Love Me Love Me Knot

by Deb Lee

~ ~ ~

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Sophie jerked awake then groaned, squeezing her temples. Why was someone jackhammering her head?

  Thud, thud, thud. “Sophie? You in there?”

  Oh, not a jackhammer. An Amy.

  Sophie slowly sat up, scanning her surroundings. Her eyes stung, her throat was on fire, and her shoulders throbbed. She cringed, Aftermath pains. She forgot how terrible they were.

  Thud, thud, thud. “Sophie! Let me in!”

  Her lips came apart with a sticky pop. “Hold on!”

  First order of business: find water.

  Sophie sighed heavily. What had she done? Had this been one of her girls, she would have been sorely disappointed. And Charlie . . . oh God, she couldn’t think about Charlie. She’d be so disappointed.

  Fingers drummed against the door. “Hey, Sophie. Wakey, wakey. Time to get ready for the cocktail party.”

  “I’m up. I’m up. I’m coming.”

  Sophie’s legs hit the floor like anchors. Standing sent her head spinning. She grabbed the bottle of water. It burned going down, but quenched the fire at the same time. Each step toward the door was a little easier than the one before.

  Sophie cracked the door.

  Amy barged in, smelling like coconut and hot Pacific Ocean. She still wore her ladybug-patterned bikini beneath a sheer swimsuit cover. For a petite girl, she had abs of steal. “Oh my gosh, you have to try these.” Amy shoved a greasy paper bag filled with soggy peanuts in her face.

  Sophie nearly fell into the tiny bathroom . . . or dove. Anything to get away from the reeking nuts. She batted the bag away. “Those are disgusting.”

  Amy looked Sophie up and down, her golden hair taller than usual, probably from all the sunrays. “Suit yourself. Boiled peanuts are amazing.”

  “They smell like death.”

  “Speaking of which”—Amy wrinkled her nose and plopped herself on the unmade bed—“what’s that smell?”

  Sophie closed the bathroom door, hoping Amy’s sense of smell wouldn’t lead her to contemplate any past, ritualistic behaviors. “It’s your nuts.”

  “No, it smells like hot mildew.”

  Sophie pulled her matted hair into a messy ponytail. “No clue. I don’t smell anything.”

  “That’s because you’re bathing in it. I hope you plan on taking a shower before tonight. Where have you been anyway?”

  Sophie’s heart sped up. “Just here. I took a nap.”

  “Oh, really? How’d your day go?” Amy raised her eyebrow.

  Sophie swallowed hard. “Fine.”

  “Don’t use the F-word with me,” Amy said. “I’m not a dude, I’m your best friend. Now spill it or I’m going to start chucking nuts at you.” Amy grabbed the TV remote and flipped through channels, landing on a Nicholas Sparks flick.

  Sophie pushed off the wall and dropped into the chair. She was not ready to discuss this right now. Not after just spewing all over the toilet bowl. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Amy narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you do. You were with Ryan all day. Why are you hiding in here, while he’s out roaming the Lido Deck sparking up conversations with our peeps.”

  Sophie jerked her head toward Amy too quickly; things got fuzzy for a second. “Really? What did he say?” Did he tell her about the kayak? How she’d acted like a fool? How she completely lost it over Deidre?

  The voices of people laughing hysterically came from the hallway outside her door.

  Amy pealed a boiled nut and threw it in the air before catching it in her mouth. Sophie wanted to gag for her. “He didn’t say anything to me. I was working. Well, actually I was pretending to work, but really I was watching him. And the gossip queens in case they got any swanky ideas about putting their hands near him.”

  Terri and Lori—gossip girls and office flirts. Sophie grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the desk and swallowed a couple. Her throat still burned. “I’m sure he was. Probably work stuff.”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine he was working the way he was laughing and carrying on.”

  “Why, what did he say?” He wasn’t telling everyone about her dip in the ocean, was he? He wouldn’t. He’d seemed so concerned. So nice. But he’d spilled her secrets before. Page seventy-four. Sophie wanted to die.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him.” The start of a smile tipped at the corners of her mouth. “But Donovan listened in on his conversations with some of the others. You should ask him.” Her smile grew a devious mustache, to which Sophie pictured Amy’s fingers twisting at the ends. “He seems to think Ryan is promoting in the company. Possibly even transferring here.”

  Sophie made a disapproving face. “Wait, what? No. Impossible. What makes him think that?”

  Amy peeled another peanut and Sophie wanted to gag. “Would that be so bad? Donovan’s our first line of defense. He seemed to like the guy. And if he gets a pass from our very own fashion diva, he’s good with me.”

  Donovan had warned Sophie that Asher was a scuzz from the bottom of the barrel. She wished she’d had listened to his warning then. She narrowed her eyes at Amy, realizing she was clinging a little too tightly to her words. What did it matter who he was talking to or about what? Unless, he was still laughing at her. “Never mind, it doesn’t even matter.”

  “What doesn’t matter?” Amy muted the movie as Ryan Gosling hung from a Ferris wheel in an attempt to get Rachel McAdams’ attention. She swung her legs off the bed and sat up. “How are you doing with him here? Is he driving you a little . . . wild?”

  “Oh, please.”

  “People only say ‘oh, please’ when they don’t have a real argument.”

  Did it just jump ten degrees in here? “No, they don’t. If Ryan’s promoting to the Bay Area, I’m saying someone should consider Red and his feelings. You know Red’s my couch potato.”

  “Your what?”

  “My couch potato,” Sophie said. “My comfort zone.”

  “Oh, yeah, everyone knows that.”

  Sophie chewed her thumbnail but only bit skin. She had chewed that one off earlier. She switched to her other thumbnail and gnawed on it for a moment. If Ryan promoted here, she’d have to leave. End of story. “Ryan can’t come here. We would know. Secrets and media are like wine and chocolate. You can’t have one without the other.”

  “I’m not so sure. The way Donovan was talking, it sounds like Ryan was asking a lot of questions.”

  The room was now sweltering. There was no way Ryan would relocate to Up Front. The stacked boxes in Red’s office didn’t mean anything. Sophie assumed Donovan had stopped by his office threatening another extreme office makeover: editor in chief edition. Red would absolutely tell her if he planned on leaving. Wouldn’t he? Before she started spending six nights a week at Chicks ’n’ Slicks her Friday nights were spent with Red at Muy Caliente where they’d share a plate of jerk chicken nachos and a pitcher of beer. They were close.

  Of course he would tell her, Sophie resolved. They were a family. She would know if something were askew. Everyone at Up Front played a necessary role. Even Ash-hat’s job as antagonist jerk turned problem child had its place. And Red was her couch potato, dang it!

  Besides, Sophie thought, swallowing dryly, it took all of one afternoon with Ryan for her to succumb to her illness. A part of her life she was certain she’d nipped in the bud. If he joined the Up Front team, who knows what that would mean?

  Sophie tucked her hair behind her ears. “He’s here for field training. Nothing more. I’m certain. Red would have said something otherwise.”

  When Sophie’s eyes cut to Amy’s, her friend gave her a sidelong gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe Red doesn’t know. It’s not like he’s here, if you didn’t notice. And he was the one who said this was mandatory.
”

  “I did notice. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Okay, forget I said anything.” Amy curled a few strands of hair around her finger and eyed Sophie. “So, what did you do all day?” A sly smile crept over her face. “With Ryan.”

  Sophie’s stomach swooped. “I didn’t do much. Not really.”

  “Liar.”

  Sophie scowled at her friend. “Hey! Whose team are you on?”

  “Just tell me what you need. If you want me to be the icy friend who henceforth shuns him, I will. But if you want me to be a voice of reason and give you permission to kiss him . . . there’s that too.”

  A bit of heat swelled on Sophie’s face. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

  “Because I haven’t seen you this worked up over something since I found you four years ago with your finger down your throat and you couldn’t even say over what.”

  Sophie shook the ugly memory. She stood, and stared at her reflection. She’d failed today. In more areas than she cared to rehash. But the girls still needed her. They needed the café. She wasn’t giving up on the scavenger hunt that easily.

  Amy bumped Sophie’s hip, shoving her way into the cramped mirror space. She picked at her tower-high hair. “Oh my God, is that a gray hair?”

  “Probably, want me to pluck it?”

  Sophie could have been running a dog-fighting ring and wouldn’t have received a meaner glare. “No, you may not,” Amy exclaimed. “Don’t you know if you pluck one, ten more grow in its place? Or has Donovan not had that conversation with you?”

  “Apparently not. But I’m not the one with gray hair.”

  Amy scoffed. “We are not talking about this. We are talking about you and why you’re being so defensive about Ryan.”

  Sophie sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe he seems normal now. But you never read what he wrote about me. Then again, you don’t become the top-rated journalist at one of the biggest magazines by being a jerk.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly how you become the top-rated journalist at one of the biggest magazines.”

  Sophie flinched. Same team. Amy is on the same team, she reminded herself. Amy was the best sort of friend. She’d play devil’s advocate and let Sophie work out her feelings.

  Amy must have read Sophie’s face. “I’m not necessarily saying he’s a jerk,” she said softly. “Did you ever ask him about it?”

  Sophie’s bare toes clawed at the carpet and she shook her head.

  “All I’m saying is guys change. And you have a lot to offer. You’re not the same girl you were ten years ago. And he can’t be the same guy. But I can say at least this guy doesn’t have you hiding in the back of Sergio’s picking at pizza while you mark him for a hit.”

  No, he just has me purging. “True. We had an interesting day. Let’s just say that.”

  “Did you at least enjoy yourself?”

  She felt herself flush with a sudden fluttering in her chest. She smiled, recalling how his fingers felt against her skin when he held her hand. “Mostly, yeah.”

  “Then why are you alone in your room like a reclusive hermit? I figured you two might be back together or something. Guys like that grow into men. Seriously, Soph. Guys like Ryan last. I don’t see a flaw in his chiseled, handsome face. And trust me, I’m looking.”

  Sophie stared at the picture above her bed of a sinking ship about to be swallowed up by a huge wave. Why did she feel like that ship? Or they laugh at you when you’re already humiliated.

  “Give him a chance, Soph.” Amy used her best-friend-telepathy thing to tell her exactly what she needed to hear. “I promise you I’ll throw him overboard if you need me to. I’m team Sophie all the way. But maybe he can help secure financing from Over the Top for the café. I’m sure he knows people.”

  “No thanks.” Sophie swallowed hard, grateful the burn was nearly gone. “I don’t need him to rescue Chicks ’n’ Slicks.”

  “Okay,” Amy said, not pushing the idea. “So then, back to winning the scavenger hunt. What’d you come up with today?”

  “Ugh,” Sophie mumbled. “This.” She picked up the evil T-shirt from the desk and tossed it at Amy.

  Amy held it up, eyeing Sophie. “So, is there a story here?”

  “Not one I’m willing to share without a bottle of red.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse.”

  “Bummer.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Well, cheer up!” Amy said, tossing the shirt on the floor by the bathroom. “It’s cocktail party night and that means open bar and now that you’re a single lady, it also means you can flirt with Ryan and blame it on the alcohol.”

  Sophie tossed her head back. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? Besides, I can’t. I’ve got to find some easy sucker points!”

  “The scavenger hunt list?”

  “Yep,” Sophie said, popping the P. “I’m sure I can find most of what’s on the list at our party. Tonight’s loot includes a drink umbrella, cocktail napkin with bartender’s signature, a book of matches, salt and pepper shakers, and the drink of the day menu.”

  “I will be stationed at the bar with a straw permanently situated in a bottomless glass of fruity libations, so I can get the umbrella and the menu for you.”

  “How generous of you.”

  Amy stepped into Sophie’s bubble and cupped her face in her coconut-lavender-scented palms. “You can do this. I have every confidence in you. You’re a scrapper.”

  “Thanks, bestie.”

  “What are you wearing tonight? I want to coordinate.” Amy headed for the door.

  Pep talk over. Well, good, at least The Hair settled. “Probably just a casual dress and cardigan. I need to be nimble and free to roam comfortably.”

  Amy paused at the door.

  “Soph, try to relax and have a good time.”

  Sophie sighed heavily.

  “Trust me,” Amy said. “You want to know what I think?”

  “Not really.” Sophie smirked. “But I’m sure you’re going to fill me in.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I think you’re letting something that happened ten years ago speak for you now.”

  Sophie picked at her fingernails. “Please don’t diagnose me, Freudette.”

  “I think you’re scared.”

  Sophie shook her head. “Not scared. Determined.”

  Amy stepped across the threshold, doorknob in hand. “At least slow down long enough to have a drink with me. You need to relax.” She smiled. “Meanwhile, I need to go tame this hair.”

  “Yeah, you may want to look into that gray one.”

  Amy stuck out her tongue and closed the door.

  Sophie locked the door behind her friend and stepped into the cramped bathroom. A combination of bleach and bile wafted in the air. She twisted her lips, her stomach heaving again. No. No more of that.

  Ignoring the toilet, she turned on the shower and freed her hair from its messy ponytail. She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the corner of the tiny bathroom. The souvenir shirt was wadded up outside the door, mocking her. That shirt would likely get a watery grave sometime tonight.

  A knock on the room door startled Sophie. She wrapped a towel around her, assuming it was probably just Amy with more hair-brained advice.

  “Hold on,” she said, hugging the towel tighter. Stubbing her pinky toe on the edge of the bathroom doorframe, she stumbled the last foot or so and fell into the door. Ficus. She unlocked the door and opened it enough to poke her head though. “Oh, it’s you.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Nice to see you too,” Asher said, fully decked out in a tuxedo with an oversized bowtie. He looked uncannily like a circus penguin. His chest puffed out as if he were a blowfish ready
to blow. Or maybe he resembled a peacock spreading his elongated tail feathers. Although, that would be the only elongated thing about him. He held up a cruise napkin that not only had the ship’s charismatic logo on it, but . . .

  “Is that who I think it is?”

  “The one and only. And let me tell you, the man stays in character the whole time.”

  “How did you get a signature from Johnny Depp?”

  Asher leaned against the doorframe a little too comfortably. “Fun fact.” He gloated, his teeth sporting a whitening strip. “The role of Jack Sparrow from the first Pirates movie originally belonged to Antonio Banderas. I know this because we spent the afternoon in a hole-in-the-wall joint that had margaritas the size of basketballs. He’s filming something new around here.”

  Sophie sucked in what little oxygen she could find. Asher managed to take all of that away from her, too. “What do you want, Asher?”

  “Just showing you what I’ll be turning in for today’s hunt.”

  Sophie thought of the pathetic treasure she achieved and what it took to get it. No points offered for effort.

  “I mean, what were the odds that reading one tweet from Johnny would change my game?”

  Of course Asher followed actors on social media. That was his editorial job.

  “One call to a friend who works with a producer at Bruckheimer, and, bam, I had his location.”

  “That’s called stalking.” Sophie snuffed a flame of jealousy that burned in her chest. Why couldn’t she think of something so brilliant? Why did he have to be so good at these games?

  “No.” He winked. “It’s called winning.”

  “Good for you, She-Ra.” Sophie pumped her arm in a hoorah gesture. It was a petty gesture, but he was a petty man, so there you go.

  Asher tried to peek his head through the tiny door opening. “What did you find today?”

  “Bye, Asher.” She slammed the door in his face, but he caught it with his foot.

  He grinned at her devilishly through the foot-wide crack. “Did you happen to see anything of interest trending on YouTube today?”