The following afternoon, my sister pounded on the door like the damned police. It was clear when Reid opened it a few minutes later she had interrupted something. I held my breath as she walked past us toward the kitchen. “I need one of you to cover my shift. No one else will do it, and, well, can one of you go in?”
“I’ll go. Reid has a show,” I offered as she looked around the apartment and then took a step back on a gasp. Incredulous eyes looked over at Reid as she gawked at him. “She took all the furniture, everything?” Reid stood stone-jawed as Paige walked around the apartment. “What in the hell, Reid? This is how you’ve been living since she left?” Her tears were instant as she looked over at me. “This is how you’ve been living with him?”
“Stop acting like you care. We’re fine,” I said with my arms crossed. “You’re covered. I’ll get dressed right now.”
“I’ll drive you,” she said. I looked at Reid, whose defeated posture relayed he was just dying to get out of the situation.
“Fine.” I pulled a clean black shirt out of my duffle and changed in front of them both. Paige winced and stared us down, a scowl on her face when she cornered Reid. “Why did you let her leave you like this?”
I turned on my sonic ears as I raced to the bathroom to get a hair tie. I was dying for the same answers.
“Paige,” he said, “drop it.”
“Hell no, you aren’t this big of a pushover. She took everything! This place was fully furnished. A mattress on the floor, Reid?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that?” Paige was pushing harder than I ever had.
“Hey!” I said, carefully breaking up the impending fight. “Can we go?” I walked over to Reid and mouthed “sorry” and told him I would meet him at his show before walking out the door. I paced at the foot of the stairs for ten minutes and was about to go back up when Paige walked down.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go.”
We got in the car, and I was thankful when she turned the key and the radio struck up “Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana. I didn’t want to talk to her, though I was itching to find out what conversation she just had with Reid. Even more curious to see if she’d made him more resentful of our situation.
For once, I kept quiet. I wasn’t in the mood to defend myself.
“He didn’t live like that,” she said after a few minutes. “Their place was nice. It was nothing like it is now.”
I didn’t know who she was reassuring, herself or me. “I don’t know why he would let her do that, even if—”
Then she had my attention. “Even if what?”
“Nothing. It just doesn’t make sense. He’s a smart guy. He’s not a sucker.”
“Guilt. Maybe he was guilted,” I said as I looked over at her pointedly and insinuated she was doing the same to us. “But, Paige, the accident wasn’t his fault.”
We pulled up to the restaurant.
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” I said, grabbing my apron from her dash.
“He was the one driving,” she pointed out on her high horse.
“And she was the one who caused it,” I said in monotone. I didn’t have it in me to keep defending him to her. As much as she claimed to care about him, she never really gave him the benefit of the doubt. I had no doubt Reid wasn’t a sucker. I just think he’d been sucker punched one too many times to care about defending himself.
“I know you think I’m just some raging bitch—”
Angry tears surfaced and I jerked myself together. “I’ll never forgive you,” I whispered as I turned to stare at her. “Ever. No matter what happens between Reid and me. And it’s not because I’m sleeping on a mattress on the floor. I’d rather be there with him than doing your dishes and sleeping on your couch. You threw me on my ass and turned your back on me because I didn’t do what you told me to. I’m not your kid. You don’t get to make decisions for me. I’m your sister. And Reid might be your friend, but that’s all he is: your friend.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You just blew in like the tornado you are and screwed everything up. You aren’t an innocent victim. You’re drama and you know it. It’s my job to look after you but, hey, you want freedom, you’re on your own now.”
“Don’t I know it!” I yelled as I got out of the car and she moved to stand on the other side of the hood. “I didn’t do it to hurt you, Paige.”
“But look at us now, none of us talking. Nothing’s the same.”
“And that’s because of you!” I said as I slammed her car door. “I get that you didn’t want us together, and I see that you were looking out for me, but now you’re just damning us!”
“It’s a mistake, Stella.”
“Then it’s my mistake to make!”
She just shook her head and got back in the car. I stood stunned as she lost her cool and tore out of the parking lot.
It was going to be a long summer.
After my shift, I begged Leslie to use her office computer. Reid didn’t have internet, and that was a big problem. With all the upheaval, I hadn’t taken the time to find an internet café. My mouth dropped when I saw I had missed a few emails from Nate. My smile was instant. The first one was dated the day I had drenched his crotch with salsa.
Nate Butler
Subject: Decisions
2:32 AM
Salutations post countless beers,
I find it amusing that you work at a place called The Plate Bar. Did those idiot owners even research the name? I’m sitting on a patio at my best friend’s place, staring at the city lights, and I’m wondering where you are. I swore I wouldn’t bother you after beer one, and then decided on a formal email after beer three. But I still can’t afford you. It’s sad, really. So, the countdown begins, Miss Emerson. And though it’s just a few short months away, I find myself wanting to make one last effort to persuade you to go out with me (for research purposes of course). I have two tickets for the Ritz this Saturday.
GET. IN. MY. TAHOE.
Nate Butler
Editor in Chief, Austin Speak
Sent via Blackberry
I threw my head back and then looked up the concert I’d already missed.
“DAMNIT TO HELL!” It was Sheryl Crow.
Nate Butler
Subject: Courtesy
5:01 PM
It is my understanding that a drunken man extended a concert invitation to you last night. And while I do not condone that sort of behavior, especially from a future employer to employee, I find it extremely rude that said invitation has not been acknowledged. Teamwork is key here at Austin Speak, Miss Emerson. I can only assume you take your position seriously and are against the feminist lyrics of Sheryl Crow. My apologies. Moving forward, I will refrain from extracurricular emails, but will settle for a second interview, in my office, by 6:00 p.m. today.
Nate Butler
Editor in Chief, Austin Speak
Sent via Blackberry
My laughter continued as I realized I’d missed not only the concert but also my second interview at Austin Speak. I had to hand it to him, he was determined. The last email came yesterday.
Nate Butler
Subject: Oversight
11:11 AM
It occurred to me that you may not be receiving these emails, but I think we both know, Miss Emerson, that is not the case. And since I have no proof of this, I have no choice but to believe that you remain steadfast in your decision to not mix business with research, however disconcerting that may be due to the nature of our profession. But for the sake of office morale, I may be so inclined to have a beer at our place at around 6:00 p.m. this evening to discuss this issue.
Nate Butler
Editor in Chief, Austin Speak
Sent via Blackberry
I smiled as I pulled up my email to compose a reply.
Stella Emerson
Subject: Deadlines
9:42 PM
Dear Mr. Butler,
I am flattered by your correspondence and excited about the chance of working with you. Due to my current situation, I am unable to receive emails in a timely manner because of connection issues. I will be remedying this situation within the coming weeks. While all invitations are appreciated, I prefer to do my research alone. I am happy to report that things are rapidly progressing with my articles and they will be delivered to you in two months’ time.
Best Wishes,
Stella Emerson
Future Entertainment Columnist, Austin Speak
Sent via The Plate Bar
Minutes later, I was counting my tips and paused when I saw his idling Tahoe through the front door. I pressed my lips together to hide my smile as the heavily tinted driver’s side window rolled down.
“Best wishes, Miss Emerson?” Nate asked with a smirk.
“It’s professional, Mr. Butler,” I said, approaching him. The subtle hint of expensive and mouth-watering cologne drifted out of the SUV as I looked him over. His hair was mussed, and his tie was pulled loosely to rest on his chest. Sexy as sin, his blue eyes scoured me with intent. I was momentarily dazzled until I remembered I had a hit waiting on me.
“Nate,” I said with a sigh. “I can’t do this right now. I’m late.”
“Do what?” he said with a slow-building grin.
“Anything. I have somewhere to be.”
“Get in,” he ordered. “I’ll drive you.”
I bit my lip and stared at him.
“Stella, I’m harmless.”
“I’m good.”
“Get in. We can’t have you wandering the streets in that skirt.” I had changed into my black halter-top, hot-pink leather miniskirt, and black high-top Converse with Beastie Boy’s “Sure Shot” lyrics scribbled on the sides.
“Just a ride.” I jumped into his passenger seat and buckled my belt, the air from his AC blowing the heat back to hell. “Ahhh, God, it’s been a bitch of a summer. Thank you for the ride.”
“Where to?”
“Red Eye Fly. You know it?”
“Sure. Show?”
“Yeah.” I looked his way with guilty eyes, withholding an invitation for him to join me. He didn’t hesitate as he drove out of the parking lot.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get your emails. I’m in between places.”
“Would it have made a difference?” he asked, knowing the answer. I couldn’t resist the urge to look at him. He was the opposite of Reid, not nearly as jaded, a playful light in his eyes, and full of easy conversation, which he initiated.
“How are you liking Austin?”
“Ha,” I said, throwing my head back. “At the moment, that’s a loaded question.”
He leaned over to adjust the AC, and my body tensed. His chest rose and fell in a silent chuckle. He was satisfied with his effect on me.
“Little bit jumpy tonight, aren’t we, Stella?”
“I’m late,” I said coolly.
“Well, then let’s not keep him waiting,” Nate murmured.
“It’s a band I’m writing an article about,” I said defensively. “And they are incredible.”
“Looking forward to reading it,” Nate said, slightly withdrawn, as if his suspicions were confirmed. I was equal parts relieved and disappointed that he knew where I stood. And at the same time, I couldn’t stop looking at him. His sleek jaw, the wave in his hair, the light sprinkle of hair on the back of his hands. He was gorgeous in the way that made me uncomfortable. It was as if he was too much man.
“Stella?”
We were parked outside the club. “Oh,” I said, unbuckling my belt as I glanced over at the multicolored stone building. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime,” Nate said. “And I mean that. I’m just a few blocks away, okay?”
“Okay, thanks,” I said as I opened the door and looked back at him with a smile. “See you in two months, boss.”
I didn’t look back, though I was tempted, and heard him pull away. I was just about to enter the club when I saw a cloud of smoke to my right. Maybe it was instinct, but I knew he was there, and the sight of his black boots beneath the oak tree that hovered over the club confirmed it. I looked up to see his watchful eyes on me. Ben was next to him with a group of guys I didn’t recognize. They were all smoking in a circle, talking music as Reid’s eyes stayed trained on me as I approached.
Ben saw me and gave a low whistle. “Hey, beauty, settle this debate for us.”
“She can’t tell you anything, man,” a punk with peroxide-lightened hair said as he looked me over.
“And sexism lives on,” I muttered as I gave Reid a shy smile, but he didn’t return it. Shit.
“What’s the debate?”
Ben started rattling on about the difference between rock genres and The Dead Kennedys.
“Afro-punk,” I offered easily, feeling myself wither as Reid crushed his butt.
“Told you,” Ben said.
“No way, man. There’s no such thing,” the guy insisted.
“You should watch Spooner’s documentary. They’re coming up with subgenres every day for rock because it’s starting to vary in degrees. Suicidal Tendencies is afro punk, too.”
“And who the hell are you?” the guy asked.
“She’s little sister,” Reid said with bite as he walked past me.
“Hey,” I said carefully and grabbed his hand. He dodged my grasp and pulled out his keys. “Take the truck home.”
I pressed my brows together, my chest heavy. “What?”
“Or stay, whatever,” he said, turning his back to me.
“He just gave me a ride,” I piped as I showed my ID to the doorman, who barely glanced at it before he circled my wrist with a paper bracelet.
“It’s good you’re making friends,” Reid said, his voice cool, indifferent.
“Yeah,” I said, unwilling to entertain his shit another second. “Have a good show.”
“Thanks.”
We separated at the bar. I sat on my stool and watched the whole show, my grudge against him disappearing song by song. He lost his shirt, tucking it in his back pocket on the second set. Seduced by the sweat dripping from his hair, the movement of his body, I watched, my reaction the same, the warmth spreading as I kept my eyes glued while a group of girls screamed at the foot of the stage. The club was sweltering and packed beyond its limit. Ben shrieked out the lyrics to one of their originals, “Even”. It was a song about a little boy who was left alone in a dark house, screaming for his mother. It was dark, and it reeked of Reid. I shuddered at the thought of that happening to him. That night there was something different in the way he played, and it radiated off him. He didn’t look up, not once. Not even when Ben tried to engage him. He felt so far away as the fans screamed for them. After the show, Reid made a beeline for me, and we drove home in silence before he retreated to his balcony.
I slept alone.