I pull out my cell on the short walk over, but my steps falter at the on-screen notifications. Three missed calls. Two from my brother. But it’s the other one that fills my stomach with dread, a number I’ve been successfully avoiding for over six months. Each call has a corresponding voicemail. Putting off bad news, I click on my brother’s first.
“Rae! You are a godsend. Motherfucking fairy godmother. The stain came out and now I don’t have to explain to Logan what my coworker was doing in my sweater. Seriously, you saved my life and the cashmere. Okay, gotta run. Talk soon. Love you!”
Harmless enough, and I can’t help but smile at his antics. I don’t know how Logan puts up with my brother’s drama. Oh, wait. I do. They’re the perfect match. I sigh and offer up silent hope that someday I find a partner who loves and accepts me so completely.
I tap on the next voicemail. Another from my brother just an hour ago.
“Shit! I almost forgot to tell you. Guess who I ran into last night? Ethan. He looks bad, Rae. Really bad. Matches his personality. But he asked about you and I kinda laid it on a little thick. Said you were working your dream job and loving Los Angeles. Which isn’t entirely untrue, right? Anyway, you should have seen his face.” My brother laughs. “If I could have snapped a photo, I would have. Like he finally realized how stupid he was to let you get away. But I wanted to warn you, because well, I know how men like him operate. I think he might call, and if he does, do not waver! I know how you are with that man-child. I don’t understand it, but I accept he’s basically your kryptonite. Anyway, stay away. Don’t play with sharks. Or assholes with big dicks. The dick ain’t worth it! Okay, gotta run. Talk soon. Love you!”
The next message is from Mr. Big Dick Kryptonite himself. I should delete it. I should block his contact from my phone. I don’t know why I don’t. Or I do, but won’t acknowledge it. Even though leaving him was probably the best thing I ever did, he represents a future I thought I’d always have. Ethan was it for me. My forever guy. We shared a home. I wanted to have his babies. He talked about marriage, though he didn’t get a chance to propose. Together we planned adventures, shared interesting conversation, and yeah, the sex was amazing. Too bad I wasn’t the only one he was sleeping with.
A glutton for punishment, I press play on the waiting voicemail and hold the phone to my ear.
“Rae, baby. How are you? I ran into your brother and he says LA looks good on you. I am going to be in town for business next week. I’d love to hook up for dinner or something. Let’s try and connect while I’m there.” His smooth-as-honey voice conjures up all sorts of memories. Joy. Hurt.Love.He sighs. “I miss you. We were good together, yeah?”
I miss you.It shouldn’t get me, but it does. I blink back the urge to cry and delete the message before I’m tempted to replay it. Or worse, return his call. I cannot go there. Not again. I learned my lesson. I’m not going down that path again.
Sliding my phone into my bag, I walk the remaining steps to the coffee cart. The barista smiles with recognition. “Tall coffee, right?”
“Yep.” I glance to the basket of half-priced items, but today it’s empty.
Her face falls a little, noticing my gaze. “Oh. We just sold the last muffin. The only thing I’ve got left is a cake pop and tea loaf.” She gestures to the glass case, but those aren’t discounted and really, I can get by on what I have packed in my purse.
“Just the coffee. Thanks.” I peel and snack on my banana while I wait for my coffee to cool, then walk back to the set, trying to stay positive. Outlook and frame of mind are everything. They can make an obstacle feel like a speed bump or a mountain. So Ethan called? What? That doesn’t need to change anything about my day. I’m more disappointed there aren’t any muffins.
If anything, his call serves as a reminder that I can’t get tied up in a man again. Someone who’s willing to swoop in and save the day, make promises and earn my trust, only to screw me over when I’ve become dependent, needy, and half the woman I want to be. I’ve come a long way since leaving Chicago. I’m stronger. I know what I want from life, and I’m no longer willing to settle.
As I reach the set, my stomach rumbles with another wave of hunger, my coffee and fruit not nearly enough to keep me satisfied. I scrounge in my bag and produce a granola bar. It’s crushed and by the look of it, has been at the bottom of my bag for God knows how long, but it’ll do. I just have to get through a few more hours.
I wonder if Jude will want to have dinner again. As much as I enjoyed last night, I can’t accept if he does. I already feel an imbalance in our relationship. He’s wealthy and I’m not. He’s offered me so much: his assistance with my car, free rides, and dinner. I can’t lean on him. It would be too easy to fall into old habits.
12
Jude
“Fantastic. Thank you.” The VP on the line sings my praises and I can’t help but pump my fist at the small victory. “I really appreciate your commitment to the environment and local art.”
Last night at dinner with Rachel, the perfect solution for procuring bottle caps struck me when I noticed how many beers and specialty soft drinks the restaurant was tossing in the trash. The store manager was open to my idea of collecting them, and today’s call with corporate gains me even more support.
“Thank you for reaching out, Jude. This is a fantastic idea. We’re always open to ways we can support our communities.”
I thank him again, say good-bye, and hang up the phone feeling accomplished. Chance will have all the bottle caps—and more—he needs to finish his sculpture on time.
The bigger challenge will be collecting the volume of plastic he requires. Especially with his insistence they be collected authentically. I ditch my home office, grabbing my wet suit and board to spend a few hours in the surf. I get my best ideas out in the ocean. Away from the hustle. Away from the day-to-day grind. The cold water revitalizes my mind. The exercise is good for my body as much as my soul. Out here, I can’t think about the next project or looming deadlines. It’s just me, a man and surfboard, against the ocean’s ruthless power.
Sometimes the waves are easy, my path smooth and practiced. Other times it’s a constant battle, the riptide threatening to pull me under. I’m a sick bastard, because I prefer the days when I have to work to stay afloat. When there’s a chance I might not make it out alive. I don’t know what that says about me or my mental status, but I don’t ponder it more than a few minutes. I can’t because all my attention is focused on not drowning, and attempting to catch the next killer wave.
Today, I’m distracted, though. Frustrated, and it’s all thanks to a certain woman. Rachel is as tenacious and unpredictable as today’s surf. Maybe that’s why I’m so enamored. Why I can’t stay away no matter how many times she knocks my ego down. I’m sure a shrink would have something to say about it, but I’ll stick to my surf time therapy.
When my muscles strain to the point I’m hardly able to push myself to my feet and the sun begins to set, I call it a day. I notice a few water bottle tops on my walk from the shoreline to the parking lot, and toss them into the center console of my Escalade. Three down, a few hundred to go.Great.I grab a quick shower back at my condo before changing back into my suit, then race to the studio to pick up Rachel.
I shouldn’t be so excited, I’m only giving her a ride, but the promise of seeing her again is the highlight of my day. I’d like to do a whole lot more than give her a ride home. I’d prefer if she let me take her back to my place.Like she’d agree. One step at a time. I hardly know the woman. I need to gain her trust first. The mind-blowing sex will come later. Call me cocky or plain self-assured, but I’m counting on it.
Me: Here when you are ready
Rachel: Wrapping up now. I’ll just be a few minutes.
Me: Take your time.
