 9
Rebecca
I glanced around to make sure the area was clear and pulled the baggie out of my apron pocket. A shiver went through me. Even through the plastic, the dead cockroach made me queasy. I looked through the heads to table five, one of my big tables for the night. It was a bunch of people celebrating their friend's thirtieth birthday. Everyone was having a great time, laughing and being just a little bit on the side of obnoxiously loud. I'd immediately pinpointed that group for the cockroach fiasco, deciding they would make a lot of noise about a dead bug on their nacho platter.
I had curled myself into a corner where I could fill salsa bowls and where no foot traffic passed by. The pig I worked for had slipped into his office an hour earlier, and I hadn't seen him since. I had to admit he'd done a good job starting the place. It had been open a week, and there were already people waiting outside on the benches for a table. Things had gone remarkably smooth with only a few snafus regarding the menu and a rather spoiled chef. And I was making pretty good money in tips. If it weren't for the fact that I was there to destroy the business and its wretched owner, I might have even enjoyed the new job.
A loud round of laughter thundered through the dining room. It was my table. Apparently they were opening gifts. The birthday woman looked so happy. I shoved the dead bug back into my apron. How could I ruin her thirtieth birthday? Shit. I was bad at this revenge thing. As badly as I wanted to ruin Trent in some glorious way, the way he had ruined my life, our lives, I couldn't bring myself to ruin the celebration of the birthday girl.
I carried the nachos and drinks to the birthday table. As I passed by Anna, the head server, she leaned over to let me know I needed to take a break soon.
I nodded and continued to the table with my heavy tray. The mini skirt and the rather creepy interview had given me hope that I might be able to catch the owner doing something shady or against employment practices, but damn, if he wasn't sticking to the book on everything. I'd even gone through the trouble of buying a slim pocket recorder to catch him saying something inappropriate. But the one night he'd come close, by mentioning that my legs looked extra smooth, I'd forgotten to turn on the recorder. I was obviously not going to ever work as a spy or undercover agent.
I let Anna know I'd be on a fifteen minute break, so she could cover my tables. I headed to the backroom refrigerator for my yogurt. I could hear Trent's voice, a voice that made me cringe, coming from the room. I opened the door. Trent was standing at the door to the back alley talking to a sleazy looking guy. Both of their faces shot up as if I'd walked into the room with silver pistols blazing. Trent pushed something he was holding out of view.
"Why are you off the floor?" he asked angrily.
"It's my break." I pointed to the fridge. "I just wanted my yogurt."
He pushed on a smoother face. One thing was certain, the man had an explosive temper, even after the supposed year of anger management classes.
"Right, go ahead and grab your yogurt."
I hurried to the refrigerator as he cut short the conversation at the alley door. As I reached in to grab my Lime Surprise, a little grin popped up on my face. Maybe I was going to nail this guy after all. It seemed he was up to more than just running a restaurant.
I walked back out with a little less grin on my face. So far, my sleuthing skills were laughable. How the heck was I going to bring him down? I'd have to give it some thought when I wasn't dead tired. Two jobs were already taking their toll on me. I wasn't getting home until midnight, and I had to be at my cubicle by eight. Stupidly, I'd imagined this plan going much faster.
I placed my yogurt down in the cramped break room and slipped into the restroom to wash my hands. The restaurant was so crowded and hot, I decided to put my hair up into a ponytail.
Ellie, one of the servers, walked in to check her makeup. "Wow, busy night. Some good tips too."
"Yep, can't complain." I pulled my hair through the rubber band.
Ellie looked over and squinted at the tiny tattoo on the side of my neck. "Rebel, Rebel," she read. "How cute. Because of the song?"
"No." I fingered the tattoo absently. "It's something a good friend used to call me. I could be in the darkest, worst mood, but if I heard him say Rebel, Rebel, it always made me smile."
"Shoot, we can all use a friend like that, huh?"
My thoughts drifted naturally to Joshua. I'd almost forgotten Ellie was standing right there looking in the same mirror.
She tapped me on the arm. "Or maybe he was more than a friend. You've got that starry eyed look my mom gets when she's watching a movie with Brad Pitt."
I smiled. "No, he was just a friend."
"Well"—Ellie took a deep breath—"Back to the trenches and hopefully to the tippers with deep pockets."
"Good luck."
"You too."
I headed back out to the break room and popped open my yogurt. I rarely let my mind get clouded with Joshua memories, but sometimes, they were too hard to keep away.
Chapter 10
Rebecca
Five years earlier
I had Nick Cave on my headset, which fit my mood perfectly as I swung slowly back and forth on the crude wood swing hanging down from the massive oak in Michelle's front yard. It was strange how I called her mom, just like she had asked, but inside my head she was still Michelle. Maybe that's because I knew inside her head, I was still another woman's daughter.
A late summer breeze tickled my bare legs as I flung my feet forward to keep the motion going. The air still smelled like summer, but I could feel the edges of fall lacing the feathery light wind. I couldn't remember how many times I'd sat on the swing pumping my legs hard in an effort to rocket the swing up to the sky. So many times I wanted the inertia just to take me straight into the clouds and away from the house and yard and town forever. Today was one of those days, but I couldn't even work up the energy to pump my legs.
Sometimes everything compounded inside of me, and it stayed there like a brick with rough, sharp edges. And then it took a lot of effort to smooth down the corners, corners that rubbed me from the inside, scratching at my soul, reminding me of why the brick was there in the first place.
I coasted forward, and two hands grabbed the ropes to stop me. I startled, yanked out my ear buds and spun around.
Joshua was wearing that movie star smile and holding up a packet of pink Pop Rocks. His long brown hair was hanging down around his shoulders in what I liked to tease him as his rowdy punk look. His extra long locks were always a so
urce of contention between him and Emily. Even though I called her Emily, she was always my sister in my head.
"Hey, Rebel, Rebel, got you something." He wiggled the black and pink packet of candy.
"Oh my gosh, I haven't had those in sooo long." The swing flowed forward as I grabbed for the Pop Rocks, but he teasingly held them just out of reach.
"Ah, what's the magic word?"
I gave him a crooked smile. "Butthead?"
"That works." He tossed the pack of candy onto my lap. "You know I was thinking of getting that tattooed right here on my inner forearm." For the last few years, Joshua had gotten into working out with weights. Now every inch of him was carved, including his forearms. Sometimes I wanted to kick Emily for not appreciating just how amazing he was. She was always busy trying to fix him when there just wasn't a damn thing to fix.
"Tattoo what?'
"Butthead," he said matter of factly as if it was already a done deal and he just needed to get to the tattoo shop.
I held the ropes as I leaned back with a laugh. It sent me forward, and he caught my bare feet in his hands, holding me in suspended animation. His hands wrapped around my ankles and his palms warmed the cool night air from my skin. Nick Cave's deep, melodic tone whispered through the ear buds in my lap, the only sound, aside from the vibrating leaves in the overhead branches. The silence between us, as he held my ankles, was strong and comforting, as strong and comforting as our friendship. Slowly, he peeled his hands away from my ankles and I swung back.
"I like the idea." I ripped open the Pop Rocks. "I might get Rebel, Rebel tattooed somewhere too." I tossed my head back, and the fizzy candy coated my tongue.
I was enjoying the nostalgia of crinkling my nose over a mouthful of sour, bubbling candy and hadn't noticed the expression on his face. The smile had faded and he was wearing that same lost, almost pained, expression I caught more and more often, especially when he didn't know I was watching him. There was so much going on in his life, his change in plans from a rock and roll dream future to a boring job. His dad sick with liver disease. And then there was his relationship with Emily. They seemed to trip through more rough patches than smooth lately. I worried that they might break up and then he'd be out of my life forever. I wasn't sure I could bear that.
I offered him some Pop Rocks.
"No thanks." He walked around behind me and gave me a light push. "You know that guy is just an asshole anyhow."
I twisted around to look at him, and it sent the swing sideways. "Who?" My body stiffened as I waited for his response.
"Gregory," he said, looking confused at my reaction.
"Oh, yeah, Gregory." I released the breath I'd been holding.
"Sorry to hear about the breakup."
I pushed off the ground for more momentum. "No you aren't."
He laughed. "You're right. I'm not. He wasn't right for you."
"You sure have the bar set high for me. I guess I should have at least as high a bar as Emily. After all, she has the gold standard."
He laughed again, only this time it sounded far off and lonely. "Yeah, I don't think that's true. And I'm pretty sure Em would agree."
"She can be kind of clueless." I sucked on some more candy. For now, some of the rough, sharp edges of the brick had been smoothed and the pain lifted. Joshua had done that.
He pushed me forward. I watched my pale feet stand out against the blue night sky. "Josh, do you have any happy triggers?"
"Happy triggers?"
"Yeah, you know, little things that give you this sudden lift, a rush of happiness. Even when you're feeling down."
"Huh, never gave it much thought. But I can say that when I'm playing guitar all the shit in the world disappears. In fact, just seeing my guitar gives me a rush. And a double cheeseburger, that can be a rush too."
"See, that's what I'm talking about. For me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on a bed of potato chips makes me giddy as if the world and humankind can make it through the dark times as long as there are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and potato chips."
Joshua circled around to stand next to me as I coasted forward and back on the swing, slowing my momentum with an occasional toe tap on the ground.
He reached up and took hold of one side of the rope, and I twisted around and bounced back. "PB and J. You, my friend, do not have high standards when it comes to happy triggers."
"I guess not. I think it's not so much the sandwich and chips as that they remind me of a time when it was just my dad and me. He had to work a lot, and I was just a little kid who thought cereal with marshmallow shapes was a gourmet meal. We'd sit at our little table with the crayon marks I'd made from coloring my homework sheets and we'd laugh and tell each other about our day over peanut butter, jelly and potato chips."
I lifted my face to his. Joshua's smile was faint, but I caught that elusive twinkle in his eyes that let me know whatever I'd said had pleased him. It was those looks that assured me I had a true friend in Joshua. He never judged me. Most of all, I could trust him. I felt safe with him, and I couldn't say that about everyone.
That strong, comforting silence fell over us again. I knew he was just as aware of it as I was, but we never mentioned it. Only sometimes, it became too strong, and I had to shake it off before something happened that neither of us could handle.
I moved my hands down to just hold onto the ropes without moving the swing. "And houses with window boxes," I continued. "Of course the boxes have to be overflowing with flowers, otherwise they are just boxes. Like on a Swiss chalet house. Yep. Houses with flowering window boxes are happy triggers too. When I pass a house with flower boxes, I always wonder what it would be like to live inside. I always imagine a cozy fire and fresh baked bread on the kitchen table and a big orange cat curled up in a basket of yarn."
Josh's faint smile widened to a grin. He ruffled my hair. "Don't you dare ever change, Rebel. I've got to go. See you later."
"Thanks for the Pop Rocks," I called, and he waved back at me without turning around.
I watched him climb into his car.
"And you, Josh. The best happy trigger of all."
Chapter 11
Joshua
Day old bagels, cream cheese and fruit that looked like it came from a can instead of a tree was hardly a trade-off for having to sit through a business conference. But at least I'd had the forethought to let Dylan know that I'd be taking all weekend off to make up for it. He'd taken several long weekends lately for nothing more than surfing and hanging out with friends, so I didn't feel too guilty asking for it. He had reluctantly agreed. Not that I had any exciting plans, but I needed to finish my damn kitchen. Frozen food was starting to get to me, like the stale bagels and mushy colorless fruit on the breakfast buffet table.
Kennedy, a very cute, albeit talkative, woman, who was still only thinking about starting a bar business, had followed me into several information sessions. I'd considered asking for her phone number more than once, but something told me she wasn't the type to just want to have fun and some good sex. I had no idea I'd become 'that guy', the sneak out at three in the morning with shoes in hand type, until it dawned on me that I hadn't developed an emotional attachment to any of the girls I'd dated in the past four years. There had been no one steady since Emily. Maybe I'd just started that relationship too damn early for my own good, and now, as a twenty-something, I was a hopeless asshole preferring a one or two night stand to having someone to come home to every night.
The chairs in what was labeled the East Conference room were lined up in perfect rows and columns. They were straight backed with little leg room to deter you from deciding to stretch your legs out for a quick snooze. The topic was internet marketing and social media. The presenters, a stiff, fake looking couple, were standing up front with their brightly colored brochures and three thousand dollar glowing white dental veneers. The usual laptop, projector and big screen set up was just waiting to be lit up so we could be filled with incredible, mus
t-have information.
I found a chair at the end of the second to last row and scooted it back just enough to throw off the symmetry of the row and allow my long legs to stretch out. I picked up my phone and scrolled through to the few notes I'd taken in the other sessions. Not too much there that we didn't already know. It actually made me feel better to think that Dylan and I had done most things right, even though we were new to the business. And we'd been lucky enough to be local boys, so it was easy to get people through the door. So far, things were running smoothly, which made me wonder why lately Dylan had been hinting at wanting me to buy him out. Not that I had the cash or credit for that. It seemed he was getting the itch to travel again, something he did a lot growing up. He was four years older than me, and he was out on his own while I was still in high school. He'd leave for a few months and do some weird job like working on a fishing boat in Alaska or cutting hay on an alfalfa farm. Then he'd tire of it and come back home. And Michelle was always thrilled to have him back in the house.
"There you are, Josh." It was easy to recognize Kennedy's voice because it reminded me of an excited kindergartner. She dropped her many bags, a personal handbag, a laptop case, a thermal lunch bag, on the floor between our seats and sat down. "Here." She handed me a red sucker. "It'll help you stay awake. I heard from someone else these presenters are more interested in selling their marketing team than giving out good ideas."
"Great." I took the sucker and unwrapped it. "Thanks." I stuck it in my mouth and decided it would also give me less opportunity to talk. And since Kennedy had one too . . .
Nope. She had no problem talking around the candy. "I'm thinking of a bar with just craft beer. What do you think? Too cliché'?"
Since I didn't have any real opinion on it I just nodded and muttered 'sounds good' around my cherry sucker.