The Redemption (5 page)

Her head remains down, focused on finding her size in a stack of jeans. “I like him too. He’s always been cool. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He got his hair cut.”

She looks up, so I look down. “Really? I liked the medium length on him. He could pull it off.”

“It’s shorter. Short now.”

When I look up again, she’s staring at me. “Why are we having a full-blown conversation about Dex’s hair?”

I shrug it off. “No reason. I just saw him this morning about some contracts. Just making chitchat.”

“Oookaay,” she replies like I’m crazy before returning her attention to the clothes in front of her. “The boys are good?”

“They’re great. Dating much?”

“Too much. It sucks. Be glad you’ve decided to stay single.”

My hand stops on a blue dress. “I didn’t decide to stay single.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that since… well, you know his death—”

“You can say his name. Cory.”

There’s an awkward pause that I would rather avoid. I’m glad she doesn’t leave it to build. “Since Cory’s death, you’ve remained unattached. You’re strong like that.”

“We’re all tested in life. I just got tested in the worst of ways. Anyway, I haven’t chosen to stay single. I just haven’t dated.”

“Do you think you’re ready?”

“I’m not sure. How will I know?”

“Maybe if you start getting that feeling, the tingly one deep inside when you meet someone.” She comes over and puts her hand on my shoulder. “If you are ready, I’ll help anyway I can. If you’re not, that’s fine too. You know what’s best for you.”

“Thanks. I’m just…” I sigh. “I don’t know what I want.”

She nods toward the door. “Come on. Let’s cut the shopping short and get a drink.”

While sitting at the café inside Fred Segal, I smile. “We should have just started here.”

She laughs. “I thought you actually wanted to go shopping. Next time just say you want a drink.”

We order salads and a bottle of white wine before sitting back and easing into talk of our lives. After taking two sips, her hands go into the air, and she continues the story she’s been retelling, “So I told them, ‘Honey, the 90’s have to leave before they can make a comeback.’ I got the job and she burned the valances that afternoon.”

“Beverly Hills is a lot different from Hollywood style-wise.”

Lara is an interior decorator and has a huge celebrity clientele. I’ve watched her grow from working out of her spare bedroom to buying a large house with an entire floor dedicated to her business and five employees. She’s very animated when she talks, passionate about what she does. “Totally. In Hollywood, they like clean and modern. The celebrities I’ve worked for all give me carte blanche. They’re adventurous. Not so much in Beverly Hills. This new project will be fun though, something different for me to tackle.”

“Let’s toast to that. To your new project.”

Our glasses clink right as our salads are served.

She smothers the lettuce in dressing, very un-L.A. like, and asks, “I have a job in New York next week. Want to come with me. We can move our ‘shopping’ to the other coast.”

Dex’s words replay in my mind. “You’re the second one to mention going to New York next week.”

“Oh really? Who was the other?”

“Dex. They’re playing there. He said I should come.”

Dragging her fork through the vegetables on her plate, she lowers her gaze. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Oh nothing.” Her eyebrows go up and her eyes go wide, her expression hopeful. “So is that a yes?”

“It might be fun. Maybe I can get Cory’s mom, Janice, to watch the boys for a few days. They’d love that. She spoils them rotten.”

“That’s what Grandma’s are supposed to do.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have her living so close by.”

“So that settles it. They get Grammie and we paint the Big Apple red. Yay! It will be awesome,” she adds with another tap of her glass against mine.

My thoughts wander to Dex a lot over the next few days, but why? It’s Dex, after all. He sleeps with everyone he can and has a temper to rival the titans. He smokes too much and drinks heavily. He lives off junk food and is moody. He swears too much but has a wicked sense of humor. His new haircut emphasizes a strong jaw that sometimes looks a little too sexy when it has a day or two’s growth on it. His eyes are the most unique color, so close to caramel, but more soulful. Wait…

What? Why am I thinking of him? When did I start thinking of him? Or like the little sweet nothings we’ve been sharing? This is something that’s crept up on me when I wasn’t looking.

I drop my head to the mattress and cover myself under the pillow. No. I refuse to think of him that way. But I can’t help it. Somehow over the last week, things have changed, shifted into something different, something new, something exciting.

And then the tingles began…

I know what it is, recognizing the feeling that’s sneaking in without my permission. And now I wonder if these small gestures and occurrences aren’t so random. I felt safe in his arms. The warmth between us is new, but I felt safe and wanted. It’s the
wanted
that scares me most. Liking the thought that Dex might want me leaves me restless and I roll over, hiding beneath the covers

Dear Cory,

It never bothered me before, but now I hate flying. My therapist… I know. I know. Yes, I have a therapist. I think that officially makes me an Angeleno now. Anyway, she once told me that it was a natural fear since you died in a plane crash. But she also gave me the statistics of car crashes, death by mosquitoes, and lightning to help put it in perspective. Not sure if it worked since I shudder just thinking about mosquitoes and hide under my covers during storms. I’m in my car too much and have a false sense of safety there
.

I have a flight to see the band in NYC tomorrow, so I should get some sleep. I miss you.

XO.

My hands are sweating and my knee is bouncing, anxiety getting the best of me. I wish I had something to take to calm me, but for now, the shot of whiskey will have to do. Staring out the window, I try to think of happy things like my kids, the beautiful weather California has been having, and try not think about plane crashes, mosquitoes, or cars. Adjusting my neck pillow, I move to lean back in my chair and turn up my music. I close my eyes and lose myself in the music.

Once I arrive at the hotel, the same one where the guys are staying, I shut the door to my room and flop back on the bed. Not even five minutes later, a light knock on the door makes me sit up and go. Expecting the bellhop, I open the door wide, then walk back inside, signaling for him to come in. “Just put the suitcases there please.”

“Sorry, no luggage. Just a shit ton of baggage.”

Surprised, I turn back to find Dex standing in the middle of the doorway. I quirk a grin and reply, “Well, get your ass and all your baggage in here anyway.”

As he walks by, he says, “I wanted to see how you’re doing?” I’m sure my face is showing my confusion, his unexpected concern taking me by surprise. He laughs. “I know. I know. I have this tough exterior, but believe it or not, I have a heart buried deep down in here somewhere. I just haven’t felt it in a while.”

“Well, I hope you do soon because I’d hate to think of you going through life without a heartbeat.”

“A lifeline.”

I nod.

He asks, “So how are you?”

“I’m good.”

His eyes lock with mine, holding me steady just through a look. “No, how are you really?”

Tilting my head, I remark, “I appreciate it, but I’m not sure where all the concern is coming from.”

“Just a friend checking on a friend.”

I sit in a chair by the window and start swiveling back and forth. “Are we friends?”

“Are we not?” With his eyebrows up, he seems genuinely surprised.

“Sometimes, I’m not sure.”

“We’re friends, Rochelle. I’m sorry if I gave the impression we weren’t.”

With all of this apologizing going on, I take a chance. “I’m sorry for the past stuff.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I am though.” This is the most we’ve ever broached the topic and the whole conversation catches me off-guard. I used to have planned rebuttals, but today, with our defenses down, I don’t worry about those and just go with it.

He looks around as if searching for an escape in case he needs one, but it’s just us here in this hotel room with one door in and the same door out. No other escapes, not even the luxury of an interruption.

“I wanted to know if you wanted to go out after the show… with the band?”

“Yeah, that will be fun. My friend Lara will be with me tonight.”

“Cool.” He nervously shoves his hands in his pockets like a seventeen-year-old. The vulnerability on his face is quite charming. “I should go.”

“I appreciate the welcome wagon.”

“No problem,” he says with a short chuckle. “I’ll catch ya later.”

“At the show. Break a leg.”

“I’m not superstitious.”

“I am,” I reply.

“Good to know.” He opens the door and the bellhop is standing there with his hand raised as if he was about to knock. Handing the kid some money as he passes, Dex says, “That’s for her.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As the bellhop carries my case inside the room, I’m left standing there baffled by what just happened. Dex has always been hard to figure out, but this time, he’s near impossible.