Cocky Best Friend: Samantha Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 21)

by Faleena Hopkins

  “Yeah, but you can still dance. She couldn’t. If Ines gets pregnant, that would be it for the run. They’d have to find another Caroline—is that the new character’s name?” He doesn’t answer, so I continue, “And you said it yourself, she’s very good.”

  He’s silent for a long time. I sit here in the darkness with him, listening to his breathing as the distant noise hums. “It doesn’t feel right,” he finally sighs and repeats a tormented, “It just doesn’t feel right, Sam.”

  The bedroom door opens and Steven walks out. He is rubbing his eyes but it’s an act. I can tell he’s faking it, has been awake, unsuccessfully trying to listen to this conversation. “Is that Logan?”

  “He’s in China and things are getting a little crazy there. You’ve heard the news.”

  I don’t know why I just lied and made this seem like a political-unrest phone call. I’m sure my boyfriend would love to hear how the childhood friend I talk to every Monday is having troubles with his girlfriend. Complete inner monologue sarcasm intended.

  Negotiating the ego of a guy like Steven isn’t easy, but I’m fine with that. I do it enough with the men in my family. He’s very successful and handsome and knows it. I love his confidence.

  I do.

  But I haven’t been willing to let go of my friendship with Logan. And I don’t like that he wants me to.

  Does anybody like to be controlled? I might not be as rebellious as Lexi, but I’m a Cocker. We might give things up, even control sometimes, but we do so willingly.

  Don’t bind this mind.

  This life.

  This heart.

  Steven reaches into the fridge and rummages around, producing nothing as he closes the door again. Logan must’ve heard his voice because he’s gone silent, and his breathing is different.

  “You coming back to bed? I missed you in there.” He slides his hand up my leg and I smile.

  “I shouldn’t have called you with this,” Logan mutters.

  My heart flutters with fear that he’s about to hang up. I reach out to touch Steven’s bare muscles and whisper, “I will be right in. Just give me another moment.”

  He’s reticent, but would never press the issue too hard. It might appear to come from weakness and insecurity, two things he can’t admit to having like every other human on the planet.

  Lexi often teases me about how I go on and on and on about Steven. I deny it, but she’s right. I adore him, and the feelings are mutual. But I want to be here for Logan.

  Kids with Ines. Wow.

  The bedroom door clicks and I ask, “Still there?”

  “Is he at your place?”

  “No. I’m over here. At his place. He wants me to move in.”

  Who knows why I said it.

  The information vomited out.

  It had its own mind.

  “Great,” Logan mutters with zero enthusiasm. “Are you going to? That’s a big step.”

  “You live with your girlfriend.”

  “We do a show five times a week, it’s different.”

  “Probably more grueling.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters.

  Silence.

  “Logan, you always said you wanted a big family,” I offer, but my heart is thumping hard. “So, why don’t you just give her what she wants?”

  “Sam…” I can see him rubbing his face, because that’s exactly what he would do at this moment. It makes me wonder if he still looks the same. Does he have a beard? Does the production make him shave his strong jaw? Has he broadened out as the years have passed? Are his eyes as dead as mine?

  Why did I just think that?

  My eyes are just fine.

  I’m happy.

  “You know what I think?” I ask, rinsing my water glass and placing it in the dishwasher. “This is one of the most important decisions you could ever make and you need to be very careful.”

  He ruefully laughs, “Are you saying that to me or to you?”

  “Goodnight Logan.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Talk next Monday.”

  “Okay.”

  I listen to him hanging up, and stand here with the phone to my ear for a long, long time.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Logan

  “You don’t want to have children with me,” Ines snaps. She’s back at her suitcase hoping I’ll stop her. I guess I should, and I would, if I really loved her. Living with her, dancing and singing with her, has made me grow. Especially since she’s from another country and culture. It expanded my mind and what I thought I was capable of.

  But she’s not Sam.

  I might be the dumbest guy who ever walked this earth. I should grab that suitcase and put it back in her closet. I should take her in my arms and tell her to call the friend who said, “You can stay with me as long as you need, Ines.” I should get ready for Turkey, where we arrive three weeks from now. I should continue to embrace this bohemian life and stop thinking about the blonde who teaches kids to dance in a medium-sized city back in still-puritanical America where you can’t show nudity in a film, but violence is acceptable.

  “Ines, I’ve been thinking about it, and it would be wrong to have children when I feel like this. We didn’t think we would last anyway. You always tell me that I’m too provincial for you.”

  Ines slams her polka-dotted bra into the suitcase. “That was in the beginning. Before I fell in love with you!”

  I push off the wall and take a deep breath. She paces in a circle like she wants to escape, but rushes into my arms instead. Embracing her, I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

  She shoves me away, eyes shooting rockets of pain. “Get away from me. Go somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

  “You’re going to see me at the performance tonight.”

  Veins pop as she shouts, “GET OUT!”

  Chewing the inside of my lip, I make long strides to the door. She screams things in French that I don’t have to speak the language to understand.

  “I’m really sorry,” I firmly say while meeting her eyes. I have to duck away from the high-heel flying at my forehead. It hits the door as I close it and walk down the carpeted hallway of our small apartment in Hong Kong.

  The cramped sidewalk is a relief.

  So easy to get lost with this population. I keep my chin down and let the flow guide the way.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Logan

  Sunday

  Guilford taps on my dressing room door that’s open a crack.

  I turn around, curious why he’s coming to talk to me after the show.

  I did my best out there, didn’t allow myself to run on automatic just because Ines wouldn’t look at me. The way I figure it, all I have is the integrity to my own standards.

  Those people paid for tickets.

  I’m not going to phone it in just because there’s drama in my personal life.

  They deserve better than that.

  When I step onstage, I give my all.

  If she doesn’t want to do the same, that’s on her.

  But her treatment did nothing to make me doubt our break up.

  I’m sure our director has heard the gossip, so I’m preparing to tell him that I can still go on with the shows despite the fact our relationship is severed.

  Guilford interrupts my planned launch into defensiveness. “Logan, we’ve lost Dieter. He’s quitting.” Gracefully touching one of my costumes that’s hanging from the rack by my door, he goes on to explain, “I wasn’t here when Asher left the production, as you know, but if I had been I would never have cast an outsider and started from scratch. Not when I had you.” He props himself on a stool, more leaning against it than on it, one of his feet up for balance on the rung. “I want you to take the lead.”

  The contrast of being offered the lead role in one area of my life on the same day I quit another, makes me stare at him.

  Proud at rendering me speechless, Guilford’s e
yes sparkle. “You’re surprised. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why you haven’t asked for the opportunity. I have to think you’re used to settling for less than you deserve.” He tilts his head, curious. “Have you not noticed how much you shine during your understudy performances? How the level of applause is louder than when Dieter performs?”

  “I don’t gauge things like that.” With a frown, I add, “I lose myself in what I’m doing, pretend I’m really there.”

  “Didn’t Ines point it out, the applause?”

  “No.”

  He nods, thoughtful as he walks toward my door. “I think your time of being the best friend is over. Rise and take your position as the lead in my production.” He disappears.

  His statement ricochets.

  Not just in the room.

  In my soul.

  If he hadn’t said it exactly like that, it might not have struck this chord in me. But he did say it. And now I’m pulling down the postcards I taped as a frame around my mirror from all of the countries we’ve played at. My civilian clothes get shoved into my leather bag with them. I toss the makeup in the trash. Leave behind my costumes for the next guy.

  Walking up the dark hallway backstage, I rap on the doors of my cast members, my friends, family away from home, hurriedly barking, “Guys, I’m leaving the show!”

  Door after door is flung open by shocked hands.

  Everyone is shouting, “Logan’s leaving?” “Why?” “You can’t be serious. Logan, is it true?”

  Guilford spins around in his chair in the theater office, eyebrows rising as he sees the crowd with me, its ringleader. “What’s this?”

  “I wanted to tell all of you at once, because you all mean so much to me. I can’t possibly scratch the surface of how grateful I am to know you. Guilford, thank you for offering me the lead.” This news sends titters throughout the other cast members. I raise my voice to regain their attention. “But I have to turn it down. I’m in love with a girl back in America. I can’t ignore that anymore. And I can’t let her ignore it, either.”

  Guilford stands up, his stance indignant. “You are giving up the opportunity of a lifetime for love?”

  I cock an eyebrow and smirk, “Love is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  My fellow cast breaks out in cheers and as I make my way through the throng, I hug every single fucking one of them. Tears aren’t held back. Smiles aren’t either. Even Guilford finally has one on his face as he shouts after me through cupped hands, “This is the exit of a star, Logan!”

  I lock eyes with Ines as she hugs her robe to her, standing far back from the crowd.

  She shakes her head.

  I nod mine once, silently communicating that she was right all along. My heart belonged to someone else. “I’m sorry.”

  She waves with sad eyes, and I read her lips saying, “Just go.”

  Johan and Terrence walk out with me, both insisting I promise I’ll talk to them often. “You did it for her!”

  I hug them before I jump into a cab that stops the second I raise my hand. “When I say I promise I’m going to keep in touch, you guys know I mean it.”

  They grin as I close the door. The cab pulls away from the curb and my friends who’ve been through so much with me, hit its trunk, and start running on either side. Terrence does a split-leap and nearly runs into a lamp post. We all crackup as the cab increases its speed and merges with traffic, leaving them behind.

  I dial Samantha, and after two rings she answers, “This is a surprise, Logan. It’s Sunday.”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Packing. You got me worried.”

  “What are you packing for?”

  “Logan, you’ve never called me on any day other than a Monday for almost two years.”

  “Are you going on vacation? Just away for the weekend, or for a long time, or what?”

  There’s an uncomfortably long pause before she says, “I told you Steven wanted me to move in with him.”

  My chest explodes, and it gets worse as I hear Lexi in the background saying, “I didn’t realize how much stuff you had!”

  Hoarse and urgent, I shout, “Samantha, don’t do anything until I get there. Just stay right where you are!”

  “What? Wait, are you in Georgia?”

  “I’m in Hong Kong.” Rubbing my forehead at how long these flights take to get me from here to her, I say, “Remember when you asked me to promise to call you every Monday? And I didn’t want to? But I did it.”

  She’s confused and quiet. “Yes.”

  “I’m asking something of you now. Don’t move in with this guy yet. I’m coming back to Atlanta because I want to say something to you. Wait for me.”

  “You’re flying back here to say something to me?”

  “Wait for me,” I repeat. “Samantha, promise me. Promise you’ll wait!”

  Lexi begins to say something, but Sam hushes her and returns to the phone. “I’ll wait.”

  My heart is pounding as I nod and realize she can’t see me nodding, but my throat feels strangled so it takes me a second to choke out, “I’ll see you Monday.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Logan

  Monday

  With the travel and time-zone difference, jet lag owns me. I brushed my teeth on the plane, and called for a car the moment I got off of it, grateful the driver is the quiet type.

  Johan said he’d ship my things. I’ve got the leather bag I left the theater with, and that’s it.

  If this driver was rattling away it would sap what’s left of my energy. How the fuck am I going to talk my best friend out of the relationship she’s in?

  It’s probably not appropriate, but I’m ready to fight the guy if I need to. I’m going to proclaim my love for her right in his living room if that’s what it takes.

  I texted her to say that we landed, asked where I can find her.

  Rubbing my temple, with my elbow rested on the window frame, I close my eyes. There’s no way that Samantha would hurt this guy by leaving him for me right in front of his face, in his own home. I know her better than that.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  This will be a disaster.

  I can’t go through with it.

  Do I have a death wish?

  Have I forgotten how painful it was the last time she shot me down? No. I still remember. It’s the underlying fuel to all of my choices for more than two years.

  A text comes through from her:

  I’m at my parents house.

  I reply:

  Is it too late to come by?

  Within seconds I receive the answer:

  No, I’ve been waiting for you.

  Another text bubble appears:

  Just like you asked me to.

  My foot starts tapping as I tell my driver their familiar address. He nods and turns the wheel for the next exit off 75.

  Virginia Highlands, here I come.

  It feels funky to revisit this place after I’ve been gone for so long, bouncing around city to city in countries where English was their second language. Or third, fourth, fifth. My passport was stamped to where I needed a replacement.

  Yet here I am driving up Ponce and there’s Krispy Kreme doughnuts where it’s always has been, on my right. The Library Bar, on my left. And not five minutes from here is my beautiful best friend waiting to hear me out just because I asked her to.

  I’m risking that friendship.

  There’s no getting around it.

  One of us is going to be left standing at the end of this.

  Steven…or me.

  I’m tapping the floor with my fingers strumming on the armrest the rest of the way.

  “That’s it, right here!”

  He glances over his shoulder. “Little excited?”

  “I yelled that.”

  He doesn’t argue. I pay through the app, and hop out before he’s fully parked, and race up their driveway.

  The curtains are swaying.

/>   She must’ve looked outside to see if it was me.

  I haven’t seen her since that barbecue night. She texted me some photos sometimes, but that was few and far between. I didn’t ask for more. Too painful. And knowing her, she didn’t want to tease me by sending them to a guy who said he was in love with her. Her ego doesn’t need that kind of stroking. She would put me first, and my feelings, which is one of the many things I love about her.

  If I lose her tonight I will regret it.

  Forever.

  The door opens before I knock on it. She’s more beautiful than I remember. Her eyes are more mature, less innocent, less soft. Her blonde hair is a little shorter, hanging just above her breasts which seem larger since she’s not training as hard. She’s in a short-sleeved, orange sweater over white jeans. I glance down because I can’t help myself, and see that her feet are bare, toenails painted orange, too.

  “I can’t believe…” My mouth tightens.

  She frowns, “Come in,” and steps back.

  Scanning, I take note of the dim lights and house quiet around us.

  “Are they asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  I face her.

  My throat is dry.

  Gut twisted.

  “Did you want to meet me here because it’s neutral territory?”

  Those almond-brown eyes I missed so much are tracing every angle and groove of my face. “I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now. What is it you wanted to say?”

  “Don’t move in with him, Sam. I love you. I still love you.”

  Her lips part, eyes wide with what…confusion? I can’t tell.

  She whispers, “Logan…”

  I reach out to hold her arms, so I can steady myself and keep her attention. “I got the lead in the production. And Guilford said that it was time for me to stop being the best friend, and to step into the role I was meant for. I heard those words, but they made me think of only one thing—you. You’ve always thought of me as your best friend, and I know it was weird when I told you I wanted more. But we have something here. Don’t you feel it?” I search her. “Sam, your voice is the one I look forward to hearing. He gave me the dream, handed it to me, but when I had it I realized it wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t there with me. I don’t need the applause of thousands. I just want the applause of one. You. I know you don’t want to leave your family, that you’re a homebody and that’s all you want in order to be happy. I get it. I’ve been everywhere. And it taught me one thing. All I want to be is with you.” Sam whispers my name as her eyes become liquid. “You’re my best friend, Samantha, but I want more. I want everything! Every milestone you have, I want to have it with you. I want to teach kids how to dance with you. I want to have kids of our own. Sam, I couldn’t let you move in with that guy before I said it aloud. I might be committing friendship suicide, but without you I’m already dead inside. I want you. I need you. I still love you.”