Desperate Chances

by A. Meredith Walters

  And that was Gracie Cook’s idea of success.

  But now I was sans car and I had to be at the Blue Ridge Botanical Gardens in twenty minutes for my first interview as a full-fledged staff writer for Southern Gardens magazine.

  I was off to a hell of a start it seemed.

  “Ugh!” I growled under my breath.

  “Uh oh. You’ve got that Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein mad scientist look going on. That’s a sure sign of trouble. What did you forget at home this time?”

  I watched as Mitch walked through the parking lot looking like walking, talking awesome. His hair had recently been cut and curled around his ears. He was wearing a faded green bomber jacket with old military patches on the sleeves that I had always loved. He must be going for the I-didn’t-feel-like-shaving-this-morning look because he had a day’s growth on his face that really worked for him. My stomach did a few flip-flops just to make sure I was paying attention.

  “What makes you think I forgot something at home?” I put a hand on my hip and tried to be sassy. Like I would have been before I had lost my damn mind over this man.

  “I’ve seen that expression enough times to know you’ve either a. left your phone somewhere. B. Forgotten your wallet. Or c. remembered you left the coffee machine on and are freaking out that the apartment is going to burn down.”

  Damn, he really did know me so well.

  I dropped my hand and I lightly slapped my thigh. “Well hot damn, you’ve got me.” Mitch chuckled and I liked how easy it sounded. “Actually I’m supposed to be on my way to the botanical gardens in Littlewood and I forgot my camera. And my notebook. And my car…”

  Mitch’s eyes twinkled in bemusement “How the hell did you forget your car? Did you teleport here or something? Oh man, did you figure out the whole space-time continuum thing? Because if so, you need to share.”

  “Ha, ha, smart ass. Vivian dropped me off at the library this morning because my car is in the shop. I wasn’t thinking about that when I scheduled the interview for my feature. I guess I was just super excited to set up everything. This is my first full length feature as a staff writer and I wanted to do things right.” I looked at my watch and realized I was screwed. “But it seems I jumped the gun a bit and now I’m going to have to reschedule the interview. Which makes me look like a total amateur,” I grumbled. I pulled out my phone and was starting to dial the number to the gardens when Mitch spoke up.

  “Well, hang on a minute. I don’t have anything going on today, how about I drive you out to Littlewood?”

  “What?” I asked in shock. Was he really suggesting we spend time together? Had he hit his head and been rendered temporarily insane?

  Mitch shrugged. “It’s no big deal. You’re without a car. I have one in perfect working order, just over there. We can’t have you looking like an amateur, now can we?”

  Was he teasing me? It had been so long since he had I was pretty sure I had forgotten what it sounded and looked like.

  “Is that such a good idea?” I had to ask it. I had been told to stay away from him. And even though I had no intention of letting Sophie Lanier boss me around, she was still his girlfriend and it had to be his call.

  Mitch chewed on the inside of mouth and nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine.” I couldn’t tell if he knew about my run in with Sophie and I wasn’t about to ask him.

  “Okay, sounds good,” I said but then narrowed my eyes speculatively. “I don’t have my wallet so I can’t bribe you with food or beer. Or Twizzlers.”

  Mitch put his hand on the small of my back to begin steering me towards his car. I tried not to shiver at his touch. I almost succeeded. Almost. Did he notice? I sure hope not. “I’ll take a rain check then,” he said, unlocking the doors with his key fob. “Now get it.”

  I got into the passenger side of Mitch’s Jeep, moving a pile of dirty socks and old tennis shoes to the floor. I made a face as I handed him a moldy banana peel. “You still keep your car like this? It’s brand new! But look at it! How many times have I told you that growing penicillin in your car is a bad thing?” I gagged a little.

  “How many times have I told you that if you have a problem with it, I’ll be more than happy to let you clean it.” Mitch turned on the engine and started to back out of the parking space.

  “Watch out!” I screamed, pointing to the van that was reversing at the same time.

  Mitch maneuvered around the other vehicle while laying on his horn and giving the other guy the finger. “Oh my god, I forgot about what a horrible backseat driver you are,” Mitch complained.

  I gasped as he took a turn too quickly, driving up over the curb and narrowly missing the mailbox. “And I forgot about what a supremely shit driver you are.”

  “Hey, I’ve never been in an accident,” he countered.

  “Not one that the police have been called to,” I corrected.

  “That tree came out of nowhere,” he argued.

  “Yeah it jumped out of the ground and ran into your car. How could I forget?” I remarked dryly.

  “Turn on the radio. I don’t want to hear you lecturing me about using my signal before I turn the whole way there,” he grumped but his lips twitched and I knew he wasn’t serious.

  “God forbid you follow the rules of the road, Mitch Abrams,” I muttered, trying to cover my smile.

  This was an old song and dance. One that we had done a thousand times before.

  It felt good.

  Like maybe I hadn’t completely lost my best friend.

  Sophie could suck it.

  I turned on the radio and a familiar song blasted through the speakers. I looked over at him in surprise.

  “You still have this CD?” I asked him.

  I noticed that his cheeks flushed a peculiar shade of red. As though he were embarrassed at being found out.

  “Yeah, well shit pop grows on you after a while,” he replied gruffly.

  I felt tingles everywhere.

  I had made him a CD with all of my favorite songs years ago after complaining about his general lack of taste when it came to music—his own band not withstanding.

  He had grumbled and argued but of course had let me have my way. And he had kept that CD in his player ever since.

  I would have assumed after everything that went down he would have thrown it out, along with our friendship.

  But he hadn’t.

  And that made me all squishy inside.

  “Do you know how to get to the botanical gardens?” I asked him once we were on the interstate.

  “Yeah, I’ve been there before,” he said, jerking the wheel as he passed a tractor-trailer.

  “You’ve been to Blue Ridge Botanical Gardens?” I scoffed.

  Mitch’s jaw tightened and he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. What was with the mood shift?

  “Uh, well I came out here with Sophie last year,” he muttered, cutting across two lanes of traffic to make the exit.

  I slammed against the door as he cut a tight turn down the off ramp which only exacerbated the twisting and turning in my stomach at Mitch’s admission.

  Of course he went with his girlfriend. She looks like the let’s-walk-through-gardens-and-skip-through-fields-talking-to-animals kind of chick. I hate her and her stupid let’s go to the botanical gardens in our free time ass.

  Wow, that was harsh, even for an internal monologue. Even if I thought she deserved it.

  “Oh, okay. Well then at least we won’t get lost,” I remarked brightly. So bright it was like the goddamned sun in the car.

  “Have a look on the floor in the backseat, I think there might be a notebook back there,” he said, honking at a VW bug driving down the middle of the road. He rolled down the window and flipped the guy off.

  “You really should address your road rage issues,” I told him. I glanced at the floor behind the seat and cringed. “I think something’s moving back there. I’m scared.”

  Mitch snorted. “Don’t be such a girl about it. Just
look would ya. We’re almost there.”

  “If I lose a finger, I’m going to be pissed,” I warned. Mitch rolled his eyes and I forgot about Sophie and my highly unreasonable jealousy.

  I twisted in my seat and leaned over the center console. I pushed aside three sweatshirts with questionable stains, an old lunchbox, and a bird feeder made of twigs.

  “What in the heck do you have a bird feeder back here for?” I asked, my voice muffled. I looked over my shoulder to find Mitch staring at my ass. Which was right at his eye level. And I was wearing a skirt.

  “It’s my mom’s. She was in some kind of art group and thought it would look perfect in Garrett’s yard,” Mitch answered, his voice husky.

  I quickly found a green notebook and a pen and pulled myself back up. Mitch chose that moment to take a sharp turn and my butt all but hit him in the face. He put his hand up and braced himself. Against my left ass cheek.

  I went completely still, unable to move.

  Because Mitch was cupping my bum.

  “Uh—” I gulped and he moved his hand like he had been burned.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I should learn to take the toe off huh?” he chuckled uneasily.

  I sat back down in my seat and gave him a weak smile, my heart hammering in my chest, making me lightheaded.

  “That would probably be a good idea if you want to live to see old age,” I said primly.

  Mitch pulled up in front of a colonial style house and killed the engine.

  “This is it,” he said, sounding like he was choking. He wouldn’t look at me and I knew it had to do with the whole butt-grabbing thing. Things had gotten weird again, which made me incredibly sad because we had actually been getting along lately.

  I climbed out of the car, tucking the notebook and pen into my purse. “Thank you so much for riding to my rescue yet again.” We stood there looking everywhere but at each other. We were so incredibly lame. “Um, well you don’t have to stick around. I can call Viv or Mays when I’m finished and have them come and get me.”

  Mitch zipped up his coat and grabbed a stocking cap from the backseat, pulling it down over his dark head. “I’ll tag along if it’s okay. Like I said, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

  I smiled, this time with total sincerity. “I’d like that.”

  “I just have to walk around and take some pictures and I’ll be finished. I’ll just use my phone and hope they’re good enough,” I said to Mitch an hour later.

  The interview with Mrs. Wagner, the director of the botanical gardens went pretty well. She was a lovely lady that answered all of my questions with a smile and plied me with homemade fudge and hot chocolate. She encouraged me and my “man friend”—as she referred to Mitch—to take a stroll around the grounds. The gardens were closing in thirty minutes but she assured me that staff would be around so I could take as long as I needed.

  “You’ve got a decent phone. It’s high res with 1.9 mega pixels, the pictures should be pretty good,” Mitch informed me after having inspecting the camera.

  “I had no idea you were so well versed in camera phone specs,” I remarked as we headed out to the topiary garden towards the back of the house. The light was starting to go and I needed to take the pictures quickly. I stopped along the path and snapped a few shots in the dwindling light.

  “I’m well versed in lots of things, G,” Mitch said with a smirk.

  “Of course, how could I forget?” I hadn’t meant for my voice to go all rough and seductive like. Mitch gave me a heated look and I had to turn away, pretending to be engrossed in the sculpted box hedges.

  “Hey, check it out! These bushes are molded in the shape of musical instruments,” I called out, pointing to a grouping of plants towards the back of the garden.

  “Pretty cool,” Mitch agreed.

  “Come on, Mitch, give me a pose,” I laughed.

  Mitch went and stood behind the smaller bush shaped like a guitar and made a show of banging his head up and down, sticking out his tongue á la Gene Simmons.

  I took a few pictures, not able to stop giggling as Mitch’s faces became more absurd as he played rock star. I looked down at the screen of my phone, flipping through the snaps. “These would make a great album cover,” I teased.

  Mitch jumped over the bush and grabbed my phone. “I look awesome!”

  I snatched my phone back and gave him a playful shove. “It’s good to know your ego is in check,” I snipped.

  “I only call it like it is.” He rustled my hair and I swatted his hand away. “Oh, I forgot how much you hate having your hair messed with,” Mitch grinned.

  “You’re hair may look good in the just rolled around on the ground way, but mine certainly doesn’t,” I said, giving him a good case of stink eye.

  “Whatever, G, you always look beautiful.” Mitch, realizing what he said, closed his mouth and quickly walked towards a wisteria that threaded around a statue of naked man

  “What’s up with this guy? He looks like he’s in pain. And more importantly, why is he in the buff?” Mitch commented, clearly trying to change the subject.

  I cocked my head to the side. “I think he’s trying to push that boulder up a hill. Though why he’s doing it naked is anyone’s guess.” The light was almost gone and I could see the staff start to head out to their cars. “I think we should get going. I’ve gotten enough pictures.”

  “Okay. Let’s head out.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and started jangling them in his hand. I reached out and took the keys, my fingers lingering momentarily as I touched him.

  “You know I hate it when you do that,” I said.

  Mitch held out his hand. “I won’t do it again. I promise,” he teased with a smile.

  I gave him back his keys and this time when our fingers made contact neither of us moved away. Mitch wrapped his hand around mine, the keys wedged between our palms.

  “I had fun today, Gracie,” he said, looking down at me.

  “Me too. I didn’t think we could ever be like this again,” I added in hushed tones.

  “Be like what?” he asked.

  “Like Mitch and Gracie.”

  Mitch’s thumb slowly stroked the underside of my wrist where my pulse fluttered madly. “I always liked Mitch and Gracie.”

  “Me too,” I agreed. “I miss them a lot.”

  Mitch frowned, looking perturbed. “I’ve said some pretty harsh things to you recently. First at the Norfolk show. Then at Garrett’s. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff to you.”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay, Mitch. I get it. I really do. You’ve been really angry with me. We do need to find a way to be around each other that all parties are comfortable with.” I sounded like I was trying to mediate in court.

  Mitch ignored my dorkiness.

  We were still holding hands, standing close together. I was scared to say anything else. I didn’t want to ruin this incredibly important moment.

  “I’m comfortable like this,” he said softly. So softly. His thumb still stroking the tender, vulnerable skin of my wrist.

  I licked my lips that were suddenly very dry. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I didn’t say any of them. Words were insufficient. Unnecessary. Mitch and I had always been able to read each other. He knew what lived inside my head better than I did.

  We stared into each other’s eyes in the dying sunlight and I felt it. The connection we had always shared. It was still there, underneath the bullshit and drama. Strong as ever.

  “We should get back,” I reminded him. I could see Mrs. Baker waiting by the gate for us so she could lock up.

  Mitch dropped my hand and quickly turned away from me as though embarrassed. Wait. Did I do something wrong?

  I put my hand on his arm. “Mitch, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s cool. We need to get back to Bakersville. I’m supposed to go to Sophie’s later anyway.” He was suddenly so cold. The warm, open Mitch I had just become reacquainted with disappeared totally
.

  “Yeah, well I don’t want you to be late,” I spat. I couldn’t help the nastiness that dripped off my tongue. I was annoyed with him for getting upset with me for no real reason. I was annoyed with myself for interrupting a great moment. I was annoyed with Mrs. Wagner who was impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for us to leave.

  Mitch frowned and followed me down the path towards the parking lot.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Wagner,” I said as we left.

  “Of course! I can’t wait to see your article. You two come back soon!”

  I definitely didn’t think that would happen.

  Neither Mitch nor I talked as we got into the car. I turned on the CD I made for him back when we weren’t bogged down by misinterpretation and silence.

  When we pulled up in front of my apartment building I wasn’t sure what to say. So I held up the notebook. “Mind if I hang onto this? All my notes from today are in it. I’ll give it back to you when I’m done.”

  Mitch gave me a brusque nod. “That’s fine. Keep it.”

  “Thanks again for driving me,” I said, opening the passenger door. I started to get out but then stopped. I turned back around to face Mitch who appeared confused by the fact that I wasn’t closing the door.

  “Did you forget some—”

  “This is ridiculous!” I nearly shouted, cutting him off.

  Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you yelling at me? I’m the nice guy here, driving you to your interview and bringing you home. So what the hell do you have to be angry about?” he demanded.

  “Why do you keep doing this to me? I can’t keep up with your damn mood swings!” I was getting worked up but I couldn’t help it. We had had a nice day. The best day I could remember having with him in a long time. And now he was treating me like a burden. Like a waste of time.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve been very clear how I feel—” Mitch shouted back but I interrupted him again.