“Sounds good to me,” Alex said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
They watched him strip to his T-shirt, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his Fruit of the Loom. Jenna mentally photographed the perfect V of his back to his waist as he rushed out the door. “See you in twenty,” he said as he left.
“Phew,” Penny said, fanning herself dramatically. “Does he have a bod or what? He’s the best-looking asshole I’ve ever met.”
“Tell me about it,” Jenna said, sighing. Turning her attention back to Penny, she asked, “So what’s the plan for tonight? Are we looking for men?”
“Hell, yeah.” Penny’s serial-dating prospects had fizzled over the past few weeks. “I plan on hooking up. You won’t, though,” she said as she walked into the bedroom and looked in the mirror.
“Why not?” Jenna said. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. But you don’t do that,” Penny said. “Since I’ve known you, you haven’t hooked up for a one-nighter.”
“You sound like Alex. Sorry I’m not easy like you two,” Jenna teased. “You know Alex’s friend Steve, who helped with the move? Alex said he has the hots for you.”
“A redhead, huh? That sounds promising. Maybe you should try Alex again.”
“Nah. Been there, done that. I feel too good to deal with rejection tonight. There have to be other fish in the sea, right? Maybe some of them will swim to the Hamptons.”
Penny looked her over. “You’re not going to have a problem hooking a fish tonight, Jen.”
Jenna paced, excited to get the night moving, while Penny called Scott. Finally, a half hour later, she hopped into Penny’s car and directed her down the block to the pizza place, where Alex stood outside on the curb in his T-shirt scarfing down a slice.
They honked as he shoved the rest of the slice down his throat, then he walked around the car to the driver’s side. He insisted on driving, complaining he couldn’t fit in the back comfortably. Penny grumbled but gave in and slid next to Jenna. Soon, Dom shoved himself next to the girls, and Scott sat in front with Alex.
The ride to Long Island took forever. The women and Dom, a journalist in the fashion industry, talked about shoes, trends, and clothes while Scott and Alex fought about traffic patterns and directions. After a two-hour drive, with Penny yelling at Alex for driving like a maniac, they arrived at the club.
Jenna checked out Club One from their parking spot in the lot across the street. The club sat on the beach, and she could smell the salty ocean air. Alex looked around tentatively as he exited the car.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Penny and the guys walked across the street to the entrance and stood in the long line.
Alex jangled the keys in his hand and looked out toward the ocean. “Being here brings up a lot of memories. My mom used to bring me to the beach. I don’t know why I’m thinking about that now. I guess seeing Dylan, remembering the past, it’s churning it up.”
Jenna knew about Alex’s mother abandoning him. His story made her appreciate her parents waiting until she was old enough to understand, if not accept, their leaving. Alex’s mom didn’t give him the same courtesy.
“Focus on the good memories,” Jenna advised. “Maybe we can make new ones. We haven’t had a beach day yet.”
“We’ve been busy. Let’s try and go before the summer’s over,” Alex said, zoning out as he looked at the club.
“Deal. I love you, you know?” she added.
“I know. Come here.” He pulled her in to a bear hug and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Stecs.” Then he released her and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
And like that, he was back to himself, teasing her as he led her into the club.
Chapter 8
Clare
Clare ran late getting Dylan to the airport, so she dropped him off before parking so he could make his flight. She pulled to the curb, got out of the truck, and walked around to the passenger side. “Have fun in New York,” she said, hugging him. “I’ll look for your red carpet pictures.”
He squeezed her tightly. “I wish you were coming with me.”
Clare melted at his words and at the way his arms felt around her. She could barely look him in the eye, but she knew she had to take care of things in Nebraska before she could deal with her feelings for Dylan. “I’ll see you Sunday. Text me when you get in. I’m due in about an hour before you, so I should be here somewhere.”
“Promise me something?” He stepped away and pulled his suitcase out of the back of her truck.
“Anything,” she said.
He put it down next to his feet and swiped his hair from his eyes. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
“Lusty! Of course I’m coming back,” she said. “You think I’d leave you here all alone in this big city? Not to mention my cat is still here. Lord knows I can’t count on you to take care of her.” Dylan hated Angelica. The feeling was mutual.
“That’s good collateral. If you don’t come back, I’m bringing Angelica to the shelter.”
Clare giggled.
“I’m serious. I’m scared you’re going to get on that plane and I’m never going to see you again. You’ll go back to Nebraska and start riding horses and planning a wedding and be like, ‘Screw L.A., I’m staying,’ and then I’ll be waiting here at the airport for days—”
“Dylan, stop. That’s not going to happen. Someone would save you from the airport anyway. This place is to the paparazzi what a picnic is to ants. They are probably snapping our picture now.”
“Nah, they don’t know me yet. Maybe after this weekend with the premiere. Geez, I’ll have to hide out in the airport while I wait for you. I mean it, Nebraska, you better come back! Maybe I should take the keys to the truck.”
“No. I’m keeping them. I’m coming back. I promise, okay? Now get out of here. You’re going to miss your flight.”
He smiled and kissed her head, then went through the automatic doors into LAX. She hopped back into the truck and headed for long-term parking.
By the time she settled into her terminal, she had an hour to kill. She pulled out her iPod, stuffed the earbuds into her ears, and picked up a Cosmo someone had discarded on a nearby chair. She flipped through it and stopped at a Lust cologne ad.
Dylan stared back at her through brooding, sexy, gold eyes. The picture didn’t capture the flecks, but Clare could imagine them. She ripped out the ad and shoved it into her purse, sighing.
After an uneventful flight, she settled the minute she landed in Omaha. This is going to be harder than I thought.
She rented a car and drove herself to Cliffville, where she arrived just in time for Friday night happy hour at John’s Pub. She drove directly to John’s and parked in the crowded lot, certain her girls would be there.
As soon as Clare stepped out of the car, she heard the familiar tunes from the jukebox blaring through the walls. She checked her hair and makeup, straightened her shirt and smoothed her jeans, locked her bags in the trunk, and headed toward the big, heavy wooden door.
Disoriented by the darkness and the crowded interior, she thought about turning around and leaving until she heard Cindy’s voice.
“Clare? Oh my God!” Clare squinted to see Cindy, but her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted. When she felt Cindy’s arms around her, she knew she was home.
“Surprise,” Clare said.
Cindy screamed and jumped up and down. Soon, Clare could make out her strawberry-blonde hair and her intense, brown eyes. Cindy pulled her through the pub, and Clare nodded at the familiar, smiling faces
Melissa and Emmy sat at a nearby table. “Bear! What are you doing here?” Melissa said as they jumped up and hugged her across the table. “We didn’t know you were coming home! How long are you here? I’m going to kill Lucas for not telling me.”
Clare and Cindy slid into the booth.
“You look so pretty,” Emmy said. “You’re so tan!”
“Tan?” Clare said, looking down at her arms.
Compared to her friends’ pale complexions, her arms did seem a little more colorful. “I’m ghost-white in California. You guys look great. I’ve missed you so much! I knew you’d be here. I came straight from the airport.”
Sitting at the booth across from her three best friends felt so natural and easy. She hoped being with Lucas would too.
“Is everything okay at the farm?” Cindy asked.
Clare explained that she’d taken a couple of days off and decided last minute to hop a flight. She wanted to see them all, check on her parents and the horses. She didn’t mention Lucas and hoped they wouldn’t notice. They did.
“Lucas says you barely speak to him since you moved to California,” Cindy said.
“I’ve been really busy with the store. You should see what a mess it is.” Clare hadn’t kept Lucas or her friends up to speed on her life, besides some basic, vague emails. She was elusive in texts and didn’t answer their calls.
“Oh, Clare Bear. You can’t lie to us, sweetie,” Melissa said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “First, though, tell us everything. What’s Cali like? Have you met any celebrities?”
Clare told them about her ride out, the apartment, the store, and her coworkers. She described the national parks, the city, and the beach. Melissa and Emmy had been to Florida, but Cindy, like Clare previously, had never been to an ocean. Cindy listened intently as Clare described the sand, the vastness of the water, the force of the waves, and the heat of the sun. She told them how everyone in LA was so weird, and tan, and beautiful, and healthy, and how practically everyone was trying to break into some form of show business.
Clare asked the women about Cliffville as she poured herself a beer from the pitcher on the table. They told her the town gossip and filled her in on all of their lives. Melissa was dating a cop, Emmy was applying to colleges, Cindy was thinking of moving to Omaha. Before she knew it, Clare had drunk three beers, and they were passing around shots.
“So who do you hang out with in California? The Kardashians?” Cindy asked.
Clare laughed. “I have not met a Kardashian yet, Cin. I guess they don’t frequent the bookstore.”
“I’m sensing something’s on your mind, Bear. I’ve known you since kindergarten, and I know when you are hiding something,” Cindy said.
“Leave her alone, Cindy,” Melissa slurred. Then she turned to Clare. “Don’t tell her, tell me. What is it? You in love with a surfer?”
“A surfer? No,” Clare drew out the word. “But I did make a friend. He’s awesome.”
“He?” All three of them asked in unison.
“Yes, he. He is of the male variety,” Clare said. Her lips tingled, and she pictured Dylan’s smile.
“Spill it, Davis,” Melissa said. “Are you here to break Lucas’s heart?”
Clare dropped her head into her hands and flopped onto the table.
“Oh shoot,” Emmy said. “This looks bad.”
“It’s not bad,” Clare said. “He’s just so gosh-darned sweet. And beautiful. And attentive. And…normal. Everyone there is so strange, and he’s not.”
“Oh my! You are in love,” Melissa said.
“I’m not in love,” Clare slurred. “I don’t know. It’s not like that. We’re just friends. He’s sweet. It’s not complicated.” Clare couldn’t put into words her relationship with Dylan. She loved the simplicity of it. It just was.
“What’s his name?” Cindy asked.
“Dylan.”
“Sounds like a cowboy,” Emmy said.
“He totally could be. He has the personality. Everyone in LA is so busy and active and nutty, and he’s so calm and relaxed all the time.” Clare pictured him napping on the beach.
“How’d you meet?” Emmy asked.
The girls dove into an order of Buffalo wings as Clare told them the story of how she’d crashed into Dylan’s car on the freeway. After another shot, she told them how he’d tracked her down in the store and offered to show her around.
“You sleep with him yet?” Emmy asked.
“Emmy! No. We’re just friends.”
“Um-hm,” the three girls murmured.
“Then why do you seem so conflicted?” Cindy asked.
Clare tried her best to explain, despite her spinning head. “Because everything in California is like a dream. This dream that started out as a nightmare I couldn’t wait to wake up from. When I first got there, I hated it all. The whole damn state.”
She waved her arms for emphasis and knocked over an almost-empty pitcher. Everyone in the pub cheered, and the waitress hurried over with a towel and a full replacement pitcher.
“Since I’ve met him, everything is turning from a nightmare into a sweet, awesome dream I don’t want to end. But it’s still a make-believe land. Remember Mr. Rogers when the trolley came?” Clare focused on her friends’ faces as they stared at her. “Well?”
They nodded.
“It’s like that. I hopped on the trolley, and now I don’t want to get back off.”
“You aren’t coming back?” Melissa asked.
“I’m not saying that. I mean, I don’t know. I wanted to come back and be in the real world. See Lucas, my parents. Try to refocus. I don’t know anything.” Clare felt like a jerk as her friends watched her. “I love you guys. I know that for sure.”
“Clare Bear, we’ll support you no matter what,” Cindy said.
Clare pouted and leaned into her. “Thanks. I don’t deserve it. I haven’t been the best friend.”
“You are finding yourself. That’s what this experiment was about, right?” Emmy said. “Now what about this Dylan guy? He’s single and available?”
“Yup. Some witch broke his heart, and now he’s afraid of us all.”
Melissa slurred, “All it takes is one bad woman to give us all a bad name.” The others nodded and sighed in agreement.
“Do you have a picture of him?” Emmy asked.
“Actually, I do,” Clare said as she dug through her purse. She pulled out the Lust ad, unfolded it, and handed it across the table to Melissa and Emmy.
Speechless, they looked from the paper to Clare. They handed the picture across the table to Cindy, who perused it and did the same.
Clare shrugged. “I know.” She poured herself another glass of beer and chugged it down, carefully replacing the pitcher while her friends stared at her dumbfounded.
Emmy spoke first. “Isn’t that Dylan Barnes?”
“Yep,” Clare said.
“Wasn’t he on Sunrise, Sunset?” Melissa asked.
“Yep,” Clare said again. She poured herself another.
“Wait. We’re talking about Dylan Barnes right now? The gladiator movie I saw a preview for last week?” Cindy asked.
Clare started to chug again. They waited for her reply, so she nodded. “Yep.”
Emmy grabbed the paper from Cindy and examined the picture. “My Lord, Clare. He’s absolutely godlike.”
“Yep.”
The three women stared, waiting for an explanation.
“What?” Clare asked. “What do you want me to say? I rear-ended him. I know he’s gorgeous, but he’s super nice too. Very sweet. We sort of…connected. In a friendly way.”
“You’re dating Dylan Barnes?” Cindy yelled. “And you couldn’t bother to tell us?”
Clare shushed her and leaned across the table. The pub had ears. “We’re not dating. We go to the beach sometimes or just hang around. Except one time we went to a Hollywood thing.”
“What’s a ‘thing’?” Emmy asked.
“That’s what he called it. A ‘thing.’ His stylist got me a gown, and they did my makeup. It was some sort of charity event or something.”
“Wait, what?” Cindy asked. “A gown? A stylist? I am so mad at you for not telling me any of this.”
“He needed a date. He begged me—”
Melissa threw up her hands. “He begged you? Like begged?”
“He didn’t want to go alone.”
�
��Wait. Rewind a second. Did you say that you go to the beach together?” Emmy asked.
Clare fake smiled while they watched her, knowing how lucky she was and understanding their shock. They waited for more information, so Clare added, “I know. The first time he took off his shirt, I nearly fainted. That picture,” she said, pointing to the magazine ad, “does not do him justice.”
“You seem really calm about this,” Melissa said.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t think of him as a movie star. He’s just…Dylan. He’s really—”
“Sweet, we know,” Cindy finished, rolling her eyes.
“Well, he is!” Clare said. “Not that I don’t want to rub him down with baby oil.”
“Clare!” Emmy said.
“Did I say that out loud?” Clare asked as she covered her mouth and stifled a hiccup. “Okay, do you see my problem? I mean, what do I do?”
“I think you should slather him in baby oil, Clare,” Cindy said matter-of-factly, studying the magazine ad. The other two agreed, nodding as they looked over the picture.
“Did you all forget about Lucas?”
“Lucas,” they murmured.
“Crap,” Emmy said. “Lucas.”
“Yes. Lucas,” Clare repeated.
They sat in silence, contemplating, but nobody offered solutions.
Melissa shook the photo over the table. “The woman who broke his heart. It’s that bitch Sierra from Sunrise. I read about this in Soap Opera Digest.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. That’s why I came here instead of going home. Dylan’s in New York at some premiere. He asked me to go with him, but I thought I needed to come here and confront my issues. I don’t know.”
Clare took the picture of Dylan and folded it back into her purse. “Darn. It’s like eight o’clock and I’m wasted. How am I going to get home? I can’t drive.”
“Maybe you should call Lucas. It may be easier to talk to him now that you’re drunk,” Cindy suggested.
Clare hugged her friends, put some money on the table, and stood to leave. After good-nights and good-lucks and plan-making for the next day, Clare left the girls and weaved her way to the ladies’ room.
The Love Square Page 9