Beautifully Done

by Riley Mackenzie

  “La Jolla Dermatology, how may I help you?” A soft female voice bubbled through the line. Suzie, my savior had come through big time yesterday. My Internet double-checking confirmed Talia was definitely a doctor, a dermatologist no less, with a successful practice in San Diego. But what I couldn’t shake was that none of us had a clue for over a decade. I wasn’t sure if I was pissed or more disappointed. Whatever I felt ... was wrong. And I was going to find out why.

  “Good morning. Is Dr. Pryce available?”

  “She’s seeing patients—can I take a message please and I’ll have her call you back.” Fat chance. There was a fifty-fifty chance she was calling back if I left a message.

  “I’ll hold.”

  “Um, sir. It could be a while. She’s with a patient. May I ask who is calling?”

  “No problem. I’ll hold. Tell her it’s an old friend.”

  “Okay, sir.” The annoying advertisement listing every possible skin service looped over and over in my ear. She wasn’t wrong when she said I would be twiddling my thumbs. How long could shooting someone up with Botox take?

  Twenty-eight minutes later.

  “Dr. Pryce speaking.”

  “TP?” I paused for effect. “Please tell me you’re the really ritzy dermatologist for the stars and you were freezing someone’s forehead?” The line was dead silent. I yanked the phone from my ear to see if we were still connected. Then I heard laughter. And a lot of it. Soft, familiar. Best sound in a long time. I wasn’t pissed or disappointed, I was relieved my friend was back.

  “Ace?” Son of a bitch, she copied my pause. “I can play too, Mr. Monogram.”

  Fuck, she remembered to use my childhood nickname. The one that embarrassed the shit out of me and was stitched on every backpack growing up. I didn’t care though. She could have called me Bambi if her voice stayed this relaxed.

  “How lucky, you didn’t have to change your initials. Who would I think about every time I changed the toilet paper? Thank your husband for me.”

  “Very subtle, Ace. Not. I changed my name for professional reasons … only.” Really, so she wasn’t married? “Anyway, why are you calling me? We bump into each other after a million years and now you’re a stalker? I’m in the middle of office hours.”

  “Well, you see, Doctor, I have this rash and it’s in a place where, well you know, that place and I think I need an expert to—you know, examine it, maybe take a closer look, make sure I’m not contagious. You have any available appointments? I could be on the next flight out.”

  “God, you never change-” She squeaked out in between bouts of laughter. “How’d I make it all these years without my Asher Evan Craig?”

  Did she just say my? I’m such a sap.

  “Don’t know, TP, but now that I found you you’re stuck with me and all my humor.”

  “Says who?” Her suddenly very light voice got serious. “Listen, I’d love to catch up more, but I have patients waiting. I have to go.”

  Click. She hung up on me. I hit redial. She wasn’t ready for our reunion, but unfortunately she had no choice. I was more than ready to dive in.

  “La Jolla Dermatology, how may I help you?”

  “Yes, I was just speaking with Dr. Pryce about a very urgent matter and our line got disconnected.”

  “Please hold, sir.” Cue annoying advertisement. “Mr. Craig?”

  “Yes.” She knew it was me. I smiled.

  “Dr. Pryce wanted me to take down all of your contact information and she will call you when she finishes with her patients for the day.”

  Score. One point: Ace. Even. It could have been embarrassing, good thing I was alone in my office. Now I looked like a Cheshire cat.

  She made me wait three days. Three whole days. Was I a girl or what? And when that text came through Friday evening, damn did she prove she knew exactly what she was doing to me. Worth the wait? Those three words had me so fucking flustered I was damn near ready to cancel my date, especially when the second text said, who’s the lucky girl you’re wining and dining? She reclaimed her title after all these years of Master of Pushing My Buttons. She rocked it back in the day and it was obvious she hadn’t lost her touch. Two points: Talia.

  So when I finally texted her back I skipped over the date part and went with Girls. As in multiple. Five to be exact. I knew she probably had no clue what I meant. And I was sure she probably didn’t give two shits whether I had a fuck buddy or five. For all she knew I had a serious girlfriend or a fiancée, shit, I could have been married with four kids. The Wall Street Douche didn’t let us get that far. I hated that he knew her.

  I walked into my living room and picked up the one and only framed snapshot I had of the four of us. Damn, we were young. And so happy. The candid photo captured our innocence. We were laughing like we did ninety percent of the time we were together. We had just rocked our first really big gig in The Village. Chase and Kimi had their guitars slung over their shoulders, I was twirling my drumstick, and Talia was smashed between Chase and me looking sweaty and sexy. With no cares in the world, we defined the word invincible. We lived for the moment. I have—fortunately or unfortunately—never stopped. My motto, good or bad, was live every day like it was your last. Because, it could be.

  I placed the wood frame back on my shelf and slunk down into my couch. We had made it through that set without any mishaps, planned or not, that night. The following gig, not so much. I laughed out loud, breaking the thick melancholic silence around me. I would never forget that night. Sitting behind my drums doing my thing, Talia spun on her heel, her mischievous grin lighting up the dim set. We knew what was coming. Third song in our line-up, Chase had a guitar solo, and without fail, he made his way to the front of the stage. Same path every time, methodical even then. This time his pedal got moved ever so slightly and he went flying right off the stage face first. Not exactly our intention, but damn was that shit hilarious. Talia doubled over and laughed so hard tears streamed down her pretty face. Luckily he didn’t get hurt, just busted his ego, and deservedly so. He started off the evening being a demanding dick. Typical bossy bullshit. Talia and I decided we had enough and payback could be a bitch. Surprisingly, to this damn day Chase had no idea we caused the whole scene. TP and her pinky swears. I lost count on what we were taking to our graves. Too bad she didn’t trust me when it counted.

  I went on my Friday night date but strayed from following my motto. Instead of partying it up, I spent the night stalking my phone for a text back, intermixed with some dancing. The whole time my head was buried in her long hair, I wished I were smelling jasmine and mint. Pretty sure the only reason I screwed the blonde from Chase and Lili’s wedding band again was because she reminded me of Talia. And when she hummed something sexy in my ear while we were banging, all I heard was Talia’s voice. How effed was that? I couldn’t help myself. Talia had a killer voice. Not only was she our lead singer, but she also wrote and composed most of our songs. And most importantly, she was never afraid to leave it all on the stage. Her raw passion seeped from her soul and infiltrated everyone around her.

  I was fucked. Royally screwed. Something had to give. I didn’t do this. I didn’t pine. Hell no.

  “Unkie Ashy Unkie Ashy, what tooks you so long?” My three-year-old niece attacked me at the front door.

  “She’s been waiting by the window for you all freaking day. You’d think I’d told her Santa was coming. I should’ve waited to tell her, but damn, did that window prove to be a fantastic babysitter.” My youngest sister got on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

  “Unkie Ashy, you haft to see my new baby, hers poops and pees.”

  My sister Avery shrugged and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, ask your sister Molly, she didn’t want the crappy doll at her house anymore so now it’s at mine.”

  No pun intended. I laughed and followed her into the kitchen with my niece super-glued to my leg.

  “Come up here, baby, give me a kiss.” I unwrapped Emma from my leg and dragged her up
my body for a quick peck. “You go get that doll, I’ve got to see this.” Back on her feet, she scampered down the hall.

  “Where is everyone? No way I’m the first one here.” It was usually bustling by the time I arrived. Usually late, but I made it, every third Saturday. We pretty much stuck to it. One of my sisters typically hosted now that our parents were older. Since I was the only one traveling and they lived within a five-mile radius of each other, it didn’t really matter which house. My parents hightailed it out of Manhattan the day my dad retired, which happened to be a week after his diagnosis two years ago.

  “Everyone’s out back. We just got one of those cool chimeneas. Drew started a fire. But, he may’ve just taken the guys to the basement to look at some stupid tool. Mom and Dad aren’t here yet. Come get a drink.”

  My cell vibrated inside my jacket pocket.

  78 and sunny

  Just sayin

  Who needs 78 and sunny

  when u can hold a doll that shits itself

  What?! Do I want to know?

  Sounds like u need 78 and sunny

  Maybe I do

  And nothing. Shit.

  “Who ya texting?” My oldest sister Molly was the biggest nag of them all.

  “Hi Moll, nice to see you too.”

  She laughed. “So it’s a woman. About freaking time.”

  “Molly, leave him alone, he hasn’t even been here five minutes and you’re already giving him a hard time.”

  “Thanks, Tar.”

  My middle sister Tara was the laidback one. After growing up in the middle of those two you didn’t have a choice but to go with the flow. And her husband Charlie was awesome. For two reasons. One, he had his own name, and two, he owned a sailing school for kids. That was cool.

  My other two sisters, on the other hand, married Andrew and Andrew. Can’t make this shit up. Avery’s spouse, Andrew Kent the second, also known as Drew, had zero personality and absolutely no substance. He sort of reminded me of gagging on Farina. Not sure what Ave was thinking that day. She totally did drugs in college. While Andrew Milton the third, Molly’s husband, sold insurance. That pretty much summed that up. Good thing they all had daughters or we would be on Andrew the 8th by now.

  “So what’s new, Ash, heard from Chase?” Tara popped the cap of a beer and handed it to me.

  “Nah, he’s probably so far up Lili’s ass they’re gonna come back as one.”

  My sisters all chuckled. The guy practically grew up in our house. They had his number too.

  “You’re just jealous. They’re awesome. Lili’s such a great girl; he really lucked out. The wedding was like a fairytale.”

  “I agree. It was like right out of a storybook. Amazing and beautiful. But I want to know when my baby brother is gonna have his fairytale ending.” Great, first Molly, now Avery too.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine, living life.”

  Molly leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “That’s right, you are living. But it doesn’t mean it has to be alone. We just want to see you happy.”

  “I am happy.” Something I never questioned until recently. “And I don’t know how many times I’ve told you I’m not getting married.”

  “Who’s getting married?”

  “Hi Ma.” I stood up and kissed my mother’s cheek. “No one. Molly is just bustin’ chops, as usual. Hey, Pops, how’s it going?”

  My dad slapped my back and pulled me in for a hug. I watched my sisters’ smiles tighten imperceptibly. Since his Alzheimer’s diagnosis we couldn’t help but walk on eggshells.

  “What’s happening? Where are the guys?” Everyone released the breath they were holding. My dad never forgot that when the air was suffocating with female hormones it was best to exit as quickly as possible. Today must be a good day.

  “Good call. The basement, let’s go.”

  Not two feet back into the house, Emma came bounding around the corner. “Pop, Unkie Ashy, see my baby, hers poops and pees.”

  “She what?” My seventy-five-year-old father looked at me. I shrugged and rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t ask, Pop. Emma baby, where are your cousins?”

  “In the payroom doin’ dress up. I’s Tinkerbell, come see.”

  So much for joining the testosterone.

  “Head down, Dad, I’ll go with Emma for bit.” My dad appreciated the reprieve. He patted her head and bolted, while I let Emma tug me away. “Where to, darling?”

  One step through that door and I knew I was not leaving the same way I came in. “Girls, holy … what the...” My voice trailed off before I dropped the f-bomb in front of my three to thirteen-year-old nieces. “Do your mothers know what you’re doing?” I coughed then held my breath. Between the colored hair spray, nail polish fumes and feathers floating through the air I was sure I was high. They were covered in every shade of eye shadow and lipstick showered with glitter and sequins. It was like Barbie vomited all over Tweetie.

  “Hey, Uncle Asher. We’re just practicing for Halloween. What are you dressing up as? Mom said you had a cool grown-up party to go to?” the oldest chimed in.

  “Don’t know, any ideas?”

  One of my biggest clients hosted one of those over-the-top parties every year. It was stupid, but I still had to make an appearance. Remember where your bread was buttered bullshit.

  “Come on, Uncle Asher, Halloween’s next week. You need a cool costume.”

  “Cool, huh?” As for my costume, it didn’t matter as long as whoever was on my arm had fishnets and thigh highs. And then I cringed and wished those thoughts away because my five nieces were standing in front of me. Some douche would be drooling over them soon enough. I did not envy my brothers-in-law. All I knew was if I ever had a girl, not that I could or would, but if I did, I sure as hell would keep her locked in her room until she was twenty-five. “Well let’s not waste all this hard work. Get together. I want a pic of all of you in your costumes since I won’t see you next week.” I snapped a shot with my cell and decided I needed that testosterone ASAP.

  “Unkie Ashy, wait, my wings is falling off. My wings is broookeeen.” Cue flail on the floor and sob, the kid went boneless. I peeled her screaming jellied body off the carpet and deposited her with my mother and fled the scene without a glance back.

  Bet you can’t beat this.

  I sent Talia the photo of my nieces. My five girls.

  Wow. I see you sat this one out...

  Afraid pink and feathers might ruin ur complexion

  And I bet I can...

  A second text immediately followed, a picture. A rock formation with water flowing into a spectacular crystal blue pool. But that’s not what I focused on. The picture was snapped from someone sitting on a plush lounge chair with bare legs and perfectly manicured crossed feet. Images of rolling my tongue up that silky smoothness while caressing those pale pink toes flooded my vision. Shit. I stepped into the bathroom and adjusted my jeans.

  You win.

  I joined the men in the basement and fortunately missed the lame tool discussion. Then again, it might have bored my dick back to soft. Damn picture. Charlie was talking about a new sailboat he was considering. A fifty-foot catamaran. Impressive.

  “Man, that’s awesome. Congrats. Can’t wait to go out with you in the spring.” I grew up with a boat and definitely got the appeal. It wasn’t the adrenaline rush from a killer mountain bike ride or a rock climb, but I wouldn’t mind getting back out on the water.

  “Yeah, I’m psyched. I’ve always wanted something like this, but I haven’t had the balls to pull the trigger. We need another vessel in the water, especially with the school expansion. Just hope we can pull it off.”

  I assumed his sailing school was killing it. But what did I know? My sisters were as proud as my old man. To truly enjoy it, you needed to earn it. Stubborn family trait. Like I was one to talk. “Speaking of, I was talking about your sail school with one of my clients.” White lie. “He’s always looking f
or investments and write offs. Told him about the program you ran last summer with the special needs kids. He’s interested in funding it. All of it. Say the word. I’ll set it up.”

  “Shit. That would be amazing. That’s a huge draw on the budget.”

  “Done. I’ll make the call. One condition—you pull the trigger on the fifty-footer and I get to take her for a spin.”

  “You got it. Thanks, bro.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, man. Easy work for my firm and I just scored free sailing. Win, win.” We clinked our beers and I made a mental note to create another imaginary client, as well as make another deposit into the kids’ trust funds. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. They deserved it.

  The familiar buzz interrupted and I excused myself. “Well, well, well. We were just talking about the king and his queen. Everything okay in the world of sushi?”

  “Yeah, you ass. It’s awesome. You at dinner?” Chase questioned.

  “What do you think?” He knew exactly where I was. Guarantee his sentimental ass called Maggie first thing this morning and checked in like he did every family dinner that he wasn’t parked at the table. “Wait. You miss me. You fucking miss me. I knew you would—can’t go three weeks without talking to me.”

  “Oh, shut the hell up. Lili wanted me to call and make sure you’re behaving.”

  “Blame it on the wife. Good, C. Mature.”

  “You’re such an asshole. It’s confirmed you’re still a dick, so now I can enjoy the rest of my trip. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, asshole.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Miss you too. See you in a couple of weeks,” I mumbled through laughter before I hung up the phone.

  I was surprised by another annoying pang of guilt. Not that I would have told him on his honeymoon that I bumped into Talia Prince. I meant Pryce. Besides there wasn’t much to tell. We crossed paths, spoke once, and texted a couple of times. Right, keep telling myself that.