Off Limits

by Jules Barnard

  The more hours that pass, the more I regret my anger toward Gen. I overreacted and took out my pain on her. I was hyped up and agitated before she walked in the door for reasons that had nothing to do with her. She should have told me about Eric, but anyone would be hesitant. Who would be eager to tell a friend that her boyfriend hit on them?

  I could wait for Gen to come home to talk, but that doesn’t seem good enough. I’m not excited to face the critical looks from my old coworkers at Blue, but I can’t let things stand the way they are. I’ll try to catch Gen on her break and apologize for the way I reacted.

  I go out into the living room and Tyler walks in the door.

  He tips his head up in greeting, and toes off his shoes. He drops his keys on the kitchen counter and grabs a beer from the fridge, then slumps on the couch and turns on motocross. He’s wearing the same shirt he had on yesterday.

  Something seems off, but since I’ve got many things that appear off in my life, I decide Tyler’s issues can wait. “Can I borrow your car for a bit?”

  His eyes flick up. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Nothing, I just need to talk to Gen about something.”

  Tyler straightens his leg, pulls his keys from his pocket, and tosses them to me. “When will you be home?”

  “In an hour, Grandma.”

  His mouth twists. “Don’t crash my wheels.” I roll my eyes. Tyler’s Land Cruiser is about thirty years old. If I crash, it’s because the steering sucks.

  I park in the Blue parking garage and walk in the doors closest to Gen’s cocktail lounge, hoping to avoid people. Mason spots me first, smiles, then glances nervously across the room. I follow his gaze—to Jaeger holding Gen in a corner of the lounge.

  My feet stop moving and my heart drops into my stomach. Gen’s arms are around Jaeger’s waist, his hand tucking her head close, comforting her in the same way he’s done with me. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry.

  I don’t know what’s real. I thought I knew—thought I’d jumped all over Gen wrongly. Now nothing makes sense.

  The guy I believed cared for me, in a way no other guy has, is embracing my best friend. Right after she told me my ex-boyfriend betrayed me with her. And there’s been this distance between me and Gen…

  Jaeger said there was nothing going on between him and Gen, but looking at them now, that’s hard to believe.

  What am I doing here? I have to clear my head, think rationally.

  Whipping around, I stumble into a body, my arms tangling with hard limbs. Drake uses my imbalance to haul me off the casino floor by my waist, one arm across the back of my shoulders.

  “Let me go, Drake,” I growl as he carries me toward an elevator cove.

  “We need to have a little talk, pretty girl.” His voice is calm, steady, but his grip pinches the skin on my shoulder and he’s hurting my ribs with his tight hold.

  If he tries to drag me into an elevator, I’ll scream my fucking lungs out.

  Drake stops in a relatively quiet section beside the elevators, his chest blocking my view of the rest of the casino. “I’m surprised to see you, Cali. Didn’t think you’d show your face after you were fired.” Vodka vapors waft off his breath.

  He crosses his arms and shakes his head. His eyes leave me briefly to glare over his shoulder—at Jaeger hunched protectively over Gen.

  Drake’s toxic breath and the image of the guy I’m falling for with my best friend bring bile to my throat. I flatten my hands behind me against the wall and swallow the sour taste in my mouth. And realize a moment later how weak that makes me look.

  Straightening my shoulders, I say, “What do you want?”

  The look Drake levels at me is ruthless. “Your tall friend won’t be able to pull the same stunt in here that he did the other night.” He taps two fingers to his temples and raises them to the ceiling. “I’m the eyes inside Blue. One move out of line and I’ll have him thrown out.” He cocks his head. “I could be persuaded to put in a good word for you. Help you get your job back.” His gaze trails my body, sending a shiver of repulsion down my back. “With the right motivation.”

  I pinch my mouth and hold back a gag. “You’re horrible. I must have been drunk off my ass to let you take me home. Leave me alone, Drake.” I push past him, but he grabs my arm and squeezes until my fingers go numb.

  “Remember who’s in charge here.” He shakes me, wrenching my neck. “Show a little respect.”

  My eyes open wide at the threat. I’m not an employee. I have no rights. This is Drake’s world—his word against mine. What he’s doing to me is wrong and looks bad under any circumstances, but how do I know he didn’t drag me to the one place no one can see us? Or that he won’t tamper with the surveillance footage? “You made your point. Let me go.”

  Drake releases his hold and plasters a charming smile on his face. “The offer of help stands.”

  I don’t trust myself to respond—afraid that whatever comes out of my mouth will make matters worse. I move toward the exit, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being followed.

  Inside the parking garage, I run to my brother’s car and lock the door the second I’m in. The tightening in my chest from holding my breath ebbs, replaced by a sharp pain as images of Gen and Jaeger blind me. It could have been innocent—him holding her—but after what Gen told me this afternoon, I feel like I don’t know anything.

  My head sinks onto the headrest. I thought returning to Lake Tahoe would help me work through my reservations over grad school. But it’s horrible here.

  I have to get out. Away from all of this.

  The door to the cabin slams shut behind me, but my brother’s gaze remains fixed on the television. He hasn’t moved from his position on the couch. The only difference between when I left and now is that he’s watching a surfing flick instead of motocross.

  “Tyler, I need to leave.”

  “Okay,” he says without looking up. “I’m not planning on going anywhere. Take the car.”

  “No. I mean I need to get out of town. I want to visit Mom. She’s been asking me to come.”

  Tyler lifts his gaze. “Uh, okay. When were you thinking?”

  I close my eyes briefly and inhale. “Now?”

  “Now. As in, right now? This minute?”

  I nod.

  Tyler clicks off the television and sets the remote on the couch’s armrest. “What’s up, Cali? What’s going on?”

  “Everything. Have you ever just needed to get out of town?”

  Tyler looks past me. “Yeah.”

  “Well, this is one of those moments. I can’t stay here another minute.”

  He slaps his knees with his palms and stands. “Okay, then. Pack your stuff. We’ll call Mom on our way.”

  Tears collect behind my eyes. I have an awesome brother. Tyler knows something’s up, but he’s not pushing for details. He’s giving me space.

  If I cry, though, he will ask. I blink hard and swallow back the tears. I go into my room to pack.

  An hour later, we pull into the drive of Mom’s single-level house in Carson City. It’s dark and there’s not much to see, but the neighborhood appeared quiet and safe when we drove in.

  My mom opens the front door, then pushes open a metal screen. She takes the first step onto the cement stoop and clenches her cotton bathrobe closed. “Nobody’s sick or dying?”

  “We’re fine, Mom,” I say as I walk up the driveway.

  “All right, then. Tyler, show your sister to the guest bedroom. You can sleep on the couch.”

  “The couch?” He groans. “Mom, last week I was in the guest room. Now I’m relegated to the couch?”

  “Would you like to sleep on the floor? No? Then quit your bitching and help your little sister with her luggage.”

  Tyler tosses my bag over his shoulder and disappears inside.

  My mom grabs my hand before I pass. “We’ll talk tomorrow about what’s going on.”

  She can always tell when something’s up.
She knows me, and she’s intuitive. And I need her right now more than I care to admit.

  Chapter Twenty

  My mom’s little rancher has blue carpeting and brown tile counters, but it’s hers. I can tell by the way she flutters around the kitchen the next morning that she loves it. She’s making her famous cheesy eggs while Tyler sleeps in. After Mom and I woke and started banging around in the kitchen, Tyler wobbled into the guest bedroom and, I assume, crashed on the bed I’d abandoned.

  My mom sets a cup of coffee and some toast in front of me, sliding the eggs from the pan onto my plate. “Okay, Calista. Talk.”

  I’m not sure if it’s her voice, her use of my full name, or the soothing remnants of her perfume, but large tears gather behind my eyes, creeping down the slope between my nose and cheek.

  She rounds the table, scooches my butt over on the seat with her own, and locks me in a hug. “Shhh. It can’t be that bad, honey.”

  “It’s bad.” There’s so much crap that’s built up, I’m not sure where to start. I begin with the most obvious. I’ve gone back and forth, but my instincts haven’t veered. I take a deep breath and look up. “I don’t want to go to law school.”

  Mom stills for a moment, then rubs my arm. Up and down. Up and down.

  “Do you hate me?”

  She pulls back. “Why would I hate you?”

  “Because I’m not living up to my potential.”

  She shakes her head. “Cali, you’ve always lived up to your potential. You’ve never failed at anything you put your mind to.”

  “Eric dumped me.” Might as well get all the humiliating shit out there.

  She snorts. “Never liked him.”

  “You didn’t?” I study her face. “You never said anything.”

  “I wanted you to figure it out on your own. A mother doesn’t tell her daughter not to date a guy. It’s a sure way to push her into his arms.” She nudges me and winks. “I speak from experience. At least your father gave me you and Tyler. He also gave you his brilliant brain. Thankfully, you have my common sense.”

  “Mom, you’re smart.”

  She smiles. “Yes, honey.”

  I roll my eyes. This is a common argument. I hate it when my mom puts herself down. She’s had a rough life. She deserves more than she’s been given. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve a daughter screwing things up.

  She takes the seat next to me, giving my ass cheek back its spot on the chair. “What are you going to do? Do you want to stay here for a while? I spoke to Connie. She told me you lost your job at the casino.”

  I spit the gulp of coffee I took back into the cup and pinch my nostrils. Some of the liquid went up my nose. “She did?” My voice comes out in a high squeak. “And you didn’t call me?”

  “I figured I’d hear from you soon.”

  I can’t believe my mom isn’t lecturing me right now.

  She glares at me. “Didn’t I warn you that place is a cesspool? Those people have no morals.”

  There’s the lecture I expected. All is well in the world. I’m only surprised she isn’t accusing me of making a poor decision with school. I wish she’d had this lax attitude when I was sixteen. Tommy Parson would have been blamed for sneaking in my window instead of me getting grounded for allowing it.

  “Mom, I worked at the casino. You worked there. Not everyone who does has low morals.”

  “Well, there are exceptions.” She sweeps a lock of gold-red hair from my eyes. “So, you lost your job, your boyfriend, and you don’t want to go to the school you’ve worked half your life to get into. Have I got it all?”

  “Shit, Mom. Do you need to spell it out like that?”

  “Language, sister,” she scolds, which is as hypocritical as it gets. My mom is where I got my potty mouth.

  I frown. “There’s one more thing to add to the list. I’m not sure, but… there’s something going on with Gen.”

  She leans back like she’s farsighted. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been keeping things from me. I just found out Eric hit on her while we were dating. Gen was kind of a mess at the time, so I sort of get why she didn’t say anything until now. She said she didn’t tell me because she was worried I would think she led him on. I’d just gotten done telling her things were great between me and Eric when they really weren’t.”

  Mom takes a bite of the eggs cooling on her plate and I glance at my own. No one makes cheesy eggs like my mom. They’re the perfect comfort food. I shovel in a mouthful.

  “Cali, it sounds like she was caught in the middle and didn’t want to lose your friendship.”

  I spear another forkful of cheese heaven. “I know, but…” My mom sips her coffee, then sets the mug down, waiting. “…she was with Jaeger and he was holding her, and Mom, it made me sick,” I say, all in a rush.

  “Jaeger? The boy your brother was frien—”

  “Yes, yes.” I shovel more eggs into my mouth.

  “Uh-huh. Okay. So you’re with Jaeg now.”

  “No, Mom! This is not about my love life.”

  She pushes her plate across the table toward the sink. “Are you sure? Sounds like there’s something going on there.”

  “This is about trust. I don’t know who to trust. Gen told me she wasn’t seeing Jaeger, even though they went out, and then I found him holding her after I discovered she lied to me about Eric.”

  “And you don’t trust yourself with your future. I think I’m getting the picture.” She scrubs the dishes in the sink—no dishwasher in her new digs. She places my toast on a napkin and steals my empty plate. “What about Jaeg. Do you trust him?”

  I press a finger to the napkin, picking up toast crumbs and licking them off. “I want to, but I panicked when I saw them together. It’s partly why I came here.”

  It was the main reason—that and because Drake scared the shit out of me—but I’m not saying that to my mom. She’d want to know what’s going on with Jaeger. What we have is new and fragile. I’m not ready to talk about it yet. And the bit about Drake would have her calling everyone she knows at the casino to take the man down, which actually doesn’t sound half bad. But I don’t need my mom fighting my battles for me.

  “I should talk to Jaeger about what I saw, but I feel like I need to step away from it. Get my head on straight, you know? Aside from questioning what he and Gen were doing, Jaeger’s this accomplished artist with tons of money and I just lost my shitty casino job. If I give in to my reservations about a law career, I can add grad school dropout to the list.”

  My mom rolls her eyes. “Oh, the drama. You can’t be a dropout if you haven’t attended. Figure out what you want and don’t worry about what anyone thinks. Your brother and I will support your decision. We’d rather see you do something you love than something you hate. Have you any idea how difficult you are to live with when you’re not happy?”

  “Mom!”

  “It’s the truth. You’re a very passionate person, sweetheart.” My face flames. The last thing I want is for my mom to talk about me and passion in the same sentence. “You can either be passionately pissed off, or passionate about something that makes you happy. It’s your choice.”

  One of my biggest worries was that my mom would be disappointed if I didn’t attend Harvard or some other brilliant law school, but she’s acting surprisingly cool about the whole thing. This should make me feel better. It does. I just don’t want to end up nowhere.

  I have my own life goals, and job success is one of them. What’s the point of not attending graduate school if I don’t feel good about where I end up? Because I know with certainty that I don’t want to be a dealer for the rest of my life.

  That afternoon, Tyler and I stretch out on aluminum patio chairs in the backyard while my mom mans the barbecue. This is normal protocol in my family. My mom cooks and Tyler and I eat. Neither of us knows how to boil water (okay, we do, but we don’t like to). It’s extremely hot that Jaeger cooks, and self-preserving on my part to date h
im. Perks aside, I care for him and want to believe I misinterpreted what I saw. Given my state of mind over Gen at the time, I probably did, but I’m not ready to look into it. Fear is a fickle bitch.

  I dig a scooped chip into the salsa and load as much on top as possible to piss my brother off. He frowns, hastily dumping more salsa from the jar into the bowl. “If you eat it all, you’re making a store run,” he says.

  Bull’s-eye. Point one to Cali.

  I study the chip in my hand. “Tyler, do you think I’m artsy?”

  He chews a double-decker salsa-chip sandwich. “Sure. You make those sketches.”

  “Doodles…”

  If I don’t draw, I get grumpy. The doodles are my therapy, but I never thought about doing it for a living until Jaeger said I was talented. Artists are poor, right? Well, except Jaeger. He seems to be doing well. Even if he wasn’t, he loves what he does. And that counts for a lot, I’m coming to realize.

  Makes me wonder… if I got into an art program, could I do something with it? I’d have to moonlight in town to take art classes during the day.

  It’s not the worst idea.

  Mom rotates the chicken kebabs on her rusted barbecue. She’s wearing a V-neck T-shirt and turquoise shorts. Her pale legs look pretty darn toned for her forty-eight years. She tucks a lock of flame-red hair behind her ear. “Have you thought any more about what you want to do, Cali?”

  We’ve been talking about Tahoe and jobs all day. After Tyler woke, I mentioned the reservations I have regarding school. He shrugged and said I should do what I want, so no help there.

  “I enjoy the company and all,” Mom says, “but you’ll have to make a decision soon. You can stay with me, but I doubt Carson has more to offer than Lake Tahoe. What is it you really want?”

  She sets the barbecue tongs on the handle of the grill and plops into the chair beside me. She tugs my shoulders around so that my back faces her, and she begins braiding my hair. It’s our silent ritual. Mom says it relaxes her, but it downright puts me to sleep.

  “I’m not going to law school, Mom.” There, I’ve said it. I’m making it official. It was probably official the moment I told her I didn’t want to go, but this is definitive. I don’t know why this big decision now, with a tenuous love life and my livelihood and friendship with Gen in the toilet, but I’m taking a leap of faith it will all work out.