by Vivian Wood
“No, it’s okay. I’m ready,” she said. She always ordered the same thing at Mexican restaurants—one chile relleno and a cheese enchilada.
Sarah ordered the seafood combination, and Ryan was briefly torn between two different grande combination platters. “I’ll just take them both,” he told the waiter as he snapped the menu shut.
“Both, Señor? You sure? I can have the kitchen box one to go—”
“I’ll take both,” Ryan repeated.
When the entrees arrived, they all dug into their food, and Ryan took up half the table with his order as usual. “This boy can seriously eat,” Sarah told Poppy. As if she had to. “I’m scared to ever cook for him; I don’t know if I could afford all the ingredients!” Ryan just shrugged and scooped another helping of rice and beans onto a chip.
Sarah laughed and put her hand on his knee. Poppy saw his reaction—he sat bolt upright and stopped eating. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said and made a beeline for the restrooms.
Sarah frowned at Poppy. “Do you think I’m coming on too strong? I mean, I know I can be assertive. Or aggressive, or whatever. I don’t want to scare him off…”
“No, no,” Poppy said to reassure her. “Actually… I don’t know.” She didn’t want to be put in the middle, or suddenly be considered the go-between for them.
Sarah laughed. “You know him better than anyone! At least stateside. Come on, you’re his bestie. His BFF.”
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know,” Poppy said as she set her fork down. “He’s… I don’t know. He’s different now that he’s come back.” She didn’t want to tell Sarah what kind of different, or that she’d started to notice how hot he was.
“Huh. Well, I guess I’ll either figure it out… or I won’t,” Sarah said. She picked up her margarita and licked a touch of salt from the rim.
“So, tell me. What’s up with work? I heard you have crazy hours.” Poppy was desperate to change the subject.
“Oh my God, seriously. These clients are driving me insane. The whole digital era thing really just means you work around the clock.”
“Yeah. I get that,” Poppy said.
“Oh, sorry. I mean not like you, not like a doctor or anything.” Sarah fumbled to fix her mistake.
“No, it’s fine,” Poppy said. She smiled and picked up her own margarita. “I didn’t—sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like your work is any less stressful than mine. Actually, honestly, I’m not even sure exactly what it is you do!”
“That makes two of us!” Sarah said. “It’s boring to explain, but it’s a whole lot of bullshitting with clients. And clients in the fashion industry are the biggest assholes. How’s your drink?”
“Not bad, actually,” Poppy said. She looked down, and it was half gone. At first when Sarah had pressured her to drink, she’d resisted, and just the thought of alcohol made her feel sick after yesterday. But apparently, it was true what they said. A little hair of the dog does work wonders. “I wasn’t trying to act all holier than thou or anything with the job. I blame sleep deprivation.”
“Or a hangover,” Sarah said. “Hangovers can be a bitch.”
“Yeah, or that! I haven’t drank like that in years,” Poppy said. “I don’t know what got into me. Just—I guess I had a lot of partying to get out of my system.”
“Girl, you deserve it. I mean, you’ve been either studying or working your entire life. You’re young! You’re hot! You deserve to let loose more often. Give that coochie of yours some action from time to time, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I’m lucky I’m not on rounds today. There’s no way I could have gone in and been even partially conscious. My liver isn’t what it used to be.”
As the mariachi band approached, a tube of red roses attached to one of the guitars, Poppy just had one thought. She couldn’t wait for this lunch to be over.
One of the guitarists handed each of them a rose, and they both shook their heads no violently. “Do they think we’re on a date?” Sarah whispered to her.
“No rose?” the boy asked. He looked hurt.
“Yes, roses!” Ryan slid back into the booth. “One for each of my hot dates here.”
Poppy blushed and Sarah laughed. The boy didn’t say anything about money, but clearly made the “donation” bucket attached to his strap known.
Ryan glanced at what was already in there—only fives, tens and twenties. He plucked a twenty from his wallet and tucked it in.
“Ryan!” Poppy said.
“Yeah, they're the most expensive roses I’ve ever bought, but it’s worth it,” he said. “How many guys can say they’re on a date with the two most beautiful girls in town, huh?”
Sarah giggled and rested her head on Ryan’s shoulder. Poppy held the rose awkwardly as the band moved to another table. What do I do with it now? Put it in my water cup? The petals were already dying, and it smelled like nothing but Mexican food.
“You don’t have to keep it,” Ryan said. She was embarrassed. He’d caught her unawares.
“It’s fine,” she insisted. I just don’t know what to do with it.
“Here,” he said, and took it from her. With a snap, he removed the stem and all the thorns, leaving just a two-inch piece at the base of the flower. He tucked it behind her ear. “Que linda!” he said with a smile.
She reached up and touched the flower in her hair.
“Do me,” Sarah said immediately, and handed her own rose to Ryan. He obliged, and trimmed off the excess stem with a snap.
“Do we look like Frida Kahlo?” she asked him.
“Uh, I personally don’t think Frida Kahlo was very attractive, so… ”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I mean the Salma Hayek version of Frida Kahlo.”
“In that case, yes. Hell yes,” he said.
10
Ryan
“Hey man, what’s up?” Mason still sounded half asleep, but it was nearly noon.
“Nothing much,” Ryan said. “I’m back in town, wanted to see if you’re up for grabbing a beer.”
“No shit. Back for good, you mean? Discharged?”
“Yeah. Bum knee. Been around too much estrogen since I’ve been here.”
Mason laughed. “I’m headed to a pickup game in a couple hours at Kalorama. You can join, it’s just a few guys from work.”
“Work, huh?” Ryan said. “Full-on civilian lifestyle now.”
“Yeah,” Mason said gruffly. “I went the private security route after my discharge. It’s good, it’s cool. See you at two?”
“See you, ” Ryan said. Pickup games during their downtime at training was how he and Mason had first started hanging out. Ryan pulled on an old muscle tee and jersey shorts. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd gotten a sweat on just for kicks.
“Ryan, this is Mike, Hakeem, Javi and Curtis,” Mason said. Ryan nodded at them. Even now, at the modest neighborhood court, it was clear they were all ex-military. “Ryan and I were in the SEALs together.”
“Cool, man,” one of them said. Ryan had already forgotten who was who.
As Ryan ran up and down the court, the midday sun beat down on them. “Fucking foul,” Mason said with a laugh when Ryan came at him hard.
“What, can’t take it these days?” Ryan asked. It felt good, the adrenaline rush and roughhousing.
“I can take it fine. You’re the one with the old man leg. What’s it they say?” Mason asked as he dribbled the ball between his legs at the half court line. “I remember the days when my knees were right and left, not good and bad?”
Ryan shook his head and smiled. He missed this, when it was just the guys. But those days were mostly over. He’d noticed wedding rings on half the guys’ hands.
“It’s hot as balls out,” one of them said after an hour. “This Indian summer is shit. Y’all want to head out?”
“Yeah,” Mason said. “I’m still hungover from last night anyway. Antonio’s?”
Ryan had never heard of it, and plugged the name into hi
s GPS. So much had changed since he’d lived full-time in this town. He noticed it more and more. Everyone around him would talk about events, restaurants and names, and he always nodded along like it made perfect sense to him. Since when does anyone go anywhere but Georgie’s for a slice?
They each ordered a pizza for themselves, and for once nobody gave him shit about his appetite. Families that lined the restaurant stared at the group of big men in their pickup gear, but nobody said anything—at least not until they ordered.
“Dad,” a kid whispered. “Those men ordered five pizzas. For here!” The dad shushed his son and gave Ryan an embarrassed look. Ryan just grinned and winked at the kid.
As they each tucked into their pizzas, huddled around the tables with the staple red checkered cloths, Mason started to grill him.
“So, what’s up?” Mason asked. “You normally don’t just hit me up out of the blue like that. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been back in town.”
“I always try to connect when I’m here,” Ryan said. Even as the words spilled out, he knew it was a lie.
“Bullshit,” Mason said. “I mean, I know we’re all busy. But this was a first. Last time you were on leave for, what, a whole month and I didn’t get so much as a booty call.”
“Whatever, man,” Ryan said with a laugh. “I’m sure you’re not lacking any booty call action.”
“You’d be surprised! You should know how it is, now that we’re in our thirties. The good ones are taken and the hot ones are crazy. Just gotta wait it out now until the good hot ones get finished with their first marriages, then it’s playtime all over again.”
Ryan laughed. Mason always talked big, and Ryan knew he got his fair share of play, but he wasn’t really like that. He knew Mason took his relationships seriously. “You got it all figured out,” he said.
“I try. So, how is it? I mean, being out of the service and all.”
“Weird. I mean, I was a SEAL for most of my adult life. I’m still getting used to the total lack of routine.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Mason said. “Felt like I went straight from my mom’s house with her yelling at me to get up at dawn to some sergeant doing the same thing.”
“I don’t know what it is. Human nature, maybe, to want that kind of discipline and someone managing you.”
“That’s strange though, isn’t it?” Mason asked. “We spend our entire childhood and youth where we just can’t wait to grow up. Then when we do, it’s like we seek out parents all over again. I mean, a lot meaner, tougher ones, but still the same kind of thing. You adjusting, though?”
“Yeah. I think so,” Ryan said. “I check in with the VA team pretty regularly. They seem to think I’m doing okay.”
“And what about the royal family?” Mason asked with a wink.
“Shit, man, I don’t know. Eli… it’s fucking weird, right? For your brother to be POTUS?”
“I’d think so, but hell if I know!” Mason said. “My brother’s an electrician.”
“With the whole Ellie drama over and everything, it’s mostly died down. Nobody really pays much attention to me.”
“You sound jealous,” Mason said. “Don’t worry. I still see the paps getting your photo in the tabloids from time to time. You fulfill the role of the president’s bad boy brother with your motorcycle and everything.”
“Yeah, I think those are slow days,” Ryan said. “Honestly, nobody ever bothers me or says much to me. All that hoopla from the campaign days has died down.”
“Probably for the best. That was some crazy shit.”
“I wouldn’t really know. I was deployed for most of it. I feel kind of bad, because I got to duck out of the insanity of it, but the rest of the family had to deal with it all—”
“Don’t be stupid. You were serving.”
“I know, but when I heard all the stories, and when Ellie was getting death threats…”
Mason shook his head. “I know they had to take it seriously and everything because of Eli, but I really think it was just a bunch of online teenage drama bullshit. People think they can say anything online and it’s not serious.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“But what about you now? You seeing anyone? Or...”
Ryan looked down and pretended to be engrossed in his slice. “Nah, not really. It’s complicated.”
“Ain’t that a Facebook status option?” Mason said as he drowned his own slice in parm and peppers. “But for real. I’m pretty smart, you know. With the ladies and everything. I’m up for listening if you want to bounce some stuff off me.”
Ryan hesitated. Mason was right. He had always been good with not just women, but the real meaty part of relationships. He acted like a badass, but when it came down to it there was a lot of sensitivity below the surface. He’d never tell him that, of course, but it was why he was so quick to befriend him. “I don’t know, man.”
Mason shrugged. “What could it hurt?”
Ryan looked at the other guys, who stuffed their faces with gusto and only popped their heads up occasionally to wash down bites of dough with beer. “I guess. Remember Poppy? My best friend since we were kids?”
“You talked about her, yeah.”
“I never thought about her in any other way, ever. Until now, since I got back. I don’t know, something’s different. Maybe she’s different, or me. I’m not sure.”
“So, something going on then?”
“No. Not exactly. There was this time, this moment I guess you’d say, at a pool party just last week. We almost kissed, but she bailed at the last second. Acted like nothing happened ever since.”
“Doesn’t sound that complicated,” Mason said. “It was a party. People are drunk. She might not even remember that.”
“It’s not just that. There’s also… she has this friend, Sarah. I never thought much of her. She’s kind of annoying, actually. But she’s hot, and we’ve been hanging out.”
“What’s your definition of ‘hanging out’?” Mason asked.
“Dating, I guess.”
“You sleeping with her?”
“No. It hasn’t got that far. But, you know, we’re ‘together.’ Maybe, I don’t even know if you’d say that.”
“But while this is going on, you got feelings for your friend. Right?”
“I don’t… yeah. I think so.”
Mason finished a slice and grabbed a napkin. “All I know is, if you’ve got feelings for someone, it’s not kind to lead another girl on.”
“I don’t even know if I have feelings for Poppy!” he said. The other guys glanced up, but went back to their pies. “I mean—”
“Look, all I know is you’ve told me you’ve been friends with this girl your whole life. If you don’t see yourself ending that ‘friendship’ anytime soon, there’s probably more going on than you realize. Than you even admit to yourself.”
Ryan sighed, and Mason clapped him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Maybe you’re right, man.”
“See? I told you I was smart,” Mason said as he tapped his temple. “There’s another game starting soon, a group of guys from crossfit. You wanna join?”
“Yeah, sure,” Ryan said. He looked down at the empty steel plates and the oil-covered napkins.
Do I have feelings for Poppy? Real ones? How did that ever happen?
11
Poppy
Poppy dropped the shopping bags on her bed and slouched into the desk chair. It was like this every year. She never knew what to get her mom for her birthday.
She’d walked around the mall for the past four hours. Nothing she saw seemed to scream at her, “Me! I’m what your mom wants.” Instead, she’d dropped a fortune on chocolates at Godiva, not even sure if her mom liked high-end chocolates. At the overpriced lotion and perfume store, she'd splurged on a sampler kit. Finally, she'd tied it all together with a collection of decorative, organic soaps in the shapes of various animals.
Poppy tore the price tag off the woven basket
she’d bought at the store where everything was imported from developing countries and each item was handmade. After lining the basket with tissue paper, complete with images of peonies so heavily in blossom they looked pregnant, she started arranging the gift basket. If nothing else, at least it would look pretty. Maybe her mom could even regift it.
This is ridiculous. It shouldn’t be this hard, or this stressful to go see your mom for two hours for her birthday.
As she put the finishing touches on the basket, she glanced at the clock and realized she only had thirty minutes before she needed to leave. Her heart thundered. It would be so much easier if I had a buffer. Some kind of safety net from Mom.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she scrolled through her phone and texted Ryan. Hey.
Hey, Pops.
Do you want to go on an adventure? she asked and waited. The ellipses told her he was typing.
What kind of adventure?
Lunch, burgers, I’ll buy.
I’m in.
I’ll drive. Pick you up in 10.
When she pulled up to Ryan’s condo, he was already waiting outside. She saw him from a block away, could recognize the slope of his shoulders from anywhere. I’ve never before realized I know him so completely, and at the same time it’s like I don’t know him at all.
“Thanks for the invite,” he said as he climbed in. “You know I’d never turn down a burger. Or a chance to hang out with you,” he added.
She bit her lip. “Do you mind actually getting a burger through a drive-through?”
“Oh, uh, no. Why? In a rush?”
“I have to go see my mom in Maryland. It’s her birthday.”
“Whoa! Wait, are you kidnapping me?”
“Ry, stop!” she said, and slapped his leg as she pulled away. “I could just use some backup, that’s all. It’s… awkward. Seeing my parents.”
Ryan raised his brows. “And why isn’t Will being the sacrificial buffer?”
She looked away and kept her eyes on the road. Still, she saw his eyes widen from her peripheral vision, and he twisted in the seat toward her.