Soft Shock (26 page)

It was a beautiful
day in early April; the freezing cold of the spring so far had abated for the
time being. So he took the top off the jeep and drove to Mom’s house with the
wind blowing through his hair. He took the long way because it was nice to have
a few moments to
himself
. No wedding planning, no
responsibilities, just him and the jeep.

When Owen
walked into the house, he had to do a double take. Mom and Jeremy were sitting
together on the couch, laughing about something. Jeremy looked cleaner and more
put together than he had in weeks. He wore a white button down shirt with black
slacks and black shoes. It almost looked like some sort of uniform. Could it
be? Could Jeremy possibly have a job?

“Owen!” Mom
jumped up and grabbed him. “So glad you’re here!”

“Yeah. Your
message sounded urgent.”

“It is. Your
brother has excellent news.”

“I’m moving
back in,” Jeremy said. “And before you get all worked up over it, Ma and I have
worked out a plan. I’m going to be paying rent.” Jeremy grinned. “Ronnie got my
old short order cook job back at the restaurant for me.”

Owen walked
over to his brother and hugged him. “Excellent news. I’m so happy to hear that,
bro.”

“I finally got
some sense talked into me, I guess.” Jeremy pulled back from the hug. “Now if
only we could get some talked into you.”

“What do you
mean?”

“I don’t know
about this wedding, man,” Jeremy said.

Mom nodded her
agreement. “That girl is stuck up, and she doesn’t treat you well at all.”

“You’re my
mom,” Owen said. “You’re not supposed to think any girl is good enough for me.”

“Then why do I
like Marci so much?”

Owen’s heart
staggered under the weight of the unexpected mention of her name.

“Yeah, I saw
her the other day,” Jeremy said.

Owen looked
over at his brother sharply.

“When I went
over to see Ronnie. Funny, when I said your name, she got that kind of funny,
crumpled up look on her face that you had just now. And she tried to hide it
right away just like you’re doing.”

“You don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“You wish I
didn’t.”

“So when did
you start back at the restaurant?” Owen asked.

Jeremy just
laughed and shook his head. Yeah, Owen couldn’t blame him.

Chapter Thirty

Marci paced the
length of her room Thursday night. She had to do something with all this pent
up energy, or she would go insane. Lil had come into class earlier that
evening, looking like she’d been crying. Lil had signed up for her TA section
for the second part of the intro to philosophy class that spring. Marci had
gone over to ask if everything was okay and see if there was anything she could
do. Lil had a fight with her boyfriend, and he moved out.

Of course,
comforting Lil made her think of Owen. Owen and Lil were friends, she knew. Lil
had brought Owen to class with her once last semester for a makeup session. She’d
replayed that class over and over in her mind all evening after that. Every
time she looked in Lil’s direction, she thought of sneaking glances at Owen on
that rainy night last fall. Wondering what he’d be like in bed. And now,
fortunately or unfortunately, she knew. And that was done.

Marci was
supposed to be deciding now if she was going to go out with Ronnie and Sadie
tonight. If she went out, she could try to get some from some ready and willing
guy she was sure to find. Or she could stay home, throw herself into her work,
and finish the semester strong—maybe have her best semester ever and she
wasn’t ever a slouch in these things. Then she could go out to Cali, see her
mom and put in some obligatory face time, see Tyler who she definitely missed,
and then find some guy out there to take care of her needs all in one fell
swoop.

Marci’s phone
vibrated against her desk while she was still deliberating. She walked over and
picked it up. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured. Putting the phone to her ear,
she said, “Hi, Tyler. How are things going with the show?” She jumped right in,
hoping that he would get too busy talking about himself to quiz her.

“Hello my
darling Marci,” he said. “Things are going well with filming the first few
episodes, and I’ve heard it’s generating buzz on social media already.”

“That’s because
you’re in it, superstar.”

Tyler laughed.
“You’re always good for an ego boost.”

They talked
about the show for a while, and then the conversation turned in the direction
she’d dreaded.

“You can’t stay
caged up in that room forever,” Tyler said. “Ronnie says you hardly come out of
there.”

“That’s not
true.”

“Where are you
right now?”

“I’m working.”

“It’s Thursday
night after your class. You rarely if ever work on teaching nights. Or at least
that’s the way it was before.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m worried
about you. So yes, I’m going to harass you until either tell me what’s wrong,
admit I’m right about Owen, or go out and start living your life again.”

“Okay, fine,”
Marci
said, making her decision at that moment. “I’ll go out
tonight. Happy?”

“I will be once
I have a report from a reliable source that you actually did.”

“Okay. Deal.”

He dragged out
an exaggerated sigh.

“What is it
now?” Marci asked with a laugh to cover up the exasperation she felt.

“Life would be
so much easier if you’d just admit you’re in love with that boy.”

“Love?” Marci
shrieked into the phone. “Who in the hell ever said anything about love?”

“Everybody can
see it but you, and the only reason you can’t is you’re blinding yourself to
it.”

“I have to go,”
Marci said. “If you want me to go out so badly, I have to get ready.”

“Bye,
sweetheart.”

“Bye.” Marci
swore softly as her phone slipped out of her hands and landed on the floor. She
was fumbling around, all clumsy, and for what? She bent down to retrieve her
phone and saw a corner of something gray under her bed. She peered closer,
trying to figure it out. That’s when she remembered that she’d kicked Owen’s
sweatshirt under her bed a few weeks ago.

She looked down
at the phone then over at the sweatshirt.
Back at the phone.
Then she scrolled through her contacts and tapped on one of them without
looking at the screen. She couldn’t watch her idiocy in action. Damn her poor
impulse control.

She held the
phone to her ear, taking shaky breaths as she listened to it ring. She could
hang up now, but he’d know who it was and might call her back and that would be
embarrassing. Even if he didn’t, he’d know she tried to call. So the damage was
done. She might as well see if he’d pick up. But what would she say if he did?
Maybe she’d let the words rush out, not think about it. The way she’d dialed
his number without allowing herself to think about it. Okay, this was a bad
idea. She promised herself that if the call went to voicemail, she would hang
up without leaving a message.

Damn.

“Hello,”
answered a low, sexy voice she’d missed so much. She remembered that voice
saying her name into her ear while he—

“Owen,” she
said, forcing herself to break away from dangerous thoughts. “Hi.”

“Marci. Your
number came up on the caller I.D., but I still didn’t expect…I don’t know what
I expected, actually.”

Me
neither
,
was on the tip of her tongue, but
instead, she said, “What are you up to?”

“Just out with
Kristin,” he said. “I ducked into a pizza place to answer the call,” he added
hurriedly.

She winced. Of
course he was with his fiancé. But had he wanted her to know that he wanted
privacy for their call? No, she couldn’t think that way. Thinking that way
would only cause trouble. “I just wanted to wish you well and say goodbye the
right way,” she said. And just like that, she punked out. “Because I don’t
think I ever handled any of this the right way.”

“Handled what
the right way?” Owen questioned.

Marci closed
her eyes and shook her head. “Just, goodbye, Owen. I hope she makes you as
happy as you deserve to be. She’d better. You’re such a good guy.
One of the best.
I’ve never met anyone so genuinely…you
almost…”
Made me believe some guys can be
worth the trouble of a relationship
. “I just mean you deserve everything
you want in this life. And she’s what you always wanted, right?”

There was a
long pause on the other end during which she could hear voices she presumed
belonged to the customers in the pizza place. Owen cleared his throat. “Yeah,”
he said finally.

She didn’t know
why—she didn’t know why because Tyler was wrong, she wasn’t in love with
him, she couldn’t have been stupid enough to let herself fall in love—but
she felt a stab in her heart at his answer to that question. She opened her
mouth but didn’t know what to say.

“Are you sure
that’s all you want to say?” Owen asked.

“Yeah.” She
wanted to keep hearing his voice, but at some point she had to let him go. She
banged her fist against her thigh a few times and struggled with the words that
wanted out of her mouth so badly. “Goodbye,” was the word she finally settled
on. “Good luck. To both of you.”

“Yeah. You,
too.” Owen disconnected after that, but she continued to hold her phone to her
ear.

When she
finally pulled it away, she shook her head. “Enough of this.” She marched over
to her closet in search of her shortest skirt and her new blood red pumps.

Ronnie and
Sadie dragged Marci to a club they liked downtown. Marci danced for a while,
but she wasn’t feeling it. Eventually, she made her way over to the bar under
the pretense of ordering shots for everyone. Her real agenda was getting a
moment to herself to collect her thoughts.

Of course she
hadn’t told either of them about her moment of weakness during which she’d
called Owen. She was still trying to figure out why she’d done it. She racked
her brain, but she couldn’t come up with an explanation. She’d been tempted to
call ever since whatever they had had crashed and burned in New Jersey, sure,
but she’d always been able to resist that temptation.
Until
tonight.

“Two Patron
shots,” said a familiar voice.

She whipped her
head around to the right. The moment she looked over and saw an uncomfortably
familiar face, her heart dropped to her feet as she worried Owen wouldn’t be
too far behind him.

“Dante,” she
said.

He squinted
over at her. “Marci.” He was clearly surprised to see her as well. “You like
this place, too?”

“My friends
do.” She gestured toward the dance floor. “Are you with your…friends tonight?”
she asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.

He chuckled.
“If you’re asking if Owen is here with me, no. He and Kristin are in New York
this weekend. Better that than her at the apartment. I never really liked that
girl.”

Marci nodded,
and an awkward silence spread between them. Dante and Marci had never really
been friends. In fact, she’d gotten the vibe that he didn’t like her whenever
she’d come over to se Owen even though she’d never done anything to him that
she knew of.

“You know, I
was skeptical of you at first,” Dante said. “But he always seemed to be in a
good mood when he was around you. He’s hardly ever in a good mood now.”

“Oh.” Marci
wasn’t sure what to say to that one.

“I guess I
don’t need to understand what y’all two had, I guess it’s none of my business.”
Dante thanked the bartender for his shots, dragged them across the counter, and
paid and tipped generously. He looked over at Marci again with a slow smile. “I
guess you made him happy, though, didn’t you?”

Made. Past
tense.
So, so past tense.
“I don’t know.”

Dante nodded.
“You’re all right with me.”

“Thanks I
guess,” Marci
said,
bewildered at whatever it was
that’d just happened.

“What you
drinking? I got it.”

“Jameson
shots,” Marci said. “Three.” She held up three fingers. And man could she use a
drink. Everywhere she went tonight, stifling thoughts and reminders of Owen
seemed to follow. Dante signaled the bartender. And Jameson was the beginning
of the end of Marci’s night.

Marci crawled
into Sadie’s car around two in the morning and collapsed onto the backseat.
Ronnie got into the passenger seat. Sadie, who was D.D., climbed into the
driver’s side stone cold sober.

“I
must
be drunk if I’m willingly let Sadie
drive me anywhere,” Marci called from the backseat. Sadie was probably the
worst driver Marci had ever known.

“Psht. I’m a
good driver,” Sadie said.

“It’s a good
thing you’re sober. ‘Cause some cop is bound to pull us over and give you a
breathalyzer when he sees you weaving all over the road like you know you do at
ninety miles an hour.”

Ronnie
snickered from the passenger seat and chimed in with her own commentary on
Sadie’s driving skills—or lack thereof.

“I need food!”
Marci shouted from the backseat. “Where are we going to eat?”

“Eat?” Sadie
asked. “You’re going to eat a real meal at midnight?”

“Two in the
morning. Come on now. I’m the drunk one, and I can tell time,” Marci said.
“Yes, I’m going to eat a real meal at two in the A.M. Ever hear of a little
place called Taco Bell? Or IHOP?
Or Waffle House?
Should I go on?”

Ronnie started
shouting her vote for pizza.

“Drunk food!”
Marci chanted over Ronnie’s shouts.

“At least y’all
made it to the car on your own.” Sadie laughed as she said it. Shaking her
head, she put the car into reverse. After jerking backward out of her parking
space, she shifted to drive and tore out of the parking lot so quickly she
nearly tossed Marci to the floor.
“See what I mean about the driving?” Marci laughed as she braced a hand against
the floor. “You’re gonna kill me. I’m not even wearing a seatbelt back here.”

“Whose fault is
that?”

“I’m not the
one who can’t drive.”

“Right now you
are.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What am I
going to do with you two?” Sadie asked.

“You know you
love us,” Marci said.

“That’s why I
put up with you.”

Marci grinned.
What else did she need? She had good friends. And soon she was going to have a
belly full of pancakes.
Or pizza maybe.
Something hot and delicious in any case.
Her life was good.
No need for complications.

#

Later that
night, after
drunk
food had been procured, Sadie
dropped Marci and Ronnie off at their apartment. Marci crashed onto the couch
with a greasy, white paper bag, and Ronnie sprawled out on the floor in front
of it, a similar bag held loosely in one of her outstretched hands.

“You know,”
Marci said. “I have made a damned fool out of myself in the past for so-called
love.”

Ronnie pulled
herself to a sitting position and peered up at Marci. “Oh yeah?” Ronnie asked.
The surprised look on Ronnie’s face was to be expected. Marci didn’t often go
into stories about her past boyfriends—all two of them.

“Well, high
school is one thing. You can chalk that up to not knowing any better. But I
should’ve known better the second time around,” Marci said.

“Shoulda known
better about what?” Ronnie said.

“I had this
boyfriend in college. Loved the hell out of him. Long story short, he fed me a
bunch of lies I believed. And then he left me for someone else. I basically
tried everything short of camping out on his doorstep to get him back. It was
pathetic. Clearly he had moved on, and I just couldn’t wrap my mind around
that. I was determined I could get him back if I just tried harder—like
getting him to come back to me was some test I could study for.” Marci shook
her head, disgusted with herself all over again. “I hate that feeling. The
hopeless feeling of knowing there’s nothing you can do to get That One back. I
never want to risk being in that place again.” Not even with Owen.
Especially with Owen.
She sensed that if she let herself go
completely where he was concerned, and he left her, she’d never recover.