By Proxy (24 page)

“Yeah, I heard. Sounded out of control.”

Instead of heading to the annual party, Sam had opted instead to stay at the office and work late. Work was the only thing left that seemed to distract him from Jenny, so he was burning the midnight oil lately. Although he was efficient and thorough, the usual satisfaction he derived from working hard was absent, unbalanced as it was by the missing “playing hard” component. It was more like drudgery, but at least it kept him busy until his feelings for Jenny faded.

Please fade soon. I can’t take much more of this.

“Oh brother, you have no idea. Sandra from accounting brought a friend, and afterward we went to her place. Suffice it to say, the party continued.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, putting his palm up. “High five, man!”

Sam sighed, gesturing to his computer, leaving Ron hanging. “Ron, do you
need
something?”

“Just came to say hey,” he said dejectedly, lowering his abandoned hand. “So, listen, Sandra and her friend Kiki wanted to get some drinks tonight, and I know you and Pepper are ancient history, so I thought you might want to…”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, Ron.”

“Dude,” Ron sighed. “What
happened
to you? You used to be party central. You’re turning down drinks and a sure thing for…for
work?
Did I mention the friend is suh-mokin’?”

Sam looked up at Ron and cocked his head to the side
.

He was sick and tired of missing Jenny.
Give it a try, man. You’re not with Jenny; you’re here. You’ve got to move on. Maybe you’ll like this girl. Anyway, you’ve got nothing to lose, Sammy.

He forced himself to smile at his friend, reaching for his mouse to shut down his computer. “You know what, Ron? Sure. Count me in. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.”

Ron jumped up and drummed his hands on Sam’s desk. “And he’s baaaaaaaack!”

Sam watched Ron go, then turned in his chair to look out the window at Chicago
. I never got back
, he thought ruefully
.

***

Ron had chosen an intimate, classy bistro, but the girls were running late so Sam sat at the small table with Ron, knocking back a scotch, hoping it would numb him into a pleasant state before Sandra and Kiki arrived.

Ron was yammering on about how much easier girls were during the holidays. “It’s a smorgasbord out there, man, and I’m not kidding. They all want some chump lined up for the New Year’s kiss. So it’s all low-hanging fruit. Some rotten, some luscious, but all easy picking.” He downed his beer and signaled to the waitress to bring another, drumming on the table in his version of holiday cheer. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy! What
happened
to you?!”

Sam looked up from his drink and smirked. “What do you mean?”

“So serious. So brooding. Where’s the funeral, dude?”

Sam leaned his head to the side, regarding his friend. Ron was a pig, yes, but it had never really bothered him before. They’d partied hard, met some pretty cute girls and had a good time together. So it wasn’t necessarily fair that Sam felt a quick spike of disgust for his friend. Ron hadn’t changed, just like Chicago hadn’t changed. But Sam
had
changed, and he wasn’t sure his life would ever go back to the way it was before meeting Jenny.

Jenny. He thought of her honesty, how she always gave a straight answer, even when it cost her something to do so. Maybe it was time for Sam to try doing things her way.

“You know, Ron,” started Sam, unaccustomed to speaking seriously to his friend, “there are some girls out there that you can’t just—”

“Okay. Okay. Sorry.” Ron put his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes. His beer arrived and he took a long draw, wiping the foam from his lip with the back of his hand. “She was quite a girl. I get it.”

How did Ron know about Jenny?
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Ron nodded sympathetically, grimacing for Sam. “Pepper Pettway. Sex-on-a-Stick. She was one hot piece of ass. And don’t get me wrong, classy too. You actually consider the shackles for a chick like that.” He licked his finger and touched it to his other hand, making a sizzling sound. “Tssssss!”

Sam couldn’t have been more surprised. Ron thought he was missing Pepper?
Wow
. It made Sam’s head spin to realize how off-the-mark Ron’s assumption was. But, he had to hand it to Ron…Sam couldn’t think of a more complete prison than a marriage to Pepper. His friend had inadvertently nailed it.

“Yeah.” Sam gave a short, cynical snort. “Better you than me, brother.”

Ron looked perplexed. “Better you—” He rubbed his index finger on his chin like he was trying to figure something out. Then he pointed at Sam. “She dumped
you
, right? That’s why you’ve been so mopey?”

Sam shook his head slowly.

“I don’t get you, Sammy. You had
that
, and you let it go? You cut it loose?” Ron shook his head in confusion and disbelief.

“Things aren’t always what they seem.”

Ron’s baffled expression suddenly brightened and he gestured to the girls making their way into the bistro. He stood halfway out of his seat and waved them over.

Sam stood up and fixed an engaging smile on his face.
At least try.

“Sammy, this is Sandra,” Ron said, gesturing to a grinning, blonde woman whom Sam recognized from his office building. “And this is Kiki.”

Kiki smiled, offering her hand to Sam. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He enveloped her hand, irrationally hating the fact that the last woman whose hand he’d held was Jenny’s. Now it was Kiki’s. He released her hand gently, telling himself not to be an ass…which just reminded him of Jenny all over again.

This must be what it feels like to go utterly crazy.

Sam raised his eyebrows, gesturing to Kiki’s raincoat, but she slipped out of it easily and took the seat next to Sam. He noticed it was a Burberry, possibly custom-fitted, and probably cost a fortune. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d look in a puffy parka with white fur around the hood framing her face.

“Cozy foursome,” observed Ron. Sandra giggled and looked up adoringly at him.

Sam turned to Kiki. “So, Kiki, what are you drinking?”

“Champagne,” she answered with a brief, refined smile, assessing the small bistro with a calculated glance.

“Sandra?”

“Same! Why not? It’s Christmastime!” She giggled again and Ron asked her about her day. She leaned in closer and they continued an intimate conversation dotted with several gasps and giggles.

Sam called the waitress over and placed their drink orders. He turned back to find Kiki’s elbow rested on the table, her chin rested on her hand, looking frankly at Sam. Her glossy red nails caught the dim light of the café as they tapped lightly on her cheek, checking him out. She was pretty. She had almost-black hair and bright green eyes she made up expertly; she was very thin, and her black blouse set off her pale skin and dark locks. A few weeks ago, he’d have felt eternal gratitude to Ron for suggesting he be the fourth for a setup date with such a beautiful girl.

“So, Sam. Sandra told me you used to date that weather girl? Pepper Pettway?”

Bold. What’s in
your
underwear drawer, Kiki?

“We broke up a couple months ago.”

“I like that, though.” She winked at him. “She’s a nine and I’m a nine, so it’s all in the family.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t play innocent. You rate us just like we rate you!”

“Rate?”

Kiki cleared her throat. “Umm, lovebirds!
Atencion, s’il vous plait
!” Sandra and Ron looked up. Kiki flashed Ron a runway smile. “Ron, one to ten, what am I?”

Ron smiled back at her teasingly, raising his eyebrows. “What do I get if I say eleven?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“I
would
like to know.”

“It’s illegal in several countries,” she volleyed back, licking her finger then touching her cleavage, throwing her head back, moaning lightly.

Ron narrowed his eyes dramatically and breathed in loudly, assessing her. “Umm…nine.”

Kiki winked at him, raised a delicate eyebrow and turned to her friend. “Sandra?”

Sandra elbowed Ron lightly. “Come on! She’s a
ten
, baby!”

Kiki turned back to Sam, victory bright in her eyes. “See?”

“I see,” he answered, honestly wondering how in the hell he was going to make it through dinner.

“Oh, come on!” Kiki cajoled, noting his sour expression. “Everyone’s doing it! It’s the new thing. Want me to do you?”

He stared at her like she was an alien life form. She took that as a yes.

“Brown eyes…not bad. Hmmm…what is that? Reddish-blond hair? Huh. One point off. Ginger’s not
‘in’
right now.” She let her glance sweep suggestively, brazenly up and down his seated body, letting her eyes rest for a long moment on his lap. When she returned to his eyes, she smiled sexily, wetting her lips and pursing them together. “Clearly
fit.
What else? Vice president, right? Not partner, though, huh? I give you…an eight—and a half, ’cause you’re cute. Dye your hair or come find me when you’re a partner, then I’ll give you a nine.” She smiled that full-blown runway smile she’d offered to Ron, that Sam was quite sure she’d offer to just about anyone with parts between his legs as long as she deemed him an eight or up.

“Kiki, is it? Right?”

She nodded eagerly, wetting her lips again.

It wasn’t her fault. It was the sort of flirty game that he would have engaged in a month ago. It would have led to sexy banter and thinly-veiled innuendo throughout the meal. By the end of dinner she’d be trailing her slick red nails up and down his arm and an hour after that they’d be skin to skin in his bed. Again, it wasn’t her fault. The thing was…Sam had already found the most fascinating, surprising, sexy girl the world had to offer. He’d found her and he’d lost her and it was breaking his heart every second of every day he spent away from her. .

“No offense, Kiki, but I can’t do this.”

Sam stood up, placing his napkin on the table. He took a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and dropped it on top of his napkin. Then he picked up his coat, tossed it over his arm and walked out of the bistro without another word.

***

When he got home, he took the elevator up to the top floor of his apartment building and walked up the steep flight of gray concrete stairs to the roof. He turned his eyes to the night sky, looking for the stars and was rewarded with cloud-cover and a pinkish-gray city sky. No Cassiopeia, no North Star to “help him find his way” as Jenny had promised. No stars at all.

He had bought a C. S. Lewis book impulsively on a lunch break and found a passage in it that resonated with him. He couldn’t shake it now that he’d read it. After the death of his wife, Lewis had written,
Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.
That’s how Sam felt, too. There was no respite from his feelings, no matter how far away he was from her.

He held onto the railing that surrounded the perimeter of the roof, remembering Jenny at the arch when he asked her to come to Chicago. She had placed her hand on his arm:
I’m not ready to say good-bye either. I’ve never felt like this. Never in my life.
And how had he responded to that gift? He had pressured her, judged her, criticized her, tried to force her hand. For what? For a place he could barely stand anymore.

He hated himself. He hated that he had been wrong: going back to his old life was impossible. Knowing Jenny and leaving her had made it impossible. The hold she had on his heart was unyielding. Even from 1,500 miles away, his eyes searched for her in clubs, at church, in throngs of people. Places that used to hold a special energy for him were hopelessly colorless, good for little but useless sentimentality. His hands yearned to touch her, simultaneously resenting and worshipping the imprint of her laced fingers through his. Regardless of the distractions everywhere—work, parties, clubs, girls—his heart ached for her alone with a throbbing, unceasing longing.

And standing on that roof under a pitiable, starless sky, several simple truths became evident to a very changed Sam Kelley.

The first was that he wasn’t going to be able to resume his old life in Chicago.

The second was that what he had with Jenny hadn’t been infatuation.

The final one, which his heart had known for some time and his mind was finally obligated to accept with breathtaking clarity:

He was totally and completely in love with Jenny Lindstrom.

***

When he told his boss he wanted two extra days at Christmas to spend with his family, Thomas had given him a hard look. “First it’s a day in Montana that turned into three. Then you don’t show up to the Christmas party. Lots of clients were looking for you there, Sammy. Frankly you’ve been a little moody lately. Your work’s solid, but your attitude sucks. Who has time for that? How about you take the whole week and make sure you
want
to come back after New Year’s, huh?”

It was like slap in the face. In a good way. A bucket of icy cold water, a loud alarm clock, the screech of brakes. A wakeup call. Sam nodded at him, eyes growing wide and hopeful as a liberating awareness flooded him, making synapses fire like crazy in his head, putting together the very beginnings of a plan
. Was it really
that
easy? Oh, my God. It was.

“You know what, Thomas? I’ll do just that.” He started breathing faster, excitement building.

Thomas had narrowed his eyes, probably realizing he had overplayed his hand, because Sam’s face probably had all of the signs of a man who’d just realized he wouldn’t drown if he jumped ship. “Sammy! Don’t be rash. Just get your priorities straight.”

Sam had chuckled and nodded at his boss with a lucidity—
with a hope
—he hadn’t had in two weeks. “That’s
exactly
what I’m going to do, Thomas.” He started to leave his boss’s office when he turned around, smiling broadly, excitedly, for the first time since he returned from Montana.