Stay With Me (30 page)

“Get… the… fuck off me!” he growled, and I mashed his face in the dirt for making me run. And busting up my face.

“Good to see you, Dom. Maybe this time the charges will stick? Don’t think Mama will bail you out this time.”

He roared with fury, and the door opened at my back. We both froze.

I swung around to see his mother silhouetted in the doorway, housecoat, pink rollers, and all. She had a frying pan in one hand that made my eyes go wide. Oh,
Christ on a crutch
, the last thing I needed was a frying pan upside the head.

“Ma’am, I’m just—”

“Get him off my lawn,” she instructed.

“Mom!” Dominic shouted.

She flinched but shook the frying pan threateningly. “This is what was waiting for you on this side of the door. Dominic, you face your consequences. We all have to face our consequences, my baby.” Her face crumpled a bit, and suddenly she was cradling the pan to her ample bosom. “And then you come back here.”

Her words seemed to take all the fight out of him, and he allowed me to haul him to his feet. I led him away to my truck and knew she watched the entire time. He didn’t speak as I opened the driver’s door, but his grimace said it all. I wasn’t going to give him the chance to run by putting him in the passenger seat and circling around the truck.

“After you.” I gestured, and he rolled his eyes before scrambling in.

He got stuck on the gearshift, and I gave him a push, waiting as he wormed his way across the console. My phone rang, and I clicked the Bluetooth. “Yeah.”

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey yourself.” Hearing Jordan’s voice just reminded me what I was missing to pick up this lug, and I gave him another push. Not so gentle this time. He grunted and finally fell into the passenger’s seat. I knuckled the lock and the child safety locks and clambered in. “Have you left yet, or do I still have a prayer in heaven of seeing you?”

“Already through security,” he said and laughed as I groaned. “Trust me, this isn’t what I wanted either. Did you get your guy?”

“Got him,” I said, starting up the truck to get the hell out of Dodge before it got any darker. “I’m a little banged up, though.”

“
You
?” Dominic gave me a surly look. “You gave me a black eye!”

“I don’t remember doing that,” I told him. “Oh yeah, and shut up. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Jordan was clearly trying to stifle amusement on the other end. “I wish I could tend to your wounds. And everything else.”

“What would you do?” I asked, pulling into the busy traffic carefully.

“I would kiss them to make them feel better.” His voice went low, almost whisper quiet. “Then I’d suck on you to make you feel great.”

“
God
. How much to buy a ticket to New York again?”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m due two weeks’ vacation after this, and I’m taking it. Maybe going someplace where clothing is optional? Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“You mean our bedroom, dear?”

I was gratified to hear his laugh again. “Be careful. I left my car and took a taxi, so you can use it instead of the rust bucket queen. Water my plants, dammit. You always forget. They are
not
plastic. Don’t erase my shows from the DVR—I
will
know and you
will
pay. And… I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah. Me too.” My throat was
not
tight. “I’ll see you in a week.”

I clicked off and drove, silently. The joy of catching the elusive jumper was suddenly eclipsed by loneliness.
Get a grip, Mac. He’s not even gone yet.
The depth of my feeling was scarier than I could express verbally.
But he will be. And not just to New York.

“Dude, is that like your boyfriend or something?”

I forgot how loud my Bluetooth was sometimes. I gave Dominic a glare. “Yeah. So?”

“Gross. You don’t fight like a queer.”

“You don’t look like you’d enjoy another black eye. And yet here we are.”

He huddled next to his door sullenly, but I didn’t care. This douche bag made me miss my last fucking for a week. He was lucky I didn’t dropkick him to Chicago. I switched on the radio to something low and classical to distract myself. Reminded me of Jordan—he was so fucking classy sometimes, and I loved to tease him about it. Drinking wine and playing piano and all manner of things I’d previously laughed at but now found kind of sexy. Everything he did was kind of sexy. I shifted in my seat, remembering him on the bed, losing himself to the rhythm of my body. Man, a week was a long time.

I
DANCED
into Drew’s office, ignoring both the fact that he was on the phone and the hand he put up to shoo me.

“Yeah, uh-huh. I’ll tell him. No, he just came in.”

I waved our check under his nose. Stuck out my tongue. Our finder’s fee had finally come through, and I was beyond proud. After all, I’d risked life and limb (and wrenched my knee pretty good) bringing that goon down.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later,” he said, scowling at me. “He won’t go away.”

“Nope,” I said in a singsong manner. Did the Roger Rabbit beside his desk. When he finally hung up, I stuck the check under his nose again. “And you thought I couldn’t get him.”

“If I didn’t think you could get him, I wouldn’t have sent you.” He tried to take the check, and I held it back.

“This is worth a vacation, don’t you think?”

He growled, grabbing for the check again. When I wouldn’t relinquish my bounty, he sighed. “I guess.”

I beamed and held out the check, which he snatched. “Two weeks, my friend.”

He stuck the check in our bank drop envelope and tucked it back into his drawer. I watched as he locked the drawer and pocketed the keys.

“You think it’s too soon for vacationing together?” I asked, plopping down in one of his guest chairs.

The look he sent me was unreadable. “Not for me to say.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

“True.” He looked at me so long that I began to get nervous.

“What? What is it?”

“So if I knew something that you probably needed to know… but didn’t
want
to know, you’d want me to tell you, right?”

Oh, jeez.
When did anything that started that way end up good? My eyes felt fixed, staring at the spot slightly past his shoulder. I took a deep breath and let it out. Measured. Calm.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d want to know.”

He sighed. “That was my cousin. You know, Javier? He owns that fancy restaurant downtown.”

“Yeah, I think I met him a few times,” I said slowly. “Why?”

“You need to get down to his restaurant.” He took out a pen and scribbled something on a Post-it.

“Now?”

“Right now,” he confirmed.

“I… I don’t even know where it is.”

“I was debating on when to tell you. Or whether I should tell you at all. I wasn’t sure you’d even want to know. But I love you, and I don’t want you to get hurt. So… here.”

I stared at the Post-it stuck to his outstretched thumb. I didn’t want to take it. I had forgotten to finish that statement: I don’t know where it is and I don’t
want
to. Because there was only one reason he could be sending me there.

I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut against the sight of the offensive yellow note. Cheery little bitch. I was
not
one of my clients, and I trusted Jordan. More importantly, I knew what it meant when I started checking up on him. When I doubted he was exactly where he said he’d be. If I took that Post-it, our relationship was already over.

“This is typical of you, Drew,” I said. “You’re always after me about love—believe in love, everyone’s not a cheater. The moment I actually give it a whirl, you’re spying on him to prove me wrong!”

“I was
not
spying,” he said, sniffing in a wounded manner. “My cousin called me and told me there was something there you should see. Actually, he snapped his fingers and said, ‘Gurrrl, he’d better get down here right now and see what that fine boy is up to.’” He shook his head. “My cousin is a bit… a bit….”

“Flaming,” I filled in. “The word you’re looking for is flaming.”

I sighed, running my hand through my hair, raking it into my eyes in the process. Pulled hard on the ends. They were more brown than blond again—I hadn’t been surfing that much lately. No, I’d been holed up in my dream world pretending everything could be infinitely unspoiled and flawless.

“I trust him,” I said, rubbing a hand across my eyes tiredly.

When I opened them, he was standing in front of me. He pressed the Post-it into my hand. “You know the old saying: Trust, but verify.”

T
HE
RED
-
CHECKERED
pattern of my father’s sofa was as familiar as a treasured baby blanket, but it was unquestionably hideous. It was also obviously chosen by a man who didn’t know how to color coordinate a damn thing. To be fair, I didn’t either, but I knew where to find a Rooms To Go.

I ruffled the torn fabric on the armrest absently. I’d had juice on this couch, watched cartoons on Saturday morning, and spent one long summer as an indolent teen lying on it. Usually with one arm thrown across my face to ward off the sun, vampire-style. My dad would wander through every now and again and threaten my life if I didn’t get up and do something. A small smile crossed my lips, and I smoothed the fabric down. It would be Case’s turn soon, and he was well on his way to Disgruntled Teenville.

I could feel my dad giving me side glances every so often, but I didn’t try to engage him in conversation. I crossed my legs, propping one sneakered foot on my left knee. I didn’t know why I had even come, really. Maybe because somewhere deep inside I associated our childhood home with my safety net, home base in a hectic life of “tag, you’re it.” A place to come and reset. Reflect. At least I could if my dad would stop trying to make random conversation.

As if he could read my thoughts, he spoke on cue. “You like the new TV?”

“I do.” I tapped my fingers on my Converse sneaker.

“They installed it, like you said. I put the old one in the backyard. I’m going to fix it one of these days, as soon as I get the picture tube.”

“I hear you.”
Tap
.

“Anything specific you want to watch?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Wonder where your brother got to with our pizza?”

“No idea.”
Tap, tap
.

He flicked through the channels again, and I sighed. I’d made a mistake coming here searching for peace of mind. Ever since Drew had decided to become a big Buttinsky, peace didn’t exist. I’d wanted to turn on him. They always say don’t shoot the messenger, but I think that’s more of a suggestion than a rule. Like a “use by” date or a price tag at a flea market. So I would still be within my rights to cut off his ponytail with scissors for intruding on my rosy bubble.

He’d called me from the office, wanting to know if I’d made it to the restaurant. I had. He’d wanted to know if I’d seen them yet. I had.

Or to be more specific, “I’m not blind,” I’d snapped. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“There is none so blind as he who will not see,” he’d murmured.

Refusing to answer his little proverb or rise to the bait was my only action. That and hoping he’d have a big slice of shut-the-fuck-up pie. No such luck.

“I knew this would happen,” he’d said.

I’d shrugged, forgetting that he was on the phone and had no visual on my dismissive action. “So he’s meeting her for dinner. You and I have had dinner. We’re not sleeping together.”

“Where did he say he was again?”

“Out of town. New York. I guess he got back early.

“And hasn’t been home. Because you’re there.”

“I get it, okay? But he doesn’t have to account for every single second of his life to me.” And I’d watched Jordan lift Rachel’s hand to his lips and kiss it. I’d repeated softly, “I get it.”

They’d laughed at something together, and they’d looked like a beautiful couple, a matched set—her gleaming cap of dark hair close to his. He didn’t appear to be afraid to kiss her hand in public.

Drew’s voice had been unusually hesitant. “You mad at me?”

“No.
No
. I’m mad at….” I’d taken one last look at the laughing couple. “I’m mad at myself.”

Because despite all my protests to the contrary, I’d started feeling hopeful. Stupid and hopeful.

“—Blu-ray,” my dad finished, and I looked at him blankly.

“Huh?”

“You know, that DVD player has been skipping lately. I’m probably going to replace it with a unit with Blu-ray.”

I didn’t know whether it was my frustration with Drew or my anger at Jordan that made me so cranky, but I snapped. “I don’t want to talk about that damned TV anymore. Or any f… flipping appliances.” I caught the
fuck
and aborted it just in time. I may be an adult, but there were just some things I couldn’t say to my dad. Not without catching hell about it.

He blinked. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it.”

“I’m just… not in the mood, okay?”

“Okay.” He peered at me for a moment and went back to his TV.

I felt like a jerk.

This was how Joe Williams communicated. This is what we talked about. Any topics more in-depth were few and far between. I looked at him.
Really
looked. And I wondered if my mother had ever gotten tired of communicating through appliance repair. If she’d felt this unreachable gap, filled with all the unspoken things she wished she could say.

My jaw firmed. It was no excuse. Relationships were made to be fluid, constantly changing entities that twisted and twined, growing stronger. More solid. Capable of withstanding a category-five gale on Florida’s worst day. What was it that made people just
give up
on you?

It surprised me to see the crow’s-feet around his eyes. Wrinkles in places they hadn’t been before. And when he flicked the button on the remote, his finger trembled. It was just a small tremor, something I was one hundred percent sure he wasn’t aware he did. I gazed at his hands, fixated on that tremble. He was my dad, still larger than life, but he was a person. A man. And my mother had been a woman. She’d made her mistakes, and I didn’t forgive her. But they weren’t the end-all, be-all for how things worked in a relationship. Not my relationship. I wasn’t ready to give up on Jordan just yet.