by Rion, Paige
It will come and go, she knows, getting worse as the first of the month approaches. Until it does, and then she’ll deal. It’s easier than it was in the past. She supposes that should comfort her. Somehow, though, it doesn’t.
She remembers the night of her parents’ accident…what it felt like to be all alone in their family home. The emptiness seemed to echo off the walls, ominously loud. The ticking of the giant clock in the living room was suddenly as threatening as a time bomb. Because the minutes passing were different somehow. Changed to post-parent time.
Memories crashed through her that night with unrelenting cruelty, thunderous waves on the quickly receding shoreline of her life. Each room held different glimpses into their lives. Like the laundry room, with the freshly folded piles of clothes yet to be put away. Or the kitchen with the grocery list on the front of the refrigerator, carefully recorded in her mother’s loopy scrawl. Or the laptop sitting on the coffee table that her father would never get to work on again. The toothbrushes in the bathroom, waiting to be used. Or the faded scent of her mother’s favorite body wash. All signs of life. Yet, those lives were now expired.
Expired. Callie hates that word. It’s like saying they had suddenly gone bad. That they had spoiled like a piece of rotten fruit. But the night before they got into their car, they were very much full of life, as vibrant as ever. And with each passing day, they would fade away more than the next. With each tick of the clock, Callie lost a little piece of them. She could no longer remember the exact scent of her mother’s perfume. Or the tune her father used to hum around the house. She no longer remembered what it felt like to be hugged by them, or the way their voices sounded.
She swallows and presses her eyes closed, not wanting to go down this line of thought. March 2nd can’t some soon enough.
Needing a distraction, she glances around the office to see that Steve and the other intern have already left for the day. Slackers.
Turning to her computer, she shuts it down, although she has no idea what she’ll do once she leaves the office.
“Callie,” Mr. Bucek calls from behind her. “You’re still here?”
“I was just wrapping up.” She turns to him. “Unless you had something else you wanted me to do.” A huge part of her hopes he does. Maybe it will help ease the despondency she feels so deeply today.
It won’t. Still, she can hope.
“No. You’re free to go. It’s a Friday, so I imagine you have stuff to do.” He moves across from her to the edge of her desk and sits. “I just wanted to see if you had a plan in place, how the saving was going.”
Oh, God. I’ll die if he knows about the escort debacle.
Callie hadn’t heard any stirrings of rumors around the office, but that didn’t mean that Mr. Bucek didn’t know anything. He’s one of those employers that feels it’s his job to know everything. And if that little worm Steve had heard anything about it, he’d be the first to squeal. It would only make him look better and her worse.
“Um. Yeah, you could say that. I haven’t used my cards since we spoke, and I may have some money to put on them.” She shrugs her shoulders as if it’s no big deal, ignoring the way her chest constricts at the thought of losing this job. Until recently, GGF was one of the only things in her future she felt sure of.
Mr. Bucek nods, but Callie can tell the smile he gives her is halfhearted. He sits there a moment before saying anything else. His eyes crinkle at the corners, as he glances down at his dress shoes, then back up to her again. “I’ve been doing some thinking…”
Callie’s ears perk. Is he going to let me off the hook? Please change your mind.
“It’s nice to know you haven’t used your cards. I’m afraid that maybe we put too much emphasis on cutting your debt down and not enough on learning good habits.”
Callie frowns. This is not what she is expecting.
“All I’m saying is that I want to put less stress on the amount of debt you pay off and more focus on the steps you take to fix your financial situation. I’m not going to give numbers, nor am I going to hold your hand and tell you what you need to do. After all, if anyone knows how to turn around someone’s finances, it’s you,” he says, nodding at the files stacked on her desk.
Callie leans back in her chair, still looking at Mr. Bucek. She thinks he might elaborate, but then she realizes that he’s done. “So, I need to…?”
“You’re good at what you do. I think it’s time you applied some of that to your own life. That’s all I’m gonna say. But at the end of this, I’ll want proof, visible progress.”
What? That’s it? How is she supposed to know what she needs to do if he doesn’t tell her exactly what he wants? Is she supposed to guess?
Callie feels the tension building in her back, clawing up her spine. She clamps her mouth shut and says nothing because she’s more than just a little annoyed.
Mr. Bucek stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. He hovers by her desk, and she knows he’s waiting for her to say something, to acknowledge what he just said, but she’s too stubborn and she’d rather pretend he said nothing at all. Who changes the rules after the first quarter?
“Well…” his voice trails off, and Callie feels sorry for him. He’s been good to her these last two years. He knows her history, what happened to her parents, and has been an ear for her when she’s needed it.
“It’s almost March, and I just wanted you to know that if you need to talk or anything at all, my office is always open.” He continues, “And if you want a night away from all that crazy college life. You know, the drinking, dating, partying… If all that independence becomes a little too much, you can opt for a boring family dinner and an exciting night of Pictionary. Margaret hasn’t seen you in a while, and Livia would sure love a night with a college girl,” he says, referring to his wife and ten-year-old.
Callie swallows over the emotion that has lodged in her throat, her annoyance at him forgotten. She can’t say anything. Her mouth is suddenly too dry.
Over the last two years, she has come to know Margaret and Livia through several work functions, as well as a couple dinners she shared at their home. Although those invites were thoughtful, she always found them hard. When she is with Mr. Bucek, his wife, and daughter all together, she can’t help but look at them and only see what once was. But she doesn’t say this. She knows he means well, and so she smiles through the pain and forces a laugh. “Thank you. I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
He backs out of her cubicle. “Okay. Well, think about what I said…about the debt and focusing on the how of it.”
“I will.”
Please leave. Please.
“Okay, then. See you on Monday,” he says and turns toward his office.
Callie releases a pent-up breath and turns back to her desk. I need to get out of here. She quickly shuts down her computer, grabs her purse, and leaves.
Before she can decide what she wants to do with the gap of time from now until Dean’s game that evening, Callie finds herself driving on autopilot and winds up at the mall. A distraction is in order. Window shopping downtown just won’t do the trick. She needs somewhere out of the cold, where she can stretch her legs.
She pulls into the lot and enters through the large glass doors of Macy’s. She moves through the purses, inhaling the scent of leather, while her mind wanders. Most of her free time over the last few days has been spent with Dean. Since their interview with Pitt News, they’ve made it a point to walk with each other to classes whenever possible and be seen hanging out together on campus. The time spent with him has been natural. This doesn’t surprise her, though. On-campus dates are so similar to everyday routine that it isn’t all that far off from normal. Just a little flirting is involved and more touching than usual. Nothing too drastic thus far, and if she’s being truthful, she’s grateful for the distraction of Operation Get the Girl. Because when she agreed to help Dean, it was spur of the moment, an emotional decision. It wasn’t until later, after he hur
ried from her apartment and she was alone with her thoughts, that she realized the timing of his request was beneficial on a whole other level. It would keep her mind off of her shaky claim on the job at GGF, as well as her parents.
Callie pauses and places her face in her hands. Dean, GGF, her debt, her parents—her whole life feels off-kilter.
She sniffs and runs a hand over the top of her head, smoothing her hair. Desperately needing something to lift her spirits, she moves through the jewelry section, into the women’s department. A leather Calvin Klein sheath catches her eye and she’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She scans the rack, easily finds her size, and holds the garment against her body, inspecting the length and cut.
Gorgeous.
Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s moving among the racks, choosing a cute top, pants, and a couple of the early spring items to try on. In the accessories department, she finds a pink and gold scarf that would look hot with the top she’s holding and a cute set of bangles. With a flare of excitement and a bounce to her step, she finds the fitting rooms and tries everything on. The items fit her like a glove, the luxurious fabric clinging to her curves. She feels taller, stronger. Like a new woman.
Just what I need.
Putting her top and jeans back on, she gathers up the clothes and drifts through the ladies’ section to the shoes, where she spots a cute pair of Calvin Klein booties and stops to inspect them. They’re on sale, but the ninety-dollar price tag is a little steep for her budget.
She scoffs at herself. Ten dollars is too much for me right now. Besides, in her arms, she’s carrying several hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, and she’s worried about one more thing? Pursing her lips, she holds the shoe down by her foot and imagines it with the new pair of black skinny jeans she holds in her hands.
Hot.
Her phone jingles in her pocket and she has to balance the pile of clothes in her hand to find it. Palming her phone, she glances at the screen and sees Dean’s name on the caller ID.
She freezes, as the six thousand dollars he gave her flashes in her head like a warning sign. Money he gave to her in confidence. He trusts her to not squander the opportunity he’s given her, and that’s exactly what she’s about to do.
She scowls and places the bootie back on the acrylic stand. Her gaze flickers to the clothes in her arms, the exorbitant price tags hanging from the fabric like reaching arms.
What am I doing?
A salesman with platinum hair and a distinguished suit approaches her. “Can I help you try something on, Miss?”
Callie takes a deep breath and stands there for a moment, unable to say no, but unsure of whether she can say yes, either.
Don’t do it.
Her hand moves toward the shoes. Just these things in my arms and then one pair of shoes. I’ll just try them on and see…
The salesman blinks, still smiling, still waiting for her answer.
Her phone bleats out the signal that she has a voice mail and guilt pelts her as if she’s been caught in an epic hailstorm.
I can’t do this.
The clothes in her arms suddenly feel too heavy. Their cost is more than the price tags. Forcing her legs to move, she begins to back away, then drops the garments right there on the floor and leaps back as if they’re a bed of coiled snakes.
Her arms twitch with the pulsing need to pick them back up, but the salesman is now staring at her as if she’s crazy. Turning, she runs from the store, the sharp taste of shame coating her tongue.
CHAPTER FIVE
DEAN
Dean slides on his white Pitt jersey, then shakes his arms and rolls his head, trying to loosen the ball of tension at the base of his neck.
“Dude, you’re all worked up.” Emmett smacks him in the chest. “Loosen up, bro, or you’re gonna do us no good out there. It’s not like Callie’s never been to a game before.”
Dean leans down, resting his hands on his knees, then straightens again and runs one through his hair, unable to stay still. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know, but it’s different somehow. She’s here as my girlfriend. It needs to be different.”
Emmett snorts. “What, are you gonna tap dance at halftime for her? Relax, man. It’s just a game. The difference is you’ll be leaving with her on your arm.”
Dean frowns. “Yeah, I guess. But that’s the thing…” He glances around to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in to whisper. “We’ve been going along with this charade all week. And all we’ve done is walk around and hold hands or have coffee or lunch together. That’s going to get me nowhere.”
Emmett rubs his jaw. “I feel you. You need to up your game for sure.”
Dean nods. “This is my chance. I can’t blow this,” he says, making the monumental mistake of glancing across the locker room to where Jason dresses.
Jason’s eyes meet Dean’s and a smirk grows over his cocky face. The heat in the locker room rises and Dean’s hands ball into fists. All he wants to do is erase Jason’s smug expression, but he reminds himself he can’t. Jason still thinks he won with that article, and as much as Dean wants to beat the piss out of him for it, he knows that his silence is best for Callie. He plays it cool and Jason leaves Callie alone. Right at this moment, though, it’s hard to tell himself that.
Dean forces himself to turn away from Jason, just as his teammate Ron walks up to him. “Getting nervous, Michaels? Got your girl watchin’?”
Dean smiles and they exchange their usual handshake, the cocoa of Ron’s skin a sharp contrast with his own.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Ron bumps Dean’s shoulder with his knuckles. “I saw ya’ll getting cozy on campus the other day. All holding hands, and you looked so smitten.” The six-foot-seven athlete pinches Dean’s cheek and raises his voice. “It’s so cute. Our wittle Dean, all in love.”
Emmett laughs. “You have no idea, man.”
Dean can’t help himself; the tension melts away and he smiles. “Whatever.”
“No, seriously, though. She’s fine. Better watch or a better man might swoop in and steal her. Maybe she’d like a taste of the dark side,” he says, winking.
“Pfftt. Dark and flabby,” Dean says, punching him good-naturedly in the abs, and knowing full well Ron is one of the biggest and most built on the team. Ron simply winks at him and walks away.
“Feel better?” Emmett asks.
Shaking his head, Dean’s eyes brighten as a thought occurs to him. “No. But I will. I have an idea.”
Dean opens his locker and grabs his wallet, then slams the door shut and spins on his heel toward the exit, with Emmett calling behind him, “Do I even wanna know?”
CHAPTER SIX
CALLIE
Callie settles next to Jinny on the bleachers. Todd is working, so it’s just the two of them. The darkness she felt earlier in the day seems to evaporate in Jinny’s presence like a fine mist, floating out and away from her, as it always does. For that, she is grateful. She can breathe a little easier, relax the tense muscles in her back, and take a deep breath without a vice squeezing her chest.
They’re sitting on the bottom riser, so Callie swivels in her seat to glance at the crowd surrounding her. She strains her neck, moving around to peer into the droves of people. But there’s a large turnout and Callie finds it difficult to notice anyone in particular. No signs of Maya that she can see, but according to Dean she attends most of the games. For his sake, she hopes tonight is no exception. If she’s there, Callie will be sure to make a display at congratulating Dean at the end of the game. Just the thought makes her smile.
“What are you grinning about?” Jinny asks, nudging her.
Callie glances at her. “Nothing. It’s just funny, you know... Being here as Dean’s ‘official girlfriend,’” she says. “I’ve come to his games before. It shouldn’t feel any different, but for some reason it does.”
Jinny’s eyes sparkle. “Good different?”
“Weird different. I have to remind myse
lf to play the role.”
“Oh,” Jinny's smile fades before she turns away and falls silent.
Did I say something wrong? I hope she doesn’t think I’m insulting him. Let’s face it, though, continually reminding myself to act like a love-struck girlfriend around my best friend’s brother does fall into the weird category.
Shrugging it off, Callie turns her attention back to the basketball court. After the pre-game warm-up, the players take their positions. Dean’s gaze catches hers in the crowd easily because of her position right off the court. For a split second, his eyes holds hers before the game begins and the men scatter into position.
Callie watches as the teams fight for domination. After a Pitt player fumbles the ball, Boston College gets it and moves downcourt, but in a flash Dean manages to steal it and dribble in for a layup shot to score the first points of the game. The crowd roars next to her. Students and fans scream, some jump up in their seats, others ring cowbells, and some simply sit and clap. The Panther mascot boogies across the front of the bleachers, doing a wild celebration dance. Before Callie knows what’s happening, he is coming toward her in his white Pitt jersey. His large, furry head bobbles slightly as he walks, and when he comes to a stop in front of her, he pulls a red rose from behind his back, waves it in the air, and gives it to her with a flourish and a bow. The fans around her chatter, their voices rising excitedly above the noise in the gym.
Callie’s cheeks burn red-hot as she accepts the rose, and the Panther dances away. A bubble of excitement works its way up through her chest. This can’t be from Dean.
Turning to Jinny, she says, “What was that?”
Jinny takes one look at the rose and grins before turning her attention back to the game. She nods toward the court. “I think that’s what it feels like to be the girlfriend of the star player.”
Callie follows Jinny’s line of vision with wide eyes to where Dean stands, legs bent at the knees, guarding his opponent. His arms unfurl, surrounding the space of the other player, his fingers curled. His expression is fierce, intent. But, as he bumps the player with his hip and wards off a pass, his gaze flickers to her, as if he can sense her eyes on him, and he winks.