“Number one, I grew up over the hill from the valley. Number two, you’d need to meet my parents to get the answer to that question. Not that I’m saying you have to meet them,” she says quickly.
“I’d like to.” I don’t bother worrying about how that sounds. What the hell. “You’ve painted a real picture in my mind, and I need to see if they live up to the hype.”
She laughs. “Fine. But fair warning: It’s going to get strange.”
She kicks off her flip-flops and puts her bare feet up on my dashboard. “What’s this car of yours get—six, seven miles per gallon?”
“Judge much? And don’t talk crap about the SUV.”
“You planning on carting around a small village? Why do you need so much room?”
“A man needs his space.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Your little foreign car couldn’t even make it over a mountain. That thing’s a tin can.”
Her cheeks dimple as she frowns. “It does fine. Sort of.”
“Uh-huh. I doubt I’d even fit in it.”
She catches me looking at her toes, which she wiggles.
“Does this bother you?” She wiggles them harder. For some reason she loves to rile me up, and I have no intention of indulging her.
“Not at all. Your feet are cute.”
She laughs. “You’re such a bad liar. You totally hate that I have them up here. Want me to take them down?”
I’ve decided not to take her taunting as a challenge, but more as a test. She’s trying to gauge how rigid I am, how far she can push me. I’m a lot less anal than she thinks I am, though. I only want her to take them down because they’re turning me on.
“They’re fine where they are.”
She taps her foot along to the music, and we sit alone with our thoughts for a while.
“How’s Lizzie dealing with Ryan coming back this summer?” I ask. “That whole situation is weird.”
“You should probably ask her yourself.”
“I did, but she said she’s fine with it. And I don’t believe her.”
She holds her hand out the window to feel the air.
“Yeah, she’s saying the same thing to me. Jude’s pretty determined, though. He really wants her to move in, and I think she will.”
I frown. “It makes me nervous. I like Jude, but he’s so . . .”
“Intense?”
“Exactly.”
“Lizzie’s a big girl. I had my doubts too, at first. But he really loves her.”
“I know he does. But that isn’t always enough.”
“True. But she’ll be okay. She’s tough,” she says, looking at me.
“Do you think I’m being overbearing again?”
“No, I think you’re a very good big brother.”
She’s looking at me approvingly, with a hint of mischief in her eyes, and I want to pull the car over to a secluded spot. Fantasizing about all the things I could do to her in this SUV gets me all the way to Sacramento.
The highway is flanked by huge boulders and towering trees as we get close to Lake Tahoe’s north shore. It’s nice to be surrounded by nature; makes me feel at home.
Eventually, we pass rustic lodges that look like chalets and small stores catering to tourists and skiers. And then we arrive at Keller’s place and Sam’s face becomes animated, her eyes blinking faster, her mouth dropping open.
“This isn’t a cabin; it’s a fucking hotel.”
I have to agree. Keller’s parents’ getaway is easily ten thousand square feet on what looks like a few acres of property. My parents’ house could fit inside five times. It’s constructed in natural pine and stone to make it look quaint despite its enormousness.
Keller comes outside wearing Top-Siders with no socks, pink Chubbies, and a white polo shirt. His sunglasses are aviators, his hair gelled to perfection. Everything on him has a tasteful but expensive logo, and he gives the impression that he stepped off a yacht filled with supermodels. He immediately scans Sam up and down. I want to like this guy, but he makes it so difficult.
Keller shakes my hand. “Hey man, glad you found it.”
“Hard to miss it,” I say, but with a smile. “This is Sam. Sam, Keller.”
“Nice to meet you,” Keller says, shaking Sam’s hand a little too long.
“Thanks for inviting us.” She sounds a little nervous, which surprises me. Maybe Sam’s not any more comfortable with all of this than I am.
Keller shows us around the house, which is like an idealized version of a rustic cabin—including twenty-foot-high glass windows that make you feel surrounded by the woods. Except most cabins don’t come with a grand piano. It is, without a doubt, a helluva place. I tune out how much the furniture alone must have cost and enjoy it.
Keller takes us up and shows us our bedroom—one of the seven in this house. Two other couples besides Keller have already claimed their rooms, so that makes eight of us in all.
“Holy shit,” Sam says closing the door. “This place has probably been featured in a magazine.”
“No doubt.” I move our bags to the closet while she takes a tour of the room. There is a beautiful stone fireplace that she’s eager to try out, and an attached bathroom with a huge tub that I want to get her in later.
She kicks off her shoes and flops on the bed. “Do we need to get downstairs right now?”
“We can rest for a while.” I lay down next to Sam and place my hand on her stomach. “Or whatever.”
She leans over and kisses me, and it feels warm and cozy on this big bed, with its fluffy down comforter. As things start to turn serious, there’s a knock on the door.
“Hey,” Keller says from the other side. “Let me introduce you guys to everyone else.”
“Everyone else” includes Eli and his date, Rebecca. She’s built like a gymnast, which makes her a good match for Eli’s short, stocky frame. Their relationship doesn’t seem all that casual either, judging by the way Eli keeps one hand on her hip at all times, like he doesn’t want to lose track of her.
Rajiv and his girlfriend, Alyssa, are here, too. I don’t know Rajiv well, but we’ve worked on one project together, and he’s a smart guy. He and Alyssa seem tight with Keller—trading inside jokes the rest of us don’t understand—so they must hang out outside of work.
I start to wonder whether Keller came alone when Andrea walks in. In her jeans and T-shirt, she looks younger than she does at work. Keller pulls her in to his side and slides his hand to her ass. I don’t hide my surprise all that well.
“You know Andrea, obviously, since the two of you are buddies.” Keller’s smirk is proprietary and slick.
“Andrea, this is Sam,” I say, as Andrea pastes on a polite smile.
She and Sam exchange pleasantries, but I don’t think it’s my imagination that Andrea is sizing Sam up visually and mentally. Sam seems to be doing the same, obviously picking up on the competitive vibe Keller is trying to manufacture.
“Will you show us around the property?” Sam asks, cutting the tension.
We file outside, Keller in the lead. We walk past a huge pool and Jacuzzi to a manicured garden. Beyond that is the tree line.
“Did your mom choose these flowers? They’re pretty.” Sam touches a purple lavender petal.
Keller shrugs. “No, but her gardener did.”
Andrea scans the grounds. “This is a great place. Did you come here as a kid?”
“Sometimes. It’s better in the snow,” Keller says. “But spring’s okay, too.”
Rajiv catches up to us. “We still going rafting tomorrow?”
“Damn straight,” Keller says, and then turns to me. “You’re coming, right?”
I look at Sam to gauge her interest.
She smiles, but it’s a nervous one. “I’m more of a land mammal, but I’m game if you are.”
“You’ll be fine,” Keller says, not bothering to look at her.
Sam’s eyes dart to Keller, but she doesn’t say anything. She is on
her best behavior—probably because we’re here with people I work with. I appreciate the effort, but I kind of miss her feistier side.
I decide to take the lead a bit. “Sure, that would be fun. I’ve been a few times, and I’ll make sure we take it easy.”
I squeeze Sam’s hand for reassurance. Andrea follows the gesture with her eyes.
“Alright, Grandpa, you can do the bunny rapids. I’ll be in the big kids’ raft.” Keller laughs at his joke—a booming, animalistic sound that he probably thinks makes him the life of the party.
Used to be that I found women’s friendships bizarre. No one is more critical of a woman than her best female friends. But men are equally stupid, because we like to give each other shit constantly and insult each other’s manliness. Some guys do this more than others, though, and don’t know where to draw the line. Keller is definitely one of those. He’s the kid that bullied someone one too many times and got punched in the face, the guy that went a little too far with the frat jokes in college, and now the man that pisses too hard on his territory. But Keller has money, so he’ll probably skate by just fine with that attitude. Maybe it even helps in his world. All I know is that, if Keller were a friend and not a work colleague, I would have already knocked him on his ass.
Eventually, we head back to the house, where Rajiv and Alyssa announce that they bought groceries on the way up and are making dinner: curry, and something called dal, which I’ve never had.
“Ooh, I want to learn how to make that,” Sam says.
“Go for it. I’ll just hang out.” I give her a kiss and she disappears into the kitchen.
“Holy crap, that oven!” I hear her say, which makes me smile. There’s my girl.
That thought brings me up short.
I don’t have much time to ponder it though, because Andrea sits down next to me. Everyone else is either still outside or in the kitchen with Rajiv, so it’s only the two of us. I try not to squirm or scooch over because I know the brown leather I’m sitting on will squeak underneath me and echo off these high ceilings. It’s like a freaking cathedral in here.
“Sam seems nice,” Andrea says.
“She is.”
“You never told me you had a girlfriend.”
I admire that she’s cutting to the chase more quickly than I expected. Or it could be the big empty wine glass she’s holding that’s doing the talking.
Andrea tries to smile, but her lips remain tense and closed. “You must have thought I was an idiot bringing you so many donuts.” She puts her hand on her forehead, like she’s checking herself for a fever. I don’t think she meant to be that honest.
“Not at all. That was sweet. I’m sorry if I made it seem like . . .” My gut is clenching, my discomfort is high. I almost welcome the familiarity of this guilt. Almost.
I check behind me to make sure we’re still alone.
Andrea shakes her head. “No. Of course you’d have a girlfriend. I should have assumed.” Her face is turning pink.
“I haven’t been dating Sam that long. She’s not my girlfriend . . . we’re . . . well it’s complicated.” And why I’m explaining this, I have no idea. I wish I had an ejector seat that would vault me out the window.
“It doesn’t look that complicated,” she says.
Then, the air shifts behind me, I sense someone standing there, and I pray it’s not who I think it is.
“I was coming to tell you dinner won’t be too long,” Sam says very, very quietly.
I turn to smile at her. “Great. Is that cinnamon I smell?”
“I’m going to go help Rajiv,” she says, stepping backward. Her exit is so hasty I’m surprised it doesn’t leave a skid mark.
“I’m sorry,” Andrea says when Sam is gone. “We upset her.”
“I’ll explain. It’ll be fine.” I hope.
Andrea tugs at the bottom of her sweater and nods her head. She seems young in this moment, probably because she’s feeling awkward—like I am.
“Why Keller?” I blurt out, as if I haven’t dug myself into a deep enough hole already. I realize too late that Andrea might read more into my question than I meant her to. My concern for her is out of friendship, not interest. Bad habit of mine, to want to fix everything for everyone.
She shrugs. “Can’t always get who we want. And he pursued me. It seemed like it could be fun.”
“Ah. Fair enough.” I glance toward the kitchen. “I better go talk to Sam.”
I leave Andrea on the couch, knowing she and I overstepped ourselves in that conversation. Which makes me wonder how much explaining and groveling I’ll need to do tonight when Sam and I are alone.
Chapter 17: Sam
Still 64 Days Left
I try not to stare at Andrea as she eats, but I can’t help it. She takes small, dainty bites that leave her face pristine. Her fork never clanks against the plate, she doesn’t spill anything on the tablecloth. She doesn’t laugh too loudly, or make any asinine remarks. She doesn’t even roll her eyes when her dipshit of a boyfriend makes his hundredth braggy remark of the night. Of course not. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a secret school for rich girls that teaches this shit.
My thoughts are so bitter, and so obnoxious, that I actually have to laugh out loud at myself. It’s not Andrea’s fault that she’s perfect for Jeff. He’d swipe right on her profile, for sure. But then again he came looking for me, so maybe he doesn’t agree. After all, we started dating after he met her.
Jeff smiles at me again, like he’s trying to make up with me telepathically. Too bad I’m not one to go quietly. I think we’re going to need a good old-fashioned ball-busting fight to get this one smoothed over. Why did he go out of his way to tell Andrea I’m not his girlfriend? Is he keeping her on the back burner for after I leave? That’s doesn’t seem like Jeff’s MO; he’s nothing if not honest—blunt, even. And he didn’t say anything untrue. I’m not his girlfriend, and I probably don’t have any right to feel possessive or jealous.
Funny how that doesn’t matter one frickin’ bit.
I put my hand on his, and he looks down in surprise and gives it a squeeze. I may be mad at him, but I still want to touch him.
Later, I mouth to him, and he nods.
“So while you were making dinner, I was down in the wine cellar,” Keller announces to the table. “We can head into the game room after this and get shitfaced.”
“I’m watching Die Hard,” Eli says. “Keller’s TV is seventy-five inches.”
Someone’s compensating for something.
I want to lean over and whisper this to Jeff, but I’m not totally sure how he feels about Keller. I think I sensed irritation earlier, but they do work together. So I judge mentally instead. Because, seriously, Keller’s ego is bigger than that TV.
Once we’re settled in the game room, Eli starts the movie, which is old-school action at its best. I shove another handful of popcorn in as I watch Bruce walk barefoot on glass.
“Ahh. No, no, no!” Eli’s girlfriend, Rebecca, says, covering her eyes.
“Nice. You’ve never seen this.” I hand her the popcorn.
“No. It’s kind of terrible.”
“And awesome, right?” Eli says. He tries to be a bro like Keller, but he doesn’t seem to have a jaded bone in his body. He praised Rajiv’s dinner for ten minutes straight, he almost hugged this TV, and he looked at me like Mother Teresa when I made the popcorn. Eli appreciates the simple things, and that usually says good things about someone.
Eli turns and smiles at Rebecca as he dips his hand in the popcorn bowl. Jeff said Eli doesn’t do relationships, but I’m guessing that’s all male posturing crap, because Eli’s looking at Rebecca like he’d give his left testicle for her to be his girlfriend.
“Come get a shot of Patrón,” Keller shouts from the pool table on the other side of the room. And yes, the room is that big that raising his voice is required. Besides the pool table and this absurd TV, there’s another TV devoted to game systems—plural. There’s also a min
ibar in the corner, a foosball table, and a chess set that looks suspiciously like real marble.
Eli gets up and pauses the movie. “I’ll go grab some for us.”
“I’m okay,” I say.
Jeff holds up his beer. “Me too.”
“Seriously?” Keller yells a minute later. “Why aren’t you two drinking?”
Here it comes. That lovely moment when I tell someone I don’t drink, and they look at me like I’m crazy. Then they assume I’m an alcoholic—because there could be no other rational reason in their minds—and I either decide to let them believe that, to tell them a half truth, or, God forbid, to tell them the story about my uncle getting killed by a drunk driver. That always livens up the party. Really, what I want to tell them is that people do and say stupid, stupid things when they drink, and I don’t want to be a stupid person.
Instead, Jeff speaks first. “What do you care?”
“I didn’t bust open the good stuff for no reason,” Keller says, crossing the room.
“More for you.” Jeff salutes with his bottle.
But Keller isn’t satisfied. “Who the fuck drinks beer? Don’t be a pussy, Price.”
My tolerance for bullshit isn’t high on the best of days; with this guy, it’s at an all-time low. Still, I know enough guy code to understand that Jeff would not appreciate me jumping in at this point.
“Are you done crying? We have a movie to watch,” Jeff says.
“What about your girl? She might want a shot even if you can’t handle it.”
I shake my head. “I’m good. I don’t drink, actually.”
Keller’s eyebrows arch sky high. “Wow. You two fucking deserve each other.” He shoots back his tequila like the clichéd overgrown frat boy he is. His pointy nose is red, so he’s probably knocked back a few already. “Enjoy the movie. And my TV.”
And the demon inside me—she slips right on out, without me thinking or being aware of her presence. She does that sometimes when I’m not paying her enough attention. “Oh, I am enjoying the TV. It’s so Fahrenheit 451.”
“I get that reference. I’m not an idiot,” Keller says.
I wink at him. “That goes without saying.” Shit, shit. Be gone, demon! I don’t look over at Jeff in case he’s getting mad at me.
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