Breaking the Rules

by Cat Lavoie

  Adam agreed to let Chaser’s band use the pub on one condition: I had to be there too. Even though I told him I was tired and still a bit hungover, he insisted I needed to get out of the apartment. Izzie was ecstatic and rushed to call Chaser to give him the good news and tell him to go put up signs with the Quid’s address outside the old venue. It was strange seeing my sister so enthusiastic about something besides affidavits and cross-examinations. Steffi was excited to have a night out too and spent an eternity choosing her clothes for the evening even though, at this point, she’s only able to squeeze into a few outfits.

  The Quid is packed with people when we finally get there. Adam spots us from the bar and comes our way.

  “Thank you so much, Adam,” Izzie says, wrapping him in her arms. He pats her on the back and gives me a quizzical look. I shrug my shoulders and kiss him on the cheek, my sister still holding on to him.

  “I’ve reserved a table in the front,” he says, gently pushing Izzie in the direction of the stage. “You’ll have a great view.”

  “You girls so ahead,” I tell Izzie and Steffi. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

  “So how are you holding up?” Adam asks as the shuffle off.

  I shake my head. “How did I get myself into this?”

  “Beer. Lots and lots of beer. And at one point you asked for vodka and cranberry juice for some reason. I told you it wasn’t a good idea but you started pounding on the table and wouldn’t stop until I brought you one. I really think that’s what got you in the end. Even Dan the Drunk knows not to mix his liquor.”

  I cringe, remembering the tart pink drink that burned my throat.

  “Listen, Rox,” Adam says, sounding serious. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “What is it?” I ask, worried. He’s using the kind of voice people reserve for telling you about being sick or deported or in love with someone else.

  “I’ve been meaning to give you these for a while and I think now is the perfect time.” He reaches behind the bar and comes out with a handful of brochures.

  “Brochures?” I ask.

  “For cooking schools in the city. I really think you should look them over. One of them even has a semester in Paris.”

  I’ve seen these brochures before. Ollie gave them to me last year with the same look in his eyes. It’s not as if I’ve never thought about going to culinary school. But it’s not something I can afford. I can barely pay my bills as it is right now. There’s no way I can quit my job and go to school. And I already have enough debt without adding student loans to the mix. But I don’t want to disappoint Adam, so I try to smile and look interested.

  “Thanks,” I say, stuffing them in my bag. “I’ll take a look at them later.”

  We turn our attention to the stage when the lights dim. “See you later,” I say, and head for my sisters’ table. Izzie is a ball of nerves and runs backstage to check up on Chaser.

  “He’s nervous. He lost his lucky guitar pick but he’s found it now. It was in his lucky sock,” she tells us and we nod. I can barely hold in my laughter and Steffi is about to explode. I’m actually looking forward to seeing and hearing the guy who’s making my older sister act like a schoolgirl with a crush.

  When Chaser finally comes onstage with his band, I have to pinch myself to stop from laughing. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’d just turned twelve. But I forget about that when he starts playing. His fingers travel up and down on the guitar like he knows every inch of it by heart. Izzie beams up at Chaser and he smiles back, making his guitar wail. Steffi and I sip our Diet Cokes and listen.

  After an hour, the band leaves the stage to the sound of roaring applause and the bar empties slowly. Steffi and I help Adam clean up since one of the new waitresses he just hired left with the band’s roadie in the middle of the gig. Still, he’s in the best of moods. “Do you think they’d agree to play every week?” he asks, mopping up spilled beer off the floor. The smell makes me gag.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess you could ask. Here comes Izzie.” I spot my sister walking towards us, Chaser’s arm wrapped around her waist.

  “Chase. This is Roxy and Steffi, my sisters.”

  “Whoa, you look like you could be Izzie’s daughters, not her sisters,” he says, shaking our hands. I see the smile fade from Izzie’s face.

  I look down at my shoes and Steffi looks at her watch. “Look at the time,” she says. “We should head home.”

  “Wait, one of our buddies is in town and he’s staying at this wicked fancy hotel. We’re all going there to get wasted and trash his room and shit. Wanna tag along?” He stares at Steffi. “One of the guys in the band is really into pregnant chicks.” He looks at me. “And I’m sure one of them is into chicks that are just big.”

  I stare at Izzie, and by the look on her face I can tell that she’s back to being regular old Izzie. Chaser’s Izzie is gone now, hopefully for good. She unwraps Chaser’s arm from around her waist. “I think my sisters and I are going to go back home,” she says.

  “Aw, c’mon babe. It’s going to be killer. If the cops show up, you can talk to them and shit. You’re like my lucky charm.”

  “I’m going home, Chase. I don’t think you should call me anymore.”

  “For reals?” he asks, cocking his head.

  Izzie sighs. “Yes. For reals.”

  My eyes dart from Chaser to Izzie to Adam, whose dream of a weekly Eye Eight Chelsea gig is being crushed into pieces.

  Chaser nods and walks away, looking like a little kid who’s just lost his puppy. Or a criminal who’s just lost his lawyer.

  I kiss Adam on the cheek, thank him for the brochures and leave with my sisters.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Izzie.

  She thinks about it for a few seconds and then smiles, linking arms with Steffi and me. “Yup. Let’s go home. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Greta is leaning on Tali’s desk and she’s the first person I see when the elevator doors open on the Kilborn office. I was hoping to have at least a minute or two to gather my thoughts before she pounced on me. Reading the look on her face is close to impossible. Anger? Disappointment? Both?

  “Roxy. Office. Now.”

  I put my bag down on my desk and follow her inside her office, praying that this isn’t the day I get fired.

  “About Lucas Williams,” she says, getting to the point. “We need to talk.”

  This is it. I bet she’s already prepared the cardboard box for me to put all my stuff in. Maybe there’s a security guard waiting outside in case I decide to make a scene. And I’m probably not going to get the cupcake send-off we give everyone who leaves the office since I’m the one who makes the cupcakes.

  I avoid Greta’s gaze. “I can explain,” I say. But can I? Lucas Williams has surely bad-mouthed the firm to everyone he knows and it’s all my fault. I’m doomed.

  “Congratulations.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, before realizing what she’s just told me. “What?”

  “Not only does Lucas Williams want us to handle his PR, he wants you to be involved in the planning of his Grand Opening. I don’t know what you told him but he was impressed. He felt as though you were really in touch with his vision.”

  I was in touch all right.

  It takes a while for Greta’s words to sink in. And she’s actually smiling. Greta never smiles. “Ummmm... what do I have to do?” I ask, since I doubt Greta would be impressed by my current tactic of fondling and sticking my tongue down clients’ throats.

  “Well, I still need you to be my assistant. That’s not going to change. But I was thinking you could meet with the event planners and brainstorm with them. And I want you to be part of the ad campaign too. This is such an important account that you helped land, and I want you to organize an office party to celebrate. Maybe we could have it a few days before the official launch of Lucas’ restaurant. I want you to be part of this proj
ect, Roxy. So does Lucas.”

  “Wow,” I say, sitting down. Lucas Williams might be a pretentious ass, but he’s an actual chef and he wants me to be involved in the opening of his restaurant. My head is spinning even though I’m fairly confident that all traces of alcohol have left my system. I expect Greta to stop in her tracks at any second and tell me she’s kidding, but she just keeps pacing around the office going on and on about my new responsibilities.

  “I’ll let you know when I want you to meet with the planners. Shouldn’t be too long now. Start thinking of ideas that will make this the greatest party New York has even seen. Now back to work.” She smiles at me again and I almost trip over a chair on my way out. If it weren’t for the throbbing pain in my shin, I’d think this was a dream.

  I sneak over to Tali’s desk and give her the news. “Congratulations,” she says, hugging me. “Roxy Rule is climbing the corporate ladder. Don’t forget about the little people when you’re at the top.” She winks at me and runs back behind her desk before Greta sees her.

  This is one of those moments where I’d rush to the phone to call Ollie. When he got his promotion, I jumped up and down and high-fived him and celebrated as though I was the one being sent to London instead of him. I’ve always been able to tell him everything and now I’m scared to talk to him. I’ve been checking my email and voicemail constantly, but the thought of having any contact with him makes me a bit dizzy.

  Ethan. Ethan will be happy for me. When he called late last night after flying in from Nashville, I’d barely been able to talk to him because the guilt was choking me with every word. He didn’t seem to notice, though, because he was so tired from his trip. I could have edited the story of my meeting with Lucas Williams and removed all the details that made me out to be a cheating harlot, but I might have started to cry or something and that surely would have led me to admit what happened after I got drunk and went crazy with a cell phone. But now I’ve got an actual story to tell, one where the ending doesn’t only involve me puking all over my sisters. I’ve got a promotion. I’m getting ahead.

  I go back to my desk and reach for the phone but it rings as soon as I touch it. We are truly in sync.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I say, sitting back in my chair. “I have great news.”

  “So do I. We’re going out to lunch.”

  That’s news, all right. Ethan never goes out for lunch. It’s one of many things he considers a waste of money. He’s been bringing his own lunch to work since his first day on the job.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “Isn’t there this little deli you like close to your office?”

  I smile into the phone. This is so unexpected and unplanned and unbudgeted. Very un-Ethan. “I can meet you there at noon.”

  “Great,” he says. “It’s going to be my treat.”

  It’s official. My fiancé has either won the lottery or lost his mind.

  The rest of the morning goes by quickly and Greta doesn’t mention the Lucas Williams project again. It makes me nervous, almost as if she needs to talk about it every second in order for it to be real. What if she forgets the conversation we had this morning—just like she’s forgotten the many conversations we’ve had about raises and extra vacation days and not calling me in the middle of the night?

  Ethan is already sitting at a table when I get to the deli, and seeing him again feels like somebody’s just punched me in the stomach. I hadn’t expected that. When we talked earlier, I’d finally been able to keep my voice steady and strong, but looking at his smiling face makes me want to crawl under a table. I feel like I should have a scarlet letter sewn on my blouse. He has no idea that while he’s been away working, I’ve made out with one man and made advances on another. Pretty soon, my luck is going to run out and he’ll realize that he’s marrying a girl who doesn’t deserve him.

  He waves me over and I take a deep breath and make my way through the anxious lunch crowd to get to him, silently hoping that someone knocks me out with a sucker punch to the face. No such luck.

  “You look beautiful,” he says, kissing me and putting my purse on the empty seat next to his.

  Something’s up. Is this the part of the show where the jilted lover acts all nice and friendly before exploding and handing you a manila envelope with pictures of you with some other guy’s hand up your blouse?

  “Thanks,” I say as the waitress walks up to us. It’s the same waitress who served me and Izzie not too long ago. I smile at her and wonder if she remembers me, but the glazed-over look in her eyes tells me she does not.

  “What’ll it be?” she asks, looking distracted.

  After Ethan and I order (the usual pastrami on rye for me and a club sandwich for him), he grabs my hand from across the table and smiles at me like we’re the only two people in the room. It makes me nervous and I have a hard time keeping his gaze. It’s as if he can see right through me and he’s not going to like the movie playing in my head.

  I try to keep my mind focused on harmless things. Puppies. Flowers. Triple chocolate cupcakes with French vanilla frosting. Lucas Williams’ mouth on my neck. Shiiiit.

  “The country club had a cancellation,” Ethan says, squeezing my hand and hitting the pause button on the movie.

  I look up at him. “What?”

  “This guy I went to high school with, Fred Winters. Mother told me that he left his fiancée because she cheated on him with an old boyfriend.”

  I don’t know who these people are, but from the smile on Ethan’s face I can tell that I’m supposed to be happy that Fred Winters is now single. But all I can think about is the poor fiancée. Maybe she didn’t mean for this to happen. Maybe it was all a big mistake and Fred Winters should think it over before making any rash decisions.

  My palms are getting sweaty and I wriggle them out of Ethan’s grasp and wipe them on my pants. “Why are you telling me this?” But I think I know where this conversation is headed.

  Ethan clears his throat. “I know we’ve talked about this before and I know we’d come to a decision on the wedding, but maybe we should reconsider.”

  My heart drops down to my knees. “Your mother doesn’t want you to get married in my backyard, does she?” I ask, sounding like a five-year old child. I should have known Prudence Covington wouldn’t give up without a fight. But I’m not mad. In fact, I don’t feel much of anything right now except grateful that I’m still getting married.

  Ethan sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “It would really make her happy if we did it her way. She promised me that we could keep it small. And the country club has amazing food and they’ll decorate the hall and everything. All you have to do is pick your dress and you won’t have to worry about anything else.”

  I nod, defeated. “Okay.”

  “Really?” Ethan’s smile spreads from ear to ear and even though I try my hardest to get worked up, I fail miserably.

  “When is it?” I ask. “When was Fred Winters supposed to get married?”

  “Valentine’s Day.”

  My throat closes up and I have a hard time swallowing a sip of water. A wedding was cancelled because of a cheating bride-to-be and she’s being replaced by a cheating bride-to-be who just hasn’t been caught yet. All of this on the International Day of Love.

  “I have to tell Mother if we agree on this before two o’clock. If we don’t book it by then, we lose the spot.”

  I consider making one last desperate plea for a lovely backyard wedding next fall. But I don’t have the energy or the means to fight Prudence Covington. “Call her,” I say, trying to smile.

  When our food arrives, I concentrate on chewing each bite thirty times. It helps take my mind off the fact that I’m getting married in a country club on Valentine’s Day. I swear I can hear Tali and Adam’s voices right now telling me how cheesy that is. I raise my eyes to look at Ethan and he smiles at me adoringly. He knows nothing. I turn my attention back to the food and start counting to thirty again. I’m sure he would forgive me i
f he knew about Lucas Williams. He wouldn’t be all rash and unyielding like stupid Fred Winters. We’d talk about things and I’d cry and tell him I was ashamed, but at the end of the day he’d take me in his arms and tell me that everything was okay. That would probably happen. But is it bad that I’m not willing to risk it? And what if I continue my sad little tale and tell him what I told Ollie when I was drunk? First, I’d get a lecture on alcohol and how I shouldn’t spend so much time at the Quid because it encourages me to spend too much money on food. And then that lecture would probably lead to another one about how Tali is a raging alcoholic, which isn’t the case at all. It’s not Tali’s fault that every time she’s seen Ethan she’s had a few too many and her speech was slurred and she crashed into things. Or she did a demonstration of that party trick where she takes her bra off without removing her shirt. With one hand behind her back. It’s really awesome.

  “Didn’t you have news of your own?” Ethan asks, wiping his hands on a napkin and laying it on the side of his plate with care. His side of the table is clean and nothing is out of place. My side looks like a tornado swept through my plate. There are bits and pieces of pastrami everywhere and my hands are stained with mustard. I wipe a few crumbs off my blouse but it’s too little too late.

  I clear my throat. It’s time for the heavily edited version of my encounter with Lucas Williams.

  “Greta asked me to be involved in a campaign for a new restaurant.” There. Short and sweet. And technically not a lie.

  Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s great, darling. Are you up for it?”

  It annoys me that his question sounds like it means do you actually think you can do this without getting fired or making a fool of yourself?

  I nod and tell him what I know he wants to hear. “I’m glad Greta has confidence in me and I’m going to work hard to make sure she doesn’t regret her decision.”

  He smiles and nods.

  “I really need to go, sweetie,” I say, looking at my watch. “Can you hand me my bag?”