Game Changer

by Beth Orsoff

  “Not your pants!” I didn’t mean to shout; it just came out that way. “Sorry, I only meant I can do your jeans next if you want, but I can’t mix the lights with the darks in one load.”

  He seemed confused, as if he’d never washed his own clothes before, which was obviously ridiculous, but he said, “Of course.”

  I grabbed the white shirt and ran to the laundry room while he zipped up.

  Chapter 56

  Jake

  She wants me, she doesn’t want me, she wants me, she doesn’t want me. Maybe Mark was right. Maybe she really was crazy. Her neighbor was. And her sister. It wasn’t a stretch to think she was too.

  He sipped his wine and contemplated his next move. Even if she was crazy, he still wanted to sleep with her. It just made life more complicated. He glanced around the colorful living room and realized he’d been sitting in this same spot when she’d given him the just-be-honest-with-me speech. Shouldn’t honesty be a two-way street?

  He downed the rest of his wine and followed the trail of light until he found her in a small alcove off the kitchen. She was spraying something on the stains in his shirt, then meticulously rubbing each spot with her finger. “You must really like doing laundry.”

  She jumped and stared at him, then looked away just as quickly. “Sorry, you startled me. I thought you were in the living room.”

  “I was,” he said. “And now I’m here. With you. Is that a problem?”

  “No problem,” she parroted back, then tossed his shirt in the washer. She pressed a few buttons and the machine clicked, then the sounds of rushing water filled the small space. “I’ll get you a T-shirt,” she said without looking up.

  “I’m comfortable like this.” Although it was obvious that she wasn’t since she refused to look at him.

  “Well, I’d be more comfortable if you were wearing a shirt.”

  She tried to slide past him, but the doorway was narrow and he easily blocked her way. The chase was over. He was bringing this to a head. “Samantha, what’s going on here?”

  “I’m trying to get you a T-shirt and you’re standing in my way.” He knew she intended for it to sound like a joke, but he heard the tremor in her voice.

  “And do you always take everything so literally?”

  She finally smiled. “You know, you’re not the first person to accuse me of that.”

  He smiled too, happy to see her relax, if only momentarily. “So it’s true then?”

  “Sometimes,” she said and pushed him to the side with her shoulder so she could pass. “I can’t talk to you without a shirt. I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter 57

  Samantha

  Holy smokes. I thought if I didn’t get out of that laundry room, I might jump him again. This time I didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk. Unless the wine fumes had gone to my head. That must’ve been it—red wine, plus scented laundry detergent, plus shirtless Jake equaled intoxicating. And I hadn’t eaten all day. Hungry people did crazy things. It was a well-documented phenomenon.

  I grabbed an oversized T-shirt from my dresser and was headed back downstairs when my phone, which was still in my pocket, pinged.

  A text message from Whitney: Are you being good?

  I texted back: Define good?

  Samantha!!!!! You didn’t contact him, did you?

  No.

  Good.

  I placed the phone on the dresser facedown. Walk away, Samantha. She doesn’t need to know. But my conscience got the better of me. Stupid conscience.

  I picked up the phone and typed: Jake’s here. I didn’t invite him. He just showed up. I’d give her the whole story tomorrow. No doubt she’d enjoy the part where Mr. Marsh attacked him.

  I should’ve turned off the phone and run. But of course I didn’t.

  Whitney: I’m coming home.

  Me: Noooooo. DO NOT COME HOME.

  Whitney: Be there soon.

  Fuck!

  I tossed the T-shirt to Jake and he pulled it over his head.

  “Should I be embarrassed that your shirt fits me?” he asked, glancing down at the logo on the front.

  “Not at all. It’s huge on me.” It was a swag gift from a low-budget indie movie Whitney had worked on. But she had so many swag shirts that she’d given this one to me.

  He returned to the couch and I joined him, leaving a seat cushion’s worth of space between us. He reached for his empty glass. “Could I possibly trouble you for some more wine?”

  Yes, but the clock was ticking. Unless the traffic was really bad, which it could be in Hollywood on a Saturday night, it would only take Whitney fifteen minutes to get from Jake’s place to mine. “Maybe we should go out for a drink.”

  He seemed surprised. “Normally I’d say yes, but I’m not really dressed for it.”

  He didn’t say, “and neither are you,” but I wasn’t. At least he was wearing jeans with his T-shirt. I was wearing yoga pants. But I didn’t care. “We can go someplace casual. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”

  “I’ve got a pizza in the car. I could go get it.”

  He drove around with a pizza? That one couldn’t be ignored. “Why do you have a pizza in your car?”

  And that’s when he told me how he’d happened to be sitting outside my house when Mr. Marsh had accosted him. I was equal parts excited (that he wanted to see me again) and offended (that he’d just assumed I’d be sitting home alone on a Saturday night).

  Chapter 58

  Jake

  He didn’t tell her that had her crazy neighbor not attacked him, he’d be at a movie right now. She seemed pleased that he’d driven over to her house to see her, even if he hadn’t been invited, so he went with it and let her think he would’ve waited for her all night. But now she was acting all offended, and it was too late to come clean. This was not his night.

  “You’re lucky I came home when I did,” she said. “I could’ve been out for the night.”

  “It was a risk I was willing to take in the hopes of seeing you again.” He knew that was the right answer because she smiled and leaned in. Game on!

  Then tires squealed in the driveway, and they both turned toward the front window. A few seconds later, the door banged open and Whitney stormed in, with Michael close behind.

  They both jumped up from the couch, but Jake was the first to speak. “What are you two doing here? You’re supposed to be at my place.”

  He’d directed his question to Michael, but it was Whitney who replied. “And you’re supposed to be on a date!”

  “Sorry, bro,” Michael said, “I tried to stop her.”

  Samantha spun to face him. “You had a date tonight? So that whole story about wanting to see me again was a lie?”

  “No, I—”

  But she waved her hand in front of his face and started pacing. “What happened? Lydia cancelled on you, so you figured you’d come here for a booty call instead? Samantha’s so desperate she’ll welcome Sergeant Bishop with open arms, and open legs!”

  “Who’s Sergeant Bishop?” Michael asked.

  “You told her?” Jake shouted at Whitney, who responded with an eye roll. “Of course, dickhead, she’s my sister. And why are you wearing my shirt?”

  There were so many misconceptions to correct, Jake didn’t even know where to begin. But the only person in the room whose opinion mattered to him was Samantha’s, so he started there. “I don’t know what your sister told you—”

  “The truth,” Whitney interjected.

  He shot her a venomous look, then turned back to Samantha. “Lydia is an ex-girlfriend of mine who I still see from time to time.”

  Samantha crossed her arms across her chest. “For booty calls?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “occasionally. But that hasn’t happened in months.”

  “Until last night,” Samantha said.

  That one caught him by surprise. “No, I was with you last night.” Had she been so drunk that she didn’t remember?

  “Until y
ou practically pushed me out the door,” she said.

  “You were the one who said you needed to leave. All I did was call you a cab.”

  “And if you were a gentleman, you would’ve driven me home.”

  “If I drove you home, I wouldn’t have been a gentleman! I would’ve taken you upstairs and fucked you six ways to Sunday like I wanted to.”

  Whitney slammed her giant purse onto the coffee table, forcing everyone to look her way. “Over my dead body!”

  Jake could see their family dynamic perfectly. Whitney played the drama queen, and Samantha was the nice sister who cleaned up the mess. Jake glared at Whitney. “I’d be happy to arrange that.”

  “And I’d be happy to give you a shiner on your other eye.”

  They all heard the loud buzz and turned toward the kitchen.

  “The washing machine,” Samantha said. “Your shirt’s done.”

  Whitney turned her ire on Samantha. “You’re doing his laundry now? What’s next? He’s moving in and you’re cooking breakfast for him every day?”

  “Give it a rest, Whit. It’s one shirt. How many times have I done your laundry?”

  “That’s different,” Whitney said, “I’m family.”

  Samantha opened her mouth as if to reply, then closed it again. Michael took advantage of the momentary lull. “I think we could all use a drink.”

  Jake agreed, but the air was so charged he was afraid to move.

  Chapter 59

  Samantha

  It was a standoff between Jake and Whitney. Jake blinked first. “I’m going home.”

  “Excellent idea,” Whitney said. “And I’d like my shirt back.”

  And I would’ve liked to wring her neck. I could’ve had a nice evening with Jake, maybe even popped my cherry again, if Whitney hadn’t interfered. I’d told her not to come home. But did she listen? Of course not. And now I was the one who had to fix everything, as usual.

  “Keep the shirt,” I told him. “It’s mine, not hers.” I turned to Whitney, daring her to contradict me, but she didn’t. She knew better.

  “I’ll catch a ride with you if you don’t mind,” Michael said.

  “You’re leaving?” Whitney cried.

  Michael grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Just for the night, sweetheart. I think you and Samantha need some alone time.”

  “No, we don’t,” I said. The only person I wanted to be alone with was Jake, and he was leaving. I considered asking him to stay, but with Whitney in the house, I knew it would’ve been pointless.

  “Why don’t you walk me to the car,” Michael said as he pulled her to the front door and slammed it shut behind them.

  As soon as we were alone again, I turned to Jake. “I’m so sorry about all this.” I didn’t just mean Whitney and Mr. Marsh. Even I could see I was giving him mixed signals.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said, but without conviction.

  “Can I make it up to you? Dinner tomorrow night? Not here,” I added before he could object. “At a restaurant. And I won’t tell Whitney where we’re going.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. This is too much crazy, even for me.”

  “But you just said it wasn’t my fault!”

  “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Samantha. But you were right about us being better as friends.” Then he kissed my cheek and walked out the door.

  “You could’ve followed him,” Jenna said over margaritas and taquitos on the patio of our favorite Mexican restaurant the next afternoon. She and Tanner weren’t supposed to drive back from San Diego until Sunday night, but she’d texted me from the road to tell me they were coming home early. That’s when I knew he was history.

  I snapped my taquito in two, then set it aside. I had no appetite. “I think he made it pretty clear he’s done with me.”

  “He’s not done,” she said and grabbed another taquito from our shared plate. “He’s just tired of the drama. You need to keep Whitney away from him for a while.”

  “How am I supposed to do that when she’s living with me?” I hadn’t spoken to my sister since she’d barged in on me last night. I knew we’d make up eventually, we always did, but I needed time to cool off first.

  Jenna stirred her margarita with her straw. “Easy. Get rid of her.”

  “I can’t throw her out! She’s my sister.”

  “I’m not suggesting you toss her ass onto the street—not that she couldn’t use a little tough love. But she’s a married woman, for God’s sake. She should be living with her husband, not you.”

  I agreed, sort of. “The situation is unique.”

  “It’s not unique, it’s crazy. They had a fight. Big deal. That’s what couples do. They don’t walk out on each other on their honeymoon!”

  Even though I hadn’t been in favor of the marriage to begin with, I agreed with that too. “It’s not that she doesn’t love him; I think she just wants to be chased.”

  “Doesn’t she know the chase ends with the wedding? When you say ‘I do,’ they’ve caught you.”

  I laughed. “Apparently not Whitney.”

  We sipped our margaritas in silence, the only sound the slurping of tequila and crushed ice, until Jenna suddenly pulled her straw out of her drink and pointed it at me. “I know how you can fix this.”

  I wasn’t even sure which “this” she was referring to. “Me and Whitney? Or me and Jake?”

  “Michael and Whitney. Or there’s not going to be a you and Jake.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that? Divorce lawyers aren’t exactly known for their marriage counseling skills.”

  “Maybe not, but wedding planners are.”

  Chapter 60

  Jake

  “What happened to you?” Caroline asked as he strode past her desk Monday morning.

  If she were really psychic, shouldn’t she already know? But in the last thirty-six hours, he’d been accused of being a liar (by Samantha), a dickhead (by Whitney), and a shmuck (by Rita, who’d heard the story from both her brother and her husband), and he didn’t relish the idea of being called an asshole too, even if it was behind his back instead of to his bruised face. “Kickboxing accident,” he said and continued into his office.

  Caroline followed. “When did you take up kickboxing?”

  “This weekend.” He slipped his suit jacket off and tossed it onto the couch.

  “I don’t think it’s your sport,” she said as she folded the jacket and draped it over the back of one of his chairs.

  “I agree,” he replied without looking up from his phone. He was giving up on “kickboxing” aka Samantha. She’d turned his life upside down and inside out, and he hadn’t even slept with her. God only knew the shambles he’d be in if he had. Letting Michael move in with him just so he could get close to her? Not sleeping with her just because she was drunk? Sitting outside her house on a Saturday night like a lost puppy? Who was he? Not himself, that was for sure. He needed to cut his losses and move on. Maybe he’d even call Lydia and see if she still wanted to hook up. This was the longest he’d gone without sex since he couldn’t remember when, and obviously it was affecting his brain.

  “Selena Chase called,” Caroline said. “Twice.”

  He finally looked up. “Twice this morning?”

  Caroline nodded. “She sounded upset.”

  Great. Another insane woman to deal with. Maybe he should start repping only men. Then he remembered that Samantha’s crazy neighbor was a man. Maybe the problem was him. Maybe he was a magnet for lunatics.

  “And your mother called,” Caroline continued.

  He groaned. His mother was crazier than all the rest combined, neighbor included. “Did she say what she wanted?”

  “She said to tell you it’s nothing urgent, but you should call her back soon. And definitely by the end of the day.”

  Jake closed his eyes and blew out his breath. He could feel his neck muscles tightening and the pounding in his head strengthening. “Selena first. And would you
mind—”

  “Getting you coffee and a couple of Advil?”

  He smiled for the first time that morning. Caroline really was better than a wife.

  He spent half an hour he didn’t have to waste listening to Selena rail about her husband. Apparently once the soon-to-be ex had convinced her not to file for divorce, he’d gone back to his cheating ways. Selena hadn’t caught him in the act, but she’d read the text messages on his phone, and that was enough. She wanted him out of her life. Immediately.

  “Call Samantha,” Jake said, glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time.

  “Oh, Jake, can you do it for me?” she pleaded in her sultry Spanish accent. “This is so upsetting, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  If she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, then why had she just yakked his ear off for the last thirty minutes? But as the late Mel Morris, the original Morris in Morris, Mitchell & Jensen, used to say, You may think your job is to negotiate deals and dispense advice, but it’s not. It’s to provide whatever your client needs, whenever your client needs it. So Jake said, “Of course, Selena. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Call me anytime.” Then he hung up with her before she could ask for more.

  He barked Caroline’s name and she appeared in his doorway. “Call Samantha Haller’s office. Tell her Selena changed her mind. She wants to file right away.”

  Caroline shot him a sly grin. “Don’t you want to call her yourself?”

  If I wanted to call her myself, I wouldn’t have asked you to do it. But all he said was, “No.”

  “No? Why not? Did something happen?” She hurried into his office and sat down, as if his life were a soap opera and she was dying to watch the next episode.

  “Not now, Caroline.” Not ever, if he could avoid it.

  “Did you have a fight? Maybe I can help.”

  Which part of “not now” was unclear? “Please get my mother on the phone.” He might as well get all the crazy over with this morning.