Going for Broke: Oakland Hills Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Friends with Benefits) (9 page)

A
s he washed
his hands in the sink, Ian wondered what else the sisters had said about him. He’d overheard the last few lines of conversation, which told him they’d been arguing about him being there, and figured it was best if he faced the controversy personally.

“Like I told Billie,” he began, turning around and shaking off his wet hands, “this is like a hobby for me. Exercise. A break from business.”

“What’s wrong with the gym?” Billie asked.

Jane touched her arm. “No, it’s all right. I said it’s all right.”

“I’m just asking,” Billie said.

He ripped off a paper towel from the roll and wiped his hands, then his face. He could feel bits of decaying carpeting, dust, and cat hair sticking to his skin. But the floors were now bare, and Shawn and Marco had just left for the day. “Working out at a gym is a waste of energy. If I’m going to lift heavy things, I’d rather those things needed to be lifted for some reason other than strengthening my muscles.” To his amusement, he noticed Billie’s gaze flicker down his body.

He propped his hands on his hips, watching her gaze take another journey over him.

“Maybe we should charge
you
,” Jane said. “Like the health club would.”

Billie jumped in with a fake laugh, trying to ease the tension. “We were just thinking you’ve done enough. More than enough. After today—”

“You know what? I think Ian and I need to go for a walk,” Jane said, nodding her head at him. “We can catch up on old times. What do you say?”

“Excellent idea,” he said, disposing of his paper towel on the way out to the hallway. It would be impossible to really talk to Jane when Billie was there. “Let’s go.”

Billie made some kind of noise in protest, but Jane was soon at his heels. They walked out the front door to the driveway, where the debris box and storage unit sat with their loads.
Better out than in
, he thought. The house had a long way to go, but getting the junk out and the floors stripped was a massive improvement.

Jane walked over to the green box and stood there, looking down at the rolls of shredded, decayed carpeting. “First of all, thank you for doing this today,” she said. “Our dad begged Grammy to let him replace the carpeting, but she refused. He even offered to do it himself, without any strangers helping, but she’d clam up, stop answering the phone, lock the doors, avoid us for months. What could we do?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

She glanced at him. “Andrew thought we should’ve done it when she went to the doctor a few months ago. Abduct her for the day. Not ask, just do it. But we didn’t want to upset her.”

Ian thought Andrew sounded like an asshole. “Who’s Andrew?”

“My boyfriend. I live with him.”

He nodded. So far, this was the longest conversation he’d had with Jane in over ten years.

“I take it you’re not seeing anyone?” she asked.

He glanced back at the house and thought he saw a flicker of movement at the window. “Let’s walk. It’s a lot nicer than staring at garbage,” he said.

Jane looked over at the window. “Billie,” she said, shaking her head. “Just like old times.”

He didn’t want to think about old times. He wanted to make new ones.

They headed up the street toward the huge regional park less than a block away. One of his favorite trails was in that park, winding up through redwoods to a ridge with a fantastic view of the entire Bay Area. The location was unbeatable. He lived down in Emeryville because it was an easy stroll to the office, but he figured he’d move up here eventually.

“Why did you assume I’m not seeing anyone?” he asked.

“No reason. Just asking.”

“You said, ‘I take it.’ Why did you say that?”

“Oh, come on,” she said.

Had Billie told her about the kiss yesterday? He took a few steps without speaking. “No. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Do you ever?”

“What do you mean, ever?” he asked. Was she suggesting he’d been celibate since they’d dated?

“I was wondering if you ever got serious,” she said. “Or if you still sleep around like you did in college.”

His steps faltered. “How do you know what I did in college?”

She shrugged. “You developed quite a reputation. Word gets around.”

“Marquita Hansen told you.” A classmate of theirs who’d gone to MIT with him. Unfortunately, he’d slept with her, as well as several other women in his freshman dorm. He’d had his own way of dealing with a breakup.

“Can you guess why I’m concerned?” she asked.

“Can you guess why I don’t give a—” He stopped himself. He unclenched his teeth. “Why are you concerned, Jane?”

She took a deep breath as if she were about to jump off a high dive. “The last time I saw you, at your parents’ Halloween barbecue last year, you kept staring at me.”

Halloween? He thought back. “I was waiting to see if your shoes got stuck in the lawn,” he said honestly. People didn’t usually wear high heels like that up in Rohnert Park unless they were headed to the casino on Friday night.

To his surprise, she smiled. “I’d thought the party was going to be inside,” she said, shaking her head. “Because of the rain.”

“Dad had already marinated the beef,” Ian said. “He would’ve fired up the grill in a hurricane.”

“So you weren’t—” She looked serious again. “OK. Fine. You were staring at me because of my shoes.”

“I don’t remember staring at you.”

“Well, you were.”

“If you insist,” he said.

“And then when I saw you here at the house today, I thought… because you’d been looking at me that way last fall…” She trailed off with a shrug.

She was afraid he wanted to get back together? “Listen, Jane, I don’t think about you,” he said firmly. “I haven’t for years, except when my mother or Billie mentions you or we see each other at a party or whatever.”

“Great,” she said flatly. She didn’t seem comforted.

A horrifying thought struck him. What if… Feeling queasy, he lowered his voice. “I’m sorry if you
want
me to think about you. I didn’t realize—”

“Oh, God.” She held up her hands in a warding-off gesture. “No. Never. I wouldn’t ever—you can’t think—”

“I don’t, I don’t,” he said quickly, relief flooding him. “You
hate
me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She paused, inhaling another deep breath. “But I will if you hurt Billie.”

I
an could see
the fierce protectiveness in Jane’s eyes. “Ah,” he said.

“When I first got here and saw you, I thought, well, what I said. That maybe you wanted to see me. But then, after I talked to Billie and you came into the kitchen…”

He waited.

“I saw the way you looked at her,” she said. “And the way she looked at you.”

Even her sister can see Billie wants me
. He looked down at his boots, dusty and paint-splattered from other jobs, avoiding eye contact so she wouldn’t read the triumph in his face. “And?”

“And I didn’t like it.”

“Not surprising,” he said. “You don’t like
me
.”

“I care more about Billie than I can say. I’d do anything to protect her.”

He looked up. “I care about her too.”

“If you really did, you’d stay away from her.”

He fought to keep his voice level. “You might have reasons to hate me,” he said, “but Billie doesn’t. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Of all the women in the world, why her?” she demanded. “You could have anyone. You’re rich and handsome and successful… Why Billie, for God’s sake? It’s always seemed to me like some weird revenge thing. You and I ended on pretty bad terms. So why get close to my sister? You two have nothing, nothing in common.”

“Maybe I like that.”

She shook her head. “I can’t help but think how people have been telling me and Billie our entire lives how much we look alike,” she said. “Once we were both teenagers, strangers would assume we were twins.”

For a moment he could only stare. “Are you suggesting I like Billie because she reminds me of
you
?”

“I know how competitive you are. How much of a perfectionist,” she said. “If you make a mistake, you like to go back and do it over. I think there’s a lot you might do with your ego at stake.”

He turned on his heel and began walking back to the house. “It isn’t
my
ego that’s a problem,” he said roughly, even more angry than when Billie had shown up at the door half-naked.

“Just think about what I’m saying,” she said, chasing after him. “You never were very reflective. You’re not self-aware. Don’t you think it’s possible you want to relive the past? Not because it was so great, but because it wasn’t?”

“You just can’t believe this isn’t about you,” he said.

“Not me, exactly, but—”

“I’m not in love with you, Jane.” He stopped and turned on her. “I wasn’t even in love with you
then
.”

Her face went completely blank. He saw something terrible flicker deep within her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly. “As if I could ever forget.”

His anger seeped out of him, leaving him numb. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I would never talk about this if it weren’t for Billie. But I’m willing to humiliate myself for her sake. I’m willing to have you remind me of how little you cared about me because maybe you’ll realize that you’re about to do it again.”

“I’m not. I’m not the same man—I wasn’t even a man then, for God’s sake, I was seventeen. Seventeen, and barely. I wish you’d remember that.”

“People don’t change that much. You’re still basically the same. You’re ambitious and analytical and don’t like to get too emotional about anything or anyone,” Jane said. “You’ll always put your work first. You can’t help it. I know because I’m the same way. We’re not like Billie. She’s all heart. She’s impulsive. She doesn’t worry about what could go wrong.”

He considered those qualities. “I like those things about her,” he said.

“Liking isn’t enough,” Jane said. “She needs love. And I’m going to be the one picking up the pieces when you don’t give her any.”

He saw the tears shining in Jane’s eyes and felt a mixture of guilt and rising panic. “Please don’t cry.” He reached up to adjust the glasses he didn’t wear anymore. He’d had LASIK and never got used to it.

Scowling, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m not. It’s the wind.”

“I haven’t had the chance to say it for a few years,” he began. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop. Don’t. Please.” She turned and started walking toward the house. “For God’s sake, let’s not talk about that.”

He strode after her, looking up at the house just as the door opened. Billie came out with the usual mug of tea in her hand, smiling at the sun, and waved at them.

Jane made a show of waving back, shot him a big, fake smile over her shoulder, and jogged up the steps. “The park is just up the street. I never realized how close it was.”

“I know, isn’t it great?” Billie’s curious gaze darted to Ian. When her eyes dropped to his crotch, the desire blasting through him almost knocked him over.

He walked up the steps slowly, watching her watch him, wanting to pin her against the front door, tear off her sweatshirt, lick every curve.

“You forgot to take off your tool belt,” Billie said, pointing not at his impressive genitals but his well-worn utility equipment.

“He knows it’s a good look on him,” Jane said.

Both sisters looked at him and laughed, cooling his jets as effectively as an icy shower.

Holding his head high, he walked past the sisters, still laughing on the front step, and went into the house for his gear. He needed to go home and clean up, think about what Jane had said, decide what to do next.

He was stumbling into a complicated situation here and needed to decide if it was worth it. Billie didn’t want to get involved, her sister certainly didn’t want them to, and their mothers’ friendship would make avoiding each other in the future impossible, which is what they’d want to do if things got messy. And Jane was right—it would get messy.

He went back outside, holding his crowbar and second tool belt—yeah, he had more than one, let them mock—and strode past Billie and Jane, still laughing at him, down the steps to his truck on the street.

“I’ll see you guys later,” he said. Maybe he’d catch up on some paperwork tonight, or call his friend Ty and go out for a beer, or watch that game he’d missed. A little time to screw his head on straight.

Yeah, that’s what he needed.

But just as he was dropping his gear into the back, he glanced up at Billie and saw the look on her face.

Disappointment.

And just like that, everything changed. Again.

She was disappointed he was leaving.

He paused and stared at her for a moment, feeling good just looking at her. Then he climbed behind the wheel.

It was too late to care what Jane thought.

Sensible or no, he wanted Billie. And he’d have her.

A
t work on Monday
, Billie’s head was definitely not on the job.

He’d kissed her. He’d laughed off her declaration that he wouldn’t do it again.

And then, the final straw, he hadn’t. He’d driven away in his truck, never to be heard from again.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t thank Jane for whatever she’d said to scare him away. She could only be annoyed with him for playing with her.

Obviously, he was all wrong for her. She needed a guy who was as mild-mannered and obliging as she was. They’d bend over backward trying to make each other happy, they’d never fight, they’d cuddle and snuggle together at home, safe from the pushy, aggressive world outside.

This was what she wanted, she told herself. Not a hard-muscled, testosterone-fueled, blue-eyed alpha male who’d always get his way because she could never stand up to him.

“Get out there, Billie. It’s 8:31. You’ve already got a line waiting.”

Billie bit back a sigh as she grabbed her tea and stood up. Her supervisor, a sixtysomething man who went by ‘Doc’ because he had a PhD in something unspecified, was glaring at her from his desk behind hers. He hated her guts, always had. It was the hardest part of her job. No matter what she did, how well she performed her duties or even how badly, he seemed to despise her.

“On my way,” she said, walking out of their small office with its glass walls to the front counter, where she greeted the taxpaying public. Her real bosses. They despised her only slightly less than Doc did.

But at least they had a reason. She was the official representative of the office that issued city permits, or didn’t issue them, and charged high fees and lots of red tape for the experience. With one glance at the line snaking out into the hallway, she could tell who was big business, who was small, who was a homeowner, who would be overjoyed that she could speak Spanish, who would roll their eyes when she did.

They all had their problems. Morning problems were different than afternoon ones, and huge development projects usually had more than tiny ones, but she never knew when it would be the sort of problem to keep her up at night, driving her to do yoga or drink chamomile tea at three in the morning.

“Hi, how can I help you?” she asked the first person, a woman with a narrow face and huge silver hoops in her ears. Her dyed-blond hair was braided into long pigtails that rested on her shoulders like frayed ropes. She looked familiar, but Billie couldn’t place her. Perhaps she’d joined the parade of humanity that marched past her counter some other day and Billie just didn’t remember her.

“I want to talk to Doc,” the woman said, staring past her through the glass wall into their office. “I can see him in there.”

“I’m so sorry,” Billie said, “he’s tied up with other business right now, can I—”

“He’s eating a donut,” the woman said.

Really? Billie was tempted to look back over her shoulder. Doc had been going through a Paleo phase and pressured everyone around him to do the same; if he was eating a donut, Billie wanted to see it for herself.

But she overcame the urge. “I’m sure I can help you with whatever—”

“I’m not leaving here until I talk to Doc.” The woman propped her crossed arms on the counter and leaned closer. Her braids and earrings swung forward. “That son of a bitch owes me money.”

Blissful relief flooded Billie from head to toe. It was
personal
. Excellent. He’d
have
to deal with it.

“Of course,” Billie said, beaming at her. “What’s your name? I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“He’ll know. Just tell him it’s time to pay the piper. And he’s the rat.”

For a moment, Billie’s joy wavered. The lady was probably crazy. She peeked at Doc, certain he would yell at her for interrupting his—yes, he really was eating a donut. Chocolate sprinkles, from the looks of it. Getting caught would make him even angrier.

“Excuse me, isn’t there somebody else who can help you out here?” shouted a man from the middle of the line. “Last time I was here, I waited an hour and a half. I’ve got work to do.”

Grumbling agreement rippled through the parade of citizens.

They always asked that. The answer was always no. Since the recession, the number of city employees had been gutted. More than half of the desks in the building were empty.

But maybe today she would make a show of asking her boss for help and they could see him wave her away. Then they could aim their fury at Doc, chowing down on his chocolate sprinkles on the other side of the glass door, and spare her their hate.

“I’ll go see,” she said with a tight smile. “Thanks for your patience, everyone.”

They sighed like a summer breeze as she walked away.

Leaving the door open behind her, Billie went over to her boss’s desk. “Could you come out to the counter, Doc?”

The donut had disappeared, but telltale chocolate sprinkles littered the goldenrod-yellow Boys and Girls Club flier on his desk. Brushing crumbs off his white beard, he glowered at her. “You should’ve gotten out there earlier. And if you weren’t so slow, the line wouldn’t get so long. You always waste too much time jabbering with everyone. This is city hall, not Starbucks.”

“There’s a woman here to see you,” Billie said.

“What? Who?”

“She wouldn’t give her name. But I think I’ve seen her before.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. You fell for that—” he began.

“Don’t pretend you don’t see me,” the woman called out.

Doc went as pale as his mustache. And then shot to his feet. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

“Don’t bother running,” the woman shouted. “I know all about the back door to this place.”

Billie was enjoying this.

Doc braced his hands on the desk, his jaw muscle twitching. His eyes darted back and forth. Finally he sat back down and waved dismissively at her. “Stop staring and send her in. And don’t expect me to help you with that line. You’ve got to find a way to be more efficient.”

Billie went back out and ushered the woman through the foldout counter and in through the office doorway. Doc, who was standing at the door, slammed it when the woman was inside and began lowering all the blinds.

“So sorry about that,” Billie told the man who was next, a general contractor she’d helped several times before. “How can I help you?”

Over the next three hours, she dove into the daily grind at a pace that she hoped wouldn’t give her a migraine. The door behind her never opened, the blinds never lifted. When the lunch hour arrived, she’d just assisted the last citizen with a permit to run electricity to her garden shed, where she recorded a popular poetry podcast that Billie had never heard, but she assured the woman she certainly would do so as soon as she had a second.

She dimmed the lights, put up the hours sign, and stared at the closed door. Her packed lunch was in there. And her purse. If she didn’t get something to eat and drink, she was going to pass out and cause a medical emergency that would end up on the Official Flores Verdes Twitter feed. Nobody wanted that, not even Doc.

She knocked on the door and pressed her ear to the glass. No sound. She knocked harder. Waited again. Finally, she cracked the door open and peeked inside.

And saw that which could not be unseen.