7. MJ
MJ
G racie Abrams’ voice fills my ears as I pull my Jeep into a parking spot at the diner. It’s the only restaurant within Oakridge, which should mean it’s a happening spot, but the parking lot is practically empty.
When I head inside, I already see Shannon sitting at our booth. It’s the same one we dubbed ours in high school. We always met up after Friday night football games and stayed way too late, talking and hanging out.
Looking around, the diner has changed over the years.
The black-and-white checkered tile looks dingy; the pleather booths are worn-down and lighter green than I remember.
Everything from the long counter to the pictures of celebrities on the walls has lost their luster.
It makes me sad to think that Ruby, the owner, stopped taking care of the place.
But also based on how empty it is, maybe she has little choice.
Shannon has her usually unruly red hair tied up neatly into a bun on top of her head. She has a black tank top that displays the local bar name—Hal’s—across her chest in bright pink, and I know she’ll have black shorts on if I look under the table.
“Hey,” she says once she spots me.
“Hey. How’s it going?” I ask as I sit down across from her.
Two glasses of water with lemon are already on the table. I unwrap and place a straw into the water before taking a sip. The whole time Shannon watches me, knowing I asked for this girl talk session and not rushing me to get started.
I take a deep breath. “So, I saw Mac again.” Shannon nods, urging me to continue.
“Well, let me back up. I got my dad to agree to let me help with Mac’s case.
” She raises an eyebrow. Giving her the cliff notes version of the case I found, she nods in understanding.
“So anyway, I sat in on his meeting with my dad on Monday and I’ve been reviewing the case notes and, Shan, something isn’t adding up here. ”
Shannon sucks in a breath. “MJ, that’s . . .” she pauses for a second like she’s unsure what to say and then the server appears before she can finish. We place our orders before she finishes. “That’s good?”
“Yeah, I mean, I get some law school practice and maybe even figure out how to get him out of this mess. But the files are making me think he didn’t actually do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like, the timeline doesn’t add up for one. Two, I’m pretty sure Mac doesn’t smoke, right?” I look at her for confirmation, and she nods. “Right, so why did he steal a carton of cigarettes? ”
“Idiot,” she mumbles as she looks over my head and around the diner like she’s avoiding my face right now.
“What?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” she replies a little too quickly. “So, you’re helping with the case. Things aren’t adding up. Are you also hoping for some time with Mac?” She barrels the conversation forward, jumping straight to the point.
“I don’t know, Shan.” I shrug.
“MJ, come on, it’s me.”
“Well, I really don’t know. I miss him. I have missed him. Is it wrong to force some time with him to maybe figure out what happened all those years ago?” I ask genuinely.
“No, I just . . .” she sighs. Just then, the server comes back with our food.
I place my plate in front of me, move the decorative parsley around, and pull out my phone to take a few pictures.
Shannon shakes her head at me but says nothing; it’s something I’ve done since senior year of high school.
Back then it was mostly me trying to make school lunches more appealing, but now it’s fun to try to make something as simple as a burger look more aesthetically pleasing.
After snapping a few pictures, I post my favorite to my Instagram. Caption : lunch date with the bestie #happytobehome #DinerattheRidge #lunchtime
“I almost forgot, though. So, before the meeting, Mac and I had a weird conversation.” I take a bite of my burger and almost moan at how good it tastes. It’s a shame the diner is empty.
“Weird how?” Shannon asks with a mouthful of food. She leans in to take a sip of her water .
“Weird like he called me baby.”
Shannon almost spits her water out, and I laugh. I had a feeling that would be her reaction. I probably should’ve waited for her to swallow.
“Baby? Like in what context?” I update her on the exact details of what he said and how he firmly stated that he would keep calling me MJ.
I also shared how I couldn’t focus on the rest of the meeting and didn’t take a single note.
“Well, that’s definitely interesting. But I can see where he’s coming from too.
He gave you that nickname, Em, that’s his nickname for you. We all just adopted it.”
I think about that for a minute. It makes sense, but I hadn’t thought about it like that. He gave me that nickname. Of course, Blake and Austin hopped on the MJ train after he thought of it and that’s been my name with them ever since.
“I guess that makes sense. But it doesn’t explain why he called me baby, though,” I finally admit.
“No. No, it doesn’t,” Shannon says with a chuckle.
I pick at my fries, lost in my head about what it meant that Mac called me baby, when Shannon pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Hey, Em, can I ask you something?” she asks. I nod. “Well, I know you’re helping with Mac’s case, and I get you have a few reasons but,” she pauses like she’s unsure how to proceed, “but do you really want to help with the case?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, come on. Are you really thinking about going to law school and taking over the firm one day? ”
“What else am I supposed to do? It’s all I’ve done—all I’ve planned for. Do I love law? No. But what else is there?” Shannon reaches across the table and pats my hand.
“There’s plenty out there, you just haven’t looked hard enough.
” I look back at her and shake my head ever so slightly.
I can already feel the tears welling in my eyes at the admission.
Shannon squeezes my hand. “Hey, it’s okay.
I’m just saying maybe you can find something else.
You shouldn’t be miserable doing something you don’t truly love when there’s obviously something out there that you do. ”
“What do you mean? What else do I love?” I ask, my voice cracking with emotion.
“Really, Em, you don’t see it?” I shake my head.
“What did you do when we got our food? What did you do when you were in the city going to school? We’ve all seen your Instagram, the pictures you take.
There’s gotta be something there.” She pulls out her phone and opens her Instagram and shows me her profile.
“Look, this is my Insta, full of random pictures and quotes and a hodge-podge mess of whatever I saw in the moment. Now—” She takes her phone back and flips it back to me, showing me my profile. “Look at yours.”
I take in my profile, keeping hers in mind, and I notice the difference.
She’s right. Her profile is full of anything and everything, with no rhyme or reason to it.
With mine, everything has a certain feeling.
The pictures have the same colors for at least a few rows and then the aesthetics change.
You can tell I’m back home because everything went from grays, blues, and cityscapes to pinks, oranges, and landscapes.
“Okay, but what can I do with that? It’s just pretty pictures. It’s fun.”
“It’s fun for you, but not everyone has your eye.
Remember how we were talking about that deli in the city with the boys?
” she asks. I nod, remembering our conversation by the creek.
“Okay, well, I know you shrug it off, but that deli got more business because of your posts. I guarantee if you applied yourself and did something like this for other businesses, you’d see the same results. ”
She may have a point, but I’m still not convinced it was me that generated more business for the deli. But even if she is right . . . “Okay, but again, how could I make a career doing that? Is that even a job?” I ask.
“Not sure, but I bet you could figure it out. There are businesses all around town that could use marketing to drum up business. You’re sitting in one of them right now.”
I look around the diner and really take in the old menus, the beat-up booths and chairs, and realize she’s right. In fact, most of the businesses in town are feeling run down. I thought maybe it was because I’d been away for so long, but maybe the town is struggling a bit.
June 14
Friday arrives quickly, but I’m ready for another meeting with Mac.
After reviewing the case file and putting my notes together on the things that are standing out to me, I feel like I’m understanding what happened.
I’m not quite ready to bring my questions to my dad yet and want to listen in on another meeting before I do.
My hair brushes against my neck in a sleek ponytail as I head downstairs.
The floor-length skirt with a soft floral print swishes against my ankles, and I feel light and pretty today.
The plain white tank top is a little more form fitting than I usually go for, but I’m rolling with it.
It’s all part of finding balance with this self-love journey.
I can hear Dad already on the phone in his office and I greet my mom with a smile and a kiss on the cheek in the kitchen. She smiles as I pour myself a cup of coffee. I whisper that I’m going to the library but to make sure she says bye before she leaves for work.
The sun is streaming in through the library window and as much as I would love to sit on the window seat, I refrain. I rarely sit there anymore; that was where Mac and I would spend most of our time when we hung out in the library.
I open my book to get a few minutes of fun-reading in, and I’m engrossed in the story when my mom pops her head in. “I’m heading out, Peanut. Hope you have a great day.”
“Have a good day, Mom! Love you!” I reply and then quickly return to what I was reading once I hear the front door close behind her. I jump, forcing the paperback in my lap closed, when something hits the ottoman at my feet. I look up to see Mac standing in front of me.
“Shit, you scared me! Did you just sneak in here?” I didn’t hear the doorbell and I’m not sure he would just walk in.
“Your mom let me in.”
“Oh . . . Oh yeah, that makes sense.” I look down at what hit the ottoman and feel my cheeks heat with a combination of embarrassment and anger. “So that’s where my book went. Nice to know you can still read.”
He scoffs as if I offended him and I look back up as he gives me a lopsided grin.
I fail miserably at fighting back my own smile and he grins wider, making my stomach flip a bit.
He looks so cool right now with the smile, clean jeans, and black polo shirt.
Hints of bergamot, pine, and motor oil hit my nose, and I stifle a groan.
God, this man. He looks me up and down with heated green eyes.
I am thoroughly checking him out now and, based on the look in his eyes, he’s doing the same to me.
The thought of Mac actually looking at me like this has heat pooling in my belly.
I pick up my previously missing book and flip through it as my heart races. He didn’t . . . I see the first scrawl of his handwriting in the margins and almost squeal. He did.
Closing the book and clutching it to my chest I look up, meeting his eyes. “I . . .”
“Emmalynn, was that Alexander?” My dad’s voice carries from his office and we both look away from each other quickly. Mac pivots away from me to walk toward my dad’s office.
“Hey!” Standing to go after him, I try to get his attention. He turns and looks at me, so I stand still. “Did you like it?” I gesture with the book to clarify my question.
“Read it and find out.” He says with a wink before turning and heading down the hallway. I stand there practically dumbstruck for another minute; Mac has already entered my dad’s office, and I hear Dad calling for me to get things started.
“Be there in just a moment, Dad, sorry!” I look around the library quickly, spying the box of books I brought home from school that have not made it onto the shelves yet. I find the book I’m looking for and then head into another meeting with Mac and Dad.
The meeting goes well; I ask questions and take diligent notes this time, slowly building my case.
Something feels off with this whole thing, but I think I’m still missing something.
I learn that they have set the trial date for July fifteenth, which seems far out in relation to when the crime was committed.
When I ask Dad, he clarifies that Judge Matthis is on vacation and won’t be back until the week after the Fourth.
He said it’s better to give him a week back at work before this trial, hoping to get on his good side.
Dad also shares that Henry is still declining any meetings, which means they haven’t even been able to approach with a plea bargain. It annoys me that Henry is drawing this out so much all for a carton of cigarettes and a case of beer. It’s dumb.
I close my laptop as Mac stands and shakes my dad’s hand.
“I’ll email my notes over later, okay, Dad?” I rush out as I get up to catch Mac before he leaves the house.
I catch him at the door. “Mac, wait!” He turns around to face me and his face looks almost dejected. He’s lost some of that swagger he had when he first walked in, and it makes me sad. I smile softly and hand him the book I grabbed earlier .
“I thought maybe you’d like to read my thoughts on this one.
” Colorful tabs are sticking out the side of the book and inside are highlights and notes.
Thankfully, he reaches to take the book and our fingers brush.
The butterflies that had finally settled rise back up with a vengeance. He looks up at me and his eyes soften.
“Sure, MJ. I’ll take a look.” I let go of the book, and he turns to head out the front door. My eyes follow him all the way to his car. I don’t stop watching, even as he backs out of the driveway.