by Sadie Hayes
“Good. Meatball subs okay? There’s this little spot in North Beach I’m craving. It’s a little out of the way, but totally worth it.”
Amelia blushed at Riley asking her permission. “Yes, of course,” she said, and smiled genuinely. “That sounds great.”
“Good!” Riley said. “Because I honestly was going to make you go regardless.”
The two women smiled at each other. Amelia was feeling better.
North Beach was the notoriously seedy part of San Francisco, a hodgepodge of tourists and strip clubs and old-world Italian cafés. Riley parked the car in front of Hungry I, a strip club whose massive fluorescent sign boasted “the prettiest ladies in San Francisco.” Riley was similarly unfazed by the men who catcalled as they walked across the street to an old-looking Italian deli.
“Don’t pay attention to them,” Riley instructed Amelia, who suddenly realized they were looking at her. Riley led Amelia through the gritty glass door of the deli and up to the counter, where a fat man with a waft of greasy black hair smiled broadly. “Miss Riley!” he announced in a thick Italian accent, wiping his hands on his white apron as he came from behind the counter to kiss her on either cheek.
“Giovanni!” Riley returned his warm greeting. “This is my friend Amelia.”
Giovanni embraced Amelia. “A friend of Riley’s is a friend of mine. What can I get you?”
“Meatball sub for me,” Riley told him, “extra provolone and extra marinara.”
“Coming right up,” Giovanni said. “And for you, Miss Amelia?”
Amelia blushed and looked at the menu. “Um … I’ll have the same?”
“Good choice.”
Riley glanced at her watch and then led Amelia to a table with a checkered tablecloth. Another man came out with two wineglasses and a bottle. “Special treat for an old friend and a new one,” he said, smiling warmly at Riley as he poured wine into the two glasses. “Sangiovese,” he announced.
Riley stood up and gave him a warm hug. “You all still spoil me.”
“It’s been a long time, my dear,” he said.
Riley sighed. “Too long! I assure you, they have nothing like this in Los Angeles.” She smiled as Giovanni brought the sandwiches out to the table.
“Saluté!” the men said.
“How do you know them?” Amelia asked as she took a bite of her hot meatball sub, which was, as promised, the best she’d ever had.
“Oh, God.” Riley laughed. “When I was in college, my boyfriend and I stumbled upon this place and loved it so much that it became our bimonthly date spot. We’d come into the city every other Friday and take that table over there and eat meatball subs. His parents kept an apartment here, so we’d steal their wine and sneak it in.” Riley chuckled, thinking back on being under twenty-one. “After a while, Giovanni thought we were so cute he’d give us wine instead of making us hide it. He knew we were underage but didn’t care.” Her smile indicated it was a favorite memory. “Seriously, we must have come here thirty times.”
Amelia also smiled at the story. She could imagine Riley coming here with some handsome musician boyfriend.
Riley clenched her teeth as if wondering whether she should say it, but finally conceded to herself. “I guess I should mention that my college boyfriend was T. J. Bristol.”
Amelia almost choked on her meatball. “T. J. Bristol? Was your boyfriend?”
Riley laughed. “Yeah, I know.”
“But you’re so…”
“Don’t say ugly.”
“No, no, not at all.” How could she even joke about that? “You’re just so … mature.”
“I was two grades ahead of him. I hope he’s doing well; I literally haven’t spoken to him since we broke up. Needless to say, I was a little taken aback when you said he was your CEO.”
Amelia’s mind was spinning, mostly thinking about T.J. having cute bimonthly dates in an Italian deli. In a million years she’d never have guessed he had that side to him. It made her skin tingle: Maybe he wasn’t just attracted to dumb sorority girls after all.
“Anyway!” Riley exclaimed, hoping to change the subject. “These subs are delicious, right?”
“So good,” Amelia agreed. She looked at the wine, which she hadn’t yet touched, and boldly took a sip. It was bitter, but after a second in her mouth turned a little sweeter and tasted good. She had another sip, trying not to blush at the thought of college T.J. and Riley.
“Thank you,” Amelia finally said, looking from her food up to Riley.
Riley smiled her warm, genuine smile. “You’re welcome, Amelia.”
They finished their subs and said good-bye to the Italians, who insisted Amelia come back anytime. Between the wine and the meatballs, Amelia was feeling warm, like she could deal with Adam tomorrow.
They got back in the car and headed up the 101.
“So what kind of musician was your dad?”
“He played guitar and was lead vocals in this Grateful Dead cover band. With my godfather, Roger.”
“Roger Fenway?”
“Yeah! Do you know him?”
Amelia laughed. It was like she and Riley were meant to know each other. “Yeah, he’s my mentor. I mean, he’s the reason Doreye even exists. And honestly, he’s like a dad to me. I mean, I didn’t have a dad, and Roger’s like the closest thing I’ve ever had.”
Riley smiled. “Of course. That’s just like him.”
She fell silent and the air in the car suddenly felt heavy.
“Are you okay?” Amelia asked.
“It’s just so sad,” Riley said, and shook her head as if trying to shake tears out of her eyes.
Amelia wasn’t sure what Riley was referring to. “That I didn’t have a real dad? That’s okay,” she consoled.
“I mean what’s happening to Roger. First his wife, now he’s got stage four? It’s just not fair.”
Amelia’s heart imploded with a pain different from any other pain she’d ever felt. “Stage-four what?”
“Did you not know? Roger has cancer.”
14
The Waiting Game
T.J.’s body felt heavy as he left Stanford Hospital. He’d never really had to deal with death before—all four of his grandparents were still alive, and the only funeral he’d ever been to was for a great-uncle he’d never met. His golden retriever had died when he was eighteen and he had been unspeakably sad for more than a month, but it didn’t really feel fair to draw a comparison between Roger and Flash.
As he climbed into his car, T.J.’s phone rang from his pocket. His iPhone announced it was “Lisa Sister” (he’d added the “sister” piece so as not to confuse her with “Lisa Hookup,” a girl of the same name he frequently sexted).
“Hey, Sis,” T.J. said, trying to sound cheery, “what’s up?”
T.J. heard his sister sniffle on the other end. “T.J.… T.J., I…” She was sobbing and couldn’t get a sentence out.
T.J. sat forward, instinctively launching into protective-big-brother mode. “Lisa, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m on the train,” she stammered, “back from San Francisco.”
“How close are you? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? Lisa, tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she sniffled, “I just really need someone to talk to and I—”
“I’m coming to get you. Get off at the Menlo Park station, okay? We’ll go back to my apartment and we can sort everything out.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you, T.J.”
“I’ll be waiting when you get off. And I’ll beat the living crap out of whoever did this to you.”
* * *
T.J. was waiting when Lisa got off the train, and together they sped back to his apartment, the modest penthouse of one of the few upscale apartment complexes in downtown Palo Alto. He made hot chocolate while she changed into a pair of his sweats.
“Thank you,” she said, and sighed as she took the mug from him and curled her legs up under her o
n the couch. Her face was stained with tears, but she’d regained her composure.
T.J. took the chair opposite the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She sighed and said, “Yeah,” but that was it. She took a long sip of her hot chocolate and sighed again.
“It’s okay,” he probed gently. “Whatever happened isn’t your fault, and whoever hurt you”—he laughed gently—“will seriously die, okay?”
She smiled at his attempt to make her feel better and swallowed to gather her courage. “It’s Adam,” she said.
“Who’s Adam?” he asked.
She lifted her eyes. “Adam Dory?”
T.J.’s jaw dropped. “Adam Dory?” he repeated.
“Yes, Adam Dory.”
T.J. couldn’t hide his speechlessness, and Lisa turned her eyes to the floor to avoid his shocked expression as she went on.
“Adam and I were … hooking up.” She glanced up—yes, he was still in shock. “Well, it was more than just hooking up. We were together, and I was going to break up with Sundeep so I could be with Adam, but then Sundeep’s family disowned him. I just couldn’t, you know? I couldn’t break up with Sundeep no matter how much I cared about Adam. And Sundeep and I … well, we’d become so platonic, we might as well have just been friends anyway.”
She paused. T.J. closed his jaw, but his eyes were still wide.
“And then over Christmas, when we were in Maui, Adam saw Sundeep and me together and figured it out before I could tell him myself. Now Adam hates me, which I totally understand, but he, like, won’t even give me a chance to explain. I know it was my fault, but he’s just being a total asshole.”
“So you saw him in San Francisco?”
“Yes. I was with Dad at Saks and we ran into him.” Lisa started to tell him about what she’d learned about Ted mentoring Adam, but she caught herself. Knowing that the father who had never given T.J. the attention he wanted was now doting on someone else would crush her brother. Better stick to her own plight. “So Dad asks Adam if he can give me a ride back to campus because he’s got that party—but then as soon as he left Adam got really drunk and—” Lisa paused, her eyes refilling with tears.
T.J.’s head was spinning. His little sister had been hooking up with Adam Dory? Dweeby Adam Dory had been secretly dating his sister for months while sitting across from him discussing business strategy? His first instinct was to rip Adam’s head off, but the situation kind of made him respect Adam; she may be his sister, but Lisa was a hot item. And keeping cool with T.J. while he was secretly banging his sister was pretty slick.
T.J. got up from the chair and moved next to his sister, putting his arm around her and pulling her head in to his shoulder, trying not to worry about the mascara smearing onto his favorite Façonnable button-down. “It’s okay, Lisa,” he said, stroking her head. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“You’re not mad?” she sniffled into his shoulder.
“Of course I’m not mad. You’re my little sister. You know I’ll always be here for you.” He gently pushed her up so he could look at her and smiled jokingly. “Even if you do have terrible taste in men. I mean, seriously … Adam Dory?”
She laugh-cried with him for a moment before reburying her face and letting out a heaving sigh. “But there’s another thing, T.J.”
“What is it?”
“I haven’t told anyone at all, T.J. I think I’m afraid to.”
“You can tell me anything, Lisa. You know that.”
“The last time Adam and I were together was in Hawaii, and that was about two months ago, and…” She started but couldn’t finish. She pushed herself up and looked T.J. straight in the eyes. No need to think or feel, just deliver the facts: “I haven’t gotten my period since.”
15
Duping Delight
“Where are we going?” Adam asked Violet. Not that it mattered. She was hot and she was leading him away from the St. Francis and he would follow her anywhere, but he felt like he should ask.
“There’s a party I want to crash,” she answered without more detail. She then caught herself, saying, “I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
“Oh, of course,” Adam said casually, watching her hail a taxi. Crashing a party in the city? How cool.
Adam admired the view of the San Francisco Bay as the car sped along the Embarcadero. Violet was texting furiously on her iPhone. “Sorry, just have to do something quickly for work.” She smiled at him from her side of the car. “You know, the day is about to start in London.”
“It’s no problem,” he said, smiling as he rolled down the window. She was so pretty.
“Thirteen twenty,” the cabdriver said as he turned off the meter and pulled up to an old warehouse on the water. Violet quickly swiped a credit card, carefully hiding the name on the card from Adam.
Adam wasn’t paying attention, though, and got out of the car to wait for her. The warehouse was an unlit cement block with industrial doors. Thick painted block letters read PIER 24 on the wall facing the street, and graffiti tags littered the side. Just behind the building was an old wooden deck where the violent waves of the San Francisco Bay lapped its rotting wooden posts.
Adam jumped as a homeless man stumbled toward him, pushing a rickety shopping cart overloaded with God-knows-what. The man was singing to himself and not paying attention to Adam, but Adam nevertheless ducked his head and got out of the way, instinctively covering his nose at the man’s stench as they walked by. Where were they?
“You’re not scared, are you?” Violet teased. Adam watched the cab speed off behind her and felt his heart momentarily clinch in fear that he’d done something very, very stupid.
But he let that thought go and instead tried to focus on the way her tight dress pulled across her hips.
“Stop staring at my legs.” She smiled and grabbed his hand, saying, “Let’s go.”
If I’m going to die a horrible death, Adam thought, at least I’ll go having held the hand of a gorgeous woman.
Violet’s high heels clicked on the sidewalk and she fearlessly led him to the run-down warehouse. She approached a side door and lifted the grimy cover of a keypad, where she entered a code with her purple-polished finger. Adam heard a buzz and Violet pushed the door open onto a dark corridor, stepping carefully to avoid spiderwebs and exposed electrical wires.
Adam stopped short, an image from The Godfather suddenly whizzing into his brain, causing him to feel alertly sober and afraid. “Where are you taking me?” he snapped, glancing behind him and calculating the distance to the door.
Violet howled with pure enjoyment as she pressed her body against his, placing her hand on his pecs. “I know it looks sketchy, but this is San Francisco: Sketchy is the new chic.”
“Who are you?” His whole body was on fire with fear and excitement.
“Think of me as a friend,” she said determinedly, her eyes peeking from below her blond bangs as her hand slid down his abs until her fingers toyed with his belt buckle, “and I hope that we can begin to be more than friends.”
He could smell her skin and feel her breath on his own, and this made the rest of his body pulse, the speed of his heartbeat not subsiding, but shifting to a different cause.
“I’d like that, too,” he whispered.
“Good.” She grinned, letting go of his body and firmly intertwining her fingers with his. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Adam Dory.”
He could still smell her breath on him and feel her hands on his body as he followed her down the remainder of the corridor and through another door, this one opening onto a large room with the highest ceilings he’d ever seen. Although a moment ago there was silence, suddenly music blasted from a DJ booth and at least a hundred chicly dressed people milled about with drinks in hand. Two walls of the room were entirely glass, looking out on the Bay at Alcatraz and toward the Bay Bridge, perfectly framed by the deep purple of the night sky. The walls made it feel like there was no divide bet
ween the inner and the outer world—like you could step into the water and reach out to touch the bridge’s lights. Adam had never seen San Francisco like this.
She laughed, saying, “See? Told you I wasn’t taking you somewhere to kill you.” She pulled him toward the bar. “Let’s get a drink.”
At the bar, Violet struck up a conversation with a couple who greeted them kindly. “This is Adam Dory,” Violet said, “the mastermind behind Doreye.” The man lifted his eyebrows and clicked his glass to Adam’s, clearly impressed.
“Well done. I’ve heard a lot about the app—really looking forward to the big launch.”
Violet handed Adam a Jack and Coke, which she had ordered without even asking him what he wanted. He quickly downed it and ordered another. He was feeling alive and exuberant, like this was the missing element that he’d been searching to find.
Violet kept blindly talking to people she didn’t know, always making a point to introduce Adam as the expert at the helm of Doreye. They all accepted it as absolute truth; no one said, “Oh, I thought there was a girl running it,” and no one ever asked, “Isn’t that T. J. Bristol’s thing?” He was perfectly credible as its leader, and Violet was beginning to show him it could be his.
After a while people started dancing and Violet led Adam to join in. She stepped back and forth and rocked her hips just so; she shook her head to the music, letting her blond hair move sexily back and forth over her bare shoulders. Adam had the unbelievable urge to cradle her head in his hands and feel her hair through his fingers and pull her mouth onto his and pull those hips toward his own. He forgot all about Lisa.
He was about to get up the nerve to do so when the DJ stopped the music and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate. Ted Bristol is here to share a few words.”
Adam felt his face go white with panic as he recognized Ted walking onto the stage. He was supposed to have given Lisa a ride back to campus. What if Ted saw him—what if he already had? Violet had just spent the last hour introducing Adam to half the room: Surely he was caught.