Seven (6 page)

Chapter 7

Savannah

I don’t see Bryant around much at all the next week, except for the awkward moment in the drug store a couple days ago. I had just stopped by to pick up some more Advil and a new tube of toothpaste when he almost ran right into me on his way out of the store. He had been checking his phone and not paying much attention. Oddly, he apologized and without saying much of anything, told me he was running late, and left. I wouldn’t have given it another thought had it not been for the no less than four prescription bags in his hands. Well, that and the fact that when he saw me he seemed a bit flustered…like he wanted to talk to me but…couldn’t.

Is he sick?

Is someone in his family sick?

I know it’s none of my business, but four prescriptions at one time is a lot. That coupled with the fact that Bryant Wood was not his usual charming, flirty self was odd. Needless to say, I’ve been thinking more and more about him after seeing him that day. Rachel’s words are etched in my brain about Bryant’s story.

He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

What could it possibly be? Cancer? A sick wife? Is he missing a leg? I don’t know, but I allow all possible scenarios to play out in my head.

The following week I'm walking down the street to The Java Joint to get lunch for Rachel and me when I see him again. Bryant Wood is just a few store-fronts down from where I'm standing, walking out of Peirson's Gifts. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed him if it weren’t for the fact that he's carrying a gift box wrapped in red and silver paper, and a small bouquet of pink and yellow roses. I stand there momentarily wondering who he would be purchasing a gift like that for. Obviously it’s for the girl in his life; maybe it's for his mother or grandmother. Maybe he has a sick cousin or something. I take a deep breath and shake the thoughts from my head.

Does he have a girlfriend?

I’m sure he has a girlfriend.

I don’t even care.

I’ll ask Mom.

There's no way he's not committed. As much as I don't want to admit it because of the negative feelings I harbor for him, the guy is, indeed, attractive. Working as a bartender, I don't doubt that he has girls all over him pretty much every night. I remember seeing him in action a couple weeks ago at the bar, though I didn’t know who he was at the time.

Bryant walks out to the street and gets into a black truck. It doesn't surprise me at all that he drives a Chevy Silverado pick-up truck. I roll my eyes as I open the door to the restaurant, shaking my head at my own thoughts. “It's probably for his flavor of the month,” I mutter to myself in reference to the gift he's carrying. “She's probably a skinny bitch.”

“May I help you miss?”

I turn my head away from the store-front window to see the girl at the counter looking at me with raised eyebrows and a smile waiting to take my order.

“Oh yeah, sorry. I called an order in for Savannah Turner.”

The girl behind the counter turns and grabs a bag sitting behind her. She lifts up the tag attached to the take out bag to read it back to me making sure my order is correct.

“One Gobbler and one French Pig?”

Well, nobody’s ever called me a skinny bitch…

“Yep. That’s the one. Thank you.” I pay for our lunches and walk out the door, trying very hard not to crack up laughing.

*****

Can this day be going any slower?

As the afternoon wears on my energy starts to drain, and my body aches, mid-afternoon slump I guess. I’ll be ready to get home and curl up on my couch for the night so I can continue binge watching episodes of
Boston Legal
on Netflix. It’s an old show, yes, but something about the relationship of Alan Shore and Denny Crane gets me every time. Really, I think I’m just a huge James Spader fan.

“Hey Savannah, would you mind closing up this evening? I need to leave a little early to get to a dance recital on time.”

“A dance recital? Who’s dancing?”

Rachel smiles and scrunches up her nose. “My cousin, actually…she’s like, my second cousin or something but whatever, we’re a close family. She’s so stinking cute in her little pink and purple tutu. I’ll have to show you pictures tomorrow. She’s three and a half and you can only imagine what watching a group of little girls that age trying to dance around on a stage looks like.” She giggles.

Peyton.

Peyton would be three and a half.

I’ll never see her in a pink and purple tutu.

I’ll never see her dance on a stage.

“Savannah, are you okay? I lost you.”

“I…I’m sorry. I guess I just stared off for a minute.” I force my face to smile so that I don’t worry Rachel, and so that I don’t have to have a conversation that I desperately want to avoid at this very moment. “Sure, I’ll close up. No problem. That sounds cute. I can’t wait to see pictures tomorrow.”

“Great. Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” I walk quietly back to the bathroom and take a quick look at myself in the mirror. My face is ashen and my eyes look tired. My stomach turns slightly and I think for a minute that perhaps I’ll regret eating that French Pig panini for lunch. I take a minute to splash some water on my face and just focus on breathing in and out instead of on losing my lunch.

I make it through the end of the day and close up the salon, saying my goodbyes to Audrey and Heather, who had come in for the afternoon. I can’t get back to my apartment fast enough. My blanket is calling my name, as are my favorite oversized sweatshirt, and my thickest socks. Damn if I’m not freezing my ass off right now, which I see as a bad sign. There’s no way I don’t have a fever.

I don’t bother to stop anywhere on the way home. I just drive quickly the few blocks it takes to get there. When I enter my apartment I throw my keys on the table and head for the kitchen where I remember seeing the bottle of Advil. I grab three pills and a tall glass of water before heading to my bedroom. Grabbing a fresh towel from the pantry, I slip around the corner to the master bathroom. I always get a shower after a day at the salon. Undoubtedly, I have hair, other people’s hair, all over me, and I feel nasty if I don’t get it off of me before getting into my bed. Tonight, I’m happy to be able to stand under a scalding hot shower in hopes that something, anything, warms me up.

Unfortunately, it’s not quite the heavenly escape I was hoping for. My body aches and I’m exhausted. I’m obviously coming down with something but I can’t figure out yet what it is. Something just isn’t right, but I just want to go to sleep. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning. I pull on my pajamas and my thickest socks. Mom always told me when you’re cold at night, socks do the trick and she was right. I roll into bed. deciding to not watch
Boston Legal
. I know I’ll just sleep through it anyway, and I don’t want to miss anything. It’s lame that I’m going to bed with no supper at seven-thirty on a Wednesday night, but with any luck I’ll feel much better in the morning.

I miss Shawn.

He always took care of me when I was sick.

He would be keeping me warm right now.

Why do men always feel so warm and comfortable?

I dream of him, of his arms wrapped around me, of his kisses running down my neck that make me shiver slightly. He lies behind me, my back to his chest, holding me in his arms, gently stroking my hair as I drift in and out of sleep. The sound of his voice humming to me soothes the ache in my body as I lay happily in his arms. I’ve missed this feeling, being held by a man. He makes me feel safe and loved and cherished.

His hand moves to my stomach and gently glides under my t-shirt. I know where he’s headed and I smile to myself as I lay there with my eyes closed until he reaches his destination. The moment his hand brushes over my breast I feel the spark of electricity shoot through my entire body, like he’s just flipped a switch inside of me. My breath hitches and I moan softly. I can feel his excited body next to mine. His breath is warm against my ear and I’m eager for more of him, more of his hands, more of his body, more of his kisses, more of his warmth. I feel his lips near my ear just before I hear him say “Baby, on a scale of one to four…I love you Seven.”

Bryant?

WHOA!

My eyes open and I jolt up in my bed. I take a minute to look around to make sure I’m alone before closing my eyes and taking a very deep breath.

“What the fuck was that?”
I ask myself.

I did not just have a damn dream about Bryant Wood.

I must be sicker than I thought.

*****

My cellphone is ringing.
It’s not on my night stand as it usually is. Sounds of the strumming guitar ringtone continue to fill up my room so I know it’s nearby, I just don’t know where. I crawl out of bed and hit the floor with a thud. My body feels unusually heavy, like I’ve been in bed for a whole day with the stomach flu, except I don’t have the stomach flu. When I turn my head I spot my cellphone laying just under my bed and grab it to see that it’s Rachel calling. I swipe the screen to answer her call.

“Hello?” The words almost don’t make it out of my mouth. What happened to my voice? “Hello?” I say again.

“Savannah? Is that you? What the hell, are you okay?” she asks.

“Rachel?” I lean my body against my bed from where I’m sitting on the floor. My head falls back against my mattress. I have zero energy and just want to go back to sleep. “Yeah it’s me. I’m sorry, I was just…” I can’t think of what to say. I’m so tired.

“Savannah, you sound terrible. No wonder you’re not at work.”

“Huh? What do you mean not at…”

What day is it? I’m not even sure anymore
.

I look at the clock on my night stand. It’s eleven o-clock in the morning. I was supposed to be at work at eight. “Oh shit. Rachel, I’m sorry. I’ve been sleeping since about...I don’t know…seven thirty last night? I went to bed with a fever and now, I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Whoa. Savannah, that’s awful. Do you need anything? I can stop at the store when I break for lunch.”

“No, no. It’s ok. I think I just want to sleep. Maybe I’ll feel better in a few hours. I’m really sorry Rachel. I must’ve slept through my alarm…or maybe I just forgot to set it.” I mumble.

“Totally okay babe. Audrey will clear your clients for today. Don’t worry about it. You just get better okay?”

I clear my throat willing myself to sound somewhat normal. “Great, yeah. Thanks. Oh hey, how was that umm, dance thingy last night?”

Rachel chuckles lightly. “It was adorable as expected. I’ll tell you all about it when you’re feeling better. Maybe I’ll bring some soup over this evening so you don’t have to bother doing anything. Would that be okay? I’ll just check in on you.”

I smile at Rachel’s request. She’s so motherly I often wonder why she doesn’t settle down with someone and have kids of her own. It’s nice that she thinks of me though. “Yeah, that’s fine.” I yawn. “I’ll see you later then Rache.”

“Okay. See ya soon. Bye.”

I hit the button on my phone to end the call and climb back into my bed for a few more hours…or days, of sleep.

Chapter 8

Bryant

“I got this,” I mutter to myself in the mirror. That hot shower was great and the late morning run felt good, but it’s done nothing for my nerves. What twenty-seven-year-old guy still gets nervous at the thought of seeing a girl? This is bull shit. Except it’s not. She’s the one that got away. Strike that, she’s the one I never had the balls to try for, and now that’s she’s back, she’s broken. At least she thinks she’s broken, and damn if I can’t blame her for thinking that after what she’s been through. This is my one chance though, to fix my past, right my wrongs, and show her that I can be the one she needs to help guide her through the world of hurt that she lives in and bring her through to the other side. I owe her that much.

I owe her everything, but she can’t ever know that.

I just have one thing I need to figure out.

Ivy.

How the fuck am I going to make this work?

Ivy’s been my world for almost four years. I love her. She loves me, there’s no denying that, but Savannah was my first crush, and damn if I’m not feeling the pull of her all over again. I’m all of a sudden pushing everything and
everyone
else aside for a just a minute. I know I have responsibilities…big responsibilities that I need to be focused on, but I can’t get Savannah out of my mind. Her body, the way she felt when I touched her at the bar, the way her hair glistened under the bar lights. She’s clouding my damn mind. Against my better judgement, I pull on my clothes, make sure I don’t look like a slob, and head to the salon. Maybe if I catch Savannah having a good day I can get her alone at some point to just talk to her and show her I’m not the douchebag she mistook me for last week.

Fifteen minutes later I’m out of my car and entering the Great Lengths Hair Salon with a chocolate milkshake in my hand that isn’t for me.

Girls like chocolate milkshakes, right?

“Hey Bryant. What’s up? You need a quick cut this afternoon?” I raise my eyes to search for the voice speaking to me and see Audrey smiling at me from her station. I take a quick survey of the salon but don’t spot Savannah. Maybe she’s in the back.

“Uh, no, not today anyway. Is Rachel around? Or Savannah?”

“I’m right here!” I hear Rachel yell from the back room of the salon. “Come on back Bryant.”

I nod to Audrey and head back to find Rachel mixing some goopy mayonnaise-like solution together in a bowl. It looks like pudding but it smells like shit.

“Whoa.” I crinkle my nose and try not to breathe in too hard. “What is that stuff?”

Rachel laughs. “It’s for coloring Mrs. Swanson’s hair. What’s up? You were lookin’ for me?”

“No.” I say quietly so that the other girls can’t hear our conversation. “I’m actually looking for Seven. She not in today or what?”

Rachel eyes my chocolate milkshake. “Nope. Talked to her a few hours ago. She’s actually pretty sick so I cancelled her clients today. I’m going to drop by later and check on her, make sure she’s okay. She said she’s been sleeping since early yesterday evening. She sounded terrible. Is that for me?” She nods to the milkshake in my hand before raising an eyebrow and smirking at me.

I tip the milkshake slightly in my hand. I had almost forgotten I was even holding one. “Uh…it wasn’t, but it certainly is now. If she’s sick, a milkshake is probably the last thing Seven needs.”

Rachel shrugs. “Her loss is my gain then. Thanks.”

“So you think she’s really sick? With like, the flu or something?”

“Don’t know. She said she had a fever and she said she’s been sleeping a lot. Other than that she honestly didn’t say but she definitely didn’t sound like herself.”

“Maybe I should check on her, make sure she’s okay.”

Rachel leans on her hip and crosses her arms in front of her. “Why would you do that?”

What the fuck Rache…

“Well why not? You were going to, weren’t you?”

“Yeah…and I’m her friend, Bryant. And her coworker. What are
you
to her besides the creep that entered her apartment a couple weeks ago while she was sleeping?”

Damn. She has a point.

I don’t care. This is my chance.

I can do something nice for her.

“I’m the guy who would like to enter her apartment and see her while she’s awake so she can actually witness me being a nice guy instead of having to creep around.”

Rachel looks exasperated. “Bryant, she’s sick! She’s not going to be up for company. Have you not been listening to me?” she shouts.

“For Pete’s sake, yes Rache. I heard you loud and fucking clear. I’m fully capable of being a nice guy who takes care of a sick girl, you know.”

Rachel looks at me like I just smacked her in the face with extremely hurtful words. Fuck that. She doesn’t get to judge me. I know how to take care of a sick girl. I’m a goddamn pro really.

“I know, Bryant,” she says. “I know you are. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“And if I’m not mistaken, I’ve come to your aid a few times with a hot cup of…” I stop talking when the idea hits me right in my face.

That’s it!

“Rachel, I’m doing this. I got this. Don’t worry. Just text me later and I’ll let you know how she is. Are you still on for tonight with Ivy? Cause this morning she was going on and on about manicures and pedicures and shit like that.”

Rachel laughs and shakes her head. “Yes we are definitely doing girl’s night. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. Just don’t mess this up.”

I release the breath I was holding before I nod and give Rachel my victory smile. “I won’t. And thank you for doin’ this, Rache.” I start to retreat from the back room of the salon so I can head to my next destination.

“Yeah, yeah, I hope I don’t regret this.” I hear her mumble as I head towards the door.

“Later, ladies.” I nod to Audrey and Heather and hear their farewells as I leave the salon and hop into my truck.

*****

Putting the truck in reverse and heading out onto the road, anxiety creeps up at what I’m about to do. I know I told Rachel that I can take care of a sick girl, and I can, but this is a make-or-break situation for me. Either I’ll win her over with my compassionate heart or I’ll creep her out and forever be known to her as Stalker Number One. What does a twenty-seven-year-old woman want when she’s sick? Does she just have a bad cold so she wants a warm blanket or is she in the constant state of puke and just needs a washcloth and a sturdy bucket? A guy needs to know these things and I hate to admit that I just don’t. If she could just make it easy on me and tell me she wants to me to hold her, let her snuggle up next to me and sleep, that could make this day a victorious one. I doubt I’ll get that lucky.

I pull into the nearest drug store and walk slowly down each aisle, hoping that my eye will catch something great that Savannah might really appreciate. I figure some Advil and Tylenol are good choices, along with plenty of Gatorade, just in case she’s feeling dehydrated. Since I don’t know which one is her favorite, I pick several different flavors. I steer clear of the lemon-lime one though because who drinks that shit? It tastes like cleaning solution…or at least what I think cleaning solution would taste like if I ever had to try it. I also spot a box of crackers and some Jell-O. When I was a kid, my grandmother used to tell me that there’s always room for Jell-O. I believed her until she tricked me into eating spinach by putting it into her lime Jell-O. Never again Grandma, never again. I quickly add a few more things (and by a few I mean a lot more things) to my basket. I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Whoa. Someone must be really sick. Are you sure you got everything?” The girl at the counter, the one with spiked purple hair and a nose ring hanging out of her nostril that I feel the urge to pull, pops her gum and smirks at me. I’m pretty sure she’s making fun of me for buying what looks like all of aisle six but fuck if I don’t give a rat’s ass what she thinks.

“Well Princess, why don’t you tell me since you seem so concerned with what I’ve chosen. She may be a little sick or she may be a lot sick. I won’t know that until I see her so back up the sarcasm truck and help a guy out, huh?”

And chew with your mouth closed. I’m sure your mother didn’t raise a cow.

Spikey cashier girl narrows her eyes at me and pops her gum one more time. She releases a loud sigh when she sees that I’m not in the mood for her sarcastic bullshit and chews on the side of her mouth for a moment while she surveys the products I’ve chosen. She grins and shakes her head, I think trying to stifle a laugh, and says, “A magazine.”

“A what?”

“A magazine.”

“A magazine? For what? What kind of magazine?”

“Look, when girls are sick they want to cuddle under a blanket and either sleep, watch TV, or read quietly. So go with something like
People
magazine.”

“Why
People
?” I’m intrigued by her logic.

She sighs again before she speaks. I think I’m putting a kink in her day, but I’m sort of proud of myself for it. “Okay look, if you get an
Inquirer
, she’ll assume you think she believes the shit they make up. If you get her
In-Style
magazine, she’ll assume you think she needs help in that department. Does she need help in that department?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned.”

“Okay well if you choose
Cosmopolitan,
you’re basically telling her you want to screw her and whether you do or you don’t, it’s just not the right choice to make for your first time.”

“Uh…this wouldn’t be my first time, Princess.” I smirk.

“You’ve purchased magazines for girls before?”

“No.”

“Well then it’s your first time Mr. Magazine Virgin, so just take my advice and get
People
magazine. Info about celebrities, stories about real people and it’s not fully loaded with Oprah-spiration.”

“Okay, okay. Just…give me whatever you think girls like.” I like this girl. She’s got spunk and definitely looks comfortable in her own shoes. Gotta give a girl props for that, but it’s time to get to my gir…to Seven. I gather up my bags and throw them on the seat beside me in the truck and head down the road towards Seven’s complex. She has no idea I’m doing this. The closer I get the more I feel those damn butterflies in my stomach. I don’t know why I’m letting her make me so nervous. The poor girl is sick as shit. She needs me.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

I gather up all the bags of stuff I purchased for my sick patient and head up to her apartment. Being that we’re in a small town, I don’t have to worry about getting buzzed in to her building, which is good because she would most likely tell me to go away. At some point she’ll at the very least have to open the door.

She’ll open the door right?

I can’t fuckin’ break in again.

I knock loudly three times in a row.