The Pact

  So much has changed in such a short time and yet I reach between my legs again.

  ***

  Lunch hour doesn’t really exist when you’re self-employed. Actually, none of the things that ordinary, nine-to-five type folk take for granted really exist. There is no clock to punch in and out of. If I’m not at the store, I’m concentrating on business stuff at home. I can’t even online shop for fun anymore – and this is a major blow – because everything always ends up being for the store.

  At least I can write-off my wardrobe, that’s the one perk about this whole thing. But lunch hours and breaks? Forget it.

  As it is, I’m taking my lunch hour the usual way: standing behind the counter and shoveling French fries into my mouth. I know I’m supposed to be eating healthier – I told myself I wouldn’t ruin my body in my thirties, that I would do kale shakes and pumpkin seed salads and kombucha or however you say it. But there’s a lot to be said for convenience and when I have just a moment to grab something to eat or I’ll turn into a raging hangry bitch, then the fries win.

  It’s too bad my ass doesn’t like them as much as my mouth does.

  Today it’s cold and raining and there is barely anyone in the store. Days like this make me panic that no one will come tomorrow and the business will fail and I’ll have nothing, but then I remember it was like this last year too. In fact, I opened at one of the worst times and it all still evened out in the end. I declared a loss but it wasn’t that great of one. This year is already shaping up to be better.

  I’m thinking about the roof in the condo and if this new bout of rain is going to cause even more problems and whether I should bite the bullet and call Linden, just to see if he can come by and really fix my roof (not a euphemism), maybe see if he’s broken up with Nadine, when something catches my eye on Facebook.

  It happens to be Nadine herself. For a split second, because there are so many exclamation marks on her status, I think that this has to be the “I hate you Linden! Men suck!” update that I’ve been waiting for. Not many women make it through a break-up without spewing hatred all over Facebook.

  But on closer look, that’s not what it says at all. In fact I nearly drop my phone and choke on a fry when I realize what it actually says:

  Thank God for guardian angels!!! I knew the Lord was watching over me when he gave me such a good man as Linden McGregor. Thanks to my bae, I’m moving in with him as of tomorrow. I’ll be in Russian Hill, bitches, so message me if you want my new address!!

  What. The. Fuck.

  No, seriously.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  I do end up dropping the phone as my heart leaps up into my throat. The room spins and I’m struck with an unbearable hit of anger and humiliation.

  Break up with Nadine? The asshole just asked her to move in with him!

  I am so damn livid that I actually make it across the store, lock the door and flip the sign over to CLOSED. The shop is empty and I want to keep it that way. There is no way I can deal with one single citizen of humanity without wanting to rip their head off.

  I go back to the phone and read it again. People have commented with, “Yay, so lucky!” and all that fucking bullshit and I am so damn tempted to write “He was supposed to dump your ass, what happened?!” but I don’t. I at least have a sliver of decorum left and should work to preserve that.

  But I’m not perfect. Instead of writing that to Nadine, I send a text to Linden.

  Fuck you.

  And then I turn off my phone and hurl it at the wall.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LINDEN

  I knew it was a mistake. I knew it the moment I opened my mouth and I knew it even more when Stephanie sent me a single text that said: Fuck you.

  She knew what had happened. I have royally¸ expertly fucked up.

  All because I’m trying to be a good guy.

  That damn dare started it all.

  When I kissed Stephanie, it didn’t even matter if everyone was watching. They weren’t even there. It was just between me and her. That’s all there was at that moment, just the two of us, just her sweet pink lips that taste like cinnamon and the silk of her hair and the way her body so easily tugs toward mine, like it belongs pressed up against me.

  That’s all I could see and all I’d ever want.

  And then it intensified and I knew I was getting hard and that it was so inappropriate and getting out of hand and then suddenly my girlfriend was there and shoving Stephanie out of the way.

  I couldn’t fault Nadine for acting that way, but I wish she had directed it toward me. I was being the pig, the asshole here. None of that was Stephanie’s fault. I was the one who so desperately wanted more than she was giving.

  But at least she was giving me something, something that was right up there with all my deepest dreams.

  Stephanie ran off and then Penny followed. Nadine was yelling at me about taking things too far and I couldn’t do much but agree with her, blame it on being drunk – because I was drunk and that certainly helped me take it further than I should have. Then she slapped me – again, well deserved – and stormed off to bed and then I was left with Aaron and James.

  The odd thing was, Aaron didn’t really look all that upset and when I came back to the table and sat down beside him, saying, “Hey, sorry about that, I’m a bit drunk,” Aaron just laughed and said, “No worries, dude!” and then asked me to hand him a beer.

  But James…James had kill, kill, kill, die, die, die written all over his face and it’s like I could almost see him turning into Jason and sawing me in half. It didn’t really surprise me though, considering the vibes I’d been picking off of him lately.

  It didn’t surprise me, but it worried me. Was it possible that even though he was with Penny and seemed very happy, that James was still in love with Steph? And if that was the case, just what did that mean for me?

  I didn’t know and I still don’t. If Steph and I ever got together and James told me that he was still in love with her, I’d step back. I don’t want to be that guy, especially when you’re not supposed to go after your best friend’s ex.

  But though James was trying to kill me with his glare, he didn’t say anything and I wasn’t about to pry. I operate best on denial.

  So I went after Steph and found her beside his car, hiding it seemed. Was it from me? Nadine?

  One look into her eyes though I knew she was regretting what had happened, that she too had been carried away. I needed to show her that it was okay.

  I wanted to tell her all the dirty things I’d been dreaming about for years.

  But she was a good girl. She thought about Aaron. And I thought of Nadine.

  I knew I had to end things with her. I couldn’t go back to being with her when I knew how much better it could be with Steph. One kiss and my whole world was colored.

  That next morning and the whole ride back to the city, I was thinking of when I should do it, how I should do it. Nadine wasn’t going to take it well and she’d immediately accuse me of being with Stephanie, even though things just hadn’t been working out between us for a long time.

  I had it all planned too. I would show up at her house with a bottle of wine on Monday night to just ease her into it and then explain that I feel that she’s looking for a future that I’m not willing to provide and I need to be single and find myself and all the things that are buried in truth.

  But when she showed up at the office on Monday morning, after having spent Sunday night alone to “have some time to think” as she had said, she was in tears.

  It turns out that she had gotten a notice that morning before she left for work that her building was condemned and that she’d have to move out immediately. She lives all the hell out in Emeryville, in this old Victorian house that was split into six apartments. She was renting too, so it was as much news to her landlords as it was for her but unfortunately nothing could be done about it, at least not until the structural integri
ty of the building is looked at more closely and repairs could be made, if its even possible.

  Well I couldn’t fucking break up with her now, not when she was potentially homeless. So I rubbed her back as she cried at her desk before I was called out to fly a man out from Oakland all the way to Redding and when I got back she had told me none of her friends could take her in, that she didn’t have enough money in savings and that her parents were out of the question since they lived in Livermore and it was way too far to commute.

  Suffice to say, she was fucked and I was fucked.

  So I had to do what any boyfriend would do, let alone any decent man, and I said she could move in with me until the situation got straightened out.

  I had stressed the whole “until” part of the arrangement but that just went straight over her head. Suddenly she’s calling everyone she knows, telling them she’s moving in with me.

  I wanted to warn her against putting it on Facebook but she did anyway.

  And that’s when I saw Steph’s text.

  She must think that every single thing I told her about wanting to be with her was an absolute lie. I do my best to get a conversation going, texting her Talk to me and Let me explain but it all goes unread.

  By mid-week, Nadine has settled a little too comfortably in my flat – it seems half of my framed black and white helicopter photographs have been replaced by IKEA prints of Audrey Hepburn and Brooklyn Bridges – and I manage to sneak out to the Lion for a drink. James is busy working but Penny is at the bar, so I end up talking to her.

  “So she moved in with you, huh?” Penny says dryly as she sucks a maraschino cherry in her mouth.

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” I say with a sigh. “She had nowhere to go.”

  “How noble of you.” She pauses. “Did you hear that Steph broke up with Aaron?”

  And now my heart goes absolutely cold. “She what?”

  “Yep. Kicked him to the curb on Sunday night. Seems that our little weekend away really put that last nail in the coffin. I saw it coming of course but I didn’t think Aaron was all that bothered by your little makeout session. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all…”

  I lean over and reach behind the bar, searching for a bottle of something, anything. My glass is dry and I can’t think at all.

  Penny slides her Manhattan my way. “Here, this will help.”

  I slam it back into my mouth and try to breathe. “She actually broke up with him?”

  She nods. “Yup. Didn’t you guys have some sort of pact?”

  That fucking pact.

  She takes the glass back from me. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter if you’re still with Nadine, huh. Funny how life just kind of screws with you sometimes.”

  Then she gets up and goes to the washroom. James is busy chatting with customers so I quickly get up and leave. I can’t talk to him right now. I can’t really talk to anyone.

  But I know what I have to do, even though it’s about to make me an even bigger asshole than I already am.

  The next night I break up with Nadine, but only after I have secured a place for her. It’s in Marin Country so she’ll be close to work, I’ve paid for a month’s rent so she won’t have to worry and I tell her I’ve got another moving van arranged for the weekend to get her stuff out of storage.

  I get punched in the face. Like, right on my fucking cheekbone.

  I guess I deserve that too, but I don’t know what else to say. I know I’m a fucking dick for breaking up with someone who’s just been evicted. I know it but I can’t help it. I can’t let Stephanie, the opportunity to be with her, slip through my fingers. Not now, not after all these years of hit or miss and bad timing.

  Nadine isn’t shy about letting me know how she feels. Her words are more vicious than her fist.

  “You think you can buy me off?” she yells at me, picking up a frame that holds a picture of us in it. “You think that because you’re some rich snot with important parents that you can just buy me a little apartment and tuck me away somewhere?”

  “I’m just trying to help,” I tell her, raising my hands in surrender. I have a feeling that picture is going to come flying toward my face.

  “Help?!” she sneers and then lets out a caustic laugh. “You don’t know how to help anyone but yourself. Poor little rich boy pretends to actually give a shit about the ones around him. You know, you say that your parents weren’t there for you, that they are heartless and cold, and I can see it. I can see that family resemblance in you. You’re going to be just like them, tossing aside your relationships when the going gets tough, hoping a little money and jewelry will help the problem.”

  Her words cause me to panic. “No, that’s not what this is. That’s not who I am.” And yet I’m afraid because this was the thing I feared, that I was tossing away a relationship that maybe was fixable in the end.

  But it doesn’t matter. The damage is done. The picture frame goes sailing through the air and I duck as it smashes against the wall behind me. She then proceeds to smash all the pictures in the room, even the ones that are hers, hauling them off the walls and shattering them on the floor. It’s true what they say about red-headed chicks, you know, they all have a wee bit of crazy in them.

  Turns out Nadine was holding a surplus.

  I barely make it out of that night alive and I don’t even go to work for the next few days because even seeing her there briefly would be bad enough. But by the time Saturday rolls around, the moving guys take the last of her stuff and she’s gone, out of my life.

  At least until I see her at work on Monday.

  I sit in my kitchen, drinking a gallon of orange juice right out of the container, and let the silence sink in. It’s starting to feel like mine again. I still feel like absolute wanker for breaking up with her at a time like this, but at least I did what I could to make sure she was comfortable.

  It’s interesting how that makes me feel better though. I wonder if that’s how my parents felt when they were hit with a shred of guilt for never being around, for never being loving, and then threw money at the problem to fix it.

  I was the problem, of course, and I don’t think money ever fixed all those holes they put in me. It didn’t stuff the absence I felt by not having a loving family.

  I know I’m about to fall into a pit of self-loathing, so I get on my trainers and head out the door. I run forever, all the way along the Embarcadero to the Presidio and then back. Lombard Street nearly murders my thighs and my knees cry in pain on the way down, but I run until I no longer feel like I’m drowning.

  Then I shower, get dressed and call a cab. I’m heading to The Burgundy Lion and when I come back home, I intend to not be sober.

  ***

  “What are you doing here?” James asks as I sit at the bar.

  I shrug and take off my jacket. “I’m a free man now, I can go where I want.”

  “So she’s really gone, huh?” he asks as he automatically pours me a pint. He nods at it. “It’s the Longboard, best part of the keg.”

  I gratefully take the beer and raise it at him. “Thank you for that.” I finish half of the glass and let out a long exhale. “Yeah. She’s really gone.”

  He wipes down the counter, even though he doesn’t need to. I think he does it so he looks like he’s working, even though he’s just shooting the shit with me, even though it’s his fucking bar and he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

  “I thought maybe you would have gone out there to help her unload and stuff. I mean, you’ve been pretty saintly about all of this so far.”

  I raise my brow. “Have I? I thought I’ve been an outright dick.”

  James shrugs. “She would have known that about you to begin with. And no, you haven’t been. Maybe it would have been better if you waited a bit before you dumped her but I guess I understand. When it’s over, it’s over.”

  “Yeah. And I’ve never been very good at pretending.”

  “No,” he says, holding my gaze for a mom
ent, “you haven’t.”

  I wonder what that’s all about but I don’t say anything. I finish the rest of the drink and then ask, “Where is Penny?”

  His body seems to stiffen at the question and he looks away. “I’m not sure. Having a girl’s night.”

  I nod, not sure if I should ask him if everything is okay. Instead, I cautiously ask, “Where is Steph?”

  “Here,” he says.

  “What?” I sit up a little straighter. “In the bar?”

  He nods, narrowing his eyes a bit and then gestures to the other side of the bar. I lean over until I have a clear line of sight. She’s at one of the booths in the corner, sitting with Nicola and Kayla.

  Oh boy. I know Kayla doesn’t like me and I’m pretty sure Nicola’s not my biggest fan either. Throw in the fact that Stephanie seems to absolutely hate my guts at the moment, and that’s a table I should stay far, far away from.

  But I can’t. Maybe because I’m an idiot or a sucker for punishment but I ask James for another beer and get off the stool.

  “What’s going on?” he asks me as he slides the pint into my hands. “Are you and Stephanie in a fight?”

  I eye him sharply. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, when I mentioned your name to her earlier, she looked like she was going to stab someone with a fork and when I mentioned her name just now, you looked like you were about to be stabbed with a fork. Did something…happen?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “What did you say to her earlier? About me?”

  “I said to her, ‘Talk to Linden lately?’ and she visibly shivered like someone walked over her grave.”

  “I’m not having the best luck with the ladies,” I say jokingly.

  James doesn’t smile. “Steph isn’t just one of your ladies, Linden. She’s your friend.”

  God, when did he get to be such a killjoy? I didn’t need everyone in the world mad at me.