Unfinished Business (11 page)

Josie nods.

“Now we wait,” he says, reaching for the timer. “Seventeen minutes. I’ll be back. After my smoke.” He stops to yell over his shoulder, “Keep your hands off the foil, Josie!”

Josie drops her arms as she rolls her eyes and steps away from Riana’s ferocious fountain of hair. She falls into a chair and fixes me with an unsympathetic gaze. “Back to your interview with my sister.”

I glance over at Riana for help, but she’s busy talking on her cell. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s talking to Peter, the stupid boyfriend.

Josie is still on my case. “You don’t have to tell her anything personal. Just talk about your experience with the program so far.”

I toss the
InStyle
onto the counter behind me. “So now it’s a program?”

“You said you’d talk to her. She’ll pay for dinner. Free food! What do you have to lose? You don’t have a date tonight or anything. Right?”

I have nothing. “Do I get to pick the restaurant?”

“I don’t see what difference it makes. Text her. Tell her where and when to meet and she’ll be there.”

I hold in a sigh—I so know where this whole deal is going and as usual I am helpless to do anything but go along for the bumpy and twisted ride. At least I know how it will all end.

“Fine but you owe me.”

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be cool.”

She’s your sister, you go talk to her. No, I won’t say that.
It will be a free meal. If the bitch shows up.

* * * *

Two hours later, after deciding that beers with Josie’s sister would be easier to handle than food, I’m sitting at Anthony’s on Elizabeth, a few blocks away from Greektown. While I’m staring at the row of ancient metal lunch boxes running across the back bar, I wonder what the deal is with the guy who owns the place. No way did he grow up in Detroit. His accent is so thick that not even the knife of mundane conversation can cut through it. Maybe that’s why he’s trying so hard to capture the ultimate American experience.

Included in the dozens of boxes are The Love Boat, Sabrina the Teenage Witch—from the Archie comics, not the show. And my personal favorite—CHiPs. Who can resist hot cops on motorcycles? Even if their legs are so short they barely reach the ground. With those leather gloves, who cares? Too bad they never had an episode where Ponch and John went undercover at a roller rink. I’d love to see them gliding around in their brown uniforms.

Oh, that wouldn’t be undercover would it? Put them in blue jeans instead. With a dark-haired girl in a body-conscious black dress.

I pause and consider.

Nope. I’m still not ready to laugh that off. Yet.

I haul my backpack onto the bench I’m sitting on and dig for the professional looking notebook I’ve brought. If Josie’s sister shows up to find me carefully outlining my
ideas
for the Big Anniversary Celebration at North Pointe Farms, she’ll believe all the garbage I’m going to feed her about loving the challenge my work brings.

Surprise, surprise. I even have a couple of things written down.

“Hey, Hayley.” Josie’s sister slides onto the opposite bench. I’ll bet it took her at least twenty minutes to get her blonde hair to look like she just crawled out of bed. A
Motor City Times
tee that is so tight it could be a tattoo instead of a shirt is stretched across her chest.

My return smile is as fake as it is wide. It doesn’t matter though, because Josie’s sister isn’t looking at me.

Her arm snakes across the table and her hand bites my wrist. She moves close and says, “Oh, my, God, is that Kid Rock?”

Just as I am about to turn around to look, she whispers, “Don’t turn around! He’ll see us.”

I shrug. Whatever. Does anyone care about Kid Rock? I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, because Josie’s sister obviously cares. She’s leaning against the wooden back of the booth and the wording of her shirt is more prominent than it was a minute ago.

“Why don’t you go ask him?”
Maybe he’ll want to do an interview.

Her big eyes narrow and her gaze slides back over my shoulder. “I do have experience, you know. I’ve interviewed some local names.”

“Local names?” I sputter.
Who could that possibly be?
I imagine her scooting in to get all the Detroit gossip from Scotty while the two of them get drunk on Coors in the bathroom.

She scowls as she climbs out of the booth then heads to the bar.

With her gone, I’m free to spin around and gawk, which I do. There’s a ratty looking guy hunched over, gripping a long neck beer with one hand and a pack of Marlboro Reds in the other. He’s wearing a black Aerosmith T-shirt. But no hat.

“Stop staring.”

It’s okay for her?
I spin back around and pick up the pen I’d dropped across my professional looking note pad. “So. What are your questions?”

“Oh yeah, that.” She peels her attention off Kid Rock, takes a ladylike sip of her can of Bud, a feat in itself, then wiggles further into the booth. “Tell me about your date.”

“Don’t you want to know about how Josie got it—the program—all set up?”

She points to my scribbled notes. “Did you put something down for me? Because, well”—she frowns and her mouth puckers like it has a bad taste loitering within—“I do my own writing.”

I straighten and try to look important, successful and intelligent. “These are some
ideas
I’m working on for a promotion I’m in charge of at work.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Did I need her permission?

Out loud she reviews what she knows about Josie’s dating service, and I nod while she talks because she actually has all the details straight. She even gets the part about why girls don’t have to pay. “Why should they?” she finishes with a smile then snorts. “I wouldn’t.”

I have to know. “Have you watched any of the videos?”

Her perfectly waxed and penciled eyebrows lift. “I never considered it.”

The unsaid thing—that not only did I consider it, I did it—goes unsaid and her gaze wanders over my shoulder to watch Kid Rock. She mumbles something about whether or not it’s actually him or just some guy who drinks so much that he looks like an old rock star.

I can’t believe it—I’d rather be talking about Clifford than speculating over celebrities. I’ve never been into that whole making it to the big time thing. Maybe that’s why I spend my days temping at a stupid apartment complex instead of staring out of the window of a RenCen office. “Um…by the way…what did you want to ask me?”

She pulls herself back to our table. “Why you did it, for starters.”

Nothing like diving right in. ‘
In the video he looked like a hottie?’ No, not going to say that. ‘He had big hands?’ No, not that either.
“Are you going to use my name?”

“You don’t want me to?”

Why is she making me feel so stupid? No wonder Josie has such a hard time dealing with this girl.

“No, I don’t. I don’t think it would be good for Josie’s business.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

No surprise there.

“Okay.” She traces the top of her beer can with her bright pink nails. “I’ll keep your name out of it.”

“And Clifford’s?”

“That was his name? Your video date?” She jots something down in teeny tiny letters then looks up. “No real names.”

I’m not sure if I can trust her. What does it matter since I’m not going to tell her the truth anyway? “I did it because Josie asked me to and I thought it might be fun.”

“Where did you go? What did you do?”

I answer and provide a brief sketch of what we did, omitting the facts that he ate an entire pizza and that when we went skating I was wearing a dress. As I chatter along she asks a few questions but overall she stuns me by being a good listener.

After a while, I forget that she is writing stuff down.

But I never forget that she is an evil sponge woman waiting for me to slip up and hand her something she can use against either Josie or me—or even better, both of us.

A low rumble of laughter comes from the Kid Rock table. This time I look around without thinking about it. There are two more guys. The guys aren’t much to look at. But what can you expect in a place that smells like stale beer and has collectible lunch boxes circling the bar?

Josie’s sister is downing her beer. “I’m going to go over there and talk to them.”

I’m not sure I want to stick around to see this. “You going to ask him for an interview?”

She sets down the empty can and pulls her pink lipstick out of her purse. “I’ll start by telling him how much I loved that thing he did on the MTV awards show way back. To show him what a long-time fan I am. You know that performance, right? It’s on YouTube, ya know? That song about the kid who stuffed his pregnant girlfriend into the trunk of his car then drove off a cliff? That song, well it really was the beginning…um…new things…in music.”

I resist the urge to rub my ears. “
Stan
?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah, that’s the name of that song.” But as someone who made a careful study of all things Detroit before moving here, I know she has one very key fact wrong.

“What a powerful performance.”

Is this a test? Or is she really that out of it? “Do you pay much attention to the Detroit rock scene?”

She rolls her eyes.

For the first time that night a real smile moves onto my face. If she actually goes over there and tells Kid Rock how much she liked his performance of
Stan
she’s really going to make an ass of herself. And I could be there to see it. “You should do it. Really, as a writer you have to be willing to take chances.” I set aside my half-empty beer bottle, showing her I’m willing to go over there with her.

“You think so?”

Is that insecurity? Thinking of all the times Josie called me in tears, I slide out of the booth. “Come on.”

What do I care if we make fools of ourselves? It can’t be any worse than being booed off the stage by a bunch of drunks.

Josie’s sister slips out and brushes past me. Wearing a new attitude, she glides over to the table and tucks her little self in next to a weaselly looking guy wearing a Sponge Bob Square Pants T-shirt.

She smiles at him. I’m standing stupidly by the corner of the table wondering if this whole ‘embarrass your friend’s sister’ plan is such a good idea.

Josie’s sister is smiling at Sponge Bob and I’m seeing for the first time why she always gets what she wants when she wants it. He’s already shouting to the bartender for more beer and she’s laughing and tossing her hair around.

Me?

That’s right, I’m holding onto the side of the table.

Realizing I have two options. One—stand there like the dull chick who never wants to have fun. Or, two—play along. I grab a chair from another table and pop into the group like they were expecting me.

“What are you girls up to tonight?”

Josie’s sister points at me. “I’ve been asking Hayley here about a date she went on last night.”

One of the guys, not Sponge Bob and not Kid Rock, a long-haired guy wearing a biker leather chuckles. “Well,” he says, stretching the word out like a flavorless piece of gum. “Tell us the good parts.”

All eyes on me. How did this happen? I came over here to watch Josie’s sister make a fool of herself.

My choices—

a) Dash for the door.

b) Pretend I don’t speak English—
Hablar Espanol?

c) Chat with the rock dudes.

What the hell.
“We went roller-skating. You guys been lately?”

Sitting there watching the old rock dudes talk to Josie’s sister gets old fast. They say some stuff. She says some stuff. After I get really bored, I try to look cool and busy by messing with my phone. But who am I kidding? Facebook is dead, Twitter is dull and I am not going to Instagram a picture of me sitting at Anthony’s with Kid Rock and his ancient friends. It’d be so desperate.

I have to get out of there but after this evening I don’t want to be by myself. The whole conversation with Josie’s sister has me feeling lonely and lost.

So I text Nick. Asking him if he wants to meet at my place.

“Who’re you texting?” All of a sudden Josie’s sister is interested in me. “Another video date?”

That gets a round of laughter from the old men. The one in the leather starts to cough and gag then excuses himself to go outside for a smoke. The remaining two stare at me, actually expecting me to respond. Which, unfortunately, I do.

“Nah. Just this guy.”

“A friend with bennies?” Sponge Bob laughs at his own crudeness. “Your fuck buddy?”

Good God I hate everyone over thirty. Really. They should know better than to go out in public. My phone buzzes and to my complete surprise Josie’s sister snatches it out of my hand and reads Nick’s response aloud.

“‘Be there in thirty.’ Guess you better hurry, Hayley,” she says in an annoying sing-song voice.

I snatch the phone back and try to laugh it off, like I don’t care that she’s such a rude bitch. I wave goodbye and dash out.

* * * *

“It should just be about the sex,” I say to Nick. This way, I justify, I don’t have to tell him about Waylon.

We’re lying side by side, facing each other. I’m wearing yoga pants with no panties and a tank top. I can tell by the way he keeps looking at my nipples that he’s noticed there’s nothing underneath that either. He’s wearing jeans and a Wayne State T-shirt. His boots are by the doorway. One of his socks is in the middle floor. The other is next to the bed.

“What about the friendship?” he wants to know.

It’s a reasonable question, seeing as we’ve been friends long enough to know our friendship matters to both of us.

“I can’t imagine not being friends, so the friendship stays. I was thinking that would be…you know…something on the side.”

“Gee. Thanks.” He rolls onto his back and the edge of his T-shirt twists up so I can see the pale skin of his stomach and the fine line of hair leading to his dick. He shoves his hand behind his neck and looks upward. “When you put it that way it sounds so…”

“Well thought out?”