What he wouldn’t give for another beer, but he was driving back, and anyway, like cursing, drinking was something Shannon made them all cut back on because of the baby. As if his unborn nephew would care that Dillon had a second beer.
“What’d she say?” Justin was nonchalant again.
“She doesn’t drink coffee.” Dillon was scraping the label off his longneck, so he didn’t have to catch the knowing glances his family was undoubtedly sharing.
“What are you going to do when you see her on Monday?”
He shrugged. “Apologize? Pretend it never happened? I don’t know. Come on, stop hogging the pistachio ones.”
“Should have brought me some chocolate ones then,” Shannon said, not releasing the baklava. “Idiot.”
The problem with house hunting was Natalie, Serena’s realtor. Actually, the problem was Becky, Serena’s mom. Or to be most precise, it was her mom’s attitude about her realtor.
Natalie was one of Serena’s best friends; they’d lived together in college and been close ever since. She had also, for almost a year when they were twelve, been Serena’s stepsister. It was five years after her parents had divorced; her dad’s third marriage, and third stepchild.
By then, Becky Lofthouse-Colby was on her own second marriage, and might have given Serena’s new stepsister a little slack. Alas, no. Rides from Dad and Elaine’s house to Mom and Erik’s house were a finely balanced trek on a ledge with ‘don’t admit to any fun or comfort’ on one side and ‘don’t give her reason to rant about Dad’s failures’ on the other, and the surest way to cross safely involved bitching about Natalie.
Honestly, Serena wasn’t sure that Natalie ever did a thing wrong, back when they were stepsisters. She was a little clingy at times with Serena’s dad, but Serena was well over being Daddy’s Little Girl, so it didn’t bother her like it had when he’d let Alice’s demon spawn twins curl up on either side of him for story time, leaving her to stand behind him if she wanted to see the pictures.
All that was over half Serena’s lifetime ago, but Becky was still snippy about Natalie. She’d been snippy when Serena and Natalie had reconnected in college, and remained snippy throughout the decade of their adult friendship. Serena’s impulse had been to keep Becky far away from her house hunting, but she’d gone and recommended Natalie to one of Becky’s current stepkids, and it had gotten back to Becky. So now, unless she could be very clever about the timing, Becky Lofthouse-Colby-Russo accompanied Serena whenever she and Natalie looked for Serena’s ideal home.
“I don’t understand why you won’t even look outside the Loop,” Becky said, far from the first time. The Loop was a freeway that circled Houston’s downtown. Being outside it meant a more suburban and a more traffic-intensive lifestyle that made Serena shudder to imagine it.
“You do, too. You just don’t believe I know what I want.”
“We never lived inside the Loop.”
“I did, with Dad and Tennessee.”
“Tennessee,” her mom snorted. It hadn’t been a stretch at all for Serena to bitch about Tennessee.
“And him and Fran, for that matter; before Fran had Jonas, he still lived in West U.” Between them over the years since their divorce, Serena’s parents had introduced her to seven stepparents, but Jonas was her only half-sibling, so Fran was the only stepparent she actively kept in touch with.
“That wasn’t a house, it was a hovel.”
“It was just small.”
“Too small for kids.”
“Too small for a baby, that’s why they moved. But it was fine for me. I liked it.”
“Well, I didn’t. Every time I picked you up it took forty-five minutes just to get back on the freeway.”
Serena laughed. “Well, your bad luck that as soon as I learned to drive, they moved. Let it go, Mom. I want to live in Montrose, and I’m going to live in Montrose, and Natalie said today’s houses are maybe perfect.”
“Well, if you’re trusting to her judgment. She just wants her commission.”
There was only so much laughing at her mom’s attitude Serena could handle, and it wasn’t good to hit the limit before they’d even set foot in a property.
Serena liked the first place, even though Becky said its energies were blocked by the front door to driveway configuration. She didn’t quite like it enough to sign up for a lifetime of her mom’s mentioning the front door/driveway thing, but it appealed. The second place had residents who refused to let them in because they didn’t think their landlord gave them enough notice of the showing (only fourteen instead of their requested twenty-four hours).
“Anyway, it looked like the whole place is carpeted. That’s terrible for your allergies, Serena. Imagine if they have cats, all those years of dander trapped in the fibers. You’d be sick every day.”
“I could replace the carpets.”
“And you want to start by incurring those kinds of expenses? You know, Ridley and Neera are making a point of looking for newer construction. There are so many pitfalls about older houses.”
Ridley was Becky’s oldest stepkid. Serena didn’t really know any of the Three Rs (she’d been in college when Becky married Ridley, Regina, and Rufus Russo’s dad Zane), but she’d observed them growing up, going to college, and getting married via her mom’s Facebook feed. So many pictures of the happy family, Becky right in the middle of them all. Sometimes Zane even called Serena’s mom ‘Rebecca’ so he could include her in his list of ‘Beloved Rs.’ Zane liked to post status updates along the ‘one of the Beloved Rs baked my favorite muffins for breakfast! I am blessed!’ lines.
Still, it might have been excessively petty of Serena to skip Ridley and Neera’s wedding reception. It was three days after the Joey break-up and she’d exaggerated a work crisis to get away. Allowing Becky to stickle-burr herself to house hunting was penance she had to pay, but Serena regretted making Natalie pay alongside her.
Natalie kept on her calm collected professional face. “I’m so glad that Neera and Ridley are finding some good options. I think we’re really closing in on the perfect location for them. Good schools, too.”
Becky was flustered. “Schools?”
“I hope I didn’t let a cat out of the bag! Neera mentioned it was important to them, but that’s all I know. Probably she’s just looking to the future,” Natalie said, even offering a reassuring pat to Becky’s arm.
Great. Just what Serena needed after all the ‘proud mama of the groom!’ photos: Ridley to have a kid who would decide forevermore what Becky’s grandmother name would be. They’d probably settle on ‘Beloved Granny R’ or something, and when Serena had children they’d be stuck with the same name.
Two houses later (former duplex badly remodeled to single-family; roof with missing tiles and water-stained ceilings), Becky had to leave to meet Zane for their couples meditation class.
“I’ll email you some of the places that were too small for Ridley; they might be just the ticket for you. It would be so nice if you moved out closer to them so we could all visit more easily.”
“Bye, Mom.” Sometimes Serena was really really excellent at restraint.
“Natalie,” Becky said, offering the briefest of handshakes.
“Lovely to see you again, Becky.”
Serena waited until Becky’s car was around the corner before giving in to the growl that had been building for hours.
Nat was shaking her head. “I shouldn’t laugh. It’s terrible of me to laugh.”
“Better to laugh than scream. My throat hurts now.”
“Come on, she’s been worse.”
“That’s no consolation.”
“Remember when she first saw our apartment senior year?”
“I’ve blocked that out.”
“She tried to give you Regina’s old princess bed.”
“Regina was fifteen! Why was there still a princess bed in their attic even?”
“I know. Craigslist that shit already, right?”
“Don�
��t give it to your twenty-one year old daughter, anyway.”
“‘We’re making room for some of my stuff in Zane’s house,’” Natalie mimicked.
“Like you didn’t snag the triple-mirror vanity table for yourself.”
“I felt like the fanciest girl in all the land every time I sat there.” Natalie laughed, nudging Serena. “You were so jealous but you wouldn’t say anything in case it meant you appreciated Regina’s castoffs.”
“Was not.”
“Was too.”
“Was not, shut up.” But Serena was grinning again, and finally leaned back against Natalie’s car with a sigh. “Okay, so do you have more for today, or are we done?”
“Sorry, I’ve got another appointment, but I’ll send you some listings to look at tonight.”
“No rush. Mom’s readily available for the next four days, so I may not look again until Thursday.”
Natalie put on her mock-scolding voice. “Cynic. You’ll change your mind when you get home and Joey is haunting the hallway.”
“Ha! I’ll have to text Cammie to send the boys out for an epic jousting match, that’ll scare him.”
“Thank goodness they haven’t grown out of their knights and squires phase.”
“I’m grateful every day.” And petty. Every day, petty. Serena really needed to rein that in. Sometime. Soon.
Chapter Three
Over the rest of the weekend, Serena was twice forced into evasive maneuvers to keep from having to talk to Joey; it annoyed her even though one retreat had led her to a thrift shop where she’d found a box of nearly perfect tangerine Fiesta-ware serving pieces. They’d go perfectly with the spice-hued dishes she’d been collecting for years.
And on Monday morning her landlady denied Serena’s proposed three-month extension of her lease.
“You’d think she’d take any excuse to keep ignoring the broken bathroom door,” complained Serena. She’d run into Janice in the Lanigan parking lot, and was feeling free to vent expansively as they headed inside.
“Did she explain why?”
“Supposedly scummy-butt apartments are so desirable she’s turning people away. But she said I could renew for the full year with only a seven percent rent increase.”
“Did you tell her to stick her seven percent where the sun don’t shine?”
“No, I ignored her.”
“Toots.”
Her gut reaction had been a flat refusal, but she was scared to close that door. “Well, what if I can’t find a place to buy? It’s not that I don’t need out of that apartment. But I don’t want to rent anywhere at all. I’ve been saving and saving for so long and I swore to myself I’d own my own house when I was thirty.”
“You’ve only been thirty for like a week, Toots.”
“And if I sign a year lease, I’ll be thirty-one before I’m out of it.” The very thought of it was enough to curdle everything in her stomach. She couldn’t fail to get her house. She just couldn’t. “Nope. My only options are to buy something now, or hope she’ll change her mind. I could put up with Joey and the bugs and the door and all, if she’d give me a few more months to buy something.”
Janice shook her head. “Or slacken up on the reins a little and admit there’s no law you have to buy now, and find someplace decent to rent for another year.”
Janice was right. Serena knew she was right. But admitting it was such a reversal of all the plans she’d made. Practically her whole life, the roofs over Serena’s head had felt temporary. No matter if her dad moved her familiar old iron bed from house to house, no matter if her mom let her chose the paint color for every new bedroom, Serena knew that sooner or later, she’d be sleeping elsewhere. If not for custody reasons, then because one of her parents was divorcing or remarrying. Every new or newly-dead relationship meant someone was about to move, and that someone was usually Serena.
So all through her twenties she’d put up with weirdo roommates and her landlady’s reluctance to schedule repairs and Joey down the hall and any number of inconveniences and indignities, with one goal and one goal only in mind: saving for that down payment. Serena wanted her own house. Her very own, all hers, no sharing, no negotiating, no noisy neighbors or desperately in love or desperately unhappy parents, none of that. And her twenties were over, so it was time. Serena was going to buy a house. Hell and high water could try in vain to stop her.
“Hey, Serena, hold up,” Dillon said behind her. Serena actually bit her tongue when she realized she’d recognized the warm tenor voice before seeing who’d greeted her. The pain was meant as a sharp reprimand to her libido, but it just made her more aware of her skittery nerve endings.
“Oh! Hey. Good morning. Ready to start?” He was wearing the same slate blue jacket and carrying a different messenger bag. The fast once-over he gave her had Serena happy she’d worn her favorite kicky orange patterned skirt with sleek black top and tights. Not for him. Just because it made her feel strong and vibrant and competent. If the new guy liked it, that was no skin off her nose.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He hitched up his shoulder strap and turned to Janice. “Dillon Hamilton.”
“Our new copy guy,” Serena added. “Janice is the operations guru. She knows everything.”
“Including where to bury the bodies,” Janice agreed.
“Got it. First rule of the new job: don’t make Janice mad.”
“Oh, I like him. Good call,” Janice told Serena.
They all moved into the waiting elevator, Dillon hanging a half step back until Janice and Serena preceded him. Serena absolutely did not sway her hips as she stepped forward. Not much, anyway.
“You live far from here?” Janice asked.
“Me?”
“Yes, Toots, you. I know where Serena lives.”
“Right. Sure. In the Heights. I bought my sister’s townhouse when they moved to the suburbs.”
“Near Serena and Joey then.”
“Joey?”
“I don’t live with Joey,” Serena said, not that she ought to be clarifying. And not that Janice should be telling this guy she’d barely met where Serena lived.
“Joey works here, too?” Dillon’s eyes weren’t quite as blue in the elevator’s dismal lighting, but that also could have been because of the satin chrome walls. Serena knew her own reflection in their surface was often duller than expected. Probably her skirt read almost as sienna, to Dillon. Not that it mattered.
“No, we just live in the same building. But not for long.”
“She’s looking for a house,” Janice said.
“And since we’re sharing, Janice lives on the far side of downtown, and my dad is in Baytown and Miguel is in Garden Oaks and Emily from HR is probably way out in a suburb somewhere, but I’m not sure where,” Serena said, shooting Janice a look that even in the dim elevator light ought to be clear enough.
“Miguel doesn’t live in Garden Oaks,” Janice told her, stepping into the well-lit reception area as if she’d never seen a chiding look in her life.
“He doesn’t? Oh, Miguel’s the production manager, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon,” Serena explained to Dillon.
“Nope. He was just staying there when his mom got sick. She’s better now so he’s back in Sixth Ward at his place.”
“Aw. That’s sweet.”
Janice rolled her eyes. “I’ll do you a favor, Toots, and never tell him you said that. Noon?”
“Noon,” Serena confirmed as Janice took off towards her office. She turned to Dillon. “Do you know where Emily from HR’s office is?”
“The suburbs?”
She laughed. “Not quite. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour on the way.”
“Show me everything.”
Had that been suggestive? Serena couldn’t decide. Possibly Dillon was a bit nervous, between his faux-pas after the interview and first day jitters. She decided to ignore it, instead detailing the members of her team and Philip’s as well. Anica usually separated them into two distinct
groups, but they crossed over depending on what jobs were to hand.
They moved down the main corridor, Serena pointing out various offices and keeping to herself any wayward thoughts. Like whether Dillon had been flirty with Janice, or if he just projected an extroverted kind of easy charm. She stopped at the lunchroom.
“Did you bring anything to eat?”
“A sandwich,” Dillon said, patting his messenger bag.
“Well, there are plenty of places to grab something nearby, if you want. And a roach coach shows up outside the main dock at nine forty-five each morning, so you can always grab something from there.”
“Does it have anything edible?”
She shrugged. “It’s not terrible. Chips and candy bars and drinks, plus some heated things. Tacos, fries, burgers.”
“Decent burgers?”
“Nothing I would touch with a ten-foot anti-salmonella pole, but you’re welcome to try for yourself.”
Leaning against the counter, Dillon nodded at the coffee pot. “I’ll be cautious. Is there a coffee fund or anything?”
She showed him the cabinet of sugars and stir sticks. “All courtesy of Lanigan Printing and Advertising. I’m told it’s good enough—well, unless you’re very picky—and all you have to provide is your own mug. I have a couple here if you want to borrow for now.”
“Thanks. You’re making this place more and more appealing by the moment.”
“I live to serve. Lanigan, that is.” Serena was going to have to bite her tongue again. And Dillon really needed to stop with the blue-eyed smile. She tapped the chart taped inside the cabinet door. “If you’re going to drink the coffee, you have to go on the coffee list. They rotate weeks to keep the coffee maker clean and the pot full. If you screw up you have to do two weeks in a row. Do you want to just put your name in place of Margaret’s?”
Rocket Man Page 3