The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends

by Kayley Loring

  “I love you too.”

  I had my reasons for staying away from her then, but I’ll never have any doubts about us now.

  Love is a river, but a relationship is a bridge, connecting two very different living things that belong together. Engineered and built with blood, sweat, and tears, across this fluid entity with unexpected depths, which flows in different directions at different times. It can be a pain in the ass to deal with, depending on the time of day or day of the week, but it’s always worth it once you get to where you want to be. And I want to be with Aimee. But I won’t give up on Keaton Bridges.

  25

  Aimee

  Greg Lee’s wedding is by far the fanciest and most formal nuptial event I have ever experienced. I have never seen two people with such perfect glowing skin marry each other before. It’s my first time at the storied Plaza Hotel, in the Grand Ballroom. And it’s the first time I get to see my boyfriend in a tuxedo. He is so devastatingly handsome and sexy I feel exhilarated every time I look at him.

  I am not the only female at this table who can’t take her eyes off of him either.

  Keaton’s lovely, waif-like and somewhat inanimate socialite girlfriend Quinn has basically been eye-fucking him ever since we were introduced to her.

  This has not gone unnoticed by Keaton.

  I don’t care how many times Chase has told me that Keaton’s a good guy and a good friend and a good investor. As far as I’m concerned, he’s an insecure asshole who’s jealous of everything that Chase has and everything that Chase is, and he’s nowhere near man enough to admit it. I’m surprised he’s never snuck into Chase’s room and shaved off his beautiful hair while he was sleeping.

  But honestly, Chase has been holding back so much resentment about Keaton too, and I’m getting pretty tired of being a witness to their dynamic. I may be the reason that things are coming to a head for them now, but I am just the tip of the iceberg … The tipsy tip. I may have had more to drink than I should have.

  Once the alcohol started flowing, so did the acerbic barbs between Keaton and Chase, just like that time we all rode the elevator after I rode Chase in his office.

  “When people see us together, they assume he’s my drug dealer, not my CEO,” Keaton jokes when someone at the table is surprised that Chase is a CEO of his own company at twenty-seven.

  “And they assume you’re just hanging out with me to make yourself look cooler—and they’re right.”

  There’s polite but awkward laughter, but the only thing that’s stopping me from giving Keaton a piece of my mind are the pieces of cake and sips of champagne that keep my mouth occupied. That and Chase’s hand, which is almost always stroking my bare back. His thumb brushes my skin, fingertips lazily caressing me while he chats with the man sitting next to him. Even when he’s sparring with Keaton, he’s able to subtly soothe me with his touch.

  And yet, I still want to knee Keaton in the balls.

  “So … Tracy, is it?” Quinn asks while twirling strands of silky blonde hair around her index finger and eyeing Chase.

  “Aimee.”

  “Right. How did you and Chase meet?”

  She leans toward me and away from Keaton, but he can hear us. He makes a point of watching me while I answer.

  “Oh, you know. We met at a bar, and then we ended up working together for a while. Not much of a story.” I shrug, and glance over at Keaton.

  He’s got that poker face again. He blinks slowly, then angles away from Quinn to strike up a conversation with the person next to him. I suppose he’s decided that it’s safe to let us girl-talk with each other.

  “How did you and Keaton meet?” I ask her.

  “Oh, it’s such a cute story,” she says. “We met at a mutual friend’s birthday party at Cipriani.”

  I wait for her to continue to the cute part of the story, but I guess that was it.

  “Cipriani downtown,” she elaborates. “Not 42nd Street.”

  “Awww. Cute!”

  “I know, right?” She leans in even closer and lowers her voice. “It’s interesting, though … From the way Keaton always talks about Chase, I thought they were really good friends. But they act more like …”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean. I think it’s just a phase or something.”

  “Maybe,” she says, tilting her head as she looks over at Keaton. “I think Keaton’s just jealous.”

  Well, maybe you’re not as vacuous as you seem, Miss Parker.

  “What’s that, babe?” Keaton raises his chin at her. “You think I’m just what?”

  Quinn ignores him and rolls her eyes at me. They are really good at posing for pictures together, but something tells me all is not well in their world.

  Fortunately, the deejay announces that it’s time for us to welcome the bride and groom to the dance floor, and everyone’s attention turns to Greg and his gorgeous wife. They do a choreographed routine to a mash up that begins with “Let’s Stay Together,” transitions to “SexyBack” and ends with “Crazy in Love” and the married couple waving guests onto the dance floor to come join them.

  I don’t picture Chase as the dancing type, so I don’t bother suggesting that we get out there, but he pushes his chair back, stands up and holds his hand out to pull me up.

  If someone had told me three months ago that one day I’d be dancing with Chase McKay to a Beyoncé song in a ballroom, I would have laughed in their hilarious insane face while secretly praying that it would happen.

  Well, it’s happening, and I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that the man’s got moves. He isn’t showy, and he doesn’t expend a lot of energy or take up a lot of space, but he’s dancing to turn me on and make me laugh. Mission. Accomplished. I grab his face and kiss him—mindful not to let myself get carried away as usual, because this is a family affair. As soon as I’ve let go of him, the mother of the groom dances over to say “hello” to Chase. He takes her hand, gives her a twirl, and leaves her fanning herself as she goes back to join her son. Greg jokingly shakes his fist at him and yells, “hands off my mom!”

  This is an awesome party, but I wonder how much longer we have to stay here.

  I’m about to ask Chase if we should look into getting a room, when Quinn drags Keaton over. It’s a mistake, because contrary to what Chase said, Keaton looks much less cool next to him. Quinn obviously agrees with me, because she starts swaying her hips and rolling her shoulders just a little too close to Chase.

  Chase takes both of my hands, and I watch Keaton’s face. Not only does he not look cool, he looks like he’s boiling over.

  When Quinn rubs her shoulder against Chase’s arm, Keaton blurts out, “Okay that’s it!”

  As if Chase is the one behaving inappropriately, Keaton steps up to him. “You wanna have a word with me in the men’s room, friend?”

  “Yeah I think it’s about time we had words, friend.” Chase lets go of my hands, kisses my cheek and tells me he’ll be right back.

  And then he storms off the dance floor, with Keaton.

  That’s when I realize, through a thin bubbly haze, that no matter how much I love him, the story of Aimee and Chase will always be the story of Aimee and Chase and Keaton.

  Or …

  Or is this all the story of Chase and Keaton and I’m just a guest star?

  Quinn seems amused by the drama, smiling with her eyes and mouth wide open as she watches them go.

  Tyler from the sales department moonwalks over to me and starts dancing around.

  I can’t do this. I signal for him to dance with Quinn, which he is more than happy to do. I tell Quinn that I have to go out to make a phone call, but I don’t think she hears me.

  I return to the table to get my purse. I need some air. I need to walk around, maybe try to find a store in Midtown that sells sage wands so I can cleanse the aura of this table.

  I’ll send Chase a text to let him know where I am.

  I have every intention of coming back when I feel better.

  I ju
st don’t know when that will be.

  26

  Chase

  Every step I take from the dance floor amps up a decade’s worth of unresolved tension between me and Keaton. My dad was right. We need to kick each other in the balls.

  As soon as we’re inside the men’s room, Keaton takes a swing at me, and since I’m ready for it I lean in.

  I’m giving you this one, you fucking pussy.

  It’s a blow, but it doesn’t hurt much. It just unleashes everything. He’s so surprised that he actually hit me, I take the opportunity to come at him hard with a punch to the chin that knocks him backwards.

  “You fucking dick!” he yells, rubbing his jaw. “You hit me!”

  “You hit me first, you lazy fucking trust fund baby!”

  He charges at me, trying to tackle me like a linebacker, but I use his momentum to knee him in the gut.

  “You piece of shit,” he says, through clenched teeth. “You need to think I’m lazy, don’t you? If it weren’t for me, you never would have gotten funded for as much as you did right out of the gate!”

  He shoves my chest and I almost lose my balance.

  Wrong.

  Delusional.

  Prick.

  “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be a CFO. Nobody else would have given you that title!”

  He swipes at me again, but I lean back and he misses my face by a mile. I shove him back into the wall. He sneers at me.

  “You only started this company because you knew nobody would ever hire you as a lawyer—except maybe a biker gang.”

  He comes at me again, trying to tackle me again. I wrap my arms around his torso, binding his arms so he can’t do anything.

  “I bet you love that people think you’re jealous of me!” he spits out.

  “Actually, I’m too happy living my life to give a shit what people think—you should give it a try.”

  I let him go because it’s just pathetic seeing him struggle like this.

  He punches me in the stomach, and I punch him in the jaw again.

  “Owww! You fucking dick!” He cradles his jaw in his hand.

  I stretch out my fingers and flick my wrist because that fucker’s chiseled jawline is so fucking bony.

  He takes a deep, pained breath. “I can’t believe you fucked the girl I liked again.”

  “This is the only time it’s happened. And grow the fuck up. Aimee never liked you that way.”

  “Oh yeah? You gonna go for Quinn now too?”

  I give him a look. As if.

  “I don’t know what it is, but the rich girls just love the idea of slumming it with you, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, well. So do the rich guys, apparently.”

  I’m rubbing my stomach and he’s rubbing his jaw and we both grin at each other. Neither of us went for the nose or the solar plexus, or any body parts that could really get damaged. It was a quick, fair fight.

  “If you think I’m not loyal—fuck you. I walked away from Aimee out of loyalty to you and the company, but at some point it became more about her. If that pisses you off then there’s nothing I can say or do to change that. We’ll always have our differences, and if you decide you want out of the company, then do it. Just don’t you fucking dare try to convince yourself that I’m not loyal to you. Moron.”

  I watch his expression change, and know that he’s finally really heard me.

  The door to the men’s room opens and an elderly gentleman walks in, nods at us as he heads for one of the stalls.

  Keaton and I go over to the sinks to wash our hands. When our eyes meet in the mirror, we both start laughing. We don’t have to say anything—we both know we’re thinking the same thing. That felt so fucking good.

  “Dick” he says, under his breath.

  “Fuck you,” I whisper.

  “Thanks for not breaking my nose. You really are a thoughtful guy.”

  “About time you figured that out. Idiot.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, smiling, then stares down at his reddened knuckles. “I have a feeling I’ll be breaking up with Quinn tonight.”

  I don’t know what to say, other than: “You deserve better.”

  “Yeah. Tell that to Aimee.”

  I cock an eyebrow.

  He pats me on the back.

  “Kidding. You’re a cute couple. You’re a lucky guy. Maybe I am jealous.” He holds the door open for me.

  “Yeah.” I pat him on the back. “I know.”

  When I get back to the table and don’t find Aimee there, I scan the room looking for her.

  “Have you guys seen my girlfriend?” I ask Tyler and Quinn.

  Tyler shakes his head, vehemently. “No and I definitely did not ask her to dance.”

  Quinn says, “I think she had to go outside to make a phone call.”

  That’s when I notice that her purse isn’t there. I check my phone for a message from her, but there isn’t one. When Keaton gets back to the table and finds Tyler with Quinn, he buttons up his jacket and walks off to chat up a bridesmaid. When he decides to move on, he moves on.

  I expect to find Aimee in the foyer, but she’s not there. I think for sure I’ll find her in the lobby, but she’s not there either. I walk out to the front entrance of the hotel—no sign of Aimee anywhere.

  I call her phone, which goes to voicemail after four rings. I send her a text with a bunch of question marks.

  It’s so unlike her to disappear like this.

  I go back to wait around outside the ladies’ room, checking my phone for a reply that never comes.

  I wonder if she somehow saw or heard me and Keaton fighting and it pissed her off.

  Would it piss her off?

  Yeah. It would.

  I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have left her to go off with him. I don’t blame her if she’s mad at me.

  I call her again, leaving a message this time.

  I try her business cell phone, just for the hell of it, but that goes straight to voicemail.

  After doing one full tour around the ballroom without finding Aimee, I decide to call Tim the driver to have him bring the car up front.

  By the time he’s picked me up, I’ve called her phone three more times. I don’t even know if she knows her way around Midtown. Maybe she just got a car home.

  Five minutes after telling the driver to take me back to Aimee’s place, I get a call from Aimee’s phone.

  “Thank fuck—where are you?”

  “Chase?” It’s not Aimee’s voice. “It’s Roxy. She left her phone in the bathroom. Why do you keep calling—isn’t she with you?”

  Shit.

  I tell Roxy to tell Aimee to call me as soon as she gets home, if she gets home, but that I’m going back to my place to see if she went there since our plan was to stay at my place tonight.

  Fucking Keaton.

  It’s as much my fault as his that I keep letting him get between me and Aimee.

  I punch the passenger door.

  “We’ll find her, Mr. McKay,” the driver says. “I got all night. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

  “Thanks, man.” I massage my aching hand. “It just might take all night.”

  I’ve felt a little sick to my stomach ever since I got the call from Roxy, but once we get to my place and Aimee isn’t there, I feel a level of panic that I’ve never really felt before. What if I’ve not only lost Aimee, but I actually lost Aimee? What if something’s happened to her?

  I have Tim drop me off at Bitters, thinking maybe she figured it would be poetic for us to find each other there again, but she’s nowhere to be found.

  Again, I call Roxy to see if Aimee’s showed up. She hasn’t heard from her.

  When Tim asks me if there’s anywhere else that I want to go, I look out into the street and see a couple making out in the back of a cab, and it hits me.

  If she decided to go anywhere besides home, and there’s still any hope of us being together, there is one other place she w
ould go. Now, instead of feeling panicky in my gut, I’m excited. I know where she is. I’m going to find her.

  “Yeah,” I say. “There is.”

  27

  Aimee

  I can’t believe I’m here without Chase. I can’t believe I’m here, wandering around in my sleeveless flowing evening gown and heels, with a champagne buzz, arms wrapped around myself like I’m doing a re-make of Avril Lavigne’s “I’m With You” video.

  Fortunately, it is not “a damn cold night.” It’s a warm and humid summer night. Once I’d left the hotel and realized that I didn’t bring my phone with me, I just walked around, huffing and puffing. When I saw the entrance to the subway station I stood in front of the steps, trying to decide if I should go back now, but a bunch of people were trying to get around me. Being the Midwestern girl that I am, I apologized for standing in their way and followed the flow of the crowd down into the station.

  I’ll just get on the first train that comes, I thought to myself. I’ll get off at the next stop.

  The first train that came was the Q, and when I realized it would take me all the way back to Brooklyn, I figured I should just go home and find my phone so I could call Chase. But then I thought about how he didn’t have his phone on him that Sunday night when I was trying to get in touch with him about my new job.

  My God, it feels like so long ago.

  I started replaying that whole night in my mildly inebriated mind, and before I knew it, I had missed my stop and the train was in Coney Island.

  My first stop at Luna Park was the Cyclone. Somehow it felt safer to be standing in line by myself and riding an old roller coaster on my own than walking around the amusement park. But it’s such a nice night, and it’s so crowded, I’m sure there’s really no reason to be nervous about being alone.

  I make my way to the Zoltar machine. I certainly did ride the winds of change, he was right about that. At times, things did seem to be out of touch. Like right now, for instance. I find a dollar bill in my purse, smooth it out and feed it into the machine. The creepy animatronic fortune teller blinks and comes to life. He says the same thing he said the last time. “You must live each day as if it is your last …” Sure, Zoltar. Doin’ it.