One Good Thing (3 page)

His chuckle trembled against my skin. “Great. Let’s see them.”

*

Less than two weeks later I started the job at SLQ. I’d gone in for an interview, dressed in slacks and a button-down business jacket, possible answers and possible questions running through my mind, and hadn’t been interviewed. Instead they’d sat me down and talked to me about what I’d be doing and when I could start. I guess if Drew/Drew’s father gave someone’s name to human resources, they were pretty much in. If I felt bad for the nepotism, which I did, I assuaged my guilt by telling myself I was overqualified for the job—it didn’t even require a college degree.

But that was depressing in its own way. I’d spent four years in college and I was overqualified for a job I’d only managed to get because my boyfriend’s father owned a third of the company.

At least I had a paycheck now.

The first couple of days went well; the guy who was leaving the position stuck around to train me. He was friendly and patient and I caught on quickly enough, feeling competent and adult. I brightened up my cubicle with little touches. On my desk, I set out a framed picture of my mom and sister and a glass vase with a carnation I’d picked out from the floral department of the grocery store. I stuck a calendar of Berthe Morisot paintings on the cubicle wall.

A picture of Drew was nowhere to be found though—I’d thought about putting one out, but I didn’t want my coworkers to know we were dating.

I never encountered Drew during the workday. SLQ was a big company and his office was in another department. The job itself was fine. Typing data into a computer for most of the day was monotonous and there wasn’t anything remotely creative about it, but it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. If there was no creativity, there was also no pressure, nothing to live up to. My chest didn’t feel tight when my fingers flexed over the keyboard, not like it did when they grasped a paintbrush.

Those first couple of days, I was content in the monotony and I looked forward to my first paycheck, even though it wouldn’t be a lot. Maybe things were looking up.

But I never should have thought anything so hopeful. I jinxed myself.

Because on my third day of gainful employment, I saw
him
.

It was Hot Lips. And not casual jean-and-T-shirt Hot Lips but slacks-and-button-shirt-with-a-tie Hot Lips. No sports jacket. They went for a look somewhere between business casual and formal at SLQ.

He walked toward an office across from the cubicles, one I’d noticed had been empty the first two days I was at work. He must have taken some time off. And lulled me into a false sense of security.

I ducked my head as my cheeks heated; I prayed he wouldn’t notice me.

“Hi,” a voice said.

Either there wasn’t a God or He liked to laugh at me—I would have known that voice anywhere; it was smooth as velvet, richly timbered. The kind of voice I normally liked to listen to in audiobooks. But this one was associated with public exposure.

I pretended I was really busy, slowly tearing my eyes from the computer screen to look at him like he was distracting me from a really important task. Hopefully he didn’t glance too closely at the blue screen; I’d just turned the computer on and it was still running through updates.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Uh …” Why was I hesitating? If he didn’t remember me, I wasn’t going to remind him. But how could he not remember the girl who’d flashed her ass at him? My mouth went dry as the seconds ticked by; I could hear them as loudly as if I’d had a clock on my desk. Was it possible he remembered and was being nice by pretending nothing happened? Or was this amusing to him?

The silence stretched on. A smile quirked the corner of his lips.
God, just answer the question! It’s not like he saw you stark naked.
Butts were nudity lite, anyway; you could show five of them in a movie and still get a PG-13, right?

At least that’s what I told myself; it didn’t make me feel any less exposed.

“No,” I said. I managed a lame little smile. “I mean, I don’t think so.”

He reached out his hand. “I’m Evan.”

Like a skittish animal, I tentatively raised my arm and placed my hand in his. His fingers wrapped around me, strong, warm, imprisoning. “Danielle,” I said. “But my friends call me Dani.”

I didn’t breathe until he released his grip.

“Can I call you Dani?”

“If you want,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. I lowered my hand to my lap and flexed my palm against my thigh. The skin where he’d touched me felt overly sensitive.

“You just started here?” he asked.

“A couple of days ago.”

“Let me know if you need any help with anything, all right?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“Hey, nice flower,” he said before he turned away, his eyes on the desk, “I like that shade of red on you.”

I frowned, my head snapping toward the carnation.

I’d bought a red carnation, unwittingly selecting the same bright hue as the thong I’d worn to the park.

He’d been toying with me the whole time.

*

Lucy, the woman who occupied the office next to Evan, stopped by my desk that afternoon. She was older than me, in her midthirties maybe, with a round face and blond hair that she usually kept in an efficient bun. I was sort of jealous, since my own hair was boring mousey brown and too thin to look very good in a bun. “Dani, I wanted to let you know a few of us are going to Sadie’s Tavern after work. Feel free to come along.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it,” I said. My eyes darted to the office across the hall and I wondered if Evan would be going to the bar.

The best thing would be to just go home and avoid potential embarrassment. But it was Friday night, and I didn’t have anything to go home to. Unless you counted made-for-TV movies and babysitting Princess.

The weekend dragged out ahead of me, endless and empty, like the weekends before. Just because Drew was busy tonight didn’t mean I had to stay at the apartment. I’d never really been into the bar scene in college, but it might be fun to try something different.

I decided right then I’d go, and that I’d enjoy myself, Hot Lips or not.

*

I sidled up to the bar to take the stool next to Lucy. Like most bars, it was dimly lit, blaring with loud music from a jukebox, and smelled faintly of smoke from the days when it hadn’t been illegal to smoke indoors. Two pool tables occupied one side of the room; round tables for eating were scattered on the other. Above the bartender’s area hung a handwritten sign on orange paperboard, advertising two-dollar shots and other Friday drink specials.

My fingers traced a groove in the countertop. The surface wasn’t smooth but instead etched with everything from hairline scratches to deep wedges. It was a well-worn bar, like an old pair of boots that weren’t in the best shape but were too comfortable to throw away.

Lucy was sipping an amber-colored beer from a tall glass. She smiled when she noticed me. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks.”

“What’ll it be?” the bartender said, glancing at me as he removed some empty glasses from the counter.

I eyed the drink specials uncertainly. If I drank anything alcoholic I preferred a sweet wine every now and then. And a place like this didn’t seem to cater to the wine-drinking crowd; it was all beer and hard liquor.

“Jack and Coke,” I said after a long hesitation. I wondered if it would be weird to ask that he go light on the Jack. Or maybe I should have ordered a Coke instead.

“Are you liking SLQ?” Lucy asked, turning toward me slightly.

“Yeah; everyone’s been nice so far.” The bartender slid me my drink and I took a sip. The Jack was way stronger than the soda. I had to fight back a shudder.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

I glanced around; more and more people came into the bar, causing the heat and the volume level to skyrocket. It must have been a popular place to relax after work. I saw a few people from SLQ come in through the doorway—including a tall figure I recognized instantly—I turned back to my drink before he had a chance to notice me.

But then, from right next to me … “Hey, Evan!” Lucy called.

Damn it, Lucy!

I wanted to shrink down into my chair. I felt a sudden irrational longing to be the size of a Borrower—then I could hurl my tiny body into my Jack and Coke and drown myself.

“Hey,” Evan said, from right behind me.

I swiveled on my bar stool to face him, hoping to appear nonchalant. Like any confident twentysomething swigging liquor at a bar, talking to a guy she barely knew who’d already seen underneath her skirt.

Except I had the feeling I wasn’t that confident and I wasn’t very good at faking it.

“You’ve met Dani, haven’t you?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning at me like we were friends or something. “We met before she started working at SLQ, actually.”

What
? He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Lucy looked a little too curious. “Really? How did you meet?”

“It was one of those Halloween contests for pets.” He glanced at me. “It was fun. Interesting.”

My heart started doing an odd tripping beat. “Fun” and “interesting” weren’t the words I’d used to describe it. Unless those were synonyms for mortifying.

“That’s neat,” she said. If she thought a Halloween contest for pets was actually lame—and I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did—she didn’t let on. “You guys both have pets?”

“I have a German shepherd,” Evan said.

“Oh, I love German shepherds,” Lucy said. “My best friend had one when we were growing up.”

“He was dressed as Darth Vader,” I remarked, a little too forcefully. “He didn’t win a prize, did he?” I asked only because I was pretty sure he hadn’t.

Evan shook his head slightly, looking more amused than offended. “Well, he got a box of dog treats for participating.”

“That’s cute,” I said. “Like a consolation prize.”

His lips curved, drawing my stupid attention to them. Did he think I was funny? I definitely wasn’t trying to amuse him. “Don’t tell Vader that. He was really happy with his dog treats.”

Lucy laughed. “Is he actually named Vader?”

Evan shrugged. “Yeah.”

A woman I recognized from our department—one of the actuaries—walked up to us with a cocktail in her hand. “Hey, guys,” she said, but I noticed she was looking at Evan. “Are we playing darts? Everybody’s waiting.”

“Sure,” Evan said. “Do either of you want to play?”

Lucy shook her head.

“Dani?”

Hell no. I already felt awkward enough around him without adding pointy objects into the mix. “No thanks.” And then, for some stupid reason, I felt like I had to explain myself. “I’m not very coordinated with stuff like that. I might, you know, kill someone. A dart through the eye or the temple or something.”

He grinned. “If you change your mind …”

“I won’t,” I said quickly.

Once they were gone, I turned back to the bar and took a big relieved gulp of my drink. “How long has Evan worked at the company?” I asked Lucy, the question tumbling from my mouth before I could rein it back in.

“Five or six years,” she said. She glanced at me curiously and smiled. “If you like him, you’re going to have some competition.”

“Oh, I don’t,” I said immediately, horrified. “I was just curious.”

Lucy shrugged. She leaned closer to me, tilting her head toward the dartboard. “Natalie’s had her sights set on Evan for months now, but I don’t think he’s interested.”

“Natalie’s the one who came up to us?”

She nodded.

I watched the woman in question turn to set her drink down before she lined up her shot. Dark hair tumbled around her shoulders as she sank the first dart straight into the bull’s-eye.

Wait, did Lucy mean not interested in Natalie or not interested in a general sort of way?

“Is he gay?” I asked, trying not to let hopefulness creep into my voice.

Lucy laughed. “No. He had a girlfriend for a while. Natalie is just used to men falling at her feet, and she’s pissed that Evan hasn’t. He’s too nice for her.”

“Nice?” I echoed. Laughing at me in the park wasn’t nice. Toying with me about the carnation wasn’t nice.

“Yeah,” she said, not noticing my skeptical look.

I took a longer swig of my drink. Bad idea. My eyes watered and I had to clear my throat a few times to keep from coughing.

I tried to play it off by looking around the bar casually. Suddenly my breath hitched. Drew was standing by one of the pool tables, a cue stick in hand. Drew, who’d told me he’d be staying late to finish up some work.

I didn’t want to think the worst, but it looked like he’d blown me off to drink and play pool.

But maybe he was just taking a break and I was jumping to conclusions. As I watched him laugh at something one of his friends said, my chest tightened. He never looked this happy when we were together anymore.

A deep breath to calm my pattering heart. A sip of my drink.

Part of me just wanted to slip out of the bar and pretend I hadn’t seen him. A big part of me. But another part, which might have been aided by my Jack and Coke, wanted answers.

I looked back at him again, undecided. And then it was decided for me because he glanced up at the same time.

We stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before he lifted his hand in an equally awkward wave.

“I’ll be right back,” I muttered to Lucy.

“Hi,” Drew said when I reached him. He’d set the cue stick down and moved away from the pool table while his friends started a new game.

“Hi.” Silence. I smoothed my trembling hands down my dress, picking off an imaginary piece of lint. I’d been planning to play it cool, maybe act like seeing him was some kind of fun surprise. Instead what came out of my mouth was, “You said you were too busy to do anything tonight.”

So much for playing it cool.

“I
am
busy,” he answered, almost defensively. “So what? I can’t go out with friends sometimes?”

“It’s not that. It’s just … I never see you. I thought if you had free time you’d want to spend it with me.”