by Isabel Jolie
Elle stumbles forward, and we follow. She reaches the end of the sidewalk and raises her hand. A yellow cab pulls up, and she jumps in. As the cab pulls away, I see her lie down on the back seat. Jeez. “I bet that cabbie is regretting picking her up right about now.”
Stacy laughs. “Think we could get another cab to come along and pick this one up?” she asks, angling her head at Delilah. At this point, Delilah’s hanging on us, face down, staring at the concrete on the sidewalk, incoherent.
“Let’s go to the ABC Diner and get some food in her.” I point down the street. It’s about two blocks away, but the black sign stands out against the brick building.
When we enter, it’s clear that six o’clock on a Saturday morning is a slow period. We have our choice of any booth in the place.
The waitress approaches us, takes one look at Delilah, and demands, “If she’s gonna puke, bathroom’s that way. Please don’t let her puke out here.”
Delilah peers up at her, eyes red and glassy. “Not gonna puke. Just tired. Need coffee. And hash browns. Cheese. Hash browns with cheese. French fries!”
“No French fries right now. Coffee and hash browns with cheese. What will you ladies have?”
Stacy and I order coffees and egg and cheese biscuits. By the time the coffee arrives, we’re recapping the night. Delilah sits with her head on the table, eyes closed.
“Who was the guy in black leather? He was grinding on you forever!”
“No idea. Not my type at all, though. Nose rings, I mean. Fun to dance with, look at, and all. Just not what I’m into these days.”
The waitress stops by to deliver food and refill our coffee mugs. Then she leaves the coffee pitcher on the table. Smart.
“What is your type these days?” Stacy asks.
“Hmmm. Off the top of my head? An REI kind of guy? Or any of the models in the Sundance Catalog. What about you?” Weekend Jackson. Jackson before and after work.
Stacy sips her coffee, reflecting. “Well, I have to say, I wouldn’t think I’d find my type in a club. My type is going to be at a Deadhead cover band show. I like them with long hair, cool t-shirts, ripped jeans, Birks.”
“Yeah, we are so not going to find your man at a club. I’ll go to shows with you. You find the show, and I’ll go with you.”
She nods. “Maybe. There is this bartender I’ve been eyeing.”
“What bar?”
“Sullivan’s. It’s near my place.”
The rest of our breakfast, Stacy gives me the full scoop on Ryder from the pub while intermittently forcing Delilah to raise her head and eat.
We all share a cab Uptown. Stacy said she’d bring Delilah back to her apartment, so they drop me off first. I wave goodbye, close the door, and see Jackson in his morning running gear. He flicks his wrist, reading the time.
“Seven twenty a.m.? You’re getting home at seven twenty a.m.?” he asks, anger and irritation soaking his words.
“Yeah.” Jackson glares at me. In the back of my mind, I can almost see Delilah waving her finger, taunting me with a “someone’s in trouble.” Glare away, Jackson. I can do what I want.
“Don’t you need to walk your dog?”
“Yep. Heading up now.”
I tilt my head up, defiant, and charge past him. He’s right. My dog needs to be let out. Bad dog mom, right here. Sure. But his angry face pisses me off. He’s not my dad. Not my keeper. Not my boyfriend. No need to sit around and be grilled by a prosecuting attorney. He’s gonna rile me up.
Five minutes later, Chewie pulls me outside, tugging full force on her leash. I did take a minute to change into sweats and tennis shoes. My feet throb from a night out in sky-high heels. Chu pulls me hard toward the bushes along the front of one side of our apartment building. As soon as we reach the patch of dirt, she squats.
“Where’d you go out last night?”
“Holy fuck!” I jump. “Where did you come from? You scared me.”
“I scared you?” Anger ripples through his words.
“Yeah. I didn’t see anyone out here. Where did you come from?”
“I scared you?” he repeats, glaring at me. “You never answered my text last night.”
Oh. That. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see your text until three in the morning and figured you’d already gone to sleep. We were out dancing. I told you I sometimes go out dancing on Fridays.”
“Until seven a.m.?”
“Well, last night was on the late side for us. Delilah had a bit too much to drink, so we went to the diner to get her some food.”
“What about you?” he grits out.
“What about me?”
“Did you have too much to drink?”
“Nah. I mostly drank water. We danced for hours. It’s been an insane week. Left from the office.” I fiddle with the leash in my hand. “Anyway, I’m going to walk Chewie around the block and crash.”
Jackson jogs away down the sidewalk toward the park.
“Wait, are you mad at me?” I call. Friends with benefits don’t get mad. Anger courses through me. He thinks he has a right to get mad? So mad he would walk away? The equivalent of a hang-up mad?
Jackson flips around, walking backward to the intersection so he faces me. “Nope. Why would I be mad? See ya later,” he shouts, right as the light changes and he runs across the intersection.
Chapter 18
Jackson
“Hey, man, let’s head to White Horse instead. I’m not up for this tonight.” The line wraps around the corner at the Corner Bistro. I love a Corner Bistro burger as much as anyone, but their refusal to accept reservations, forcing patrons to circle the place for empty tables, irks me. Today, my patience level nears zero. It’s not a Corner Bistro night.
Chase looks like he’s about to argue but changes his mind. Smart man. Today is not the day to piss me off. “Okay, but you’re buying,” he snaps.
We don’t speak again until we’re seated with beers in hand at the White Horse. Chase has been playing with his phone the whole time. I pull mine out too and flip through email.
After we’ve both swallowed long drags of our beer, Chase breaks the silence. “So, what has your panties in a wad?”
“Fuck you.”
Chase holds his hands up in the air. “Hey, man. I’m sorry. That was supposed to be a chill way of asking what’s wrong.”
I don’t say anything.
“Something’s clearly wrong. I haven’t seen you in weeks, so I know it’s not something I did.”
What is wrong with me? Why have I been in such a piss-poor mood all day? Yes, it pissed me off to see Anna hopping out of a cab at seven fucking o’clock in the morning. In a tight black sexy-as-fuck dress and fuck-me heels. But it’s not like she’d been with a guy. I saw two girls in the cab with her. She could have fucking responded to my text. I’d had crazy scenarios going through my head all night. Worried something had happened to her. Worried she’d gotten drunk and was hooking up with someone. Remembering those days at Carolina where she’d be drinking with guys and practically climbing them while dancing.
“If you don’t plan on speaking at all, then I’m gonna head out after we eat. I’d rather stare at a TV tonight.”
“Fuck, man. You’re right. I’m not sure why I’m so out of it. Guess it’s just been a long day working on this merger I’ve been busy with.”
Chase squints at me, sipping his beer. “Nope. Don’t buy it.”
He’s right. A stressful case wouldn’t put me in a bad mood. A stressful case might have me working through the night, but I wouldn’t be angry. Not unless I lost a case. And I don’t lose cases. I don’t lose negotiations.
I focus on my breathing, catch the eye of our waitress, and signal for another round. “You’re right. That’s not it. I don’t feel like talking about it. But I’ll carry on a conversation. Deal?”
“Whatever, dude. If you wanted someone to harp on you about feelings, you’d have a girl sitting in my chair. How you getting settled?”
“It’s good. There are things I like. Central Park. All the restaurants. Not having to drive everywhere. Not dealing with traffic. Being able to drink at dinner and walk outside and grab a cab.”
“Yeah, the city has good stuff. How’s the apartment?”
I snort. “Yeah, that’s where the city sucks. I mean, my apartment is fine. It’s a sublet, though. There’s a Realtor who’s been sending me listings. I’m thinking I want to buy in the Lower West Side.”
“Not an Upper East Side guy?”
“It’s fine. Close to the park. I’d miss Central Park. But it’d make more sense to be closer to work.”
“Not digging the packed subway?”
I smirk. “I don’t take the subway.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What do you do? Bus?”
“I’m a junior partner. The firm has a driver for me.”
“You take a fucking car?”
“I make calls and read on the way to work.”
“You fucker!”
“What can I say? The firm takes care of its own.”
“Yeah, well. My firm does not take care of its accountants. I guess the free crappy coffee is their version of taking care of us.”
The beer and conversation seem to be loosening me up. My tense muscles relax a bit. “So, yeah, I’m thinking Lower West Side might not be so bad. They have good running trails along the Hudson. Some good choices between condos and some brownstones. Once my place in Atlanta sells, I’ll focus on buying here to roll those proceeds over.”
“Yeah, I like it down there. Not a bad choice.”
“What about you? You and Angela gonna move in together soon?”
Chase grimaces. “Not a good topic.”
I catch the waitress’s eye and signal for another round. I’m downing these like water. “She putting pressure on?”
“Dude, you have no idea.”
“With rent like it is, it’s not such a bad idea.”
“Maybe with some girls. But trust me, the moment we move in together, the pressure would increase tenfold to put a ring on it.”
“Is she not the one?” I’m not the kind of guy to dive deep with friends, but that’s the crux of the issue.
“Nah, she’s not.”
“How long have you been together?”
“Over a year.”
“And why, exactly, are you still together if she’s not the one?”
He taps his knuckle on the table. “I don’t know. She wants to do something every single night. I make excuses. She gets angry. It’s a vicious cycle.”
Interesting. I jump at the chance these days to see Anna after work. Hell, if I hadn’t been so angry at her today, I’d be doing something with her tonight. And she’s just a friend. “Man, you’ve got to end it. None of that sounds good.”
“I’ve been hoping she’d end it.” He sounds exasperated.
I don’t know what to advise him, but I know someone who will. “You want a woman’s perspective on this?” I flip my phone over on the table and hand it to him. “Call Anna and have her meet us here. She’ll tell you.”
He rocks back in his chair. “Anna?”
“Yeah, you said you guys are friends, right?”
“Well, yeah. Have you seen her much?”
I nod. “Yeah. We go running together each morning before work. We’ve been hanging out sometimes after work too. She’s right down the hall. You know.”
“What’s she up to tonight?”
“Well, she was out last night until seven in the morning. Usually, when she pulls a hard Friday night, she stays in Saturday. But I bet you could talk her into coming out for a beer.”
“To the Lower West Side? You clearly don’t know Anna. If she’s staying in, she’s curled up with Chu, and she’s already topped at least one bottle of wine by now.”
I tap my fingers against the table. How exactly does he know that about her?
Ignoring my phone, he picks his up and taps away. I scan the pub, hunting for our waitress. Another round is in order. As I raise my hand to motion for another round, Chase pulls it down.
“Anna says to come on up. Let’s pay and go.”
ANNA’S DOOR OPENS AS we step off the elevator. She must have been listening for the ding. Doesn’t want Chewie to start barking when we approach. It’s after ten o’clock, a little late for a loud dog.
Chewie pushes past her, and I hold out my hand with a sit command. She sits, and I bend to scratch behind her ears. I don’t have her treats, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Anna’s honey brown eyes lock with mine. This is what I needed. To see her. The tightness in my chest I hadn’t realized was there eases.
Chase gives her a brief hug and heads into the apartment, leaving the two of us in the hall. “Hey, thanks for letting us come up.”
“Is he okay?”
“I think he needs a female perspective.”
“What about you? You okay?”
Without thinking, I brush a kiss against her soft lips. “Yeah. I am now.”
She smiles up at me and pushes the door wide open. I let her hand go when I see Chase standing in her kitchen. It’s not that I want to hide anything between us, but I sure as hell don’t want to try to explain friends with benefits to Chase.
An empty bottle of wine sits on her kitchen counter. She’s out of vino, so I step out to get her a bottle of mine. Chase and I brought a twelve-pack from a deli with us. I’d told him a six-pack was more than enough, but he wanted to be sure we didn’t run out.
I use my key to let myself back in. Anna’s giving Chase a hug, her back to me. His arms circle her like a friend. It’s a friendly hug. My free hand still rolls into a fist, and I grit my teeth, forcing the muscles in my cheeks to flex. Damn. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never liked the idea of Chase having his hands on her. Four years ago, the thought sent me into a tailspin, furious. I sure as hell don’t like it now. She’s mine.
No, she’s not mine. We are friends. I don’t want a relationship. No time. Damn. My emotions roil inside. Anger. Jealousy. This shit’s gonna fuck me up if I’m not careful. Casual. I need to chill.
They break apart, and she pats his arm as if he’s a dog.
“You guys already talk it out?”
Chase flops down on her big chair. “Yeah. Seems she’s on the same page as you. If I don’t like spending time with her, then it’s time to end things.”
Anna sits down on one end of the futon, leaving plenty of room for me to sit too. “Not exactly what I said.” She crosses her legs, a half smile on her face. “I said if you don’t like spending time with her, then you need to figure out why. And if you can’t fix whatever the issue is, then it’s probably time to end things. You’re almost thirty years old. None of this is rocket science.”
I head into the kitchen to pour Anna a glass of wine. Then I decide I’ll switch over to wine as well and pour myself a glass.
Chase runs his hand through his hair. “I’m just tired of all the fighting. I like her. Hell, I love her. But we used to be friends, you know? We used to like hanging out. Now it’s an endless stream of fights, and most of those fights are about her wanting more. But I want less, not more. Like, if we get married, are we going to magically start getting along?”
We may have come for a female perspective, but I jump in anyway. “No, dude. I’ve never been married, but I did learn a little from marriage law. It can be rock solid awesome and still end up in divorce. But if it’s rocky before the marriage, you can bet your ass it’ll end in divorce. Marriage is not the answer to a relationship with issues. Ever.”
Chase and Anna both look surprised at my outburst.
“Hey, just telling it like it is.”
Chase bends forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
Anna quietly adds, “I agree with Jackson.”
Chase lifts his head. “You don’t think she’ll break up with me? Because I’d so much prefer that. I don’t want to hurt her.”
&n
bsp; Anna gives him a sad smile. “Eventually, yeah, she’ll end things. But if you wait around until then, you may hate each other by the time she does. And isn’t it kind of leading her on, if she thinks you guys have a chance at forever, and you don’t?” Anna speaks with the wisdom of experience.
He sets his beer down on the coffee table and stands. His phone has been vibrating the whole night. He holds it out for us to see. “She has texted me, like, fifty times tonight.” He sighs. “It’s time.” He throws his empty beer in the garbage.
“Wait, you are going to do it now?” Anna asks, flicking her wrist to see the time.
“Might as well get it over with. She’s texting me nonstop to come over. What am I gonna do? Go over and pretend everything’s okay? I mean, you’re right. Putting off the inevitable isn’t fair to her.”
Anna follows Chase to the door and gives him a hug. “I’m here for you if you need anything.” She tosses her head my direction. “So is that guy.”
Chase nods at us both, a sad expression on his face, and raps the door with his hand. “See you guys later.”
Anna closes the door and returns to the futon. I pull her close to my side, and she starts Saturday Night Live.
We don’t speak. She curls her legs up under her, and I hold her close. Nothing has ever felt so right. This is what I’ve needed the whole day. To be sitting here, holding her, breathing her in. If timing were different, could Anna and I have a chance at forever? Because when I think about what I want in my life partner, Anna is it. Just not right now. We wouldn’t be dating long at all before Anna would be the girl texting me, like, fifty times, asking when I’m leaving the office or what I’m doing.
She falls asleep against me. Saturday Night Live ends, and another show comes on. I sit there, holding her until I fear she might wake up and wonder why I’m still sitting there. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable, so I turn the TV off and pick her up. I carry her into her bedroom and pull the covers over her, leaning down to kiss her forehead once. I brush my lips over hers to wish her goodnight.
Her eyes flutter open. She reaches up and fingers my hair as she pulls me down for another soft kiss. She opens up, inviting a deeper kiss. Our tongues play in a seductive dance that sends blood coursing to my cock. I flip the comforter away and climb on the bed, fully clothed, positioning myself between her legs. I lift her shirt off, then push the cups of her bra below her breasts. Her breasts spill over, her nipples erect. I drop my head, taking first one then the other into my mouth. Biting, then softly sucking, eliciting a purring noise.