Caught Up in Us (10 page)

“How are Mom and Dad? How did they
seem when you there?” I asked. Nate had visited them earlier in the
week while on his way to see a client in Boston.

“They’re hanging
in there. Dad’s a little nervous about the loan coming due, I
suspect, but Mom’s Mom. All stoic and tough and
we’ll get through this
. She’s trying
out a few sales and mixing up the inventory a bit to see if that
sparks some interest. And, get this — she’s doing one of those
online daily discount type of deals next week.”

My mom had always been more of a
traditional marketer, depending on foot traffic and tourist bureau
promotions. That she was trying new things like online deals was
perhaps a good sign. “I think I’m going to take the train out and
see them tomorrow. I need to get away for the weekend.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, and I
realized I’d said more than I intended. “Why? Don’t tell me there’s
some dude you’re running away from?”

With that, I spilled my drink on
the bar.

“I guess I was right,” Nate said
knowingly, as he grabbed a napkin to clean up.

“That was just a really strong
drink.”

“Strong? Sure. I’m sure it was so
strong it took til your third sip to spill it. Now, spill. But not
your drink. Who is he? And what did he do to you?” Nate made a fist
with one hand and smacked his other palm. “Because I will seriously
hurt him.”

I laughed nervously. “It’s
nothing,” I said, because it was nothing. What happened with Bryan
was truly nothing. Besides, Nate and Bryan weren’t best buddies
anymore, but they kept in touch, so I didn’t need Nate to know. “I
swear. Just someone at business school I liked isn’t into
me.”

“Is he crazy?”

“Maybe.” I was relieved when Jill
bumped her hip against me. Reeve was by her side, and had a
heavy-lidded look in his eyes. He was wearing guyliner.

“Were we awesome
or were we awesome?” Jill asked.

I’d already told
her she was stunning as Eponine, belting out a nearly
heavy-metal-esque version of
On My
Own
. But I wanted her to know that the
encore of
One Day More
was just as
spectacular
.

“You were the
freaking bomb,” I said, then introduced Jill and Nate, and Nate and
Reeve. They ordered drinks, and the guys chatted for a few minutes
about the show. Jill pulled me aside.

The club had started blasting
recorded songs through the speakers so we were surrounded by the
din of music again. “How did it go today? Did anything
happen?”

I pressed my teeth against my
bottom lip and shook my head.

Jill pointed at me. “That’s your
tell. When you do that thing with your teeth. So what really
happened?”

I wasn’t going to be able to fool
Jill, nor did I want to, so I gave her the quick version. Her dark
blue eyes widened when I told her what went down on his couch. She
held up her hand, waiting for me to high-five her. I gave her a
quizzical look.

“Kat, you pretty much dry-humped
him in his office. That is fucking ballsy,” Jill said, with a
mischievous grin.

“Stop! Don’t call it that. He used
his – ” I wiggled my fingers.

She put her hands on her hips and
gave me a pointed stare. “Fine. You dry humped him and he fingered
you for the payoff. The fact that you want him so badly you can
practically get off just through your clothes is a sign. I went out
with this singer from an indie band a year ago. Stefan,
remember?”

I nodded and Jill continued. “I
wanted him so badly that the first time we did it, I was calling
out his name within ten seconds of him being inside me.” Jill had a
wistful look in her eyes, and I could tell she’d taken a trip back
in time.

“Why are you telling me this,
Jill?”

“Because. Because sometimes it’s
just so good that it’s like all they have to do is touch you and,”
Jill tapped my arm with her index finger, “And you are 50,000
degrees hot for them.”

“So, are you going out with this
Stefan now? Are you dating him?” Like a good cross-examiner, I knew
the answer before I asked.

Jill shook her head.

“See? That’s my point. What does
it matter? He might have my number in the chemistry department, but
I want the whole package, and I’m obviously not going to get it
with him.”

Jill sighed heavily. “Fine. Be
that way.” She tipped her forehead to Reeve. “I know someone who
might want to take your mind off Bryan.”

“He is cute,” I
admitted.

She nudged me with an elbow. “He
thinks you’re cute too. Let’s go chat.”

When we returned to the boys, Jill
struck up a conversation with Nate, sliding into her role as
wingwoman.

Reeve moved closer to me. “So, you
liked the show?”

“It was great.”

“What did you think about the
modern feel of it?”

“It was the
best.
Master of the House
was like a Jay-Z rap, and when you sang
Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
you sounded like the lead singer of Arcade Fire, and they’re
only my favorite band ever.”

“Arcade Fire pretty much sets the
standard for musical awesome. They’re amazing.”

“And so was your show. I was
definitely into it.”

“What else are you into, Kat?” he
asked.

I wasn’t sure if it was a prelude
to a line, so I answered him directly. “Movies. I like movies.
You?”

“I’d like to star in some movies,”
he said. “I have an audition next week for a Joss Whedon
film.”

“Wow. That would be
incredible.”

I’d dated an actor once and it
hadn’t worked out, but Reeve had the self-confidence Michael
lacked. So as we talked about our shared love of all things Joss
Whedon, I let my mind wander to his mouth, imagining what it would
be like to kiss him. His lips were red and full, and he smelled of
sweat and beer and the adrenaline of a fabulous opening night. I
bet he tasted good, like charisma, like stage presence, like a star
in the making who knew how to perform. I bet I’d enjoy the kiss.
But I couldn’t kiss him tonight. I’d already been kissed by someone
who could turn me inside out. By someone who had tilted my
world.

When the night wound down, Reeve
asked if I wanted to go somewhere quieter and have a nightcap. The
offer would be tempting to almost any girl, but it was wasted on
me. “I think you’re incredibly talented and will have an epic
career,” I said to Reeve. “I have an early wake-up call tomorrow so
I should go.”

I was caught up in Bryan, no
matter how hard I tried to protect myself. He was the one I wanted.
He was the one I’d never stopped wanting. I only wished Bryan
wanted me in the same way. Body and heart.

Chapter Eleven

I spent the weekend working with
my parents at their store, which took my mind off the way I’d run
out on Bryan, and the way he hadn’t seemed to care. I prepped with
my mom for her online deal, and helped my dad sort through some
overdue bills. I even slipped one from a vendor into my purse. I’d
pay that bill myself thanks to an order for ten necklaces that had
been placed online over the weekend from a shop on the Upper West
Side.

My parents took me to the train
station on Sunday night, and walked me to the tracks. My mom still
had a visible limp from the car accident and probably always would,
but she kept up.

“I know why you came out this
weekend, my Katerina.” My mom was the only one I let use my full
name.

“I came here to see you guys,” I
said, trying to dodge and dart.

She gave me a sharp, stern look,
the kind only moms can give. “You’re worried about us. But we’re
going to be fine. The store is going to be fine.”

“Yes, you need to focus on
finishing school, not checking up on us,” my dad said.

“I took care of My Favorite
Mistakes in the evenings and I did homework when there weren’t any
customers,” I said, then winced. I shouldn’t have brought up the
obvious. But then, maybe I should. The sagging store was the
elephant in the room and they were trying to deny it. I was struck
by the realization of how very alike we were. The three of us
trafficked in everything-is-fine here attitudes, but inside we were
trying to stiff-upper-lip it through life’s challenges.

“And that’s what you should focus
on, Kat.” My dad pulled me in for a goodbye hug.

I hugged my mom next as my train
pulled into the station. But before I boarded, I looked back at
them, gathered up my courage, and said, “I know times are hard for
you guys. I’m going to help. I promise. I have a plan.”

Then I hopped on the train, and
waved. I didn’t want to give them the space to fashion a
no.

*****

The next few weeks raced by in a
blur of classes and homework for my Innovation & Design class
and my Management course. I took copious laptop notes during school
hours, and turned those notes and research into reports and
projects. I filled many other hours perusing the latest European
design blogs, bringing custom orders to the boutiques around the
city that carried my line, and tending to online sales. I was
wearing a tread on the sidewalk from my apartment to the nearest
post office from the number of times I went there to ship orders. I
stayed up late and woke up early, and I was exhausted, but I
couldn’t complain because I was on track for a strong quarter, and
I would be able to peel off a little bit to help my parents. It
wasn’t enough, but it was a start. I didn’t hear from Claire
Oliver, but I kept checking email and my phone, hoping for some
sort of update from my professor’s wife.

All things considered, the work
and the business were the easiest parts of those weeks.

The real challenge, and I hoped to
earn an A for avoidance, was steering clear of one-on-time with
Bryan when I went to his midtown offices as part of the mentorship.
The first time there, I attended a meeting as the design team
presented the new additions to the holiday line for his approval. I
left the conference room quickly when it ended, but he followed me
down the hall, calling out to me.

“Hey Kat,” he
said.

I stopped,
turned around, and adopted a
how-can-I-help-you look
?

“Um, I’d love to know what you
thought about the new additions?” he asked, but he didn’t sound
like the same guy who’d just signed off on a new series of
cufflinks. He sounded nervous.

“They’re just
great,” I said, then gave him a double thumbs up, like a
politician.

“Do you want to sit down and talk
some more? I’d really love your detailed feedback.”

I looked at my
watch for effect. “Oh. Darn. I would, but I have an evening lecture
I need to get to in twenty minutes.
I have
to go
.”

Then I marched off to the
elevators, hoping the last words were not lost on him.

He tried again the next week when
I ran into him at the water cooler, and he awkwardly asked me to
check out copy for an ad slated to run in GQ.

“You’re
reviewing ad copy now?” I asked in a questioning tone. I’d never
known CEOs to be involved at the level of ad copy. A CEO’s role in
marketing was more at a budget and branding level.

“Yeah. Sure. I
always do,” he said, but his cheeks turned red, as if it were
simply an excuse. I followed him to his office, but stood in the
doorway, forcing him to bring the ad sample to me.

“Maybe just move the tagline over
here,” I said crisply, and pointed to the left hand corner of the
photo. “I have to go meet with Nicole now.”

Then I dashed off to see Nicole
Blazer, a smart and stylish pint-sized redhead. She was one of
Bryan’s early business advisors on the design side, and also served
on the company’s board. She had the kind of gravelly voice that you
think comes from smoking. When we first met, she shook my hand and
said, “I don’t smoke. Never have. Was just blessed with this kind
of huskiness.”

“Huskiness rules,” I said, and
grinned. I had a feeling we’d get along fine.

Today, as I stepped into her
office, she gestured to an array of tie clips and money holders on
her desk. “Prototypes for a new line. Today, your job is to be a
fresh pair of eyes and tell me what sucks and what doesn’t
suck.”

She was direct and I liked it.
There were no mixed messages or awkward questions with Nicole
Blazer. I pointed to a gold money holder. “I have this theory that
gold is becoming passé.”

“Gold passé? How’s that frigging
possible?”

“Well, not gold as in the only
thing that actually keeps its value. But gold jewelry. Rose gold is
all the rage.”

“Right. Of course.”