The Good Life (21 page)

I spent the evening unpacking the bags I’d haphazardly packed that morning and repacking them in a neater way. I brought them downstairs and put them by the back door when I was done so they’d be ready to grab when I left in the morning.

And then I waited … a long time. I was watching
Chelsea Lately
in the living room when I finally heard his Jeep pull into the driveway. I got up and went into the kitchen to greet him at the back door. I felt like jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist like I’d seen people do in photos a lot but never in real life. But he wasn’t alone. My brother walked in behind him.

Oh yeah. They were friends after all. I guess they would hang out together every once in awhile. But this really wasn’t something I wanted to talk about in front of my brother so that meant I had to wait until Adam went to sleep. Oh well. At least he didn’t walk in the door with Carmen or some other shooter girl with perfect legs.

“I made some barbeque,” I told them. “And homemade slaw.”

“Fantastic!” Adam said and grabbed a plate right away.

Jake looked less enthusiastic, but even a guy who is mad at you doesn’t turn down food. Throughout getting his plate, filling it up and eating, he avoided my eyes the entire time. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. He was making me angrier every second. And the strangest thing about it was that I wanted him more the madder I got.

I told them I was going to bed, but I really just wanted to get away so I could wait for Jake to come upstairs and ambush him. That doesn’t sound totally stalker-esque does it?

I played some apps on my Kindle while I waited.
Grrr … hurry the hell up already!

Finally, FINALLY, I heard a beep on my phone.

JAKE:
Are you awake?

Just seeing his name made my stomach feel like I was going downhill on a roller coaster.

ME:
Yes

JAKE:
Can I come in?

ME:
Of course

I got out of bed and opened the door so Jake wouldn’t have to knock, and Adam wouldn’t get suspicious. When Jake reached the top of the stairs he slipped into my room like a snake, and I quickly closed the door behind him, leaving us in darkness except for the light on my Kindle Fire screen.

I hugged him because I’d really hated our argument earlier, and I was glad he was home. He smelled like beer. I know this is weird, and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with all of the sexual experimenting I did when I was in high school, because beer was usually involved, but the scent of beer on a guy’s breath was a huge turn-on for me. And being in the dark, and so close …

But I made a promise that I wouldn’t use him as a distraction anymore, and I wasn’t going to break it on the first day. At least, it wasn’t my intention to. But Jake didn’t pat my head this time. He hugged me back. Tightly, too.

“I’ve been waiting for you all night,” I whispered into his neck.

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Then he kissed me. It was rougher than usual. He was aggressive.

He wrapped his hands into the bun on the back of my head and held my face so tightly to his that even if I’d tried to pull away, I couldn’t. Not that I tried to pull away. I had enough self-control not to start anything with him. But once he started it, it was over. I wasn’t trying to stop him. The only thing I tried to do was catch my breath before he took it from me again.

He snapped my head back with a quick pull of my hair and I gasped. He kissed my shoulder, my neck, and just under my chin.

“Why?” he asked quietly when his mouth was right by my ear.

“Why what?” Why was he talking? I couldn’t even think, let alone form words.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.

“We’ll talk later,” I told him. “Right now I just want you to fuck me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He threw me onto the bed and, not long after, he ripped those ruffles right off my butt. Better late than never.

“We seriously have to stop doing this,” I said quietly. We’d been quiet the whole time since my brother was home. There was something seriously hot about quiet sex in the dark. It’s way underrated.

But my inability to keep it in my pants was not as hot. I was beginning to sound like a broken record. If my life was a movie, the viewers would be throwing popcorn at the screen right now. I was even annoying myself. Make up your damn mind!

He had been lying next to me but sat up in self-defense. “You’re the one who told me to fuck you!”

I sat up, too, and pulled my comforter up over my chest to keep warm. “Shhh! That’s because you’re the one who got rough with me and kissed my chin. You know you can’t pull my hair like that and kiss my chin and then
not
fuck me! It wouldn’t be right!”

“What did you think I was going to do when you pulled me into your dark bedroom? Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this. You even had on those ruffles. But I’ll take the blame if you want. I’m not the one who keeps saying we need to stop.”

I smiled and shook my head at him in disbelief. “This. Is the best argument. Ever.”

“I agree.”

“At least we agree on one thing.”

He lied back down, got comfortable and patted the bed beside him for me to lie down, too. So I did. I crawled under the covers facing him and enjoyed the comfort of being close to him.

“Why were you waiting for me all night?” he asked.

“I wanted to say thank you,” I said quietly.

“For what?”

“For telling it to me straight.”

“About the running?”

“You were right,” I said. “I have been running. I just didn’t realize it. No one ever called me out on it, and I’m glad you did. Now I can stop running and learn to deal with things instead.”

“You’re welcome. I guess. But if you’re not running anymore then why are your bags sitting by the back door?”

“My lawyer called. We’re gonna have a face-to-face with the other side to see if we can work something out.” I sighed because all of this divorce and lawyer stuff was annoying. “My lawyer thinks I should get more than fifty percent because I’ve been a homemaker all this time, and I’m the one who is going to have to get a lower paying job and get used to a lower paying lifestyle. Caleb’s not agreeing on the bigger settlement, so we’re having a sit-down. I don’t care either way. I just want it over with so I can move on. But when someone says to come to The City, I don’t argue.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” I told him. “The meeting is Wednesday morning. I was gonna ask if you could drive me to the airport so I don’t have to pay for parking. Adam has to work.”

“I could just drive you to New York.”

“You … want to come to New York?”

He shrugged. “I don’t bartend until the weekend, and I can reschedule some photo shoots. I’ve never been there, and I’d love to get some shots for my portfolio.”

I sat up, suddenly not tired anymore, and clapped my hands together in excitement. “Omigod! You have to come then. I can buy you a plane ticket with all the money I made being your underwear model!”

He looked away from me. “I can’t fly. You know.”

I’m such a douchebag! How could I forget?

Jake’s grandparents, his mom’s parents, died in a plane crash when he was six. He and his mom lived with them so Jake was super close to them both.

After the accident, he was plagued with nightmares for many years, and refused to ever set foot on a plane. I thought it was weird that he would come to the lot by the airport with me if he was so afraid of them. I guess they didn’t bother him as long as he was on the ground. But he swore he would never, ever step into one. Being on an airplane was his worst fear.

I lied back down and reached for his fingers next to mine on the bed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine. You up for a road trip?”

“Always!” I said, eagerly. “But there’s one thing you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“I am not going to have sex with you.”

He laughed.

“Ever again.” I said, determined.

“Please, Roxie, don’t challenge me. It’s only going to make me want to prove you wrong.”

“I mean it!” I said, even if I knew he could easily prove me wrong if he tried. Especially with that take-charge-and-throw-me-around shit.

“Does that mean you want me to leave?” he asked.

NO! Never!
I shook my head.

“And by the way,” I said to change the subject, “what you said earlier, about me being a gold digger –”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. Even in the dim room I could tell he looked pained and annoyed. “I told you I didn’t mean it. There’s no reason to go over it again.”

“No, there is,” I said. “You don’t know how it was. Caleb wasn’t rich when I met him. He was a normal college guy. We really struggled in the beginning. I got my wedding dress at,” I coughed because it was so hard to get the horrible words out, “David’s Bridal on clearance for ninety-nine dollars!”

I waited for him to scream in horror or give me a look of disgust after I revealed that shameful secret, but his expression didn’t change. Must be a guy thing.

“When we first moved to New York,” I continued, “we were so broke we ate meatless pasta for dinner nearly every night, and I had to wear my jeans like three times in a row because we didn’t have quarters for the laundry machines.”

“I was wrong.”

“And I have never been ashamed of you.”

He groaned. “I take back everything I said earlier! Can you drop it?”

“No, I want to explain this to you,” I said. “Bartending is a respectable profession. It requires a lot of skill.”

He sighed and rolled over to face the ceiling. I guess he was giving up on getting me to drop it.

“Serving food and drinks is not as cool of a job,” I explained. “It doesn’t require any skill, except patience. And the ability to smile in someone’s face when you really want to squeeze lemons in their eyes. It’s a fine job for someone in school, someone younger. I just feel that, at my age, I should be able to get a more professional job.”

“I get it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“The reason I have been too embarrassed to get my job back at The Bar is because I feel like working where I worked eight years ago is moving backward, ya know?”

“If you were moving forward in the wrong direction, maybe moving backward isn’t a bad thing,” he said.

“No, maybe not,” I said thoughtfully.

We were both quiet for a few minutes. Long enough for him to relax again. He took my hand in his and started running his finger up and down the inside of my palm.

Then I remembered something else he said yesterday.

“And one more thing,” I said.

He dropped my hand and groaned. He knew where this was going. “Just let it go.”

“I didn’t choose him over you.”

He took a deep breath. I could tell that my usually calm and patient friend was starting to lose that infamous patience. He sat up again. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” I said, pulling him back down. “I won’t talk about it again. Just have your facts straight. I didn’t choose him over you because I didn’t have you to choose. You told me long-distance relationships were stupid. You said it was best for us both to move on. So I did. And there is no reason to talk about it again.”

“Agreed.”

I have always been a huge fan of road trips as long as the weather was nice. Winter road trips were awful, sucky, nuggets of crap. Summer road trips were the most fun to be had in a car.

Never mind. What was I saying? Jake and I had plenty of fun in cars during
The Summer of Jake and Roxie
. Most of the time when the car wasn’t moving … if you know what I mean. And a few times when it was, wink wink. I know, it’s totally juvenile, but I mentioned before that we had to get creative at times. I had more fun with Jake in cars and trucks that summer than I ever had in my Manhattan bed, even with the best sheets and comforters money could buy.

Anyway, I’m digressing. Our first stop was McDonald’s because both of us had a few drinks last night and stayed up way too late. Everyone knows a McDonald’s Coke is the best hangover cure you can get through a drive-thru. Knowing I was about to set out on what I hoped would be a great adventure, I was in a fantastic mood. When we got to the window to pay, I told the girl working the drive-thru that I was going to pay for the order of the person behind me, too.