Paradise by the Dashboard Light

by Kathryn R. Biel

  The day passes quickly, except for the hour of torture in physical therapy. It's not truly torture, but I've already developed compensations that are going to be hard habits to break.

  Not to mention the stairs suck. By the end of eight stairs, my knee is screaming and begging me to stop. There's no way I can get up to my apartment. My PT, Jean, is optimistic that within a week or two I should be back home.

  I'm not sure if that's good news or bad news. This could be great with Rio, or it could be bad, especially if I keep putting my foot in my mouth like I did this morning. She probably understands. I've always been pretty direct and straightforward, but sometimes my intentions aren't clearly understood. I can be blunt which may make me sound like a jerk from time to time. I'm sure Trisha would agree, as she's glaring at me from across the auditorium.

  Yeah, I'm going to have to have a talk with Beth about everything. I don't need her blabbing to Trisha about all the details of my life. It's none of Trisha's business who I'm seeing, at least not until I know what's going on.

  If you had asked me a week ago where my life was heading, I could have told you down to the hour. Now, since running into Rio again, my life has turned upside down. I only hope she treats me better than her sister did, and that all of this is worth it.

  Chapter 20

  Rio

  You know, the morning after your world's been thoroughly rocked, you're supposed to be in a better mood.

  And you're wearing that?

  What did he mean? Why did he say that? He'd just told me I looked nice. It was only after I told him I'd be meeting with clients. I know that polka dots aren't the most refined, but I work in advertising. A bit of whimsy and creativity works in my field. Especially when I'm pitching to Seretia Masterson.

  Yes, that Seretia, of Skin by Seretia. Her skin care line has blown up since a red carpet mention by an actress who went home with a golden man later on that night. And today three of us are pitching to her to see which marketing campaign she wants for her new national line, as well as her flagship store going in on Newbury Street. When Ted invited me to pitch, I don't think he saw me landing the Caparazzo account. Otherwise I'm guessing I wouldn't have been offered two huge opportunities in one week.

  Of all the weeks to be so distracted.

  And you're wearing that?

  What a way to ruin my day. Leave it to Ian to build me up only to knock the ladder out from under me. But let's face it, with him, best case scenario is standing on stilts on the sand. And not just regular sand. Quicksand. Or even worse, lightning sand. You know, from The Princess Bride, and there are rodents of unusual size coming after me as well.

  Stupid Ian McCallister. He's been breaking my heart since our first day of kindergarten when he held Rainne's hand walking in, leaving me to escort Evan. Last night, I accomplished what I set out to do. I'm not supposed to regret it. And I don't—mostly—but how can this possibly end well? There won't be a happily ever after for us. I thought the afterglow would last more than a few hours though.

  Why does he have to be such a moron?

  Why do I have to care?

  Why can't it just be black and white?

  See? It's already complicated.

  And then it happens—that thing that pisses me off the most. I start crying over Ian McCallister. Except this time, I'm not in my bedroom, buried under a thick comforter and wailing into my pillow. I'm not even anonymously walking through the streets of Boston, easily ignored. I'm in the bathroom at work and the site of my formerly-cute blouse in the mirror triggers this jag. And the more I try to hold back the tears, the more they threaten, storming the gates of my eyelids and winning without difficulty.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  And then the toilet flushes. I didn't even bother to check before I started falling apart. Please don't let it be Marissa. Please don't let it be Marissa. I can handle anyone but her. But I doubt some higher power is listening, despite how many times I'd called his name last night.

  "Girl, I don't know what the problem is, but it can't be all that bad."

  I truly am cursed. I smile weakly at Seretia Masterson as she washes her hands. "Well, this certainly isn't my finest moment. I wish I could say that I'd just received some truly terrible news, but I don't make it a habit of lying. I'm simply kicking myself for being stupid over a boy."

  I can't believe I admitted that. I mean, the job is already gone. No one in their right mind would hire a sobbing mess. What else do I have to lose?

  "We've all been there. Someone you work with?"

  "Oh good God, no. As unprofessional as I'm sure I seem right now, I keep my work and personal lives separate. It's someone I've known since I was little. My first crush, actually."

  "Oh, that's so sweet." Seretia smiles at me, casually tossing her long braids over her shoulder. She turns to head to the door. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid now.

  "Ms. Masterson? Um, well, I'll be pitching to you in about ten minutes. I'm sorry you saw me like this, and I understand if your mind is already made up. I would hope that if you find me unsuitable to work with, you won't let it reflect negatively on the others who are presenting. There is a wealth of talent here at Menley Brothers, and hardly any of the others cry in the bathroom."

  "Do you have some ideas to show me?"

  I nod, unsure of what to say next. Hastily I swipe at my eyes, hoping to catch any runaway mascara.

  "No time like the present. I don't want to spend all day in boring meetings. I hate sitting there. Why don't you take me to your office so we can chat some more and you can tell me about this stupid boy?"

  "I can lead you to my cubicle, and unfortunately, he's all man."

  "But stupid?"

  "Obviously. He made me cry." I smile at her and lead her down to my space. She pulls up the chair that Cailynn (God bless her!) rolls over and looks thoughtfully at the presentation I've put together. I don't say a word as Seretia clicks through image after image, occasionally tilting her head one way or another.

  The silence makes me uneasy, but I know I need to be patient. I learned that from watching Mr. Menley my first year. Badgering her for her opinion or firing useless fact after useless fact at her won't help. I truly believe either an image connects with you or it doesn't.

  "Oh, there you are." Marissa stomps up. I didn't know it was possible to walk like a linebacker in stilettos and a mini skirt, but Marissa has it perfected. "Seretia, you're due in the conference room. I'm not sure why she is showing you her material right now. We have a presentation put together, in the order we'd like you to see it."

  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out my stuff is buried in the middle where no one will pay attention.

  Seretia stiffens her back. "I'll be in after I finish here. I asked …" she trails off and I realize I never even told her my name.

  "Rio," I supply.

  "I wanted to see Rio's work. She has a policy of honesty—and respect—that I admire. Plus, I really like her outfit. I want someone as put together as Rio to design my marketing. So thank you. We don't need you right now."

  Seretia not only deftly dismisses Marissa, but she likes my outfit.

  Take that, Ian McCallister, and shove it.

  

  Ian

  I hadn't really thought this through. Pete had driven me to the hospital this morning, but after a full day of Grand Rounds, lecture, PT, and suture removal, I'm on my own to get home. Well, back to Rio's. And while, in theory, I'd be up for a repeat of last night, in actuality, I'm wiped out. I hope she doesn't mind. All I want to do is put ice on my knee and sleep.

  Getting off the T at Science Park, I head toward the elevator. I hope this isn't one that serves as a bathroom for the local homeless, like in the Park Street Station. I never realized how sketchy the elevators in and out of the T stations are. If Evan had been out here to visit me, I would have realized sooner. Even though he can walk, it's not the most energy efficient for him, so we encourage him to use accessi
ble options. He doesn't like to though, because he has always wanted to be just like me. Plus some of the T stations, like the one for Mass General, have escalators that only run in one direction. What good is going up when you can't get down to the T in the first place?

  Seems now the table's turned a bit. I'll have to tell him what I noticed. And maybe write a letter to the MBTA as well. While things are technically handicap accessible, the accessibility requires a lot more effort. It reminds me of the whole separate but equal movement that's nowhere near equal. By the time I walk the remaining blocks home, I'm ready to collapse.

  Despite the length of time the commute home has taken, I'm still the first one in. I barely make it through the door before I dive for the couch. I'll rest here for a minute or two, and then I'll get up to see what to do about dinner. That will be nice and romantic to have something ready when Rio walks in.

  The next thing I know, the front door is slamming shut.

  "Oh, you're here." Her voice is flat. Certainly not what I'd expected after last night.

  My fatigue disappears as I drink in the sight of her. God, I don't know how I've been living without her all this time. "Sorry, I fell asleep again. Someone kept me up past my bedtime." I smile at her as I sit up.

  "Yeah, well you won't have to worry about that tonight."

  Oh, shit. "Rio, what's wrong?"

  She stops and looks at me. Even if her hands weren't on her hips, I'd be able to read the anger in her face. "You almost ruined everything for me. I can't believe I let you do that."

  I have no idea what she's talking about, which is what I tell her.

  "And you're wearing that?" she spits at me.

  Okay, now I'm totally lost. I'm wearing scrubs. Normally I change before coming home from the hospital, but since I didn't contaminate them by seeing patients, I left them on. They're quite comfy. I look down at them. "I had to for Grand Rounds. I mean, I guess I didn't have to, but it's what I always wear. Why?"

  She throws her hands up and screams. "No you dolt. That's what you said to me this morning, right before I left. And you're wearing that? Do you know how that made me feel? I cried at work. You made me cry. I don't cry over people anymore. I don't let them have that power over me. But no, I let you in and you go right for the jugular."

  Oops.

  My bad.

  That was so not what I meant. And what was that she said?

  "Did you call me a dolt?"

  "Yes, I did. You're an idiot. An eejit. A moron. How could you say something so stupid?"

  I look at her for a moment, realizing once again I should not say the first thing that pops into my head. Her blouse is untucked and has lost some of its crispness from this morning. I don't see the sweater anywhere. A few hairs have sprung loose from her braid and there's a general fuzziness to her hair. Her eyes betray her tears. That and a weariness that comes from her anger. "You looked like mint chocolate chip ice cream, and I didn't want everyone at work to think about licking you all day."

  Rio blinks and shakes her head. "What?"

  "It's not fair to expose everyone you work with to that kind of sex appeal."

  She looks down at her outfit and then back at me, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

  "You looked mouthwatering this morning. I'm surprised all the men, and probably even the women, at your work didn't fall at your feet."

  She looks down again and then back at me. "Seriously? That's what you meant? That's what has had me in knots all day? I want to hit you right now."

  I move to stand up, slow and awkward with my stiff knee. "Please don't. I'm wounded." A few steps and I reach her. Pulling her into me feels so right. Her body melts into mine as I kiss the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Rio. I didn't mean to upset you. I really didn't. I didn't want anyone thinking the thoughts about you that I was this morning."

  "You don't have to worry about that." Her voice is muffled in my chest.

  "Why? Do you only work with gay men?"

  Rio pulls back and looks at me. "What? Why would you say that? I have no idea what you're talking about."

  I sigh. "Is it so hard to believe that you're sexy?"

  "This is not my sexy look. I don't do sexy."

  I smile. "I beg to differ. No one who 'doesn't do sexy' owns leather pants." My hand drifts down to caress the swell of her backside. I wish I'd been able to do this while she was wearing those pants. I'll get her back in them someday, just so I can get her out again.

  Rio steps backward, breaking the contact. "Let me re-phrase. I don't do sexy at work. Never. I do conservative, professional, perhaps a bit whimsical, but not sexy. You should know me better. I'm not like that. And if you think I am, you need to go back to the other twin."

  "Whoa there!" My hands fly up in defense against the barrage of words. "You know that's not what I meant. I … I … well, you could be wearing a bag, and I'd think you look good enough to eat."

  She sinks down on the couch. Tentatively, I sit next to her.

  "There's this girl at work, Marissa. Well, I guess she's a woman. All woman. I know this because her woman-ness is always popping out of her shirts and skirts and frequently ramming its tongue down our supervisor's throat."

  "I'm getting a mental image. Go on."

  "Ted—my supervisor—keeps trying to take my projects and have Marissa present them. He says she has seniority on me. She does, by about two weeks in longevity, but definitely not in productivity. But she's one of those women so I don't stand a chance, no matter how hard I work."

  "I'm sort of following but so there's no more misunderstanding, can you tell me what you mean by those women?"

  "You know." She shrugs. "Of course you know. Rainne is one of those women. She led you around by your dick for years, using you to get what she wanted. Think of the all shit you used to buy her. How many times you took her out to eat after a football game. Marissa is the same way. If she spent half of the effort she puts into manipulating people actually doing her job, she’d probably be fairly competent. But she doesn't want to try. And she's quite content to bulldoze anyone standing in her way."

  I nod. Something's been bothering me about how she talks about her sister. "Other than the normal sister bickering, I always thought you and Rainne got along. You two were thick as thieves."

  "We were until we weren't. We had to stick together, and I thought we could only depend on each other. We weren't identical, but close enough, you know? We both hated the shit Mom pulled, but then Rainne started doing the same thing. She's even better at manipulating than Mom is. I should know. I was her primary target for the longest time." Sadness ebbs through her voice, causing it to break slightly.

  "And then ... she asked too much of me, and I realized I couldn't be a part of it anymore. They both expected me to come back and help. I haven't—and won't—because they'll never learn to help themselves if I'm there, providing for them. But on the other hand, I don't know that they can help themselves, and I feel guilty for not being there for them. They are my family. I'm a horrible person because if it weren't for the guilt, I wouldn't want anything to do with them."

  It's always been clear as day that Sierra wasn't the type of mom who made cookies and put her kids first. She wasn't like my mom at all. I can't imagine what's it's like to not want to be with your family, especially your twin. "I thought you and Rainne had an unbreakable bond."

  "Didn't I teach you anything about chemistry? Bonds only work when equal forces are applied on either side. When they are unbalanced, they break. Nothing with Rainne is ever equal. She takes and pulls and yanks until you can't hold on anymore. I couldn't hold on, not when she was breaking your heart." Rio looks down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "Which is why we probably shouldn't do this either. I can't willingly and knowingly break your heart. It means too much to me. It always has." Her voice trails off in a whisper.

  I reach over and pull her onto my lap. "Rio, you can't mean that. That you don’t want to try. I don't want a relationship—
or at least didn't until you. It's the worst possible timing. But even I'm not stupid enough to throw something like this away. No, the timing isn't great, and I probably can't give you what you truly deserve right now, but won't you wait for me? We'll figure it out. I promise. This—this is worth the work."

  She looks at me, those gorgeous eyes dark with emotion. "You say that now. But … maybe I'm not."

  I take her face in my hands so she has no choice but to hear me when I say it. "Rio, you're worth it."

  Chapter 21

  Rio

  He's holding my face, but I don't think I could tear myself away even if I wanted to. And I don't want to. Even though I don't deserve him, this is all I've ever wanted. I have to tell him about that night in the car. That it wasn't Rainne. Before this can go any further, he needs to know. I mean, telling him may just kill me, but I have to do it.

  I take a deep breath, trying to gather every ounce of courage I've ever possessed. "Ian, I …"

  The door flies open and Beth's voice slams through. "And then, he said—" She stops dead, Mel slamming into her back. "Oh, sorry, are we interrupting? Too bad."

  Mel peeks around Beth. "What do we have going on here? I thought you were out sick, Ian. You don't look sick."

  "You know I had surgery. And we're sort of busy here." Ian doesn't break my gaze, even though he's obviously addressing Beth and Mel.

  I notice Pete slide in behind Mel and head into the kitchen. He's carrying a box of Sam Adams. Beth replies, "Well, now we're entertaining. Pete, can you bring me one of those beers?"

  As subtly as I can, I slide off Ian's lap and onto the couch. I take a moment to re-group. Just when I get up the nerve to tell him …

  "So, Rio. You and Ian?" Mel looks expectantly back and forth between us. I'm not sure how this is all going to go down. I don't know if I'd be happy to see the guy who dumped my friend moving on within a span of days.