Some Call It Love

by Sarah Peis

  My head whipped around, and my sour expression turned into a huge smile. “Maisie!” I yelled and threw myself into her arms. “I thought we were meeting at the bar?”

  We stood in a half embrace, and I looked her up and down to make sure the English hadn’t stolen any of her limbs and stopped when I spotted her newest wardrobe addition. “I’m so going to borrow those shoes.”

  She winked at me. “If you’re lucky.”

  I turned us around in the direction of the office and tugged her along with me. “I want to hear everything. Let’s go to the office so there is no chance of any Neanderthals listening in.”

  My statement was met with a chorus of grunts and shouts. Neanderthal theory proven.

  We escaped into the cool confines of my office, and Maisie looked around with interest. “Nice office.” She walked behind my desk and pushed my desk chair out to sit down.

  “No, don’t sit—”

  I was cut off by a loud squeak. Instead of sitting down, Maisie was sprawled on the floor, the chair pushed up against the wall. I rushed over to her and helped her get up. “Shit, are you hurt? I need to get the chair fixed. Two of the wheels broke off, and now it’s a little unbalanced.”

  “How the hell do you break two wheels off?”

  “Easy. Landon wouldn’t leave the office and made himself at home in my chair. I pushed him out the door and the wheels got caught along the way and broke off.” Maisie looked at me with doubt, and I threw up my hands. “He’s heavier than he looks.”

  “Okay, spill it. Since when are you working at Drake’s Garage and what the hell happened while I was gone?”

  “Why don’t we sit down for this conversation? Do you want coffee?” I dragged Maisie over to the couch and pushed her down. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

  My beloved coffee machine didn’t settle my nerves as it usually did. The promise of caffeinated goodness was not enough to help me grow some balls and own up to all that had happened during the summer. Surely there was no need to tell her absolutely everything.

  The familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee accompanied me on the way back to the office. Maisie was still where I left her, except she was sitting up straight, not hanging off to the side because some lunatic pushed her onto the couch.

  “One sugar and a dash of caramel creamer. Clay ate all the cookies, and you probably guessed that there are definitely no cupcakes left.”

  Maisie laughed, throwing her head back, shaking her long locks. She didn’t do things halfway, and she laughed often and loudly. It was infectious, and Stella and I were usually right there with her. Unless she laughed at the absence of cupcakes. One should never joke or laugh about missing cupcakes, hence why I cut her a stern look.

  “So, how was London?” I asked.

  Judging by the spark in Maisie’s eyes, she wouldn’t let me get away with my diversion tactics for long. “It was amazing. Saint Martins is an amazing fashion school. I had a class with Professor Wilson. She taught McQueen and Giles Deacon, can you believe it?”

  As a matter of fact, I could, because I had no idea who any of those people were. “Does that mean you can make me my very own line now? And call it The Willa?”

  “I didn’t go over there to study architecture.” Maisie was a bit touchy when it came to her fashion obsession. Stella and I had to walk over nails many times to get her to forgive us for teasing her.

  “All I’m saying is to remember your friends when you’re rich and famous. The best way would be to name one of your lines after them, and invite us to your shows. Is that too much to ask?”

  Maisie flipped me off, and I knew all was well again. “Of course you’ll be invited. And I’ll name my creations after you if you name your firstborn after me.”

  “Huh. Let’s not be hasty.”

  “Enough about London. I want to know what’s going on with you.”

  And I did tell her most parts, but I skimmed over the bits that included Jameson. And the part where I got arrested.

  Now Maisie was staring at me and not in a good way. Not that there ever was a good way to stare at someone, but her way was disturbing. Eyes wide, mouth opening and closing, about to say something but then stopping herself.

  “Do you need water? More coffee? Defibrillator?” I asked, ever the helpful friend.

  I leaned over to touch her forehead. When I made a move to pinch her cheek, she intercepted my hand and swatted me away. “Still processing. That was some summer. Is your dad okay?”

  “I spoke to the hospital this morning, and they want to keep him for a few days. Des brought him his clothes and checked up on him. Dad doesn’t really want to talk to me right now.” I lowered my head, and Maisie squeezed my hand.

  “I can’t believe you got arrested.”

  I covered my face with my hands and groaned loudly. “Don’t remind me.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Landon came in. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but we need Willa to go through the orders with us. We don’t want to end up with two left doors.”

  Jackass. You screw up once and they hold it over your head forever. And the headlight was totally Mason’s fault. His writing was terrible and the number two looked like a three.

  I checked my watch and noticed it was almost four. If we didn’t get our orders in we wouldn’t receive them the next day. “Shit, sorry, I’ll come out now.” I turned back to Maisie. “Give me ten minutes, and we can head over to Sparkie’s.”

  “Can I come with you? I still can’t believe you actually work here.”

  I was about to tell her no when Landon offered Maisie his arm with an obvious sweep of her body. “Of course you can, pretty lady. Shall we?”

  I knocked my elbow into his side when I passed him and gave him my best angry Willa look, but since Landon was almost as big as Jameson, he didn’t even flinch. And he flat-out ignored my crazy eyes.

  I went out to the workshop, trying my hardest to ignore his flirting but couldn’t help but make a gagging noise.

  He retaliated by flicking my ear and went right back to his wooing. I had already started the orders earlier, so there wasn’t much left.

  Landon hadn’t come up for air and talked nonstop as he walked Maisie out to the garage floor. I wasn’t overly concerned since I knew he was as far from her type as he could get. She liked her men older, dressed in stuffy suits, and with a raised pinkie while they sipped on their overprized whiskey.

  The guys gave me the rest of their order, and I went to save Maisie from getting her leg humped.

  “Maisie, I’m all done here. Let’s go back to the office so I can place the orders and we can go.”

  She waved me off and continued to give her big eyed, “I’m so innocent” look to Landon. Oh puuuhlease. I’d seen her blink her big brown eyes many a time. It was her best feature, as she liked to tell me often. I was getting annoyed. There was no need for her to lead him on only to drop him five seconds later.

  I’d come to care for everyone here, and as much as I loved my best friend, I knew how she worked all too well.

  “Maisie, come on.” I gave her my best “let’s go now or I’ll slap you in your vajayjay” look, but she just ignored me.

  An arm around my shoulders distracted me and halted Maisie’s nonsensical dialogue faster than any of my feeble attempts.

  “There you are. I missed you,” a voice whispered in my ear.

  I looked at Maisie who observed me with keen interest, and like the jerk I was, I stepped out of Jameson’s reach, not acknowledging his greeting.

  And then I made it worse by treating him like my boss, which technically he was. “Mr. Drake, do you have anything to add to the order?”

  The guys gave me puzzled looks but otherwise stayed silent, which should have been the first indication of how badly I’d just screwed up. They never shut up. Never. I’d finally done the impossible and stunned them speechless.

  I looked up and met Jameson’s eyes but instantly wished I hadn’t. The hurt passing ove
r his features made me feel like a slimy slug dick. For lack of another option, I barged on, unable to undo what I had already broken. “Have you met my friend, Maisie? Maisie, meet my boss, Mr. Drake.”

  Jameson’s face showed disbelief that quickly morphed into anger, but I barged on like the bulldozer in a rose garden that I was. “We were just on our way out. See you tomorrow.”

  I snatched Maisie’s arm and guided her back to the office, unable to meet Jameson’s eyes or do more than wave a moronic goodbye at him. I was an idiot. An idiot who didn’t want her friend to find out what she’d really been up to over the summer. Because Jameson had a reputation, and Maisie would not be happy about me becoming another notch on his bedpost.

  “Don’t think you’ll get away with ignoring what just happened,” Maisie whispered next to me.

  “Later,” I said, voice low to avoid making things worse.

  Later turned out to be only thirty minutes, much to my horror. Stella met us at the bar, and Maisie wasted no time filling her in. “Willa had a busy summer. And she can’t wait to tell us all about it.”

  I glared at Maisie. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t really angry at her. She and Stella were my best friends. I would normally share every detail with them, but I had stuffed things up majorly. I shouldn’t have been a coward and pretended Jameson and I weren’t together in front of Maisie. God, I was an idiot, but I panicked. It was like my brain decided to be a fuckstick and make stupid decisions.

  I took a deep breath. Still not ready, I took long drink of beer. The alcohol gave me the necessary courage, and I looked up, ready to face the Humptulips inquisition. No more stalling. “So I might have gotten close to Jameson this summer.”

  “You mean you got horizontal with Jameson this summer. And by the looks of it, that didn’t just happen once,” Maisie said. “He put his arm around you and whispered something in your ear. In front of everyone. You should have seen it, Stella. It was like the second coming of Christ.”

  She leaned closer to Stella and fake whispered, “They definitely got it on while we were gone.”

  They both inhaled loudly only to proceed to make a big O with their mouths. Bitches.

  “Scandalous,” Stella said. “Jameson doesn’t do public anything, except stand there like a Greek statue.” She seemed to mull it over. “Unless he’s wasted. Because there was this one time at Maisie’s party, and I remember him being lip locked with Regina—”

  I put my hands up and yelled, “Stop it. I don’t want to hear it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I was there.”

  And how could I forget that night. It was the night I fell into the pool. Now that might sound like a regular party occurrence, but it was winter and nipple-freezing cold. And the party was inside. I fell in because I was too busy spying on Jameson making out with Regina. I sidestepped and my foot met air after he met my eyes. Looked straight at me while Regina was making her way down his body. I panicked and forgot I was standing next to the pool.

  Both Maisie and Stella started snickering with their hands held in front of their faces. As if that would stop the sounds from reaching me. They definitely remembered the incident. The only saving grace was my drowned state, which meant nobody recognized me straight away. Thankfully he was gone by the time I emerged from the bathroom dressed in Maisie’s too tight clothes and more than a little humiliated.

  “Which brings us to your tale of hot men,” Maisie said.

  I groaned and took another fortifying drink of my beer. “Well, you both already know that I work for him. And he’s a pretty decent boss.”

  “And?” Stella probed.

  “And he helped me pick Dad up from Vegas.”

  Both their faces snapped to attention. “He did what?” Maisie asked.

  Stella leaned closer, putting her hand on my arm. “Be honest. Did you drug him?”

  I pulled my arm back and narrowed my eyes. “I would never do that. He insisted on coming along. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

  They both nodded like I had just found the answer to removing wine stains without scrubbing. I felt like it was necessary to elaborate. “We are friends. We hang out after work. He was there for me when Dad had his heart attack.”

  More nodding.

  “He’s actually a pretty decent guy. And his family is lovely. Not like—”

  “Whoa, hang on there, skippy,” Stella said, both hands in the air, palms facing my way. “Did you just say you met his family?”

  “Well, his brother works with him, so since I work there too and he went to our school, I already knew him. Technically I only met his mom.”

  “This is huge.”

  “Gigantic.”

  I didn’t think of it that way before, but I did now. It must have meant something, surely. Because it’s not every day you bring someone home. I was such an idiot.

  “Shit. I totally screwed up.”

  “You sure did,” Maisie said, ever so helpful.

  She turned to Stella to fill her in on my screwup. “Our ignorant little friend here managed to turn a beautiful meeting of two soul mates into a bloodbath of love. You should have seen his face. It was heartbreaking.”

  Someone liked to lay it on thick. And they thought I was a drama queen.

  “I pretended we weren’t together because I didn’t want you to judge me.” That one was meant for Maisie who had made more than one scathing comment on Jameson and his long list of conquests. “And before you try to deny it, we all know how cutting your remarks can be, Maisie. Your opinion matters to me, and I wasn’t sure how Jameson felt about everything. No need for a public service announcement when he was planning on dumping me by the end of the week anyway.”

  “Never seemed to have been his intention,” Stella said.

  Another long sip of my beer was in order. I had screwed up. “We know that now, not that it matters anymore. He looked hurt and incredibly angry.” And I wasn’t sure how forgiving he would be.

  “He sure did,” Maisie said. Not very encouraging, but at least she was honest.

  “I think the only thing to do is to drown our sorrows and pray it will take out enough brain cells so I won’t remember how badly I screwed up,” I said.

  “You should at least text him and say sorry,” Stella said.

  “Or send him a pic of your boobs.” Maisie said, always helpful. “Your boobs are epic. All big and perky. Usually you get one or the other, but you won the boob lottery.”

  “I better give him some time to cool down first.” Like a year or two.

  They both knew I’d reached my limit, and because we had been best friends for ages, both my girls dropped the topic and moved on to tales of London and Stella’s family’s farm. I loved them. They were the bestest friends a girl could have.

  I had the worst friends. My drunkenness last night hit unprecedented levels. I was too messy to be allowed in public, but they kept supplying me with drinks and encouraging words.

  If I had great friends, they would have taken me home after I suggested doing a conga line through the Donut Hole, leaving a trail of ketchup and mustard in our wake. Instead, they joined in. Filthy traitors. And the worst part: they didn’t even once think to take my phone away. What sort of friends wouldn’t stop their nearest and dearest from texting whilst under the influence of one too many margaritas? Traitors. That’s who.

  Even though my texting was usually more a hit and miss of letters while drunk, I still somehow managed to get the messages out to the big wide world last night.

  I woke up this morning with the mother of all hangovers and a serious case of texting regret. I stared at the trail of text messages from last night in horror. I prayed that Jameson hadn’t read them. Maybe they got lost along the way. Sometimes messages didn’t send. It happened all the time.

  I scrolled back to the first text.

  Me: I love

  Me: cupcakes

  Me: I love cupcakes

  Me: There’s a direct causal link between m
y boob size and my fetish for cupcakes

  Me: Stella tried giving me a Chinese burn. Turned into a Tongan burn

  Me: Accidently typed Tongan tornado into Urban dictionary. I need to wash my eyes out with acid. Or margarita.

  Me: Urban dictionary needs to list Tongan burn

  Me: Tongan burn… your burn doesn’t even touch the roof of the farm house

  Me: I like big butts and I cannot lie they didn’t accept my entry. Lame Dictionary

  Me: That’s meant to say I like big butts and I cannot lie

  Me: NO ducking phone, I like big butts and I cannot lie

  Me: Tell Landon to write his obituararary.

  Me: After filixing my prune.

  Me: I have three boobs.

  Me: Long livet the cupacaaaaaake.

  He hadn’t replied to any of my texts, and I doubted he would. Because who in their right mind would? They didn’t make any sense.

  My alarm went off again, telling me I was once again running late. Sorry, Rayna.

  I took a shower, because nobody would appreciate eau de brewery, and ten minutes later I was on my way.

  Since I had no car or bike, I had to take the bus. It took longer than anticipated, and I forgot to bring change. Apparently anything larger than a ten-dollar bill was unacceptable. I finally convinced the bus driver to take my money and keep the change. There went my food budget for the next two days.

  After I missed my stop and had to walk the two miles back, I finally dragged my half-dead carcass into the bakery and slumped against the bench.

  “What the hell happened to you? Did you miss out on Justin Bieber tickets again?” Rayna greeted me, already elbow deep in dough.

  “Long night.”

  She winked at me. “Jameson must have some stamina.”

  I flinched like she had slapped me at her mention of Jameson. The flinch was too obvious, and she stopped kneading and turned all her attention to me. “Willa.” One word and I was ashamed to admit I burst into tears. “Oh no, what happened? Come and rest your puddleface on your auntie’s big chest.”

  I had to admit her boobs were right up there on the comfortable scale. Guess our family had good genes. I gladly accepted her invite and fell into her open arms. She held me tight and rubbed my back. Luckily, I had no aversion to dough. My back was sure to be covered in it.