The Tie's The Limit

by Megan Bryce

  Victoria grunted. “So she’s okay?”

  Gia grunted back. “For now. But she hasn’t said it back yet so she’s gonna need both of us again someday soon.”

  “She hasn’t said it back?”

  “She told him thank you.”

  Victoria laughed.

  Gia said, “And then she said maybe I love you too.”

  Victoria laughed again. “I am kind of sorry I missed that.”

  “Right? She’s lucky Flynn is still hanging around after that.”

  Victoria snorted. “Yeah, right. But it sounds like she’s okay for now, so I’m going to keep ignoring her.”

  “Victoria!”

  “I. Am. Busy. When I can breathe again, I’ll deal with her.”

  “And Scott.”

  A low growl traveled through the phone and Gia realized how close her friend was to the edge.

  “Don’t push me, Gia.”

  “I would never. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  This silence wasn’t cold but the result was the same.

  Victoria sighed and said, “No. But I’ll tell you about the Tevas with socks he’s been wearing. Dress socks.”

  Gia grinned. “Ooh, yeah? So it’s pretty much hopeless, huh?”

  “His fashion sense is, at least. We’ll see about the rest of it.”

  “You know, when I’m done here, I would be willing to relocate to San Francisco for a little while. My fees are…entirely unreasonable,” she finished, just to make Victoria smile. There was nothing Victoria liked better than the thought of overcharging.

  Victoria chuckled softly. “Hmm. Perhaps I could bring on a consultant. You’d have to do the whole office, though. It is, unfortunately, not just him.”

  “Oh, my god. I just saw dollar signs flash before my eyes. I gotta stop hanging around you.”

  Victoria laughed again, “If I can keep this boat from sinking, I’ll bring you out.” She murmured to someone else and then back to Gia, “I gotta go. The morons are loose again.”

  “Good luck,” Gia said but she doubted Victoria heard before hanging up.

  Gia did wonder about going out to San Francisco.

  It might be worth a pretty penny if she had to dress the entire office. It might take a little bit of time. It might extend her time here in Florida.

  Her mother wanted her three years of flesh and Gia had to assume those three years wouldn’t count unless she was actually in the flesh.

  For now though, it was still three years and then she would hightail it back to New York.

  Except the longer she was gone, the more she forgot what exactly it was she was missing.

  Her pezzo di merda apartment?

  Her aunt had been right. Space was nice. Stretching out was nice. Not having to pull boxes out from under her bed every day was nice.

  Having a full kitchen was nice. There was no doubt she could rock a microwave still but having a full refrigerator gave her options.

  She’d accidentally stumbled past a For Rent sign the other day and found out she could get an apartment here that was more than twice as big for the same amount of money. An apartment that had actual doors to the multiple bedrooms.

  And Gia would admit that being close to family again was nice. Her aunts and uncles, cousins. Nephews and nieces.

  Her brothers too, though she’d had to remind them a few times that she was grown up. An adult.

  Her sisters-in-law. She looked around the Escalade she was still driving and was reminded again how nice it was to be close to family again.

  She didn’t hate Florida, surprisingly. Wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it in three years if she was warming to it after only a week or two.

  She still hadn’t seen a cockroach as big as a rat though.

  Florida might still surprise her.

  Megan BryceThe Tie’s The Limit

  Thirteen

  All morning long, Mac waited.

  Waited for Gia to waltz into his office. Stomp in. Hell, swing in—he wouldn’t put it past her.

  Waited to see her face again after the wild ride in his car.

  Waited to feel embarrassed that she knew his secret…okay, it wasn’t that big of a secret.

  But now she knew.

  And he wondered what that would mean to her in terms of his wardrobe.

  And he wondered if she wanted to go driving again.

  Hours later, he was still waiting when she finally leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and studied him.

  She said nothing, just kept right on looking until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “No outfits today,” he said, nodding at her empty hands.

  She shook her head.

  “I still want to see your home. I simply refuse to believe you have negative style after seeing your hot rod.”

  “It’s not a hot rod.”

  “Does hot rod have a specific definition? Because a bright orange fast car sure feels like a hot rod.”

  He sniffed, refusing to geek out on the definition of a hot rod.

  “Are you going to tattle to my sister again if I don’t take you to see my home?”

  One side of her mouth quirked up. “Yep.”

  If he hadn’t already seen the photos of her three older brothers he’d have known she was the baby just by that.

  She said, “You need to start prioritizing your wardrobe, Mac. We can do it now, during your lunch break, or I can come this weekend and take all the time in the world.”

  He sighed, already accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to win against her.

  “Let’s go. But we go in, get what you need, and get out.”

  Gia waited for him to turn off his computer and then followed him out the door.

  She said, “Okay, I’ll try not to faint. Should speed things up.”

  Gia drove, and it had only taken Mac telling her she wasn’t driving his Camaro two—maybe three—times before she took out her keys and led him to her SUV.

  Since it wasn’t the first time getting in with her behind the wheel, he barely glanced at her haphazard parking job and made sure his seatbelt was nice and secure.

  He directed her to the freeway, told her which exit to take, then started reading. As long as he didn’t pay too close attention to her white knuckles, the silence of the Escalade was quite relaxing.

  He stopped reading when she got off the at the wrong exit.

  She didn’t wait for his comments though, only said, “I know, but it’s my lunch break too and I’m hungry. I’ll just go through a drive-thru.”

  She inched the Escalade up to the nearest lane, eyeing the clearance bar and muttering under her breath that she hoped it fit.

  When there was no horrible scraping sound overhead she grinned at him so widely he stopped thinking.

  And when she asked, “You want anything,” he only shook his head, still trying to find his tongue.

  His speechlessness turned into a long low groan when she sang out her window, “I’ll get two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onion, on a sesame seed bun.”

  The disembodied voice behind the speaker only said, “So, that’s one Big Mac. Would you like fries with that?”

  Gia laughed, adding a large fry to her order before turning to Mac with a merry twinkle in her eye.

  “We can share. It’s my experience that everyone wants french fries once they smell them.”

  He shook his head at her, then snapped his paper and went back to reading.

  Gia chuckled again when she paid, and again when they handed her a bag of food.

  “Come on, Big Mac. That’s funny.”

  “Hilarious.”

  She sneaked a fry before putting the bag between them.

  “Are we close to your home?”

  He sniffed. “We’re close. And you don’t have to get back on the freeway, we can get there from here.”

  “Okay but I just want to point out that I am getting better at merging in,” she offered and Ma
c snorted.

  “Make a right out of here and then left at the next light.”

  When Gia stayed in the right lane, Mac said, “It’s coming up. You might want to get in the other lane.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, turning on her signal.

  Mac leaned over, checking her dash and watching her right signal blink away.

  “It’s your other left.”

  “It’s okay. I got this.”

  He watched the road they were supposed to turn on pass by and he said, “I don’t think you do.”

  “I can’t turn left in this thing. So I don’t.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I can’t turn left so I turn right. Three rights make a left.”

  Gia slowed at the next street, that right turn signal still blinking. The rear wheel went up on the curb as she turned right and he reached for the grab handle quickly.

  He said, “Just so you know, you can’t turn right in this thing either.”

  “It’s so big! I can’t tell where the end is.”

  He realized after she turned another right corner that she actually was going to make three rights instead of one left.

  He turned in his seat, leaning his back against the door and folding his arms to study her. She noticed his perusal when they turned the final corner and she proudly grinned at him.

  “See? Here we are. No left turns needed.”

  He continued to stare, specifically at her self-satisfied grin.

  He said, “This seems like a psychological problem to me.”

  She stopped grinning and huffed out a breath, and he said, “No, really. You never turn left?”

  “Never? I’ve only been in Florida like a week.” She stopped and thought. “Two weeks? Three? Anyway, it’s this behemoths fault. I just sit there going can I go now, what about now, can I make it, I can make it, NO I CAN’T. Trust me, this is easier.”

  Mac said, “It can’t possibly.”

  “It is. It might even be faster,” she said and he shook his head.

  “No. What happens if you can’t turn right?”

  “I don’t know. Hasn’t happened yet.”

  “It will, you know.”

  Luckily for her there were no more left turns to his place from here. She must really have to plan out her routes.

  Although Gia and planning didn’t seem like they went together. Kind of like Gia and left-hand turns, apparently.

  She shrugged. “I just go past where I want to turn and then make a right. And then another right, and another right… I get there eventually.”

  “Is this why you’re always late?”

  “I’m not always late! There’s no specific time I’m supposed to get to your office, just so you know.”

  “Luckily for you. For the general population, this could be a real problem.”

  “It’s not a problem. No left turns is a solution to a problem. The Escalade problem. When I get my own—small, very small—car, I won’t have to do this.” She glanced at him. “I still might. I just won’t have to.”

  He couldn’t help his laugh. It just sort of burst out of him.

  “I think maybe you need to be studied. The woman who won’t turn left.”

  “Funny. They can put me in the same study of the man who only wears one tie.”

  He considered the possibility that other people thought that him wearing the same-looking tie everyday was just as crazy as never turning left.

  Obviously, he rejected the idea outright.

  The tall, white facade of his condo building came into view and Mac pointed at the next entrance, considering where to direct her to park.

  He said, “It’s pretty empty, coming in the middle of a work day was actually a good idea. You can take up any four spots.”

  She shot him a look. “You want to park this thing? See how easy it is?”

  He was having a hard time trying not to laugh at her, his mouth playing tug-of-war between smiling and frowning.

  It was probably low blood sugar. The smell of fried potatoes was starting to make his stomach growl.

  Feeling reckless, he said, “Sure, I’ll park it. My neighbors will thank me.”

  She smirked, grabbing her drive-thru bag and hopping out of the car to leave him running around quickly to the driver’s side.

  “Take your time, Big Mac,” she said from the comfort of the sidewalk.

  He grimaced at her through the windshield, unexpectedly nervous. He’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t park perfectly.

  He tried to ignore her as he lined the car up and slowly pulled in, blowing out a breath when it was just like parking any old car and not the herculean task she made it out to be.

  He hopped out, locking the SUV and handing her the keys.

  “I did it in one. I will allow that it was a tight squeeze.”

  She sniffed. “You must be spatially blessed.”

  His lips twitched. “Kissed by the gods themselves. Not everybody can park inside the lines.”

  She took the head off one french fry with an exaggerated bite. “And I am spatially challenged.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  “Yep. Why, what are you calling it?”

  He shook his head with a slight smile, holding the door open for her.

  “I’m not calling it anything. I just don’t see how someone who can see how clothes go together can’t see how a car and a parking spot go together.”

  Gia thought about it.

  “Practice, maybe?”

  He said, “Lack of interest, maybe?”

  “Oh, there’s definitely a lack of interest. I’m not going to be driving this thing for very much longer.”

  “So you’ve been saying.”

  “I’ve just never bought a car before and it’s making me nervous. I’ll probably pick out a beautiful clunker and have to keep borrowing from my family. Might as well just skip that first part and keep on borrowing from my family.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate it.”

  She grunted at him as they entered the elevator and Gia said, “Swanky. My apartment in New York was a walk-up.”

  “Not too many of those in Florida.”

  “No. Elevators definitely go in the pros column for Florida.”

  His stomach growled loudly in the tight confines of the elevator and she held the bag out to him with a shake.

  “Come on. You know you want one. You can’t let all that salty, fatty goodness just soak into the bag.”

  “You’d like it to soak into my arteries instead?”

  “It’s what they’re there for.”

  He gave in, the smell too tantalizing, and reached in for one french fry. The salt exploded on his tongue, the crisp shell crunching between his teeth so satisfyingly.

  Mac said, “They’ve got these down to a science, don’t they. I don’t think I’ve had McDonald’s fries in years.”

  She nodded. “You look like you eat your starches in a more pure form.”

  He reached for a few more, trying to imagine a more pure form of starch than a french fry.

  He gave up.

  “Like what?”

  “Brown rice. Quinoa. You look like a quinoa eater.”

  “Ah. You don’t look like a quinoa eater.”

  “No. I like my starches fried. Ramen noodles, french fries. If I can get it Canadian-style, even better. French fries, gravy, cheese curds. Sometimes bacon. I had poutine once with a yolky fried egg on top and thought I was going to die it tasted so good. Ooh, I wonder if I could make ramen poutine.” She laughed at the look of disgust on his face, and shook the bag at him. “Got any gravy and cheese curds? Bacon? Eggs?”

  “No, and even if I did…” he said, shaking his head.

  The elevator dinged, the doors opened. He let her out first, pointing down the hall.

  “You can turn left while walking, can’t you?”

  She winked at him and walked straight out of the elevator and didn’t stop until she ran into t
he wall opposite them. She turned right, took two steps, made a right, took two steps, made a right and took two steps.

  She whispered as she passed him, “I got this.”

  He grabbed another french fry quick out of the bag. “Looks like it. But I just don’t know how you can go through life like this. What if I helped you buy a car?”

  She stopped dead in the hall.

  “What?”

  “Help you look? Make sure you don’t get a clunker. I’ve bought a lot of cars over the years.” When she looked at him in question, he added, “To restore.”

  “Oh.” Her face lit up. “Do you have a garage somewhere full of old immaculate cars?”

  Mac started walking again, pointing to his door. “No. When I find a new one, I sell the old one.”

  She sucked in a quick breath, catching up to him with a quick hop. “Does it hurt when you sell them?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a little bit? You don’t worry that the new owner isn’t going to treat it right?”

  Mac didn’t say anything and Gia nudged him with her shoulder.

  “You do, don’t you?”

  “I might swing by on the odd occasion just to check.”

  Gia grinned and Mac said defensively, “What?”

  She nodded at him. “I’ve got your number.”

  “I doubt it.”

  He unlocked his door, holding it open for her. She stepped in slowly, her eyes going round, her mouth falling open.

  “You were not kidding about the white, were you?”

  “No. I don’t usually kid.”

  He looked, seeing when he normally didn’t. Caring, when he never did.

  White walls, white tile.

  A white sofa on a white rug.

  Gia said, “It’s so white, I can’t stand it. I think I’m going to faint.”

  He pushed her in a little further so he could shut the door.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “No, really. The glare is giving me a headache. Everything is so very white, even your barstools.”

  He shook his head at her because this he understood.

  “Black barstools would have looked out of place.”

  “Sure, those are the only two colors barstools come in. Have we died? Was that door really a portal to limbo?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding at the bag still in her hand. “They usually allow one personal item through the portal with you. Aren’t you glad it’s french fries?”