by Sandy Loyd
He cleared his throat and looked at James.
“Don’t look at Morrison. He’s never progressed past high school so he can’t help you.” She ignored James’ disgruntled, “Hey, careful with the verbal jabs,” and added, “You started this. How much time do you need? A month? Two months? A year?”
“A week or so,” Charles squeaked out. “I realize now it was a stupid idea.”
“No. Don’t back down now.” She kept her unwavering gaze on him. Eventually he glanced at the bar and studied her empty shot glass for too many seconds. She sighed. “If you need time to be sure of me, then take it. I certainly don’t want you rushing into something.” Oh no, she wouldn’t push him, but she wouldn’t let this go without giving it her best shot, either. A few weeks ought to do it. She was good at reinventing herself. If Charles wanted spontaneity, then she’d become as free spirited as a leaf blowing in the wind. “Now go away.”
“Go away?” he sputtered. “I can’t leave you in a bar. Come on. I’ll take you home.”
The bartender placed her third shot in front of her. She was starting to see double, but she had her pride. Sam wasn’t going anywhere with Charles tonight. She’d walk first. She picked up her drink. “I’m not ready to leave yet and I’m still too angry with you to let you stay, so go away.”
“Now who’s acting like an eighth grader?”
She shrugged and downed the contents, then slammed the glass on the bar. “Answer me this. Is an eighth grader sedate and settled?”
“What?” He pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. The lenses magnified his soulful brown eyes, exaggerating his stunned expression.
Unwilling to let that gaze affect her, she said, “Just answer the damn question.”
He cleared his throat. “I would think not.”
“Then it’s an improvement, isn’t it?” Oh yeah. This was just the beginning. He asked for it. He’d never know what hit him, once she was done with him after three weeks.
“I’ll make sure she gets home, Winthrope,” James said, interrupting her gleeful thoughts.
Sam smiled at him and giggled. “You will?”
He nodded.
She patted Charles’ cheek. “See? No need to worry. I’m perfectly safe. My friend, and colleague, is taking me home.”
Charles looked as if he were going to argue. Then, he sighed. “Fine. I wish I hadn’t said anything. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother.” She leaned back and almost lost her balance. She grabbed the bar just in time. “I don’t expect to hear from you for at least three weeks.”
His back went ramrod. His entire body tensed. Even his smile was stiff, but he didn’t make a scene. Good old Charles, she thought, watching him. She wondered briefly if he could handle what she had in store when he got exactly what he’d asked for in the short term. Maybe this was for the better. After all, marriage did need spicing up now and then. She’d have to put that into her plans for their second anniversary.
“You’re right about our relationship suffering from tedium. A break can only help us, but I guess we can talk on the phone,” she said, taking pity on him.
She held out her cheek, careful not to lean too far, and he bent to kiss her.
He glanced at James. “I appreciate your seeing her home.” Then, muttering something about women, he pivoted and walked out of the bar, holding his head high without looking back.
“That was interesting.” James turned to her. “So, I take it you’re not planning your wedding?”
A frown replaced her smile. Her mood went south in a hurry. “Silly me. I thought for sure Charles was going to propose tonight. Instead, he called me rigid. Said our relationship is tedious and I’m too predictable.”
“You can be a bit predictable.” When she stiffened and opened her mouth to disagree, he amended, “Except where your work is concerned.”
Sam shut her mouth and stared at him in silence for a long moment, noting only sincerity in his eyes. James cared about her and he would never lord it over her about this, not like she’d secretly done with him and his relationship problems. Maybe she’d been a tad judgmental.
“It’s more than that,” she finally said, losing the rest of her bravado. “I told you Charles has been acting funny for weeks, just assumed his behavior was related to nerves over asking me to marry him, but I left out the part about his new loan officer. Mary Ann says the timing’s not a coincidence. Now that he asked for a break, I see her point. He says he likes her spontaneity. What if he likes more about her? She’s gorgeous. What am I going to do?”
She’d never given her nondescript looks much thought. Primping was beneath Sam. So was makeup. Besides, what could Sam do to improve upon brown hair and brown eyes, other than become someone she wasn’t? No, she wasn’t a beauty by anyone’s standards, but she had good bone structure, as her grandmother had always said. Since college, airheads with nothing but looks going for them certainly hadn’t threatened her—until now.
“She’s everything I’m not. What if I can’t compete?” This was like high school all over again.
“Where’s the Collins I know and love? What’ve you done with her?” James teased and pretended to search around her. “You’re a creative artist and you’re the woman Charles loves.”
“He shouldn’t have concerns. Not after three years. I’ve always thought we were in sync with each other. Obviously, he thinks differently.”
“Maybe you match him too perfectly. He’s a man. We men are simple creatures who only want to be needed. Of course, if you throw in a woman who’s exciting in the bedroom, you’ll have a slave for life.”
“Leave it to you to make this about sex.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Collins. Sex pretty much works on most guys.”
“All I want is reliability in a mate, someone I can count on, who’s stable enough to offer security.” Her expression turned wistful. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” The memory of her bleak childhood flashed through her mind. She’d never had stability. She’d never had anyone to count on. She’d never known her dad, and her mom would never make Mother of the Year. Sam had decided early on to live her life differently and recoup everything her childhood lacked. From the first moment they started dating, she’d always been able to count on Charles. Until now.
“Well, cheer up, I’m here to help.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Never been more serious in my life. Have you eaten?”
Sam ignored his question about eating, as her lips curled in disbelief. “How can a person who changes partners as often as you change your sheets help me fix my problems with Charles?”
“Ouch. You know you’re exaggerating. What’s more, you shouldn’t offend me. I just might tell Brad and Russell we made a mistake and revoke your partnership.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right.” She’d made full partner only months earlier. Since her talent added a perfect mix to the firm, his threat held no more weight than a feather. Plus, their relationship had started out from the very beginning as friends, despite his penchant to go through women. In the four years she’d worked for the firm, he’d never been anything but a friend and an excellent mentor. James had also introduced her to Charles. “The only way you can help is to let me get drunk in peace.”
“And that answers my question about eating.” When she glared at him, willing him to leave, he only grinned. “I’ve never seen this side of you. Are you always this prickly when someone riles you?”
“Just being honest. I’ve been with Charles for three years. Your longest relationship in that time was—what? Four months?”
“Yep. Definitely hungry when you start insulting one of your peers without provocation. You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.” He stood, threw thirty dollars on the bar, and grabbed her hand to pull her off her perch. “Come on. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Wait. I’m not ready to leave yet.” Dizziness assaulted her as she reached for her purse
and almost toppled.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.” Thank God he held her hand firmly, making it easier to maintain her dignity.
“My image needs a major overhaul. I’m throwing out the old Sam and becoming more spontaneous. I plan to start by drinking a lot more tonight.”
“Then we’ll buy a bottle of tequila and go to my place, so you can finish. That way I can join you.”
“It’s Friday night. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
“Not a thing,” James said, leading her to the door.
Her wobbly legs were slow to follow her brain’s signals. Simply placing one foot in front of the other required intense concentration. “What happened to Veronica?”
“Same old, same old.”
“Too bad. She seemed nice.”
He shrugged, still tugging her along.
Unsteady, she barely kept up, thankful he still had a strong grasp on her hand, otherwise she might have embarrassed herself. She’d die before she’d let him know it. She’d also die before she’d let him know how much Charles’ honesty hurt, or how that little voice in the back of her brain piped up again after a ten-year hiatus to tell her she didn’t measure up. With all her success, the voice should be silenced for good. Since her pain hadn’t abated, she wasn’t near drunk enough. The thought of continuing at his house sounded much more appealing than going home to an empty apartment too sober, so she was glad his plans with Veronica had changed. She lived within walking distance, in the same San Mateo, California, neighborhood. Neither would have to drive.
~
James and Sam walked in silence through the parking lot to his Toyota Sequoia. He helped her inside the SUV.
“This really isn’t a chick magnet. Someone like you should drive a sportier, sleeker car,” she said, slurring her words, once he climbed in beside her and started the engine. “Why don’t you?”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “You know, Collins, I’ll admit I have commitment issues, but I’m not that shallow.”
“Sorry.” Sam giggled. “Must be tough to go through so many women and not find one keeper in there somewhere.”
James gave up the struggle to hold on to his laugh. “You’re being a pain, you know? So I’ve had a problem finding the one? Is that a crime?” Usually, she was more understanding and less outspoken. But not tonight. The tequila had totally obliterated her normal restraint. He decided he liked her this way. He’d always liked her and felt comfortable around her. Never felt attracted to her, though. Which was a good thing because, as she’d often pointed out, his track record with women was shitty. Beyond shitty. He made a much better friend than long-term partner. Besides, she was too set in her ways—too serious, too single-minded for his taste. He liked his women softer, especially for a lover. She was a terrific friend, even when she was being too honest. “If you continue to insult me, I’m not going to help you.”
“Fine.” Another giggle escaped. “I still say you should drive a sportier car.”
“Why? I like this car.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s big enough with plenty of horsepower.”
“Ah! The truth finally comes out.”
“What truth?” He ignored the surge of irritation her comment brought forth, put the car in gear, and backed out of the space. “I like having ample power to use the four-wheel drive for going skiing in Tahoe, and being able to haul four adults and luggage is an added bonus.” He spared her a glance after turning onto the main road. “Enough about cars. Let’s talk about you and Charles.”
“Spoilsport.”
“We’re not here to poke fun at my mode of transportation,” he said, braking for a red light. When the car came to a stop, he gave her his full attention. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Sure. My problem is simple.” She made a face. “I’m too rigid. I doubt talking will do much.”
“Talking always helps put things in perspective.”
“I already have perspective. Charles is concerned about our relationship. He called it tedious…said he wants more spontaneity…that I’m too predictable.”
When he didn’t respond, her chin shot up and she glared at him. Her entire body straightened into one tight board. “I am not predictable.”
“Of course not.” He shook his head, stifling a grin at her outraged denial. In his opinion, Samantha Collins was someone he could set a clock to, she was so regimented. “Let’s see. Monday you wear brown, Tuesday navy. Wednesday and Thursday you mix it up a bit with either brown, navy, or gray, but Fridays are always black.”
“So, what are you? The clothes police? I happen to like those colors.”
Of course she did. He rolled his eyes. “You know you could vary your pattern, go a little crazy and wear black on Monday.”
“I’m organized.” She broke off, considering his assessment. “And I’m a professional. I have to act the part.”
“And you do—too much.”
“What do you mean?” Some of the stiffness left her spine.
“I mean it wouldn’t hurt to throw a little femininity into the mix. Those business suits you always wear make a guy wonder if there’s really a female underneath.”
“Just because I poked fun at your car doesn’t mean you have to retaliate.”
“I thought we were being honest. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything that shows off your feminine side. Red would look great on you.” The look she sent him was priceless. “Trust me. I haven’t lost any marbles. While you’re at it, you should learn to relax. Enjoy life. You take everyday shit much too seriously.”
When she stiffened up once more, he added quickly, not giving her a chance to interject, “When’s the last time you left work early to do something frivolous?” The light turned green and he resumed driving. A half a block later, he added, “And your routine never varies. Every morning you come into the office at exactly seven forty-five with your usual cup of black Starbucks coffee and an apple. God forbid, you should ever eat an orange or drink a Coke.”
“I guess I have become a little rigid in my quest for success.” She leaned back into her seat and sighed. “Thank God I have three weeks to change and be more flexible.” She remained silent until he turned into the Burger King parking lot. “Why are we stopping here? I thought we were going to dinner.”
“It won’t kill you to eat fast food.”
“Yes, it will.”
“Live a little. Think of this as your first exercise in flexibility.”
“Studies have shown—”
“Quit reading the studies,” he said. “Besides, you’re in no condition to wait hours for a restaurant table, which is what it would take this time of night on a Friday.” When she opened her mouth to complain, he put his finger over her lips. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re being rigid. Three weeks isn’t a lot of time.” He grinned at her fuming glare—a glare so hot, he was sure he saw steam rising from the top of her brown hair that was tightly pulled back and held in place with its usual clip.
“I don’t get what all those women see in you. You’re obnoxious and pushy.”
“It’s my temperamental side, the artist in me. Can I help it if women love it?” He broke off and nodded toward the menu at the side of the car, ignoring her snort of disagreement. “Pick out something. FYI, I see a few nutritious items listed up there.”
She told him and he ordered when the box outside his window squawked.
“See? Now was that so difficult?” he asked twenty minutes later, watching her wolf down the burger and fries like she was inhaling air, as they sat picnic style on a blanket in the living room of his San Mateo home. One thing about Collins, he thought, his gaze fixed on her as he polished off his margarita. He was always comfortable in her company. He could relax—be himself. He may give her a hard time about her inflexibility, but she was okay. Mainly because he could be an inflexible bastard at times, so they shared something in common.
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“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like fast food more than you let on.” He shook the frozen contents in the blender pitcher before topping off her drink, and then adding to his own.
“I guess I was hungry. I love BK Whoppers.”
“Then why avoid them?” Her answer was a lift of her shoulders, which didn’t satisfy his curiosity. “You don’t have a weight problem, so what’s wrong with enjoying a burger every now and then?”
“I’m not worried about gaining weight. I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t do stupid things that weren’t beneficial to living the best life I can. Since fast food’s unhealthy, I don’t eat it.”
He considered her response while taking a sip of his margarita, wondering why she had this need to control her environment. Except in her designs. She gave her creativity full rein when she worked, never ceasing to amaze him with her fantastic ideas. Those two facets of her personality intrigued him. If he was going to help her with Winthrope, he needed to get her to push past that control, get her to lighten up.
He grinned. He’d bet a month’s pay Collins was even controlled while making love. He mentally rolled his eyes. Not his problem. Like he had room to make judgments. He knew he was going through some kind of weird cycle right now, especially since he’d called it off with Veronica. He sighed. He didn’t want to think of that either. He shoved his errant thoughts aside and teased, “I only know of one other woman who can eat like that and never gain an ounce.”
“I’ve seen the women you date. Most look like they’ve never eaten a full meal in their life, much less enjoyed it.”
“You know, you just might hurt my feelings.”
When she snorted and said, “Fat chance,” he chuckled. Sam always gave him a hard time about his choices in women. Which was why he’d been ultra-picky with Veronica and so sure a relationship with her would be different. Yet, somehow she’d bitten the dust, just as too many others had before her, and right now he was tired of the whole dating game.