So Screwed

by Melissa Marino

  His signature smile appeared. “I would’ve been disappointed if I didn’t get the chance to see you before you left.”

  “Is that so?” I asked.

  “It is so,” he said.

  Aaron cleared his throat, pulling my attention away from Abel. His eyes shifted between Abel and me for a brief moment. “Thank you again for coming, Evelyn. You’re a sweetheart to do so.”

  “It’s what friends do,” I said. “I have to run and get back to work, but I’m glad I could stop by.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Callie said, linking her arm through mine.

  “Thanks again, Evelyn,” Aaron said.

  “In my thoughts,” I replied. I turned to Abel. “Sorry again.”

  Callie and I started to walk away, but Abel’s hand on my arm stopped me. He stepped close, hovering over me. “How about a drink later?”

  “I…don’t think so,” I said.

  Callie remained quiet, but the tug on my opposite arm began to pull harder.

  “Please,” he begged, batting his dark eyelashes at me. “I’m in mourning. You wouldn’t want me to be all alone, would you?”

  Callie tugged on my arm. “Abel,” she said. “I love you, but sometimes you’re as civilized as a toddler on a sugar rush.”

  “I do have to go,” I said, allowing Callie to lead me away. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

  Callie’s arm was still linked through mine as we approached the door.

  “He’s oddly charming,” I whispered in Callie’s ear.

  She stopped in her tracks and spun around, placing her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed like she was looking for some hidden message behind my words.

  “Oh, shit,” she said. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Bang my boyfriend’s brother.”

  And like any best friend could, she read me like a book. It wasn’t entirely true, though.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I won’t.”

  “Good because I love you both. You’re like a sister to me and Abel is like a brother. You two hooking up would be weird. Anyway, the more pressing issue is do you want to meet me for a drink later?”

  I dug my phone out of the bottom of my purse and scrolled through my missed calls. Two from my boss, Bridget, which meant there would definitely be no drinks for me. There would be a drink for her, though. A green smoothie from the place across the street from the office, and she nicely requested for me to pick it up for her on the way back.

  “I can’t, sweetie. I have to get back to work, but how about brunch or something on Sunday?”

  “Absolutely. I miss you,” she pouted. “Your hair looks fantastic, by the way.”

  “I miss you, too. Now go be the supportive girlfriend, and then mend his broken heart in any way you can.”

  “And you…go get…to work,” she said with an eyebrow raise.

  She got me.

  * * *

  We were full-service wedding planners at By Invitation Only. Bridget and I did everything from venue choices to invitations. Our job was to make a wedding as stress-free for the bride and groom as possible. Also, depending on price point, there could be as little and as much interaction as the couple wanted.

  I was lucky to be getting my start in the business with Bridget Harrison. She was the wedding planner of Chicago. Celebrities, athletes, political officials…they all wanted her and they paid very good money for her services. With her meticulous organizational skills, calm exterior, and stellar connections, no one could pull off a wedding like she could. In less than a decade, she not only rose to the top of the wedding field, but also opened two other locations, staffed with planners she trained to provide the same grand care she did. I had approached her when I was in my final year of college and asked if she would consider me for an internship. She had told me she usually didn’t take on interns, but she had been impressed enough with the small children’s party-planning business I had started, along with the social media campaign for our university’s chapter of the American Marketing Association, which I was president of, that led to a 25 percent increase in membership. Once I graduated, she offered me a full-time job in the career of my dreams.

  Not only was she my top pick to work with, but we also hit it off from the moment we met. We joked and talked like girlfriends. But when it was time to get down to work, we were all business. We both knew our places: her the boss and me the employee. The dynamic worked out perfectly.

  She was about refined perfection. Dressed always in designer labels, she was the epitome of professional. She began her career much like I had: interning while still in college, which led to an offered position. Then after a few years, she opened up By Invitation Only. Now, ten years later, she was at the top. My goal was to be her friendly competition someday. I was sure she knew this. How could she not? If I was where she was at thirty-six, I’d be thrilled.

  I balanced her smoothie, a large coffee for myself, my phone, and a box of programs as I hip checked the door to By Invitation Only open.

  “Anything new?” I shouted. “Green junk is here, by the way.”

  I unloaded everything onto my desk as she breezed out of her office. With her hair piled tightly on top of her head and her white silk blouse, she looked every bit as polished as the crystal chandelier that hung above us.

  “What the hell happened to you?” she asked. “You look chewed up and spit out by a garbage truck and then dragged for seven miles.”

  Yes. I wanted to be just like her except for her approach, which at times was about as soft as a scouring pad.

  “It’s raining and I was sans umbrella,” I said.

  She dropped a folder onto my desk in front of me. “Here are the proofs from the Hamilton-Norris engagement shoot.”

  “Why proofs?”

  She tapped the plastic top of her smoothie with her red manicured fingertip. “Is this kale or spinach?”

  “Half kale. Half spinach. You’re always changing your mind on which you want, so I’ve been getting you half and half for a while,” I said. “The proofs?”

  “Oh yeah. Courtney Norris wanted to see actual photos because she wasn’t sure the proofs online were”—she paused before making air quotes with her fingers—“Save the Date quality.”

  I sipped my coffee as I rolled my eyes. “They were gorgeous, but of course she would’ve found something wrong with them.”

  “Bridezilla?”

  “Kind of, but also seems more worried about planning a wedding than knowing her fiancé. She had to call to ask him what his middle name was.”

  “Aw,” she said, carefully inserting a straw into her smoothie. “Is your jaded heart bleeding all over my white carpet again?”

  “Hi Pot. I’m Kettle.”

  “Oh, you know that’s what I adore most about you. The one thing I’ve never had to teach you. You came to me perfectly bitter.”

  “Bitter is a strong word.”

  “What would you call it?”

  My phone buzzed with a text message.

  “Honest,” I replied to Bridget.

  Chapter Two

  ABEL—

  So, I saw you giving Callie’s friend some serious eye fucking earlier,” Marshall said.

  I was enjoying a quiet moment in the living room, my head leaning back against the sofa, as the remaining guests filtered out, but peace was short-lived when Marshall found me.

  “I wasn’t eye fucking her,” I said, turning my head to see him enter the room. “She was just…”

  He plopped himself down next to me. “Hot?” he asked.

  Yeah. Hot. Really, really hot. No matter how many times I saw her it still surprised me just how much.

  “Obviously,” I said. “But she’s…I don’t know.”

  “Did you sleep with her yet?” he asked.

  I shot him a look. While we routinely dished the dirt at the bar we worked at together, we were still at Nana’s funeral. I might have been checking out Evelyn, but I was not cr
ude.

  “Wow,” he said, extending his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. “Either you have and she gave you the brush-off after. Or that look means you’re feeling the feels of a different kind.”

  “I realize this is the pot calling the kettle black, but can you try and not be a shithead while still at my grandmother’s funeral?” I asked. “Jesus, Ponyboy.”

  He earned that nickname years ago and it still fit.

  This guy, who was at least seven years older than me, looked like he belonged on the cover of some badass men’s magazine. Strategically coiffed hair, blue eyes, and teeth so white they’d blind you, Marshall had the mouth of a sailor with the looks of a bearded pretty boy except for one thing. Any area of his body that wasn’t hidden behind clothes was covered in tattoos. He was Aaron’s best friend, and now, one of mine, too. He didn’t take any bullshit. Ever. It was a good thing, too, because whenever I found myself in a pickle, Marshall was always there to lend a hand or remind me how bad I fucked up. Usually it was both. It was no wonder he and Aaron were tight. They were so much alike.

  “I was trying to lighten the mood,” he said. “Plus, Aaron agreed with me.”

  Aaron walked in. “Aaron agreed with what?”

  “That Abel was ogling Callie’s friend,” Marshall said.

  Aaron stood in front of us, shaking his head. “I didn’t say ogle. All I said was it looked like something was going on between Abel and Evelyn.”

  “Christ,” I said, pushing myself up from the couch. “You two fuckers gossip more than chicks. You sure got the whole bestie thing down.”

  The two of them looked at each other and started laughing at me, full-on fist pumping occurring. This was what they did, ever since I was a middle schooler and they became the dynamic duo in college. I was the little brother. Always.

  Marshall let out one last sharp chuckle. “Oh, relax. You two want to go get a drink?”

  “We have a sitter on the way for Delilah, so Callie and I are going to go grab some dinner. Why don’t you guys come with us?”

  “I don’t have time for dinner, buddy,” Marshall said. “In fact, I should be checking in at WET.”

  WET was the bar that both Marshall and I worked at—Marshall as the manager and me as a bartender. WET, a speakeasy lounge, was the brainchild of Aaron and considered one of Chicago’s most exclusive bars.

  He stood and gave us both a hug before taking off. I wasn’t going to wait long to follow his lead. It had been a long day, and with the night off work, I was anxious for some time away from it all.

  Hoping for a quick getaway, I waited until I was already at the front door before shouting to Aaron, “Heading out. Love you all.”

  My hand was on the doorknob but Callie’s voice stopped me from moving forward.

  “Don’t you dare leave without saying good-bye,” she shouted back before emerging at the end of the hallway.

  “I was saying good-bye,” I mumbled.

  She rushed down the hallway, calling out to Aaron over her shoulder, “Aaron! Abel’s leaving. Isn’t he coming with us?”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” Aaron yelled.

  I sighed as I watched him turn the corner, following Callie’s path toward me.

  “And watch you two make goo-goo eyes at each other for an hour? I’ll pass,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we can contain ourselves. Besides, it’s been a long day. We’ll share some Chianti and have some bucatini at RPM.”

  “Nah. A stuffy restaurant isn’t what I had in mind. Besides, I got some stuff I need to do.”

  “Like what?” Callie said, coming up next to me with Aaron joining her.

  Her hand slipped into his just as his body immediately relaxed into hers. Everything about them was familiar. They knew each other’s looks, their bodies, their touch…it was kind of intense. It was also kind of amazing.

  “Just…stuff,” I said.

  I was intentionally vague because like with playing cards, I knew when to bluff.

  Aaron rolled his eyes again while rubbing Callie’s back. “He thinks we’ll be making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

  Callie gasped. “We do not make goo-goo eyes at each other. I, for one, just enjoy looking at my hot man.”

  “I mean,” Aaron said, stepping back and looking at Callie up and down. “How can I not keep my eyes on this one? If you knew what she was wearing, or lack thereof this morning—”

  She playfully slapped his chest. “Some things are private.”

  He bent down, kissing the side of her cheek. “Like when—”

  “Okay. I had enough,” I said, walking away. “You two make me sick.”

  “You both make me sick,” Callie huffed. “Both of you can’t keep your wieners in check for one night.”

  I snorted as I stepped aside, Callie and Aaron following behind me, bickering in their lovey-dovey, bullshit way as I headed toward the door. And they wondered why I didn’t want to go to dinner with them.

  “I can keep my wiener in check,” Aaron mumbled. “I was trying to add some humor into a depressing situation. I’m not completely uncivilized, sweetie.”

  “Oh, please. You grabbed my ass at least three times tonight and—”

  Aaron faked shock; it was the same look he gave his daughter, Delilah, when he had to give her a parental talking-to. “You had something on your skirt. Your very tight skirt, Calliope.”

  “And,” she continued and pointed to me. “This one was salivating all over Evelyn. I did all I could to not have him start humping her in front of the buffet table.”

  “I wasn’t humping! Or trying,” I said. “I just asked her to go get a drink.”

  “So, this has happened before?” Callie asked.

  “Abel asked me once if he could ask her out, and I told him no,” Aaron said. “That and the fact that at Delilah’s birthday party last year there was some serious looks going on between the two of them, which I noticed was happening again today.”

  “I’m free to date whoever I want,” I said.

  “But you don’t date anyone Abel. You screw around with whoever gives you the most attention. I don’t want my best friend to be one of them,” Callie said.

  “Well, unless,” Aaron said.

  “What?” Callie said at the same time as I said, “Yes?”

  “It’s not like Evelyn dates, either, really,” Aaron said. “She’s very career focused, and she just…you know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” I said.

  “Aaron,” Callie warned, pulling her hand away from him and folding her arms across her chest. “I’m going to have to ask you to stop wherever this is going before both you and your brother are single.”

  He matched her stance, his breath increasing. “What?” he snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with two people having casual sex. In fact, I think that was our intention at first, right?”

  “No. We were boss-employee with benefits, and it almost wrecked us. Why would you tell him to do that?”

  “I didn’t tell him to do anything. It was only an idea.”

  “One second you tell him hands off. The next, to go have a fling. It’s not like he needs any help making bad decisions.”

  “He’s not an imbecile. I’m going into business with him, aren’t I?”

  Yes, he was. My super-successful brother was giving me another handout.

  Kind of.

  My dream was always to be a teacher, an English teacher. My love for reading and writing was always intense. Books were read as soon as I could get my hands on them, and notebooks were filled with stories of various genres. Graduating from college, I thought Chicago would be in such need for a teacher like me. This wasn’t the case.

  Now, two years later, I was still bartending at one of Aaron’s bars, just like I did when I was still in college. Several months ago he offered me an opportunity for something new: open a new bar with him on the central coast of California. I was going to be part owner with Aa
ron obviously fronting the initial investment. At the risk of sounding like an ungrateful prick, I was very “meh” about the whole thing. Not only would it be a huge commitment, but more so, it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. At the top tier of concerns? It was Aaron once again helping his little brother out. While the agreement was I would buy my way in a little at a time, at the going rate I was making as a bartender, I’d be caught up in a decade or so.

  The bickering continued, but I’d had enough. So much of my life was other people and things making decisions for me.

  “Can I go now?” I sighed.

  Their standoff posture softened, and with one little grin, they were back to holding hands. Is that what love was? True love? I had touches of it over the course of my twenty-four years, but nothing like that.

  “Do you have work to do?” Aaron asked.

  He wasn’t asking about me pouring drinks, but about the online teaching gig he thought I was doing. It was where he believed the money was coming from for my share of the California bar.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  Poker I wasn’t always good at. Bluffing I was.

  * * *

  Clouds of smoke rose above the green felt-covered table as I and the eight other men and women sharing it with me stared intently at one another looking for tells. After things wrapped up at Aaron and Callie’s, I was anxious and didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. It had been an emotionally draining day, not just with losing Nana, but with my screwup over the location of the post-funeral luncheon. How was I supposed to know that my buddy’s restaurant would be closed by the health department the day before? And then my dad’s near-death experience. Per usual, Aaron was there to save the day and I was just around to watch it all.

  Then there was the girl.

  Evelyn.

  Even her name sounded as beautiful as she was. The fact that thought even crossed my mind, in those exact words, was proof enough there was something different about her.

  I thought her name sounded as beautiful as her. I didn’t do that.

  But there was more.

  A lot more.

  It was her sexy-as-hell, curves-for-days body. It was an adorable smile, and even soaked from the rain, her blond hair was beautiful. It was her voice, sweet with a slight raspy undertone. It was her confidence; the pointed way she spoke during every conversation. It was her eyes and her lips and just the whole entire package.