Because I Said So

by Karin Kallmaker

  “It’s okay. It was an accident,” Lamont added tersely as she pushed bracelets onto her arm. “I trust you and I’m sure your girlfriend is trustworthy too.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Lamont paused in looking through her handbag. “Really?”

  Not sure why it mattered so much to set the record straight, Kesa rushed on. “We had a thing, but we’re not even dating. We blew it the first time around.”

  Lamont was quickly brushing out her hair. “That was a lot of ‘I’m sorry’ for not even dating.”

  “There’s no point in repeating history.” Shut up, Kesa shouted in her head. Jennifer Lamont does not want to know your drama. As if the woman had nothing better to listen to, especially after a stranger got an eyeful of her in her undies. “I’m really sorry about the door.”

  “I know a little about history,” Lamont said as if Kesa hadn’t spoken. Her expression turned pensive as she slipped her glittering rose diamond and sapphire wedding ring back onto her finger. “As we say in the business, when the past gets too messy, reboot it. The past is still there. It’s still real and that story is still true. But your life doesn’t have to be anchored to it anymore. You’re free to write new history going forward.”

  Kesa swallowed and managed to say, “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

  “Promise me one thing at a minimum, though.”

  “Okay,” Kesa agreed, unsettled by the amused mischief in Lamont’s eyes.

  “Get that lock fixed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  What else was there to do but run, and run fast? Shannon had backed out of her parking space and turned out onto the street before she had any thought other than putting as much distance as possible between her and Kesa and a celebrity she should have never seen in her underwear.

  She was running away but where to? Oh dear lord, could it have gone any worse? The letter she’d written was still in her pocket. She’d realized Kesa was there, screwed up all her courage to open the door, and never once told herself maybe Kesa was working. That perhaps dropping in on Kesa’s place of business for personal reasons wasn’t smart.

  She pulled over to the curb to try to decide what to do. Love was supposed to be some kind of lofty, expansive, uplifting experience. It brought out the best in you, helped you be all you can be.

  No, that was the Army.

  “You need to make a plan, soldier,” she told her reflection in the rearview mirror. The sight of her wide, wild eyes nearly set off a bout of hysterical laughter, but she quelled it with the sobering thought that she might have cost Kesa her most famous client. Another crime to put on her list.

  She tapped up Kesa’s email and wrote, “I will never tell another soul about what I saw. It was an accident. If I brag about it that makes me a pervert. I have never aspired to be a pervert and I’m not starting now.” She tapped Send, then groaned. That had sounded really stupid, and besides, there was more she’d meant to say.

  Her second email said, “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m really very sorry. I hope that your client forgives me and doesn’t hold my stupidity against you. The door didn’t seem to be locked, just a little stiff.” She clicked Send and then realized that her email program had helpfully added to the message a list of locksmiths in the area.

  She said a really bad word, could hear Paz in her head shouting, “Language!” and gave up punching out words and fighting autocorrect on her tiny screen. She pressed the microphone button so she could dictate the message. “I’m incredibly sorry. Please can’t we have a beer and talk? I promise sex is off the table, not going to happen even if you begged me. Okay I’m lying, I’d be your sex poodle any time you made that request.”

  She laughed at herself and clicked the microphone off. She deleted the entire draft and started over. “I hate my phone right now. Please let me say I’m sorry in person. I want to say so many other things. I hope you’ll let me. I’m going to get a drink at The Grog and Game. I’ll be there for at least an hour. Maybe more. No motels. Just talk.”

  Sent.

  When she realized the phone had added a helpful map to the bar with nearby motels pinned she nearly threw it out the window.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jennifer Lamont was gone and absolutely pleased with the dress, which was all good. The incident with Shannon was all bad. Kesa felt pummeled and it didn’t help that she was exhausted in every fiber of her body.

  She found that lying prone on the floor cooled her back and helped get it into alignment again. She nearly fell asleep, but the quiet ping of her phone persisted and she made herself sit up.

  By the time she got to Shannon’s second email she was caught between amusement and annoyance. She did need a locksmith, but she was perfectly capable of finding one on her own. The third email made her shake her head. Shannon was offering a drink when all Kesa wanted to do was sleep? She’d sent a map with motels marked on it? What was Shannon thinking? Kesa was only going to a motel if it involved sleeping and breakfast in bed followed by a nap.

  She gazed up at Lamont’s dress, thinking of the hours of labor ahead of her. That should be her focus, as well as the other projects she had deadlines for.

  Looking back at her phone, she couldn’t deny the pull. Shannon had reached out. She’d said she was sorry earlier. Sorry about what exactly, Kesa didn’t know. But it mattered. If she blew this chance, would there ever be another? Would it hurt more to listen than to give up for good? Maybe, finally, Shannon’s actions would make some sense.

  It was hard to get to her feet. The most important thing to do was to text the building manager about the lock. That done, she bolted the window and fiddled with the door lock until the knob finally latched. After pulling the door closed she tested it and it didn’t move.

  The car was pointed toward The Grog and Game before she realized she’d made up her mind. All the stoplights were green and there was very little traffic. That could be an omen a la L.A. Story, she thought. As she turned into the parking lot she could see that there were plenty of spaces open. It was not an omen, she told herself. Monday nights were bound to be slow.

  I will not believe that the universe is doing something magic again. Look where it got us the first time.

  The quirky rhythm of “When I’m Sixty-Four” greeted her as she went inside. She didn’t look for Shannon at first. Instead she took the bartender’s advice about a cream ale and enjoyed a hearty swallow of the cold, sweet brew before looking around. The game tables were half empty, but nearby there was a rousing conflict involving dice, cards, and declarations of “I drink and I know things!” with unison callbacks of “It’s what I do!” She hid a smile in her beer when one guy leaped to his feet and shouted, “I am the Mother of Dragons!”

  Feeling slightly more relaxed than when she’d walked in the door, she decided since Shannon was not in sight, it meant she was upstairs. Promise yourself, she bargained, not to take one look at her and forget what happened four years ago. If she’s sorry, she needs to be damned sorry.

  Of course Shannon was at the same table they’d occupied back then. Kesa drank in the outline of her profile as she fought the familiar mixing of searing memories from the past and all the present uncertainties. The pilsner glass in front of Shannon was nearly empty and she was checking her watch.

  Two other tables were occupied, but otherwise they had the space to themselves. Kesa had taken only a step or two when Shannon caught sight of her. She shot to her feet with a nervous smile. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “Neither was I.” She sat down at the small table and watched Shannon retake her seat.

  Shannon’s gaze hadn’t left her face. “Did it—how was your client? After I left? I’m really very sorry.”

  “The lock is broken. She understood it was an accident.” She had another sip of the ale and told herself to relax. “Thanks for the list of locksmiths.”

  Shannon groaned. “The phone did that. It’s like having some unctuous concierge
always trying to help when really, you just want it to go away. The map—same thing. I meant what I said.”

  Kesa lifted an eyebrow because it was a bit satisfying to see Shannon squirm.

  “Anyway, I’m glad Jen—the client was okay. That’s a relief.” Shannon picked up her empty glass, frowned at it, and set it down again. “I’m really hungry. I skipped dinner. How about you?”

  “I think I had lunch. I’m not sure.”

  “I smell something chickeny and fried. Why don’t I get us some? I want another beer too.”

  Food couldn’t hurt. If she drank all of the beer on her empty stomach she’d be unfit to drive for a while, not to mention the possibility of making really bad decisions involving Shannon and the motel map. “Okay.”

  She watched Shannon walk away, remembering the strength in her legs and the power in her hands. With a helpless groan she folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. Shannon’s open, easy smile was painted on the back of her eyelids.

  A hand on her shoulder shook her gently awake.

  She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you, but some of the food’s here.”

  Please let me not have drooled all over the table. She swiped at it with her napkin just in case. “I’ve had a really, really long weekend.”

  “Josie told me.”

  “Oh lord, don’t tell me they eloped.”

  “No—no. Eat something. Paz had really good news so we celebrated.”

  Kesa dug into the chicken fingers as Shannon explained about the internship and how it put him at the front of the line for sponsorship of his graduate degree and perhaps a post-degree job.

  Another server with a tray of food paused next to their table. He lifted a huge order of golden brown onion rings but froze as Shannon waved a hand.

  “Those can’t be for us,” Shannon corrected before he could set the plate down. “She can’t eat them. We’re the sweet potato tater tots.”

  Kesa was touched that Shannon remembered about the onion rings, but it was also unsettling. Why would she have remembered something so trivial about a woman she didn’t intend to ever see again? “Thanks. Tater tots—childhood in a crunchy cylinder of goodness.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. And hey, vegetable.”

  “Sure. That color orange occurs in nature.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes and Kesa felt a little bit of life creep back into her bones. “So we’re finally having a casual dinner. I’m sorry I was—that I said no before. We have to get used to seeing each other.”

  “Yes.” Shannon wiped her fingers on her napkin before having a hearty swallow of her beer. She started to say something, then covered her mouth to delicately burp. “Excuse me.”

  “The joy of beer.”

  Shannon tucked her hair behind her ear and Kesa had to actively push away the memory of her lips on the soft, tender skin of Shannon’s neck. “Anyway, I understand why you pushed me away. Yes, we have to get used to seeing each other, but it was a cover excuse I hoped you’d accept. I wanted to see you again and hoped the past would just…just fade out.”

  Kesa discovered it was impossible to summon a serious frown while licking the ketchup off a tater tot. Well played, Shannon, well played. “It doesn’t work that way, does it? We would go fifty years without ever talking about that crappy thing you did?”

  Shannon spread her hands helplessly. “I’m not excusing it. But I should tell you the context. If you want to hear it.”

  The vulnerability in Shannon’s eyes made up her mind. It was an unexpected, new moment of intimacy, a kind they’d not shared before. “I’ll listen.”

  Shannon took a deep breath. “I grew up in a very, very quiet house. My aunt was in her sixties when I was a teenager. She had been disappointed in life and she made sure I knew that disappointment was all there would ever be for me too. She was a pessimist on steroids, nothing but doom and gloom. She kept the curtains closed all the time. Then 9-11 broke her for good. She wouldn’t listen to the news. She read the same three books over and over. Only one thing I ever did truly pleased her, and that was working for the Marshals. I could stop another 9-11 from happening. No pressure there.”

  Kesa let Shannon be silent for a moment, even though she didn’t understand where Shannon was going with it.

  After absentmindedly eating another tater tot, Shannon seemed to find her way out of memories. “My mother was an addict. I told you that, I think.” At Kesa’s nod she went on, “My aunt told me my mother was given to wild dreams and outrageous ideas, and they killed her. I know almost nothing else about her except what’s in a string of arrest records for petty theft, possession, prostitution. Intellectually I knew that addiction is what killed her, but emotionally? I was afraid of turning into her. So I believed my aunt when she said things like ‘Keep your head down or someone will cut it off.’ That was her philosophy, and I heard it from the time I was a baby.”

  “That’s awful,” Kesa exclaimed.

  “Especially since it sank in. My mother was proof that my aunt’s way was better. I didn’t realize until after she was gone that she was suffering a kind of mental illness and that it had affected me too. I had kept my dreams small, achievable, unremarkable. After she died that frame of mind started to change. Like, I decided to push for a higher security clearance because I wasn’t going to be afraid of bad guys I couldn’t see or that the powers-that-be would hold me back because I was gay.” A smile softened her intensity. “And Paz—I’ve only just realized how much he brought into my life, bit by bit. That you don’t always have to test the water before you jump in. And—and I met an amazing woman in a bar and invited her to spend the night.”

  “I never thought that was something you did all the time. But I didn’t realize that I was…”

  “Unique,” Shannon supplied. “Nothing like you had ever happened to me before.”

  The shifting image of Shannon in her mind was unnerving. To realize that for all her strength and assurance—especially in bed—she’d been hiding an almost crippling fear and insecurity. It unfortunately sounded far too familiar. The demons of the parents were powerful long after they gone, Kesa thought. “You’d have told me this eventually.”

  “If we’d had time, but I made sure we didn’t. I crawled into a hole and shut out the light you brought. Head down. I might have come back up for air, but then the thing with Paz—we were in Portland and I was so very embarrassed.”

  Kesa took a deep breath. “So that’s the context? I scared you.”

  “Big time.” Shannon was blinking back tears even though she was also smiling. “Have you ever held a hot slice of pizza in one hand and an ice-cold soda in the other? And there’s no way to even that out—one hand burning and the other going numb?”

  “I hope to god I was the pizza.”

  Shannon sniffed as she chuckled. “Yeah, you were the pizza. I threw away the heat and kept the ice. I didn’t know how else to feel safe.”

  “So when I left on Sunday and I thought we were cool, we weren’t. You were really freaked out because I said that I loved you.”

  “Not quite.” Shannon sipped nervously from her beer and took a shaky breath. “You said ‘I love you’ and it sounded utterly, completely batshit crazy to me.”

  It hurt to hear her own fears said aloud. It had been a positively insane thing to say. If she’d kept it to herself they would have seen each other again, very likely. “I can understand that, but you couldn’t even text me and say ‘it’s been fun’ or something like that?”

  “I didn’t want to do that.”

  “So you did nothing.” Kesa rolled her shoulders to shake off some tension. “Nothing at all.”

  Shannon had another nervous sip of beer. “By day I’m a crime-fighting data superhero. By night I’m a lovelorn loser who can’t find a way to say ‘I love you.’ I was going to say it. Back then.”

&nbs
p; “Wait. What?” She couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “You were going to say it back to me?”

  “No, I had wanted to say it before you did. I was undone by you. That afternoon was…”

  “Magic,” Kesa said softly.

  “Magic. You were looking at me like everything that could be beautiful to you was all in me. I opened my mouth to say it and you said it first.”

  “I don’t understand, then. Why—”

  “It sounded absolutely batshit crazy. Utterly daft. I mean, there was no way you could fall for me in two days. I realized if I said it to you then you’d know I was insane and you’d run for the hills.”

  Kesa spread her hands in disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  The stony cop face was back as Shannon snapped, “I’m well aware of that.” She held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t afraid of your crazy, I was afraid of mine. What I felt completely upended my entire life to that moment. All of it. I’m not impulsive. I don’t jump out of planes.”

  “Neither do I. But I don’t make things up. I don’t lie about how I feel.” She lowered her gaze because there was too much truth in her eyes. “Why couldn’t we have been batshit crazy together?”

  “I thought about it. I bought this.”

  Shannon had set a small box on the table between them. Kesa recoiled as if it were radioactive. “What is that?”

  “It’s a ring. I bought a ring. Because I was batshit crazy in love, even though I knew it was impossible. And at the time I couldn’t think of anything more powerful to shut off all the fear. It worked—for an hour. Then instead of magic it felt like The One Ring…”

  Kesa stabbed a finger at it. “Put that away! You did not want to get married. That’s crazy.”

  Shannon spread her hands in a gesture of acceptance. “See?”

  Kesa opened and closed her mouth. A sip of beer helped her gather her wits as all the things she’d said to Josie floated back to her. Oh the irony. Only funny when it happens to other people. “I knew there had to be a reason.”