by Hazel Kelly
I craned my neck back. "What kind of show wouldn't I like?"
"I don't even know where to start. Vagina Olympics in Bangkok, sex shows in Amsterdam-"
My face dropped.
"The cat circus in Moscow."
"That last one sounds okay."
"It's not. It's totally not okay."
My lips fell apart.
"Have you ever even met a cat?" he asked.
"Fine. I owe you a million dollars."
"I know," he said. "But I'll waive the fee on one condition."
"I’m listening."
"Have dinner with me."
"Dinner?"
"Yeah. I took tonight off work to spend time with you. Seems like the least I could do if you don't know how long you're sticking around."
I swallowed.
"Besides, I don't have any food in the fridge, which I'm sure you noticed. So what do you say?"
"Okay."
"Great."
I furrowed my brow. "Is that the good news? That we're going out to eat?"
"Not officially."
"What's officially the good news?"
"It's a two-parter."
I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "Go on."
"Part one is that I didn't go beat the shit out of that pervert that upset you yesterday."
"What?"
"I thought about it, and I was pretty close, but I decided committing murder on a sunny Friday morning wouldn't be as gratifying in real life as it was in my imagination."
"I'm glad you made the right decision."
"He's still on my shit list, though, so if you start having nightmares of something-"
"I'll let you know."
"Good."
"Is that it then? The good news is that you decided to be a mature adult for two seconds and not use violence to solve problems that aren't even yours."
"Actually, it gets better."
"Gee. I don't know if anything could be better than the fact that you're not calling from prison, but try me."
"I got you a lead."
"A lead?"
"More like a meeting. With a real agent."
"An agent?"
"Yeah. My buddy's uncle runs a place in Midtown, and he's agreed to meet with you.
"Wow."
"Not too shabby for a hungover half day's work."
"Not at all," I said. "That is good news."
"So I’ll take you somewhere fancy, and we'll celebrate over steaks."
I cocked my head. "Will it be so fancy we won’t be able to order biscuits as a starter?"
"Of course. Unless you're homesick, in which case I believe there's a Bob Evans in Buffalo."
"That's okay. I think I can last a while longer without."
"Great. Then I know just the place."
"This is all really nice of you, Ethan, but it's not helping me feel like I'm not imposing."
"That's your problem. Not mine."
"And I feel a bit awkward knowing you've been worrying about me since you left the apartment."
Silence.
"Not to call you out."
"That's exactly what you did."
I smiled. "You can make up for it by not thinking about me at all until dinner."
"Sounds easy enough. Deal."
"Text me the address, and I'll meet you there."
"I’d rather send a car and call you when it's outside."
"Okay."
I hung up the phone and set it down.
What if Brandi was right?
I thought about the kiss and the way he'd joked about it yesterday over drinks.
What if his heart wasn't in being just my stepbrother? What if it never had been?
Any idiot could see how amazing he was. He was funny, smart, and tough as he was sexy. Plus, he had a cool job in a cool place.
But why would he be into me?
I understood the attention when I was fourteen. I was weird. Other. I stuck out like a sore thumb. Or at least, that's why I always thought he stared.
But there were years then when he hardly spoke to me at all. Why would he have treated me like that for so long? Because he liked me when he shouldn't have?
Part of me wanted to believe Brandi was full of shit.
After all, it wouldn't be the first time. She was notorious for looking for drama where none existed, but I don't think she would do that with my life.
Sure, she might roast me royally behind closed doors, but she'd bent over backwards to keep me from looking stupid when we were growing up. If she had any doubt about Ethan's feelings, she wouldn't tease me or egg me on. That wasn't like her.
And what if this trip really was my last chance to figure out what we actually meant to each other?
I mean, if I let my guard down and he sensed it, there were only two things that could happen.
Either he'd get freaked out, in which case I’d laugh my flirtation off as a joke and let the weirdness dissipate over the following days.
Or, he'd take the chance I gave him with both hands, and I’d finally get to find out if the years of sexual frustration I'd endured were based on something deeper than simply wanting what I thought couldn’t have.
And, to be honest, the possibility of option two excited me so much I knew it was worth considering.
Now I just had to decide what to wear.
Chapter 28: Ethan
I tightened my hand around the yellow daisies and then loosened my grip.
I'd done it so many times I was surprised I hadn't torn the plastic cover around the stems.
"Would you like another-?" The bartender nodded at my drink.
"No, thanks," I said, looking down at my half full beer. Who did this clown think he was? It was way too early to start pushing drinks on people.
However, it was definitely not too early for Jenny to walk through the door.
I hoped she would like the place. It was classy and dark, but not too stuffy.
And it was the least I could do to take her somewhere half decent after drowning her in cheap margaritas and finger food last night.
I exhaled and put my elbows on the bar. What was it about her that made me so crazy?
On one hand, I'd love if she got that hammered again because she was so fun when she let her guard down, when she didn't read too much into it when I gave her a compliment.
On the other hand, it had taken every ounce of restraint I had last night not to kiss her again, not to run my hands over her hips and pull her close. And I knew well enough to know that I was no saint or superhero. It was unlikely that I could display that kind of control again, especially two nights in a row.
Then again, what if I did kiss her? What was the worst thing that could happen?
She might slap me. Or never speak to me again. It's not like that would be all that terrible.
After all, it would be better than if she never laid a hand on me, and it's not like we were fucking pen pals. If she stopped talking to me when she left the city, everything would be pretty much the same as it had always been.
If anything, it might be better to try something and risk driving her away. At least I might stand a chance of being able to move on then. But the more time I spent with her, the more far flung that idea seemed.
I looked towards the fire pit at the front of the restaurant just in time to see her walk in. She was wearing a little yellow dress and looked like she was rising up from the flames as she passed by the fire.
I felt my chest swell as she greeted the hostess, and a lump formed in my throat when they started towards me.
I stood up, feeling weak in the knees as I noticed her smooth legs sticking out from the bottom of her dress. Then I forced my eyes up to the wide scoop neckline where two thin straps hung over her collarbones.
I recalled the last time I saw her showing so much skin.
It was at a pool party shortly after our parents got married. She wasn't really invited to the party. She was just there cause she was friends with my
buddy’s younger sister. They kept to themselves the whole time, laughing and passing magazines back and forth.
It drove me fucking crazy.
I wanted her to notice me, to watch me like I watched her.
Instead, she just laid there in her ruffled turquoise bikini, completely oblivious to me. And I swear I couldn’t have been more impressed by a woman’s beauty than if I were the Greek peasant who first laid eyes on the Venus de Milo.
"Hi," I said when she walked up.
"Your table is ready," the hostess said. "Right this way."
I gestured for Jenny to go first and stepped behind her, my thoughts obsessed by how the flirty bottom of her dress fluttered below her ass.
Boy was I in trouble.
I would've pulled Jen’s chair out, but the hostess beat me to it, and as we took our seats, she remarked that we were a very handsome couple.
I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak, but Jenny just nodded and said thank you, smiling at the woman like we got that all the time as she accepted her menu.
"Are those for me?" Jenny asked, nodding towards the flowers in my hand after the hostess left.
I looked at them for a moment like I wasn't sure whose arm I was staring at before snapping out of it. "They are, yeah," I said, handing the daisies across the table.
"Thanks," she said, reaching for them. She closed her eyes as she brought them to her nose, her lashes long against her cheeks. "What's the occasion?"
I shrugged. "I just figured you might as well get used to getting flowers since it won't be long before it's happening every night of the week."
Her eyes sprang into little crescents. "Thanks," she said, laying them at the edge of the table. "I hope you’re right."
I smiled.
"And I love that they match my dress."
"Which is stunning by the way."
She fixed her eyes on mine. "Stunning?"
"Yeah."
She swallowed.
I leaned back in my chair. "Unless it makes you uncomfortable for me to say that in which case-"
"What?" She squinted at me. "You take it back?"
I pursed my lips.
"It's fine," she said.
"Good. Cause I'd be lying if I took it back."
"And for the record-"
I raised my eyebrows.
"Your attention has never made me uncomfortable."
I narrowed my eyes at her.
"What makes me uncomfortable is-"
"What?"
"This thing that hangs over us that makes everything so weird all the time."
I clenched my jaw.
She opened her menu. "I just wish things were different."
I turned an ear towards her. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
I took a deep breath.
"I mean, I can't say I wish our parents never got married. Cause they're happy together most of the time and-"
I furrowed my brow. "And what?"
"And I wouldn't begrudge them that." She looked down at her menu. "Especially after what they've both been through."
I looked at the daisies and then back at Jen, wondering what my mom would've thought of her. "Of course."
"But I never wanted you to be my stepbrother."
"But I'm so great at it."
She laughed.
The melodic sound made my chest loosen.
"You aren't great at it," she said. "You've never been anything but a pain in my ass."
"I'm sorry. I should've been a better-"
"You're not listening," she said. "I never wanted you to be a better stepbrother. I never even wanted a brother."
"What did you want?"
She kept her head tilted down but let her eyes flick up at me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yeah. I would."
“So.” She smiled. "Tell me about the agency you mentioned on the phone."
Why couldn't she just admit that she always wanted me, too, and put me out of my misery?
Why did she have to be so gorgeous and enigmatic and out of reach?
Or was she trying to tell me she wasn't?
And that she never had been?
Chapter 29: Jenny
There was no question that he checked me out when I walked in.
Of course, I was hoping he would. I wouldn't have worn such a flirty dress otherwise.
But I thought he'd be more subtle about it. Instead, he checked me out like he couldn’t even help himself, like he didn’t give a shit who noticed.
No wonder the hostess thought we were a couple.
And as soon as I felt his eyes skim over my body like that I swear I felt flames shoot up my spine. It was the best feeling ever. I half expected my head to float away like a balloon after it happened.
But the sound of his voice made me feel grounded all over again.
I rarely showed so much skin. I mean, if there was anything I couldn't live without, it would be my collection of oversized sweaters.
But the thought of Ethan's eyes resting on parts of me that were usually covered excited me, and when I slipped the little dress on, it was almost like wearing a costume. And I'd always felt confident in costumes.
Besides, I was going to need that confidence tonight if I was going to break my own rules and fill my night with firsts.
As I was getting ready, I tried to remember the last time I exposed so much skin around him. It had been a rare occurrence.
After all, the few times he came home after he got sent away were all over Christmas breaks. He must've seen me in nothing but sweaters and leggings for years on end.
And then it came to me. It was one day at Kelsey's house when her brother was having a pool party. I still remember the turquoise bikini I was wearing at the time. It had ruffles.
Anyway, I was young enough that sexual energy was still a total mystery to me, but I remember being conscious of how I laid across the deck chair, as if I were channeling Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra or something.
What a joke. I'm not even sure if he noticed me that day. He was so busy playing chicken with the other popular kids, getting dunked by the older girls so frequently it made my blood boil.
"So obviously he couldn't promise me anything,” Ethan said. “But at least the guy has some connections and said he'd be happy to try and help you any way that he can.”
"Well, I can't thank you enough." I smoothed my napkin over my lap. "Even if he can't do anything for me, just the experience of getting in front of someone is a step in the right direction."
"Did you have any luck online today?" he asked, biting his piece of bruschetta in half.
I shrugged. "It's hard to say." I took a slice of bruschetta from the center of the table and set it on my bread plate. "I mean, there is clearly enough work out there that I could get something. However, a few of the gigs I found might not be a step in the right direction for my dignity, if that makes sense."
He laughed. "It does, and I hate to break it to you, but the fact that there's something for everyone in this city is both the best and worst thing about it."
"Trust me, after checking Craig's list today, I believe that more than ever."
"Just be careful," he said, his face suddenly serious.
I felt my chest tighten.
"If you even feel moderately sketchy about a job, either don't go, or ask me to come with you."
"Okay."
"Promise me, Jenny."
"I promise."
"Good. That should help me make progress on how pissed I still am about what happened to you yesterday."
I raised my eyebrows. "Are you still not over that? Even I'm over it. Sexual harassment happens, Ethan."
"Not to you it doesn't," he said. "Not on my watch."
I hated that he was still torn up about it, but I loved the fact that there was actually a man in my life who wanted to protect me. It felt good in a way that I wanted to believe I deserved.
And it reminded me of something my mom
said once about Ethan's dad. She said, "I don't care that he's controlling, Jenny. I don't care that he's set in his ways and that his time in the army will always affect his personality. And I don't care if other people think the standards he holds people to are extreme. All I care about is that he would go to his grave trying to protect the things he loves, and I'm lucky to be one of those things."
And for a split second, it occurred to me that maybe Ethan and his dad weren't as different as Ethan wanted to believe.
"You enjoying that?" he asked.
I covered my chewing mouth, nodded, and swallowed. "More than I want to admit."
"Good."
"Don't judge me, but Brandi and I ordered bruschetta at a restaurant at home last summer-"
"Mistake."
"I know," I said. "But I always wanted to try it."
"I'm afraid for where this story is going."
"They were out of tomatoes."
He shook his head.
"So they used ketchup."
He raised his eyebrows. "So you essentially ate subpar pizza bread."
"It wasn't great."
He smiled. "There's a shock."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot," he said, leaning back in his chair. His collared shirt gaped open at the top just enough to keep my eyes from straying too far.
"What is it that you love so much about bartending?" I asked, taking a sip of my white wine. "I mean, I know I've been rambling on about my acting so I'm just curious…"
"There's a lot I like about it," he said. "I like that I can always get better at it. I like that it's something other people appreciate, something that's going to be in demand for a long time to come."
"True."
"And I like that I work around people who are out to have a good time."
"Understandable."
"I guess after all that time in boarding school where everything was so regimented and where having too much fun was not only frowned upon but subject to disciplinary action, it's a relief to spend time in an environment that's refreshingly unpredictable."
“Mmm.”
"For example." He fixed his eyes on me. "I don't know if you know this, but in Russia, little kids are taught in school that they shouldn't go around smiling because it comes across as needy and disingenuous. Same with people in the workforce. If you're engaged in serious business- whether you're in sales or waitressing or a postal worker- then you shouldn't be smiling."