I agree, mostly to get away from the cloud of his cologne for a minute, and she closes the door behind us and whispers, “Well? What do you think?”
I frown. “Of what?”
She frowns back, even harder, and jerks her head toward the door.
“Him? I think he’s creepy.”
“No, you don’t,” she whispers, then digs her hand into my shoulder and pulls me closer. As she does, I catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath and wonder how many of her rum-spiked eggnogs she’d had before my arrival. “He’s got a job,” she somehow manages to snap while whispering. “And his own apartment, and a car. It doesn’t run right now but he’s working on it. I play bingo with his grandmother and she says his ex-wife was a horrible person and he just needs a good woman to straighten him out. And you don’t have a man, and if you didn’t manage to get one on that show I can’t see how you ever will, so don’t be a fool, Ashley. Take this one, while you can.”
*****
Through her tears of laughter, Shannon says, “He can’t be real. He’s like the stereotype of every obnoxious guy all rolled into one. What did you say?”
I wipe away my own tears. “What could I say? She obviously thought the jackass was the best I could do, which is hugely insulting, but that’s Grandmother for you. So...” I grimace and take a long drink of my cheap sparkling wine. “I’m not proud of this, but I told her I thought he was too good for me so it wouldn’t work out.”
Becky chokes on her drink. When she’s able to breathe again, she says, “You did? Why?”
I shrug. “I figured it was the only way to shut her up. If I said I was too good for him she’d tear me down, but she likes agreeing that people aren’t any good, especially that I’m not, so I thought she would.”
Shannon brushes some lava cake crumbs from her sequined skirt. “And?”
“And...” I drink a bit more wine, to draw out the suspense, then say, “And she fell for it. She sighed and said I was right and went back out and told him that she was sorry she’d wasted his time but we were too different for it to ever work out.”
They laugh, but I don’t, remembering how he’d responded.
“Did he tell you he thought it would?”
I lick my lips then suck down the rest of my wine. No, he didn’t. He said he didn’t mind that I was shy and quiet and not his usual type looks-wise. I didn’t want to be his type, at all, but the rejection still stung. So I made him pay.
“Not exactly,” I say. “He basically said I wasn’t good enough for him anyhow.”
Becky’s eyes widen and Shannon says, “So what did you do?”
I’m not sure I want to tell, but Shannon laughs and says, “Come on, you did something. No way good ol’ Angry Ashley let that go by.”
“Do not call me--”
Shannon waves her hand at me, nearly knocking over Becky’s wine. “Whatever. But I know you did something. So?”
For some reason Sam’s friendly face flashes through my mind. Maybe because I haven’t seen him since the party at Lily’s. We haven’t even talked by text since Christmas morning. He’s probably mad at me for not spending the day with him, and that hurts and makes me angry. But I still don’t want to think about him and Chuck at the same time so I push Sam’s image away and say, “Well, the guy was an ass, so... let’s just say Grandmother’s short a few laxatives and after he drank the eggnog I gave him Chuck decided all of a sudden not to stay for dinner.”
Shannon bursts out laughing but Becky says, “My God, really? You actually did that?”
“He was full of...” Shannon says through her mirth. “So she... ah, I love it!”
Becky clearly doesn’t. Something in her eyes reminds me of Sam and I don’t like that any more than she likes what I did. “If you’d met him, Becky, you’d get it. The guy was an ass.”
“Ass!” Shannon loses control even more.
“But he was,” I say, not sure who I’m trying to convince. “And it’s not like I beat him up or trashed his car or anything. I just put a few pills in his eggnog. He’d have been fine by the next day. Day after at the worst. But it got him out of the house and he left so fast Grandmother thought it was rude so she decided she didn’t want him around any more, so it was good. Sorry, Becks, but it was.”
Becky doesn’t look convinced, but Shannon says, “Well, I actually wish you had trashed his car, since he sounds awful, but I’m glad you got rid of him or you’d have been with him today and our New Year’s is a tradition.”
A tradition of sitting on someone’s couch, in this case mine, in the fanciest dresses we can find in the thrift shops while drinking and eating and watching DVDs. We went out to celebrate once, the first year we were all twenty-one and legal to drink, and hated it since everything cost twice as much and no guys were even remotely interested in us. So now we show off our cheap finery and hang out together then have a sleepover and start the new year hung over but not any more broke and depressed than usual.
“Yeah, exactly. So let’s watch our movies,” I say, not wanting to talk about Chuck any more.
Once I’ve put in the first ‘Sex and the City’ movie and opened the second bottle of wine, we watch for a few minutes until Becky says, “Pause it a second?”
I do, and Shannon and I turn to her. She blushes, drinks half of her wine in one gulp, and says, “Would I like Chuck?”
I stare at her. Over Shannon’s gasp of laughter I say, “Did it sound like you would? Did it sound like anyone would?”
Her blush deepens and she stares into her wine glass but says, “He was married before, though. So... maybe...”
Shannon elbows her. “Geez. I know you’re big fat Becks, but still. Are you so desperate for a man that you’ve convinced yourself that guy sounds like a possibility? Come on. It’s bad enough this one,” she says, flailing her hand in my direction, “tried to turn a guy she met on a plane into her Prince Charming, but at least that guy sounds decent. This one? I’ve seen cockroaches that are probably sexier.”
“Will’s not decent,” I snap. “He’s a snake. Chuck’s a cockroach and Will’s a snake.”
“And your Sam,” Shannon says, giving me a brilliant evil smile, “is a fox. Bastard never called me, though.”
“He’s not a bas-- wait, what?”
Shannon blinks in fake innocence. “What what?”
“How would he have called you? Why would he?”
Shannon’s eyebrows go up and this time it’s not fake. “He would because I’m sexy and I put out. But he didn’t.” She gives me a ‘poor you’ look. “He’s gay, right? That’s his deal?”
“Stop talking about him.” I slam my new remote down on the coffee table and turn on her. “He’s not gay, he wouldn’t call you, and he couldn’t have anyhow because he didn’t have your number!”
One corner of her mouth curves into a sly smile. “No. Of course he didn’t. Not like I slipped it into his hand at any point.”
I stare at her, trying to remember the day she met him. Did she have a chance to do that? And more importantly... “You gave my friend your phone number? Why the hell--”
“Because as you say he’s just your friend and he’s got a sexy smile and a hot ass and I want a piece of him?” She shrugs. “But he didn’t call me, so why are we arguing about it? Hos before bros, as they say.”
I’m so angry that she tried to take Sam, the only good thing in my life, from me that I can hardly keep from slapping her across the face, and Becky must see it. “We don’t need guys anyhow,” she says quickly, desperately. “Right? Everything would change then, and we don’t want that.” She swallows hard. “No, we don’t. We should just stay here and be our awesome selves. Right?” She holds up her brimming wine glass to toast us, slopping some onto her skirt in the process. “Right?”
Shannon and I both say right, but I don’t think any of us really believe it.
Chapter Sixteen
On the first Tuesday of the new year, I sit in the college auditorium crammed
into what had looked like but isn’t a comfortable chair awaiting the start of the ‘welcome the new admin assistant students’ lecture and wondering why anyone bothers setting New Year’s resolutions.
Right after my TV showed the ball drop in Times Square, Shannon had said, “So, what are your resolutions this year? I’m going to lose a bit of weight and buy a whole new wardrobe. You?”
Becky and I both shrugged, and Shannon said to me, “You resolve to find Will Smith the wonder boy and have his babies. Right?”
“No, I resolve to find him and make sure he’ll never be able to have any babies. He deserves it, for what he did.”
Shannon scoffed. “Get over yourself. So he lied. Big deal. Everybody lies. Get over yourself, get over him...” She giggled. “And get under Sam.”
I glared at Shannon. “I told you, we’re just friends.”
“And I told you, then hand him over to me. I’d get under him and over him and--”
My slap to her arm shut her down.
“Bitch!” She rubbed the spot. “That really hurt.”
I’d intended it to. “Sam’s not for you.”
Her eyes flashed. “Anyone’s for me, if I want him.”
“Not Sam.”
“More wine?” Becky thrust the bottle between me and Shannon. “Come on, guys, drink up and stop fighting. Please. Don’t wreck tonight.”
We let her fill our glasses and I drowned my fury in booze and since we didn’t mention Sam again the rest of the night ended up being okay, but since then I’ve been thinking about my resolution. I do want to take Will down for what he did, and I know I’ll feel better after, but it’s so frustrating that I can’t find him. It’s almost like I’m not meant to find him, but that can’t be it.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
I look up, startled, to see Sam standing smiling at me. Shannon’s right, he does have a sexy smile. How did I not notice that before? “They’re not worth it,” I say, forcing Shannon out of my mind. Sam had his chance to go after her and he didn’t take it. He never will. He’d better not or I’ll kill him. “What are you doing here?
As he settles into the seat next to me he says, “My meeting was done so I thought I’d come find you. Happy New Year, by the way.”
I like that he’s seeking me out. I like it too much. Someday he won’t be and I’ll hate that. “Same to you. Did you have fun?”
He shrugs. “Stayed home, watched some TV, went to bed early. You?”
“Let’s just say you probably had a better night than I did. I’m not so keen on Shannon these days.”
He nods, but his neck blotches red.
“What did you do with her phone number?” I say, trying to keep my rage under control. If he’s kept it, will he tell me? If he lies to me, what will I do?
Sam rubs his forehead. “She told you?”
“Oh, of course she did. She causes trouble whenever she can. So? What did you--”
“Garbage can outside the coffee shop.”
“You didn’t even take it home?”
He shakes his head. “She’s not my type.”
Part of me wants to ask him who is his type, but if I don’t like the answer I’ll be forced to get revenge on him and I don’t want that. So instead I say, “Well, that just proves you have good taste. And how was your Christmas?”
“Kind of like New Year’s,” he says with another shrug. “A lot of TV, bed early. Not my favorite ever. You?”
Chuck slouches into my mind. “Not even close.” I wish suddenly that I had spent the day with Sam. No Chuck, no Grandmother, just a fun and relaxing day. I bet it would have been amazing. I was sure he only wanted to see me because he had no other plans, but maybe I should have gone for it anyhow. Maybe I could have trusted him when he said he wanted to see me. Maybe he wouldn’t have screwed me over.
“Well, let’s decide right now that this is our year.” Sam smiles at me. “Brand new year, with no problems in it yet. We can make it an awesome one. Starting right here by getting more education.”
I smile back, because his happy expression is adorable, but I doubt he’s right. This education, assuming I survive it, will only help me get promoted at a job I can’t stand. What’s so awesome about that?
A tall blonde woman walks onto the stage and everyone falls silent.
“Good morning,” she says into a microphone. “And welcome to your future!”
Though I join the others in applauding, and return Sam’s ‘yup, our amazing future’ smile, my throat ties itself into a knot for no reason.
The woman explains the program to me and my new fellow students, including our once-weekly meetings in person and how we need to keep up with our electronic studies, then ends with, “I’m so proud of you all for being here. You’ve decided to change your lives, make them better, and I know you’ll be successful. I expect great things of you and I have no doubt they’ll happen.”
That makes one of us, lady. I wasn’t much of a student back in high school and I’ve done nothing academic since. How will I ever manage to get through the program?
*****
To my surprise, my school work is no problem for the first few days. I complete my boring assignments and send them off even before the deadlines, hardly needing to think about them.
Strangely, that makes me furious. I can do this, which I don’t care about at all, but I can’t do the videos which matter so much to me.
On Friday night after work, I’m sitting staring at my computer willing myself to work and getting nowhere but angrier and angrier when my phone rings. Dory. I pick up then hang up without speaking and send her a text message.
You didn’t call yesterday so we’re skipping this week. And next week, and forever, as far as I’m concerned.
She might have called. I don’t know. I had my phone off and then wiped out all its missed-call notifications without checking them. I don’t want to be bothered with--
The phone rings again. I snatch it up and snap, “What do you want now?”
“Whoa. What’s up?”
My face goes hot. “Sorry, Sam. Thought it was someone else.”
“Well, good,” he says, and I can hear a smile in his voice, “or else you must really hate me.”
“I don’t.” Feeling stupid, I add, “What’s up?”
“Just wondered how your first week’s been. And how the videos are going.”
“Fine. And they’re not, because I haven’t done anything, haven’t even tried,” I say, my words coming faster and faster. “I’ve done nothing and it doesn’t look like I ever will. I’m useless. Sorry for wasting your time.”
He speaks as I’m finishing the last few words. “You are not useless. And don’t apologize to me, and you didn’t waste my time. You’ll post them. I know you want to, so you will.”
I’m not so sure about the second part but he’s right about the first. I do want to, so much it hurts, and that makes me long for a glass of wine. I can’t have one, though, because the painkillers I took an hour ago bore a pretty clear warning about the dangers of combining them with alcohol.
I’m usually religious about flossing and brushing my teeth at night, which I did even on the island, but I fell asleep on the couch last night after a little too much wine and woke up this morning with a sore spot in my mouth. Once I managed to pry the bit of popcorn shell out of my gum, the pain subsided, but only a little, so I’d needed the painkillers.
Poking at the tooth with my tongue, wondering if it’ll be better by Monday or if I’ll have to see the dentist, I try to think of what to say to Sam. Before I come up with anything, he says, “I’m sorry. I know it’s scary. What are you doing tonight?”
“Not much.” I haven’t seen him since Tuesday and I don’t like how my heart speeds up at the idea he might be trying to see me now. I have to stay focused on getting Will back, not on getting to know Sam better. I should just say I want to stay home, cut him off before he asks, but instead I find myself saying, “I’m bored, actuall
y. You?”
“Much the same.” He clears his throat. “Can I take you out for coffee?”
I should say no. I should stay home and watch another episode of “Stalk This Way” to get ideas on how to find Will. That’s the only smart thing to do. “I can meet you in half an hour.”
“Sounds good,” he says, and I can hear that smile in his voice again. “Oh, and bring your laptop, okay?”
I agree, though I don’t know why he wants me to, then take a fast shower and put my hair into a sleek figure-eight bun then stand staring at my clothes for more time than I can afford. For some reason I want to look nice, or at least as nice as I can manage. I try two dresses but both bulge around my middle, so I put them back cursing Becky for her lava cakes and instead go for a loose cobalt blue top over a straight black knee-length skirt. I’ve never worn a skirt with Sam, and I’m a little afraid he’ll make fun of me, but I don’t have time to change again so I do my makeup and slip on my black ballet flats and head out.
When I arrive, Sam’s already there, at a table with two drink cups. He’s wearing a denim button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a shiver runs through me at the sight of his strong forearms. He is sexy. I don’t want him to be but he is.
For a moment I consider running the other way, because I can’t handle any distraction from Will, but he’s seen me and is getting to his feet. The black jeans he’s paired with his shirt don’t exactly ruin the sexy effect, even with one leg bunched up above his walking boot, but I notice something else that distracts me from his looks.
“Hey,” he says as I approach. “Got you the--”
“No crutches! Not even one!”
He grins and sits down again. “Yes, ma’am. Doctor said this morning I don’t need them any more. Can’t say I’ll miss them.”
“I bet not.” I take the seat opposite him. “Congrats. So the ankle’s fine now?”
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