Unfinished Business (25 page)

There’s no way around it. Tony is weird. Flat out weird.

Chapter Thirty-One

Bad Stuff Does Happen to Good Girls

“Anybody go by yet?” Josie calls as she trots toward me.

I step off the curb into the road to stand beside her. We squint into the sun, trying to spot anything that looks like someone on a bicycle. “Haven’t seen anybody, yet.”

Without talking, we move back to the curb, hoping that Riana will flash by soon and put an end to our awful waiting.

Josie smokes while I check my phone a couple of times. Has Caroline read the article yet? Is Riana going to get past Peter—literally and figuratively? About the time I think I’m going to be sick from nerves, Josie grabs my arm. “I see somebody!”

We lean forward waiting and watching the blurry dot get bigger. And Bigger.

“It’s not.”

Josie can’t say it and I can hardly think it. Riana has a blue bike and wears a blue helmet. The bike rushing toward us is black and the rider, who is pedaling like mad, is wearing a black helmet.

That asshole Peter doesn’t even glance our way when he speeds by.

I grit my teeth and resist the urge to throw a rock at his back, which is now shrinking as he zooms west, toward the finish line.

Three more bikers glide past.

“Wait, here—”

“It’s her!”

We both shout and cheer as Riana rolls toward us. Her legs are pumping hard and her shoulders are low, still she manages to glance our way as she zips past. The determination slanting across her eyebrows makes my heart swell with bittersweet pride.

Josie and I shout and howl until she disappears down the road.

By that time, several other riders are streaming past so we cheer and wave them on too. Some of the other cyclists wave when we shout, “Only three more miles!”

After the next crush of riders flows past, Josie and I start jogging through North Pointe. We get about half way through the buildings, when I spot Caroline come bustling out of the clubhouse.

Usually the sight of her is simply irritating but something about the angle of her back, the way she’s walking… Her face, it’s not right.

I grab Josie’s arm and pull her aside so we’re hiding behind a bush. “Hold it.”

Josie casts me a ‘what’s your problem’ look but stays quiet. For once.

I stick my head between some branches and watch Caroline buzz around the parking lot. Her head is swiveling as fast as her legs are jerking as she struts around.

Josie gives words to my thoughts. “Who’s she looking for?”

When Caroline stops and pivots on her cheap shoes, I spot a crumbled piece of newspaper gripped in her hand. The article.

“Damn that clean desk!” I groan. “We don’t have time for her crap right now.”

“What?”

Over my shoulder, I whisper, “She got that article your sister wrote out of my desk!”

Josie shrinks down. “Oh.”

I shrink with her. “Yeah.”

Caroline scans the lot with annoying thoroughness.

“I wish she’d get a clue and give up,” I whisper. “We’re going to miss Riana.”

“Want to just go?” Josie asks. “What can she do anyway?”

“Besides fire me?” I sigh. “She’ll chase me down, and dealing with her will take up time we don’t have.”

If the situation weren’t so maddening, it would be funny. It might even be funny later, when I’ll have time to laugh about it. We wait, crouching behind the bush, until Caroline marches off in the opposite direction then disappears behind the clubhouse.

I grab Josie’s arm and we race through the parking lot, down the hill past Mr. Hastings’ charming security booth, then stumble to a stop right next to the finish line.

There are clusters of other rider’s family and friends. None of them are panting and gasping for breath the way Josie and I are. I suck in one last deep breath, then ask a woman standing near us if anybody has gone by yet.

She shakes her head and waves toward the corner with her phone. “My lookout says they’ll be coming around that corner any second.”

We spin and stare, like everybody else, at the empty street. The distant drone of the highway and the hum of the city settles around us. I start to dread the worst. Peter is going to beat her.

I glance at Josie. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper.

“If somebody else is going to come first, let it be anybody but Peter.”

Just as soon as the words slip from Josie’s mouth, Peter blasts around the corner and steams toward us. Long seconds tick past as he gets closer.

Damn.

I swallow against the disappointment tightening my throat and resist the urge to scream, ‘You fucking fuckhead’ at him as he zooms past.

Some people clap when he crosses the finish line. Josie and I turn back to spot Riana zip around the corner, pedaling like mad. Her legs are a blur, her face is glowing with pure willpower. By this time she knows that Peter has beaten her but she’s still hanging in there. Two bikers cross the finish line before her.

Josie and I exchange glances. There’s nothing to say so we stay quiet as we jog to the finish line. Wind whips around us as more riders stream past. The rest of the crowd is cheering and howling. Josie and I don’t say a thing.

We get to the finish line in time to see Riana hobble up to Peter and offer her hand. He accepts the handshake with a broad smile that somehow doesn’t ring true.

“Riana’s too nice to do anything to Peter but maybe we can start a fight with his friends,” Josie mutters.

I scan the crowd, looking for any other overly successful types. There are only basic Midwesterners hugging each other and looking like some made-for-TV movie about the importance of family.

When Josie and I catch up with Riana, Peter is still alone. He walks over to the timekeeper—probably to make sure he is listed as today’s winner and to make sure his time is recorded correctly so that when today’s time and tomorrow’s time are added together, his total time will be correct. After he glances at the clipboard in the official’s hands, he nods then wheels his bike toward the parking lot.

Josie is done hugging Riana so I take my turn.

Riana’s face is still flushed but she’s actually smiling. And her smile rings true. “It’s okay,” she tells us, even though we don’t say anything about Peter beating her.

Like all the other cyclists, she’s walking in circles and shaking her tired legs. After a while, Josie takes Riana’s bike, and I help her slip her helmet off. Josie and I laugh and point at Riana’s sweaty, flat hair.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, making Josie and me laugh harder. Too soon, we stop chuckling and fall silent again.

All the things I want to say, ‘Maybe you’ll beat him tomorrow’, ‘You really tried’, ‘Who cares—he’s an asshole’ stick in my throat and I hate feeling tongue-tied and sad for my friend.

We meander over to the parking lot, where Riana parked her car that morning.

Riana takes her bike and helmet from us. “Thanks for coming.”

Josie and I stand awkwardly, watching her slide her bike into her bike rack.

“Want to go get something to eat?” Josie asks.

Riana shakes her head. “I don’t feel like eating.” She tightens the straps on her bike rack then turns back to us. “I think I’ll go home and get ready for tomorrow.”

She straightens to find Josie and me staring at her like clueless kindergarteners.

“Really, it’s okay. So he beat me.” A half-smile tugs on her mouth. She swings into her car. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Josie tells her to get some rest then we wave as she drives off. We head to the back entrance of North Pointe so Josie can get her car.

After we cross the street, I pause by the edge of the lot and scan for Caroline. No sign of her so I jog to catch up with Josie who didn’t even notice that I’d stopped.

Josie slows down after we pass the clubhouse then comes to a halt when we reach the bush we hid behind earlier. “I’m really sorry about what my sister did.”

I grab her arm. “Come on. It’ll be okay.” But I know I’m not as strong as Riana. I won’t have the nerve to shake Caroline’s hand after she gives me the word.

And the idea of finding myself fired and jobless, limping my way back to the country, where God forbid, I might actually belong, pretty much scares the shit out of me. Without the intensity of the city surrounding me, exposing me to new people and news ideas, challenging me to be more than I am, I might lose the fragile new self-confidence I’ve struggled to build. I see now how important the past few months have been. I’ve gained a tiny bit of strength but that tiny bit wouldn’t last if I had to spend every day looking into the faces of people who don’t understand that what I want from my life is what’s best for me.

After Josie gets into her car, I head to mine. Once behind the wheel, I pull out my phone and stare at it.
Text me, Nick. Text me. Call me.

Nothing. Even though it’s been days since we got back from my house.

We had super-hot, romance-novel sex in my hayloft. Isn’t there some post-coital etiquette that requires him to text me? Or am I supposed to text him? My fingers hover over the screen but in the end I wimp out. I’m not ready to answer his question so I toss it back into my bag.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Basic Black

It’s Saturday morning, day two of the rally and ‘my big day’. A couple of hours after waving Riana off, I’m at my desk double-checking ticket stubs by making sure the names and phones numbers are legible so I don’t have to mumble through a winner’s name and embarrass myself. I’m regretting talking Tony into helping me, because he’s sitting in the red chair, swinging his legs, drinking coffee and chattering on about how he has to decide whether or not to renew his lease.

“There’s a place over on Second.”

No! I live on Second!
I shake my head and tell him he wouldn’t like it there. “It’s impossible to have people over because there’s never anywhere to park.”

“I guess you’re right. Besides, the place I looked at smelled weird… Anyway…I could move in with this other guy. He has a great house in Indian Village. He’s redoing it and he said if I help him with the drywall and refinishing the floors that I won’t have to pay rent. But he’s going to try and sell it next spring and then I’d have to move again and why would I want to do that?”

Would Tony notice if I snatched that cup of coffee out of his hands? Obviously, he’s had quite enough. Or he is nervous about something? Intriguing. What could he possibly be nervous about? I finish looking over the ticket stubs so I start going over the prize list with the certificates I picked up from the businesses earlier in the week. Every other heartbeat I look at the door, knowing that at any second Caroline will come flying through. She’ll be waving the article, ready to prove once and for all that she really is the ultimate bitchy boss by firing me on the spot.

I know it’s going to happen eventually. If I can hurry up and get away from my desk, where she can’t find me, I might make it through the day. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her get to me before I’ve finished the only major work-related task I’ve ever started.

“Do you think?”

Why do people have to ask me these trick questions? Like I’m supposed to be hanging on their every word? “Well,” I say with pretend thoughtfulness, “is that what you think is best? I mean, you have to look at both sides.”

He stops swinging his legs and frowns. Just about the time I think I’m going to have to confess that I really have no idea what he’s been saying because I’m waiting for Caroline to come in with a trash bag for my desk crap, he nods thoughtfully.

“You’re right. I do have to look at both sides. But if I stay where I am, well, um…”

If he stays where he is, he’ll probably drive his roommate crazy.
Hey, wait a minute
. “I thought you were living with your girlfriend?”

His grimace is so intense that his mouth practically blends into his neck. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, you said you had to use Caroline’s computer because you didn’t want her to find out what you were doing on the Internet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. That’s right.”

I rest my elbows on my desk. “So whatever happened with that, anyway?” I angle in closer because he looks panicky, and I’m delighted to see someone else looking the way I feel. “Why do you look…upset, Tony?” I grin evilly. “What’s up?”

He starts picking at a piece of non-existent lint. “Caroline’s not very good with computers, is she? I asked her about it yesterday, she wouldn’t give me a straight answer. I mean, she only knows the basic stuff. Right?”

Now things are getting somewhere. “As far as I know.”

“That’s good.”

“Out with it, Cattalioni. What have you been up to?”

He smacks his thigh. “Nothing really. Just checking that site like I said.”

“So why the sudden concern for Caroline’s computer skills? You going to ask her if she wants to sign up for a course at Henry Ford with you? So you two can be buddies? Maybe you want to move in with her.”

“Yeah. Right. Me and Caroline a hot item.” He gets to his feet. “I gotta go make sure that equipment got delivered. You know, the sound system and those tables for the pool party. What time is that thing starting anyway?”

“Caroline left a memo about it by the coffee machine. I think it goes from eleven-thirty to three-thirty. It should end a little before the riders cross the finish line. In time for the raffle.”

“Okay.” He smoothes back his hair and shuffles toward the door. “I’ll see ya later.”

“Hey, Tony?”

He spins back around and slouches at me.

“Don’t forget you’re supposed to babysit Snickers.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me,” he says with an off-kilter scowl.

After he’s gone, I start scooping up all the stuff I’ll need for the day and cramming it into my backpack. My plan is to get out of the clubhouse ASAP and spend most of the day in the storage shed near the back entrance. Caroline will never find me there. The tools stored in there involve actual work.

Before I can get out of the clubhouse, Mr. Neville slips in through the side door and peeks into Caroline’s sanctuary. “See her around?” he asks me.