Your Big Break (28 page)

“I have a hard time accepting when things are out of my control.” I brush a few crumbs off the blanket, throwing them to a waiting pool of ants. “Whenever I see a situation where I think I can fix things, I get too involved.”

Brady stares at me, his eyes focusing on mine. “My father did a lot of things I didn't agree with. He was bullheaded, he was a workaholic, and he was never satisfied with me, no matter what I did. But he was my
father.
And now that he's gone . . . all those things we argued about seem shallow, insignificant. I'm sorry about your mom and dad, and I can understand why you'd be upset. But you have to accept their choices, much in the same way they have to accept yours.”

“Were you close to your dad?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head. “Not really. We were civil toward one another, but we were never friends. And that's one of the things I regret. I wish I could have understood him better; I wish he could have understood me. It was like we were on different wavelengths from the moment I was born. And now he's gone. Just like that. And no matter how much it hurts sometimes, no matter how I want to change things, I can't. It's awful, and I have to accept it.” He takes a deep breath. “I don't have a choice.”

We're quiet for a minute.

Brady sits up beside me and runs his fingers lightly over my back. “I love talking to you, Dani,” he says softly. “It always makes me feel better.”

The way he's looking at me I wonder, for a second, if he's about to kiss me.

But the moment passes and he doesn't.

“So, what do you say we go for that Swan Boat ride?” Brady asks. We get up, dust ourselves off, and head over to the lake.

 
 
“He called me Lucy!”

Krista's standing on my doorstep, staring up at me through mascara-stained lashes. It's eleven-thirty on Sunday night, and I'm still high off my afternoon with Brady. I note the backpack slung over her shoulder. Her face is red and puffy, and it's obvious she's been crying.

“Come in.” I pull her through the door, and she deposits her backpack on the floor. “You want something to drink?”

She shakes her head miserably.

“Here, sit down.” I guide her to the couch and she collapses on the center cushion.

“It's over with Jason.”

“Oh, no.” I wrap my arms around her in a quick hug. “What happened?”

She embraces me for a minute and then pulls away. “I told you, he called me Lucy.”

“I assume you mean he did it—”

“During sex,” Krista finishes.

“That's the worst,” I say, though I have never experienced this horror.
Thank God.

Her ears flush pink. “I feel so stupid talking about this.”

“You don't have to feel stupid. It's just me.”

“All right. I was . . . going down on Jason tonight.” She looks really embarrassed. I'm not sure why. It's not as though we haven't discussed these kinds of things before. “And he was getting really into it and he said”—she grimaces—“‘Oh, Lucy, that feels so good!'”

“I bet that stopped things cold.”

“At first I tried to ignore it, but he just kept saying it. ‘Lucy! Oh, God, Lucy! Oh, God!'” she mimics. “So I had to stop.”

“Did you call him on it?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “And that's when he asked it.” Her face goes pale.

“Asked what?”

“If it would be okay if he did something.”

I tense up, anticipating what's about to follow, anticipating the part of the story where I'm going to discover what a gigantic freak Jason Dutwiler is in bed. “Go on, tell me,” I urge.

“He wondered if I would mind if he fantasized about Lucy during sex!” Krista shouts.

“He actually asked your permission to fantasize about his ex-girlfriend?”

Krista groans. “There were warning signs all along. The way he dwelled on Lucy, the way he talked about her too much, the way he compared me to her constantly. But I liked him so much that I pushed it out of my mind. But tonight, things went too far.” Krista's shoulders slump. “I've seen it coming for a while, but this was the last straw. The biggest thing we had going for us was mutual loneliness. We both wanted to be in love so badly. We were in love with the idea, not the reality.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “He was seriously on the rebound. You were so right. Guys who are fresh out of relationships don't make good boyfriends.”

I groan. That doesn't bode well for me and Brady.

I pat her on the shoulder. “I'm sorry things didn't work out. What did he say when you told him it was over?”

“Uh, I haven't exactly done it yet.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“I was thinking . . .”

“. . . since you've broken up with Jason once before.”

“Krista, I can't.”

She looks me in the eyes, pleadingly. “He'll take it better coming from you!”

“I can't.”

Krista squeezes her eyes shut. “Dani, please! His brother's wedding is in a week and he's dying for me to go. He's gonna
freak
when I break things off.”

“I'll think about it,” I promise. “I can't give you an answer now.”

She opens her eyes and turns to face me. “You know, Jason was obsessed with that damn wedding. He talked about it almost as often as he talked about Lucy.” Krista pauses. “I really don't want to be alone tonight. You mind if I sleep over?”

“No, of course not.” A few minutes later, we grab her backpack and head into my bedroom. “I'm sorry you had such a sucky time tonight,” I tell her.

Krista bursts out laughing. “No pun intended, right?”

32

Everybody Lies

“Come on in,” Brady says, leading me into the living room, where I set down my purse and take a seat on the couch. It's a couple of nights later and he's invited me for dinner at his place. “The chicken's taking longer than I'd thought to finish roasting.”

“How are things?” I ask.

“They're okay.”

We sit in silence for a moment. I feel awkward, unsure of myself. The situation with my family, with Krista and Jason—combined with the memories of Garrett—is making me uncomfortable. I feel like my life is spiraling out of control.

“Do you ever think about Erin?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.

Brady nods. “Of course I do.”

“I'm not in love with her, if that's what you're asking.”

For a moment, I feel relieved.
But is he lying?
“Not that I don't believe you,” I say, “but it seems kind of soon. How can you be over your broken heart already?”

He thinks about it. “The truth is, Erin and I grew apart a long time ago. I was clinging to her because I'd been with her for years, and suddenly my entire world was changing and I didn't want any more change. But I'd fallen out of love; we were just going through the motions.”

I'm surprised by this. “I thought Erin meant the world to you.”

He takes a sip of wine. “She did mean the world to me. But the Erin you see now isn't the same Erin I fell in love with. The old Erin was a sweet, friendly girl who cared about charity work and about making a difference in the world—at least, that's what I wanted to believe. But the longer we dated, the more I got to know her. And I realized all she cared about was money. And I could never be rich enough for her.” He laughs. “Donald Trump wouldn't be rich enough for her.”

I choose my words carefully. “Erin says you haven't called her. She was . . . surprised you weren't heartbroken.”

“I always forget you and Erin are friends,” Brady says, reaching for my hand. “You two seem so different.” He turns my hand over in his, stroking my palm with his fingertips. “When two people aren't in love anymore, it makes sense to call it quits.”

I think about the breakup of my parents' marriage.
Was it meant to happen, and I just didn't notice the signs? No, it coundn't have been.
My father has always worked long hours, and my parents have never been the lovey-dovey type. When their marriage first went on the rocks, they didn't let it show. No one in my family is very good at letting things show, it seems. We hide behind work, or lies, or television. “I guess that's like my last boyfriend,” I say instead, then stop and rephrase it: “My fiancé.”

“You were engaged?” Brady asks, surprised.

I tell him about Garrett, about my radio breakup.

“What an asshole!” Brady exclaims. “People like that make me sick.”

“People like that?”

“Liars, cheaters. There's never a good excuse to hurt someone that way.”

I brush it off. “Oh, everybody lies,” I say meekly, trying to soften the blow. “Even me sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you've never told a lie like that. You've never cheated on anyone.”

“No, I've never cheated. But I have lied from time to time.”

“Okay, then what's the biggest lie you've ever told?” Brady asks.

Keeping Your Big Break Inc. a secret.
I try to say the words, but I can't. “Lying to my mom about my father's affair.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Hard doesn't even begin to describe it.”

Brady looks at me for a long time. I love that moment when you can feel the landscape shift and you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what's about to happen. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. I nod and he takes my face in his hands, traces his thumb over my lower lip. He pulls me toward him and our lips meet softly. Brady squeezes me in his arms. “I've wanted to do that for so long.”

I lay my head against his shoulder. I feel dizzy, light-headed.
If there's such a thing as a perfect first kiss,
I think,
that was certainly it.
I try to focus my mind, to think rationally. I move my lips up and kiss Brady again. He's an incredible kisser, soft and gentle but passionate. He kisses my upper lip, my lower lip, the corners of my mouth . . . I feel his hands working on the buttons of my shirt and the thought of stopping him doesn't even cross my mind.

Brady's just taken my shirt off when the doorbell rings.

“Ignore it,” I whisper.

He does and keeps kissing me, moving on to my neck.

Someone's knocking loudly on the front door. Brady continues to ignore it, but the knocking turns into pounding. “Brady! I know you're in there!” says a shrill voice. It's familiar, but I can't place it.

Exasperated, he untangles himself from me and jumps up off the couch. “Talk about a colossal case of bad timing,” he says. “Hold that thought.” He winks. “I'll be right back.”

“Sure,” I say. I feel drunk, weak-kneed.

“I need to get my pink Jimmy Choos,” a voice says. “The twit forgot them.”

I realize who it is and I scoop my shirt off the floor—but not in time.

“Danielle!” Her jaw drops. “What the hell's going on here?”

“I, well, we—”

“I recall you offer sympathy gifts and phone calls. I had no idea Your Big Break Inc. offered sympathy fucks!”

I pull on my shirt, rapidly buttoning it.

“Erin,” Brady says, “Dani and I never meant to hurt you.”

She sneers at me. “Brady, did you pay for a night with communications specialist Danielle M.? Or did you instruct them to bill
me
for it?”

Brady stares at her in disgust. “Get out,” he says sharply. She stalks into the bedroom and retrieves her Jimmy Choos. “Ta-ta,” she says, waving them and heading toward the door.

“Apologize to Dani,” Brady says, blocking her path.

“Keep dreaming,” Erin says, trying to move around him.

“I'm embarrassed, truly embarrassed, by the way you treat people.” Brady glares at her. “You dump me the month after my father passes away. Then you come over here and call Dani a prostitute? I'm sorry if you can't handle me dating your friend, but—”

“My
friend
?” Erin asks. Suddenly, the realization dawns on her. She turns to me. “You haven't told him, have you?”

I feel the color drain from my face.

“Brady, do you know how Danielle makes her living?”

“She works on websites.”

Erin snorts. “You want to clue him in, Danielle, or must I?”

When I don't say anything, she announces, “Your
girlfriend
here works for a breakup company called Your Big Break Inc.”

“A breakup company?” Brady's eyes try to catch mine. “What's she talking about?”

I clear my throat. “We provide, um, a service to people looking to end relationships.”

“She dumps people,” Erin clarifies. “Breaks their hearts for a buck.”

“People actually pay for that?” He looks stunned.

“They certainly do,” Erin tells him. “She makes money off of people's misery.”

If I had a feather, I could knock Brady with it and test out that old saying; he looks ready to topple over. “What about that breakup letter you mailed me?” Brady begins.

“Dani wrote you that breakup letter,” Erin continues. “
She
hurt you. And she knows you're vulnerable and weak right now.”

And there it is, the reason people come to us. We allow them to transfer their guilt, to ease their conscience. They're no longer responsible;
we are
. They didn't dump anyone;
we did
. They don't have to feel bad about anything;
we do.
Amazingly, I never saw it this clearly before.