Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  I round the bend into the lobby right as Trey enters the front foyer with his eyes set on the apartment buzzers. “Trey,” I call out his name to save him the trouble. He spins on the tile floor and smiles when he sees me. “I have to drop this off.”

  He closes the distance between us and takes the bag from my hand. “Let me.”

  Before I protest he shoots out the side door and is back before I get more than two steps. I’m not sure if he just opened the door and threw it in the alley or if he actually made it in the dumpster, but I don’t question him.

  “Are you parked out front?” I ask as we walk to the main door and out to the street.

  Trey turns to our left and heads toward the bay. “No, I thought we’d walk.”

  It’s barely past six, but the sky is already dark this late in November. The lights from shops as we pass by create shadows on Trey’s face casting him in different silhouettes. The street lights illuminate the small puddles from this afternoon's quick rain shower and I work to step over any water in our path. I don’t agree with it, but my body inches closer to his as we continue to walk. His jeans are looser than the khakis I’ve seen him in before. His thicker royal blue fleece hides the shirt underneath, but I suspect he changed after work. Trey doesn’t feel like the jeans-to-work kind of guy, even if it is a gaming company.

  We walk a block in silence. Trey’s steps slow and we cross one last intersection before he pulls us to a stop on the other side of the Fairfield hotel. If I hadn’t been so impressed with the spacious hotel the first time I was here with my old boss Roger, I might not recognize it from this side angle.

  A multi-faced golden statue sits next to a red velvet rope and a hostess stands in front of a rock wall. Above it all the word Tonga brightens the area in neon lights. I stand by the large “Please wait to be seated” sign as Trey checks in our reservation with the hostess. I have no idea where we are, but it’s an interesting setup for sure.

  The blonde hostess walks to the large wooden double doors in front of me and pulls them open leading us through. “Welcome to the Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar.”

  My eyes fall from her tall willowy frame to the area behind her once the doors are open completely. Polynesian, the first word to jump to the front of my mind for how the restaurant is decorated. As we walk to the table, I look around the square room full of bamboo-made tables placed underneath small thatched roofs made from large dried leaves.

  A flat boat with instruments for a band floats on a large rectangular pool smack dab in the middle of the room. The boat sways as the musicians on stage play a soft melody I can’t quite pick up. We stop at a table separated from the water by a small bamboo rail and I wait while Trey pulls out my chair. He hasn’t spoken, but I also haven’t missed him watching my reactions to the place. It’s not until his hand reaches out toward the water and comes back wet that I notice there’s a small rain storm being simulated on the edges of the pool.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  I might be in slight awe as I sit. “Like it? I love it.” I look over the railing and see rocks attached to the pool wall with large thick ropes.

  “I thought it would remind us of our first night at the tiki bar.”

  I remove my eyes from the water and gauge his face. “You mean our first meeting?” I reference the almost neutering I gave him. “Or the more enjoyable second meeting?"

  He laughs. “Both.”

  The waitress takes our drink order and I use her distraction as a chance to open my menu. While every action from this gorgeous faced man is calm and maybe a little calculated, I’m a mess. I might be tall, but his presence alone engulfs my space when he’s near. My nerves increased during our silent walk and now I can’t think of a single thing to say. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with Trey.

  “What are you going to order?” he asks from his side of the small square table.

  “Um, I don’t know.” I scan the menu again and try to read some of the selections this time. “Let me guess, you’re getting the steak?” I peek my face over the tall menu and smile at him.

  “Of course. You should try it.”

  “Okay.” I give in without any fight and cringe, thankful Marissa isn’t here to see how bad I am at making him work for it.

  Our table is small so our legs and knees are mushed up in the space between us. After a few more seconds of footsie, we settle into a comfortable position of his knee, my knee, his knee, my knee. It takes mere minutes before I realize there is way too much knee touching going on for me to remain unaware of it for the rest of the meal.

  Our waitress returns at the perfect time, right before I made a ridiculous comment about how warm Trey’s knee is against mine. I don’t even want to know how he’d respond.

  Trey takes my menu. “Give us an order of the sweet potato fries and two filet mignons.” He stops and turns his head to me. “Do you like mushrooms?"

  “You don’t know?” I cock my head and smile with faux innocence at him while blinking more times than I need to.

  He raises an eyebrow at my gesture but then turns back to the waitress. “I’m taking that as a yes, so two filet mignons with the sautéed mushrooms, please.”

  The waitress leaves and I fiddle with my water straw to fill the silence with movement not words. The band plays from their floating stage and the smell of cooked meat has me excited for this steak, even if I’m not ready to admit it yet.

  Trey looks up from where he’d been watching the band with me. “I hoped you’d like it, but there’s one detail the place is missing.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  He smirks. “Cat cups.”

  My smile increases as I remember the plastic cup still packed away in my kitchen box now in a corner of Aspen’s bedroom. He might not have kept his, but the fact he fondly remembers something from our time before San Francisco is encouraging.

  “No. They wouldn’t fit the décor here at all. This place is too high class. They’re dog people all the way.”

  “Dogs are classier than cats?”

  “Absolutely, one of those Italian grey hounds. Very regal.” I sip at my water with the straw on the side of my mouth.

  “I’m not sure an Italian grey hound can pull off tiki quite like a tabby can.”

  I laugh at his rebuttal and try to think of another option, but as Trey’s happy face falls into something stern, my nervous butterflies start up again.

  “The tiki bar isn’t the only reason I asked you to dinner tonight.”

  “Yeah?” I can’t form more words than the simple response.

  “I went home Wednesday night feeling horrible. I’d been so pissed at you for refusing to talk to me, but you were losing a job and burying your mother. It kind of makes all my issues a bit smaller in comparison, you know?”

  I go back to pulling my straw in and out of my drink so I’m not required to make eye contact. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel guilty." Now I feel really stupid about crying in front of him.

  “No, Simone.” He reaches across the table and stills my hand. “Don’t think that, but it helped me figure out a way we could solve a few of both our problems.” He stops and stares at me from across the table, but I remain silent.

  “You need a job and we need a receptionist.” He leans back in his chair. “I can’t afford to pay you as much as I imagine you made at Lowry’s, but it’d be more than you make waiting tables.”

  My mouth falls open a tad and I’m quick to close it. “You brought me here to offer me a job?”

  “Yes. It works out for both of us.”

  The anticipation I’d built up crashes taking my heart with it. Trey asked me here to give me a job. Why did I get my hopes up? And what exactly were they hopeful for? I shake my head a fraction. I’m such a moron. I want to face palm myself, but it will have to wait until I'm home.

  At least the question is answered. This was definitely a non-date. “You want me to be your receptionist?” I ask for clarification becau
se I’m a glutton for punishment. There's a small chance I’ve contracted a case of hearing distortion in the past five minutes.

  “Yes.” Trey stills and reads my face, possibly realizing for the first time I’m not having the reaction he expected.

  Our small waitress stops at our table with our food and Trey and I are silent as she unloads everything on the table. The atmosphere around us is heavy and she leaves in a hurry.

  “You don’t like the idea?” Trey asks as he unrolls his black napkin and places it in his lap.

  I hesitate in my answer while I begin to cut my steak. It does look delicious. The small round filet cut piece of meat has four large mushrooms placed on top and the entire tower is covered in some kind of dark sauce that pools on the plate. At least I’ll get a delicious meal out of this.

  I answer as he takes his first bite. “What happened to the old receptionist?” I remember Trey admitted he made her buy his mom a gift at one point in time, but he’s never mentioned her leaving.

  He sighs but continues chewing, “She was horrible. We’ve had three people since July and can’t keep a single one. Which is why you'd be perfect.”

  I’m still cautious in my responses. “I’d be the perfect receptionist?” I don’t have anything against the position and I’m sure Trey is right that it will pay more than Bonnie’s, but I’m skeptical as to why he thinks I’d be a good fit. I can’t quit Bonnie’s after three days, but this job could be useful too. I'll be working with Bonnie forever in order to pay off all the money I owe my old apartment complex.

  After eating one of the bright orange sweet potato fries from the bowl between us, he wipes his hands on the napkin and then returns it to his lap. “Yes, we know from your previous work you can multi-task, you’re good with people, keep calm under pressure, you've handled large sums of money. You’re perfect. I’m worried you’ll be too bored and I have no delusions you'll stay forever once you find something else, but any amount of time I can get you under our roof the better.”

  The whole implication that Trey brought me to this cute, but semi fancy restaurant to offer me not some kind of love declaration, but a job at his company boils up and I release all the emotions over it as a laugh. Trey stops eating to stare at me and my bizarre behavior, but I don’t stop. It’s kind of freeing. Now I know. Whatever Trey and I had is over, but this could be a new start. One as friends and maybe coworkers.

  I work to get control of myself before people start to look and begin to cut more of my steak. At least my nerves vanished. It will help me enjoy my meal without worrying there’s food in my teeth.

  “Can I think about it over the weekend and let you know?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Trey’s quick to respond and he relaxes probably happy with my answer. “The last girl quit a few days ago and I haven’t scheduled interviews yet. Interns are covering the area in shifts. They’re almost as bad as she was.”

  I use his mention of the interns to ask about how the company is doing and turn the conversation away from anything serious. Like feelings, cat cups, or why he doesn’t want me like I so desperately want him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Aspen’s fingers move over her phone screen as we ride in the backseat of Licorice, the black Escalade driven by Jake.

  “Mar and Amanda are going to meet us on the hill,” Aspen relays the information I assume she read from her text. “That's the best thing about them having to drive in. They always get there before us.”

  Her brown eyes brighten a little with the declaration as she shoves the cell phone in her back pocket. Jake takes a turn a little quicker than normal and I’m forced to grab on to the door handle to stop myself from sliding across the leather seat.

  “Drive slower, Jake. We don’t want to get there too early.” Aspen taps him on the shoulder in a playful gesture. She loops the long scarf around her neck and pulls on the end tightly. “Do you think it will snow this year?”

  I look out my side window curious to what prompted her question. Everything looks normal as people walk the streets in the same thin fleece jackets they’ve been wearing the last few weeks. “Has it ever snowed in San Francisco?” I ask. A place without snow is still hard for me to comprehend. I’ve never had a winter without it.

  Jake’s eyes find Aspen in the rearview mirror. “It’s happened before.” His small grin increases as we both watch Aspen’s eyes grow more and more worried.

  She zips up her thick winter coat and stuffs the scarf inside of it. “What temperature would that happen at?”

  “Snow?” I try my best not to laugh at the worry in her question. “Thirty-two degrees, but it’s like at least fifty degrees out there right now. So we’ll be okay, Aspen.” Jake lets out a snort at my words but is quick to cover it up.

  “It’s way too cold to be outside in this weather. I’d invite everyone to the apartment, but it’s against the stupid rules,” she references the list of outrageous things she’s agreed to when she signed her lease. “You're going to freeze,” her voice rises as she takes in my outfit for today.

  The dark green sweater and skinny jeans with tennis shoes should be fine, but I did pack the blue fleece I never gave back to Trey in case the temperature goes down. “I’m from upstate New York. This is spring or fall weather.”

  “Spring or fall?” her tone increases until she’s a little shrill and I start to worry.

  “Heck, some years this is summer weather.”

  Licorice comes to a stop and Aspen opens her door with a stiff back to brace against the cold. “Well not where I come from. You’re all crazy.” She steps to the sidewalk and waits for me to join her. “We’ll all catch pneumonia by being out here today.”

  We both wave to Jake as he drives away and I don’t comment on her irrational fears for the time being as we walk up the hill together. The morning fog has settled on the city and it’s not until I’m looking at it from this height that I realize how it’s one of my favorite aspects of living in San Francisco. Almost every morning a heavy cloud sits on top of the city making it feel a bit lazy compared to the hustle of New York. There’s a peaceful part to it all.

  “Oh my God, Aspen, it isn’t that bad.” Marissa’s comments about Aspen's winter coat carry the last few feet in front of us as we get closer to the spot where they’ve laid out the red plaid blanket for us to eat on.

  Marissa has her normally long brown hair in a tight bun and besides her jeans she’s in a fleece. She’s lacking a scarf or the thicker winter coat like Aspen’s wearing, so it can’t just be a southern California aversion to the colder weather since they both come from the same area.

  “The coat is cute,” the ever happy Amanda tries to compliment Aspen’s thick red winter jacket even though she’s only wearing a fleece as well.

  Aspen tugs on the zipper sealing the coat higher. “Thanks. Finn bought it for me. We had to drive to one of those sports stores in Oakland, but it was worth it.”

  I throw Trey’s fleece on the blanket and sit on one of the edges to await my sugary breakfast. I hesitated the first time Aspen forced me along for the weekend brunch meeting, but now being a part of these three feels second nature. At times I forget I haven’t been a part of this for years. The simple comradery shared between these ladies sucked me in. I haven’t had close friendships like this before. I didn’t realize I craved it until now.

  “So what’s on the agenda for this week?” Amanda hands me my bag of Tahiti French Toast, the one menu item we’ve ever order from Zazie’s brunch menu.

  “The same thing on every agenda. Boys.” Marissa grabs the white sack closest to her, aware that they all contain the exact same meal.

  “My boy’s great. He’s building me a castle. Which one is the hot chocolate?” Aspen gives an update as she’s poking around the beverage container for her drink.

  “A castle?” I ask. Sure, her boyfriend has money, like a lot of money, but castle money? It’s excessive for a guy that has always come off as laid back.

  Mari
ssa sighs and rolls her eyes. “In Dragons Reborn. The game he and Trey made. In case you weren’t already aware they’re both giant nerds, but Trey hides it better."

  “Finn’s turned Pen into a gamer and she’s a tad obsessed with it,” Amanda jumps in.

  “I am not obsessed.”

  This wins her another eye roll from Marissa. “Really? What type of tree did you spend two hours cutting down to make furniture with?”

  “Mahogany,” Aspen answers and then realizes she played into Marissa’s hand and tries to cover it up, but her huge smile gives more away. "It has a good coloring on the game graphics.”

  “Uh-huh.” Marissa sounds less than impressed.

  “Well did we all know Simone went on a date with Trey Friday night?” Aspen looks to me and mouths a sorry after she’s already thrown me under the bus.

  I can’t be mad at her for bringing up a sore topic. I haven’t told her how the night we thought was a date turned out to be very much a non-date.

  “Ugh.” I swallow a bite and give them a quick update about Trey’s job offer. “So it wasn’t a date but more of an interview. Except I already have the job so I interviewed him? Maybe? The whole thing is … too much.”

  “You should take it.”

  Marissa’s quick answer throws me off guard. It’s the last thing I’d expect her to agree with. “Why?”

  She’s fast to answer again. “Because men suck and if you get a job out of this one, I say take it. It beats waiting tables, right?”

  She has a point, but it also highlights other issues. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be weird to make Trey coffee every morning?"

  Let’s not even think about what I’d do if he brought a date around. He might have made it clear he doesn’t want to date me, but it doesn't mean I feel the same way. For some stupid reason. “And I can’t quit Bonnie’s after three shifts."