Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I’m on the patio in my bikini top and pajama shorts, doodling.
It’s all I can do to defuse thoughts of Gen and Jaeger’s date today.
I woke up early, irritable and out of sorts, and found a plain notepad in a drawer in the kitchen.
My drawing this morning is larger and more elaborate than my usual, depicting the casino in all its glory.
There’s a line of slots and a waitress flagrantly leaning over her customer, sugaring him up with a drink and a smile, and eyeing his pot of coins.
A busboy wipes a table behind the waitress, snatching a twenty from her cash caddy.
In the background, a man in a suit preys on a pretty waitress while sipping a drink in the lounge.
The scene is my rendition of the casino subculture—what I’ve been calling Casino Real World. Security guards the house’s money, but not the people within. The powerful prey on the weak or clueless, and everyone’s out for themselves.
The sound of pipes rumbling from below the house erupts as I finish my sketch. Gen’s finally up and in the shower. She said on our way home last night that she and Jaeger were going out around lunchtime, and it’s already eleven thirty.
Not two minutes after the pipes begin their noisy caterwauling, the doorbell rings. “Gen! Door!” I yell.
The last thing I want is to see Gen leaving with Jaeger. If they want to date and make babies, fine, but I don’t need to be a witness.
The doorbell rings again, followed by a couple of firm knocks. I lean back and pull the screen door open. The water’s still whining through the pipes.
Shit. I hobble off my lounge chair and walk to the front. Jaeger’s silver truck is visible through the living room window. I take a deep breath and calmly open the door, plastering on a bland expression.
Jaeger’s wearing a red baseball cap and a navy T-shirt, his shoulder muscles bulging from the way he hunches to get his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans.
I swallow hard. Why does he have to look so good? The aftershave he wears mixed with fabric softener and something unique to him wafts toward me, and I want to tongue his neck. Damn him. I take a step back. Everything about this situation is just cruel.
He leans on the doorjamb, eyes blatantly running the length of me before resting on the pad in my hand.
“Come in.” My tone is terse, but whatever. I’m doing my best here. I toss the pad on the couch and walk to the bathroom door. The shower is finally off. “Gen! Jaeger’s here.”
When I turn around, Jaeger is staring at my sketch. I sweep over and pick it up, tucking it under my arm.
He looks me dead in the eye as if this, too, I’ve kept from him. “Nice drawing.”
“It’s nothing. Doodles. So”—I’d better say it before I’m too angry to—“I wanted to thank you for helping out last night. Gen’s ex is a jerk. I didn’t want him bothering her.” I pause for a second, deciding how much of my feelings to reveal. “You were very convincing.”
Jaeger’s eyes narrow and he scans my face.
I duck my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. I shouldn’t have said that. I slide the pad facedown on the kitchen counter and shift loose papers around while we wait for Gen.
I always answer the door in my bikini top and it’s never bothered me before, but it does today. I should have put on a shirt, I think, adjusting the strings along my ribs. When I look up, Jaeger’s gaze is following the trail of my fingers. He quickly looks away.
This is awkward. “Want something to drink?”
He shakes his head and sinks onto the couch. Gen walks out of the bathroom in shorts and a T-shirt. She hurries into the bedroom, her wet hair dampening the back of her top. “Be ready in a minute,” she says, smiling prettily at Jaeger as she passes.
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence later, Gen pops back into the living room, hopping on one foot and fastening her flats, a small purse dangling across her chest. “Ready. Sorry to make you wait.”
Jaeger rises and moves to the door, opening it for her. He follows her out. “See you later, Cali.”
This is it. The defining moment when Jaeger goes from being an available guy to off-limits forever.
“Goodbye,” I say, but they’ve already left.
Instead of staring at the front door, waiting for Gen to return in order to interrogate her about her date with the guy I have a crush on, I check email. Two messages have arrived from Harvard Law, one with information on orientation, the other on financial aid.
It almost makes me angry how much the program will cost. I’ve considered deferring for a year, though that’s seems more painful.
Like dragging out the inevitable. I never considered the money until this summer, working full-time for the first time in my life.
The tuition isn’t a problem for the trust fund kids, but it is for me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have ruled out the less expensive programs. But that doesn’t feel right either.
Law school is everything I’ve worked for, but lately it feels like someone else’s dream.
The cost to attend would probably seem worth it if the program were something I felt passionate about.
My mom used to joke about Tyler and me becoming lawyers and doctors, but really, she didn’t care what we became, as long as we made something of our lives.
Tyler was the science geek, while I latched on to the idea of arguing for a living.
That was a good enough reason ten years ago.
Now, with a future in law staring me in the eye, I’m having second—and third—thoughts.
I’m so confused and emotionally wrung out I don’t know which way is up. I shut off the computer, change my clothes, and grab the keys to Gen’s car. It won’t help my mood to be here when they return.
I search the fridge and jot down a list of groceries we need.
Before I head to the store, I stop by the bank to deposit my tips, which consist of a hell of a lot of singles.
Most of my tips come in the form of chips, but there are purists who give cash.
According to the bank teller, I’m either working at the casinos or I’m a stripper. I’m keeping her guessing.
A farmers’ market is going on in the bank lot, so I park across the street. As I exit my car, a man in crew sandals, beige shorts, and sunglasses exits a motel nearby with a woman I recognize from the casino. She’s the sweet waitress who was crushing on the cashier.
Head down, she walks out of the motel room without a backward glance at the man. There’s a swagger in the man’s step that’s missing from the woman’s rapid departure.
I stare until they’re gone, because the scene bothers me.
The waitress looked seriously upset. Obviously, she and this guy are having some sort of liaison.
What’s disturbing, aside from the fact that the woman didn’t look happy, is that I think the guy is one of the executives from the casino who trolls Gen’s lounge.
I shake my head. I have too much to worry about without piling on creepy Casino Real World drama.
The errands take less time than I anticipated and I return to the house early—seconds before Gen returns with Jaeger.
My timing sucks.
Jaeger walks around the hood of his truck and nods. “Cali,” he says, a happy little smile curling his mouth. He walks with Gen toward the front door, but reaches over as he passes me and grabs one of the large grocery bags from my arms. “Let me get that.” He relieves me of the second bag as well.
“Okaaay.” I should be grateful for the help, but Jaeger looks too pleased after his date with my best friend and I’m trying extremely hard not to be jealous.
It’s not working.
I follow them inside the cabin, and Jaeger sets the groceries on the counter.
Gen and Jaeger look at me and then at each other, a secret message passing between them. Gen grins warmly at Jaeger, and that’s all I need to see.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” I say, and cross to the back door. I want to be anywhere but watching the two of them say their lovey goodbyes.
“I’ll see you later, Gen,” I hear Jaeger say as I open the back door and step out onto the patio.
Gen joins me seconds later. “Hey.” There’s a quiver in her voice that only comes out when she’s nervous. “What have you been up to?”
What have I been up to? I’m fucking dying, trying to keep busy because you’re with the guy I want to kiss and make out with and glue myself to!
I wave toward the bags of groceries warming on the kitchen counter. “Errands.”
Gen sits in the lounge chair beside me and pulls up her knees, feet flat on the plastic.
“How about you. How was your date?”
She looks over nervously. “Fine. It wasn’t a date, though. We were just getting together. He wanted to show me something.”
I’m sure he did. She doesn’t elaborate, and I’m feeling too stubborn to ask for more information.
“Cali, I was wondering—can I have that sketch you did today?”
What? That’s what she’s thinking about? We are seriously in two different worlds right now.
In fact, there’s a deep chasm in our friendship that I’m responsible for.
If I hadn’t dragged Gen to Lake Tahoe this summer, none of this would have happened.
Eric and I probably would have broken up, but at least I wouldn’t be in a love triangle with my best friend.
“Why?” I ask, because the request seems odd under the circumstances. There’s no way Gen can’t feel the strain in our friendship. Or maybe, because I’m the one who caused the problem, I’m the only one who knows it exists. I never ’fessed up to my feelings for Jaeger. I’ve been too busy denying them.
She brushes nonexistent dirt off her shorts. “I don’t know. I just liked it.”
“Sure, Gen,” I say harshly, rising as I do. I’m taking out my anger on her and she doesn’t deserve it, but I can’t help myself. “Have whatever of mine you want.” I walk inside the house, grab the pad, and toss it on her lap.
Her lips part, her expression shocked.
I don’t say anything. I don’t put away the groceries. I simply walk out the front door and leave.