Breaking the Seventh

by Allie Gail

  Not that I’m without my own idiosyncrasies. I’ll be the first to admit, I could probably fill a notebook trying to list all my vices. Procrastination happens to be my personal forte. That means I tend to put things off until the last.

  Possible.

  Minute.

  Which explains why I am dashing across the lawn at 12:45 on Friday, arms laden with bags of dog food and Charlie’s cushion – not that he ever uses it but Myles might not want him sleeping on his furniture so I’m trying to be as considerate as possible here, since he’s doing me a favor.

  And why when the door opens I hastily shove the items into his arms with a quick, “Running late, gotta go, give me a call if you–”

  Except it isn’t him.

  Instead, an attractive woman with long, sable brown hair is staring at me over the doggie bed and sack of kibble in open-mouthed bewilderment.

  At my feet, Charlie’s yip sounds remarkably like a laugh.

  “Oh, crap!” Both hands clamp over my mouth in surprise, so my apology comes out muffled. “I’m sorry!” My stomach tightens uneasily as the most obvious of questions springs to mind. Who is this person and what is she doing here? For that matter, how long has she been here? I don’t recall seeing a strange car in his driveway when I left for work this morning, but then again I wasn’t paying much attention. Not that it’s any of my business what goes on over here, but if he’s seeing someone I’d like to know up front. I’ve never been one to play with toys that don’t belong to me and I don’t intend to start now.

  Laughing lightly, the woman turns to deposit the items on the carpeted floor beside her. “That’s okay. I have to warn you, though – I have three cats that might not be too happy with me if I bring home a dog.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I repeat stupidly. “I just assumed you were Myles.” The grainy profile picture comes back to taunt me, and I desperately try to unlock every detail I can remember. Is this the infamous Embry? I don’t know – the hair is similar, but the face seems rounder. How well do I really remember it, though? It was one obscure little thumbnail photo. God, surely the guy isn’t stupid enough to let that snake-in-the-grass back into his life!

  Is he?

  “Oh. Hey, Leah. Didn’t even hear the doorbell.” Myles appears behind the brunette, giving me a friendly smile before shifting his attention to her. “You shouldn’t run into any problems,” he says, handing her a manila folder and what looks to be a jump drive. “But if something comes up or you think of any more questions, just shoot me an email, okay?”

  “I will. Thank you so much for all your help. Oh, and I’ll let you know as soon as I decide which option to take as far as search engine optimization.” Beaming happily, the woman breezes past me on a cloud of floral perfume, half a dozen gold bangles clinking as she flutters a bejeweled hand. “Have a good weekend!”

  “Good luck with your launch, Vikki.”

  My tense muscles relax slightly. Vikki, is it? Then this isn’t his ex, after all. Judging by their brief conversation, she’s merely someone he’s been designing a website for.

  Oh man, I am way more relieved than I ought to be!

  Tearing my gaze away from Vikki – who, by the way, is driving a freaking Bentley for Pete’s sake – I realize that Myles is leaning with his shoulder against the open door, arms crossed, watching me with a slight smile.

  “Nice car,” I remark, for lack of anything more intelligent to say.

  “If you say so.” He seems amused, though I’m not entirely sure why.

  “Bet the insurance is a killer though. How much do you think full coverage would be for that thing?”

  “She’s a client, Leah.”

  “Hey – I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yeah, but I know that look.”

  “What look?”

  “That what-the-hell look you were giving me.”

  “I didn’t give you a look.”

  “If you say so,” he repeats, his grin spreading maddeningly.

  I’d like to kick him in the shin, just to rid him of some of that irritating smugness. Instead, I get to the point by announcing, “I brought Charlie over.”

  “I see that.”

  “And…um, his stuff.”

  “What’s with all the food? I thought you were only going to be gone until Sunday.”

  “I am. Just wanted to make sure you had enough.”

  “I’m starting to see why he’s so fat.”

  “He is not fat!” I protest indignantly. “My brother just happens to be a veterinarian and he says this dog is perfectly healthy. Just because he has a little Buddha belly…”

  “What do you say, pal? Is Mommy trying to turn you into a Saint Bernard?” Myles reaches down to scoop up Charlie, his eyes twinkling as he pretends to judge his weight. “You know, you could be right. He doesn’t weigh quite as much as a Sherman tank.”

  Impervious to the insult, Charlie wiggles happily while snuffling around with his nose. That dog would cuddle up to a rabid wolverine if he thought it would earn him tummy rubs.

  I scratch the tawny ears affectionately. “Promise me you’ll keep a close eye on him.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Myles assures me. “We’ll have a good time, won’t we, buddy? We’ll do guy stuff this weekend. No girls allowed.”

  “Oh…so you’re planning on having burping contests and lighting your farts on fire?”

  The look I get is one of mock horror. “What the hell kind of guys have you been hanging around with?”

  Laughing, I Eskimo-kiss my nose against Charlie’s head. My face is so close to Myles’ arm, I can smell his familiar scent. Mm…I don’t blame Charlie for wanting to be held like a baby. I wouldn’t mind being wrapped in those arms myself. “Okay. Well, I’m kind of in a hurry, so…”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I’m running late. My dad’s supposed to be here in like five minutes to pick me up, and I haven’t even finished packing my bag yet.” I know I have to get going, but I really don’t want to leave. I’d rather stay here and hope for a tummy rub of my own.

  He eyes me contemplatively. “You know, I still owe you dinner. So maybe when you get back, you’ll let me take you out. There’s this new place in Destin I’ve been wanting to try.”

  I’m caught completely off guard by this. Did I just hear him right? He’s asking me out, after insisting that anything involving dating would never happen? Well, this is an unexpected turn of events. It seemed to me that a casual fling was the most he was open to, at least for now. Wonder what changed his mind?

  Biting back an ecstatic grin, I opt to point out the obvious rather than give him an answer right away. “What happened to your no-dating policy?”

  He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve written in a clause that excludes girls who like terrible movies and aren’t ashamed to admit it.”

  Ten points for originality.

  “You know you liked it. Especially when they figured out they could use Roundup weed killer to poison the trolls.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re right. Stroke of genius. Should’ve been nominated for an Academy Award, that one.”

  “Ha! See, I knew you weren’t paying attention. That never happened.”

  “Busted.” His blue eyes continue to hover over me warmly. “So how about it?”

  I melt, of course. As if I’m about to say no! Whether I want to admit it or not, I’m crushing on the guy so hard he could probably talk me into anything at this point. How about we drive to Vegas and elope right now, Leah? Sure, why not! I signed us up to be test subjects for this new experimental growth hormone they’re developing for human butts. Sound good? Sounds great! Do you mind assisting my pregnant rattlesnake while she gives birth? Not at all!

  I’m doomed.

  “Okay,” I agree, trying my best to appear nonchalant. “But can we make it after next week?”

  “Why after? Aren’t you supposed to be off all next week?”

  I roll my eyes. “You know why! My birthday is nex
t Friday. Trust me, it’s better that we wait.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to wait.”

  “It’s better for me if we wait,” I clarify. I can see it now. We go out, have a wonderful time, I start letting myself hope this could actually go somewhere and then BAM. The curse strikes again. Next Friday he will inevitably decide to shave his head, move to Bangladesh and become a Hare Krishna. Or maybe he’ll admit he secretly preferred men all along. I have yet to actually turn a man gay, but hey, I’m young and there’s still time. The force of the seventh is strong.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?”

  “I prefer to call it not tempting fate.”

  “Fate can go jump off a bridge. What do you say? Monday night?”

  “Um…” Frowning, I nibble on my lip as I try to make up my mind. Against my better judgment, infatuation wins out over apprehension. There’s no way I can resist someone so irresistible. And who knows, maybe it’ll be okay. As long as I avoid him on my actual birthday…

  “Tuesday then,” he persists. “It’s the fourth. We can go see the fireworks.”

  “That does sound like fun,” I admit, relenting.

  “So Tuesday?”

  “All right. Tuesday.” I smile, and a million butterfly wings beat frantically against my ribs. It’s exhilarating just thinking about the possibilities.

  “Good. Now how about a kiss for me before you go?”

  Surprised by his request, but happy to oblige, I stretch myself up on tiptoes and plant a hasty kiss on his lips. It’s all I can afford right now. Anything else and it’ll be impossible for me to float back down to earth in time.

  “I really have to run,” I tell him reluctantly. “Dad’s going to be here any minute.”

  “Oh? Could that be him?” Not even bothering to hide his naughty smile, he nods in the direction of my driveway and the familiar Subaru Forester idling there.

  Great. Just great.

  I groan inwardly, wondering how long they’ve been there and how much they saw. Now, thanks to the kissing bandit, I’m sure to get the third degree all the way to Tennessee. Not from my dad, who is the quiet, nonintrusive type, but Louise – God love her – is one of those opinionated southern women who hides nothing and expects the same open honesty from everyone else. I adore her, I truly do, but ‘subtlety’ is a word that does not exist in her personal vocabulary.

  “You are the devil,” I inform him between clenched teeth.

  There isn’t an inkling of remorse in his laugh. “Have a good time.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Skipping off towards the Subaru, I turn to blow a kiss over my shoulder. “You be a good boy for Mommy! Stay out of the garbage!”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I was talking to Charlie, ya moron!”

  My dad rolls down the drivers side window so I can explain to him that I need five more minutes to finish packing. Beside him, Louise lowers her sunglasses and peers at me over them, a knowing smile tugging at her fuchsia-tinted lips. If I held out any hope that they missed seeing that kiss, I might as well forget it.

  No doubt about it.

  It’s going to be a very long drive.

  “Well. Someone has a hotsy-totsy new dog sitter, I see.”

  There it is, folks. Eight minutes and twelve seconds. I have to give her kudos – she held out way longer than I expected.

  “Uh-huh.” I pretend to be very interested in the passing scenery even though the only thing out there is a whole lot of nothing. Unless you count about sixty bazillion pine trees and that unidentifiable lump of roadkill we just passed.

  Undeterred, Louise presses on in her slow-paced southern drawl. “He a relative of Edgar and Bridget?”

  “No…he bought their house.”

  “That right? How about that. I didn’t even know they were lookin’ to sell it.”

  “Neither did I.” So of course, you can imagine my surprise when I found Mr. Hotsy-Totsy swimming around butt naked in their pool. I almost snicker out loud, wondering how she’d react if I were to share that bit of information.

  “He from around here?”

  “I think so. I mean, he used to live in Asheville but he moved back recently. He says he has family in the area.”

  “Hmm. What’s this fella’s name?”

  “Bellamy. Myles Bellamy.”

  “Bellamy...” The wheels are spinning ninety to nothing as she concentrates, trying to think of anyone she may have known, come across, read about or heard of with that name. “Reckon he’s any kin to Parker Bellamy?”

  “I have no idea. Who’s Parker Bellamy?”

  “Used to own a furniture store downtown, if I remember right.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That was Parker Bellinger,” Dad tells her.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. His daughter was Lottie Bellinger.”

  “Oh. That’s right…you know, I just recently heard Lottie ran off with a Pizza Hut driver, the little hussy. A married Pizza Hut driver. Left his wife with two young ’uns to raise, from what I’m told. Can you beat that?”

  “Guess he delivered more than her pizza,” I snort.

  “Well, I hope she knows she didn’t win no prize there. Man that would run out on his wife and kids…why, ain’t nothin’ to him.”

  I have to agree. Although I don’t know who Lottie Bellinger is. Wonder how long it’ll be before she takes up with the China Wok delivery guy? Ha!

  “So what’s this Myles Bellamy do?”

  “Now that you mention it, I think he said he used to work at Pizza Hut.”

  My dad says nothing, but I see him grin at my reflection in the rearview mirror as Louise nearly busts her girdle. It’s one of my most favorite things about her – the fact that she doesn’t take herself too seriously. She’s always laughing. I think her sense of humor is one of the reasons my father fell in love with her. It’s a wonder to me that she can have such a positive outlook, considering how bad her first marriage was. Shane’s father was an alcoholic who ended up choosing booze over his family, so I know it had to be bad.

  My stepbrother and I may not have a lot in common, especially since he’s six years older than me, but we did always have that one thing. Not that we ever spoke of it much, but the bond was there. That I-know-how-you-feel-because-I’ve-walked-in-your-shoes connection. The only difference being that his dad ran out on him chasing a bottle, while my mom abandoned me for a Portuguese playboy named Renaldo.

  Hard to say which is worse. The end result was the same, so I guess the road they took to get there doesn’t matter so much.

  Still chuckling, Louise twists around to look at me in the back seat. “Rotten scamp,” she murmurs fondly. It’s been her favorite name for me ever since I was twelve. The first time I heard it was when she caught me in Shane’s bathroom, funneling atomic pink hair dye into his shampoo bottle.

  “Actually he’s a web designer,” I reveal, wondering if there’s a way to divert her attention to something else without seeming too obvious.

  “One of those computer gurus, hm?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Sure is a nice lookin’ young man.”

  “He seems to think so.”

  “Guess you think so too, or you wouldn’t have been gettin’ all smoochie-smoochie with him, would ya?”

  “What are you talking about? I kiss all the new neighbors.”

  “You didn’t shut this one up in the basement, did you?” my dad teases.

  Louise looks back and forth between us, confused but smiling at our laughter. “Shut who up in the basement? What am I missin’?”

  I lean forward, resting my cheek against the soft leather passenger seat. “Oh my gosh, I’d forgotten all about that! He was our neighbor for about a year, wasn’t he? Until his family moved across town. Daddy never told you about Walter Fitzsimmons?”

  “No, not that I recall.”

  “Well, it was a long time ago. I think I was only like, four or five
.”

  “Six,” Dad corrects me. “I remember because you were starting first grade that year and poor little Walter was in your class.”

  “Poor Walter – whatever.”

  “What happened?” Louise demands.

  “The Fitzsimmons had just moved in down the street…” my father begins, “…and we had them and a few other families over for a barbeque. Now, they had a little boy about Leah’s age, who for whatever reason made up his mind that was going to give her a kiss. And he was bound and determined, too. That little boy chased her all around the yard, and the more he chased after her, the madder she got.”

  “I didn’t want his disgusting boy cooties!” I explain. “And just for the record, that kid was gross. He always had a runny nose. I’m talking always. I don’t think that’s normal.”

  “Anyway,” Dad continues, “she’d finally had a bait of it, I guess. Because when dinner was ready, Walter was the only one missing when we called the kids to come eat. No one could find him anywhere. So here we all were, searching all over the place, his parents getting more and more frantic by the minute. And during all this, little Taz just sat there at the picnic table, innocent as a lamb, munching on her hamburger and swearing she didn’t know a thing in the world about it.”

  Hitching an eyebrow, Louise shoots him a discerning look. “Looks like you woulda known better than that. So how long did it take y’all to find him?”

  “Probably a good twenty minutes or so. We kept circling the yard, calling his name and looking everywhere we could think but he never would answer us. Didn’t find him until I went to have a look inside the house and noticed one end of Leah’s jump rope tied around the basement doorknob. She had the other end locked in the dishwasher so the door wouldn’t open. Poor kid couldn’t get out. Although I doubt he tried too hard.”

  “Land sakes. Why on earth wasn’t he tryin’ to get out?”

  “Same reason he wouldn’t answer us. He was afraid to make any noise! Tell her why, Leah.”