Love Bites

by Rachel K. Burke

  He shrugged again. “I stopped wearing it a long time ago.”

  Just like that. No other explanation. He just “stopped wearing it.” You know, because everyone just wakes up one day and decides to stop wearing their wedding ring.

  I stared at him, incredulous. Finally, realizing I wasn’t going to let it drop, he sighed. “Listen, Justine, people sometimes… grow apart. Relationships change over time. But like I said, I love my son. He’s my whole life. So I have to do what I can… for him.”

  This heartrending speech was interrupted by our waitress, a tall, gorgeous blonde who looked identical to every other waitress in Los Angeles. She smiled at Vincent, clearly admiring the handsome, dark-haired gentleman seated next to me. Only I no longer saw him as handsome. I saw him as a number. Another number to add to the long list of Neanderthals on Justine Sterling’s master dating list.

  “Are you two ready to order?” she asked.

  Vincent looked at me expectantly. This was the moment of truth. He knew that at this moment, one of two things would happen. I would either a) decline dinner and demand to be taken home or b) accept dinner, thus insinuating that I wasn’t opposed to his affair proposal. Vincent was a lot of things, but he wasn’t an amateur at this game.

  Fortunately, neither was I.

  “You know,” I said, grabbing my menu. “I’m starving. Are you?”

  A subtle smile inched across Vincent’s lips. He nodded slightly, taking my free hand in his. This was it. I had agreed to dinner. He had me right where he wanted me.

  “You order first,” I urged him.

  I didn’t listen to his order. Instead, my eyes browsed the page until I found the most expensive item on the menu.

  “And for you, miss?”

  I smiled confidently and pointed to the astronomically high-priced beef rib. “I’ll have the 32-ounce rib, please. Medium well.” I paused, looking over the wine menu. “And actually, I’d like to order a bottle of your finest champagne, too.” I turned to Vincent. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” he insisted, waving his hand at the menu. “Whatever you’d like.”

  I knew he wouldn’t object. Even through my alcohol-fogged glasses, I saw him as he really was now. Vincent, with his expensive car, expensive clothes, and expensive home, was a façade. He was an image. On the outside, he had the perfect life. A perfect marriage, a perfect son, and a perfect job that allowed him to travel all over the world. But in reality, he had an unhappy wife, a lonely son, and a job that did nothing but contribute to both of those factors.

  And a man like Vincent certainly wouldn’t taint his ego and decline a beautiful woman an expensive meal. Especially in front of their beautiful waitress.

  I waited for our waitress to bring the champagne bottle, then downed one last glass before excusing myself to the restroom.

  “Hurry back,” Vincent called after me.

  I shot him an award-winning smile before walking away. Luckily, the bar area of the Penthouse was so crowded that it was easy to lose sight of someone.

  I snuck around the corner, down the elevator, and hailed a cab home, leaving Vincent all alone with a 32-ounce steak and lots and lots of wasted champagne.

  Chapter 6

  Renee’s house was covered in boxes. She and Dylan had moved into a condo prior to the unexpected pregnancy, so they were now transferring some of their items into storage to make room for the baby. She said they were going to start looking at houses soon.

  Renee was sitting upright on the sofa when I walked in, a silver laptop propped on her lap. She was the only person I knew who could wear an oversized t-shirt and a messy ponytail and still look gorgeous.

  “I know it’s a mess,” Renee said, without looking up from her laptop. She looked deeply focused. I felt like I was interrupting something.

  “It’s fine.” I stepped over a box to get to the loveseat. “Do you, um, want me to help you pack?”

  “No, it’s okay. Dylan will finish at some point.” Her eyes were still trained on the computer. Fixated on her latest project, no doubt. Renee was always embarking on some sort of new venture.

  I sat quietly on the loveseat and scanned the room while Renee finished typing. The only decorative items that remained were two aromatherapy candles and a black-and-white photo of Renee and Dylan that hung on the wall.

  “Sorry. I’m done.” Renee slammed her laptop shut like it had offended her with its distraction.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Oh, it’s… nothing.” The smile she was hiding indicated otherwise.

  “Renee.” I looked at her accusingly. “Spill.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Okay, but you can’t say anything because Dylan doesn’t know yet. Promise?”

  I placed my hand over my heart. “Grove’s honor.”

  As we both laughed simultaneously, the mention of our previous joke immediately invoked a flashback in my mind.

  It was the fall of 1998, the beginning of our sophomore year. Renee and I were smoking a joint in the Groves, the woods behind our high-school football stadium. We were supposed to be at the football game, according to our parents, but the only reason we’d gone to the game was to stalk our current love interests. After realizing they weren’t there, we immediately headed to the Groves.

  “Tell me the truth,” Renee said, taking a swig from the Budweiser can she’d hidden in her coat pocket. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Did what?” I knew exactly what she was referring to.

  “You know.” She rolled her eyes. “Derek. You had sex with him, didn’t you?”

  I hesitated. Derek Spaulding was the sole reason I’d come to the football game, and the second person I’d ever slept with. But because I was 15 and insecure, I’d hidden this from my friends so they didn’t judge me and think I was slutty.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” I insisted. “Especially Beth.” Renee’s friend, Beth Broadley, was still a virgin and I didn’t want to make her feel bad. I also suspected she judged us and thought we were slutty.

  Renee placed her hand over her heart. “I swear…” She looked around like she was seeking something sacred to swear on. Coming up empty, she looked back up at me and slurred, “Grove’s honor.”

  We laughed like this was the funniest saying ever created.

  Much like we’re doing now.

  “Okay.” Renee inched closer to me, something she always did when she was about to dish a secret. Like the close proximity somehow trapped the secret from getting out. “Have you ever heard of Faded? The denim company?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, they held an online indie artist contest and Electric Wreck was selected as one of their finalists.”

  “That’s great.”

  Renee shooed me with her hand. “No, what’s great is that I just convinced their marketing team to sponsor Electric Wreck’s next tour.”

  I could tell she was waiting for my enthusiastic reaction, but in truth I had no idea what that meant. “So… what happens now?”

  “They’ve agreed to give the band 25 grand to cover their touring expenses. And in exchange, the Faded logo will be on the band’s touring vehicle and all their touring flyers and promotional materials.”

  I had to hand it to her, for someone who had no marketing background whatsoever, the girl certainly had a knack for it. “Renee, that’s incredible. Dylan is going to be so excited.”

  “I know. My little rock star.” She smiled nostalgically at the black-and-white photo of them on the wall, then turned to me with a serious expression. “Now, let’s talk about the real reason you’re here.”

  The reason? There was a reason I was here? Renee never needed a reason to invite me over.

  She inched forward, even closer this time. This was serious. “I’m worried about you,” she said in a low voice.

  I shot her a confused look. “Worried? Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Justine. We’ve known each other since we were kids. You think I don’t kno
w when something’s bothering you?”

  Okay, so maybe I hadn’t been overly forthcoming about my lingering feelings for David, but come on. He was her ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t a favorable subject.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “I’m just having a little trouble adjusting, that’s all.”

  “Well, you don’t seem like you’re making much of an effort.”

  I flinched like I’d been slapped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you’ve been home for months, you’re not working, you’re not attempting to find work, and you’re living down in Cape Cod, away from everyone.” Renee looked down at the floor nervously. She hated confrontation. “It’s like… you’re not even trying to adjust. Like you don’t want to be here.”

  “Well, truthfully, I don’t.” I sighed. “I miss LA. A lot. And I miss…”

  “David?”

  And there it was, the elephant in the room. Even though Renee and I had made up and moved on, we’d never talked about it. Sure, we’d briefly talked about it, but we’d never really talked about it.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I miss him. Every day.”

  Her face softened. “Why don’t you ever mention him?” she asked. “You know I don’t care. Not anymore.”

  “But I care,” I said. “And by talking about it, it makes it… real.”

  Renee placed her right hand on her temple. She looked like half of her felt sorry for me and the other half wanted to kill me. “I don’t know why you do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This.” She gestured toward me. “You never tell me how you feel. You keep everything in. You’ve always done it.” She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t even know what really happened with you guys. I mean, I know you obviously fell for him pretty hard or else you wouldn’t have…” She looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Will you please just talk to me?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything. I want to know what happened then, and I want to know what’s happening now. I want to know everything.”

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. When I opened them, my best friend was staring at me, silently begging me to let her in.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Everything.”

  Los Angeles, CA

  April 2009

  I was the saddest girl to ever hold a martini. A walking Sex and the City episode. Minus the sex.

  I wished Renee was here. If she wasn’t home for a funeral, I would’ve called her for a long-distance cheer-up, but it wasn’t the most appropriate time. So instead, I resorted to sitting barefoot on the living-room floor, still wearing Renee’s gold dress, crying into a martini glass.

  Pathetic, really.

  I’m not sure what set it off, because I shouldn’t have been this upset. It wasn’t like I’d invested much time or energy into my relationship with Vincent. I think this was just the last straw. The end result of the bad-date build-up. I finally thought I’d found someone who was different, and he turned out to be worse than all of them.

  At first, it was quite comical. I chuckled to myself in the cab, wondering how long he’d wait at the table, how stupid he’d feel when our waitress realized he’d been ditched. I skipped into my kitchen, made myself a dirty martini, then sat down on my living-room floor and drank.

  And somewhere around the second martini, the humor faded.

  First, I thought about my parents, and the dreaded question that presented itself every time they called. “So, are you seeing anyone special?” It was the first thing they always asked. Well, technically the third, aside from the traditional “How are you?” and “How’s LA?” But the first two were just a buffer to get to the third question, the one they really wanted to ask.

  Even worse was their discouraged “oh” after I told them no. I could hear the disappointment echoing from 3,000 miles away. And forget about family parties. My mom would attempt to cover up my patheticness by telling my nosy relatives that I was “kissing a lot of frogs” when they asked about my dating life.

  You can only kiss so many frogs before your parents start to think you’re a lesbian.

  After thinking about it some more, I started to feel bad. It wasn’t my parents’ fault. I was an only child. I was their only hope for grandchildren.

  And then I cried.

  I cried because I felt like a huge disappointment. I cried because I was jealous of everyone else’s happy relationships. I cried because I was afraid of being alone forever.

  The sound at the door made me spill the remains of my drink onto the floor. Shit. I knew Vincent had my address, but I didn’t actually think he’d show up here. I was quiet for a minute, hoping he’d go away, but then I watched in horror as the knob turned and the door swung open.

  I could have sworn I had locked it behind me when I came in. No, I definitely had. But then how…

  “Justine?”

  I looked up and locked eyes with David. David in all his six-foot-tall gorgeousness, standing above me with a look of bewilderment on his face. I knew what I looked like. The drunken cry-fest had invoked a black mascara trail under my eyes and a ring of perma-snot under my nose. Not my sexiest moment.

  I opened my mouth to explain, fully expecting David to ask what the hell was wrong with me. But instead, to my surprise, he burst out laughing. And it wasn’t just a chuckle. The guy was in absolute hysterics.

  “Is this what you girls do when guys aren’t around?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. “You get dressed up, make martinis and cry? Is there a Lifetime movie marathon on?” He leaned forward and clutched his stomach.

  “It’s not funny,” I said, fighting back a smile. When I thought about what I probably looked like to someone else, it actually was pretty funny. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I left some stuff here. Renee said I could use the spare key and stop by. She said you wouldn’t be here because you were out on a…” A look of recognition came over him as his grin faded. He walked over and sat down next to me on the rug. “I’m guessing the date didn’t go well?”

  “He’s married.”

  “Ouch. Now I feel bad for laughing.” He took my chin in his hand and turned my face toward him. “Although you do look kind of funny having a depressing cocktail party on your floor.”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “I take it Renee didn’t tell you I was coming by?” he asked.

  I pointed to my phone. I had turned it off so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer Vincent’s phone calls, wondering where I’d gone. I wanted to make him wait. Make him feel as stupid as I did.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Nothing to talk about, really. He took me out to dinner, kissed me, then proceeded to tell me he was married like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

  “Hmm, let me guess. Makes a lot of money… drives a flashy car…”

  I nodded.

  “Typical. So what did you do?”

  “Ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne, a 32-ounce steak, then told him I was going to the bathroom and snuck out the back.” I grinned proudly.

  “Nicely done.” David looked like he was impressed. “Well, on that note, I say we go make a few more of these.” He took the martini glass from my grasp.

  I followed David into the kitchen, happy he’d come to my rescue. This was exactly what Renee would’ve done. She would’ve turned the unfortunate situation into a party.

  “There’s only one problem,” I admitted, as David passed me a glass.

  “What’s that?”

  “He’s my boss. Does that mean I have to quit?”

  “Absolutely not.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, like he’d majored in corporate adultery. “Here’s what you do. You walk into work on Monday like nothing ever happened. If he tries to bring it up, you casually tell him that you think you should keep your relationship strictly professional.” He paused, taking a sip of the martini. His
face puckered from the taste, and he took a straight shot from the vodka bottle instead. “The guy isn’t going to say shit. If he’s your boss, he could lose his job for pulling something like that.”

  Hmm. He had a point.

  “But seriously, though, why the tears?” He cocked his head to the side. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this, since you’re Renee’s best friend and all, but Justine, you’re gorgeous. You could have anyone you want. Was this guy really that great?”

  I thought back to all the days I had spent with Vincent, joking around in his office, flirting at happy hours. We shared the same sense of humor, I admired his intelligence, and I was crazy attracted to him. He was definitely part of the reason I was upset, but it was more than that.

  I was sick of the Vincents of the world. Sick of disappointing my parents. Sick of envying my best friend for having a great guy and wondering if my turn would ever come.

  In short, I was lonely.

  “I did like him,” I said. “I’ve dated a lot since I moved here, and I really thought that this time it was going to work out.”

  “LA’s a different scene, that’s for sure. But, like anywhere, you have to take the good with the bad. On the downside, there are a lot of douches on the dating market. On the upside, it’s 75 degrees year-round.” His eyes lit up. “Speaking of, I have an idea. You have a pool here, right?”

  I nodded. The pool was our apartment’s greatest selling point. It was heated, secluded, and open 24 hours.

  “I say we go for a swim and exchange worst-date-ever stories.” He tossed me a knowing look. “If anything will cheer you up, it’s the David Whitman dating rolodex.”

  I looked down at my outfit hesitantly. After the night I’d had, even the thought of selecting a bikini seemed exhausting. But David’s damn puppy eyes and taunting dimples were impossible to resist.

  “Fine,” I surrendered. “But you’d better have some damn good stories.”

  The pool was exactly what I needed. The warm water on my skin made my experience with Vincent seem like it was nonexistent. I felt like a kid again.

  When I was in the third grade, my father lost his job and we had to live with his parents for a year until he and my mother got back on their feet. While my parents were devastated, I was elated because my grandparents had a giant built-in pool in their backyard.