Authors: Eliza Kennedy
“What a drag.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint her. I should have been more honest. I still have a hard time communicating with her.” He pauses. “Maybe I should get plastered and meet them for breakfast tomorrow. Give them a taste of the real me.”
I cringe. “I’m so sorry, Will.”
He takes my hand across the table and kisses it. “I know.”
After dinner we walk down to the docks. Will stops to examine a weedy patch of soil in front of a bar. He’s always doing something like that—scuffing through dirt with his shoe, absentmindedly gazing down at the trash in the subway tracks. Professional habit, I guess. Now he plucks out a few long blades of grass and tugs at them like he’s testing them for strength.
“Did you run out of floss?” I tease him. “You can borrow some of mine.”
He only smiles at me and slips them into his pocket.
We share an ice cream cone on the way back to the hotel. Guilt is nagging me. He told me so much about his childhood. Shouldn’t I have told him the truth about what happened when I was fourteen? Why I really left?
But it’s ancient history. He can’t know me from my past. As an archaeologist, he might quibble with that statement. But it’s true. Will knows the important stuff. Most of it, anyway. Or he will. After we’re married.
Because we’re getting married.
I’m done with the dithering and the indecisiveness. Symmetry, cohesion and continuity. That’s what I want.
Okay, but the lying. The lying is bad. Still, I can change. I’ve been in an adjustment period, and now it’s over. No more cheating, no more lying. No more feeling bad about the cheating and the lying. It’s good-bye to the old me. Everything that came before, up to this very moment? It’s in the past.
And the past doesn’t matter.
We walk up the drive of the hotel. “What should we do now?” Will asks.
I smile up at him. “You really have to ask?”
He laughs and holds the door open for me. “This morning wasn’t enough for you?”
Here we go—the perfect opportunity to try out my new approach! We walk into the lobby. “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Then I stop.
There’s a man sitting on a sofa, a man in a suit. I can’t see his face—he’s half turned, as if something in another part of the room has caught his attention. He’s rubbing his head absently, his hand moving back and forth over his short hair.
He looks nervous. He never used to look nervous.
Now he turns toward the door and sees me. He stands up. My stomach drops. I have this overwhelming urge to turn and run toward the elevator, but somehow I resist.
We’re watching each other. Waiting it out.
“Hi,” he says at last.
And with that one syllable, the spell is broken.
“Teddy!” I run up to him and practically jump into his arms. He stiffens, then gives in, his arms encircling me reluctantly. “What are you doing here?”
“I—”
“Will!” I cry, turning to look for him. He’s standing right next to me. “There you are. Will, this is Teddy! You were asking about my friends. Teddy was my friend, growing up. My best friend in the whole world. Teddy, this is Will.”
They shake hands, both doing that wary man-nod thing.
“We’re getting married, Teddy!”
He turns back to me. “Yeah, I heard you—”
“Do you want to come?”
Will laughs. “Let the guy breathe, Lily.”
I stop talking. Teddy doesn’t say anything. How did I recognize him? He looks so different. I used to have two or three inches on him. Now he’s the tall one. His hair is darker. And so short. Why is it so short?
At the same time, he hasn’t changed at all. Same face. Same big ears. Same grey eyes, giving nothing away.
“Let’s get a drink,” I say. “Catch up.”
“I can’t. I’m working.”
He’s watching me steadily. Is he as calm as he looks? I keep talking, desperate to fill the air. “What do you do?”
“I work for the FDLE,” he replies.
I burst out laughing, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Seriously?”
He pulls out his wallet with the air of amused tolerance I remember so well. He has a badge. Special Agent, Florida Department of Law Enforcement. “And you live here?” I say, examining it. “You’re back?”
“For the last six months. Stop looking through my wallet.”
I take one of his business cards and hand the wallet back. “How’s being home?”
“You know. It’s home.”
I look at the card, then up at him. He’s still watching me.
“I’m beat,” Will says, startling me. I’d almost forgotten he was there. To Teddy he says, “It was great to meet you.” He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and heads for the elevator.
Teddy and I sit down. He’s so grown up, so professional-looking. He’s wearing a suit, for God’s sake.
It’s impossible. Any second now he’s going to toss the badge and the awful tie and say, “Had you going there!” And then we’ll have a good laugh.
Because Teddy can’t be a cop. He just can’t be.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. “I mean right now. At the hotel.”
“Meeting someone,” he says.
“A girl?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“A witness. Someone I need to interview.” He looks around, as if the witness might be lurking somewhere in the room.
“I can’t believe you’re a cop.”
He turns back to me, the ghost of a smile on his face. “I can’t believe you’re a lawyer.”
“Touché. How’d you know?”
He shrugs. “Word gets around.”
Chatty as ever. The ice is thawing, though. If ice is what’s between us.
“It’s so good to see you! How have you been?” I reach out and touch his knee.
He yanks it away. “Don’t, Lily.”
“What?”
He stands up. “This was a mistake.”
“What was a mistake?”
“I have to go.”
“What about your witness?”
“There’s no witness,” he says. “I wanted … forget it. I’ll see you around.”
“Teddy, wait!”
But he’s walking away, he’s pushing through the door. He’s gone.
I poke my head into the lobby bar, but I don’t see anyone I know. I wander outside. The pool is empty, a breeze whipping up little waves on the surface. I walk down to the beach and sit on an empty chair, watching the water.
When I get up to the room, Will is just coming out of the shower. I stretch out on the sofa. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks.
“No thanks.”
He opens a beer. “So, Teddy.”
“Teddy.”
“Were you guys boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Nope.” The door to the balcony is open, and it’s chilly in here. I pull my sweater more tightly around me.
“No?” Will asks. “I thought I detected … I don’t know. Something.”
I smile at him. “Jealous?”
“Absolutely. He knew you when you were all pimply and moody, and I didn’t.”
“I was a real prize back then.” I lean my head back against the arm of the sofa and look out at the night. “But no. We were just friends. I left, and we lost touch. That’s it.”
I open my eyes
. Freddy is standing next to the bed.
“You have to help me,” she whispers.
“Okay,” I whisper back.
“I wake up this morning? And some psycho is, like, looming over me.”
“Sounds scary.”
“She looked like a hamster.”
“Oh!” I sit up. “That’s just Mattie.”
“She dumps these shopping bags on my bed,” Freddy continues, holding them up to show me. “Then she says she hopes I brought my own glue gun.”
Deep from under the covers, Will groans.
“I mean, I did,” Freddy says, “but who acts like that, right?”
The shopping bags contain candied almonds, fake flowers, champagne-colored gauze bags and a long note, which I skim. “She wants us to assemble the wedding favors.”
“Yay, crafting!” Freddy hops onto the bed. “Let’s order room service.”
“How did you get in here?” Will asks groggily.
“I went out with one of the desk clerks last night.” Freddy yanks the cord of my bedside lamp out of the socket and plugs in her glue gun. “Let’s just say her gratitude knows no bounds.”
Over breakfast, Freddy and I fill bags with almonds while Will reads the paper. “Listen to this,” he says. “A man was arrested on Southard Street for jumping through a window, tackling a homeowner, emptying
a vacuum cleaner canister onto the floor and masturbating on a pile of clean laundry. Stark naked the entire time.”
“Florida.” I smile. “Home sweet home.”
Freddy points the glue gun at a pile of sea grass drying on the windowsill. “What’s with the dying foliage?”
“Will’s been collecting it. He won’t tell me why.”
She looks at him. “It’s a secret,” he says.
A cell phone rings. “Whose is that?” she asks.
“It’s my second phone,” Will replies, silencing it.
“Yeah? For your second family?”
He laughs. “It’s for work.”
“Will has a double life,” I tell Freddy. “By day, he’s a brilliant, mild-mannered archaeologist, but when the sun goes down, he reveals his true identity as—”
“Wait wait! Let me guess.” Freddy peers at him. “A cold-blooded CIA killer.”
“A high-flying drug dealer,” I say.
“A mutant superhero,” she suggests.
“Pope Francis!”
“Both!”
Will smiles as he powers off the phone. “You’re not even close.”
Freddy and I finish the favors, and she leaves for the pool. I sit down next to Will on the sofa.
“Hi,” I say.
He folds the paper. “Hi.”
I curl up to him. He reaches for me. We start kissing. I slide my hands underneath his t-shirt and up his back.
He breaks off and checks my phone. “Look at the time.”
Ugh, he’s right. I’m going to be late for my prep.
We get up. He heads into the shower while I dress. “I should be done by two,” I say through the bathroom door. “Meet me back here?”
“I’ll try, but I’ve got a busy day. Lunch with the groomsmen. Picking up the tuxedos. And tonight’s my bachelor party. I might not see you.” He pokes his head out. “Good luck with work.”
He kisses me and disappears. I loiter around for a minute, but all I
hear is running water. I guess a repeat of yesterday morning isn’t going to happen.
I go downstairs and stop at the front desk, next to a sign that says
RENTAL CARS AVAILABLE
.
“I need something sporty,” I tell the man behind the counter.
“So do I,” he says.
“Do you have a Jaguar?”
He taps at his computer. “Got an XK. A convertible.” Tap tap tap. “It’ll run you four hundred ten dollars a day.”
“Perfect!” I hand him my license. “Go ahead and give it to me for the week.”
“Room number?”
“I’m going to put it on my corporate card.” I pause. “Actually, would you mind writing on the invoice that it’s a Ford Focus?”
He looks at me over the top of the screen. “That the Jag is a Ford Focus.”
“Yes,” I say.
“But you want the Jag.”
“Yes. But I want you to say it’s a Ford Focus.”
“That’s a pricey Ford Focus,” he remarks.
“Maybe it’s a turbo.”
“They don’t come turbo,” he says.
“Are you going to do this for me or not?”
He thinks about it for a second. “Not.”
“Whatever.” I hand him my corporate card. “Lyle will just have to deal.”
I drive north on U.S. 1 toward Marathon Key. I’m passing through Sugarloaf when Mattie calls. “The wedding favors are waiting for you at the front desk,” I tell her.
“Oh,
wonderful
! I felt terrible asking you to do it. I know how busy you are. In two days I’ve seen how your life is … it’s so …”
“Hectic?”
“Well, yes, but more—”
“Harrowing?”
“Oh, I don’t know if—”
“The stuff of legend?”
“Complicated,”
she says. “I hate burdening you with something minor like this, but I didn’t have a moment to spare.”
“No worries,” I say. “It was a laff riot. It was a long ride on the chuckle truck.”
“Sorry dear, what?”
“It was fine,” I say. “Freddy and I had fun.”
She yammers on about a few other things, then we hang up. I put the top down and turn up the radio. It’s another beautiful day. Too bad I have to spend it indoors.
Not too,
too
bad, though. I told Will’s mom the truth yesterday: I like my job. And I’m pretty good at it. I’m a decent analytical thinker, I’m quick on my feet and I have a good memory. I’m especially talented at prepping witnesses for deposition. I ought to be—I’ve done it dozens of times. At a big firm like mine, junior lawyers aren’t allowed to do the fun stuff, like appearing in court or actually taking depositions. Preparing witnesses is about as much responsibility as we get. And for good reason: nobody graduates from law school knowing anything about being a lawyer. A recent law grad is like a newborn panda, mewling and useless. She needs a few years of growth and experience before she can be released into the wild without getting eaten. I chose my firm because it’s one of the best at training lawyers. And I’m learning a lot.
I just wish it wasn’t in the service of EnerGreen. Some people are on the side of angels? I’m right here, next to the red dude with the big fork. Not always—not all the firm’s clients are evil—but EnerGreen is. I have to keep reminding myself that my purpose right now is essentially selfish. If I don’t become a decent lawyer, I’m of no use to anyone. After a few years, I can leave the dark side and use my amazing legal skills to do something useful.
Because being a lawyer is great. It’s mentally engaging and competitive and fun. Work is really the only time that I feel focused.
That’s not true. One other thing focuses me. But I don’t get paid for it.
That’s not true. I got paid for it once.
Misunderstanding!
Anyway, I’m good at prepping witnesses because I’m good at reading
people. That’s a little gift I inherited from Gran. It’s what made her such a great lawyer—intuition that allowed her to size up clients, connect with witnesses and persuade judges and juries. Like her, I always know when someone is lying. I can divine a person’s true intentions and motivations.