Headstrong

by Meg Maguire

  “Too casual?”

  “No! Too fancy. I need regular, everyday Colin. I need you in a T-shirt and crusty shoes with your tattoos all showing.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Exactly what impression am I meant to make, again?”

  “Something my father will disapprove of. You look way too presentable right now. You can’t wear that.”

  “I thought your dad was supposed to think you were behaving yourself.”

  “That’s Reece’s job, to give him that idea. It’s your job to help me continue my tradition of disappointing him…without totally freaking him out. I’ve been doing it for ten years now, and one day he’s going to finally give up on me completely and leave me alone.”

  Colin’s eyes narrowed—the first sincerely angry expression he’d ever aimed at her.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, Libby. Why not replay the last minute of this conversation in your head and try to guess why I might be insulted right now.”

  Libby could see the coffee trembling inside its pot. “Don’t be angry.”

  “I am angry. That hurt, you know.”

  “Tiger—”

  “I won’t be angry in a half hour, but I am right now. And I’ll still turn up and play the part of your fuck-up escort, since I’m apparently such a natural choice. But let me be pissed off for a little while.” He gave her a final squint and turned away, setting the coffee on the counter en route his room, tugging the sweater up over his back.

  “Colin.” Libby was used to playing on men’s emotions, but not like this. Especially not after what she’d done the night before. The power she seemed to have over this man was alarming. She hopped up and jogged to his bedroom door. “Colin.”

  He pulled a T-shirt over his bare chest, and Libby had to swallow back another dose of that fear his body always triggered.

  “Forget it,” he sighed, sounding as though he was already getting over her slight.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just…I don’t know. You’re not every father’s dream, I guess.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

  “You can dress nice if you want.”

  “No, I’ll play by your rules.” His voice was quiet and sad. “After what you told me last night, I can’t say I’m too keen to impress him, anyhow.”

  “I really didn’t mean it like that,” she repeated, thinking of what he’d told her, and how he was surely one particular father’s complete and utter nightmare. She could practically hear the sarcastic slow-clapping for her latest show of diplomacy. “I’m sure I’d disappoint a lot of people’s mothers if they brought me to dinner.”

  “My mum likes you.”

  “I guess.”

  “She does. She used to be feisty like you, before things got so rough around here. I’m sure you remind her a little of herself, when she was younger.”

  Libby wasn’t sure what to say to this so she shrugged and smiled.

  “What time is this dinner, exactly?” Colin asked, sounding like himself again.

  “Six thirty. I have to go and analyze some lab results for most of the day, but I’ll meet you there. And don’t forget to think up a fake last name, in case my father asks.”

  “Already done. What do you think of Colin Philips?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Cute. Just leave the soft rock at home.”

  “How did it go, anyway—talking to your sister?”

  “I um… I sort of called her office number when I knew she wouldn’t be there, and left a message with the time and address.”

  Colin shook his head.

  “I know, it was chickenshit. But at least I didn’t reply with a text.”

  “Only because you don’t own a cell phone.”

  “Anyhow…I’m sorry, again. I’ll see you at six thirty?”

  “That you will.”

  “Actually, come earlier. Meet me outside. I could use you there, while I’m getting my balls together.”

  Colin nodded. “Whatever you fancy.”

  Colin locked his bike against a telephone pole and glanced at his pager. Five twenty-five. Perfect. He jogged up the four long flights to the tae kwon do studio. As he kicked his shoes off he nodded to Reece, dressed in street clothes and chatting to the instructor manning the front desk.

  Reece eyed Colin’s bag. “All right, Col? You aren’t here for class, are you?”

  He shook his head. “Just dying for a shower.”

  “Oh, right—the dinner thing.” Reece frowned.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t figure it out,” Colin said. “I won’t wreck your lucrative charade. ‘Hide in plain sight’ and all that. You heading home?”

  “Yeah. I’m due behind the bar at six.”

  “Well, I’ll let you know how we get on.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do this,” Reece said, for about the tenth time since Colin had announced his intentions. “It’s going to make my job so much harder. How do I explain the fact that I’ve never documented you and Libby together?”

  “So document us. Tonight, or tomorrow morning. We’ll say it’s a new development. Whatever. All I know is she said she needs me there, so I’m going.”

  “Well, be careful. I somehow doubt you and Tom Prentiss are destined to be top mates. Just try and seem upstanding.” Reece took in Colin’s clothes, ripe from eight long, damp hours’ cycling. “Are you going to change at all?”

  “Yeah…although practically into an identical outfit. Libby wouldn’t let me dress up.” He wondered if his bitterness was audible.

  “You don’t have to grant every one of her wishes, you know.”

  Colin crossed him arms and gave Reece a telling look. One that said, Yes, I do, and you bloody well know it.

  Reece shook his head. “Well, I better head out. I’ll see you in a few hours. Be good.”

  “Yeah,” Colin muttered. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Their eyes met for a split second, and Reece looked stony as Colin made his way to the locker room.

  He was willing to honor Libby’s wishes up to a point, but he wasn’t about to meet her father smelling like a bike messenger. He stripped and showered and dressed again in fresh jeans and a T-shirt that dutifully showcased his tattoos. He hoped the restaurant would be cold and he could keep his jacket on. It felt shameful, this desire to hide who he was.

  After what Libby had told him about the stuff her father had put her through when she was sixteen, he shouldn’t give a shit about impressing the man. It was a stupid impulse. Stupid especially, since her dad’s endorsement would probably only count against him in Libby’s estimations. But if he was going to meet the asshole, he wanted to do it as a respectable man, dressed like one, and feeling like one. Not looking like this, feeling so inadequate.

  He gave himself a study in the mirror above the sink, running his hands over his face, his scar. “You are bloody pathetic.”

  “What was that?” A long-time black-belt student entered the changing area and smiled at Colin.

  “All right, Matt? And nothing. I’m just reminding myself what an idiot I am.”

  “Nothing like a good pep talk. You here for sparring? It’s been ages, hasn’t it?” Matt dropped his gym bag and began to change. “I don’t think I’ve fought you since you were about twenty.”

  Colin sighed. “No, I have a date, actually. Just here to get cleaned up.”

  “Well done.”

  “Eh, not really. I got tapped because she’s looking to horrify her father, and apparently I’m just the man for the job.”

  Matt laughed. “That’s a little harsh. What’s in it for you?”

  “I’m in love with her.”

  “You’re in love with a girl who’s using you because she reckons her dad will hate you? And who told you as much?”

  Colin pursed his lips, wanting to say it wasn’t as bad as it sounded but realizing it probably was. “That’s the long and the short of it, yeah. Oh, and she might be in love with Reece.”

  M
att slid his belt around his waist and knotted it with a tug. “No offense, Col, but that’s tragic.” He walked over and gave Colin a confused and commiserating slap on the arm before exiting with his sparring equipment.

  Colin turned back to the mirror. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  At six sharp Colin rounded the corner and found Libby outside the bistro, trying to make smoke rings with her breath in the cold night air. She spotted him and smiled, though the gesture didn’t extend beyond her mouth. Seeing her so anxious dissolved every last ounce of bitterness Colin had been fostering.

  “Hey, Tiger.”

  “All right, Libby?” He peeled off his gloves and unrolled the cuffs of his jeans. “You nervous?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. You?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m here for you.”

  “I know. I appreciate it.”

  Colin took a deep breath and cast his eyes around the sidewalk. “You want to go in and get a drink?”

  She nodded.

  They stepped inside the bistro and the greeter checked Libby’s reservation.

  “There’s a table free now, if you want to order your drinks and wait for the rest of your party.”

  They followed a young waitress to a table set for four in the middle of the trendy restaurant. Colin looked around, noting the clientele. There was no dress code but he felt pretty certain they were violating an unwritten one, showing up in jeans and sneakers.

  He sat down and passed Libby the drink menu. “Coffee,” he said to the waitress.

  “Shiraz, please,” Libby added after a glance at the list.

  The waitress nodded and disappeared.

  “Blimey.” Colin slipped his jacket off, eyes darting from the entrance to the front window and back again. “I am bloody terrified.” No understatement. He wondered if Libby could hear his heart pounding.

  “You look fine,” she said.

  “Meaning awful.”

  “I’m sorry about that. And no, you don’t look awful. You look very nice. Especially your tattoos.”

  He rolled his eyes at her.

  “Wait ’til you see my sister. I’ll look like a pile of puke compared to her. Like a before-and-after shot on one of those makeover shows where they turn a bag lady into a pageant winner.”

  “What does she do?” he asked.

  “She finished law school a couple years ago. She’s starting out at some Manhattan firm. But she wants to teach, eventually. College level. The Prentiss clan are very academic.”

  “So you’re not a total misfit.”

  “No, not utterly. Well educated, plus we all like boats…although I’m sure my dad would prefer I owned a yacht and not a converted fishing trawler.”

  “Are they close, your dad and sister?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Not like a Hallmark card, but they get along. She plays by the rules. I think she likes rules, actually. Maybe I should set her up with Reece.”

  “What’s your mum like?”

  Their drinks arrived. Libby took a generous swallow, then laughed. “Beats the hell out of me… My mom’s like Martha Stewart, with hired help. She’s into garden parties and cut crystal.”

  “Are you two not friendly?”

  “I couldn’t even tell you. She’s so checked out of the real world. The morning I got taken off to the crazy-house, like three days after I slashed my wrist, do you know what she said to me?”

  Colin shook his head.

  Libby chirped through a toothy smile, “I hope you have a nice rest, darling! Be courteous with the staff!”

  “Miss Manners?”

  “Try delusional. She sent me cookies every other week for two years with notes saying things like, Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail. I mean, her daughter tries to kill herself and she quotes Emerson.”

  “Is your sister like that?”

  “No, thank God.” Libby straightened her utensils. “She’s okay. She just keeps her head down and reaps the harvest of Prentiss privilege. She’s the smart one.”

  “What was she like when you got sent away?”

  “She was perfect. She called a lot.” Libby folded her napkin into quarters. “But I didn’t call her back much.”

  “How come?”

  “Same reason you avoided talking to Reece when you were having trouble, I guess. She was just a reminder of what I’d failed to be. You’ll see. Take a look at the two of us when they get here and try and figure out which one’s any father’s favorite.”

  “That’s sad. I mean, you’re twins and all. I always imagined that’d be a tough bond to break.”

  “It can be, but we were never identical beyond our outsides. Our personalities have always clashed. Not like clashed, not like me and my dad.”

  “You know, Reece and our father didn’t always get along.”

  Libby looked up from her napkin origami. “No?”

  “No—” Colin stopped. A tall, sophisticated blonde with a very familiar face had entered. She and an equally tall, equally sophisticated man with silver hair approached the greeter’s podium. The hostess gestured to the table and began to walk them over.

  “Oh, God,” Libby groaned.

  Colin squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  She nodded, sucked in a deep breath and pushed her chair out. Colin followed suit.

  Her sister smiled widely and waved over the hostess’s shoulder, mouthing, “Hi!”

  Libby was tugged into a passionate, full-body, sisterly embrace. “Hey,” she mumbled. Colin watched her offer her dad a tight smile. She seemed to consider his open arms a moment before letting him hug her.

  “Hey, guys. I brought a date. This is Colin.” She drew him forward by the arm. “This is my dad, Tom, and my sister, Abby.”

  “Very nice to meet you both,” Colin said.

  He couldn’t read her father’s expression. Tom Prentiss just nodded curtly and removed his gloves and shook Colin’s hand. Colin shoved everything he’d learned the previous night to the back of his mind and smiled politely.

  Abby gave him a far warmer reception, a quick hug and a cordial, “It’s so great to meet you.”

  Colin got momentarily lost trying to locate Libby behind the mascara and faint perfume. Black dress, sensible flats, leather handbag. Like Libby dressed up as a conservative for Halloween. Weird.

  Mr. Prentiss pulled out Abby’s chair and they all sat.

  Abby was the first to break the initial silence. She turned to Libby. “Damn, your hair got long. And blonder. And crazier.”

  Libby gave it a little shake. “I’ve taken up surfing.”

  “Oh, cool. That’s on my six-page list of things to try, here. Too bad we’ve only got a couple days.”

  Colin glanced back and forth between them, fascinated.

  Their father spoke but only to address the waitress. “Scotch and soda.”

  “Malbec, please,” Abby added. “So, Colin, what do you do?”

  He glanced to Libby a moment, feeling awkward. “I’m a bike messenger. And a bartender.”

  “Wow, you must have some stories,” Abby said.

  He smiled. “Probably not compared to the couriers in Manhattan.”

  “But a bartender too. You must hear stuff.”

  Mr. Prentiss broke in. “Is that where you two met? At a bar?” He raised an eyebrow at Libby.

  “Actually, Dad, we met outside a bar,” she said sweetly. Colin could see her pursed lips twitching, fighting—fighting to keep from adding something like, Colin offered to beat someone up for me.

  “I wasn’t working there,” Colin said. “It was a karaoke bar. Libby’s an amazing singer.”

  “God, I know,” Abby said. “Trust me, we don’t share that gene.”

  Libby’s eyes darted back to her dad. “How was your flight?”

  “Long and expensive. How is your research progressing?” His tone was hard to translate.

  “It’s thrilling, Father. I’m sure I’ll develop a
miracle cancer cure and finally earn this family a little credibility.”

  Abby’s smile wilted, and she looked relieved when her wine showed up. Colin was half-tempted to have a stiff drink, himself. The waitress rattled off the specials, and he tried to get lost in his menu.

  Mr. Prentiss yanked him back into the fray. “What about your family, Mr…?”

  “Philips.”

  “Are you from the Wellington area?”

  Colin swallowed, unsure how much her dad might know about Reece’s background. “Yeah,” he said, and left it at that.

  “And what does your family do?”

  Colin felt his brows rise at such a pompous question and tugged them back down. “We’re in hospitality.”

  “I see.”

  “I just found out you’re the Prentiss behind Prentiss University. That’s got to be pretty …”

  “Lucrative,” Libby supplied.

  “Interesting,” Colin corrected. “It’s such a good school.”

  “Not good enough for some,” Mr. Prentiss returned coolly, gaze fixed on Libby.

  “What can you recommend we see, while we’re in Wellington?” Abby asked Colin, smiling as though she hadn’t felt how cold the atmosphere had grown.

  “Well, I imagine you’d just want to see Libby.” Colin glanced anxiously between all of them. “She’s the most interesting thing in the city, in my opinion.” He could practically feel the heat coming off Libby’s face.

  The waitress arrived to take their orders.

  “How long have you guys been going out?” Abby asked as the menus were taken away.

  “Um, this is our first date, technically.” Colin looked to his side, where Libby was busy mutilating a roll on her bread plate. “But we’ve been friends for a few weeks, now.”

  “Are you still living on a boat?” Mr. Prentiss asked Libby.

  “Yeah. When I’m not at Colin’s,” she added, her look meeting the challenge in her father’s tone.

  “You couldn’t rent an apartment like a normal person?”

  Colin’s jaw tensed.

  “Your very wording implies that I’m not normal, Dad, so it shouldn’t come as a shock when I say no, I guess I couldn’t.”

  Mr. Prentiss buttered his roll stoically. “Keep your voice down, please.”