Tempting Fate

by Brinda Berry

  She folds her arms across her chest. “You make this offer very hard to resist.”

  “Yes, I know. You’d be crazy to turn me down.”

  “And so modest.”

  “Um-hmm.” I feel victory with her teasing tone.

  “And maybe I should ask for a raise.”

  I nod approvingly. “That was my next sentence. How did you know?”

  She moves around the empty loft, examines the view from the window, strolls to the sink and turns on the water. “This is all too much.”

  Her back is to me and her voice unsteady. When she turns, tears shimmer at the edges of her lashes. She rubs a finger under her eyes. “Sorry. I’ve never had my own place before.”

  I’m walking across the room before I can stop to think. I take both her hands in mine and squeeze. “I guess this means you’ll do it. You won’t leave me stranded and helpless. Typing up my own emails. Organizing the invoices in the billing software. Don’t tell Malerie, but she’s really damn awful at it.”

  I feel like a complete idiot when huge tears trickle down her cheeks.

  Veronica pulls me close and throws her arms around my neck, hanging onto me like she dangles on a high cliff. She places her head on my chest. The embrace is as innocent as what she might give a favorite uncle. Except her favorite uncle wouldn’t be thinking what I am. She’s barely touching me and my body craves more. I stroke the back of her head, fight the urge to back her up against the kitchen countertop, and laugh hoarsely. “I didn’t expect tears. You have to stop. Come on. I want you to be excited, but you’re killing me.”

  “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “Do you need the extra help?”

  I’d almost forgotten the job offer. “Do you need to know a definite time period?”

  She sniffles. “I think I do. And you have this planned on a list somewhere.”

  “Okay. A month. We can reevaluate later.” I don’t want to push her too hard. I disentangle her arms from my neck. If I don’t, I’m going to need a mid-morning cold shower.

  “When can I move in?” There’s a hint of excitement in her question that makes me want to reevaluate my plan. She’s so ready to get out of our house.

  “We can finish up early and ask Jordy to help. Is that soon enough?”

  She nods with a bright smile. “Gotta get back to work. I need to finish the entries I started earlier then I can clean the bathroom, and can we stop at a store on the way home? I mean your home. ‘Cause this is going to be my home.” She takes a deep breath, reaches me in a step, and hugs me a second time for the day.

  In an instant, she’s backing away and going to the stairs, leaving me in her whirlwind of giddiness. I’m smiling too. I take out my phone and ring Jordy.

  * * *

  The girl who is usually quiet in the car recites her list of supplies she’ll need for living in the loft. We argue about me footing the bill, but I win in the end when I insist I’d buy most of those things anyway and it would be a waste of money to have duplicates. The car in the driveway is unfamiliar, which doesn’t mean anything since Dylan’s car is also home.

  I open the door and step back to let Veronica in first. Her posture tells me something is up. A voice that sends stabbing needles of dread into every inch of my body greets me.

  “Hi. I wondered how much longer I’d have to wait.” Raquel sits on the sofa with Dylan. The skirt of her sundress swings when she hops up from the seat and waltzes across the room with her arms extended, ready for me to embrace her.

  Hell.

  “What are you doing here?” I swoop in for a quick one-handed hug and step away.

  “You don’t remember?” she says.

  “I don’t. Raquel, this is my friend Veronica. Veronica, Raquel.”

  Veronica stands with her hands clasped in front of her. She’s tense and I don’t know why. Maybe she’s feeding off my vibe.

  “Nice to meet you,” Veronica says. She looks at me. “I think I’ll find Jordy. Don’t worry about me. He’ll help with the…” she hesitates for an awkward couple of seconds. “…stuff.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I turn to Raquel, attempting to keep the scowl from my face. “What did I forget?”

  “I have a conference in St. Louis and you said to drop by if I had time.” She glances in the direction of the basement stairs. “I’m sorry. I can see this isn’t… I should’ve called. I have a rental and typed your address in the GPS and here I am.”

  Here. Doing what she pleases without thinking about anyone else. Typical.

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Dylan offers her a drink and I leave in search of Veronica. I find her in the game room brandishing a screwdriver like it’s a daily occurrence for her to do handyman work. “That can wait. I’ll visit with Raquel for a few minutes and then she’ll head out.”

  Jordy lifts his head from holding a section of the futon. “I can take this. You go ahead.”

  I silently vow to punch Jordy when I get him alone. Hard.

  “You don’t have to run her out the door. It’s fine. Jordy can help me.”

  Jordy takes several screws from Veronica. “Meet us at the loft if Raquel leaves in a few. We don’t need you.”

  “I’m clueless with tools.” Raquel says from behind me. I jerk my head back to look at her, annoyed that she’s here and invading the new life I’ve made. I realize she’ll be gone in a couple of hours, but her presence makes me feel uneasy. Less.

  Plus there’s Veronica to consider. I’m not hiding things from her. I hesitate to have these two worlds meet. The old world sullying the new.

  Veronica politely stops her work on the futon and smiles. “Jordy’s doing all the heavy lifting. I only turn a screw.” She hops to her feet and brushes off her jeans.

  “I guess Collin was supposed to help before I showed up.” Raquel smiles at me, a genuine one, making me even more uncomfortable. I haven’t talked to her for months. The onlooker might think it was only yesterday.

  Jordy clears his throat as he holds the futon frame. “Veronica, can you get the bag of hardware? I’ll come back for the mattress.”

  I grab the mattress and heft it under my arm. I had no idea it was wafer thin. I have bath towels more plush. “I’ve got this. I’ll be right back,” I say to Raquel.

  “Oh, I’ll get the door.” Raquel runs excitedly in her heels, each step an unsteady display of feminine vanity.

  We load the futon into Jordy’s Hummer with Raquel making comments about the size of it, the shape of it, the power it must have. I’m pretty sure she wants to start dating his vehicle.

  Jordy and Veronica pull out of the drive and I turn to Raquel. “Why are you really here?”

  Raquel finds a seat on the porch and takes her time in answering. She stretches her bare legs. “I can’t drop by and see you?” Her tone is deceptively light.

  “You could. But you always have a reason behind everything you do.”

  She doesn’t make eye contact with me. “When are you ever going to forgive me?”

  “Is that what this is about? It’s not that I don’t forgive you. I really don’t care anymore.”

  “I don’t believe you. If our breakup didn’t bother you,” she pauses and gets to her feet. “You’d move back to Chicago. I think you do still care. The wedding’s only a month away. I need forgiveness.”

  “Get over yourself, Raquel.”

  “Come to the wedding. If you come, it’ll prove there are no hard feelings.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Then do it. Prove me wrong.” She drops to her knees and grabs my hands. “I need this.”

  Her ring—a two-carat, two-timing boulder—twinkles at me while I shake my head. “For the love of God. Get up,” I say, struggling to pull my hands out of her surprisingly strong grip. I break into a sweat. “Stand up.”

  “I won’t believe you until I’m standing there in my white dress and look at your face. Don�
�t you want me to be happy?”

  “Raquel,” I shake her hands to free myself, like a dog shaking off water. I bend to look her directly in the eyes. “I’d rather eat barbed wire.”

  “Why are you being so mean?” We both look up at footsteps approaching and Raquel falls back with a loud squeal.

  With no warning, Veronica stands at the bottom step of the porch, mouth open and eyes open wider. The Hummer is back in the driveway and Jordy stands with his hands in his pockets.

  My head might explode from the ridiculous scene Raquel has provided on the porch. Jordy gives a sorry shrug.

  “Is everything all right?” Veronica asks. Her brow furrows in genuine concern.

  Raquel covers her face with her hands. She’s slumped on the porch, her skirt hiked up to mid-thigh, and her hair falling from its twist. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Oh no. Please. Let me help you,” Veronica says and moves to grab Raquel’s hands.

  “Come on.” I can’t hold back exasperation. Raquel majored in melodrama while in college. Surely Veronica’s not falling for this. “Why are you back?”

  Veronica mouth turns down in an uncharacteristic frown. “I forgot my purse and keys.”

  She helps Raquel to her feet and gives me a grave stare. A stare that shrivels my balls. The same cocky ones that didn’t realize how bad this looks. I seem unable to move and rectify this situation.

  Veronica opens the door for Raquel. “I’ll grab my keys. Raquel, why don’t you come with me? I might grab the pillows and sheets while I’m here.”

  I wince. This is going from bad to shitstorm.

  Jordy strolls to the porch, a suppressed smile tugging at his mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think we had cameras from Punk’d around the corner.” He glances from left to right as if he’ll see a cameraman step out.

  “Your timing is incredible.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me. So…” he says with a smirk. “Your ex is hot.”

  I turn and leave him on the porch. Inside, Veronica is loading up Raquel with a stack of blankets and pillows. “Jordy said I could borrow these for a while. You don’t mind, do you?” Her voice is pleasant with a hint of reserve. More worrisome, she’s not making eye contact.

  “Of course not.” I remove half of Raquel’s load from her arms.

  “You’ve been sleeping here?” Raquel asks. “That must’ve been uncomfortable with three men living in the house.”

  “Nope. Not at all.” Veronica’s voice grows soft. She finally makes eye contact again and there’s so much unspoken in her look. “They’ve all been wonderful to me. Collin gave me a job and a place to stay. He’s been nothing but good to me.”

  In this moment, it might be only the two of us in the room. A question in her eyes, a longing in mine to erase the crazy-ass thing she walked in on.

  Veronica blinks and moves forward. “Better get these outside before Jordy leaves me.”

  We take the bedding to Jordy’s vehicle. I open the Hummer door for Veronica and she nods shyly before stepping up to the seat. This entire production from Raquel has put me back a hundred steps with Veronica.

  Raquel speaks from behind me. “I’m sorry. Are you and she…” She trails off, waiting for me to fill in the rest.

  “It’s none of your business what I do, who I see, or anything else about my life. You gave that up when you decided to live a lie.”

  She extends a hand to touch my shoulder and I stop her. “You need to leave. Raquel, I wish you the best. Really. But I don’t think I can make it to your wedding.”

  “I hope you’ll change your mind.” Her smile is genuine and I’m reminded of the freshman girl I met on the first day of calculus. She’d worn her Chucks and a Pixies concert T-shirt. She’d turned me down for a date three times in one week. She’d said she had to concentrate on her studies. I’d been persistent and ten times more interested.

  She was a much different girl from the woman standing before me.

  “I won’t come. But thanks. I wish you the best. I do.”

  Raquel looks down at her ring and then up at me. “Thanks. Sorry about this…” she says as she waves at the porch. “I’ll grab my bag and get back to the hotel.” She walks to the door and lingers with her hand on the knob. “I hope you’ll change your mind,” she says with a slight turn to her head.

  The afternoon air is stifling hot, like standing an inch away from a crackling fire. I run upstairs and change.

  Veronica knows I’m not a jerk. Or at least she should. I hop into my car, crank up the air, and head to do some shopping—my least favorite pastime. There are things Veronica will need in her new place. I intend to spoil her. To make her feel she belongs.

  14

  Veronica

  The good news is I won’t be vacuuming around a ton of furniture. No tight spaces between a sofa and coffee table like at the trailer with its worn, beige carpet. The loft floor is a weathered wood and the futon the only object in the room.

  I sit and tuck my bare feet under me. There’s not much here. No books, no television, nothing to clean. No three-day-old tortilla chip staring at me from under the table, a souvenir from the careless snacking of Gunner’s friends. I grab one pillow and hug it to my chest. I’m indescribably happy and reminded of my sixteenth birthday, when Gunner built bookshelves for my bedroom in the trailer, even though he grumbled the entire time about not having enough space for a hamster, much less a teenage girl.

  This place is mine, if only temporarily.

  “Hello?” Collin yells from downstairs.

  “I’m here.” I sling the pillow aside and run to the landing. The loft door is open since I’d locked the one to the office.

  “Mind if I come up?” Collin appears at the bottom of the short staircase. His hands are full of plastic bags and a lamp tucked under one arm.

  “What’s in all the bags?” I have the distinct urge to meet him halfway down the stairs and drag him up. Could he walk any slower?

  “I first have to say something about the thing with Raquel … it was awkward.”

  I step back and let him enter. “Yeah. How does it feel to have women falling at your feet?”

  “Stop kidding around. I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

  “She flailed a little when we pulled in the driveway. I was worried she had hurt herself. Her face was very red.”

  “She flushes easily. Pale skin.”

  “She has a beautiful complexion. Very pretty. Before the … umm … falling at your feet,” I add.

  I reach for one bag and he pulls it back.

  He frowns. “Let me finish. Here’s the thing. I can imagine I looked like an insensitive bastard back at the house… Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, but you have bags in your hands and they’re distracting me.”

  “You aren’t upset about Raquel?”

  I eye him with a serious look. “Not now. I was mad when I got into the truck after seeing what happened.” Mad is an understatement. I was confused about my feelings. I wanted to think Collin’s a nice guy but I didn’t want him to be too nice to her. I didn’t want to imagine him kissing her like he’d kissed me.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Jordy calmed me down. He says he thinks Raquel is crazy. She friended him on all social media and does non-stop selfies. Raquel at the restaurant. Raquel at the grocery store. Raquel jogging. Raquel—”

  He holds up one hand. “I had no idea Jordy even knew Raquel’s name.”

  “You should talk to him more often. He said she hunted him down from your friend lists.”

  “This reinforces the one-thousandth reason why I’m not going to her wedding.”

  “Her wedding?” I choke. “That is not what I heard. I thought … never mind.”

  Relief floods me. I was wrong. She wasn’t begging him to take her back. And although Jordy has said she’s crazy, some guys get into girls like her. Also, there’s the fact that his love life can’t concern me. Not in the
least.

  I hold out my hands. “Are you going to show me what’s in the bags?”

  “Go sit.” He looks at the futon in the middle of the room and waits for me to do as he asks. “You know I respect the fact you don’t want to take things from people.” He sets the bags at his feet and a stack of towels tumble out. “But this isn’t a handout. It’s from me. It’s a housewarming present.”

  He steps closer. “And I couldn’t let you stay here without some essentials. I can’t do it.”

  My own foolishness hits me hard. Seeing the towels makes me realize I’m an idiot. A nineteen-year-old idiot who has never lived anywhere on her own, much less devised a list of items to set up a house.

  I would’ve made it work, I argue with myself. I have no choice.

  But here he is with all these things for me. I don’t even know what’s in the other bags. I have trouble swallowing past the emotion in my throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll never make me go shopping alone again. A woman twice my age hit on me in the kitchen aisle.” He rubs a hand over his chest. “Gave me heart failure when she grabbed my ass. Then she followed me down all the other aisles until I checked out—asking my age, my occupation, for my phone number. Hope the microwave is worth it.”

  I laugh hard, smiling so big I’m forced to close my eyes. “I would love to have been there.”

  “Next time you will be. I’m not going in alone.” He backs from the room. “Look through the bags and see if I did all right. I need to get the microwave from the car.”

  I get down on the floor and pull out the towels—five white, fluffy towels, thicker than a rug. Next I find a box of bright dishes, a small box of stainless utensils, and some glasses. Not those cheap plastic cups like Gunner and I use at home, but real glasses.

  One bag is full of groceries. There’s peanut butter and bread, milk, sandwich meat, and hot dogs. I realize he’s brought the things he’s seen me eat at his house. He’s thought to make me feel at home here.

  A small tear leaks from one eye. He keeps making me cry. I quickly wipe it away when I hear his footsteps on the stairs.