Charlie

I have this vision. I’m going to sweep into the catering hall, balance one tray on my head, two in each hand and save the day. Ever will watch in awe as I stick a cocktail sausage in every available mouth, weeping into her apron as I pass. Since joining the academy, I’ve been climbing ropes, running miles in a flatout sprint and doing push-ups until my arms give out. How hard can it be to offer hors d’oeuvres on a tray to people? I haven’t been to an upscale function like this, but I know people like free food. It’s like airplane cuisine. Even if you don’t like it, you eat it.

Yeah, I’m not worried about the difficulty level of dishing out grub. I’m more concerned about feeling guilty when I see Ever. Dropping to my knees and confessing my alternate identity. Reve S. Guy. I’ve been feeling like an awful shit for deceiving Ever on the dating site. So much so, it took me a couple days to call her, thinking she would hear the sins in my tone and cut me off at the knees. As soon as I heard her voice, though, I forgot about everything but my mission. God willing, she’ll never have to know about my alter ego because we’ll be back on and better than ever before next Friday. Ever and Charlie 2.0.

“I can’t believe you woke me up,” Jack complains, hanging off the subway pole, eyes still half-closed. “I was having the best dream.”

I’m checking the overhead map and counting the stops until we arrive, so I’m only half-listening. “Let me guess, there were women involved.”

“One woman.” He yawns. “But she had three tits, so like, one and a half?”

Now he has my attention. “I don’t know. Sounds distracting.” I squint an eye, trying to picture a woman with a third breast. “Where is it? Right in the middle?”

“Where do you think it is? On her fucking forehead?”

“Who knows what your brain comes up with, man,” I mutter, starting to get anxious over how long the ride is taking. Ever really sounded like she needed help, and it took me half an hour to get Jack semisober and presentable. I have a secret weapon, though, to make up for the delay. Danika is meeting us there to help out, giving Ever three for the price of one. If I was charging, which I’m not. Right now, I’m just trying to be the guy she calls when shit goes bad. Call me Mr. Fix It. At some point, she’s going to realize I’m exactly what she needs and end the dating bullshit. The sooner the better. I’ve been tearing my hair out not being able to see her. Wondering if she’s set any more world records for interest on DateMate.com, speculating on whether or not she’s getting over me with every passing minute. Basically, I’ve engaged myself in mental warfare.

Distract yourself. “What was Danika doing when you called her?”

“Writing something, I think. On that laptop of hers.” The train pulls to a stop, and Jack stumbles in the direction of the sliding metal doors. “Didn’t really hear much past her calling me a son-of-a-bitch.”

Sounds like Danika. She’s Jack’s oldest friend and my newest, but after months of sharing living space, I know her personality well. She and Jack grew up together in Hell’s Kitchen. They have the kind of oldest friend loyalty toward one another that you can’t understand unless you’re one of them. Naturally, I’d wondered if there was more to their relationship than friendship, but no. They might as well be related by blood. Danika took her calling as Jack’s friend seriously, bullying him out the door each morning, visibly determined to keep him on the straight and narrow.

As much as possible, anyway, when dealing with Jack.

Danika is hot in a sharp, intimidating, I-will-literally-cut-off-your-balls kind of way, but I’ve only ever seen her as my pal. And hell, a competitor. She keeps me on my toes during drills at the academy, pushing herself more than any of my fellow recruits.

I watch Jack narrowly miss running into a concrete pillar on the way to the escalator leading out of the train station. Maybe I need to start doing my part for Jack, too. I know he didn’t have an ideal upbringing, but I’ve never asked him if his constant drinking is a way to forget something from the past. Sometimes I catch him with a far-off expression, and my intuition tells me he isn’t just imbibing for a good time. After talking to Ever through the dating site and realizing she has this whole life I wasn’t aware of, I’ve started to wonder what else I’m missing when it comes to the people around me.

Jack hiccups as we climb above ground, both of our cells beeping as we regain reception. “Incoming,” Jack mutters, just as Danika marches toward us on the sidewalk, in combat boots and a smirk. “Hello, sweet honey child.”

“You don’t charm me, babe, I’ve known you too long.” She leans in and sniffs Jack’s breath, shaking her head. “Fuck sake, Garrett. I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

Danika turns accusing eyes on me and I’m no fool, so I reach for the sky. “He was in this condition when I found him, ma’am.” It’s not good enough, I know. There is genuine concern in her eyes and I shouldn’t make a joke, but I’m still navigating the newness of becoming the third person in their friendship. I don’t want to make light of Jack’s drinking problem, but I don’t want to overstep, either. “He just needs to get a second wind, right, man?”

“Right.” Jack winks at Danika and fast as lightning, he lifts her off the ground into a bear hug. “Come on, Danny. I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

“Not mad. Worried,” she says under her breath, but I catch it. Breaking free of Jack’s hold, she takes off down the sidewalk. “Come on, assholes, I already found the place and we’ll be lucky if there isn’t a mutiny over crab cakes by now. I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.” We catch up with Danika, and she throws me the speculative female side eye. “If I wasn’t dying to find out more about this girl who used to send you running every lunch break, I wouldn’t even have pants on right now. Are you guys back on now, or what?”

Grateful she isn’t holding Jack’s condition against me, I throw an arm across her shoulders. Jack does the same, so we’re a connected unit walking down the sidewalk. “We’re friends. Ever and I.”

Danika snorts. “I know how this story ends.”

I give her a confused look, as if I haven’t considered every angle. “We end up back in bed together? Everyone lives happily ever after leading their own lives, making their own schedules, not meeting each other’s parents and having a sex lifeline to call, whenever they want it? Sounds terrible.”

Jack fist bumps me behind Danika’s head. “I’m glad we’re friends,” he hiccups.

“For the record, Charlie, you’re playing a dangerous game. We always find out what men are up to. It’s inevitable,” Danika says, then groans. “How did I end up being the voice of reason in this trio? I like to make trouble, too, you know.”

“And we’ll be there to bail you out when that happens,” Jack drawls, ruffling her hair. “What am I supposed to do when we get there, again?” he calls to me. “Besides eat.”

I check the address we’re passing and note we’re almost there. Up ahead, I can see a swanky brownstone all lit up and know Ever is inside. Swear to God, I can feel her, and I relax completely for the first time since we were together in the bar.

I’ve missed her. A lot.

Pushing aside the realization, I steer Jack and Danika toward the brownstone. “You’re going to pop an Altoid and be your charming self. You bring your deck of cards?” He salutes me with his free hand. “Good. Your only other order of business is to stay twenty yards away from Ever at all times.”

He nods in understanding. “How am I going to get the free food?”

“I’ll bring you a plate.”

We disconnect and climb the stairs. The door is open, and voices drone out through the crack. Knowing there is no way they’ll hear a knock, I push open the door and glide inside like I own the place.

Cop walk. It gets you anywhere.

The place is jam-packed—and it’s all women. They’re dressed like they’re at a country club wedding, in pantsuits and dresses I know are expensive by just looking at them. When I was young, a police dispatcher, Malia, used to babysit me and she’d watch old episodes of Murder, She Wrote, one right after the other. This event reminds me of something out of that show, and I make a mental note to check in on Malia soon.

Nina passes by with an empty tray and without breaking stride, grabs my arm and leads me toward a staircase on the opposite side of the vestibule. Danika follows me, but Jack is already wading into the hall full of women, slipping the deck of cards from his pocket and cocking his head, as if to say, who’s ready for some actual fun?

Bringing Jack might have been a bad idea. He’d learned to entertain the johns in the brothel where his mother worked, while they waited for their appointment. He entertained the women, too, when they weren’t occupied. But this isn’t exactly his typical crowd.

My concern is replaced by . . . more concern when we walk into the kitchen and I spot Ever looking frantic. My steps falter along with the ticker in my chest, I think because until that moment, I’m not sure I knew Ever. And something inside me rebels over that fact. This is what she does? I pictured her drizzling strawberries with chocolate, dressed in a cute apron and nothing else. Instead, she’s like a beautiful pinball bouncing back and forth between the stove and a stainless-steel table lined with trays. This is what she loves. What she loves is hard. We have this in common, same way we have pressure from our parents in common.

I hear a low whistle and glance over at Danika, finding her staring at my profile. “I take it back. I have no idea how this story ends.” She nudges me. “Go to her, Lancelot.”

I do. Because I don’t have a choice. I’m going to make this night better for Ever, or I’ll consider my whole life a failure. I make footprints in the layer of flour on the floor as I walk toward her. When I’m five feet away, she turns, a hunk of blonde hanging down in front of her right eye. “Can you pin my hair back? My hands are covered in . . . everything.”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never done it before,” I say honestly, looking down at my hands, all my fingers turning into thumbs. “Where is the pin?”

She cocks her hip at me. “Pocket.”

Solid. I’ve only been here one minute and I’m already touching her, sliding my fingers into her pocket, all while staring at her mouth. That pouty, kiss factory I always have trouble leaving alone long enough to get our clothes off. There isn’t a lot of time spent rejoicing over having my digits in Ever’s pocket, though, because what the fuck is this plastic contraption I’ve just pulled out? It’s got teeth and it looks like a clam. “Okay, I can do this,” I mumble. “How do I do this?”

“Pinch the top together. There.” She tilts her head. “Just get that one piece, stick it on top of my head and lock the little spikes around it.”

Jesus, her hair is soft. I knew that, didn’t I? Her ear is perfect, too, like a peach-colored shell or—

“Focus, Charlie.”

“Sorry.” I manage to secure the hair on top of her head and release the pent-up breath I didn’t realize was being stored in my lungs. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” There’s a streak of green sauce on her cheek, and she rubs it off on her shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Her eyes dip to my mouth and I almost do it. I almost kiss her. But she looks past me before I potentially blow my first real chance to be her friend. “You were with Charlie the day we met, but we kind of . . .”

“Gave each other a tongue bath?” my smart-ass roommate supplies. “I’m Danika.” She steps into my periphery, eyeballing the half-full tray Ever is working on. “Charlie and I are in the academy together. I have no romantic interest in him, should that be of any concern to you.”

“Thanks, Danny,” I say dryly.

Ever’s gaze cuts sideways, but she doesn’t give me any clue as to what she thinks of Danika’s remark. Dammit. “Nice to meet you, Danika.” She wiggles her food-covered fingers. “I would shake your hand . . .”

“No worries. Put us to work.”

Ever shakes herself, as if she’d been plunged back into reality and reality is a kitchen full of boiling pots and oven timers going off. “Now that I can do.”

For the next ten minutes, I feel like a spare tool. Actually, I would like to go back in time and slap the version of myself I’d been on the subway. I was not Ever’s white knight charging in on a noble steed. Ever is her own knight. I’m the court jester.

She moves like nothing I’ve ever seen. While I didn’t grow up with a woman in the kitchen, so I have nothing with which to compare Ever’s style, I pick up on a few nuances as I watch her prepare the next round of hors d’oeuvres. Detective’s eye and all that jazz. Her movements aren’t . . . precise, exactly. They’re somewhat stilted, like she’s learning as she goes. She has notecards propped up in various spots on the counter and checks them frequently, her lips moving as she reads the words.

When I take my phone out and secretly film her, Danika shakes her head at me, then goes back to looking at Twitter on her own cell. I don’t know why I’m filming Ever, but I know I want to watch this again later. Jesus, she’s extraordinary. And I can tell by the nervous way she keeps wringing her hands in a dishrag, she doesn’t know it.

“Okay,” Ever calls over. “These are ready to go up.”

Danika grabs a tray and heads confidently toward the staircase, same way she does everything. I start to pick up my own tray, but Ever stops me, laying a hand on my arm. “Wait.” She picks up a little bundle of meat and shaved vegetables, holding it against my mouth. “Eat?”

The way she makes it a question sends a flame burning up my esophagus. Memories of her cooking every time I walked in the door of her apartment flip through my mind. The way she used to leave it all out on the counter while we got busy. And I wonder if that was her secret way of offering me some of her creations. I never took her up on it. “Lay it on me,” I rasp.

I’ll go to the grave swearing it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Food-wise. Ever’s pussy beats it by a mile, but in terms of stuff I can chew, this meat and vegetable bundle is insane.

She rolls her shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to sneak about eight more on my way up the stairs.” She beams at me, and I wish I’d said a higher number than eight. “Damn, Ever. You’re great at this.”

“Yeah?”

No one’s told her. “Yes. Better than great.” I notice that chunk of hair I clipped up early has come loose again, so I reach up and fix it carefully, feeling her eyes on me the whole time. I don’t know what she’s seeing, but it’s probably confusion.

I thought being Ever’s friend was going to be difficult.

Now I’m starting to wonder what took me so long.