by Claire Adams
When my thirty minutes was nearly up, I practically ran to the phone store hoping there hadn’t been any setbacks in repairing my phone. I was greatly relieved when I realized the shop assistant did, in fact, have my phone waiting for me.
“Here you go,” he said as he handed it to me already turned on. “I even out a fresh battery in it for you so you wouldn’t have to wait for it to charge. Shouldn't give you any more problems. If it does, just bring it back.”
“Thanks so much,” I said as I rushed out of the shop and headed straight for a quiet alcove to sit and check my texts. Sure enough, the message Brooke had sent me the night before was there just waiting to be read. With trembling fingers, I opened it.
Hey, Emerson. I'm glad to hear your dad is better and going to make a full recovery. That's great news. However, regarding the other stuff you messaged me… I'm sorry, but I couldn't even get through all of it. First of all, I can't believe you genuinely thought I’d have called the cops on you guys. Seriously?! I’m actually insulted.
But that’s not what has me so heartbroken. That would be your lying to me this whole time. And not about who your mom is. That’s understandable. What isn’t understandable is you trying to play me. And you did a pretty damn good job. But I’m done.
I know what's been going on with you and Melissa. Or is it her and multiple other girls? Whatever. The point is I can hear you and whoever when you're participating in your extra-curricular activities. Yes. I can hear you through the wall into my room. And just let me say how classy it was that you started going at it with some bimbo only a few minutes after sending me this message. Just classy, Emerson, real classy.
Also, you’re gonna need a new lab partner. I've arranged with our professor for Garrett to be my new partner. I cited “irreconcilable differences” as the reason I needed a change.
The saddest thing about all of this is I had genuinely changed my mind about you and thought you were different. Thought you were actually a decent guy that I could see myself with. Shame on me for actually let down my walls for you, for believing I could trust you.
Thanks though, for showing me the real you – through my bedroom wall.
Please don't ever speak to me again.
Goodbye, Emerson.
Brooke
I wanted to throw up. Emotions I couldn’t describe if I wanted to rolled through me. I wanted to punch something. Someone.
Chris.
I jumped up and almost fell over I was so frustrated and angry. All that time, I hadn't given much thought to the fact that Chris' bedroom was next to Brooke's. Knowing that every time Chris had brought a girl home, Brooke had thought it had been me getting it on with the girl made me sick.
It was a disaster, an absolute disaster. If she stopped reading my text before the end, the odds are she probably hadn't even read the part of my message where I had poured out my heart. Not that it would have mattered, considering what she thought of me. Considering she imagined I was a womanizer like Chris.
And, what was even worse, that scumbag Garrett seemed to be weaseling his way in.
“Alright, Emerson, take a breath. Calm down. There has to be a way to make this right, to clear up this mess. There has to be!” I said to myself.
Then an idea hit me. There was only one way to do this. I took off at a sprint, almost knocking over a cluster of unsuspecting shoppers as I bolted to my car. After a sprint through the parking lot, I was out of breath. I jumped in my truck, hit the ignition, and took off with tires screaming. I was a man on a mission.
I had somewhat regrouped by the time I knocked on the door.
Leslie opened the door and her eyes widened with surprise as she saw me standing there. “Uh, hi, Emerson,” she said uneasily.
“Hey, Leslie. Can I come in?” I asked.
“Um, Brooke's not here, she's at her RAG meeting and-”
“Yeah, I know. Her car isn’t here. Look, this is kind of an emergency. I've gotta talk to you. Please?”
She nodded. “Alright. Come on in.”
I stepped into the living room and immediately began to spill everything. I told her about what had happened with me and Brooke. Everything, from the beginning to the end. I told her how I felt about Brooke. The words just started tumbling out of my mouth like an avalanche — uncontrollable and with a great force — and I didn't stop until I'd brought every last detail out into the open.
When I was done, Leslie sat there with a shocked expression on her face.
“This is all true? All of it?” she asked.
“Everything.”
“And, you really feel that way about her?”
“Absolutely. She's the most amazing woman I've ever met. Ever.”
Leslie breathed in deeply and then nodded. “Well then, we've gotta fix this mess. I’m sorry I messed up by calling the cops and causing that whole misunderstanding, so I need to help you fix it.”
I muttered a silent prayer of thanks before looking at Leslie. “Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“She's my best friend, Emerson, and I want her to be happy. And after everything you've just told me, if you really feel that way, I think you're the kind of guy who can actually make her happy.”
“I know I can, if she'll just give me one more chance.”
“Alright, well, I think I've got a plan. Do you have a voice recording app on your phone?”
“I do.”
“We're going to need that.”
“Okay,” I replied.
“And, what are you doing tonight?”
“Whatever it takes to win Brooke back,” I replied without hesitation.
“That's the answer I wanted to hear. You own a decent suit? Something dashing that you’ll look totally gorgeous in?” she asked.
“I do.”
“And, can you get a picnic basket together by seven this evening?”
“Not a problem. I know exactly what she likes. Is this for a picnic?”
“Kind of. There's a charity bachelor auction that Brooke is co-chairing tonight. One of my friends from drama class is one of the bachelors, but he doesn't really want to do it. I'll convince him to switch places with you so you'll be up for auction. And if everything comes together like I'm hoping it will, Brooke is going to be the winning bidder on you, my friend. Just do everything I tell you to and Brooke will be yours by the end of the night. Come on, we don't have much time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Brooke
The rumbling of a V8 engine conveyed that Garrett had arrived to pick me up and take me to the bachelor auction. I did one last make-up check to make sure everything looked perfect since I’d be in the limelight as co-chair — it did. I smoothed a hand over the black cocktail dress I'd chosen to wear and admired the new pair of heels I'd picked up earlier with a smile. I couldn’t help thinking it was a shame Emerson wasn’t going to see me all glammed up. Then I wanted to slap myself for even thinking about him. I shook the thought from my mind and locked up the apartment to head down to the car.
Garrett, as he had before, was waiting next to his Mustang holding the passenger door open for me. He was dressed in a light beige suit and I had to say, he looked pretty attractive.
“Well, hey there, gorgeous!” he beamed with a toothy smile. “I do believe I might be a little weak in the knees!”
“Thanks,” I said with a nervous chuckle. The compliment was nice, but there was still something about him I couldn't quite put my finger on that felt a little off. I told myself it wasn’t him; it was my past experience with men. It was at least a distraction from thinking about Emerson who, despite all my best efforts to forget, remained constantly running through my thoughts. Damn him.
Garrett and I headed over to campus, making light conversation along the way. As I listened, I wondered if my uncertain feeling about Garrett was there because he always seemed to have the perfect responses to whatever I said, and he was really well-informed on . . . well, pretty much everything, it seemed. A
dmittedly, it was kind of difficult to escape his charm.
As we rolled through campus, Garrett's car certainly turned a few heads. I could feel people staring as I stepped out of the beautiful, gleaming vehicle dressed to the nines with a dapper-looking man on my arm.
“Shall we?” Garrett said as he held his arm for me to take and nodded his head toward the main hall where the bachelor auction was to be held.
“We shall,” I replied with a smile.
The team had done a great job decking the place out. Everyone was dressed to kill, to top it off. It was an awesome sight to see, and I felt proud of our RAG team for having pulled it off so perfectly. We walked through the main entrance, where Garrett paid his entry fee (even though it wasn't as if he was gonna be placing any bids), before we headed up to the stage and over to the desk I'd be sitting at with Stacy. The audiovisual guys were still setting up the microphones and cables. I looked around, but it seemed Stacy hadn't arrived yet, so Garrett took a seat next to me in the chair Stacy would later occupy.
One of the other volunteers from RAG saw me and came over to have a quick chat about microphone placement and a question one of the bachelors had asked. While I was talking to her, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Garrett take his phone out of his pocket. He started typing something on it and that strange smile spread across his lips again — the smile that made me feel distinctly uncomfortable. When I was finished with my conversation, he quickly slipped the phone back into his pocket, seemingly unaware that I had noticed him sending messages on it.
I checked the time. “Hmm, I think we may have been a little earlier than needed,” I commented. “There's still a little bit to go.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I just assumed there would be more traffic on the way. Better safe than sorry though, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Hey, they have drinks for sale just outside in the hall. You want one?” Garrett asked.
“Sure.”
“I think there was fruit punch, tea, soda, or coffee. What’s your poison?”
I chuckled. “I think I'll go with the fruit punch.”
“I'll be back in a minute.”
He stood and walked off the stage and then headed out into the hall. I noticed his phone lying on the chair. It had obviously slipped out of his pocket when he'd stood up.
I knew I shouldn't, but a burning curiosity compelled me to pick it up and have a look at what he’d been typing. It was that gut instinct I had ignored so many times with Andrew. There had just been something about the look in his eyes and the smile on his lips while he'd been typing that message that had me incredibly suspicious.
I swiped the simple L-shaped code I’d seen him do several times and hoped it was right. The screen lit up. I knew it wasn't right, and it wasn't something I'd normally do, but my sixth sense had been tingling furiously about this guy, and after everything I’d dealt with in the man department, I was at a point of stepping over the line to make sure I didn’t pick another d-bag to let my walls down for.
I glanced at the screen to find his text messages still open with some guy named Nick. As I read through them, my jaw dropped and my blood began to boil.
Nick: So, you gonna seal the deal with the uptight chem partner tonight?
Garrett: Not tonight, unfortunately. She's a tough nut to crack, but she'll put out soon enough. They always do.
Nick: It's that Mustang, man. The rumble of that V8 hits 'em right where they need it.
Garrett: LOL! It's a vibrator with wheels.
Nick: Did you give her the bullshit story about restoring it from scrap with your dad?
Garrett: Yep. And like they always do, she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Nick: Awesome. Well, don’t take too long baggin’ that one. I’m still two ahead of ya.
Garrett: No way! I’m at 12! And I've had blowjobs from another 8 on top of that. No way you’re at 14.
Nick: I am. And, I have 3 videos. Bonus points if you can get video of the uptight chick. She's smokin' hot, dude. I wouldn't mind a look at that naked.
Garrett: You know you'll be the first to get the video when it happens. Note that I said WHEN, not IF. And-”
The stage door slammed, and I looked up to see Garrett coming back. With my heart pounding in my chest and anger and disgust gushing through my veins, I quickly locked up the phone again and slipped it back on the chair. I couldn't say anything to him, of course. Doing so would mean I revealing that I'd snooped around in his phone. But I didn’t need to say anything. I’d learned what I needed to know and I'd never speak to the scumbag again after tonight. I'd find an excuse, and he'd be gone. When he handed me the glass of punch and smiled that fake, insincere smile of his at me, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more — vomit or throw the drink in his face.
“Thanks,” I said, doing my best to keep my emotions in check.
Luckily, at that moment, Stacy showed up to divert my attention and rage.
“You should go find a seat with the audience there,” I said to Garrett. When he stood, his phone was still in the chair. “Oh, look, you left your phone on the chair. Don't forget it.”
“Thanks,” he said as he picked it up. “I'll see you later, beautiful.”
I pressed my lips tightly together in a forced smile and nodded as I watched him go, seething with disgust and anger as he did, but managing to keep it under control.
Leslie passed Garrett as he walked through the stage doors She was walking quickly, like a woman on a mission. I’d seen the look on her face before. Pure determination. Something was up.
She saw me at the desk on stage and made a beeline straight for me just as the stage lights came on and the other lights started to dim.
She ran up onto the stage and my eyes widened. “Les, what are you doing? You've gotta get off the stage; we're starting!”
“Meet me backstage at intermission, alright?” she said with urgency coloring her voice. “It's really super important! You are going to want to know about this.”
“Alright, alright, backstage at intermission! Got it. Now go, off the stage!”
“Be there!” she demanded as she hurried off stage.
Stacy nudged me in the ribs as I watched Leslie disappear into the shadows of the side stage. I couldn’t imagine what could be so important to have her acting as if it were some sort of emergency.
“You ready?” Stacy asked.
I nodded. “Let's get this show on the road.”
She smiled, stood from her seat, stepped behind the first podium, and took a microphone. I followed her lead and picked up the second mic that had been set up at a my own podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, the sound of her voice echoing through the crowded hall as it vibrated from every speaker. “Welcome to tonight's RAG charity bachelor auction! We have a stunning lineup of eligible bachelors who are just waiting to take you on the date of your dreams! I hope you're ready to bid and bid generously!”
A cheer resounded through the auditorium.
“It certainly sounds like you are ready! I won’t keep you ladies waiting. Please welcome our first bachelor of the evening, Calum Jones!”
A tall, handsome guy in a white suit sauntered onto stage holding a bouquet of flowers and a smile beaming from his bearded face. I turned to the first page of my booklet and began to read.
“Calum is twenty-two years old and a member of our own Blue Devil basketball team where he plays first-string point guard. Calum’s hobbies include playing the drums, recording and editing videos, and cooking Mediterranean cuisine…”
The first half of our bachelor auction took about an hour. But when the time came for an intermission, I did what I had to do to help Stacy and then hurried to the backstage area to meet Leslie, curious as hell about what her emergency was. She was there waiting, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.
“You took your sweet time!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, I had to tally up the bids so far bef
ore I could get backstage. What's the problem? Is everything alright? Are you alright?”
“I'm fine. But there's been a major, major screw-up involving you! And, since part of it was my fault, I'm doing what I can to make it right.”
I scrunched my forehead and peered at her in a confused state. “Screw-up? How? What exactly happened? What are you talking about?”
“Hard to explain. Just watch this.”
She tapped a few times on her phone and brought up a video for me to watch. I was surprised to see our neighbor Chris. It seemed to be a hidden recording. The bottom half of the screen was covered by material, evidently someone's pocket, in which the phone had been hidden.
“You listening?” asked Les as she held her finger over the play button on the screen.
“Sure. But what on earth does our neighbor Chris have to do with anything?”
“Just listen, and you'll see.”
She hit play, and the voice that came from the phone speaker immediately cut straight through my ear-drums, and traveled directly into my heart: Emerson.
“Hey, man,” Emerson said.
“Dude,” a very drunk-looking Chris replied.
“Are you seriously wasted at three o’clock in the afternoon?”
“What? It’s a Saturday,” Chris mumbled.
“Are you planning on having another party tonight? You know you can’t be loud again. You’re on probation.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Mom. It’s just gonna be a couple of the girls coming over a little later.”
“Girls? As in more than one?” Emerson asked.
“Well, at first, man. Only one of them is gonna stay. I’m a one woman at a time kinda man, ya know, bro,” Chris said with an inebriated laugh.
“One at a time, huh? Tell me, Chris, how many different girls have you had over just this month?”
Chris laughed loudly and obnoxiously before replying. “Dude, I've been killing it! I think eight or ten different chicks, just this month. How's that for playing the game, bro?!” He laughed again and then reached for a beer, from which he drank a hefty swig.