“Look I had a long talk with him. He knows not to do that again.”
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Who was this idiot? Because this wasn't the man I went into business with.
“Mat, you need to chill out.” There must have been ice water in Tom’s veins maintaining his calm; unfortunately, I had my mother’s temper.
“Here’s an idea, let us buy you out, then you can go into business with Avery, because there’s no fucking way I’m staying in business with you.”
“Everyone needs to chill the fuck out.” So much for ice water—I think this was the first time I’d ever heard Tom drop the F-bomb. Usually, I’m the only profane stooge.
“Fine, I’m outta here. Because if I hear one more ‘I’ll talk to him,’ I’m gonna smash someone’s face.” I stormed out of the conference room, the door ricocheting loudly. Fuck! Now I’d have to patch the fucking wall. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!
Mel looked ready to duck and cover as I slammed my way out of the building, and that pissed me off even more. I knew I'd have to make it up to her tomorrow with some flowers, or chocolate, something.
Changing course, I headed for the gym, feeling a powerful need to pound something. It must’ve shown in my expression, because everyone gave me a wide berth—well, wider than normal—as I wove my way past various exercise machines to the treadmills facing a wall of flat-screen TVs in the back. They were state of the art, programmed with a variety of virtual routes. You want to run in the mountains, choose the Yosemite program. You could run through jungles or deserts, or on the moon; even mars.
Choosing the most aggressive program, I started off, setting a punishing pace. I pounded up and down the virtual hills with trance music pouring from my earbuds, my feet angrily slapping the rubber belt. After ten minutes I was sweating profusely, another five, my second wind kicked in, and my breathing evened out; my shoulders loosened and my fists unclenched. My mind emptied as the beat of my feet controlled my breaths: one, two, three inhale… one, two, three exhale… inhale… exhale…
Daddy smiled when I stumble out in a sleepy fog. I’d spent the night vacillating between my parents’ impending divorce, and trying to define my—could it be called a relationship—with Mat. Which in turn, led to thoughts of doors, power tools and some frankly perverted possibilities—my inner skank had some serious issues—Daddy obviously found as much humor in my bed-head as Mat did, but I forgave him since coffee accompanied his morning kiss.
“Mmmmm… I could get use to this.” Sighing, I savored the first sweet, creamy sip. Both of us took our coffee extra sweet, so he was to blame for my addiction to the white death. “Morning, Daddy.”
“Morning, baby girl.” After setting two plates of scrambled eggs on the coffee table, he joined me on the sofa for the morning news. He looked better today. Lighter. Perhaps he’d been afraid I’d freak out over the divorce, and honestly, not so long ago that would’ve been distinct possibility.
“I have to go into the lab for a few hours this morning, but I can leave early if you want some help getting your stuff.” I said, guilt weighing heavily on me. I knew our talk had sparked his anger, a talk I now regretted. Maybe if I hadn’t said anything, they’d still be okay.
“I’d like that. I’m just not sure where we’re going to put it all.” He looked around. “My clothes won’t be a problem; it’s the garage I’m worried about. I need to pack it all up before your mother does something spiteful.”
“How about renting a storage unit? If you can arrange that, I’ll find a few undergrads to lend us a hand with the heavier stuff.” I finished my last bite of eggs with the day looking a bit brighter now that we had a plan, and Daddy shooed me away when I started gathering our plates, saying he needed to earn his keep while I brought home the bacon.
I figured if I left now, I could get the most pressing items on my to-do list finished before the intrusion of the regular day’s business. I could get a lot more accomplished without vendors and service technicians interrupting me, and my colleagues dropping in to gossip. And the phone calls—don’t get me started—my voice-mail and I had a love-hate relationship. I loved that I could screen my calls; I hated that I had to wade through a bunch of useless messages because one of them might be important. At least my email came with spam filters.
When Les and Steve walked in, I was reviewing the latest draft of a white paper Bob was having kittens over—as if I've ever missed a deadline. Sheesh—and they must’ve stopped at the coffee cart downstairs because they brought goodies. For me? Guys, you shouldn’t have. God, it was good having minions. “Hey guys.”
“You’re in early,” Steve observed, handing me a coffee with just the right amount of froth.
“Yeah, I’m getting a jump on the day since I need to leave early.”
“Leaving early wouldn’t have anything to do with a sexy tatted up bald guy would it?”
“If only…”
“Oh no, please don’t tell me it was a camping fail. I haven’t had fantasies this good in years. Don’t ruin it by revealing underneath that bad boy exterior is an arachnophobic-Nancy-boy.” Only Les could tell someone she was fantasizing about their honey and get away with it.
“No, camping was great.”
“Great huh, so he’s everything advertised?” Les fanned herself, making swoony eyes.
“And more.” I nodded, knowing my blush was like blood in the water. “We’re going out to dinner on Wednesday.”
“Hah… I knew it.”
“Okay, now for the bad news before it hits the grapevine: My folks are getting a divorce.” Their lack of surprise indicated the grapevine was working faster than I’d anticipated. God, it wasn’t that juicy.
“So it’s true?” Steve asked, looking shocked. What were people saying?
“Well, that depends on what you’ve heard.” They exchanged glances. “Come on, it can’t be that bad, couples get divorced every day. Besides, better to hear it from my loyal peons than be caught off guard.”
Les nodded. “Okay boss, brace yourself… Word has it—well, has had it for quite some time actually—that Stephanie, aka Satan, has a thing for younger men. And indulges in said thing regularly at a very exclusive hotel… I mean spa. And apparently, on Friday the shit hit the proverbial fan when Mr. Martin’s, aka your dad’s, representative crashed her treatment—a massage I’m told, of a somewhat dubious nature—to serve her divorce papers.” Oh, God. A scandal like that would have tongues wagging for years to come.
Steve pulled me into an awkward embrace. “It gets worse.” Worse? How could this possibly get any worse?
Les took a fortifying breath. “Sweetie, Bob Tate was the one who served the papers.” Oh, no… no… no… Why would Daddy involve him? Well, if he thought Mom’s spa dates weren’t quite so innocent, I guess Bob made the perfect witness. He was a neutral acquaintance with a prestigious reputation, connected to all parties involved. How would I ever face him after this?
“Oh, God… I’m going to be sick.” I bolted around my desk, barely making it to the trashcan.
“It’s going to be okay.” Steve kept repeating, patting me on the back while I lost my breakfast. Oh God what time was it? I had to get out of here before Bob arrived.
“I can’t stay here.”
I grabbed my purse and fled. Praying I didn't run into anyone as I bypassed the elevator and raced down the stairs. It was a miracle I didn’t break my neck; although, that was looking awfully attractive right now. My GT growled reassuringly. And when I glanced in the rear-view mirror, Bob was standing next to his car, watching me drive away.
I had to pull over when I couldn't stop crying. The last thing I needed was to wreck my car, because I really couldn’t handle anymore shit right now. The vice kept tightening in my chest as my heart tried to pound its way out. I gasped, the air suddenly unsubstantial. I felt a cold rush over my skin as the world started to spin.
“Hey, Angie.”
“Mat?” I didn't know how my cell ended up at my ear.
“Baby what’s wrong? Where are you?” I must sound pretty bad a detached part of me noted.
“I’m in the UTC parking lot. Oh, God, I can’t breathe.”
“Are you injured?”
Am I injured? Things were getting foggy and black spots danced in front of me. “No.”
“Okay, baby. I’m on my way, stay with me. Where at UTC are you?”
“Ummm… Behind Nordstrom's I think. There’s no air.”
“No, honey, there’s too much air. You’re hyperventilating. You need to take slow breaths. Do you have a bag you can breathe into?”
“You sound really far away.” I started floating; the roaring in my ears drowned out his voice as he yelled my name.
A buzzing against my arm had me punching the cool down button. I was surprised to see I'd been running for over two hours. Still not ready to deal with Max in any kind of sane fashion, I debated letting the call go to voice-mail until I discovered Angie was on the other end.
“Hey, Angie.”
“Mat?” A knot started twisting in my gut. She sounded odd.
“Baby what’s wrong? Where are you?” Oh, God, let her be okay, not bleeding on the side of the road somewhere.
“I’m in the UTC parking lot… Oh God, I can’t breathe.” Already moving, I grabbed my gear not bothering to change, asking questions as I raced to my car.
“Are you injured?”
“No.” Thank God…
“Okay, baby. I’m on my way, stay with me. Where at UTC are you?”
“Behind Nordstrom's I think. There’s no air.” She was having a panic attack.
“No honey, there’s too much air. You’re hyperventilating. You need to take slow breaths. Do you have a bag you can breathe into?”
“You sound really far away.” Shit, she was passing out.
“Angie? Angie! Shit!” I raced up I-5, praying the traffic gods would keep the dumbasses and the highway patrol far from me. Ten minutes later, I was circling the mall’s parking lot, spotting Angie’s hotrod near the back right where she said.
“Angie?” She was slumped against the door with her eyes closed and mouth half open. I yanked on the door handle. Fuck! It was locked. I really didn't want to smash in one of her windows. I rapped a knuckle on the glass next to her head. “Angie, baby wake up.” She stirred a bit. “Angie, honey, you need to unlock the door.” Gazing out with unfocused eyes, her mouth moved and I saw my name on her lips. “Yeah baby, it’s Mat. Honey, please unlock the door.”
Her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side—Shit—then her hand fumbled at the door—come on baby, that’s it. Just pull up the little knob—at last. Pulling the door open, I dragged her into my arms, my ass hitting the asphalt between our two vehicles.
“Hey, sweetness.” I took in her red, tear-streaked face, snot dripping from her nose. A sob broke loose. “Sshhh… I got you.” Feeling powerless, I sat on the pavement rocking her in my lap while she cried, until all she had left were shuddering hiccups. The whole time I wondered whose ass I was kicking tonight. She finally stirred, and I one armed my shirt over my head and used it to wipe her face. She started squirming when she realized she was getting us both snotty.
“Be still. Blow.” I held my shirt to her nose and waited, letting her see that I’d wait all day if necessary. I snorted, giving her a disapproving look when she gave a half-hearted attempt that did a whole lot of nothing. “You can do better than that.” Then she did with obvious embarrassment.
“You know, I was at the gym when you called.” I said, casually. “And I just wiped sweat all over your face.” Priceless. Her shocked expression was priceless. Being an only child, I didn't think she'd ever been subjected to this sort of gross bodily humor.
“Are you telling me this so I won’t feel bad about covering you in mucus?”
“Mucus? Oh, you mean snot. No, I plan on using that later to guilt perverse sex acts out of you for my pleasure and entertainment. Okay babe, up we go.” Uncoiling, I pulled her up with me, and settled us comfortably in the back seat of my Lexus, ready for some answers. “Spill.”
“My folks are getting a divorce, and it seems I was the only one unaware that my mom’s a cougar. Can you believe my dad asked my boss to serve the divorce papers? Which he did, catching my mom in flagrante delicto at the spa.” It all came out in a torrent. Something I noticed she did when she had to discuss things she found unpleasant.
She gaped, abruptly silent. Maybe it was my lack of surprise that gave me away. “No way, you just met her. How could you possibly know?” She crossed her arms and flung herself back with a huff. “This is so not fair.” If this weren’t so fucked up, her outrage would’ve been adorable.
“Well, her hitting on me sort of clued me in.” The color drain from her face—shit, that probably wasn’t what she needed to hear right now. “So babe, was that it, or is there more?”
“Was that it? Was that it? My God, isn’t that enough? I’m going to have to move away, change my identity, find a new job. Oh, and there’ll be no fucking against my door. My dad’s moved in with me.” She must be feeling better. I guess pissed off sarcasm is better than crying. “Shit, I promised to find some muscle to help pack up the garage today before Mom started chucking his tools.”
“No worries, I’ve got the muscle covered and I’m sure there are plenty of doors we can fuck against. We just need to make sure they’re solid, none of that hollow core shit.” I said, pulling out my phone. It was fun getting her flustered. “We’ll drop off your car—you okay to drive?” she nodded, “—grab your dad and I’ll have a crew meet us at your folks house.” Snugging her under my chin, I began calling in favors.
“I’d appreciate you not mentioning this little episode to my dad. I don’t want him having a stroke,” she said after I pulled up behind her. I wondered what he’d make of me: Covered in tats showing up wearing only basketball shorts and kicks. Damn, I should’ve changed.
She gave me a nervous smile before opening the door. “Hey Daddy, I brought someone home to meet you.” She hugged a mild looking man of medium build with short curly hair that was more salt than pepper. He was someone easily over looked if not for his eyes. Though his were somewhat faded from age, they shared the same expressive eyes, showing every passing thought if you knew how to read them. Startled, intensely curious, he openly studied me with a surprising lack of judgment.
“You must be Mat. Angie’s told me some very good things about you,” he said, extending his hand.
“Yeah? Don’t believe her. I’m rotten to the core. She’s just really gullible.”
“I’m Isadore, but everyone calls me Jack.” He paused, when he took in Angie’s face, his jaw tightened. It was obvious she'd been crying. Shit, I hoped the old man didn’t jump to the wrong conclusion. He looked back at me. I gave a slight shake of my head. He nodded. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Actually, some water would be great; I was at the gym when Angie called me. Believe me, normally I wouldn’t show up dressed like this.”
“Not to worry. If I’d ever looked like you, I’d have run around half naked every chance I got.”
“Daddy!” Thank God, he’s cool. After meeting Stephanie, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
“I arranged for some folks to help collect your gear. They’re going to meet us at your house, so you might want to call ahead if there’s a gate keeper.”
“About that, there’s been a slight glitch. I can’t get the storage container until the weekend.”
“How much stuff are we talking about?”
“A lot of tools, a sofa, a couple work benches.”
“I can handle that. We can stash it in my building.”
“Your landlord won’t mind?”
“I am the landlord. It’s good to be the king.” I grinned, shooting off a corny Mel Brooks line.
It wasn’t surprising that Daddy and Mat hit it off right away; Mat charmed everyone—well, everyone but Mom, apparently—I still had trouble b
elieving she’d hit on him. I was with him the whole time; wouldn’t I have noticed something like that? The only time they interacted was at the party and the bar. When he dismissed her at the party, I thought it was because of Mom’s grease-monkey crack. Did I miss something? Well if I did, I didn't really want to know. So I was a coward.
A U-Haul and a crowd were waiting outside my childhood home. “Hey guys, thanks for coming,” Mat called out, passing out one armed, chest bumping guy hugs and I braced for the inevitable hug-fest as Mat called them, when I saw his folks, Brett and Danny.
“Daddy these are Mat’s folks, Carmen and Stewart James; his sister, Danny; and her boyfriend, Brett.” I looked around, a little overwhelmed. All it took was a couple of phone calls and an army of helpers had shown up with a truck and boxes. “I haven’t met the rest of Mat’s friends yet.”
Daddy shook hands with Carmen and Stewart before nodding to the others. “I can’t thank you enough for the help. I just wish we could’ve met under happier circumstances.”
“Okay, let’s get started,” Mat said, taking charge. While the guys got busy with the garage, Carmen suggested we ladies pack up the rest of Daddy’s clothes. Before disappearing into the house, she reminded him to retrieve any important documents and personal mementos he might want.
“You okay, mija?” Carmen asked from inside Daddy’s closet.
“Yeah, it’s just so unexpected. I think I’m bothered more by how everything’s playing out rather than the divorce itself,” I said, moving on from Daddy’s underwear to his PJs.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they’ve been unhappy for a while… my whole life really. I guess I figured since they’d put up with each other this long, they’d just continue, and I can’t help feeling like I was the one who tossed out the last straw. That all this is my fault.”
“So it’s your fault your mom ran around on your dad?” Danny snorted at me. Well shit, even she knew. I should just turn in my MENSA card now, because they’d obviously made a mistake.
The Science of Loving Page 17