Once the shock wore off, Lindsey didn’t look spurned by the joke at all, but rather, enthralled at the energy it had injected into the conversation. The woman who wasn’t going to buy anything passed by them, creeping along the wooden floor slow as a slug.
They all gave her ugly looks as she went by and then out the door.
“Do you think she stole something?” Lindsey asked aloud, looking after the woman.
“I don’t think so,” Mallory said. “I hope not.”
“Do you just accuse anyone who doesn’t buy something of stealing?” Patrick asked Lindsey.
“So what if I do? She stole some of Mallory’s time, and made her grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy,” Mallory said.
“I think she looks cute when she’s grumpy,” Patrick said.
“I’m not grumpy!” Mallory snapped.
Christine was watching Lindsey closely, perhaps to see how she would handle the inevitable question that was coming of how Mallory and Patrick knew one another.
“You guys are friends?” Lindsey finally phrased the question.
“We’re kindred spirits,” Patrick said.
“Yes,” Mallory said, “that’s correct. We’re friends, sort of.”
“We are definitely friends,” Patrick said.
Mallory didn’t appreciate the insinuation he put behind the word. She looked at Lindsey. “He works with my fiancé.”
Lindsey gave an understanding nod. “That’s good he knows that you’re getting married. Though I doubt that would stop him.”
“I’m right here,” Patrick said. “And I resent what you’re implying.”
“Oh, he tried,” Mallory said. “And failed.”
The girls let out an Oooooo followed by laughs. Patrick shook his head, not begrudged but a little embarrassed.
“Maybe… in another life,” he said, focusing intently on Mallory’s green eyes with his.
His unfaltering stare made her partly uncomfortable, partly excited. All the emotions she felt being down in the bar with him came swirling back. The joking, having fun, dancing, him playfully insulting her and her back at him. She hadn’t had a man make her feel so carefree in a long time, and now he was looking at her in a way that—similarly—no man had in a long time. She was partly relieved that they weren’t alone.
Lindsey seemed to notice Patrick’s attention slipping away from her and onto Mallory, so she brought him back in with some interview-like questions. He answered them politely, though he kept an eye on Mallory. And smiled periodically at her, like there was some inside joke between them.
Patrick hung out at the store for a while, mostly chatting with Christine and Lindsey, but he made an effort to keep Mallory involved even though he didn’t have to. She was beginning to see a side of Patrick that she hadn’t before. In fact, though they’d only spent maybe two to three hours total around each other, it now felt like she knew him quite well.
The time flew, and with about twenty minutes until closing Mallory needed to get into the back to clean up. Patrick said he had to get going also. He gave Lindsey and Christine a hug, and said goodbye to Mallory with a wave that didn’t satisfy her. But she understood that he probably wasn’t going to cross that line again with her, even with something as platonic as a hug.
As he walked out the door, she rubbed the engagement ring on her finger neurotically, like it itched, burned maybe. She didn’t know why she was so taken with him. But still, even minutes after he’d gone she couldn’t get the image of his smile out of her mind.
***
They had counted the register and put the money into the safe. Christine had gone home a few minutes earlier and only Lindsey remained with Mallory in the shop. Mallory went for the lights.
“So you’ve known Patrick a while, huh?” Lindsey asked.
Mallory paused before flipping them off, then she met Lindsey at the door. “Not long, no.” Mallory recounted meeting him the day she ran over the cyclist and how he’d lied for her. Lindsey noticed the smile that crept across her lips.
“What?” Lindsey asked. “Why are you smiling? Did something happen with him?”
“No,” Mallory replied, shocked that the girl had the nerve to ask. “Of course not.”
“You think he’s sexy, don’t you?”
“Wow, inappropriate. I’m getting married soon.”
“I know. That’s why I’m worried about you. You were looking at Patrick funny. You know, in that special, butterflies in your tummy sort of way.”
“There has never been, nor will there ever be, butterflies in my tummy.” Mallory locked the doors to the store and they were left outside on the sidewalk. Had it been that obvious? she wondered to herself. “He is sort of sexy, I guess,” she admitted, finally. “It doesn’t change anything though.”
Lindsey was still standing there, obviously wanting to talk more about it.
“So how do you know him?” Mallory asked her.
“From school. We’ve hung out a few times.”
Mallory took on a questioning tone. “Hung out?”
Lindsey gave an all too familiar, mischievous smile. “You’re curious if we’ve done anything, aren’t you?”
“When I realized he came in to see you, I already assumed you had.”
Lindsey laughed, almost snorted. “I’m not a slut, Mallory.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Mallory couldn’t resist an embarrassed laugh, considering that’s what she’d basically just called the girl. “I just figured… I dunno, forget it.” She started down the sidewalk to her car and Lindsey followed. Usually the girl went straight to her car as fast as possible, but for one reason or another the topic of Patrick was enough to keep her attached to Mallory’s hip, at least for a little ways down the sidewalk.
“We have kissed a few times,” Lindsey said once they had gone a half block or so.
“I knew it.” Mallory didn’t normally engage in such gossiping. “How was it? Good kisser?”
Lindsey made a pleasurable face, like she’d just taken a bite of delicious cake. “I want to have his babies.”
“That good?”
Lindsey smiled wide and nodded.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yeah, soon. Well, I think so at least. I really want him to make a move, but he’s always preoccupied with his girlfriend.”
It didn’t take Mallory as much by surprise as the expression on her face led on. Truth was, she just didn’t think Patrick would’ve openly let Lindsey know he had a girlfriend. But then again, he’d told Mallory, and that hadn’t stopped him from trying something on her.
“You didn’t know that?”
Mallory shook her head, lying to the girl. “I told you I barely know him.”
“Sorry,” Lindsey said. “I assumed you knew.”
Mallory walked on, deep in thought. Lindsey noticed. “Are you sure nothing happened between you two? Patrick said something about how he tried with you, or something like that?”
“Nothing happened,” Mallory reiterated.
“Good, because I don’t think it’s right for you to do something like that to Teddy.”
The nerve of the girl. “Nor do I.”
“Patrick told me he’s going to end it with Tiffany, that’s his girlfriend. That’s why I’ve agreed to hang out with him.”
“You’re sure about that?” Mallory asked.
“I believe him.”
“And what then? The two of you will be together?”
Lindsey hesitated. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that. You can’t say anything to him about this, okay?”
“I won’t. I barely know him, like I said.”
“Okay, good. Truthfully, if I had the chance, I would probably date him. But I doubt it would last.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s who he is.”
Mallory wanted to reply, don’t you mean that’s who you are?
“He’s a fling guy,” Lindsey continued. “Not a boyf
riend guy. He’s the guy you call for a good time, no strings attached, when you’re lonely. Not when you’re looking for Mr. Right.”
“But you’d still ‘have his babies?’”
Lindsey laughed. “It’s an expression.”
Mallory laughed too. “That’s one I’ll have to throw around next time I’m at dinner with my parents.”
Lindsey ignored her. “I just want to see where it goes. Is that bad?” She crinkled her brow and was clearly expecting Mallory to convince her it wasn’t.
Mallory wondered the same thing in the depths of her imagination. But only wondered. Lindsey stopped walking and so Mallory stopped in turn.
“You’d tell me if something happened between you guys, right?” Lindsey asked. “Because I think we’re friends. I don’t want to hook up with someone my friend has hooked up with.”
“Lindsey, I said nothing happened.”
“I’m just going to put this out there. Please don’t get mad, but, if you need one last thrill before tying the knot, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get it out of the way, especially before you’re stuck for life. I mean, heck, maybe I could even help you with him somehow.”
“That would be cheating, sweetie.” Mallory wanted to punch the girl square in her nose.
“Yeah, but isn’t it better than waiting a few years and then having a meltdown?”
“I’m not going to have a meltdown.”
“But haven’t you at least wondered what it would be like? I mean, I’m not going to say anything to anyone or get mad or anything. It seems like there’s something he likes about you. I could see it when he came in. He wanted to talk to you. And even though you’re a little older, you’re still pretty.”
“Thanks,” she replied curtly. Mallory’s mood was shifting from perturbed to downright uncomfortable. She wondered if she was somehow being set up. “I haven’t wondered. And I’m not going to have a fling with Patrick a few months before my wedding. That’s all I have to say.”
Lindsey must’ve finally got the message to stop meddling because all she said was, “Okay.”
They said good-night then split off and went to their respective cars. Mallory got in and sat behind the wheel, fiddling with her keys, feeling suddenly lost in the world.
She’d missed out on Patrick’s kiss, pulled away when it would’ve been so easy to just let it happen. No one would’ve known. And here was some eighteen-year-old flooze talking so cheaply and openly about committing the very same transgression. Mallory weakly slid the key in the ignition, feeling ashamed of herself.
Just then, a text came in on her phone. It was from Patrick. Her heart suddenly jumped in her chest. How had he gotten her number?
Sorry about bothering u today. I honestly didnt know u workd there. wont happen again.
She thought about not replying, but it seemed like that might make it even more awkward the next time she saw him.
It’s ok.
She read over her reply a few times and wondered if she should’ve said more. She fired up the engine, thinking he wouldn’t text back. He did a second later.
Ok cool. It was good seeing u. Miss being able to talk to u, like at Falcs. Friends?
That was it. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to drink. She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, drove straight to the closest liquor store, and bought two bottles of wine. Before heading home, she picked up her phone and almost texted him back, but decidedly restrained herself, and to take it even further, she deleted his texts so that there was no way she could ever save his number.
Patrick
IT FELT SOMEWHAT NEGLIGENT AND at the same time exhilarating, to have a girl so young in his room.
Patrick was lying flat on his bed, his head propped up with pillows, reading through a chapter in his textbook about the psychologist, Alfred Adler, and couldn’t help but glance at her, sitting at his desk, swiveling in his creaky desk chair, scribbling notes with her small, delicate hands on notebook paper.
Reagan had had her head buried in a textbook for the better part of twenty minutes and now she looked to be writing out some sort of assignment on it. When Patrick had texted her to touch base, she’d suggested they hang out right away. When he told her that he had studying to do, he didn’t think she would still want to come over. But here she was, in his room, sitting in his favorite chair. And as much as he adored Adler, the text was becoming harder and harder to focus on.
Reagan was wearing a black dress with a floral design illustrated in gold lace running up the side of it. It was expensive looking and chic and it made her appear a bit older than she was, maybe twenty instead of seventeen. Her legs were crossed underneath the desk but every few moments she would swivel in the direction of his bed and her legs would appear, tanned and smooth, to distract him.
Her sexiness was slowly unnerving him. She also wore a funky beaded bracelet with a single mandarin symbol etched in each bead, and of course, the silver necklace with the lightning bolt rested in the middle of her chest again, half concealed in the top of the dress. Her hair was black as ever, beautiful, and looked like it’d just been ironed the way it fell straight down from her crown like a waterfall of oil.
“I can’t understand Joules,” she said, aloud, not turning her head to look at him. “They’re just impossible. And newtons…” She rubbed her forehead with those slender fingers.
“Fig Newtons?” he replied, not recalling one bit of high school chemistry. “What’s not to like? And jewels. They’re just shiny rocks, really. Not that hard to understand. Get it?”
She seemed amused by his dumb jokes.
“You left chemistry until your last semester?”
“I know, right? I’m paying for it now.”
He thought to himself for a moment, then stood up off the bed. “Maybe I can help you.”
She looked at him with those steely, grassy-colored eyes that seemed to latch into him like hooks. He stood next to the chair, put his hand on the back of it, inches from her shoulders, and leaned over her. He kept his eyes on the text, a horrible mess of complex formulas. “The gigajoule?” he said, bewildered. “That sounds like a mythical beast of some sort. Nope,” he told her, shaking his head, “I’m not going to be much help to you.” He smelled the fragrance she was wearing and it captured his imagination for a moment.
She looked up at him with wanting eyes.
“I’m more the philosopher type,” Patrick said, easing the tension. “I study people and their minds, not formulas. Personally, I don’t get General Ed. My dad always said it was better to be big time at one thing, than decent at a lot of things. He said he didn’t care what I was big time at, so long as I was big time at something.”
“So, what are you big time at?” she asked with a mocking laugh.
“Not much except looking good and schmoozing,” he admitted with a laugh.
“What about lying?” Reagan suggested.
He laughed harder. “You keep coming back to that.”
“I wonder why?” There was a flair of challenge in her eyes.
He smirked and flipped shut her heavy textbook. “Well how’s about we have a drink and play a game called Lie to Me. We’ll find out who’s really the liar.”
“I don’t drink.” Her face became somber very quickly and he realized he’d fucked up, forgetting that her mom had mentioned something about a drinking problem.
He suddenly felt like he’d hurt her with that careless slip of words. “Sorry about that, Reagan.” He stepped away and sat back down on the corner of the bed.
“Why are you sorry?”
He froze, not knowing what to say.
She lifted her precise eyebrows, as if to ask what the hell? “Oh yeah. I forgot. My mom told you, didn’t she? That lesbo bitch.”
“Lesbo?”
She didn’t elaborate. “What did she say to you again?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “Just that you…”
“What?”
“That you had
sort of an alcohol problem, but that you were past it, or something to that effect.”
She nodded. “She has a fucking mouth on her. I’m surprised she hasn’t sent out a newsletter to the whole city letting them know her daughter’s a drunk.”
Patrick didn’t say anything for moment. “But you’re not anymore, right? That’s something to be proud of.”
She looked at him earnestly and shrugged. “It led me down some roads that I didn’t think I’d ever go down, but it wasn’t all bad.”
Patrick laughed nervously. “I don’t need to clear the house of all the bottles, do I?”
She paused while an intensity filled her eyes, something far more uncontrollable than normal youth. She suddenly jumped out of the chair and launched herself at him. Patrick fell backward on the bed, completely startled, and Reagan hoisted her body onto him until she was over him, straddling his midsection. She pinned his wrists and was looking directly down into his eyes with the crazed madness of a fiend. “Where is it?” she shouted in his face. “Where’s the fucking booze, asshole!? Give it to me!”
“Reagan,” he pleaded, pinned beneath her, “take it easy.”
She started to laugh, lifted out of her straddle, slid off the bed, and sat back down in the desk chair. “I’m fucking with you.”
“Wow.” He blinked twice, rubbed both hands over his face, and sat up. “Trying to win an Oscar or something?”
“Actually, yes. I’m going to UCLA in the fall. I’ll be in class, but my dream is to act. Actually, an actress is all I’ve ever wanted to be.”
He pointed at her. “You want to pretend to be someone else every day?”
“Yes.” She laughed, shrugged and then nodded, sweeping strands of her black hair behind her ear. “But you’re getting paid.”
“Well whatever it is, it’s very ambitious.”
“What?” she said. “You don’t think I can hack it?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I like that you have big dreams. That’s hot.”
“What are your dreams?” she asked, leaning forward in the chair and looking at him plainly.
EDGES Page 16