by Eva Sloan
Kevin cut him off, barking, “Where is he!”
Tim was starting to turn green. “Honest, man, I don’t know--argh!”
Kevin pressed his forearm across Tim’s throat and watched as Tim’s complexion turned from green to pink, to scarlet.
“If you don’t tell me where your shit-weasel friend is, I’m going to give you the beating I was saving for him. Do you understand?”
Kevin waited for Tim to shake his head in comprehension before letting up on the pressure to his Adam’s apple.
Tim sputtered as he gasped for oxygen, and he started spilling his guts. “Aspen! Mark’s in Aspen, Colorado.”
Kevin shook his head, unconvinced. “Why would he be in Aspen?”
“I don’t know,” Tim sputtered, trying to right himself, but finding Kevin still had him pinned against the idling cab. “I mean it, I don’t know why. One minute we were drinking Crown Royal and telling him he’d be fucking the same chick for the rest of his life, the next minute he was talking up some cocktail waitress.”
Kevin bore down on him again, enough to make something in Tim crack audibly. “What about the cocktail waitress?”
“Oh God, fuck! She was this redhead, great rack, even better legs--”
“What was her name?”
“Shauna!” He cried out painfully. “Her name was Shauna, and all she said was she loved to ski. Next thing I knew Mark told me to give that stupid napkin to Susan, and he and the waitress were gone.”
“And you’re sure they went to Aspen?”
“Yeah, yeah. He maxxed out his credit cards paying for the honeymoon to Cancun. He had to call me to get my credit card to buy the tickets and book the hotel.” Tim looked like he remembered something.
“What?” Kevin growled.
“I just realized he’s charging this whole thing on my card...that asshole!”
Disgusted, Kevin tightened his grip on Tim’s lapels and let him go with a snap, his knuckles cracking as the groomsman fell against the cab door again. He stalked away, back toward the church, trying to think of a way to break it to Susan that the man of her dreams was off skiing in Aspen with the cocktail waitress of his. Does Hallmark make a card for this?
Kevin stopped just outside the door of the vestibule, not wanting to look at Susan so hurt, but unable to stay away. There had to be some way he could help her. And with that hope he walked back into the room again and gently kissed the back of Susan’s now veil-less neck.
He looked Liz square in the eye and said, “Let’s get her out of here.”
~*~
Liz turned out to be a little different than Kevin had remembered. In college she was manipulative, eerily observant, and an outright bitch...at least to him. In truth, maybe she saw what he couldn’t ’fess up to. He was holding on, waiting pathetically for a chance to pounce on a vulnerable moment. But since Kevin had forced himself to keep an ever-so-slight distance from Susan right after each of her three breakups before they graduated, Kevin felt Liz’s assessment of him was ludicrous. Of course Liz had never changed her mind about him.
But now, after all these years, Kevin couldn’t get over how different Liz was. Her bluntness that had scorched his fragile ego back at Dartmouth had evolved into subtle, yet effective, persuasion. She had the still-comatose Susan changed out of her wedding dress and into jeans and a t-shirt in no time, and had the bridesmaids toting the offending dress and the stacks of glittering, pastel-wrapped wedding gifts off to her own apartment. A wise move, since they were taking Susan back to her apartment.
Luckily Mark and Susan had not formally moved in together, be it for practical or superstitious reasons. At first Susan’s stillness seemed to allude to an inner calm. But as Liz boiled water for tea, and Kevin moved Susan’s already-packed honeymoon luggage away from the door and into the adjoining closet, she disappeared.
Liz headed straight to the bathroom. Kevin knew Susan was in pain, maybe more than he could help her with. Even though he wanted to help, his body was still reticent about what to do. Slowly, he moved into the bedroom.
He made out Susan’s shrinking form on the bed, her arms wrapping around her knees as she pulled them to her chest. She lay there, her face blank, her eyes trained on the darkened eighth story windows.
Liz stood silent by Kevin’s side for a few beats before she took him by the wrist and drew him from the room, closing the door gently until it was a mere crack.
Kevin was rather stunned she had touched him. The action was far more intimate than he had ever imagined Liz capable of performing. She pulled him away from the bedroom door and out to Susan’s clean, yet not often used kitchen. She let go abruptly with a flourish of her hand, as if touching him were some vulgar, repulsive task. When she turned to him, there it was, the always present rebuff still there, even after five years.
The old Liz came shining right through. Kevin cringed as he imagined what blistering accusations were building up behind those frosty blue eyes. Would she insult him outright? Maybe chastise him like an adolescent for still harboring such pathetic thoughts?
Her hands on her hips, her jaw moved in slow motion from left to right, as if she were literally chewing her scorching words up before she spit them at him. Her jaw un-clinched, her eyes rolled up to stare at Susan’s stucco ceiling, and the viscous breath in her lungs expelled in a haughty sigh.
“So what the fuck are we gonna do?”
“We?” Kevin said, stepping forward a few inches and tilting his head as if he’d heard her wrong.
Liz grabbed a bottle of red wine that had been left out on the counter, and pulled two wine glasses from the rack above her head. Popping the cork, she poured a drink for each of them. She chugged her first glass, pouring herself a second when she motioned like a testy Vanna White for Kevin to take his.
“Of course we!” She rasped, chuckling with a hollow almost scary sound. “We can’t ask shit-head Mark to take care of her.” Kevin smiled ruefully at the fact he and Liz had the same pet name for Mark. “And you know her mother will sweep in any time now to smother her.” She looked hard into Kevin’s eyes. “You remember her mother, don’t you?”
All too well, Kevin thought as he nodded.
~*~
Their senior year at Dartmouth Susan’s mother called relentlessly, checking on both Susan’s grades, which were top of her class, as well as the state of her virginity, which was by then fictitious. Not that Susan had been promiscuous. She’d had three boyfriends in college, yet only slept with one of them. But since that had happened at the beginning of senior year, Susan had been forced to lie to her mother for the rest of the scholastic year.
Until spring break.
On spring break, Susan reluctantly went home and spent copious amounts of time shopping, listening to and eating out with her mother and her near perfect suburban housewife friends. It had left Susan so mentally numb that on the day she drove back to school, she absently left her birth control pills lying on the nightstand beside her unmade bed.
Liz and Kevin awaited Susan in the lobby of their dormitory, wanting to warn her that her mother was up in her room, having beaten her daughter to the college by a full hour. Kevin had been there waiting, “Like a pathetic dog,” as Liz had put it, for Susan’s return. Mrs. Rhodes barged into the room, mistaking Kevin for Liz’s boyfriend. Liz had scoffed bitterly and informed Mrs. Rhodes that Kevin was Susan’s friend, not hers.
Mrs. Rhodes’s eyes bugged out, and she had practically thrown Kevin from the room, squawking indignantly as she slammed the door in his confused face.
Ten minutes later, Liz escaped Mrs. Rhodes’s inquisition. She looked like she’d been through hell. But when Kevin asked, “What was that all about?” her expression lifted into a satisfied grin.
“The old bat thought you were Susan’s boyfriend.” She snickered as she made quotation marks with her fingers. Shaking her head she continued, “What a laugh. I don’t know what has her panties in such a bunch, but I set her straight about you.”
/>
Kevin could recall the exact feeling of hot embarrassment those words had evoked, making his face burn with shame. “What, did you tell her I was some kind of stalker?”
Liz let out one perfect “Ha!” and strode past Kevin, toward the elevators. “The truth would just make her freak out more.”
“So what did you tell her?” Kevin’s eyebrows bunched with confusion.
“Just you’re Susan’s gay friend, Kevin. And you’re dating the captain of the football team.”
Kevin had halted in his tracks right before the elevator doors and stood staring incredulously at Liz until they slid open. She sauntered brightly into the wood paneled box, turned and smirked at him. The nastiest retorts imaginable circled in Kevin’s mind, forming a tornado funnel on the tip of his tongue, leaving him with too many things to say. Yet he said nothing.
Liz had raised her eyebrow and grinned. “You should be thanking me. At least I saved you from a shit-load of getting bitched at.”
And from any shred of masculine pride he had left.
Liz rolled her eyes. “Are you getting on? Or did I hurt your sensitive little girl feelings?”
“Fuck you,” Kevin said through gritted teeth.
“In your dreams.” The satisfaction in her voice was maddening. “But…way to grow a pair.”
~*~
“I remember her mother,” Kevin said as he gulped down his wine and motioned for Liz to pour him another. “She was crazed. I thought she was going to have a goddamn stroke over it.”
“Feel sorry for me,” Liz said. “I was the one fielding all her phone calls every day and putting up with her every weekend for a month!” She smiled at Kevin and raised her glass. “Thank God the only male she ever found loitering around her little girl was the nerdy gay friend, or she would’ve been on our backs ’til graduation!”
Kevin winced at her toast, yet shook off the barb and raised his own glass.
Neither took a drink though. The tintinnabulation seemed to break the revelry of their shared memory.
“Seriously…” Liz’s voice cracked. “What are we going to do? We can’t just leave her here--she’s a mess. And if we stay here, Mommy Dearest is going to descend like the fucking troops on Normandy!”
“Your place?” Kevin said.
“That’s where all the wedding gifts and that fucking dress are.”
“Not your place. So...a hotel?”
“You got a room?” She perked up.
“No. I wasn’t planning on sticking around. Just brought a change of clothes and my toothbrush.”
Liz shot Kevin an unfathomable look.
“So sue me, I wasn’t gonna stick around for the after party. My flight leaves in two hours.”
“Well, cancel it! You’re not going anywhere.”
“Wasn’t planning to. Not now, anyway.”
Liz bit her lip. “Unfortunately, I already called in all the favors from guys wanting to fuck me to get rooms for Susan’s family. The rest of the city’s booked solid for some god-awful Mary Kay convention. You never saw so many fake blond housewives driving pink Cadillacs in your life.”
An idea shimmered in Kevin’s mind. Something Tim, the loaded groomsman had said...
“Mark maxxed out his credit cards booking their honeymoon in Cancun.”
Liz and Kevin looked at each other with blank stares for a long beat, and then they both smiled with too much satisfaction.
Chapter 2
TURNED OUT THE TICKETS for the flight to Cancun were lying right on top of Susan’s luggage. A quick call to the airline and Liz confirmed the tickets hadn’t been cancelled. After she’d called, Kevin gathered Susan’s bags and his own flimsy gym bag, and dragged them downstairs to be watched over by Lou, the building’s ancient yet all-seeing doorman.
Susan had told him that Lou no longer opened the door, but kept a watchful, though admittedly myopic, eye on the comings and goings. And if you needed anything, he was the man to ask. He’d found Susan a date for a company retreat last year. He’d found Liz a surfboard in the middle of winter so she could live out a Beach Blanket Bingo fantasy orgy with three strapping members of the Olympic Gold Medal water polo team.
Kevin’s request was much simpler. “Hail us a cab that will get us to the airport in record time.”
“When you come back down, your taxi will be waiting.”
Kevin went back upstairs and found Liz trying to get a comatose-looking Susan out of the bed and onto her feet. Kevin swooped in, scooping Susan up and carrying her to the front door. “Gotta get going if we’re all going to make it on the flight.” He gave Liz a pointed look. “We have just enough time to stop by your place so you can do a quick packing job.”
Liz smiled wanly. “I’m not going.”
“What!” Kevin yelled so loud Susan’s eyes almost focused as she looked right through him.
“I’ve got Curtis Browning showing his new collection in three days. It’s guaranteed to be the highlight of the season.”
“And that’s more important than your best friend!”
Her look was cross. “Don’t be an idiot. Susan’s more important than some middle-aged Picasso’s second coming, but if I ever want his caliber of showing again, I have to be here. I own the gallery, Kevin, so it’s not just my job, it’s my entire future.”
Kevin shifted his weight uncomfortably, yet never even jostled the woman in his arms. “I get it. But I don’t know if I...”
“Of course you can,” Liz whispered, her pale blue eyes too understanding. “You love her, don’t you?”
Kevin felt his face go slack. His mind turned blank and numb.
“Okay, that was a low blow,” Liz said. “But you can take her down there now. I’d have to wait a week. And even if I could go down with you two now, there aren’t any flights open for four days...I checked.”
Kevin leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, blowing out air in a low whistle.
“It’s only for a week, you pussy!” Liz exhorted. “Then I’ll be down to take over, so you can go have a mental breakdown or something.”
Kevin laughed. “Mental breakdown?”
Liz raised her eyebrow slyly, pursing her lips. “After a week of listening to her talk about losing...” Liz started whispering again. “M-A-R-K.” As if spelling it would keep Susan from comprehending. “What the hell do you think you’ll want to do?”
Kevin looked down at Susan’s vacant expression and thought about how she’d been telling him the relentless, gruesome details of her love life for the past five years. This could be very bad, he told himself.
“Yeah, you taking over in a week is a really good idea.”
“That’s a good boy,” she said, her tone placating. Kevin was about to tell her she was a bitch when she swiftly scooted around him and opened the door. “We better hurry.”
When they got downstairs Lou had a taxi waiting at the curb outside Susan’s apartment building, all the luggage already stowed in its trunk, and was standing there--at long last--holding the door, his expression turning from merely polite to fatherly worried.
Liz stopped for a moment and uncharacteristically threw her arms around the aging doorman. “She’ll be fine. We’re taking care of her.” She pulled away to look deep into Lou’s eyes. “You know what to do about the locks...and if he shows up?”
Lou’s polite reserve returned as he smiled at Liz. “The locks will be changed before you arrive at the airport. I’ll have...him arrested for trespassing if he dares shows his face.”
“Knew I could count on you, Lou.” She pecked the old man on the cheek, wiping the light smudge of lipstick off before bolting out the door.
~*~
Kevin was surprised how few people bothered you when your carry-on luggage was another person. The usually brutal security screeners waved him through. The flight attendants showed him hastily to his seat, not daring to ask what was wrong with the pretty, though catatonic, woman in his arms. Kevin buckled her into her seat and spent
the rest of the flight with his arm around her, not saying a word. Partly because he didn’t know what to say, and partly because he genuinely couldn’t let her go. He’d missed her so much.
When the flight landed in Cancun, the hotel picked them up in a simple yet spotless black sedan. No limo, no tacky Congratulations or Just Married signs in sight. Obviously, Kevin thought with gratitude, Liz had already contacted the resort.
“We’ve moved you to a luxury suite, sir,” the driver said as he pulled the car out into the gridlocked traffic. It seemed that half the United States had said, “Screw it!”and exited en masse to this sunnier, warmer destination. Kevin could feel himself start to sweat through his suit, even after he had already removed his tie.
At least they wouldn’t have to deal with the honeymoon suite or some heart-shaped bed. “I’ll need to have some more appropriate clothes sent up to the room.”
“Of course. Should I charge it to the room?” The driver’s expression was one of keen knowing.
“No. I’ll pay for my own clothes. But charge everything for the lady to the room.”
“Very good, sir. Would you like medium or large shirts, and your waist is probably a thirty-two?” The driver’s eyes were smiling in the rearview mirror as he peered back at Kevin and Susan.
“Large shirts, size eleven shoes, and my waist is a thirty.”
“Ah, big feet.” The driver wriggled his eyebrows. “Very good indeed.”
The driver’s smile was smug, and Kevin guessed he already knew his measurements the moment he looked at him. That first look at the airport was not only professionally friendly, but unabashedly appraising. At least someone would be flirting with him.
~*~
The luxury suite was exactly that. Some thousand square feet, two bedrooms, private and master baths, a living room and a fully functioning kitchen.
Kevin took Susan straight to one of the bedrooms and lay her down on the bed, covering her up and tucking her in protectively.