“Just letting you know the offer still stands. For both of you,” Jay said, lifting the beer in the air and pointing to both of us with it.
“Yeah, whatever.” Brodi cleared his throat. “So, you going to show me around this dump or what?” he asked, turning to me.
“Careful calling this a dump,” I warned. “Jay decorated it.”
“Of course he did,” Brodi conceded. “Look at all the fancy shit on the shelves. As if you could pick anything like this out.”
“This fancy shit cost me a lot of money.”
“Look, if you’re not entertaining me with hot chicks, the least you can do is give me a tour.”
I started at the roof top deck, showing Brodi around as we finished off the next round of drinks and waited for our dinner to be delivered.
“What’s down there?” Brodi asked after he’d seen his fill of the second floor where my bedroom and office were located. He was pointing to the stairs that led to the bottom floor and the last bedroom of my condo. When Cat had seen my place, I’d kept all the boxes of stuff down there while I unpacked.
“His dark room,” Jay offered before I could say “Nothing.”
“Dark room? You’re a photographer?” Brodi descended the stairs without waiting for an answer. He pushed open the door and flicked on the light. “Holy shit. Are you a serial killer?” Brodi stood in the middle of the room, spinning around so that he could see all of the photos I’d developed over the weekend. Most of them were of Cat, some she knew I’d taken, but a good many of them she hadn’t.
“Does she know about this?” Brodi asked.
“No, and I’d prefer you didn’t tell her.”
“Why not? She’s whacked enough that she might find this oddly romantic,” Brodi suggested.
“Doubtful.”
“What happened with you two anyway?” Brodi asked, stepping forward to look more closely at a large photo of Cat painting on the graffiti wall. “I thought you guys were hitting it off pretty well.”
“They work together,” Jay offered.
“And that’s a problem because—”
“Because he’s her boss,” Jay clarified.
“I’m not technically her boss,” I argued. “I just oversee some of her projects.”
“Yeah, I see the problem now.” Brodi frowned. “Our Cat likes to be the boss, not be bossed.” He wasn’t wrong. Brodi turned back toward the pictures, leaning in to look at them with a critical eye. “These are really good.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. I know about composition and contrast and all that shit. I was a Fine Arts major in college. Where do you think I met this asshole?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward Jay without looking away from the photo he was inspecting.
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t go to art school, I just took photos for fun.
“Do you do this professionally?” Brodi had moved on to another photo and was studying it, his pointer finger sitting alongside his mouth and his elbow resting on his other arm. He looked like he was viewing art in a gallery.
“It’s a hobby,” I admitted.
“You should do this professionally.”
I looked at my photos and tried to see them through his eyes. I knew I had some creative tendencies, but I’d gone to school to get my business degree like my father wanted. I’d also taken enough extra classes to secure myself a double major in graphic design. I started out as a designer in William Stone Media, but my business degree and my last name helped me climb ladders quickly in the firm. I knew my father hoped I’d one day take a more permanent role in the business and I’d accepted that. Graphic design may have been my “in,” but if my father had his way, someday I’d be just another suit.
I’d fallen in love with photography in college, but it had never been more than a hobby. I had a future with my father’s business, and photography was just for fun. Wasn’t it?
“Seriously, dude, you could sell this stuff.”
“You think so?” I asked.
“I know so.” Brodi promised.
— CAT —
23. LOSER
I can’t believe Huck out-trivia-ed me on Coming to America on Monday. And I really can’t believe I had to take Jackie out to lunch yesterday as my punishment for losing. I was still a little bitter that my “loss” was a result of me not knowing what the working title of the movie had been. I guessed Queens but I was wrong. It was The Quest. What a stupid name. One small mistake and it meant an entire hour at the mercy of Jackie’s vicious need for gossip. I’d been too confident in my knowledge, and I paid the price. Fucking Stone and his competitive nature. If I wasn’t so bitter, I’d probably be impressed.
Thankfully, I usually met Jay for lunch on Tuesdays, so he was there to help field Jackie’s questions. Actually, he did more than just field them. He entertained her the entire time. Jay was more than happy to talk about his “relationship” with Will Stone and spill all the gritty details, even though most of them were created on the spot. With Jay there, I got a free pass on talking to my chatty coworker. I was fairly certain that once Huck found out about all of the embellishments that Jay made on their “relationship,” he might be less inclined to challenge me in movie trivia next week. At the very least, he wouldn’t make me hang out with Jackie again.
But it was now Wednesday, and I wasn’t at work to find out if Jackie’s new gossip had made its way back to Huck. I was sitting in the waiting area at the University of California Irvine Cancer Center as my mom had some tests done to monitor her health. Her chemo and radiation treatments had ended a month ago, and the initial tests had shown some shrinkage to her tumor. It had shrunk, but it wasn’t gone. It was still hanging around, waiting. We knew that. We knew it was just a matter of time until it started eating away at her again. But the last few weeks had been good. My mom hadn’t regained all of her strength and she was often tired, but she was eating more and her pain was under control thanks to Nadine’s organizational skills.
I had my laptop out and I was finishing up some designs for the Hoffman Conference and Expo that was taking place at the beginning of next month. My mom was on the other side of the huge swinging doors getting a PET/CT scan. It was annoying that I wasn’t allowed to go back there with her, but the nurses and technicians were all amazing people. Nothing like Dr. Schuman. I told my mom after we first met him that I was pretty sure he must have had some sort of medical procedure to remove his empathy, because there was no way that a normal person could be that apathetic about the life and death of another human being. But the nurses and technicians made up for his shortcomings. They were all wonderful, and I knew my mom was in good hands. Maybe even in better hands than when she was with me.
My phone rang and I picked it up without looking at it, assuming it was Jay. He usually tried to call me on Wednesdays to check in while I was at my mom’s appointments.
“Hey, Jay.”
“I just got a call from my father.”
Shit. It wasn’t Jay. It was Huck. “Hey, Stone. You do know it’s my day off, right?”
“Can you explain to me how my father, who lives on the east coast, heard a rumor that I was in a serious relationship with Jay?”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t know.”
“I’m serious, Cat. My mother already called to tell me that it was okay, she’d love me no matter who I shared a bed with. She asked me to bring Jay home for Christmas.”
“Are you going to take him? He’s always wanted to visit D.C.” This was even better than I could have hoped for. It almost made up for the disappointment of losing in movie trivia.
“What exactly did you say to Jackie? The entire office is buzzing with rumors about me and your roommate. I’ve had no less than a dozen women come up and tell me what a shame it was that I played for the other team.” Huck didn’t sound mad or even exasperated. He sounded a little bit devious actually. Like he was planning and calculating exactly how to exact his revenge. And that was the thought that sobered me up.
“It’s not my fault. Jay had lunch with me and Jackie and he did most of the talking.”
“But you didn’t have the heart to set the story straight.”
“I was busy eating,” I defended myself.
“I should have known.”
“Hey, you were the one that insisted I follow through with the punishment part of our challenge.”
“You were the one that came up with the punishment,” he reminded me.
“Well, I didn’t think I’d lose.”
“You didn’t really have much of a choice. I always get what I want. You should know that by now.”
“You do not. Why do you think we fight so much? In the three years we’ve known each other, you’ve rarely gotten your way with me. And that’s because you know I’m always right.”
Huck was quiet for a moment. “I guess in the past you’ve been right a few times. But I think your winning streak is long gone.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will.”
“Why do I get the impression you’re not talking about work?” I asked.
“Next Monday, my office. Movie is Better Off Dead. Study up, Maverick.”
“I’m an ‘80s movie expert, Stone. You’re going down.”
“I have a feeling you’ll be the one going down, Cat.” Huck’s voice dropped low in amusement, and I hated that memories of a pool and fireworks and a very wet and naked Huck caused my body to tingle in all the right spots—I mean wrong spots. He hung up without another word, and I was left hot and bothered, holding a silent phone.
***
“How are you doing on the search for a new gallery curator?” my mom asked as we were on our way home.
“I found someone that I think will do a really good job. Are you interested in meeting him for an interview?”
My mom stared out the window and was quiet for so long I thought she might have fallen asleep. Even though she wasn’t receiving chemo treatments anymore, our all-day excursions to the hospital still exhausted her. She took her wig off and absentmindedly scratched at her head, which was still mostly bald. It barely had any peach fuzz at all. I knew she was tired of wearing the wigs and eager for her hair to grow back. Sadly, we both knew she might not ever have a full head of hair again before . . .
I couldn’t finish the thought. Even though I knew it was inevitable, even though I knew she was terminal, I didn’t allow myself to think the rest of the sentence.
“No. I trust your judgment.” The words came out in tired breaths that seemed on the verge of being her last ones.
“Really? You trust my judgment?” I looked over at her. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”
Her gaze moved slowly from the blur of the landscape along the highway and finally found its way to me. “The Gallery is yours. I always hoped you might want to run it someday, but I understand if you don’t. The fact remains, however, that it’s yours now, so you can do whatever you want with it. I trust you, Cat. I always have.”
I swallowed a few times until I knew I could speak without crying. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot. Even though I don’t want to run it myself, I’ll make sure it’s in good hands. I know how much you love it.”
She waved her hand, dismissing the thought of the Gallery as if it hadn’t been the one thing she’d poured her heart and soul into for nearly twenty years. “I don’t love anything as much as I love you. I just want to know that you’re taken care of and happy when I’m gone.”
I bit my bottom lip. “You don’t need to worry about me, I can take care of myself. You need to worry about yourself and staying healthy. That’s all that matters right now.”
“I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry. You’ve always been self-sufficient, Cat. I know that. I know that technically, you’ll be fine. I’m not worried about money because I’ve left enough for you to be comfortable, and I know you’re a tenacious worker and that you will exceed your goals. What I meant was that I worry about your heart. I want you to be happy.”
I didn’t speak until I knew I could do it without the appearance of tears. “That might be a little difficult for a long time, Mom.” What I really wanted to say was, How can I be happy when you’re dead? Because really, I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t imagine a happy world without Anita Durand in it.
“It’ll only be difficult if you let it be.” She reached across the space between us to put her hand on my arm. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry in front of her. “You’re the one that has the choice over your happiness, Cat. You’re the one that can open your heart or seal it off. I want you to know what love is, and I want you to give it a chance. I need to know you won’t be alone.”
“I know what love is, Mom. I love you and Jay. And I might be lonely, but I won’t be alone. Jay will always be with me, don’t worry.”
“Jay can only do so much, Honey.” My mother sighed and looked back out the window, her gaze focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. “Huck seemed really nice. There was something there between you two.”
“It’s called irritation, Mom. He irritates me.”
She laughed. “Maybe a little, but you’re not telling me the truth, Cat. And you’re definitely not telling yourself the truth. I might be sick, but I’m not blind.”
“We’ve been over this, Mom. He’s my boss.”
“Things can change.”
***
The weekend was full of more hints from my mother that I go out and find true love, like it was just shoved under my bed, and all I needed to do was look for it. Monday was almost a relief, even it if meant suffering through an hour lunch with Huck Stone, pretending I wasn’t attracted to him. He’d gotten us salads and wraps from a café down the street, and we’d already spent the last ten minutes playing movie trivia. I watched Better Off Dead a few times over the weekend and even did some internet searching to find some off-the-wall trivia facts I didn’t think he would know. So far, he was proving to be very tough competition. We were dead even. We hadn’t bothered to talk about my projects at all. Huck already had all of my updates via email, so there was really nothing to talk about except for the movie.
“What was the family crisis Lane gave for why he couldn’t pay Johnny the paperboy the money he was owed?” Huck asked.
“That’s easy,” I said. “Lane told Johnny that his mother took his brother to school, his dad was at work, his brother got his arm caught in the microwave, and his grandmother dropped acid and hijacked a bus of penguins.”
Huck scowled. “I thought you’d at least forget one of them.”
“No chance. I told you I was an expert. I guarantee you don’t know this one.”
“Try me.”
“What is Monique’s last name?”
Huck laughed. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“You don’t know?” I grinned.
“It’s Junot. Don’t waste my time, Maverick.”
“Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got, Stone.” I took a bite of my turkey wrap.
He grinned. “You’ve seen everything I’ve got.”
I rolled my eyes and tried not to think about all I had seen. As I chewed, I beckoned with my fingers for him to ask his question.
“The actress who plays Beth is Amanda Wyss.”
“That’s a statement, not a question,” I pointed out.
“Let me finish. I’m trying to help you out here.”
“Yeah right.”
“As I was saying,” Huck continued, “Beth is played by Amanda Wyss. When Beth shows up to the school dance, the boy behind her is wearing a Freddy Krueger sweater. Why is this significant?”
“It’s not.”
“Oh, but it is,” Huck said, winking.
“Is this a trick question?”
“Do you have an answer?”
“Yes, I already told you. It’s not significant. At all.”
Huck rubbed his palms together. “Looks like I win, Maverick. I’m sorry to have to tell
you that Amanda Wyss played Freddy Krueger’s first victim in A Nightmare on Elm Street.”
“First of all, that doesn’t count as Better Off Dead trivia. Secondly, I don’t watch horror movies, so there is no way I would know that. Thirdly, I’m not counting that as a real question.”
“Only because you didn’t know the answer.”
“No, because it’s not a real question.”
“Fine,” Huck said. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give you another chance, double or nothing. If you lose, we watch next week’s movie together. That’s your punishment.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t do that. It’s one thing to be friends in the office, but outside the office, we’re off-limits to each other.”
“Afraid you don’t know the answer?”
I huffed. “You wish.”
“All right. Pay attention, Maverick. How many q-tips does Lane Meyer use in the beginning of the movie during the bathroom scene?”
“Seven,” I answered quickly.
A smile lit up Huck’s face, and it was such a handsome sight I almost choked on my wrap. “You want to watch the movie at your place or mine?” he asked.
I swallowed my food. “You’re smoking crack, Stone. It was seven.”
“It was eight, Maverick.”
I pulled out my phone, opened the web browser and quickly typed in “Better Off Dead bathroom scene.” When the results popped up, I clicked on the top link to watch the clip. Huck got up from his chair and leisurely walked around his desk to stand behind me.
“See?” I pointed out. “One in each ear, one in each nostril, and three in his mouth.”
“Don’t forget that other one in his mouth sticking up between the ones in his nostrils.” Huck leaned over me, pointing to the one he was talking about. I brought the screen closer to my face and sure enough, there was an eighth, freaking q-tip.
Hooked Page 21