by Tasha Ivey
“That’s brutal.”
“It was.” I reach out and take her hand. “Sorry I wasn’t much help.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how awful you felt.” She squeezes my fingers.
“I didn’t either, really. It came on pretty quickly. Wes said I looked green, so he made me come inside. Before I could get upstairs, I had to race to the bathroom to throw up. God, I’m mortified.”
“He told me all about it before he left. He was more worried about you than anything, so you shouldn’t be embarrassed.”
“He left?” Why am I so disappointed?
“He said he had to get home because he has to work tomorrow. I think he’s not feeling too well, himself. He was acting kinda strange. Speaking of getting home, I let you sleep way too long. We have to hit the road, too. We have a ton of laundry to do tonight, and I have a paper I need to work on tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
After loading up the car and saying our goodbyes to Shane, we head back home. I feel a little better, but not totally back to normal. Makenna stays mostly quiet; I think she’s trying really hard to let me rest. And I almost think she’s going to make it the whole trip without bringing Wes up, but I should’ve known better than that. Makenna doesn’t let anything go. Ever.
“So . . .” She begins, turning the radio all the way down. “When are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
Her deep sigh tells me that evading isn’t going to be possible. “You know exactly what I’m talking about Callie. You’ve been acting really weird, so I need to know what’s going on.”
“Nothing, Mak. Absolutely nothing. I get how it looked . . . I really do. But I promise you, we’re only friends. We even talked about it.”
She flings her hair over her shoulder like she always does when she’s restless. “Why would the two of you even need to discuss it? Something happened. What was it?”
“I don’t exactly know.” I’m drumming my fingers on my legs. I hate her inquisitions almost as much as she hates mine.
“Callie.”
“What? I mean, I told you he was a jerk to me yesterday, and I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him. But he kept showing up, kept apologizing for being rude. I felt sorry for him once you told me about his mother—who he refused to talk to me about, by the way. Then when the party started, I met his friend Jake, and Wes got all weird and territorial, telling Jake that I was off-limits.”
She points at me. “Which totally pissed you off.” I love that she gets me. I go on to explain how I talked to Jake again to try to get back at Wes, only to end up kicking Jake’s ass in the backyard. She goes off on a little rant about Jake, but I have to pull back the reins a little to keep her on the subject of Wes. I could’ve let her keep going, but for some weird reason, I want to talk about him. I want her opinion of him and if I should be friends with him.
“So next thing I know, he’s pulling his clothes off and getting in the hot tub with me.”
It’s getting dark in the car, but I can still see her jaw drop. “You mean . . . naked?”
“No. Well, close enough, I guess. He was wearing boxer briefs. And, yes, I checked him out. Not bad at all.”
“Hold that thought.” She whips the car into a gas station. “We need coffee for this.”
I gawk at her and point to the coffeehouse across the street. “Let’s go over there. I’m not getting coffee at a gas station again. It’s like mud, and they have that disgusting powdered creamer that won’t ever dissolve. Do you think I’m some kind of barbarian?”
She scowls. “Fine. But you’re buying.” She pulls into the other lot and gets out of the car.
“What are you doing? There’s a drive-thru.”
“Yeah, like I can drive with you telling a story like this.” She shifts back and forth on her feet impatiently. “Come inside. We’ll drink while we talk and then drive the rest of the way.”
We place our orders and sink into a cozy booth away from the other patrons. It’s not a bad looking joint. Typical coffeehouse, I guess. Dim lighting, lots of different seating options, emo rock playing in the background, the nutty scent of espresso. And of course, the experience wouldn’t be complete unless you have a cute waitress with chunky blue highlights in her hair and a lip piercing. I wish this place was a little closer to home.
The feeling of Makenna’s gaze boring into my forehead pulls me from my observations. It won’t take long for her to bring it back up. I know her too well.
Three.
Two.
One.
“So . . . keep talking!”
Nailed it. “Okay, where was I? Uh, we talked a while, shared a sandwich, and drank way too much whiskey. I made him make a birthday wish, and he proceeded to show me what the wish was.”
“What was it?” Bless her little naïve heart.
“He kissed me.”
She smacks both palms down onto the table, just as our coffee is served by our very unsuspecting waitress. Poor thing just about flings scalding coffee all over herself. After muttering an apology, Makenna turns back to me. “Wesley Baxter kissed you. On the mouth. And it wasn’t part of some stupid joke. Why am I just now hearing about this?”
I hold my hands up. “I know, I know. But really, it’s not a big deal. We made out for a bit, and that’s all I remember. He told me this morning that he carried me up to bed after I passed out on him.”
“Holy shit.” She seems stunned as she sips her coffee.
Might as well get it all over with right now. If he tells Shane, she’ll probably hear about it from him and get all pissy. “That’s not all, though. We also saw each other naked this morning.”
She sets her mug on the table so hard that it sloshes over the side. “Nuh-uh. You didn’t.” Wide eyed, she lowers her voice and leans across the table a bit. “You had sex?”
“Oh, nothing like that. I was feeling pretty rough when I woke up, so I showered without realizing the door into his room was open. He admitted that he was awake the entire time. Saw it all. I guess, to make me feel better, he got up out of bed totally naked and walked into his closet to get dressed. I also saw it all. Tit for tat. Literally. So I guess, by the time we came downstairs this morning, we were quite comfortable with each other, making it fairly easy to put on a good show for you and Shane. End of story.”
Because I can’t get anything past her, I also have to tell her the “we’re just friends” part, and she corroborated his story. Shane had mentioned before that he’s quite anti-relationship. I’m floored when I find out that he got married when he was eighteen. He got his girlfriend pregnant, so the obvious responsible next step was to run into the next town to elope. She lost the baby just before she was three months along, and the marriage ended before their first anniversary. She was cheating on him with her old boyfriend.
Now, apparently, he’s very upfront about it. If he does venture into a relationship, and it takes a serious turn, he’s out. Done. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to get hurt. I can’t fault him for that. Hell, I want the same thing. No feelings. No strings or attachments. No one to answer to. Simple and uncomplicated is good.
I glance down at my watch. “Let’s get out of here. I should be done shocking you, and we have a mountain of laundry calling our names. Besides that, I can’t wait to get in bed and sleep off this wicked hangover.”
“DO YOU KNOW where Wes works?” Makenna calls out from the bathroom as soon as I walk into our dorm. I set my bag down and lean against the door jamb, watching her mouth twist unnaturally while she brushes mascara onto her pale lashes. This is the first time I’ve heard his name since the night we left their parents’ house, and that was three weeks ago, so her question catches me off-guard a little bit.
“Umm, no, I don’t think he ever mentioned it. Why?”
She leans out the door and points to a manila envelope on her bed. “Shane is at his parents’ house for a couple days, so he as
ked if I could drop that envelope by to Wes this week, since he works here in Tuscaloosa. They won’t see each other until the weekend, and there’s some tax papers in there that Wes needs by tomorrow. I didn’t think to ask where he works. No worries, though. I’ll call Shane and find out.”
“I didn’t realize he works around here.”
“Yeah,” she drawls out while smearing lipstick on her top lip. “Lives about half an hour from here, too, so he’s about halfway between here and their parents’ house. Shane has taken me over there a few times.”
I nod and turn into my room to pull my books out of my bag. I’ll be so glad when this semester is over. My professors must think that we don’t have any other classes because they’re all assigning massive amounts of homework this week. Thank God there’s only about a month left before summer.
“So you want to come with?” Makenna waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Where?”
She slaps my shoulder. “Duh. To wherever Wes works.”
“I have a shitload of homework, Mak,” I complain, waving my hands over the books and binders sprawled out on my bed. “And it’s all due by Friday, so I only have tonight and tomorrow. Just tell him I said hello.”
“Come on. We’ll just drop it by there real quick and then grab some dinner. You have to eat, you know. Then, you can come back and hit the books. Please? You know I don’t like going to strange places alone.”
“And you know I don’t like to stay home alone, but in this case, it’s a necessity. I don’t know how I’ll ever get all of this done.”
She sits on the corner of my bed on my fuzzy brown comforter and pokes her bottom lip out, batting her infamous puppy dog eyes.
“You’re annoying. You know that? Fine. I’ll go. Just let me change.”
She bounces her butt on the bed and claps as I flick on the closet light. “You look fine though. Why are you changing, huh? Are you planning on smooching Wes again?” She makes kissy noises.
“Jeez, Makenna.” I yank my shirt off and throw it at her. “I swear, if I had a kid sister, I’m positive this is what it would be like. I spilled my tea on my shirt at lunch, so I’d like to look remotely clean in public, if that’s okay with you.”
“Uh huh, perfectly okay. But you might want to put on some lip gloss, too, so the public will think your lips are kissable. Just throwing that out there.”
I button my jeans and cram my feet into my favorite Chucks, smirking when I realize I just put on a band t-shirt. “I think my lips are pretty damn kissable right now. Wanna see?”
“Don’t you dare,” she cackles, scooting further onto my bed as I stalk closer. “I don’t know where your lips have been!”
She squeals when I bounce onto the bed, holding her down until I can manage to blow a raspberry on one of her cheeks. “See?” I let her go but still sit on her stomach. “I’m irresistible.”
“Irresistibly disgusting,” she says, wiping her wet cheek.
She doesn’t say a word when I end up going into the bathroom to brush my hair and put on a little makeup, though. I know she’s thinking it, but she stays quiet. She does, however, smirk at me when she sees the nude sheen of gloss on my lips.
“Shut up, Makenna.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Before we can make the long trek to our parking lot, she’s already called Shane to find out where Wes works and get directions. I get into her car, but she stays outside while she’s on the phone. I can imagine she and Shane are having a sickeningly sweet conversation about how much they miss each other and blah, blah, blah. I’m happy for them, but damn it, I just don’t get how they can always get along. It’s too eerily perfect. Me? I like a little more drama. A little fight now and then to keep things interesting. To keep the sex interesting.
To each their own, I suppose.
Speaking of drama, I lean back onto the head rest and think of Wes. Talk about intense. I’ll bet make-up sex with him is mind blowing. Um, no, I’m not going there. What I really meant to say was that I wonder where he works. Yeah, exactly what I meant. Imagining him in his low-slung jeans and tight black t-shirt, I can see him working as a bartender or maybe even a waiter in a kitschy kind of cafe. I’m sure the man could make an obscene amount of tips.
Makenna finally joins me, sinking into her seat with an intense red flush on her cheeks.
“Please tell me you didn’t just have phone sex with your boyfriend?”
“I didn’t!” She slaps at me after turning the key in the ignition.
“What’s with the blush, Makenna Madison?”
“Shane loves me,” she sighs. “He wanted to tell me in person, but he couldn’t wait until the weekend. He’s never told me that before.”
See? Sickening. “Uh, it’s about time he says it. It’s only been a year since you met him. But any fool could see it. Did you tell him back?”
“Yes.” She fans herself. “He told me from the beginning that he only wanted to say those words to the woman he knew he’d be with the rest of his life. You know what that means, right? In a roundabout way, he’s telling me he wants to marry me. God, I’m going to cry.”
“If you do, I’m going to throw up.”
She punches my arm. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, do you? But that’s okay . . . when the right person comes along, I’m sure you’ll be grossing me out.”
“Doubtful, but that’s enough of that. Where are we headed?”
“Can’t remember the name of the place now,” she says, shrugging. “But I have an address.”
It takes us nearly thirty minutes to get across town in all the traffic, something that’s always a problem here, but it thins a little once we make it to the other side of downtown. I never tire of looking at the worn, old buildings, imagining what the city looked like when they were first built so many years ago. Now, though, they may not be beautiful in any sense of the word, but they lend so much character and simplicity to an otherwise obtrusive, bustling city.
“Ah, there it is.” Makenna’s voice croons delicately as she flips the lever for her blinker.
I look at the massive structure before me, and I can’t help wondering if she got the address wrong. “Are you sure?”
She taps her thin finger to the ripped receipt she has the address written on. “This is what Shane gave me. Oh!” She points to the sign towering over the expertly manicured landscaping. “Yeah, that’s the name. Fields and Lehman Analytics.”
Okay, then. Maybe he’s their groundskeeper or a maintenance man or something. I follow her up to the front doors, quietly observing the modern beauty of the building. Nothing like the aged brick buildings downtown, it has about six stories, completely wrapped in tinted glass and gleaming metal. Its bold, sharp lines are aesthetically pleasing. It reminds me of something you’d see in one of those futuristic action movies. Let’s just hope it isn’t full of robots.
Makenna holds the solid glass door open for me, and I follow her up to the reception desk, where she asks for directions. “I’m looking for Wesley Baxter’s office. Can you point me in the right direction?”
The stiff woman at the desk looks quite displeased. Or constipated. Fiber, lady. It works wonders. “Is Mr. Baxter expecting you?”
Mr. Baxter? Oh, this is hilarious.
“Yes, I believe so.” Makenna practically shrinks under her scrutinizing, accusatory gaze.
“One moment,” she snaps impatiently. She picks up the phone and punches a few buttons. Her hair is pulled impossibly tight into a neat bun on the top of her head. Yeah, that might be the source of the bitchiness, too. “Sandra. I have a couple of . . . ladies here, claiming to have an appointment with Mr. Baxter. Can you confirm?”
I roll my eyes. Damn, if I don’t hate pretentious people.
“I see. I’ll send them up.” She cuts her eyes back to us and points to the bank of elevators at her side. “Fifth floor. Check in with reception there.”
Finally, curiosity gets the better of me. “W
hat the hell does he do?” I ask when the elevator door closes.
“I’ve never discussed it with him in detail, but I guess the general idea applies to all of them.”
“Which is?”
She scrunches up her face, looking at me like I’ve completely lost it. “Uh, money.”
The ding sounds just before the shiny metal doors slide open. This lobby looks much like the one on the first floor, just on a smaller scale. But the receptionist actually stands when we exit, walking around her desk and extending her hand with a warm smile. I’m guessing she’s around my mom’s age. Her short, dark hair is styled into big curls, and even though she’s dressed in a fitted pencil skirt and sky-high heels, she looks at us as if we’re equals.
“Welcome to Fields and Lehman, ladies.” She shakes both of our hands enthusiastically. “If you’d have a seat right over there in the waiting area, Mr. Baxter will be with you in just a moment. Can I get you a drink while you wait? Water, tea, coffee, soda . . . we have whatever you would like.”
“No need, Sandra. I’m here.” That dark voice sounds from behind her. “Thank you.”
She nods with a soft smile and steps away. No, she fades away, as well as everything else in the room. All I see is him, or at least I think it’s him. Sure, his face is the same, minus the sexy stubble I remember. But from the neck down, he’s not the tall, moody stranger in worn jeans anymore. He emanates power. Control. His charcoal suit is crisp and perfectly tailored to his lean frame. His bright blue tie is the same color as his eyes. He looks older somehow. More mature.
“Makenna. Callie. Good to see you.” His greeting is stiff and formal. Weird. “Why don’t you come into my office for a minute?” He turns to the receptionist, who stands as he addresses her. Again, weird. “Sandra, please hold my calls.”
“Yes, sir,” she answers respectfully.
We follow him down a long corridor into a corner office. It’s freaking huge. A modern gray couch with lemon yellow pillows sits against the wall, and two matching chairs face his desk, which is a gleaming structure of metal and glass topped with a computer monitor the size of a flat screen TV. On the other side of the room, four televisions cover the majority of the wall space, each displaying various news channels and stock data. But two of the four walls in the room are nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows, lending a very open and sleek quality to the room.