Chapter 4
Brooklyn
“S ure you’re okay?” Allison said, and I snorted, dropping into the seat by the window with my phone in hand, looking at it without seeing anything on the screen.
“I’m not the one who might not be okay right now,” I said. Allison rolled her eyes—getting the teenager act in while she still could, her twentieth birthday right around the corner—and she dropped onto the wicker seat across from me, a floating wood table fixed to the wall just under a thick cabana-style window looking out into the lush backyard vegetation behind the house.
“You obviously feel like this whole thing is your responsibility and you’re worried about her.”
I set my phone down with a sigh, turning the overhead lights off so it was just the moody glow of the lamp by the window, the last hazes of twilight outside casting the sky in deep purples. The house was a small one, made up for with a rooftop terrace that had an amazing view, with traditional wood construction, and for the most part, it was utilitarian—if I wasn’t at work, I was out doing something else, and I came here to eat and sleep.
Downside was that Allison was staying in the bungalow just down the street from here, which meant the girl always dropped in when I was home and she was bored. And then she always wanted me to make her food.
“I’ve got a big heart,” I said, dry irony hanging off the edges of my words. “Can’t help caring too much about everyone around me… I’m sure you can find it in your heart to forgive me for that.”
“Hm.”
“I just hope she’ll be all right,” I said, settling into a sincere tone again, dropping my gaze to where I drew little patterns on the table with my fingertip, the wood coarse against my finger. “Hard to look someone in the eye going through that kind of thing and not worry… she had a fully internalized meltdown while staying perfectly polite on the outside.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s just because you blame yourself.”
I put my hands up. “I’ve dealt with enough people to know who to be mad at. Shane’s the one who’s been cheating on her.”
She scrunched up her face, studying me for a long time, before she looked away. “If you say so.”
I smiled drily, leaning in towards her. “So… something you want to share with the class?”
She looked sharply back at me, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone cheated on you over the last year, or what’s the baggage about?”
“Oh my god, BB, I don’t have baggage.” She folded her arms, face scrunched up in the way that said she had baggage. I stood up.
“Well, if that’s true, then I guess we’re all good here. Let me guess, you want food?”
She pouted a little. “I’m famished.”
“Pizza?”
“You’re the best friend in the world.”
I laughed, heading into the galley-style kitchen and rooting in the fridge for the pizza dough I’d left to prep. “If you wanna say thank you, you could tell me what’s your baggage, so I know where to watch and not step on your toes while talking about Ryan…”
“You with the baggage again! I’d think you just collect people with baggage.” She paused. “Actually, I think that’s true. Who’s the last person you had around who didn’t have issues?”
“Welcome to adulthood, kid, we’ve all got issues.”
“And yours?”
I tossed the pizza dough on the counter, leaning over it to give her a dry look. “A heart too big. A zest for life that’s just too infectious for my own good. Abandonment issues. The standard. What do you want on your pizza?”
She still avoided the subject until we were outside, in the little patio I’d set up behind the house, tucked in under the shade of palm trees with smooth stones in a loose cobblestone floor and low brick walls with a brick oven built in, and it was dark minus the light of bug-repellant lanterns flickering around the edges of the patio and the glow of the fire, a couple of small pizzas cooking, and me and Allison sitting on the patio furniture with Moscow mule mugs filled up with ice-cold ginger beer, that she admitted, “I kind of did the same thing.”
I looked at her from the corner of my eye, at where she was cast in long shadows, stark contrast with the glow of the fire warm orange over one side of her face. “Cheated on someone?”
She scowled at me. “What do you take me for? No. I, uh.” She scratched the back of her head. “Someone cheated with me. I didn’t know she had a girlfriend.”
I set the drink down on the glass-top coffee table, resting my elbows on my knees. “It’s hard as hell to stop blaming yourself for it. Promise it’s not your fault, though. How long ago was it?”
“It’s been a minute… that was back in March.”
Three months wasn’t that long, but sure. “So, how’d it go? Girlfriend blew up at you?”
She cringed harder. “I wish I were as good as you are at this. Nope. She never found out. Far as I know, they’re still together.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m a terrible sack of shit.”
“We’re all terrible sacks of shit at one point or another. You only really do well for yourself in life if you recognize it and start to do something about it. It should be her responsibility to come clean, though,” I said, pushing up to my feet and lifting the pizza peel off the wall and sliding out the pizzas, a pair of them done perfectly. With pineapple on mine, because I was a monster. Allison had given me relentless shit over it until I’d gotten her to try it, and she didn’t start asking for it on hers, but she got real quiet on the subject after that.
“I know that,” Allison said, hunching her shoulders watching me as I laid out the pizzas on the table in front of us. “But she’s not going to. She clearly doesn’t feel guilty. She and her girlfriend are out there posting cute stories of the two of them on Insta and everything, always like, out for drinks with the love of my life, and whenever they make a post or anything, the comments are full of all their friends like, oh my god, you two are so cute, couple goals, bullshit like that.”
“How’d she manage to sneak past you that she had a girlfriend?”
Allison went bright red, silently picking up the pizza cutter and starting on her pizza. What had been a casual curiosity shot into the stratosphere, and I sat next to her.
“Allison, you’re terrible at hiding things. Did you actually know and you just don’t want to admit it?”
“No!”
“Then what was it?”
She mumbled something, cutting the pizza slower than I think I’d ever seen her do before.
“What? Girl, speak up. I’m elderly.”
“I met her… in a club.”
I paused. “You?”
“Look, can we change the subject? I’m sick of talking about them, and I want some pizza.”
“ You, picked up a girl for a one-night stand in a club?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said, fully blushing out to the tips of her ears now.
“Was it not? You met a girl in a club and had sex with her, and I assume there wasn’t a whole lot of the talking phase in between.”
“It was just—” She picked up a slice of pizza, and I had to catch her by the wrist.
“Girl, that was literally in the fire until two seconds ago. Do you want a quick trip to the burn ward?”
She set it down with a huff. “ I didn’t mean for it to be casual.”
“Oh…” I leaned back in the seat with the biggest smile spreading over my features, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.
“Shut up. ”
“Star-crossed lovers ended like star-crossed lovers do, huh?”
She scrunched up her face. “I believed a girl was all the things she said she was, so I guess shame on me.”
“I’m not blaming you, you’re blaming you. She’s the shitty one just like Shane is.”
She sighed, hard, hanging her head. “I kinda gaslit myself into not telling the girlfriend because I know she wouldn’t believe me anyway. They’re both way too hot for me. She wouldn’t believe her perfect girlfriend cheated on her, especially not with me.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Ryan, which is that cheaters aren’t doing it because their partners aren’t hot enough or not pretty enough but because they specifically want to sleep with someone who isn’t their partner. But honestly, from the situation, yeah, it sounds like she wouldn’t believe you.”
She gave me a look. “What, just from the little bit I told you? Is it because I’m not hot enough?”
“It’s because they seem to spend every second bragging about their relationship on social media… so I’m assuming she’s the type to conflate her self-worth with her relationship status. If you tell her that her girlfriend cheated on her, she’ll probably take it as an attack on her self-worth. Which sucks and is unfair.” I cupped my drink in both hands, clinking ice cubes together, looking down into them. “But it’s still worth saying so. Not for her sake, but for your own. Better to be haunted for a week regretting saying it than haunted forever regretting not saying it.”
She wrung her hands together, looking down at them in her lap, before she mumbled, “I guess… I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Yeah. You’re not wrong.”
“Sorry that happened. It sucks when it’s just a hookup and ten times worse when it’s something you were serious about.”
“Like you’d know?” she laughed, and I puffed out my chest.
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve tried dating seriously before.”
“Yeah, guess you’d have been serious back when you were in your only ever date to marry, as is holy and just, you filthy whores phase,” she laughed.
“Not even,” I said, giving her a playful nudge. “I was too fixated on trying to find the perfect husband—no chance I’d opened up enough to myself then to realize I was queer as hell—that I never let myself be with anyone. It’s not a happy mindset.”
She sighed. “You’re right… you always are, and it’s annoying.”
“Bartender’s wisdom.”
“I’ll work up the guts to tell her. And if she brushes me off and tries to give me shit over attacking her relationship, then I can at least say I tried.”
“That’s the spirit. If it goes badly and gets you down in the dumps, I’ll bring you food while you lose yourself in video games for a while.”
“Look, I’m not even gonna pretend I won’t take you up on that in a heartbeat. Thanks, BB. And thanks for the pizza, too. I owe you one.”
“Forget it. Don’t owe a thing.”
“Nah, I do. I’ll go rock-climbing with you next time and won’t even complain.” She paused. “Won’t complain too much, anyway.”
I laughed. “Okay, you win. Deal. We’ll take that and call it even.”
Allison and I made small talk the rest of the evening, finishing up our pizzas and then cooking off a second set of small pizzas before we headed back inside, clearing up our mess, and I walked with her back to her place before I headed back to my own, fully prepared to crash tonight before I found a text from an unknown number that had me pausing in the doorway to read it.
Hi Brooklyn, it’s Ryan Bell here, I hate to bother you, but if the offer for somewhere to get away from this all is still open, I’d really appreciate being able to take you up on it.
Guess that answered those questions. Honestly, it was nice to see someone who accepted help freely without being ungrateful or weird about it.
And I’d kind of lied to Allison pretending I was completely relaxed about this and just a little worried wondering how it was going—I hadn’t gotten Ryan out of my head all day, the intensity she’d had wrapped around her like a mantle when she walked off to see her boyfriend again.
I shot a text back. More than welcome to show up. There’s still pizza dough left over from dinner if you want a personal pizza. Shall I pick you up, or do you have your own transportation?
She replied quickly. The car rental Shane and I were using is under my name and I’m not letting his filthy hands touch it, so I’ll drive myself. Thanks, Brooklyn. What’s the address?
Couldn’t help but like the girl’s attitude. There was no right way to react to your boyfriend cheating on you, but her way was a strong contender.
I texted her the address, and I took a shot of instant espresso while waiting for her to show—I had a late shift tomorrow and didn’t need to be up early, and I wasn’t sure if Ryan was going to want to crash as soon as she got here or if she’d need me awake, so even though it tasted like licking out an exhaust pipe, I wrinkled my nose and knocked back the shot. Wasn’t too much longer before a sleek charcoal-black BMW SUV pulled up the street and parked by the brick half-wall around the end of the driveway, and I opened the front door to the house and leaned against the doorway, watching out past the wood boards and thatched roof of the front porch as the car door opened and Ryan stepped out, her features perfectly unreadable.
She’d said she was a journalist, and honestly, I felt like she fit the profile—she was sleek, put together, very chic and sharp, professional without being stuffy. Long hair in a rich chestnut brown in a neat, slick ponytail, a clean, classic style with a black blazer and high-waisted chinos, and slight contouring makeup that accented her oval-shaped face and drew attention to where her dark brown eyes seemed to smolder as a default state—attentive eyes. Sharp. The kind of person you assumed noticed everything in her surroundings.
Girl had joked about if I was hitting on her now too, trying to complete the set, and I wouldn’t in a million years try to hit on someone whose boyfriend had just tried to cheat with me. But it wasn’t like I wouldn’t be interested if it weren’t for that. She’d tried talking about how Shane had wanted to swap out his plain, boring girlfriend to sleep with someone hotter, which said she had a terrible read on herself.
“Hey,” I said, stepping out onto the welcome mat. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but I think I know.”
“I’m… fine,” she said, thumb and forefinger to her forehead, and she stepped up onto the porch with me, forcing a grateful smile my way. “Just really glad to have a place to get away from it all. I appreciate this a lot.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Well, I will,” she said. “I’m a very willful person. Above and beyond on service today, I see.”
I laughed, and I gestured her to the door. “The premium package for our favorite guest. Don’t tell the others I said that, though.”
“Our little secret. Should I take my shoes off?”
“Might as well keep them on for now. I’m about to take you out to the pizza oven.”
She stopped, giving me the closest thing to a real smile that I think she could manage right now. “You’re not talking about a—”
“Brick-fired pizza oven. Built by yours truly. I know,” I said, flicking a strand of hair back. “Only the best.”
“Any chance I can just stay here the whole week instead of the resort?” she said, a smile dancing on her lips as she leaned back against the doorframe.
“Ah, you could,” I said. “But Allison will come around harassing you for food. She’s here for the summer and is renting out the closest building you drove past on the way in, and she likes to help herself to my house. It’s give and take.”
“You call each other friends, but I’m starting to question that…”
“Best friends. The kind who can shit-talk each other without consequence. I always win the shit-talking competitions, for the record. Now, tell me what you want on your pizza, all right?”
She was a professional, keeping everything close to her chest, keeping her expression closed off, but just for a flash I saw the defenses go down—no doubt they’d already taken a hell of a beating today—and I caught a glimpse of an ocean of relief there in her eyes, just a second before she pulled it back together. “What do you have?”
“Pineapple.”
She laughed. “If you’re trying to start something, I’m not a picky eater. I love pineapple on pizza.”
I stepped inside with her, gesturing her towards the back door. “Then you’re going to be well taken care of here. C’mon. Let’s get you a proper pizza.”