Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (17 page)

"How was it that your brothers were able to get into the business so easily?" he asks, blowing smoke out the window.
 

"Mike never told you?" I make a U-turn and drive back to the showroom to try a different path.

"I don't talk to Mike much."

"I don't blame you," I say, and make an illegal turn down the next street.
 

"My dad had a car repair shop for a long time. Well, I say car repair, but it was really more of a strip shop," I explain. We're finally driving down to the bridge along a relatively obstruction-free street. "Had a lot of connections in the business, and my brother Derek used those to get started. With what happened to my mom, a lot of people were eager to help."

"What happened to her?" Greg asks, making an image of her bleeding out on the kitchen floor flash before my eyes. I never saw it, but Mike described it vividly enough, so I still dream it sometimes. But she never dies in my dreams.

"She was stabbed to death during a burglary," I mutter, chasing away the image.
 

"Sorry," he says.

"It's been almost fourteen years." And I make it a point not to think about it too often.

"So at least the community came through for you," Greg says, tossing his cigarette out the window.

"In a manner of speaking," I say. Some fucking community. All it did was make me a criminal. Though I had a lot to do with that on my own. But I'm through dwelling on that. I made my choices, and I will do this thing Mike so wants me to do to the best of my ability. No looking back. No feeling sorry for myself. I'm stuck in this life. Come Friday I'll be cemented in. No going back to Gail. No more pretending I can just walk away. The day I got arrested was the end of that hope. I've just been too dumb to accept it.
 

"This route sucks too!" I say after we hit another traffic jam, this one caused by a narrowing of a street. As I make another left back to the showroom, I start to wonder if my plan was shit to begin with. Maybe down Park Avenue and over Brooklyn Bridge really is the best way to handle this. I try that one next.
 

But there's so many obstacles in the way, and there's no way those turn offs can be done at high speed on a Friday night. Maybe on a Wednesday.

"Fuck this!" I say as the light turns red and I almost hit the car in front of me. "Let’s come back tonight. It'll be more representative at like three AM anyway."
 

"Representative? That's a big word," Greg says, lighting another cigarette. "I thought you'd stolen cars in the city before."

"Sure, from unsuspecting targets, and with enough time to get away," I say. "With this job, they'll likely know the second the cars are gone."

Greg chuckles again. "Just trust Vlado."

I ignore him and we don't talk for the rest of the way.

"Coming tonight?" I ask as we're riding the elevator up. My stomach and back feel like I've been kicked around some more. I can't wait to lie down.
 

"I might have plans," he says. "But maybe."

"Alright, call, or whatever," I say as the elevator stops on my floor.
 

I take a painkiller once I’m back in my apartment, and fall asleep almost immediately.

The phone ringing wakes at twilight and I get up too fast, hoping it's Gail.
 

But it's not her, as it shouldn’t be. It's Dad.
 
I don't answer. Marjorie calls right after and by this time I feel like my blood is boiling. So now they want to talk? Because poor little Mikey told them he was fine and they can stop hating me. Well, it's too late. Way too fucking late.
 

"Yes?" I answer Marjorie's call, putting all that black anger into my tone.
 

"Scott, how are you?" Derek asks. I can hear some sort of beeping in the background. He must still be in the hospital, or is back in. Some of the anger ebbs away, replaced by shame and guilt. But I'm done feeling guilty. I'm paying a high price for what happened and I can't undo any of it. Ever. I can only try to not make it worse.

"Fine, you?" I ask.

"Mike called," Derek says, and my stomach cramps up.
 

"Is that why you're calling?" I ask.

"Look, I wanted to apologize for the things I said. I was out of line." If he was really sorry, he'd call sooner.
 
"I had two more surgeries since then, I was pretty out of it."
 

"I hope you're doing better," I interrupt.

"I am," he says. He doesn't like my tone, I can hear it in his. But that doesn't touch me right now. Nothing does. Maybe if they believed me about what a psycho Mike was, I would be back in our apartment in Connecticut, not here all alone, dreading a job I don't want to do. It's me who can't forgive any of them for turning against me. No matter what they say.

"You made your decision, Derek, and I made mine," I say, my voice all cold, no cracking. "And I don't think there's anything more we need to say to each other."

"Those are some big statements, Scott," he says, anger plain in his voice now. "You sure you mean them?"

"I'm sure," I say. "And I'll call Dad and tell him the same thing."

Derek sighs like he has more to say, but I just say bye and hang up.

Call waiting beeps in my ear, while I'm talking to Dad. He's less hard about it, whinier, and I know he's sorry, somewhere deep down, but it doesn't matter. None of them were there for me when I needed them. And I'm done with my denial about that.
 

I feel strangely weightless once I hang up on Dad too, and turn off the phone. At least this way, I won't jump the next time it rings, thinking it's Gail. I'd disconnect it completely, but it's the only number she has for me, and I can't let go of that rope just yet.

Though once I join Vlado completely there'll be no going back. And it's about to happen on Friday night. No pulling out, no leaving. No more pretending I'm anything but a criminal who'll eventually go back to prison. I can only hope it happens later rather than sooner.

Suddenly it's the end of June, and even though my head's spinning from all the facts and data I need to know for my finals, Scott's still the first thought that pops into my head each morning. Along with the burning hope that he'll call me today. Hasn't happened yet, but I've learned not to fight the hope anymore. It just gets worse when I try to.
 

My last exam is this afternoon, and I'm handing in my final paper tomorrow. On Saturday I'm leaving for Geneva. Maybe a change of scenery will finally cure me of missing Scott. Fat chance. But at least I'm mostly mad at him now. Which is one of the stages of grief according to all the websites I read on the subject, while I should have been studying.
 

I'm fairly certain I went through all of the stages already, back before we even moved in together. At least the urges to call him have stopped. I had those bad all through May. But I stayed firm and strong. If he wants me back, he can call. Which obviously he doesn't, so fuck him. Which is what I want to do right now. I've been driving myself up the wall trying not to imagine his arms around me, his lips pressed into mine, his tongue hard and insistent, his cock…

"No!" I yell, throwing the blanket off and jumping out of bed.
 

I'm all red in the face by the time I finish my shower, sweating because it is too hot outside to be taking scalding showers. But at least my mind's clear of Scott again.

I'll pack when I get home tonight, maybe go out for a drink. Maybe with Leo. He's been asking me, and I've been saying no, but maybe it's time to stop that. He's leaving for Europe soon too, and maybe that's a sign. I'm reaching. He's just going home, and he's probably sick of me for saying no all the time, but I call him anyway, before I change my mind.

"So, how about that drink, finally?" I ask, smiling widely and hoping he can hear it. "Say eight tonight?"

He agrees readily, so that's one less thing to worry about.
 

I dress quickly, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of my head saying I'm just going out with him because I'm terrified that the exams are over and I now have all summer to think about Scott, and all the things we could be doing, like going to the beach, travelling, making love in some secluded meadow for real.

"No and no," I mutter, speaking aloud to myself like maybe I'm going insane again. For real this time.
 

But the thoughts of Scott just keep coming, until my exam starts and I'm finally able to chase them away. They come right back after though, since I have a date with Leo and now I'm worried Scott will be mad. Like he hasn't slept with at least fifty girls since he dumped me. Like he even still thinks of me at all. Which he doesn't for sure, because he would've called if he did. And there's no way I'm calling him.

Leo's waiting for me by the taco truck when I get there a few minutes to eight.
 

"You do not want to go to a Mexican restaurant?" he asks after he kisses both my cheeks like he always does. Thankfully, he hasn't tried anything more since that night weeks ago.

"I love the tacos here," I say and get in line. That's how I sold going to this place to him, because a sit down dinner would be too much like a date. He's wearing Scott's cologne again, and I make sure to stand a few feet away from him. But it's stuck in my nose now, and the ball of need and longing, desire and love it awoke in my chest is slowly spilling down into my stomach and lower. No. I can't think of that. I won't let it in.
 

I wish there was a way I could ask Leo not to wear the cologne. But there is none that won't make me sound insane. Like it's mocking me, the wind picks up and it's blowing right past Leo, bringing the scent into my face. It feels like Scott's here too, warning me to stay away from Leo.
 

It takes me a moment to regain my senses enough to order. I get a beer with my food, hoping it will take off the edge.

"So, what are your plans for the summer?" Leo asks between bites.

I shrug, pulling a loose onion from my taco. "Not sure yet. I plan to just relax for awhile first."

He laughs too loudly, a piece of meat flying from his mouth, landing next to my hand. "We all need some rest, I think."

Some more than others. I can’t wait to just relax all day, far away from here, in a place where nothing will remind me of Scott. Hopefully.

"I've been invited to lecture at a Human Rights summer school in Venice," Leo says.
 

I nod, beaming at him. "That's great."

Even though it sounds like something for high school students.

"You should come too. A lot of people from our field will be there. Important lecturers," he adds. He's completely abandoned his taco and is staring at me like the only thing in the world he wants is for me to say yes.

"When is it?" I ask, taking a sip of my beer. But it was a mistake to order it. The taste reminds me of Scott. I hardly ever drank beer before I met him, and I really shouldn't now that he's gone.

"July 3
rd
to the 20
th
," he says. "Enrollment closes next Friday."

That's in a couple of weeks. I won't get much relax time if I sign up.

"I'll look into it," I say, taking another bite of my taco.

He pulls out his phone. "I'll show you the website."

He types and scrolls, then holds the phone out to me. I take it and read, trying to figure out how to let him down easy. But he wasn't exaggerating, the lecturers are the leading people in the field. Though it is more of a European program.
 

I memorize the website address and hand the phone back to him. "Alright, I'll sign up."

He smiles widely. "I'll make some calls on your behalf to ensure you get in."

"There must be like a screening process. I might not be eligible, seeing as I'm from the US," I say, still not really sure whether I want to go or not.
 

"Nonsense. I'll make it happen," he says and laughs again, possibly reading my mind correctly. It irks me that he's able to do that. Scott is the only one who always knows what I'm thinking.