Secretly More (2 page)

“Har har.” Jay rolled his eyes, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. His gaze flicked between the road and the car’s clock as he accelerated, the latter based on reflex. He’d bought the car for five hundred dollars off eBay a few months ago and the clock—as well as a few other features, including a jammed sunroof—had never worked. Instead, Kimber had used a label maker to create the standing time of
12:52
during one of their rides to the casino together, leaving yet another of her many marks.

“You know I’m right.” Moquest stretched, putting his hands behind his head. “Face it, Navarrete. You and Kimber? Not in this lifetime. If it was meant to happen, it would’ve by now.”

“Right, like I’m going to take relationship advice from a guy nailing a stripper.”

“An ex-stripper. Gina’s trying to turn her life around.” Moquest grinned. “Fortunately, she’s still got all the perks and knowledge from the gig without having the gig itself, if you know what I mean.”

“I always know what you mean. You’re not exactly Joyce or Eliot.”

“I’m just gonna ignore what was probably one of your geeky, literary insults no one gets and tell you I know someone who’s into you.”

Jay narrowed his eyes and cranked down his window, the glass jarring with every twist of the handle. “Who?”

“Nicole.”

“I don’t know a Nicole.”

“Yeah, you do—the chick from the cash-out counter with the sexy flower tattoo on her spine. Don’t ask me how I know that. Trust me, she wants you, man. You should go for it. Bring her to my party Saturday.”

“What’s the occasion, a celebration of you dating an exotic dancer?”

“An ex-exotic dancer, and yes, more or less.” A wicked gleam shone in Moquest’s eye. “It should be a wild night.”

Jay rested his arm along the window, his elbow feeling the fading, late-spring sunshine. “Isn’t it always?”

“Yeah, but this one should be especially interesting. Gina’s been giving me ideas.”

“I’m sure she has been.”

“I’m telling you, you’ve got to bring Nicole. I can’t predict a surer thing.”

“I guess.” Jay shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Moquest crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked out the window, shaking his head. “I repeat—never gonna happen.”

“Shut up.”

“I wish I could, man, but you’re just so pathetic. Does Kimber have any idea how long you’ve been into her? Seriously, you need to tell that girl what’s what or move on and finally get a life. I know so many girls you could be gettin’ it on with, it’s painful. I can’t stand to see you waste the prime of your life like this.” He paused as the car veered off the highway and slowed along the shoulder. “Why’re we stopped? Where we going?”

“I’m going to class. You’re going there.” Jay pointed out the windshield, where several Indian women mingled around a battered bus stop covered with graffiti and defiled posters urging citizens to vote.

“Are you kidding me?” Moquest sputtered as Jay reached over him to open the passenger door and push him out of the car. “I’m just trying to get you laid for the first time in eons, and this is how you repay me?”

“Tell Gina I said hi.” Jay pulled the door shut and, with an exaggerated wave to his friend, made a U-turn and merged into traffic again.

“I’ll get you for this.” He heard Moquest yell after the vehicle. “Just you wait.”

Jay snickered as the rest of Moquest’s threats faded with the distance, but his mirth was short-lived. He knew Moquest was right about Kimber. It was time he did something about his feelings for her, and with Dane edging more and more out of the picture, now could be the perfect opportunity.

* * *

Later that evening, the Monte Carlo rolled to a stop in front of a renovated Victorian house, its first-floor apartment the one Kimber currently shared with her older sister Ferney. Jay lowered the volume of the stereo, currently blasting Sly and the Family Stone, as Kimber gave a sigh.

“I’ll miss this dump,” she said.

“I’m sure it’ll miss you, too, but you’re onto bigger and better things.”

She turned to him, her blonde ponytail swishing with the movement. “You think?”

“God, yeah. Having your own place is awesome, you’ll see. You should be proud you can pull off living alone.”

“You’re just saying that—but I think I needed you to.” She grinned and leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “So I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Obviously. How else are you gonna get your stuff there with no car?” Jay gave her a squeeze back then loosened his embrace, but he didn’t let go until Kimber did. She chalked it up to the hug etiquette she’d taught him when they were juniors in high school. The day they met, she’d been milling around with some mutual friends, insisting it was Free Hug Day. Then Kimber, ever the extrovert, grabbed him, the new kid from the next town over, and gave everyone a demonstration on giving the perfect hug. Part of the tutorial was never letting go until the person who initiated the hug did. Kimber pulled away with a smile, thinking how much she’d probably embarrassed him then but how the lesson was apparently instilled in his brain anyway.

She gave his nose a tap goodbye. “Don’t forget to bring your muscles tomorrow.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

She exited the car, half-skipping to her apartment while the Monte Carlo idled outside until she reached the porch. Kimber waved as Jay beeped the horn and drove away, then turned to go inside, almost bumping into Ferney, who met her at the door with a glass of merlot.

“Hey there.” Ferney passed Kimber the wine. “I thought you could use a drink after a long day at work.”

“Fern, I work at a bar.” Still, Kimber accepted the glass and took a sip, although not without giving Ferney a suspicious look.

Ferney elevated her chin and pursed her thin lips. “It’s the thought that counts.” She beckoned for Kimber to follow her into the kitchen, where Ferney’s fiancé Paul stirred a pot of brown liquid. Tall and rail thin with delicate cheekbones and pale skin, he looked more fey and elfin than usual, wearing her older sister’s frilled cherry-print apron. “You remember Paul.”

Kimber slanted Ferney an exasperated look then turned to Paul, who’d been her sister’s boyfriend for the past three years before he recently proposed. “Kimber York, how do you do?”

“Paul Langham.” He jutted out his hand, and she shook it. “Good to meet you. Ferney’s mentioned you once or twice.”

“I can only imagine what she said.” She peered into the pot. “What’re you burning?”

Paul’s lips twisted into a pout. “It’s supposed to smell like this.”

“Never mind Paul and his ways.” Ferney slid into the breakfast nook’s booth with her own glass of wine and scooted over, patting the seat beside her. “Come here and let’s have a little chat.”

“Oh boy.” Kimber sat with a groan. “I knew something was up. You’re never this nice to me when I come home.”

“What are you talking about?” Ferney’s voice rose, indignant. “I’m always freaking nice to you.”

“All right, fine.” Kimber laced her fingers atop the table with a stifled sigh. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I just want to make sure you’ve got everything ready for the move.” Ferney covered Kimber’s hands with her own and stared at her, her gray eyes brimming with distress.

“I think so. But I’m moving, like, eight blocks away, so if I forget something, I’ll just pop over.” Kimber turned her attention to her orange striped cat, the eight-month-old Pepperoni, who trotted into the room and flopped onto his back. She bent toward him, rubbing his stomach. “Hello, little man.”

“Which reminds me, don’t forget to take that mangy thing.” Ferney gestured toward Pepperoni.

“He isn’t mangy. He’s clean.”

“He’s a menace. He’s constantly in my ear, meowing and playing and carrying on.”

“That’s what kittens do.”

“Whatevs. I’ll be glad to be rid of him. And now that he’s gone, you can finally concentrate on going back to school, getting your business degree, and opening your own bar like you’ve wanted,” Ferney said. “I hope you’re still planning on calling it Ferney’s.”

“Totally,” Kimber said, deadpan. “You know what a brilliant idea I think that is.” She slanted her sister a look. “While we’re on the subject of the future, you
will
be helping me move tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.” Ferney made a face. “I’m offended you’d even question me. The one you should doubt is useless Dane. Is
he
going to come through for you? That’s the real mystery—and one I probably know the answer to, if his track record is any indication.”

“You’re a real Nancy Drew.” Kimber took a gulp of wine, trying to calm the nerves that had suddenly frazzled at the reminder of her boyfriend’s undependability.

Ferney slapped her palm on the tabletop. “I think tomorrow should be the final test. If he doesn’t show up to help you lug your shit into the place you should’ve been sharing, he’s history. If he shows up, great. Then I’ll think of more tests he’s likely to fail.”

Paul rested his hands on Ferney’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “What your sister’s trying to say is that she’ll miss you.”

“No, what I’m trying to say is I hate Dane. He’s twenty-four and he acts like he’s still in college. He doesn’t know what to do with a real woman.” Ferney’s head lolled forward and she gave a groan, the veil of her straight-ironed white-blonde hair hiding her face. “Keep rubbing. I think your thumb’s on a knot.”

Kimber’s cell phone sounded in her purse, and she swilled the last of the merlot and hurried to her room, her heart turning over at the sight of Dane’s name on the display screen. She both craved and dreaded his calls; they usually went exceptionally well or exceptionally bad, with no in-between option. Most often they were both.

She flipped on the light, illuminating nearly empty room with stacks of filled cardboard boxes, and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, bables.” His voice, as always, sounded vaguely amused and slightly stoned. “What’re you up to?”

“I just got home from work.” She sat on the edge of her mattress resting on the hardwood floor; pieces of the bed’s headboard and frame leaned against one of the bare walls in the corner. “What about you?”

“Just hanging out, wondering when I’ll get to see you again.” She pictured his wiry form sprawled across a couch, clad in the classic Dane uniform—khaki shorts and a Grateful Dead tee over a long-sleeved shirt—and his long, wavy brown hair tied back.

She pulled her knees to her chin. “Why not tonight?”

“I wish I could. But Sam’s car is blocking mine in and she’s not home to move it.”

“Oh.” Pain and anger constricted her heart, and she fought against the wave of uncontrollable jealousy threatening to run rampant. How was it that rotten twists of fate always managed to keep Dane and her from seeing each other or even getting along? There was always some barricade to overcome, and most of the time Kimber didn’t know if they actually overcame the obstacles or just ignored them.

“You could come over here, if you want.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I understand if you’d be uncomfortable doing that though.”

Uncomfortable was not the word to describe how agonizing she imagined visiting his new place would be, all the while knowing it wasn’t supposed to be like this. “I shouldn’t,” she said finally. “I still have a lot of packing to do.”

“Ah. All right.” She heard him light a cigarette and take a drag. “So what time am I helping you move tomorrow?”

“How about nine?” She willed back the tears she knew loomed in the very near future. “Ferney wants to cook us all what she’s calling a power breakfast beforehand, so bring some antacids.”

Dane laughed. “I’ll be there.” His voice dropped. “Love you, bables.”

“You too.” She hung up, trying not to feel disappointed in the evening and wishing there was something Dane could say to fix everything. In spite of herself, she thought of Ferney’s move-in test and wondered if it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Chapter Two

Jay wandered through apartment 18, nodding as he surveyed the stacks of boxes that created a cardboard fortress along the blank walls. “Look at all this space you have.”

Kimber smiled. “That’s because there’s no furniture in here.”