Going Wild

by Gretchen Galway

  He’d set up cable or a satellite dish and pay a year in advance. They’d wire the whole house.

  Smiling, he backed up his work in three places, put away his laptop, and stood up to stretch his stiff muscles. His stomach growled, reminding him for the millionth time of the futility of relying on peanuts and chocolate for dinner.

  It was still early enough to go out. One thing he craved almost as much as a mattress when he was backpacking was Chinese food. The good kind in Oakland or Berkeley or San Francisco, the kind you just couldn’t get in an hour’s drive from most trailheads.

  On impulse, he knocked on the wall outside the kitchen.

  “Jane?”

  She was obviously awake. He’d offer to bring her something. Just out of courtesy, a thank-you for taking him.

  She stepped into the hallway from the far end looking not like a woman in for the night, in her pajamas, but as if she were going to a tax audit—sharp-looking khakis and a tight black sweater that he appreciated as discreetly as he could. Her cat peeked out from behind her legs, its gold eyes gleaming in the hall light.

  “Yes?” she asked. “Is everything all right?”

  She was even wearing shoes.

  To hell with it. He was in too good a mood to stick to protocol. “I’m going out for Chinese. Want to come? My treat.”

  Her eyes dropped to his midsection. Then lower. He wore cutoff sweatpants and a T-shirt that had fit him better when he was in high school. “Don’t worry. There’s no dress code,” he said.

  “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Me neither. Hungry?”

  “I am, actually,” she said.

  “Mind being seen with a slob?”

  She smiled. “No.”

  “Then you should come. This place has the best Mongolian beef I’ve ever tasted.”

  After a slight pause, she nodded. “Sounds fantastic. I’m game. Thanks for asking.”

  Perhaps Jane did mind a little bit that her companion looked exactly like who he was: a man who frequently slept outside without access to running water. But the restaurant he drove them to in Oakland’s Chinatown looked almost as rough from the outside as he did, framed with graffiti and wedged between an adult bookstore and a discount carpet emporium with rusty metal bars over the plate glass windows.

  Emporiums aren’t what they used to be, she thought, climbing out of the SUV and following Grant to the restaurant door.

  As he was opening it for her, she was struck by an enormous yawn. Normally, she’d be in bed by now so she could get up at five and hit the gym before work, but the first night with a new tenant in the house—and no dividing door—had made her just uncomfortable enough to delay her transition to pajamas. Add a bad night’s sleep the night before, and she was starting to fade.

  “You’re tired?” he asked.

  “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

  The thick, spicy aroma of Szechuan struck her in the face. The place was much nicer inside than out, with bamboo tables and brick-red walls dotted with modern paintings. You’d never know it was so close to an emporium.

  Nevertheless, she yawned again, this time long enough to make her jaw crack.

  Grant picked up a menu by the door and handed it to her. “We’ll get it to go.”

  She couldn’t hide her relief. “Are you sure? I’ll be fine once we sit down.”

  “That’s not what happens to me when I’m that tired. Getting off my feet only makes me sleepier.”

  He was right, but she’d agreed to come and didn’t want to be rude. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “I usually get it to go. Then I can order like a pig, and they’ll think I’m providing for my large family at home.” He flashed a grin.

  Nice guy. She accepted the menu, picked out the spicy eggplant—as if oil-soaked vegetables would negate the cream cheese—and in a remarkably short amount of time, they were returning to the car, their arms heavy with takeout containers in two reusable bags Grant had brought with him. She shouldn’t have been surprised he would be environmentally minded, but she was. Messy people didn’t usually plan ahead in her experience.

  Her stomach was looking forward to a cream-cheese-free dish, but she couldn’t stop yawning. Three hours of sleep used to last longer. Another reminder of her advancing years. Thirty was just the beginning of the Big Slide into Death.

  She sighed. She often got morbid when she was tired.

  When they were halfway home on Park Boulevard, her cell phone rang. A reluctant glance—it wasn’t common, but corporate accounting emergencies did occur occasionally—told her it was only her sister Billie.

  “Are you all right?” Jane asked without preamble. Billie was usually the texting type.

  “Oh Jane! I have huge news!”

  Jane assumed she knew what that news would be. Or at least that it would involve Ian Cooper, Jane’s own former high school boyfriend and now future brother-in-law. He and Billie had announced their engagement a month ago.

  “You’ve picked a spot for the wedding,” Jane said.

  Billie laughed. “No, that would be much too practical. We keep putting it off.”

  If Jane were engaged, she’d love to look at wedding destinations. She’d love all of it—the dress, the flowers, the food, the music. “Would you like me to find you guys a place?”

  There was silence over the phone. No matter how often Jane said it, people didn’t believe she was cool with her childhood ex getting hitched to her sister. But she and Ian had only been kids when they’d dated, and she was a different person now. Much smarter, for instance.

  “No, Ian hired a planner. She’s going to do all the work for us. But thanks.”

  Ian was a fabulously wealthy investment fund manager. He could afford to hire an army of planners to put on the party of the century. “So what’s your news?” Jane asked.

  “Don’t you want to guess?”

  “I already guessed.”

  “Guess again,” Billie said.

  Little sisters could be annoying, but because Jane loved her so much, she played along. “You found a house.” Billie and Ian were shopping for a place up in the hills, not far from Jane. Neither one of them wanted to commute from the suburbs or exurbs—life on the freeway didn’t appeal to either of them, and they had jobs and school in the East Bay.

  “No!” Billie exclaimed with glee. “Excellent guess. Yet another thing that would’ve been much, much more practical than reality.”

  “Then what? And please don’t make me guess again. I’m exhausted.”

  “I know it’s late for you. Actually, I thought you might be in bed. But you sound like you’re in the car.”

  “I’m in the car.” Jane glanced at Grant, who was pretending not to listen. She wouldn’t tell her sister who she was with or what she was doing. Billie might think there was something intriguing about her getting takeout with her tenant, a man whose last name was the same as the company where she worked. It had been three months since Jane had broken up with her last boyfriend, and her sister seemed to think it was time she dated again. But Jane was finally, happily single and refused to screw it up.

  “I should call you back,” Billie said. “I don’t want to cause an accident.”

  Jane would’ve been alarmed if her sister didn’t sound so happy. “I’ll pull over. There. I’ve pulled over. What is it?”

  “You don’t sound like you pulled over.”

  “It’s really windy,” Jane said.

  “It is windy. Do you think we’ll have another El Niño year?”

  “Billie…”

  “OK, OK. I guess I’m nervous. You can be scary—”

  “Stop saying that or I’ll kill you.”

  “See? That’s—ouch!” Billie’s voice moved away from the phone. “Why’d you do that?”

  Jane heard a man’s voice, low and calm. Ian was with her.

  “He’s probably telling you to hurr
y it up,” Jane said.

  “He is. I’ll let him— No, he won’t take the phone. OK, here goes.” Billie paused. “I’m pregnant!”

  7

  Jane’s breathing stopped. Her mind blanked. But while the rest of her organs locked up, her heart took off galloping like a spooked racehorse.

  “Jane?” Billie asked.

  She still couldn’t breathe. Billie? A mother?

  It was all wrong. It was too soon. It wasn’t what she’d planned.

  “You don’t even have a wedding date yet,” Jane finally managed to say.

  “Good thing, because we’d have to move it up. Or out. Think of the cute little outfit we could put the baby in. I could carry it like a bouquet.”

  “A baby isn’t an ‘it.’ It’s—I mean, he or she is a he or she.”

  “It’s so funny that’s your objection,” Billie said, “and not that we totally have to get married before it’s born. And I’m calling it an it because I don’t want to be narrow-minded and pigeonhole the poor thing before it’s even breathing.”

  Speaking of breathing, Jane was still struggling with it. She was going to be an aunt? Her mother was going to be a grandmother? Her father a grandfather?

  It shouldn’t have shocked her. Although younger than Jane, Billie was in her late twenties, engaged, and she’d always been great with kids, volunteering with a community homework club at the library after work, attending all their half-siblings’ birthday parties and graduations…

  “Are you still there?” Billie asked. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you in person. I was going to, but I couldn’t wait. I’m so sorry.”

  Jane cleared her throat. “No, it was just a backup on the freeway. I’m fine.”

  “I thought you’d pulled over.”

  “Wow, Billie.” Jane’s voice cracked. “Congratulations. How do you feel? Are you OK? Any nausea, fatigue—”

  “No, nothing. I’m fine, totally fine. Great.”

  Jane relaxed. She could never stand the idea of Billie in pain. “When is— How far— Do you have a date yet?”

  “Not yet. I just found out tonight. Haven’t even been to the doctor yet.”

  “But you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. I never miss a period. I bought two kits, and then Ian went out and got four more. All positive.” Billie let out a squeal. “I can’t believe it!”

  Imagining serious, thoughtful Ian running out to the store and buying an armful of pregnancy tests made Jane smile. He must be very proud of himself.

  But then Jane frowned. Had he rushed Billie into this? “What about school? What about your career? The house-hunting, the wedding—”

  Billie laughed. “Yeah, it’s crazy. I messed everything up again. I never seem to be able to do what I’m supposed to do, do I?”

  “Takes two to tango,” Jane said.

  “And a broken condom and antibiotics,” Billie said. “So more like four. Takes four to tango.”

  Jane was cool with Ian and Billie being in love with each other, but she didn’t appreciate being forced to imagine the gory details. “Have you told Mom? Dad?” Their parents had each remarried and had more children. There were lots of people who were going to be excited about a new generation.

  “Not yet,” Billie said. “You’re the first.”

  That touched Jane so much that tears formed in her eyes. Blinking them away, she swallowed hard and said, “You might want to wait a few weeks, make sure…”

  “I know, that’s what Ian said. But I don’t know if I can. The longest I think I can last is a week. Maybe two.”

  “Good luck with that.” Jane tried not to laugh. Billie tended to act on impulse. “Good luck with everything. Thank you. For telling me. And tell Ian…” She trailed off.

  “He knows. I know. You love us both and can’t wait to meet it.”

  “It’s not an ‘it,’” Jane said.

  Billie laughed. “You said it too. Well, I should go. I’m going to eat for three in case it’s twins. Starting right now. I thought pregnant people got nauseous, but I’m as hungry as ever. Bye!”

  “Bye.” Jane lowered the phone to her lap and stared at it. Her world was rocking. There had been so much upheaval this year. Her ex cheating on her, her grandmother dying, Billie and Ian getting engaged, taking on a mortgage for her own house—it was so much.

  “Are you all right?” Grant asked.

  “My sister’s pregnant.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? It’s wonderful to bring life into the world, isn’t it?”

  Grant signaled and turned onto a side street. “I don’t know. Is it?”

  “Of course it is. Billie will be a great mother.”

  “All right.”

  “What do you mean? Don’t you believe me?”

  “Look, it’s none of my business.”

  “That’s right, it isn’t,” she said.

  The lights of oncoming traffic lit up his smile. “Help me navigate? I forgot to turn on the GPS. I’m useless without it.”

  Regretting her rudeness, she forced herself to sound more cheerful as she instructed him through the twists and turns to the house.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said as he pulled up to the curb. “You can park in the driveway. There’s room for two cars.”

  “This is fine,” he said. “I don’t want to block the garage.”

  “There’s nothing in there. It’s totally empty.” She’d thought about renting it out too, but there wasn’t a parking shortage up here, so far from apartment buildings, jobs, restaurants, retail, and freeways. “You can park inside it if you’d like.” She was trying to make up for taking out her bad mood on him.

  But why should she be in a bad mood? She was going to be an aunt. Billie would be a fantastic mother. Everyone would be ecstatic for her and Ian.

  Even more ecstatic than they were already.

  Was she jealous?

  “I don’t need to park it inside.” Grant opened the car door. “It’s used to being abused by the elements.”

  “Just like you, right?” She would be cheerful if it killed her. She climbed out onto the sidewalk.

  “Exactly.”

  As they walked up to the house, Grant held out one of the bags. “Thanks for your company. I hope you like the food.”

  “I’m sure I—”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. Something about his posture, hard and alert, made her freeze in alarm.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Somebody’s there,” he said, squinting into the shadows. The bulb over her front door had gone out, and the new one she’d bought hadn’t fit inside the fixture, so it was dark.

  Great. One poor retail decision was going to lead to their brutal deaths.

  Again the death. She really needed to get more sleep.

  “Jane?” The violent killer’s voice drifted down the steps through the darkness. And his voice was familiar.

  “Kill me now,” Jane muttered. But there would be no such release with this visitor.

  “I’d rather not,” Grant replied, just as softly. “Although prison might be a good place to write a book.”

  “Jane, is that you?” the man asked again.

  “What are you doing here, Andrew?” Then to Grant, she added, “My ex. Very, very ex.”

  Andrew crept down the steps as stealthily as if he were actually trying to do her harm.

  A few months ago, he’d harmed her plenty by sleeping with their dentist. Not surprisingly, Jane had found somebody else to clean her teeth. She didn’t know if Andrew had. He probably found it weird to have his girlfriend drilling into an orifice. Now he’d know what it felt like to sleep with him.

  “Hello,” Andrew said, holding out a hand to Grant. “I’m Andrew Puckett.”

  Grant paused before taking it. “Grant.”

  Jane was grateful Grant had left off his last name, which Andrew would’ve instantly linked to the firm where she worked. The last thing she wanted was h
er ex thinking she was having some kind of relationship that involved her career. He’d once admitted to the nasty, ignorant belief that women could get ahead in business more easily than men because they could sleep their way to the top. It had been the worst thing he’d ever said out loud, not long before he’d cheated on her, and it was one reason she was so quick to move on and never look back.

  “Are you two dating?” Andrew asked in that cold, unemotional tone of his that she’d first mistaken for intelligence before realizing it was because his heart was a charcoal briquette.

  Although she wanted to tell him to fuck off, she didn’t want Grant to get drawn into anything awkward. “He’s renting a room,” she said. “Go on in, Grant. You don’t have to wait outside with me.”

  “Why would he?” Andrew stepped aside, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Her taste in men had always been flawed. She knew this. When a person focused on school and work at the expense of social relationships of any kind, that person made mistakes. Andrew, as only her third boyfriend ever, was a rookie’s mistake. The problem was that the mistake had turned her off dating altogether for the indefinite future. Developing better skills in the romance area just wasn’t worth the risk.

  “You know me,” Grant said. “I prefer the outdoors.” He stayed at her side.

  Nice of him. “I’m waiting to hear why you’re here,” Jane told Andrew.

  “It really would be better if we could talk alone,” Andrew said.

  “Then you should’ve used the phone,” Jane said.

  “You changed your number.”

  So she had. “And why do you think that might be, genius?”

  “I sense you’re still angry.”

  “I sense you’re still a sociopath.”

  Andrew shot an annoyed glance at Grant before moving closer to her. “I’ve been talking to somebody.”

  “Welcome to the human race. Most people don’t have to make an announcement about basic social contact.”

  “I mean a professional,” Andrew said tightly. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

  “And?”

  He blinked. “And I can share it with you.”