“Yeah.”
Todd looks at the table, avoiding our eyes. “It wasn’t band stuff. It was Mrs. Nesbitt.”
Andy’s lost. “Who? What are we talking about?”
“His cat.”
Andy starts to grin, and then purses his lips as soon as the grin spreads wide. He’s trying not to laugh. “Your cat?”
Todd still won’t look at either of us. “That whole week, Mrs. Nesbitt, my cat—the house sitter kept texting me and telling me she wasn’t eating. She was worried about her, and she wanted to take her to the vet.”
“Your cat?” Andy still has his lips pursed in a tight pucker.
Todd puffs his chest out, defensive. “Dude, she was all the family I had. I got her when I moved out of my parents’ house.”
“So you got her last month, you mean.” I can’t help it.
“Shut up, Jeremy. Try not to be such a dick. Do you want my help with Macy or not?”
Andy’s regained his composure, and his mouth is back to normal. “What happened to Mrs. Nesbitt?”
Todd swallows hard. “I told the house sitter to just wait, that I’d get home and take her to the vet myself. She was sixteen.”
I react. “My God, that’s like zombie status.”
“Jeremy!” Andy scolds me.
Todd looks up at the ceiling of the tent. “But she died, on that last day. The house sitter found her all curled up…” He lets the sentence trail off, and he turns his back to the both of us.
Andy coughs. “Sorry, man.”
“Yeah, no wonder you were such a douche that whole week. Sorry.”
Andy shakes his head at me. “Remind me not to invite you to speak at my funeral.”
“You couldn’t invite me, you’d be dead. But I’d say nice things, I swear.”
We sit in silence for a minute, stare at Todd’s back. He may be shuddering ever so slightly. Then I hear a sniffle, and he turns back to face us.
“Who do I need to set the record straight with? Are you going to confront Richard?” Todd’s eyes look wet, but he juts out his chin, jaw set in determination. I almost feel for the guy.
Andy stands up. “Now I really wish Tucker were here. I don’t know about this.”
We follow him back to the dance floor, where it does appear that Quincy is showing some signs of slowing down. She stands on Kelly’s toes, and Kelly sways with her in a circle to the music.
I finish the discussion up before we’re within earshot of Kelly. “I don’t know what I’ll say to Richard. I need a couple more days for my people to connect all the dots. A holiday weekend is not a great time to track down bankers.”
“We’ll figure it out. Maybe not right now, though.” Andy nods in Kelly’s direction. And he’s right, she definitely doesn’t need to be dragged into this.
I check my phone and realize I haven’t heard from Macy.
“On your phone, Jeremy? Maybe I should make some dick comment about it.” Todd stands next to me.
“I see you’re back to being one of my least favorite guys.” I consider texting Macy.
And then, there she is. She walks into the tent at the far end, by the Rotarians. Her hair is down, wavy at her shoulders.
She wears a red top with white shorts and a blue pair of cowboy boots.
Of course she does. She fits here.
She’s radiant.
I watch her as she makes her way through the crowd. These are people she knows. She gives a few small smiles here and there, waves to Kevin/Kramer, even talks to Evan the other guy for a minute.
Her eyes search the crowd. She weaves in and out of the masses on the dance floor, every so often craning her neck to get a better view.
Is she—could it be that she’s actually looking for me?
I dismiss it as soon as I think it.
But, then, she spots me.
And here’s the thing—remember when I wondered what it would be like to have that one person—not a huge crowd, just that one person—who lit up when I walked in the room?
Well, friends, she sees me, her eyes widen, her lips split into a grin, and
She.
Lights.
Up.
She pulls her petite frame up tall, and I swear she skips the last few feet through the crowd to me.
I don’t care if she’s skittish, I don’t care if she’s trouble. I pull her into my arms and look at this smile, this happiness on her face, that I think just might be there because of me.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
I touch her face, gently run my thumb over her bottom lip. “What’s this smile about?”
She tilts her head a little, considering, purses her lips. “What can I say, Mr. King. I’m happy to see you.”
I kiss her then and hold her close to me.
And I swear to God this could be all there is and I’d be good.
“Mr. King.” A cold voice from over my shoulder breaks the perfect moment into a thousand pieces.
I’d like to break the owner’s face, for more reasons than one.
I turn around and face him. “Richard.”
“Macy, you’re making all kinds of choices I don’t think are wise.” Richard looks right through me and settles on Macy.
“Richard, his trip’s over. Nothing happened while I was working with him on the river.”
“Messing with the guests. And stealing.”
Macy shakes her head, as though she’s trying to cast a nightmare away. “No, no, none of this is right.”
I step in front of her. I know she hates alphas, but it takes one to take another one down. “Richard, you better go. You made the mistake of pinning your mishandling on Macy. My attorneys are on it, and I am, too. The deposit, your bad choices, all of it.”
He looks at me. He looks unsettled, maybe worried. “You know this girl for five minutes and…”
I step to him. “I would quit while you’re ahead. Say another word, and I’ll break your nose.”
Andy walks up, with Todd in tow. “What’s going on? Anything you need help with, J?”
Richard steps back, puts space between me and him. “We’re fine.” He stalks away through the crowd, on his phone to someone as he walks to the parking lot.
Macy leans in to me, her body going soft. “What am I going to do?”
I hold her. “Just trust me that I’m really close to fixing this. There’s nothing to worry about.” I stroke her hair.
“You’re petting me.”
I stand there with her, play with a few strands of the blonde with brown tips. “You know, to be honest, I don’t understand your hair. If we’re being straight with each other.”
She punches my arm. “It’s called reverse ombre. It’s a thing.” She pokes at me now, continuing to assault my arm. “And I’m serious. What am I going to do?”
“You could come with me. Get out of here for a while. There’s no point in sticking around in a place like this.”
“Except that I love it. And I love the river. But if I don’t have my job…” She leaves off. Her eyes look misty, and her face reveals the fear of being lost, unmoored.
“Just come with me. Let me fix it. Just get out of here.”
She stands there, twisting a red, white and blue hair tie ‘round and around her wrist. “You want me to just bail out? That’s what’s supposed to fix this?”
“Right now I’m going to take you in my arms and dance with you close to me. But yes, after that, I’m the one who cares about you, and I think it’d be good to get away from here.”
“You ‘care’ about me. I’m giving up on the only job I’ve ever really been good at to go with someone who ‘cares’. That’s some weak sauce there, if you’re trying to convince me.”
“Stop.” I take her by the hand.
“Stop what?”
“Stop pushing for me to say something more.”
“About what?”
“I’m not going to say I love you right now. You won’t let me in. You want me to
throw my heart at your feet, but you won’t tell me who taught you to tie flies or where your mom went.”
I pull her close and feel her through the damp of my shirt. She’s quiet. Her lips are parted, but whatever words were poised on them, they stay put.
“Are we agreed, then?” I take her hand, slip my other arm around her waist to dance with her. I rub her palm in circles with my thumb, sway with her in my arms to the country music that’s too soft to make the words out.
“We haven’t agreed on anything since you showed up three weeks ago.”
“Make it easy for me. From the second I saw you, I wanted you, but from the second you opened your mouth, you were dead-set on making it hard.”
“You make it hard. You make it hard to not want to punch you in the mouth sometimes.”
“Well, you’ve already done that, so can you just consider what I’m saying and set the physical beating aside?”
She rests her head on my chest and just dances with me. After a good minute, she looks at me. “I don’t know. Let me think about it later. I don’t even want to think right now.”
Her eyes fill up, wet and uncertain. I can’t push any harder, not tonight. “Fair enough.”
And we dance.
I take Macy home, drop her at her front door.
“Think about it.”
“I’ve already thought about it. I can’t leave the river. It’s the only place where I’m good at anything. Don’t take that away.”
“There are other rivers.”
“Not near LA. Isn’t that the point? That we’d be together?”
My head hurts. “I want your name cleared, and I want you to have a fresh start. There are other rivers.”
“I like this one.”
She drives me to drink, this woman.
I close my eyes, promise to pour a strong one when I get back the lodge, then take a slow, deep breath.
“Our main job right now is to clear the accusations up. Richard’s nervous, so I think I’m on the right track. Then we can finish the discussion of where you’re going to reign as fisherperson supreme. But the whole finance thing—I’ll have it figured out and you cleared before the end of this weekend.”
“I don’t see how you can do that.”
“Trust me. I’m good at meddling, remember? That’s why you hated me for a while.”
“Jury’s still out.” She counters. “I haven’t totally let go of that.”
“Point taken. I remain on probation.”
We stand in front of her door, and I can hear the little psycho dogs whining on the other side of it.
“You better get in there. Justin Trudeau’ll have an aneurysm.”
She looks at me. Is she thinking about kissing me, maybe?
“Okay. Good night.” She slips in the door and shuts it in my face.
Guess not.
I get into the Yukon and start it. I sit there and check my phone.
There’s a rap on my window. After I peel myself off the roof of the car, I put the window down for Macy.
“We could just drive around for a little bit. Maybe talk.”
She’s reconsidered. Maybe she is thinking about kissing me.
“Get in.”
She gets in the car, and I back out, pull away from her apartment complex. The night is deep now. When it’s dark in LA, it’s never dark. The landscape is always bathed in the milky light of the city—parking lots, high rises, freeways, stadiums—they all cast a halogen glow over the whole valley, and you’re never really in the dark.
Middle of nowhere Idaho dark is another story. Without the moon tonight, I can only see as far as my headlights’ beams in front of the car.
Macy sits next to me and looks out the window. At nothing.
“How’s the view?”
“Hmm?” She picks her head up, turns to face me.
“Were we going to drive and talk or drive and sulk or what?”
She bows her head. “Sorry. I just thought about how you’re trying to help. I felt bad for shutting the door in your face.”
“The dogs are probably eating what’s left of your sofa for coming home and leaving again.”
She smiles. “Probably.”
We sit quiet for a minute as I try to decide what to say. I stare ahead of me, watching the road unfold in the pool of my headlights.
Somebody’s brights glint in the rearview mirror.
“Great.”
“What?” Macy turns to try to see behind us.
“Just some Mater from the Land of Tater trying to crawl up my ass.” I give the Yukon a little gas.
“It’s a truck.” Macy sounds worried. The truck’s right on me now. “Just pull over for him. He’s probably drunk. Fourth of July brings out the aggro drunk rednecks.”
I pull to the side, and the truck pulls to the left as if to pass us.
But when it’s even with us, instead of cruising by, it holds steady, and begins to edge closer to us.
And I get a better look at the truck.
“Troy.” Macy says it just as it registers with me, and I slam on the brakes, hard.
The truck shoots ahead, and our tires squeal as the Yukon shudders under the brakes.
“Oh my God!” Macy cries out, hoarse.
We’re stopped, but the truck ahead of us has stopped, too.
“He’s coming back. What’s he going to do?”
I pull the Yukon around and gun it, trying to put some distance between us and the psycho behind us. “I don’t know. Let’s get back to civilization. Call 911.”
Macy pulls her phone out of her purse. “No signal. It’ll come back in range when we’re closer to my apartment. You can drive straight through to town and City Hall. There’s hopefully at least one deputy on duty.” She turns around in her seat to check on the truck.
It’s coming up behind us.
“Troy? What the hell?” Macy yells, as if he could hear her. “Why is he chasing us”
I push the Yukon, and we stretch out the length of road between us and him. I check the rearview and feel a surge of adrenaline.
“We’re losing him.” I turn back to Macy.
She screams.
A huge, brown animal is on the hood.
I open my eyes and feel something wet all over my face. And I can hardly breathe. Someone forces the air out of my ribcage in short, quick huffs.
“Stop.” I force it out with the next push on my chest, force my eyes to focus in on the space above me.
“Jeremy? Hey, hey, Jeremy! Look at me, look right here!”
I blink hard and see Macy.
“Stop crushing my chest.” It hurts to talk. Sharp pain stabs at my face and head. I’m thirsty; my mouth’s parched.
“It’s CPR. You weren’t responsive.” She holds my hands, both of them together, and she strokes them. It feels nice.
“I’m responsive now. Talking is responding. Let me sit up, damn it.” I try.
She pushes on me again. “No! No, your neck might be hurt. Spinal cord and all that. Lie still.”
“Let me sit up a little. I’m gonna throw up if you don’t.” I can taste blood down the back of my throat.
She slides a hand around my back and gives me a nudge, pulling me up onto her lap.
“Where’s Troy?”
“Long gone. He got out, saw me crawl out of the car and got back in his truck and took off.” She pets my hair now.
“Macy?”
She leans forward, still petting me. “Yes? Stay awake for me. Help’s coming.”
“Stop petting me. I liked the hand-stroking, though. You can do that.”
She snorts. “Good lord. You’re going to be fine, aren’t you? And I’ll pet you if I want.” She leans over me and kisses my lips. “You’re a bloody mess.” She uses the hem of her sleeve to wipe my face. It comes away angry, wet crimson.
“I love you.” I see my blood on her hands, and all I want to do is hold her, never let her go.
“What?” She leans over me. I can
smell something sweet on her breath. Mint, maybe.
“I feel like I’m going to pass out. I want you to know I love you in case I die.”
“For crying out loud, Jeremy.” She kisses me again. “You’re not going to die. I already saved your life.”
“I like it when you call me by my first name. That’s new.” My head spins again, and I close my eyes, concentrate on the feel of her hands on my hands.
There’s nothing wrong with contemplating mortality, I guess.
I don’t want to go right now, obviously. I’d kind of like to have a chance to make peace and get my affairs in order.
I guess the best policy on that is to always be squared up. I mean, that the people who love you know that you love them, every day.
That you don’t bitch and crab at somebody, and then you die and leave it all unsaid.
What is the whole point anyway?
I try to concentrate, and I feel cold, but I see the river, see Macy, see the moose crossing the river on that first evening, making ripples in the lilac night.
Maybe that’s what this is all about. My mortality, not Macy’s, mine. I’ve been so wrapped up in her life. But what about my life? It’s my life. How do I want to live it? I’m afraid of a scary accidental death because I want to make sure when I go I’ve gotten it all said, gotten it all done.
What is it that I need to get done?
“Jeremy, open your eyes. Jeremy, they’re here. The ambulance is here.”
“You didn’t say anything.” I open my eyes.
“What?” She looks like she’s crying. Her eyes look wet.
“You didn’t say you love me back.” I keep my eyes on her face even though the black night behind her spins a bit.
“What? Are we really?—Jeremy, I love you. Okay? I love you, of course I love you. And I hate you for living in LA and wanting me to live there, and I love you for trying to help, and I hate you for running into that stupid elk.”
“He ran into me.”
“It was a cow. A she.”
“Of course it was a female.” I try to reach up, touch her face.
“Nobody likes a chauvinist jerk, even when you’re all bloody and hurt. Stop, just rest.” She holds my hand in hers.
“Thanks for not petting me. Stay with me.” I look at her, and everything gets very still.
“Always.” She bends down and kisses me, briefly, and I can tell someone else is there because she lets go of my hand and whoever takes it has the hands of a longshoreman.
Use Somebody Page 21