“Soooorry! I didn’t know you were so worried. I honestly didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“Well, it would help if you could just return my calls when you get them.”
“All right. Geez.”
She absolutely loathed herself. She hated sounding like the worried, needy girlfriend. What was she becoming? She let it go.
“So what have you been up to?” he asked.
“I went out with Ethan last night and then—”
“Oh yeah,” he sneered. “That caterer.”
“Yes. He is a caterer.” And he promptly returns all my phone calls and is interested in my life and my hobbies, she wanted to add.
“Humph. Anyway, go on.”
She sensed a jealous tone in his voice and remembered Leslie’s story about how she had made Russ jealous over a coworker. Perhaps she should take Leslie’s advice. Maybe she could use Ethan to her advantage. She could talk about how wonderful and fabulous he was, and what a great time they had together. But Ethan really was wonderful and fabulous, and she couldn’t use him to get back at Paul. Ethan meant more than that.
Instead, Cate began to tell him about her hungover morning with Timothy Sickle and Ariana Gomez. She was getting to the part about the tamales when she heard a steady liquid stream in the background. “Are you peeing?” she asked. Abruptly, it stopped.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it. Like I said, I was in that hot tub forever, and I had to take a piss.” She heard a flush. “I’m beat,” he said, seemingly uninterested in the rest of her story.
“So am I.”
“I can’t wait to come home,” he said.
“You’re coming back Friday?”
“Yes. My flight gets in around four, I think. Oh! I meant to ask you. Some of my friends are going to be in town from Los Angeles. I told them I’d meet them for drinks in the Gaslamp on Friday. Do you want to go?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I’ll see you on Friday then.”
“Okay.” Good-bye was on the tip of her lips when she remembered something. “Hey, I have a question for you.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think of the freckle right next to my left eye?”
“What freckle?”
“You know. The only one on my face that sort of stands out.”
“Where is it? On your cheek?”
“Never mind.”
“You know that everything about you is cute, Cate. I’m sure your freckle is cute, too.”
“Thanks,” she said but didn’t mean it.
18 • Bad Mix
Bailey Goldsmith had been Cate’s last appointment on Friday. She was a tiny thing with a vocabulary that seemed too large for her little body. Cate had liked her. She was inquisitive and interested in school. Her mother had also volunteered to be a helper in Cate’s classroom, which was always a bonus.
She had just stepped into the Volvo when the piercing sound of her cell phone filled the car. She was glad that it hadn’t rung inside the Goldsmiths’ home. That would’ve been unprofessional.
Paul.
She hadn’t been expecting him to call for at least another hour or perhaps even five minutes before they were scheduled to hang out. That would’ve been more like him.
“Did you just land?” she asked.
“I sure did, and you’re the first person I called.”
So, he was Prompt Sweet Paul today.
“Really?” She acted surprised.
“Yes. I’m in a cab right now. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Are we still going to the Gaslamp?”
“Yeah. We’re going downtown, so just dress like you’re going downtown.”
That meant dressed up. Going downtown meant that Cate would bust out a black cocktail dress and heels. Downtown meant a little more makeup. It wasn’t like Pacific Beach. People didn’t drip salsa and spill beer on their jeans in the Gaslamp. They drank ten-dollar martinis and valet-parked.
“What time are you coming over?” she asked.
“Be ready at eight.”
When she returned to her complex, there was a small package from Leslie Lyons waiting in her mailbox. Inside the box was the promised nail polish. It was a dark gray color called Slate. Cate pulled out a note.
Don’t forget! Two coats each! Russ and I are so honored to have you share this special day with us.
Love,
Les
Cate tossed the note and package onto her wicker chair.
When Paul arrived, she was still in her robe. She’d finished blow-drying her hair. She’d even borrowed Jill’s flatiron and had straightened the hell out of her bob for a slicker look. She had applied eyeliner and eye shadow, which she only wore if she were in a wedding or going downtown.
“You look sexy in that little robe,” he said as he kissed her neck. She looked down and noticed that his erection had formed a tent in his pants. Actually, it was more like a circus tent. He was huge. She was about to reach for it when he pulled away. “We’re actually in a hurry. I told them we’d be there by eight.” It was five to eight.
“Should I wear black pants and this burgundy halter top or this black cocktail dress?” She held up both outfits.
He pointed to the dress. “The dress. I love the dress.”
“Do you know which club we’re going to yet?”
“We’re actually going to Little Italy. I can’t remember the name of the place. I have to call them on the way.”
“Little Italy? Maybe I should go more casual.”
“No. You’re fine, and we’re just meeting there, anyway. I think we’ll end up at The Onyx Room or On Broadway.”
The Onyx Room and On Broadway were definitely meant for black cocktail dresses.
En route to Little Italy, his friends phoned with a meeting place.
She was excited to meet Paul’s friends from home, never having been exposed to that aspect of his life. She’d heard about his friends and family from Los Angeles but had not met them.
The Whaler’s Pub was an English pub in the middle of Little Italy. Its specialty was fish and chips and the beer from their own brewery. Several men were involved in a dart tournament when they entered.
Cate almost landed her black heel into a basket of fries that someone had left on the floor when they walked to a table in the corner.
“Paul!” someone roared.
Approximately ten people were seated around a table. They wore jeans. The guys all resembled other versions of Paul with their short hair and sharp shirts.
He shook hands with his guy friends from Los Angeles and kissed Meredith, the only girl, on the cheek. She was a tall blonde with a tiny nose and fair skin. She reminded Cate of Nicole Kidman. She had a tendency to turn her head to an angle when she spoke and she looked at Cate as if she were a cute two-year-old when Paul introduced them.
Even though Cate was confident that her outfit was the essence of vogue, she felt painfully uncomfortable in her dress and heels. She stood next to Paul, fidgeting with her purse, while they all said hello.
She was dying to hide in a booth.
She and Paul found seats at the end of the table. At first he spoke to his friends about their trip to San Diego, the weather in Los Angeles, and a bunch of other crap that no one really cared about.
Cate ordered a gin and tonic that had been hopelessly watered down and listened while Paul reminisced with his friends about home. His elbows rested on the table as he leaned closer to his friends. They spoke of people she didn’t know. Johnny Pierce was getting married. Mandy O’Neill was having a baby. Bryce Sommers was gay. Paul hung on every word. It was all irrelevant to Cate. She ordered another gin and tonic. If there was any alcohol, she couldn’t taste it.
She was thinking about complaining to the bartender when she noticed Paul had moved to the other side of the table. He was now seated next to Meredith, his back turned to Cate.
“So what are you doing now?” Cate heard him ask her.
“Pharmac
eutical sales.” She had a way of saying pharmaceutical sales that made it sound cute.
She couldn’t hear much of what they said because they were about five chairs away. She looked at the people across from her. They were laughing at a joke someone had just told. “So how long are you guys in town for?” she asked.
No one heard her. She leaned closer to the table and said it again, louder. They weren’t paying attention and continued to talk amongst themselves. She tried to appear preoccupied and searched through her purse for nothing in particular. She found a mint that had been in her bag since she’d gone to World Famous with Ethan. She wished she were with Ethan or her girlfriends instead of the jerks she was sitting across from. She undid the wrapper and popped it into her mouth. Ethan would never hang out with people like this or, if he did, he would never leave her out. He would be the perfect boyfriend, and she wished she felt the same kind of sparks she experienced when she looked at Paul.
What seemed like a decade passed, and she still didn’t feel a buzz from the cocktails. Again, she tried to make conversation with Paul’s friends.
“So how long are you all in town for?”
A silence fell over their little group. She felt as if she had a giant piece of spinach stuck in her tooth. “Just ’til Monday,” one answered.
“What do you all do?” She was really beginning to wonder if something was stuck between her teeth.
“We’re all in pharmaceutical sales,” another said. Then he turned to his friends. “Did I tell you that I ran into Mike Walters last week?”
“Really?” they all said with enthusiasm.
Without telling anyone, she left for the bathroom. She felt like announcing to all those who were staring that she had not planned on going to a pub and thought she was going dancing instead.
In the bathroom she shut herself into a stall and called Jill on her cell phone. Jill was having dinner with Beth and Ike in Old Town. Cate actually considered walking the ten plus miles to meet them.
“Where are you?” Jill asked.
“I’m having the worst night,” she whispered.
“What? I can’t hear you.”
She raised her voice but was careful not to speak too loud. “I’m having the worst night.”
“Are you with Paulo?”
“Yes. We’re at some pub in Little Italy with like ten of his friends. He told me we were going to the Gaslamp, so I’m dressed up and they’re all in jeans. His friends are kind of assholes, and I honestly wish I had just stayed in.”
“Hold on,” she said. Cate could hear the sound of an accordion and a Spanish singer in the background while she waited. She wished more than anything she was sipping on properly made cocktails with them. “We’re coming to get you,” Jill said.
She couldn’t just leave. That would be rude. But, hell, leaving your girlfriend alone at the end of the table when she doesn’t know a soul to go chat with some other girl is rude. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting outside.”
She turned off her phone before slipping it back into her purse. When she came out of the stall, Meredith was standing in front of the mirror, fluffing her hair. “There you are!” she said. “We’ve been wondering where you went.”
“Oh. My phone rang, and I thought it would be rude to talk at the table.” How long had Meredith been standing there for? Cate prayed she hadn’t heard the part about Paul’s friends being assholes.
“Paul was wondering where you were.” She put her arm around Cate. Her camel-colored boots looked good with her Levi’s. “C’mon. Let’s go back to the table.” She said it with zest.
Paul looked concerned when they returned to the table, and Cate wished that Meredith would remove her arm from her shoulders. “Hey! There you are,” he said. “I was starting to wonder where you went.” He pulled an empty chair in between him and Meredith. “Here. Why don’t you sit with us?”
She sat down. “Jill called,” she said quietly. “She’s coming to get me.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Well, they’re just right around the corner, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Besides, I think it will be good for you to catch up with your friends.”
“Why don’t you have Jill come in for a drink?”
Jill would be bored to tears after three minutes with this crew. Cate shook her head. “She’s just swinging by to grab me. I don’t think she’s planning on coming in.”
He seemed confused. “Well, let me walk you out then.”
“No really. It’s okay.” She didn’t feel like making a production and wanted to quietly slip away from the table. “I’ll just talk to you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
“Well, what are you doing tomorrow? Don’t forget that I leave again Sunday night. Let’s do something tomorrow.”
“I’m working at Beth’s store all day. Why don’t you call me on my cell phone? We’ll figure something out for tomorrow night.”
“All right.” The truth was, she didn’t really care if she saw him tomorrow. She was tired. She was sick of chasing after him and waiting for No Call Paul to be the Prompt Paul. She was sick of feeling like she had half a boyfriend instead of feeling like she was part of a couple. She was over it.
She quickly said good-bye. Thankfully, it wasn’t a production, and no one seemed to care that she was leaving.
The cold air outside sent prickles up her bare back and legs. She wrapped her arms around her chest as she waited and tried to keep from shivering.
She’d been having a nightmare that she lost the nail polish for Leslie’s wedding when the phone rang. Groggily, she answered on the third ring.
“Hola.”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Two-thirty.” She could tell he was on his cell phone by the subtle crunching in the background. “I’m standing outside your door. Come let me in.”
She sat up. “You’re outside?”
“Yeah, I want to talk to you. Please let me in.”
She hung up the phone and walked in the dark to her front door. He was still in his clothes from the Whaler’s Pub. The scent of cigarettes, cologne, and fresh air came in with him. He seemed nervous. “Why’d you leave?” he asked.
She flipped on a light as she walked toward the couch. “I was tired.”
“Is something wrong?”
She debated continuing with her tired excuse, going back to bed, and preventing the boat from rocking. After all, he did care. He was worried and had shown up in the middle of the night. “Yeah, Paul. There are things that are bothering me.” She felt her hands shaking, the boat tipping.
He sat down on the couch.
She stood across from him. Her arms were folded over her old T-shirt.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Tell me.”
She didn’t know where to begin. Did she start with his consistent failure to call? Or with the fact that they spent about four days a month with each other? Or how much he’d changed since the beginning? “I guess sometimes I just feel like we’re not in the same place.” She shook her head. “I don’t really think you want a serious girlfriend. And if you don’t, that’s fine. But I need to know.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“You honestly haven’t noticed the way things are between us?”
His hands shot to his sides, palms facing up. “No.”
“Paul, we’re not like other couples. Yeah, we say we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but there are all kinds of things. You don’t call when you say you’re going to. It seems like you don’t care if we don’t speak to each other. You’re not interested in my life. I don’t feel like I’m a part of your life. For a while I thought it was your job that was preventing us from becoming closer, but now I realize it’s more than—”
He interrupted her. “You know how busy I am. I don’t mean to blow you off.”
“I just need to feel like I’m part of your life. I need to feel like I can count on you. I need more.” She thought carefully about what she said next. “If you don’t want that, then maybe we should start seeing other people.”
The release felt intoxicating. For months she had been scared, holding everything in, tiptoeing around the fact that they were drifting from each other. Now she didn’t know why. It felt liberating to unload. She didn’t care if the boat tipped over and sank.
He walked toward her. His hands felt damp when they cupped her wrists. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
She felt herself shaking again. She couldn’t tell if he was saying good-bye or making amends. What exactly was he sorry for?
“I didn’t realize I was being that way,” he said. “I’ll make more of an effort. I want this to work. Do you?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I do. But there have to be changes. I want us to be closer. I can’t feel like I’m in the dark anymore. I can’t go on feeling like I am last on your list of priorities.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” He pulled her close and hugged her harder than he ever had.
All night, he held her in his arms.
Paul fell asleep quickly, his body securely cupped against hers. She could feel his ragged breath on the back of her neck, the prickly hair on his thighs rubbing against her shaved legs. She was restless and uncomfortable. The more pressure she put on herself to fall asleep, the more insomnia seized control. She debated getting up and watching television in the living room for a while.
Instead, she lay awake, wondering if Paul would really change. Uncertainty clouded her thoughts. She still considered the notion of seeing other people. She hadn’t planned on suggesting it, but now it didn’t seem like a bad idea. He couldn’t expect her to rely on him if he was going to be flaky and inconsiderate.
She didn’t fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning. Her alarm clock cut the silence only a few hours later. She pulled out of Paul’s vicelike embrace.
Always the Bridesmaid Page 18