Leo listened to us as he straightened up the music room.
Sebastian asked him, “Where are you and Tiffani going tonight?”
“I’m going to a sushi place downtown,” he told us, fiddling with his guitar. Did his comment mean they weren’t together anymore?
None of us spoke, and the silence grew longer and longer as the three of us stood there uncomfortably. My thoughts were centered on Leo and his sushi plans and maybe-date with Tiffani; Sebastian was probably worried about my reaction to Leo, and who the hell knew what Leo was thinking.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I gotta go change. Can you pick me up in an hour?” I asked Sebastian.
He gave me a thumbs up. “Gotcha.”
“Great,” I said, gathering up my purse and sheet music.
“Have fun,” Leo said with a tight face as I walked by.
“Ditch your sushi plans and come with us,” I said stopping in front of him, biting my cheek at the words I hadn’t meant to say.
He stiffened, his eyes bouncing from me to Sebastian. “No can do. Already made plans.”
I nodded, and Sebastian walked me to the door. “Don’t let him bring you down, okay?”
“Love’s a bitch,” I said.
“Fuck you perfectionism. Without you, I am brilliant.”
–Coco J. Ginger
THERE WAS A crowd already at the door of Gilligan’s, so we had to stand in line to go inside. Apparently, every high school kid and college student had had the same idea we did.
“There’s Emma,” Sebastian said, surreptitiously pointing at a group a few feet in front of us. She was wearing stilettos, a purple mini skirt, and a sequined pink shirt. She and her crew were flirting with one of the bouncers who walked down the line checking IDs, and as we watched, Emma let out a girlish squeal at something one of them said.
“She’s kinda hot in a sleazy way,” Sebastian said with a shrug as his gaze ran over her. What the hell? I arched my brows and flicked a glance at Mila to see if she’d heard his betrayal. She was glaring at him like she wanted to smack him.
“Please, her life’s ambition is to star in a future 50 Cent video. And years from now, when I’m a doctor and rich, and she’s got herpes . . . maybe I’ll help her,” Mila said with a snort.
“Mila, if we were bros, I’d totally fistbump you right now,” I said, laughing. Mean Mila was funny.
“Do you think it keeps her up at night, thinking about her boyfriend screwing her best friend?” Sebastian asked.
“If it does, she doesn’t want anyone to know. She’s too proud,” I said, watching Emma. “She’s got secrets, too, just like everyone else.”
“Secrets or not, she looks like a normal bitch to me,” Mila piped in. “I got no sympathy for her. She’s been cruel and hateful to us both for years. Cry me a river.”
I snorted at the word normal. If you looked it up in the Webster’s Dictionary, you’d find twenty-two different meanings and two parts of speech. Hey, there’s even a town in the Midwest called Normal, Illinois, population approximately 52,772.
But all those meanings aside, to most people, normal means being average in everything: intelligence, looks, personality, and of course, emotional adjustment.
I am not normal, and I doubted Emma was.
Was it possible that Emma had her own dark secrets that made her the mean person she was? Yeah, sure, but I still didn’t like her.
Once we got inside, Sebastian was impressed with the interior of the club, which had a stage area for the bands and a dance floor. The owner had gone for an island theme with sharks and stingrays that swam through coral in a long fish tank behind the bar. We made a plan to talk to the owner soon about the band playing here.
We went to the bar. While he was ordering our sodas, my phone buzzed, and I saw it was Drew. He’d mentioned wanting to call me outside BA when Leo had been there, and he’d tried several times, but I hadn’t been ready to talk to him. Truthfully, I’d been more responsive to him in the parking lot than I’d intended. Most of that had been for Leo’s benefit.
--I didn’t see you at the debate meeting. I heard you quit. True?
I replied,
--Yes.
He texted,
--Why?
I typed out,
--Long story. I quit student council and yearbook too.
He wrote back,
--Interesting. Can you talk?
I looked around the busy club and wrote,
--No.
He texted,
--Are you wearing a green dress and a pair of sexy cowboy boots?
I wrote back,
--FYI, stalking is a crime in Texas.
He texted,
--It’s not stalking if you happen to be in the same place at the same time. Look behind you.
I turned around to see him standing at the entrance of the club, his smile directed at me. Not sure what else to do, I waved him over, and we all found a booth. Drew slid in beside Sebastian, and Mila sat beside me with raised brows. Yeah, she knew all about New York.
When the guys started talking about football at BA, she took her phone out. I knew what was coming.
She texted,
--I thought you were done with him. You gonna hit that again? I hear the girlfriend is gone for good.
I replied,
--Shut it, Mila.
She wrote,
--He’s got big hands. And feet. Wonder what else is big.
I texted,
--Your mouth.
She replied with,
--Don’t look, but he’s staring at you!
I shook my head and ignored her, refusing to look up to see if he really was. We’d been talking a little in class each day, and I knew he’d been trying hard to make up for what had happened back in January. I’d said as much to Mila.
After a few minutes of chatting, Sebastian grabbed Mila’s hand and tugged her up out of the booth. ‘Come on, sweet thing, let’s go dance. I want you to show me how to do the two-step or that boot, scoot, boogie thing.”
They wandered off, her giggling at something he said while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Drew gave me a lingering look. “Is it okay if I sit beside you?” he asked.
I nodded, and he slid in next to me. “So I saw you called?”
The waitress came by with a soda for him, and he took a quick sip. “Yeah, several times. I wanted to talk to you about debate, get you to sign back up. With you gone, I got no competition,” he said with a grin.
I told him that I needed a break. I told him about moving out and working at the gym. I tried to explain without giving too much away, and he seemed to get it.
After a while, he took a deep breath like he was nervous. “Nora, that’s not the only reason I called you. We started a conversation in Cal class a while back, and I want to finish it.”
“Okay,” I said, playing with my straw.
“I want to say that what happened in January was wrong. I never should have let us go that far when I wasn’t sure of my feelings for Lori. It’s just that I couldn’t resist you that weekend. It’s like we got away from BA, and you became more alive than I’d ever seen you.”
I nodded, remembering. Getting away from Mother and her reach had spurred something inside me in New York.
His fingers reached for mine. “I want you to go out with me, and I don’t mean like that night in New York. I mean like a real date where I come pick you up and take you somewhere nice. I want to get to know the real you. We’ve always known each other, but there’s more to you than just the girl I see at school.” He looked down at our joined hands. “There’s always been a spark between us. I want to see where it leads.”
He seemed sincere. But could I really forgive him for dumping me?
And then I thought about Leo.
I thought about Tiffani.
I thought about her feeding him raw fish at some swanky restaurant downtown.
Maybe second choice was all I’d
ever be.
“I’d love to,” I said and he smiled.
Sebastian and Mila came back and coerced us out to the dance floor. While we danced, I saw Emma dancing with Matt. Rumor was they were back together, and I assumed they were since his hands were plastered to her ass. I remembered our dance and what had happened after.
By midnight we’d decided to go home, and Drew walked me outside. “Pick you up next weekend at Portia’s Pastries? We can talk in class about where you want to go,” he said, leaning back against the side of Sebastian’s car and pulling me to stand between his legs. Even in my heeled cowboy boots, he was taller than me, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
I nodded.
He stared down at me and cradled my face. “I want to kiss you, but I’m not sure you want me to,” he said softly, his thumbs stroking the sides of my face.
He let his fingers drift down my cheek. “I’ve been sitting next to you in Cal class for weeks, wanting to tell you I’m sorry for everything. But most of all, I’ve wanted to kiss you.”
My stomach fluttered. At least being second choice means I’m still chosen. “Then kiss me.”
He tilted my face, and ever so gently, he pressed his lips to mine and kissed me the way I remembered. Soft and slow and sweet; it was very good.
“This was no lukewarm, vanilla feeling.”
–Leo Tate
DAYS PASSED. I worked. We had band practice.
Sebastian and I were back to the usual, working out together, playing music, talking about football. He’d helped me plan the birthday dinner for Nora. And while I’d been baking her cake and making a damn mess all over the place, he’d watched me quizzically the entire time, like he thought I’d lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
His profession of love for Nora made me livid, and I hated it. I did my best to push it to the back of my mind and pretend that I didn’t care. What was wrong with me, to be mad at my baby brother? I wanted to yell at him every time he gave her a little smile or sent her a concerned look or rubbed her back. And it wasn’t just Sebastian either. I’d even given Teddy the evil eye at band practice when he’d sat too close to her at the piano.
Fuck jealousy.
A knock came from my office door. I glanced at my watch. It was two, which meant it could be Nora. I hadn’t really talked to her in the past few days, and I got excited at the prospect of seeing her alone for once.
“Come in,” I said.
Sebastian walked in, but before he shut the door, he glanced back and sent a quick look out at the front desk where Nora sat.
“What?” I asked, my temper flaring.
Sebastian chuckled. “Feeling pissy today, bro?”
Why the hell was me being in a shitty mood funny? “You come in here for a reason? I got work to do, so get to it.” I motioned at a seat.
“Fine,” he said, taking a seat in one of the leather loungers. He crossed his arms, opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, shaking his head, like he’d changed his mind.
“Talk, Sebastian,” I said, thumping a pen against the desk. “I don’t have all day.”
He sighed. “Nora . . . and I . . . we have a serious problem.”
I straightened up as my stomach plummeted. “What kind of problem?” I asked with barely controlled rage, the first thing running through my mind was Nora being pregnant with Sebastian’s baby. I held my hands under the desk so he couldn’t see my clenched fists. Agony ripped through me at the thought of her big with his baby, and I forced myself to stay calm and not react the way I wanted to, which was to jerk him up and beat the shit out of him. And I didn’t want to do that. Not really. He was all I had.
But, I couldn’t stop my imagination from going crazy when I pictured Nora happy and smiling with a child, her child. And envy gnawed at me. Wondering what it would be like if she belonged to me, I pictured these possible fragments of my future, where I took care of her, where I made love to her everyday, where we got married, where she delivered our precious babies.
And those fake, future memories . . . the beauty of it took my breath away.
I startled at the suddenness of my realization, recognizing it for the truth that it was. What had I given up when I told her we would never be? Had I lost my only chance at real happiness when I’d rejected her?
I grappled with my emotions, not sure what to call it or how to describe it.
Was it love?
No, that didn’t cut it. This was no lukewarm, vanilla feeling. It was a madness, making me feel like a weak-kneed boy on his first date, like I had fucking butterflies in my stomach when I pictured her face. She consumed me, my head, my heart, my skin, my blood, my muscles, everything aching for the physical touch of her body against mine. I’d had an inkling of what we could be at the open house; at the movies, I’d realized that she could be mine if I let her; now I knew I’d made a mistake.
Did this mean she was my soulmate? Because she held my gutless piece-of-shit heart in her hands; because I thought I would die if I never got to kiss her again?
Yeah.
I felt the beginnings of a splitting headache and wished for a good bottle of whiskey.
“Leo?” he asked, bringing me back. “Dude, you alright?”
“Just tell me. Get it over with.”
He squirmed. “She’s got this guy sending her texts,” he said and stopped, not elaborating.
“Cuba?” I bit out unsure whether to be relieved or angry Nora was sleeping with some other guy. Or maybe both?
Sebastian must have seen the conflict on my face, because he sputtered. “Jesus . . . someone . . . I can’t say who . . . keeps sending her texts and trying to scare her.”
“Scare?” I rose up from my desk and braced my arms on top. “How?”
His face whitened.
I rapped my fist against the hard wood of the desk. “Tell me, Sebastian.”
He stood and backed toward the door, his eyes wary. “This was a really bad idea. I’m breaking Nora’s confidence, and I shouldn’t have. It’s not a big deal anyway.” He ran his eyes over me dismissively. “I’ll protect her.”
“Yeah, because you love her, right? You guys gonna go steady now? Get married someday? I hope you’re using protection, Sebastian.”
He let a small smile slip out, like he had a secret.
“What’s with the smile?” I snapped.
“We use protection, don’t worry,” he said, his eyes trained on my face as blood drained from it.
I swallowed painfully and closed my eyes, trying to get the mental picture of them together out of my head.
He snorted. “We don’t have sex, Leo. You’re so stupid, man. And you’re right, I do love her. Like a sister.”
“These boots were made for staggering.”
–Nora Blakely
ON SUNDAY, I woke up at five when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Finn.
--If you won’t call me, then I’m coming to you.
If he was up texting that early, I knew he had to be either drunk or high and that made him unpredictable. I immediately scooped up my purse from the side table next to my bed and took out my knife, assuring myself it was still there.
I had to be ready.
Later, I made my way downstairs to help Aunt Portia get the breakfast crowd started. I cleaned the kitchen from the morning muffins, make the daily coffees, and prepped the stations. At eight, I called the Piano and Friends studio and told them I wouldn’t be back. They’d been calling my phone and leaving voicemails, asking if I was returning for lessons. For the past several years, I’d spent many weekends there, sometimes hours at a time if I was preparing for a recital or a pageant. Would I miss those lessons? No. I’d never had a choice in taking them.
At noon I was upstairs when my dad called and asked if I wanted to come by and pick up some of my things. He said he would meet me there to help load up. I got excited thinking about my sewing machine and laptop, so I threw on some jean shorts, a tank, and flip-flops. I decided to
head over to the gym to see if Sebastian would mind following me so we could load both vehicles.
When I got downstairs, I noticed a package sitting inside by the front door. It was a large brown box and addressed to me with no return name on it. I pulled it past a couple of staring customers and back to the kitchen where Aunt Portia was cleaning up from the lunch crowd.
“Oh, glad you found it. It was delivered by courier while you were upstairs. What do you think it is?” she asked, washing a baking pan.
“Don’t know,” I said, pulling some scissors from the utility drawer. I cut through the taped-up box. When I had it open, I peered inside and saw a shoe box with the words Texas Traditions Customs written on it. TTC was a boot-making company in Dallas owned by Scott Ryan, who made boots for people like Lyle Lovett and Mick Jagger. The average cost for a pair was around a thousand dollars with wait times up to a year.
I opened the lid and inside was a pair of vintage-style, amber-colored boots made of distressed sharkskin. I stroked my hands across the surface, tracing my fingers over the delicately stitched blue angel wings with a red heart in the center. I pulled a small note out of the box, unfolded it, and read aloud, “For Nora, who flies with her own wings.”
He’d left it unsigned.
“How did he know what size?” I mused.
“Leo? He called me, and I told him.”
“I thought you didn’t know who sent them?”
She flicked a towel at me. “I didn’t know it was boots in there, silly. Plus, it was weeks ago when he asked about your size.”
She gave me a considering look. “Those are expensive boots. Is there something going on between you two?”
“He got me these because of a bet. And no, there’s nothing going on between us. We’re just friends,” I said.
I kicked off my flip-flops and put the boots on. They slid on perfectly. “I’m wearing these all day.”
She smiled at me.
I gathered up the packing material, took it out back to the dumpster, and then carried the boot box up to my room for safe keeping.
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