Hanging on (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2) (15 page)

I wondered how I found William so hard to read before. It was comical how easily I could decipher his feelings now. I also wondered what the deal was with him and Adam. I decided to make him sweat.

“Adam is air-brushed good-looking,” I continued. “Tall, well build, gentleman, an extremely good guy—any girl would be lucky to get him.”

William’s blank face was a perfect mask. A see-through one, but perfect none-the-less. “So you would have gone for him?”

I put on a blank face of my own, playing him like a puppet. I shrugged. “Maybe.”

I figured William would get angry, or give me the silent treatment. Instead, he started to laugh. Not the reaction I was going for.

“You would never do as a spy,” he said. “All your emotions are on your face. He is a good-looking dude, though, that is true enough. Girls seem to like him.”

I laughed, too. “No, I wouldn’t have gone for Adam. If he wasn’t your friend and I had never met you I might have, but you trump all. Plus, Adam wasn’t going to go for me. He might have told you that. He might have even thought it at one time, but when it came down to it, he wouldn’t have. I even think he almost did, at Froggy’s actually, but backed down on his own. I’m not what he wants. He’s searching, I can tell, but I’m not it. Interesting that I see this now. I never really noticed it before. Too set on you, maybe.”

William kissed me.

“I was being honest, though,” I continued thoughtfully. “He is a definitely a good-looking guy, but he is a little…I don’t know how to describe it. Pretty, I guess. A little too pretty—don’t tell him I said that! But I like…rugged. He is manly, but doesn’t really come across as rugged. Hard to describe.” I shrugged again. “You trump all.”

William grunted, flexed, and kissed his bicep in a display of “manly.” I amended my description, informing him he was now a clown.

That next week I decided I would take William on a date, Jessica-style. No fancy restaurants, no jewelry, no expensive clothes, and I would pay. With the date in my power, I hoped it would go a little better.

I arrived at William’s house in my new-to-me Beemer wearing jeans, a cute little singlet with an airy top over it, my hair all done and new boots. The door opened and there stood…Adam.

“Um…hi?” I stammered, trying to look past and see what the hell was going on. William better not have forgotten this was my date night! He hadn’t wanted to go, mostly because I planned to drive and pay, so a slip of the mind would be just like him. He would expect the beating, too.

“Ladies ain’t supposed to say ‘um.’” Adam smirked.

“Well, I don’t think
ain’t
is in the dictionary, so who’s judging, huh?”

Adam laughed. “I hear you is takin’ Willie on a date. I’m the door man. C’mon in.”

I chuckled. William didn’t have Gladis, so he called in Adam. Touché.

I was admitted to the front entryway and led past the kitchen, down a hall to the living room, which Adam called the
sittin’ room
. I’d been here a million times, so I knew the layout, but I still marveled at the decorating. William had done it up right. He hated interior design, but he liked living in nice places. He was a bachelor raised by his mother—no beer signs for this guy! He had an interior decorator at the top of the trade come in and work the place over. There were a few artistic pieces that were a bit weird, like the goat statue with gold and grass outlays—he called them eclectic—but overall it was a stylish place.

I sat on the modern leather couch, which was not as comfortable as it was stylish, and noticed a bottle of champagne on the glass coffee table.

Adam sat in the adjacent leather recliner. “How’r you doin’?”

“Great. Really good. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

Adam gave me an annoyed look. “I ain’t the one going through a life trial.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Adam,” I said, taking a sip of my champagne, “I bet you go through life trials every day.”

“You know what I mean, Jess.”

I put on an affected southern accent a la
Gone with the Wind
; “Why, I
never
! I resent the implications that I am a mind reader, Mr. Dunn, if you please!”

“I meant about… How are your mental facilities?” Adam was talking slowly and clearly, as if we were underwater and he wanted to make himself heard.

“My
mental facilities?
Adam, are you calling me dense? That isn’t very nice.”

Adam looked at me slightly cross-eyed, “Jessica—“ he shook his head and tried to collect his thoughts, but apparently gave up when he said, “You can try a saint, you know that? You’re as infuriatin’ as all get-up!”

“I’ll take it from here,” William said, walking in with a smile.

“He’s no Gladis.” I laughed and got up. Adam got up, too, still miffed.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have a lot of options. The other guys were out with girls.”

“I bet their women aren’t all pains in the asses, though. Right, Adam?” I nudged Adam.

Adam huffed and walked toward the kitchen.

William stepped forward in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that fit him like a glove. We were going to a BBQ joint that was widely believed to be the best in the city. Coming from people that loved their BBQ, that was saying something. It was also on the other side of the tracks, so to speak, and I didn’t want William looking all rich and suave to eat some ribs.

The thing with William, though, was that he could show up in a suit and tie and own the room, but he could also show up in a poor man’s suit, like now, and light a girl’s underwear on fire. The man was God-damned gorgeous and I was hard pressed to keep my jaw from dropping.

He walked toward me with a confident saunter and a smirk, his broad shoulders swaying as he closed the gap.

“Hi beautiful.” He slipped his arms around my middle.

“H—hi.” I gulped then smiled. He smelt so
good.

“Cat got your tongue?” He leaned forward and connected with my lips lightly, feeling the electricity pass between us. Then he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into my opened mouth, until I was panting and clutching on to him. He backed off then, slowly, letting the kiss linger, until he separated and said, “Down girl.”

“Not fair.”

He smiled down at me. “What’s not fair?”

“I’m not sure, but it fit.”

“You two done or what?” Adam called from inside the kitchen. “That shit’s gross. Can I go?”

“Language, Adam,” I said, slipping my hand into William’s.

“I’m not apologizin’,” came the disembodied voice. “You’ve said worse.”

William chuckled. “Don’t blame you. And yes, you can go. Thanks.”

We walked out to my car—well, technically Adam’s car, but I was driving it—and I thought it would be funny to open William's door for him, being that I was taking him to dinner and all. He was fine with me shadowing his steps, until he remembered I was driving.

“Do you want me to drive?” he asked in confusion, stopping. Adam stopped on the way to his truck, wondering if there was a problem.

“Nope,” I said, waiting patiently.

William looked behind him, unclear why I was still back there, then half turned, waiting for me to figure out what I was doing. He wasn’t in the habit of letting a woman trail around behind him. Much like a prisoner in a shower, the thought made him skittish.

“I plan on opening your door for you, sir.”

William turned to look at me fully, mock anger doing a poor job of erasing the smile. Adam started laughing.

Adam said, “Thank God you got her Willie—she’d drive me to drink!”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Adam?” I yelled.

“Nope. I wanna see the end of this dog and pony show.”

“Jessica,” William said patiently, ignoring Adam, “you are taking this a bit far. You wanted to drive, which is fine. You want to take me to some backwoods BBQ joint in the middle of the ghetto, against my better judgment, I consented. But there is no way, no way at all, that I will let you open my door for me like I was a chick.”

“I’m being polite.”

“I understand that sweetie, and I appreciate the gesture, but no. Just… no.”

I pouted a little—not because I wanted to open the door that badly, but I wanted to get my way. Sue me. A girl likes to have the run of the mill sometimes.

William’s eyes caught my lips and a pained expression crossed his face, still not dislodging the smile. “Not fair, Jessica.”

He loved and hated that pout. He loved it because it was cute and I put a lot of hip and boob into it. He hated it because he could never resist when I used it, or how happy it made me when he relented.

“What’s she doin’?” Adam called over, still leaning against his truck, nowhere at all to be.

“She’s doing that pouty face.”

“The one with the heart shaped lips?”

“Yeah. She’s even batting her eyes. How the hell can I say no to that?”

“Can’t. You’re whipped. Accept it and let her open the door for you.
Pansy!”

“Least he’s getting laid regularly,” I said to Adam.

“True enough,” Adam acceded, climbing into his truck. “Y’all have fun. Call if anything happens.”

In resignation and a smile, William closed the distance to his door and waited patiently for me to open it. I did so with a flourish and got a pat on the butt as he got in.

“Cad,” I said, walking away.

“What—you aren’t going to close the door for me, too?”

“I’m not your manservant. Polite only goes so far.”

Chapter Nine

The next couple weeks passed quickly. William and I were with each other every chance we got. I knew his friends must have been irritated, but they never showed it.

Adam hung out with us more often than not, and he became like a big brother to me. Fred, the Doberman, was also with us every second. His dog bed moved from house to house, and as long as it was there, Fred rested easy. It was the one time we forgot it that no one got any sleep.

William apparently hated whining. In people, in dogs, in kids, it didn’t matter. His dogs, as a result, were scolded if they whined. The night I was at William’s and forgot Fred’s bed at my house, the dog wouldn’t settle down. He didn’t know where to be. He jumped up on the bed and tried to sleep at our feet. He was a bad dog for this because he wasn’t supposed to get on the furniture—so William said. After being kicked off he went to sleep on the couch. He was a bad dog for that also—William yelled from the bed. We heard him getting down and padding back in with us. He didn’t whine, but he moaned and grunted like a banshee. It was intolerable.

Finally, I just went to get his damn bed. My interview for the new position was the next day, and I needed sleep. William wouldn’t let me go alone so we moved the whole operation to my house. The second Fred was in the door, he ran to his bed, sniffed it, turned around a couple times, and settled in. He slept like a log of the rest of the night. I never forgot that damn bed again!

Gladis was having her party in the next couple weeks and was constantly asking my opinion on things. Did we need an ice sculpture? How much food did we need? Should we have three bartenders or two? Should it be outside and inside, or just outside, or just inside? Everything was ‘we’ as if I was hosting the party as well. I gave my opinion like a rock-star, but let’s face it, I was out of my league. I could throw one helluva party, yes, but those kinds of parties didn’t have a place for an ice sculpture, unless it was in the bathtub, keeping the keg cold.

My life on paper was perfect. Awesome guy, awesome job prospects, awesome living situation—I was so far over my expectations of Texas it was unreal.

But there was one, giant, glaring problem: I didn’t have my girls.

I missed Flem’s sarcasm, Lump’s easy going attitude, Claire’s fun comments, and Jane’s sweetness. I also found myself missing Ami. I didn’t know her as well as I could, but I felt like I understood her tenfold after hanging out with people that had means.

Apparently, calling such people
rich
wasn’t classy. They should be described as people with ‘means’.

I’d told William, “Whatever. It
means
the same thing.” Ha! I was too clever by half.

He didn’t share the sentiment.

I called the girls often, and emailed more than that, but they weren’t around as much lately. I got message machine after message machine, and no calls back. It felt like they were slipping away. That the distance was starting to come between us, as if we were long-term lovers. It made me more than a little panicked.

Candace was very much in my life, and was becoming a good friend, but she didn’t have the history the others did. Also, she was too nice. She always loved my outfits, always thought I was the prettiest person in the world, and always told me how smart I was. As far as “yes men” went, she was right on. For a girlfriend, it would’ve been nice if she’d had an opinion or two.

It was Friday night. Just one Friday night among millions. Another night out with William, Candace, and all the boys. I’d become moody, I could tell I was getting listless, and, embarrassingly, I would randomly cry when I got too drunk, but I couldn’t help it. I was lost. It was like a three legged table with a broom stick stand-in as a fourth leg; not the most stable of surfaces.

We were in my bedroom getting ready, and I was in the middle of trying to get out of going. I wanted to spend the evening on the computer, working out a trip to L.A.

“William, why don’t you just take a boy’s night tonight?” I asked as I picked my thumb nail. For some reason, through all my moodiness, William never got pissed. He was constantly supportive and overwhelmingly understanding. It was weird. Good—of course it was good, but weird. I would’ve bitched slapped me by now.

“I’ve had my whole life for boys’ nights. Now I have you. I want boys’ and girls’ nights for a while. Until I get tired of you.”

It was a joke. I didn’t find it funny because I was a moody bitch.