No further explanation was necessary.
Ray needed a private lesson in pulling his fair share, express-delivered by one of my size twelves stuffed up his ass. This guy was the worst slacker ever. He rarely showed up to meetings and always had a slew of excuses for missing previous get-togethers. Collette and four other graduate students were scheduled to give a presentation in two weeks to go over the marketing plan they had devised for a fictional publishing house. Ray had volunteered to take the pamphlet template to a print shop owned by one of his relatives, claiming there would be no charge since he was family. The lazy sack of shit apparently couldn’t complete the one assignment he’d been given all semester. And now it fell on his teammates’ heads.
It wouldn’t have surprised me at all if Ray and Diana were long-lost cousins. They both had the same MO of shirking their responsibilities and leaving others in the lurch.
“There’s a place across the street from our offices. My company uses them all the time. Their prices are reasonable and turnaround time is only a few days. I’m sure they’d rush the order for an additional fee. I can drop off the thumb drive on my way in tomorrow morning while you’re at class to set the wheels in motion faster.”
“That would be great.” She smiled and handed me a plate.
I sat next to Neil and dug into my meal, dragging a seasoned potato wedge–also homemade–through a cup of sour cream topped with a sprinkle of paprika. Comfort food and good company were exactly what I needed right now.
Over slabs of tiramisu and cappuccinos, I told Collette and Neil about what would go down tomorrow morning. “She’s going to blame me, I just know it,” I said, dunking a spoonful of dessert into my coffee.
“Crazy bitch,” Neil muttered over the rim of his cup. “What the hell did she think would happen after playing hooky for a week?”
Collette sighed and rested her hand on mine. “Just stay calm if she flips out and goes on a finger-pointing spree. She definitely brought this on herself. You know that, and so does everyone else who matters.” She gave me a reassuring pat and got up to clear the table.
Hours later, long after the house had fallen silent, I gently removed Collette’s hands from her laptop keyboard. She’d nodded off while drafting a section of her term paper and filled an entire page with lowercase Js. I deleted them, saved her work, and hopped online to check a website. Once I was finished, I powered down the machine and set it aside. She curled right up against me, but not even the warmth and contentment rolling off of her could lull me to sleep. My brain was too hyperactive, my conscience too heavy.
When I walked into the break room the next morning, Diana stood at the water cooler, filling a reusable plastic bottle. She sneered at me and swiped a doughnut from a box on the counter before traipsing out of the room. I shook my head and filled my mug, in dire need of a caffeine infusion before Darren got wind of her presence, and all hell broke loose.
Minutes passed as I checked email without any interruption. I finished my coffee and got up for a refill. People’s heads rose over the partitions of their cubicles, facing the cluster I used to sit in. A uniformed guard from building security and the head of HR stood next to Diana’s cube as she hastily tossed items into a box.
Bloodshot blue eyes met mine as she stepped out of her workspace. They narrowed into a vicious glare as she clutched the overflowing box with blanched knuckles. I waited for a parting shot–a hateful jab at my masculinity or a lie about how I had obtained my promotion–but she remained silent while walking toward the reception area with the guard on her heels.
“Show’s over, people. Get back to work,” Darren said from his doorway. He followed me to the coffee maker and took the last of what remained in the glass carafe. Bastard. “You okay with running a smaller team or should I have HR put some feelers out to fill the empty slot?”
One less person meant heavier workloads for everyone else. But I felt confident my group could handle the burden. I’d gladly spend more time on site to avoid the rigmarole of training a new hire. “We’ll be all right,” I told him, spooning grounds into a filter to make a fresh pot.
“You know, I had concerns when Paul suggested you as his replacement. I’m glad they were unfounded.” He grabbed his mug and headed back to his office.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and willed the coffee to brew faster.
22
Ryan
Alternating bricks of tension and weariness pave the home stretch leading up to any big event.
Personally, I had chugged gallons of coffee while burning the midnight oil during the two weeks before final exams my last semester of undergrad, falling asleep on top of textbooks and trudging to class with one eye cracked open.
Sitting across from me at the kitchen table with a scowl on her face, Collette muttered an oath and chewed on the end of her ponytail. It was a nasty habit that surfaced whenever she was majorly stressed out. Judging by the frequency of it the past week, she’d cough up a hairball the size of my fist any day now.
Glancing at the antique train station clock over the back door, I bit back a smile and reviewed the playlist on my laptop as she repeatedly jabbed at a key on hers. I untethered my phone from the cable connecting it to my computer and stood, pretending to stretch as Collette heaved a sigh.
Rounding the table, I placed my hands on her shoulders and dug my thumbs into her nape. Her hands dropped to her lap as her head fell forward. “Ohhh, you are a saint. I might fall asleep if you do this for too long.”
“It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you took a break. You’re still way ahead of schedule.” With her attention directed elsewhere, I reached over and clicked on the icon to save the document and closed her laptop.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished,” she protested. “I’m still trying to work on the wording of the introduction. It sounds too clinical right now, and I don’t want the professor to accuse me of plagiarism.”
Before she could react, I snatched up the slim machine and gave her a stern look. She was a fanatical perfectionist, obsessed with making sure every word of every sentence of every paragraph made sense. I knew from proofing other drafts that she was beating a dead horse at this point. There was no way to improve what had already been scrutinized under a microscope for the past eight days. This was an A paper and she knew it. I just wished she would hand it in early and end the madness.
“You can fuss over it tomorrow,” I said, pulling her up by a hand. “We have to leave now, or we’ll be late.”
Her delicate eyebrows dipped. “Late for what? It’s the middle of the afternoon, so you can’t be referring to dinner reservations. Or at least I hope you aren’t since I look like a bum.” She gestured at her worn jeans and fuzzy socks, then at her makeup-free face.
“Not dinner.” Grabbing our coats from the rack in the mudroom, I held hers open by the lapels. “What you’re wearing is fine. You’ve never looked more beautiful. Button up. The high temp today is supposed to be in the mid-forties, but I doubt it got out of the thirties.”
I whistled, and Oscar popped up from his bed nestled in the open space between two lower cabinets. “Go outside, buddy.” He trotted out the door and down the steps to his favorite patch of grass.
Collette pulled on a pair of sneakers, peering up at me with a curious expression. “Can you at least give me a hint about where we’re going?”
“Sure. It’s near the airport.”
“Which one?”
“O’Hare.”
Her face scrunched up as she pondered the clue. “Are we going on a helicopter ride?”
“Good guess. But I said near the airport, not at it.” I let Oscar in and tugged her to her feet, moving in the direction of the front door.
“Then I have no idea.” She made an exasperated noise as we moved along the path to the gate. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.” I grinned as we climbed into my car.
While the engine warmed up, I connected my phone to the stereo an
d called up the set of flight-inspired songs, choosing to begin with Foo Fighters’ “Learn to Fly.” The playlist itself was a direct nod to what we would be doing an hour from now.
Collette tossed out a handful of guesses as I navigated the highway, growing increasingly puzzled as each one was shot down. When we emerged from the parking garage connected to a building housing a bowling alley and several themed restaurants, she eyed the chessboard littered with life-sized pieces and threw her hands up in the air. “Please tell me you didn’t drag me away from my paper to pull a Bobby Fischer. I could have kicked your ass at home and saved you a tank of gas.”
A laugh burst out of me. “True, but we aren’t here to play a game.”
“The ice skating rink isn’t open yet, so unless we’re here to bowl or participate in a yodeling contest at the German restaurant, I’m stumped.”
I tsked, wagging a finger. “It wouldn’t be fair to all the other contestants.” Dropping my voice, I gave her a wolfish grin. “You put Heidi to shame every time we–”
“Do not finish that sentence!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming.
“I wonder if they sell those little peasant dresses? The ones that lace up the front and have puffy sleeves?”
“Shut up, Hans, before I schnitzel your wiener.”
“Violence is never the best solution, Fräulein Russo.”
“Seriously, why are we here, Ryan?” Collette scanned the area, skipping over the tall, narrow building on the opposite side of the plaza.
Placing my palms on her cold cheeks, I turned her head back toward the lit-up structure. “Remember when you told me how much you wanted to grow a pair of wings and fly out of the café last week after Ray screwed you and your classmates over? Indoor skydiving is one of the easiest ways to be a bird without sprouting feathers.”
“No way!” she yelled, her face splitting into a smile. “How long have you known about this?”
“I booked the reservation last Thursday night after you fell asleep. Between my work drama and your brain strain, I thought both of us could benefit from some fun. All you have to do is let go and enjoy yourself. No thinking about deadlines, no worrying about proper grammar or punctuation, and no frowning allowed.”
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” She gave me a kiss and grabbed my hand, towing me to the main entrance.
After checking in, we were led to a small classroom to watch an instructional video. Collette got so excited, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet while waiting to gear up. I smiled at the change in her demeanor, pleased to see her so happy. It was a nice departure from how grumpy she’d been lately.
“Ladies first,” I said, motioning for her to enter the vertical air chamber.
She tightened the chin strap on her helmet and adjusted her goggles, giving our instructor an enthusiastic thumbs-up when she was ready. Air blew into the cylinder from vents in the floor, lifting her off the surface. With some assistance from Dylan, she went horizontal and bobbed around with a big girlish grin.
The way she hugged me and ranted about how strange weightlessness felt made me damn thankful I had chosen the largest flight package. I stepped inside for my turn and cheesed it up when my feet came off the floor. It was one of the most exhilarating feelings, to coast along on a stream with my arms and legs fully extended without any fear of falling to my death after a parachute malfunction.
We switched back and forth until each of us had flown three times. Collette joked about how her legs felt like rubber bands and wobbled as we exited the facility. “I’m starving. I vote for the German place, but I’m not yodeling or wearing peasant garb for my meal.”
After a lengthy wait, we were seated at a long wooden table with two other parties. Collette and I eyed the liter-sized steins the people at the next table drank from and reached for the beer menus. A pigtailed, dirndl-clad waitress named Heidi appeared and it took a tremendous effort for me to not bust up laughing at the look on Collette’s face when the girl introduced herself. We ordered two pilsners and a baked pretzel appetizer.
“Thank you,” Collette said over the top of her menu. “It’s nice to get away from…everything for a while. I didn’t realize how much I needed a break. But I’m glad you did.”
My chest tightened in response to the soft look of admiration. I liked being Collette’s hero, the guy who swooped in and whisked her away from negativity. It had nothing to do with my ego or an underlying need for power. This was all about showing her how much I loved her in my own special way.
“It’s my pleasure. Thank you for not putting up much of a fight. I would have carried you over my shoulder kicking and screaming if that’s what it took to get you out of the house.”
“The neighbors would have been amused.”
Heidi returned with our drinks and appetizer. We held up our steins and yelled “Prost!” with the rest of the patrons in a traditional German toast led by an accordion player dressed in lederhosen.
The band played as we drank beer and dined on bratwurst and sauerbraten with spätzle. Collette shook her head when our server encouraged us to join in on the dancing in front of the stage. Ignoring her pleas, I dragged her up there and did my best to imitate the footwork of the costumed leaders. We stumbled a lot, and I stepped on her toes several times, but neither of us cared enough to stop.
“Can you do something for me after we get home?” she asked while digging into a large piece of Black Forest cake.
“If it involves that top-secret La Perla delivery you refused to let me see, the answer is yes.”
Collette rolled her eyes. “Could you read my paper one more time? If you don’t see any issues, and it makes sense, I’m going to cut the cord and email it to Professor Taggart.”
I blinked in surprise. The wind in the air tunnel must have blown some clarity into her mind. “Of course, but on one condition.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” she said dryly.
“You watch a movie with Oscar and me after pressing the button. No working on your PowerPoint presentation or studying for exams tonight.”
Neil was gone until tomorrow afternoon, chaperoning a field trip to Detroit to watch a Blackhawks-Red Wings game with a group of boys from the community center. The den was freed up without the couch potato there to monopolize the flat screen. I wanted to take advantage of his absence and have a low-key movie night with a bowl of popcorn and a fire in the big rustic stone fireplace.
“Deal. What should we watch?”
Popping open the Redbox app on my phone, I read off the names of new releases while waiting for the check. Collette chose Pitch Perfect 2, and I reserved it at the kiosk outside a gas station near her house. I had never seen the first movie in the franchise, but Collette had it on DVD. We’d kick off movie night with the original and follow up with the sequel.
“You up for a quick game?” Collette asked as we approached the outdoor chessboard.
“Haven’t I embarrassed myself enough today by showing an entire restaurant my lackluster folk dancing skills?”
“Pleeease?”
As if I would dream of telling her no when she had a skip in her step and a sparkle in her eye. “All right,” I grumbled, lifting a black pawn to set it back in its proper spot. “The things I do for you.”
A crowd formed as we played, which made it downright humiliating when she beat me with a move I would have never thought to use. An elderly man hobbled over and challenged her to another match, asking me to move the pieces. He proved to be a worthy opponent and beat her, but it took some clever strategizing.
We headed home, stopping to grab the movie and a bag of plain M&Ms. I prepared Oscar’s dinner while Collette popped corn and mixed it with the candy. The dog scarfed his kibble and ran laps around the island as the microwave ran for the second bag. “Don’t worry, I’ll hook you up if you stop making me dizzy.” He skidded to a stop and offered me a paw.
Smart little guy.
I read Collette’s paper and found one
omitted word. She fixed the error and typed up a message to her professor, attaching the document and sending it off before she had a chance to second-guess her decision.
Oscar sat on my left and Collette snuggled into my right side as the television screen flickered to life and flames danced around the ceramic logs. I tossed him some plain kernels, and once his belly was full, he rolled onto his back and fell asleep as Anna Kendrick’s character auditioned for a spot in one of her college’s a cappella groups.
Pulling down the throw blanket hanging over the top of the couch, I draped it over our legs and laughed at Fat Amy’s attempt to flirt with Bumper.
23
Ryan
An air horn blasted as I crossed the finish line.
Clasping my hands behind my neck, I shuffled toward the refreshment table. A volunteer gave me a bottle of water and a banana.
“Ryan!” my mother yelled, waving a hand over her head. “Over here!”
I walked over to where my family had gathered near the opening of the hospitality tent. Mom, Grandma, and Collette stood in a row, smiling widely and eager to congratulate me for completing the annual Turkey Trot 10K race my hometown held every Thanksgiving Day morning.
Grandma’s arms were already spread open, but Mom had taken a step forward to assert her intentions on how the pecking order should fall. Collette had my coat, though, which I really wanted since it was a crisp, blustery late-November morning.
My girlfriend’s dark eyes shifted to the two maternal figures ready to duke it out over hugging rights. Stuffing my jacket under an arm, Collette removed herself from the equation by kneeling down to fiddle with her shoelaces. Her lips curved into a grin as her fingers casually flipped the securely tied laces around.
I fell in love with her even more for giving the others first dibs.
In a move I’d perfected years ago to avoid playing favorites, I drew my mother and grandmother into a group hug. Both women congratulated me, rumpling my hair and patting my clammy cheeks. Then they changed tack and fussed over how I wasn’t dressed warmly enough for the weather and would catch pneumonia.
More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1) Page 18