~ 2 ~
Only Amy was at home when I got to the house. Julie would be at work at the restaurant, and Ice had evening lab practicals this semester. Ice—short for Anaisa—is in her second year of medical school. Charley…who could keep track of her? She could be at rehearsal, performance, audition—or out with wonderful Daniel. She spent more nights at his place than in her own room these days. I didn’t blame her, what with his amazing condo.
Well, and amazing him.
She flat refused to move any of her stuff there, though, and stubbornly insisted on continuing to do her assigned chores and paying her share of the rent at our house. That part I so didn’t understand. Daniel almost certainly wanted her to move in. I bet he’d give her a great big diamond ring, too. It was the culmination of the dream, wasn’t it? Whenever I saw him at work, I wanted to ask about it, but I wasn’t supposed to stick my nose in anymore.
It nearly killed me, biting my tongue so hard, but I really was trying to learn from past mistakes.
“Heya,” Amy called out, not looking up from her project. She’d put in the extra leaves on the old dining-room table Julie had found at some estate sale, and had it covered with paper patterns and sketches. She’d move a pattern piece, mutter at it, then add something to her drawing. Her hair was still up in an elegant French twist from her work day, but she’d changed out of whatever stylish outfit she’d had on and into yoga pants, big fluffy socks, and a baggy sweatshirt. It had a hole in one worn shoulder, which made me think of Gabriel with a pang.
If nothing else, Charley had sure pinpointed my weaknesses in grooming Gabriel for me. I supposed actresses got good at getting insight into people’s character. Without those holes in his jeans—real ones from wear, not artfully distressed—he’d have been too perfectly polished. Like that little chip in his tooth somehow made the prospect of kissing him, of touching my tongue to that slight, ragged edge, all that much more enticing. Gah. I was not going to think about it anymore.
“Is that for fun or work?” I asked, distracting myself by peering at Amy’s drawing of some glam gown, careful not to touch anything.
“Mmph,” she grunted, then took the mechanical pencil out of her mouth and tucked it behind her ear. “Work. Work work work. Why do we do it, Marcia? Why?”
“Umm…” Amy was usually the perky one. All those exercise endorphins. “Well, food and shelter are nice.”
“Right?” She scowled at a paper piece, snatched up a pair of scissors—not the uber-sharp, super fancy shears for fabric that she treated like a Harry Potter magic wand, kept in a special box with a note that anyone who touched them would suffer a dire fate—and snipped off a corner. It made no discernible difference to me, but she nodded in satisfaction and straightened, leaning her hip against the table. “How was your day, dear?”
“Fine.” I set down my shoulder bag, and shrugged out of my coat. “Nothing unusual.”
“They have the Christmas decorations up on the Loop—did you see?”
“Yes, and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.” I hung up my coat on the old-fashioned rack. Another of Julie’s finds. We were lucky to have the tiny bedroom closets in the narrow craftsman house. A front closet wasn’t something people thought about back then.
“Next week, though.”
“Already?” My mom had been surprisingly quiet about it then. Usually by now she’d be bugging me about getting there on Tuesday, so we’d have time to cook on Wednesday. She couldn’t make more than frozen waffles for dinner when I was a kid, but now she had to make the full-out spread, for two people. She missed me, though, so I tried to make up for that.
My mom had kind of expected I’d move back home after college—just the two of us girls!—and had been disappointed when I’d decided to move in with Charley and Ice and the other gals.
It had been a huge decision for me, even though the choice itself was easy. Move in with the cool girls, be one of the Fabulous Five and live in the big city, or go back home to Spring Creek, live with my mother, and work at the grocery store or something. Not like there were jobs for a chemist there.
Still, I’d agonized about letting my mom down. Then I’d gotten the position in the perfume division at Holt Industries and that had sealed the deal. Though entry level, the job should be the ladder to my dream of being a “nose,” and developing perfumes of my own. The most romantic job ever. My perfumes would make people fall in love, and remember their loves.
The least I could do was go spend a few extra days with my mom. I’d have to see about getting Wednesday off work. Everyone got Thursday and Friday, but I’d have to use a personal leave day for Wednesday, which I’d much rather use at Christmas.
“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed Julie’s strategy pile for our orphan Thanksgiving dinner,” Amy was saying. “I’ve been getting notifications from her Pinterest page about every thirty seconds. Haven’t you?”
“I turned off the notifications for exactly that reason.”
“Well, she’s all psyched because Daniel says we can have the dinner at his place, which means she gets to use his fancy-dancy kitchen. She’s been chanting about dual ovens and something about a stovetop with six stations. She’s practically orgasmic about it.”
“Daniel’s not an orphan. All his family is here.” I shouldn’t sound so resentful. Really, “orphan” was a misnomer, as none of us were. We all had family somewhere, just not in Chicago. In fact, of our household of five, I was the closest to being a real orphan. I once read that, technically, if either of your parents is dead, you’re considered an orphan. For all I knew, my father was dead. The thought made me inexplicably sad. You can’t mourn someone you never knew. Still, anytime they called it the “orphan dinner,” it annoyed me.
“Yeah, I guess his family traditionally goes to the Grand Caymans for the holiday. But Charley has the show, so he’s staying in town with her.” Amy waggled her eyebrows. “Very romantic.”
It was romantic. Daniel was an amazing guy. Perfect, really. And Charley couldn’t even be bothered to thank me for hooking her up with him. No, all she could think about was her petty revenge. And it wasn’t fair to mess with a person’s heart that way. If only Gabriel had been the real thing…
Then he wouldn’t have hit on you in the first place, Marcia. Jesus, think!
Amy gave me funny look. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I snapped it out, sounding so grumpy that it made me an immediate liar. But I wasn’t going to tell her about Gabriel.
“Anyway, because it’s at Daniel’s instead of here, we’ll have that great big dining table of his—I’m making a runner and napkins for it, maybe those cute little individual vases at each place-setting—so we’re all bringing dates. Julie’s going to ask that guy from the restaurant and I’ll bring Brad, of course.”
Of course, since Amy had been dating Brad for a couple of months. I wasn’t going to comment. Holding my tongue, not sticking my nose in. “Who’s Ice bringing?”
Amy snorted. “Who knows? Yesterday she listed about five different potentials. She still scores way too generously.”
“You were all talking about this yesterday?”
“Yeah. I was just home from work, Ice and Julie were grabbing snacks before heading out and Charley breezed in with the news. You weren’t back yet. And something is wrong.”
“Just, nobody told me about the dinner at Daniel’s.” Or the chummy conversation I’d missed out on. First my mom hadn’t said anything about Thanksgiving, then my friends hadn’t. Maybe no one wanted me around.
Amy frowned and went to put the tea kettle on. “It’s not like we were leaving you out. Charley only just agreed to Daniel’s plan yesterday—she was being her typically stubborn self about it, apparently—and, besides, you always go to your mom’s for the holiday. Aren’t you going this year? Cuz if you aren’t, of course you’re with us! It’s not like Daniel doesn’t have tons of room.”
“I’m going to my mom’s.” Amy had a perfect point and I was being stupidly insecure. I wouldn’t have a date to bring anyway. “At least, I think so. She hasn’t said.”
The door slammed open with a blast of cold air and a swirl of snowflakes. Charley burst in with all the radiant energy of a summer day.
Even in her enormous puffy parka, no makeup, her shining red hair ruthlessly slicked back into a top knot and wearing furry ear muffs, Charley was gorgeous. A real piece of work, my mom had said of her the first time they met when Mom came to pick me up at the end of freshman year. She hadn’t liked Charley much. Well, she didn’t like any of them, but she really didn’t like Charley. That girl screams slut. Actresses, she’d added, rolling her eyes. You should make friends with a nicer class of girl. Isn’t there a Newman Center at Northwestern?
There had been, but I didn’t go there much. My mom didn’t understand how lucky I was to fall in with this group of friends. First I’d gotten Julie as my roommate in the lottery, and we’d become besties almost immediately. A relief to me as I’d been worried I wouldn’t make any friends in college.
Then Julie met Amy in freshman comp, and Ice and I were in general chemistry lab together. Charley was Ice’s roommate, so pretty soon we were all hanging out together, either in Ice and Charley’s room or mine and Julie’s. Amy had pulled one of the drama-lama roomies, so she crashed with us a lot. And there I was, having somehow snuck in under the radar, hanging with the cool girls.
The last two years of school we shared an apartment off campus. When Amy’s aunt, who was some sort of real-estate mogul, offered to rent us this house while Amy got established in fashion design and Ice went to med school at U of Chicago—well, it all fell into place. Julie took culinary arts classes and worked at several restaurants, first waiting tables, then as a sous-chef. Though she called herself “sous-sous-sous.”
And Charley decided not to go to New York or L.A., but to build her chops in Chicago live theater. Really she just wanted to be a superstar, but there’s not a clear career ladder for that. She has this idea that if she does stage long enough, she’ll be discovered and, I don’t know, suddenly become Taylor Swift. Charley is not a logical person.
“Hi, hi, hi!” she called out. “It is fucking freezing out there. I should have taken Daniel up on that trip to the Caribbean. What was I thinking?” She pulled off the ear muffs and coat, tossing both on the couch. Underneath she wore leggings and a cropped t-shirt over a sports bra. A little jewel winked in her belly button, calling attention to her flat stomach.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What were you thinking?”
“About my intense dedication to my career, apparently.” She rolled her gorgeous eyes, her natural flair and charisma making the expression charming where on my mom it just made her look tired and mean. “And what bug crawled up your butt?”
“Bad day at work,” Amy called from the kitchen. “She’s been cranky since she walked in ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, I have not.” I dug my tablet out of my bag and swiped it on, for something to do. Bad idea as that same Missed Connections ad popped up, reminding me immediately of Gabriel. The guy who said his name was Gabriel. “But, since you ask.” I squared off to Charley, confronting her. Better to have this done with. “I met Gabriel on the train home from work.”
“Who?” She was unwinding the yards-long muffler from her neck. I wanted to point out that if she wore more clothes, she’d both be warmer and wouldn’t have to wear so much outer gear. Amy came in from the kitchen and handed me a mug of one of her special tea blends, this one full of soothing cinnamon, clove, and pepper notes.
“Thank you. I don’t know what his real name is. Blond. Beautiful. Blue eyes. An actor.”
Charley toed off her furry Uggs and began working her top knot loose, giving me an amused grin. “I hate to tell you this, honey, but you just described eighty percent of the male actors out there. Was he straight? That’ll whittle it down to ten percent. Maybe five.”
“Oh, just stop it!” I set down the mug of tea, so I wouldn’t be tempted to hurl it at Charley’s head. And I am so not a violent person. “Your revenge puppet. You hired him to hit on me.”
“Ah, no.” She shook out her hair, a long crimson flame of it, combing her fingers through. “I didn’t hire anyone.”
“Okay.” I oozed righteous sarcasm. “The guy you coaxed, bribed, or cajoled—I don’t know what.”
“A lot of good synonyms there,” Amy observed, cupping her own mug in both hands. “You want tea, Charley?”
“No, thanks. I have ten minutes to shower and get out the door again.” She headed toward the stairs.
“Well, it didn’t work!” I said. Okay, I yelled it. Really loud. Charley pivoted—total dancer’s grace—and both she and Amy stared at me with shocked expressions.
“Are you having a diva meltdown?” Charley asked, with a kind of infuriating delight.
“Maybe just leave her alone right now, Charles.” Amy picked up my mug and handed it to me again. “Drink your tea, honey, and sit. You can tell me about your bad day.”
“No.” Charley edged closer. “I want to see this. High and mighty Marcia is having a snit over a guy? A beautiful, blond, actor boy named Gabriel. Tell us more.”
“Don’t you have to hurry into the shower?” I regretted challenging her with it now. I should have waited until I had a cool head. Or just not said anything at all and let her wonder. That would have been the ideal way to deprive her of her revenge. Now I was just giving her exactly what she wanted, not setting her back at all. I’ve never been able to stand up to her. She’s just so all-around fabulous, where I’m simply… not.
“I can get in and out in five,” she said. “And I can be late. I’m just meeting Daniel.”
Just meeting Daniel. Ooh, tra-la, tra-lay. I’m only going to see my handsome, charming, wealthy boyfriend who happens to be utterly in love with me. No big deal. He’ll wait for me. Which he would.
“So,” Charley prodded, “what happened? Cutie guy hit on you? Spill!”
“You know what happened,” I ground out.
“Well, I don’t!” Amy said brightly. “Tell us the story!”
“There is no story.” They both stared at me expectantly. They’d never drop the subject until I caved. “You guys kill me. Fine. This guy—who says his name is Gabriel—sat next to me on the train. And he sees that I’m looking at this one Missed Connections ad—”
“Ooh,” Amy interrupted, “the ‘as you wish’ one? So romantic!”
“Reads like a stalker to me.” Charley tossed her hair over her shoulder, dismissing it entirely.
It was enough to stop me in surprise though. “You read it? I thought you never looked at the Missed Connections.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You guys got me addicted.”
“It was totally romantic,” Amy insisted. “Any guy who quotes The Princess Bride and promises to grovel is a keeper, not a stalker.”
“Are you kidding?” Charley snorted inelegantly.
“You’re so cynical.” Amy shook her head.
“Look, if he’d been that into her, he shouldn’t have fucked up in the first place.”
“People make mistakes, Charley,” I said, pointedly.
“Oh, right.” She leveled an intent look on me. “Like I did, blowing off Daniel the first time—is that what you’re saying? Fine, I’m big girl. I admitted it. I apologized. I even did an grovel of my own.”
“You didn’t grovel all that much,” I muttered and she narrowed her eyes.
“I knew you were listening at the door.”
Oops. So, sue me. “I was invested.”
“Just a little.” She gave me a super-sweet smile, then dropped it. “Finish the story.”
“Daniel is waiting for you.”
She whipped her phone out of her bra—I guess she keeps it in there since she obviously has no pockets—and texted, saying it out loud as she did. “‘Will be thirty minutes late. Do you love me anyway?’ Now, tell me—” Her phone dinged and she glanced at it, her eyes going soft and a goofy smile crossing her lips.
“What did he say?” Amy demanded, but Charley tucked the phone away again with a secretive shrug.
“He loves me. The man is nuts. Finish the story, Marcia, or I’ll sit on you. Prince Charming plops himself next to you, sees that you’re romanticizing the stalkery post and…”
“And nothing! I figured out—pretty much right away, for your information—that he was an actor, so I knew you put him up to it. What was the plan? He’d walk me from my L stop, and, oh, then we’d stop at some cute little bar and—”
“No, that pastry shop you love,” Amy inserted.
“Oh yeah.” Charley nodded. “Marcia would fall for the guy who says ‘let’s stop at The Last Crumb, have a cupcake and an espresso and talk.’”
“I am not that fat, you guys!”
“No one said you were,” Amy replied after a moment. “You really are in a snit. How many points?”
“What?” I felt stupid. This would have gone better if I’d planned it out.
“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” Charley quoted on a long-suffering sigh, folding her arms and shaking her head. “The points, darling. How many?”
“Three,” I muttered. “Maybe four.”
“Across all five categories?” She pinned me with a knowing stare.
“No.” Amy nodded to herself. “She never scores on Rhythm. That’s four points on four criteria. A five-pointer for the rest of us, I’ll bet. Major score, Marcia.”
“Well, yes.” I threw up my hands. “Because she groomed him. He even smelled perfect. So, okay, Charley—you totally win. He hit on me. He was awesome. I fell for him at first sight. Can we just skip the part where he kicks me to the curb and breaks my heart by telling me it was all a joke?”
“Wait.” Charley held up a hand, pointed crimson nails gleaming. “You seriously think I got some friend of mine to seduce you and then break your heart so I could have my revenge?”
“Of course. It’s so you.”
Charley actually flinched, as if I’d slapped her.
Amy gave me a strange look. “Um, maybe we—” she started, but Charley stopped her.
“You know, Marcia, I’m aware that you and I are not besties. I tease you about the virginity thing more than I should. And, yes, I was pissed about you interfering in my life, and I said some things about vengeance. I know I’m a dramatic person, and self-involved, so I don’t always think things through like I should. And I might not have as much in common with you as Julie or Amy—or even Ice—do. But I still thought we were actual friends. I can’t believe you think I’d set you up to have your heart broken—” Her fluid singer’s voice cracked and she looked at her bare, pedicured toes, then at me again, her eyes full of tears. “I wouldn’t be that cruel. I just… wouldn’t even do that to someone I hated. Certainly not to a friend.”
I didn’t know what to say. Even Amy looked disapproving. I had no idea how I ended up being the bad guy in this situation. “I was just sure that you…I mean, I figured…”
“Well, you were wrong,” she snapped, wiping her eyes and regaining her usual fire. “And now I’m going to take that shower.” She turned to climb the stairs.
Amy gave me a shrug, both helpless and accusing.
“Charley…” I said, trailing off because I couldn’t think of what else to add. She stopped with a hand on the rail and waited. When I didn’t say more, she sighed.
“Marcia, I’m fully aware of the irony of me saying this, but the world doesn’t center on you and your angst. Get a grip.”