Next Year I'll be Perfect

by Laura Kilmartin

  Slapping his hand down on the table, he laughed, “I'm glad you two are finally getting along. I see a lot of late nights together in all of our futures.”

  Fabulous.

  It was going to be hard enough avoiding Morgan when his second year of law school ended in a few months and he began working at the office full time through the summer. Now we were both assigned to work together researching the same subject.

  I dared a glance at Morgan, only to find him looking in my direction. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments before we both turned quickly, but it was long enough for me to see the same emotions I felt shimmering back at me – fear… shame… fear…regret… fear… sadness…

  And did I mention, fear?

  Tuning back into the sound of Frank's voice, I realized he had been waxing poetic about Lightship Island and summers spent there as a boy the entire time I had drifted off to obsess about how I was going to work with Morgan. The man was practically bouncing over this new assignment, and it was a known fact that Frank Murphy simply did not bounce.

  There was no way I was going to burst his bubble.

  An idea suddenly dawned on me. This could actually be a great opportunity. What better way to show Frank I was partner material than to take an important new assignment and bat it out of the park?

  “So, what do you think, Sarah?”

  Knowing the answer Frank was looking for, and feeling only slightly like a liar, “It sounds terrific, Frank. Where do we start?”

  March

  S-

  YOU CAN'T IGNORE ME forever. I'll be in town Friday.

  Grab a booth at the Beer and I'll meet you there at seven.

  Invite Livvie. You can't kill me in front of a witness.

  -D

  Like hell I couldn't.

  I crumpled David's e-mail back in my purse and took a sip from my drink, waiting at our favorite bar, the Grizzly Beer, for both Livvie and David to arrive. I was surprised at David – he should know that one of Livvie's greatest traits was her loyalty. If I called her any time of the day or night and told her I needed help disposing of a body, her only question would be whether she should bring her own shovel.

  Thinking it over, once Livvie found out David had screwed up my date with Morgan, it was actually my presence that might be David's best chance for survival. That thought made me giggle to myself as I sat watching the happy hour crowd mill around the bar.

  From my vantage point near the back, I immediately noticed my friend as she walked in the door. It was an unusually warm spring day, and while my hair was frizzed and linen suit wrinkled, Livvie was crisp and cool as always. She wore a flowing print dress topped with an emerald green blazer that just matched the large polished stone hanging from her neck. Spotting me waving from the corner, she waved back and sauntered over, thoroughly oblivious to the admiring glances she received from some of our fellow patrons.

  “Hey, Sarah.” She scooted into the booth next to me. “Bitch of a week, huh? How are you doing?”

  I shook my head. There was no way I'd consumed enough alcohol yet to begin reliving the Morgan debacle, but I knew Livvie was dying for details. All I had shared with her so far was that the date was a disaster, it was entirely my fault and I was considering which religious sect I should join that embraced both celibacy and cute shoes.

  “Can my story wait?” I begged. “David should be here soon and I can't bear to tell it twice.”

  “Fine, but I expect full disclosure later. What do you want to talk about in the meantime?” Livvie asked, pausing briefly to order a cabernet from our waitress.

  An easy question. “Tell me about Byron. Are you going to go out with him?”

  Byron was the carpenter Livvie had hired to remodel her downstairs bathroom. He was divorced with no kids in his late forties and owned his own business. On paper he was perfect, but Livvie was still reluctant to accept his offer of dinner and a movie.

  “I haven't decided yet. His background check came back clean, though.”

  I dropped the peanut I'd been about to shell back into the bowl in the middle of the table and turned my gaze to my friend. “I'm sorry…his what?”

  Livvie had the good grace to look embarrassed, playing with the sugar packets on the table as she responded. “His background check.”

  I said nothing, but my raised eyebrows alone spurred her to continue. “Fine, go ahead and judge me, but I do a quick check on a few lists whenever I date someone new. Just the biggies. You know, the national sex offender registry, the Better Business Bureau…”

  “No, I do not know. I don't investigate my dates.”

  My friend's silence was very suspicious, and she resumed her interest in lining up the pink sweet & low packets in orderly rows.

  “Please tell me you didn't.”

  “Hey, I work for the District Attorney and see a lot of scary files paraded by my desk,” Livvie replied. “People didn't just make up the whole, ‘he was very quiet and kept to himself’ thing, you know. It's not like serial killers wear neon signs announcing themselves to the world.”

  “So you do background checks on my dates as well as yours?”

  She smirked. “Well, given your dating history, it's not like it takes up a lot of my time.”

  “That's just cold.” I returned my focus to the peanuts in front of me while Livvie sipped at her drink for a moment before finally breaking the palpable silence.

  “You want to know, don't you?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” Livvie picked up the menu. “Do you think an order of calamari is enough to get us started?”

  I held out for all of twelve seconds before I called her bluff and ripped the menu from her hands. “Okay. You win. What did you find out about Morgan?”

  “Oh, Sarah, I couldn't possibly tell you. I wouldn't want to compromise your high moral standards.”

  “Bite me.”

  “Temper, temper, dear.” Taking an exaggerated sip of wine, Livvie finally said, “he's pretty clean. A few speeding tickets and one misdemeanor charge when he was a high school senior. Some kind of prank involving the cross-town team's school mascot. Probation and a fine.”

  “Was it by any chance a goat? Are you telling me I'm dating Greg Brady?”

  My friend shrugged her shoulders. “Nope. You're not dating Greg Brady. You apparently screwed up and got dumped by Greg Brady.”

  “You're just a little ray of sunshine today aren't you?”

  Livvie just laughed. “Hey, I can't help that I'm cranky. All you've told me is that you suck and you won't be dating Morgan again, but you won't tell me what happened.”

  I looked up as the problem walked through the door. “What happened is that I listened to David.”

  “Hi, ladies.” David ignored my pronouncement, leaned over the booth and gave me a crushing hug.

  “Don't try to make up with me.” I complained, wriggling from his grasp. “I'm still mad at you.”

  “Okay, then, I'll hug Livvie,” he said proceeding to do just that.

  “You got here just in time, Thornton,” Livvie replied returning the hug. “Sarah is blaming you for her dismal date.”

  David cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, well, she might have a point.”

  With that, Livvie's already limited patience had reached its end. “Okay, spill. What exactly happened between you and Morgan?

  I took a long swallow from my beer before I admitted, “I asked him if we were in a relationship. I asked him if I could be his girlfriend. I basically stopped just short of asking whether he wanted stuffed chicken or prime rib at the wedding reception dinner.”

  Yup.

  From the look on Livvie's face, my mistake in judgment had been every bit as horrible as I thought it was.

  Her mouth opened and closed a few moments before the words finally pushed themselves past her lips. “What. The. Fuck. Possessed you to ask that on a first date?”

  I pointed at the guilty party. “Him. It was his fault. David suggested
it.”

  Livvie's eyes narrowed as she regarded David. All six foot three inches of him began to shrink under her gaze. He shrunk even further at her icy tone. “Tell me David, exactly why would you suggest Sarah be so forward on her first date with Morgan?”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

  David's weak attempt at levity didn't score him any points.

  “Well, it was bad advice. Incredibly bad advice.”

  “It was very bad advice.” I agreed, smug in Livvie's condemnation of David's behavior.

  My smirk disappeared pretty quickly as Livvie swung her attention my way.

  “Oh, you're not off the hook here, Sarah. You're the moron who executed the plan. What were you thinking?”

  Wow. Having earned Livvie's undivided wrath was kind of scary, and I decided my best plan for survival was diversion. “I was thinking that David is a guy and probably knew what guys wanted to hear. Ask David what he was thinking.”

  Before he could speak up, though, Livvie jumped in with, “Oh, I know what David was thinking.”

  Well that was cryptic. What was especially strange was that David didn't defend himself from Livvie's odd comment. He merely caught her eye and gazed down at the tabletop, clearly guilty of something.

  “What did that mean?” I swiveled, posing my question between my friends. “What's going on between you two tonight?”

  “Shit.”

  Well that wasn't the response I was expecting from Livvie. But, before I could question her, I noted she wasn't looking at me. She was looking toward the door of the bar where five young men and one woman had just entered.

  One of the men was Morgan Donovan.

  And the woman was Cory Latham.

  “Shit,” I agreed.

  “What's going on?” David turned and spotted Cory. “Oh. I guess they'll serve anyone at this bar.”

  “That's not all.” I informed him, feeling fresh nausea as the waitress placed a plate of calamari in front of us that I barely remembered ordering. “The guy in the blue button down and Dockers is the famous Morgan Donovan.”

  David whipped around again. “Huh. He's kind of short, don't you think?”

  “To a giant like you, yes.” Livvie rolled her eyes. “To mere mortals like us, he meets the minimum height requirement.”

  “It figures he's here with Cory,” I muttered. “That really does sum up the way my life is going.”

  Livvie opened her mouth to either continue yelling at me or soothe my wounded heart, but wasn't able to do either as her cell phone chose that moment to ring.

  “Bail? Who in their right mind authorized that?” She rolled her eyes at us and mouthed that she'd be just a moment as she left the table to unravel the evening's crisis.

  “I've got an idea.”

  I considered David with some distrust given his recent track record. “What kind of idea?”

  “An idea that will turn things around with Morgan and make him admit he's interested in you.”

  “And why should I trust you?”

  “Come on, Bennett.” David playfully smacked me on the shoulder. “I've been giving you advice for over two decades. You can't give up on me over one misstep.”

  That did sound reasonable. “What's your idea?”

  “My brilliant idea is based on the premise that every man wants the one thing he can't have. If Morgan thinks he can't have you, then you will be the only thing he wants.”

  The lightbulb went off. “You want me to make Morgan jealous?”

  David gestured toward the group at the bar. “When Morgan walked in with Cory, what were you feeling?”

  The man had a point.

  “Scoot over.” I ordered before I had time to reconsider. But, as David put his arm around me and pulled my chair even closer, I wished that perhaps I did.

  The gesture felt wrong, somehow, but in the time it took me to realize, David had grabbed a morsel from the plate of fried calamari in front of us.

  “Mmmm, delicious! Sarah, you need to try this.” The crispy sea creature was dangled above my mouth and I was forced to open my lips and eat from David's fingers while he turned his head slightly and gave me a quick kiss on the temple.

  “You can stop the floorshow, kids. Morgan just walked out.” Livvie announced with a clipped tone as she returned to the table.

  “Did they notice?” I cringed, anticipating the answer.

  “Notice what?” She replied, pushing the food as far away from her place setting as possible and downing her drink a little more quickly than usual. “The fact you were making asses out of yourselves?”

  “Oh, Livvie, come on…” David started, but swallowed his words as Livvie's index finger came dangerously close to the tip of his nose.

  “Do not even get me started on you, Thornton.” Turning back my way, she sighed. “That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen. Do you even remember that Morgan was the one you flirted with at the singles party last month to get rid of Ryan?”

  Um, no, actually. I hadn't.

  “So, this time you were flirting with David to make Morgan jealous, but he didn't know that. He probably thought you were crawling all over David to make Morgan go away just like you crawled all over Morgan in an attempt to make Ryan go away. And by the looks of the way he bolted, it worked.”

  My heart stopped at Livvie's words. Driving Morgan even further away was the last thing on my mind. “I didn't mean…”

  “Just don't. Okay, Sarah?” Livvie sighed, picked up her napkin and placed it back in her lap. “Let's just forget this little scene ever happened and have a nice quiet meal. In fact, let's make a pact not to mention Morgan, Cory…hell, anyone that isn't on the front cover of the National Enquirer.”

  David nodded, duly chastised and happy to be out from under Livvie's wrath. “Celebrity-only conversation. You've got it. The Emmy nominations are next week. Rooting for anyone in particular?”

  I didn't really care about the Emmy nominations, but I tried to pay attention to the conversation and inject a little celebrity gossip when it was my turn. Unfortunately, though, my mind kept returning to the thought that instead of achieving goals before I was 30, I was actually losing ground and making stupid decisions.

  I needed to regroup and regroup fast.

  * * *

  “You're an idiot.”

  I snapped my tape measure back into place and rose from my knees where I'd been measuring the width of the master bedroom wall. “I'm aware of that. Care to be more specific?”

  Livvie opened the drapes to scrutinize the view of the backyard. “Sure. You were an idiot the other night at the Grizzly Beer. I can't believe you let David fall all over you in front of Morgan.”

  “What can I say?” I opened and closed the closet door to be certain of the tight fit. “I know. I'm an idiot. You've told me a hundred times in the last two days. I will apologize to Morgan and then flog myself in the town square. Can we just leave it at that and go look at the kitchen again?”

  Apparently satisfied at my penance, she walked slowly through the two bedroom, one bath ranch my broker Eliot had taken us to visit. It was our fourteenth house of the day and we'd unbelievably worn even the energetic real estate agent to the point he was resting on the resin porch furniture waiting for Livvie and I to take one final tour of the place.

  “The cabinets are a little outdated, but I think a change of hardware would make a huge difference. The doors themselves are in good shape.”

  “I thought the same thing,” I agreed.

  “It's a good neighborhood. Lyle Sampson grew up just around the corner.”

  I listened to the words, but as I touched my hand to the flecked Formica counter, I shook my head. “No. This just doesn't feel right. Let's see what else Eliot has to show us.”

  “Sarah. This house is exactly what you're looking for. The price is right and its fifteen minutes from the office. It's big enough to entertain, but small enough for one person to keep it clean. Tell me what's wrong with it.�
�

  I shrugged, unable to put my dissatisfaction into words. “I don't know. It just doesn't have the right vibe.”

  “Unacceptable. I don't care about vibes. Tell me objectively one thing that makes you not want to buy this house.”

  “Okay, fine. It's set on a slab foundation.”

  For not speaking, Livvie's expression clearly stated, “And?…”

  “It has no basement. Where will I put the treadmill?”

  Livvie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sarah, my lunatic friend, you don't have a treadmill.”

  I nodded. “But if I had a basement, I'd buy one.”

  “You're hopeless.” Livvie pulled out the notebook she'd been scribbling on all day and began reading from her notes. “The first house had poor water pressure. The second house had a pink bathtub. The third house was on Peach Lane and you're allergic to peaches. The fourth house…”

  “What about the fourth house?”

  Livvie closed her notebook and put it back in her purse. “The fourth house was that dive on Longfellow Street. I'm actually going to give you that one.”

  “What's your point? You didn't expect me to find a house on the first day of looking, did you?” I slumped against the counter.

  “No.” Livvie admitted. “I know it takes most people a long time to find a house. It's a huge commitment and you shouldn't make a snap decision.”

  “Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?”

  “But, most people actually want to buy a house when they go shopping for one. I just don't think your heart is in it. I think you want to buy a house because you wrote down on a piece of paper the fact that you think you should buy a house.”

  “It's not just written down. It's laminated.” I reminded her.

  “Seriously, Sarah, before your twenty-ninth birthday I hadn't heard you talking about buying a house in years. It wasn't even on your radar until that stupid list put it there.”

  “Maybe so, but it's on my radar now. Don't think of it as a new goal. Think of it as a goal I used to have and forgot about until my list reminded me.”