Chapter 5

5

E LIZABETH

“What the hell?” I mutter to myself, running a trembling hand through my hair.

I tip my gaze down and answer David’s call while rising from my bed and moving to the living room.

Chloe’s face is pressed against the window, and she has a pizza box in her hand.

Squinting, she looks inside, probably not seeing much.Even so, I step back, my heart skipping beats as I think fast.

Not again.

I spin around, head to the bedroom, and answer David’s call before putting him on speaker.

“Hi. Listen. Bad news,” I say in a rush, going straight to the bathroom, where I put my phone down and peel off my robe.

“What happened?” he asks, concern woven in his voice.

“Chloe is here with a pizza. She came unannounced,” I say, the volume of my voice going up a notch. “And I need to change,” I huff out, spinning away, picking up my sweatpants and an old T-shirt before using a cotton round to wipe away my lipstick.

Seconds later, I’m bent over, splashing water over my face and laughing nervously, while Chloe calls out my name outside.

“What is wrong with her?” I push out through grinding teeth. “She didn’t even call me.”

He doesn’t comment.

Finally, I'm way deep in my little drama.

“David?”

“Yes,” he says evenly.

I freeze.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice softening considerably. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says in a different voice. “And don’t be mad at her. She’s your friend. It’s normal to show up uninvited.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, not contesting the logic of his words, mostly unsure of his feelings about me.

Chloe’s voice travels around the house, which makes me think she’s heading to the back entrance.

“I’m at the hotel. Call me later, if you can. If not, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

His voice is calm and settled while a twister of anguish moves maniacally through my veins.

Let's say he’s cool with it.

He might be, but I’m not.

I wanted to see him tonight. I wanted to hear his sultry voice, get lost in his haunting eyes, and have him make me come with his words. And later, I wanted him to be furious because I couldn’t feel his touch and didn’t have him here with me.

Now we’re back to exchanging messages––I’m sick of them––and postponing seeing each other.

The reality is we’re too busy during the day to stop and flirt on the phone.

This is not working, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t notice that already.

“Okay. We’ll talk then,” I say, just as Chloe knocks on the back door.

I end the call, glance in the mirror, gather my hair into a messy ponytail, and walk out to open the door for her.

ELIZABETH

Her eyes go to mine, a flicker of surprise falling through her gaze.

“What’s with you? Did you cry?”

I push out a fake smile.

“No. Of course not. Why would I smile silly if I cried?”

I invite her in and check the backyard out of habit before closing and locking the door and following her into the living room.

“Are we eating here or in the kitchen?” she asks.

“The kitchen is good,” I say, already searching for two plates in the cupboard. “What do you want to drink?” I ask with my back to her.

“Can I have a soda?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have beer by any chance?”

“Beer?” I ask, my hand on the refrigerator door. “Since when are you drinking beer?”

She shrugs, her cheeks flushed. I run my eyes over her. She wears red pants and a yellow ski jacket.

“You know I don’t have beer,” I say, peeling my eyes away from her and scooping out a can of soda from the fridge.

“Say thank you,” I joke, handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she says like a schoolgirl before removing her jacket and draping it over the back of her chair.

“So…” I murmur, setting the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Her drink fizzles as she opens her soda and takes a swig.

“Mmm. I was thirsty,” she says, running the back of her hand over her lips. “The occasion. Oh. I wanted us to celebrate the fact that I got the job.”

“Right.” I laugh. “How did you get here?”

“I called a cab.”

She becomes restless in her seat.

“What?” I ask, looking at her motherly.

“Can I get some slippers? I’m not comfortable in my shoes.

“Yeah, sure. I have a pair in my bedroom.”

“All right.”

“They’re in the closet,” I say, although she’s already out the door.

I hear her voice in the other room but can’t make up what she’s saying.

Eventually, she looms in the doorway with the box of books I usually keep under my bed. The one where David’s gift––Rain’s special edition book–– and a good chunk of cash have been deposited.

I already have a piece of pizza in my mouth, and it goes stale as I stare at her, my lips parted, my voice dead.

Kill me now.

“Are they here? I couldn’t find them.”

Oh, there’s hope.

I chew rapidly on my food and swallow it as if it’s contraband goods before rising out of my seat and moving toward her like a vulture.

“No. Absolutely not.”

I pretty much confiscate the box and dash to the bedroom. There’s no safe place to hide it, but I push it under the bed again, like it’s nothing, and get her slippers from the closet.

“Here,” I say sternly.

She seems distracted but not that distracted,

“What’s in that box?”

“Box?”

“Yeah. The one under the bed.”

She has a smile on her face, and now, I can’t tell whether her question is a trap, she’s testing me, or truly she’s curious about the box.

“Some old books and trinkets. Stuff I took from Terry’s house and couldn’t find a place for.”

“Speaking of books. Have you tried to write again?”

I let out a sigh of relief before a new wave of panic sweeps through me.

“Yeah, I have. And I couldn’t keep the story straight.”

Luckily, we walk away from my bedroom and claim our seats at the kitchen table.

We start to eat, and I forget about wanting a cup of tea. I’m no longer thirsty. I shove food into my mouth, but she hardly notices.

Hungry as she is, she gets wrapped up in the mix of melted cheese, baked cherry tomatoes and dough, and aromatic basil tickling her palate.

“Maybe you should try a different story,” she says before pausing to run a napkin over her lips.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I don’t seem to get it right. Besides, romance is not for me, it seems.”

She takes a bite and looks at me thoughtfully, chewing on her food.

“Art imitates life.”

Cracking a smile, I look down.

“Something like that,” I comment, focusing on my pizza. “I can’t get the male lead right.”

She laughs, amused.

“Tell me about it. That’s the book you should write. Nobody can get the male lead right.”

We both chuckle.

“No one will read that book. I think we like that we don’t get him right.”

I pin my eyes on her, and she evades my stare.

She hasn’t talked about men since she had an encounter with that man in that club.

“We’re gluttons for pain,” she mutters philosophically, and I withhold a comment.

She swallows the last piece of pizza from her plate and scoops up another slice.

“I think you should try your hand at something lighter,” she says, her eyes glinting with excitement at the idea of more pizza.

The way these simple things work makes us happy.

“Like thrillers?” I suggest, smiling.

She gestures at me.

“Yeah. Why not? Add some humor to them, and you'll have a dark comedy.

“Not many people will laugh, though.”

“You never know.”

“That’s true.”

I pause for a moment.

“I might, though. I want to write. I just don’t want to write a romantic story. It’s not in me right now.”

“There,” she agrees, just as my phone buzzes.

I take it out of my pocket and notice an alert on that app. It’s that man again. The random guy with a weird account name. A string of letters and numbers and no profile picture.

Although right below, he put his name. Fabio.

You can’t make this up.

Well, Fabio gives me the creeps.

I don’t answer, and I ponder ways of blocking him, if that’s even possible.

I am kind of starting to question this entire setup.

Can people truly scrap your info from these places?

I mean, nothing is out there in the open, but what do I know? I have colleagues who can track people down using their phone numbers.

I hope that’s not the case here, and this is not one of those guys.

That would be weird.

And beyond creepy.

“Everything all right?” Chloe asks, pulling me out of my head.

Startled, I lift my eyes and slide my phone back into my pocket.

“Yes. Scammers. You know my luck,” I say, a smidgen of panic still spinning in my mind.

The guys who do that at school also hack into accounts and get pictures of women and stuff.

Some do it out of revenge.

Others do it because they’re bored.

Maybe I’m going too far with this.

Waving off that stupid thought, I concentrate on the food in front of me.

“I think I want some tea,” I say, pushing the chair back before pulling away from the table.

ELIZABETH

I stare out the window as Chloe vanishes inside the cab when my phone pings.

Tonight has been crazy.

My eyes move down.

Thea?

I read my cousin’s text message.

Oh, shit.

She and Rain throw Halloween parties this year.

Soft like a Christmas sock, I slide into a chair at the kitchen table.

Oh, man.

There is no way I can go meet David in New York.

This thing with him becomes more and more impossible with every passing day.

Blankly, I stare at the text message when something catches my eye. Their party is on Thursday, October 30th.

Okay.

I pull upright and look at the calendar. And Chloe’s party is on Friday, October 31st.

Ughh.

I won’t be able to leave for a thousand reasons, and now there’s another one.

There’s no way I can be away that weekend.

I check the time. It’s late but not that late, so I call my mother.

“Hey. Is everything all right?” she asks in one breath.

“Yes. Everything is good,” I say, calm and smiling. “What are you doing?”

The noise in the background hints at her watching TV.

She turns the volume down.

“Nothing,” she murmurs.

“What were you watching?”

“Some stupid show. They said it’d be funny. And they lied, of course. What’s up with you?”

“I have a little bit of a problem…” I start, still mulling over my plan.

If I fly to New York, I better start putting my plan in place tonight.

This is going to be a stretch.

“Bad problem or good problem?” she asks.

That has always been her belief.

Not all problems are the same, and she might be right.

“It’s a good problem.”

“Go on.”

I sigh.

“Everybody seems to organize a Halloween party this year.”

“Who’s everybody? And what’s wrong with that?” She says right away. I love Halloween. Even I will have a few people over my house that night.”

“What people?”

“I don’t know. People. You can come here, too.”

“Well, that’s the problem. I can’t be in several places at the same time. Plus…” I say and stall.

“I’m listening.”

I give her the scoop on the two parties.

“And why can’t you go?”

“I might go to Thea’s party. I also have something else to do that weekend.”

And here comes the difficult part.

Will she believe me?

“What exactly do you have to do?”

“I’m flying to New York.”

I wince like I have pain in my knees.

“You what? What are you doing in New York?”

Her concern is thicker than the table.

“I got a, um… A job interview?”

“You’re not sure?”

“That’s why I called to talk to you.”

I feel bad about involving my mother in this, but I need her help to pull it off.

“What kind of job is this? And why does it have to be in New York?”

Bafflement doesn’t even begin to describe what beams in her voice.

“It’s one of those corporate jobs.”

“In New York? You’re moving to New York? You haven’t even finished school.”

She sounds more aggravated with every word she pushes out.

“Hear me out. And don’t panic. The job itself won’t be in New York. If I get this job…” I add, hitting a snag.

Maybe this is crazy.

Maybe this will only bring unwanted attention to me.

“Please tell me more.”

I suck in a long breath and continue.

“I need to know what kind of job it is,” she says before I have the chance to speak.

“It’s a regular job. In a corporation.”

“Elizabeth.”

I screwed it.

“It’s a job that pays good money. Someone at school showed me the ad. They’re looking for executive assistants.”

“Has that person applied?”

“No. That’s why she suggested I should give it a try. The money is good, and there is upward mobility.”

“What happened to your dream of traveling around the world and studying archaeological dig sites?”

“We both know that won’t pay much money?”

“What about your book? You said you wanted to become a writer.”

She got me. I said so many things, and here I am lying about a job that doesn’t exist so I can go meet a man I should have no business meeting in the first place.

‘Shame on you,’ the voice inside my head mocks.

I wave her off, grinding my teeth.

The thing is, I don’t want to come off like some clueless person who’s vacillating between things.

“I didn’t give up on that. Not my book. And not the archaeological dig sites. It’s just that I have to be more pragmatic about these things.”

“Speaking of that. Who pays for your trip?”

“Them,” I say quickly. “The company.”

A few moments pass.

“I don’t understand. Why do you have to go there if the job is here?’

“It’s an international company, and they want to assess our skills and compatibility with that world. Anyway. I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. There are no guarantees I’ll be getting that job. It’s just an opportunity I don’t want to miss. It doesn’t cost me anything. And if it works out, I might get a new job. Something different than selling clothes in a store. I could have something more stable when I graduate. You know… I’m thinking about the future.”

The more I talk, the more persuasive I become. And I start to believe what I’m saying.

“All right,” she says. “Is that the only thing you wanted to discuss? You were talking about the Halloween parties.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s the only thing I wanted to run by you. I wanted to talk to you before declining Chloe’s invitation.”

I frankly feel relieved that my mother bought the story, although convincing Chloe might not be easy.

I’m hoping that because my mother bought it, she’ll regard it less suspiciously.

And I still need to go to Thea’s party.

That’s going to be a busy week.

Oh, boy.