Chapter 14
Theo O'Keefe
Logically, it’s not King’s fault John lied to me. But I still feel betrayed, as if he’s the one who tricked me. And now he’s trying to be nice. It’s a complete mindfuck.
I leave the practice facility happy that Sarah brought my car. The heat and familiar worn-in driver’s seat reassure me that not everything changes for the worse.
Me: You’re the best
Sarah: I know
Sarah: Shit
Sarah: Am I supposed to argue?
My laugh relieves some of the tension in my shoulders.
Me: Only if you want to
Sarah: No you are *kiss emoji*
Me: *face palm emoji*
Me: Driving
I’m about to set my phone in the holder when I notice a message.
From my mom.
Finally.
I listen. “Hi sweetie. What are all the dramatics about? I told you I’d be taking time for a spa treatment after redecorating Park Ave. Well, it can’t be that important since you didn’t answer. Kisses.”
I punch the start button and peel out of the parking lot.
It’s impossible for my own mother to be nice to me.
Most people go for spa days, or even a week.
No one ever disappears with no contact for over a month and claims they’ve been at a spa.
I listen to the message again, and I’m sure she feels like I yelled at her. It’s so her.
The drive to the city flies by; I definitely broke the speed limit.
I sit in my car in the parking garage, persuading myself that John must have gone home by now.
My mom is alive and being classically her. My insides are still frozen, like I’m in danger and can’t see it. A knock on my window scares the shit out of me.
“Sorry, sir. There’s a Mr. King,” the parking lot attendant says scornfully, “and a Mr. Brant trying to get in the garage without a permit and claiming to know you.”
“I know them.” I exit my car. “They’re not staying, but I’ll talk to them.” They must’ve followed me. Lately, I have no sense of self-preservation.
“What’s up?” I ask King, who stands by the underground garage entrance while Brant waits in the car.
“Am I gonna get shot for trying to get in here? Are we at a private club or something?” His head is on a swivel. The man took me to the projects, and this makes him nervous.
“You know where we are.” I cross my arms and ignore his senseless jab. The parking lot attendant must be new not to recognize him.
“Whatever. Listen, I’m serious about wanting to help with your mom if she’s not okay.” His aqua eyes ooze sympathy, and he sounds genuine.
“She’s fine.” I wave my hand dismissively. “Out of cell tower range at a spa.”
He sinks into himself, and relief is written all over his face. “Okay, cool. See ya soon.”
“You followed me to ask me that?” I call after him.
“Theo, you lost your shit. I can’t claim to know you, but you were sick over her.” He faces me but takes a couple of steps toward the car.
The way he says my name, my first name, causes a reaction in me that I can’t place. The fog of anger clouds my judgment.
“I’m surprised Brant went along with following me, considering how into you he is.” My statement rings petulant in my ears.
King releases an exaggerated huff. “Definitely not.”
“Definitely.” I raise my chin.
“It’s not your business, but he’s into someone he can’t have.”
“You.” I throw my hands up like it’s obvious. “Unless you give me a name, you won’t convince me.”
He pauses. I can tell he’s torn and decide to wait him out.
“I don’t have a name and won’t tell stories that aren’t mine.” He scratches under his chin.
“But you know.” By the way his eyes widen, I know I’m right.
“He’s never told me.” He shifts uncomfortably.
I try to catch him off guard in another lie. “Hey, what are your Christmas holiday traditions?”
“Ummm, hockey has made the holidays hard, but we have a few days off I spend with my parents.”
“Here?” I close the distance between us.
Jamal’s head swivels again, and he looks me up and down. “No. Why would my moms and dad come to some club? I go to their house.”
“Don’t you have a tradition with John?” I catch his elbow so he can’t turn away.
“I haven’t spoken to him since his wedding.” He says the last part with an accusatory edge. “Do you need a place to go this year? I’m sure—”
“Don’t bother. I’m good.” It takes effort not to run to the elevator. Luckily, the parking attendant holds it for me, so I jump in, and the doors slide closed.
Jamal isn’t lying. I haven’t met anyone who thinks he’s shady or a liar.
I’m so stupid for falling for John’s bullshit.
As I enter the apartment, my stomach twists. John’s bags are near the door. He hasn’t left. This will be brutal. He’ll have heard the alarm deactivating, so I can’t hide.
I trudge toward the living room. He has his back to me, staring at the, in his words, “glorious view.”
“How dare you!” he growls. “How dare you allow him to ban me, ME, from the arena!”
Did not have that accusation on my bingo card, but if he’s doubling down, so am I.
“John, I have great news. Which bedroom is Jamal’s?” I act calm and excited.
“What are you talking about?” he barks, unable to keep track of the mountain of lies over the years.
“Which room did he sleep in during your Christmas holidays together?” John pales and I keep going.
“We’re friends now,” I lie. “He really wants to keep the old tradition of spending it here with you. He also apologized for excluding me. Jamal admitted he was jealous that I got more of your attention than he did.” That’s only a partial lie. Sue me.
“He said that?” John hesitates.
“Won’t it be great to be all together? I thought I’d put Christmas decorations in his room. Which one is his? I can’t believe I didn’t ask before.” My smile hurts to fix into place, but I manage it.
“You’ve wasted enough of my time. I need to get back.” John storms by me and calls the front desk for valet service.
“Which room?” I ask again.
“Third door on the right,” he huffs as if telling me is an inconvenience.
“Thanks.” I shrug and decide against compounding the lies by saying how excited Jamal is for this family reunion.
The staff here knows my dear old stepfather, and he only has to wait a minute for someone to bring a cart and take his bags.
The door snicks shut, and I’m alone. I laugh all the way down the hall to the third door on the right and swing open my bedroom door. He didn’t even bother to check where my room is.
My victory is hollow when I realize I don’t have anyone to celebrate with.