Chapter 26
Gracie
“Yay! I’m so happy to see you!” Tatum runs the short distance from the sidewalk outside baggage claim to where I stand next to my car, bouncing on my toes and shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun.
It’s hard to believe it took me an hour to get here from the Hollywood Hills, but that’s LA for you, I guess.
Tatum skips across the bus lane and tosses her overnight bag into my open trunk before giving me a hug. “Me too,” I sigh.
As soon as we’re belted in, Tatum starts asking questions. “Who are your friends? What do you do outside of work? How’s living with Ky working out?” I navigate us out of the busy airport and into the traffic on Century Boulevard on the way to the freeway.
At the first red light, I level her with a look. “You want me to answer all of those?”
“Of course I do, but not all at once. Is there somewhere we can grab a drink?”
I input the name of the hotel in Santa Monica where Tatum is staying, and we drive straight there.
Another trafficky hour later, I feel the cool ocean breeze kissing my skin as it travels east beyond the palm trees.
It’s nearly four in the afternoon. We’re situated at a perfect patio table on top of the Proper Hotel, where couples and friend groups sit at a rooftop bar, gawking at the coastal view and basking in the late afternoon sunshine.
“This could not be more perfect. It was foggy when I left San Francisco.”
“It’s always foggy in San Francisco. I miss it.” It’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud since I arrived here, and I consider how well I’ve adjusted to LA.
“Aw, you just miss me.” Tatum smiles and accepts a spicy margarita from our server, who puts an identical one in front of me.
“I do. Of course I do.”
“But a job full of hot soccer players must blunt the blow a little bit.” Tatum should know.
She’s been engaged to Donovan Taylor, a star player for the San Francisco Strikers soccer team, for a while now.
We met in grad school, where we both studied computer science.
She works for a virtual reality company and, a few years ago, she was put in charge of building a soccer game featuring Strikers players as avatars.
This is where my knowledge of soccer started and ended, and Tatum has always been fine with that.
I’ve been needing the companionship of a friend who really knows me since I arrived in town. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, pointedly ignoring the opportunity to tell her about Hunter, mainly because his reaction this morning was so confusing that I’m not sure what to say about him.
Until I talk to him, I’ll say nothing.
The view from the roof deck is exactly what I need after weeks holed up at my desk analyzing player stats and game footage. Looking toward the ocean, I inhale a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment to feel the breeze on my skin.
At the table next to ours, three guys laugh a little too loudly, and I wonder if they’re trying to get our attention. I’m never good at sensing these things. Maybe they’re just loud. “You ladies here for dinner?” one of them asks.
I turn to look at him, noting his blond hair combed neatly over his forehead and the clean shave.
He’s nice looking enough, but after spending so much time with my rougher, unshaven roommate, I realize my tastes have changed.
I find myself checking his arms for tattoos, and when I see none, I’m even more disinterested.
“No, just having some girl time. Catching up, doing our thing,” Tatum says before turning in her chair to more squarely face me. The guy’s face falls, but he gets the hint.
I raise an eyebrow. “Just killed a man’s dreams, right there,” I say quietly.
She shrugs. “They needed killing. You and I have soccer players to keep us warm at night.”
“Speak for yourself, sister.”
“Oh, come on. I can tell when you’re hedging. A month ago, you told me Kyler’s soccer star friend moved in, and then you clammed up about him for weeks. I know what that means in Gracie-speak. You and Hunter have something going, just admit it.”
“How? How do you know these things?”
She snorts a laugh. “Just tell me about Hunter.”
I take a big swig of my drink and tell her everything about last night. The timing of her visit couldn’t be more perfect because I actually need a download with a friend who can help me figure out how to navigate this new situation.
If it even is a situation.
“But then, it got really awkward this morning, and we haven’t had a chance to talk it through. So basically, that’s it.” I want to say more, but I snap my lips shut like I need a physical barrier to keep from oversharing.
“I’m afraid I’m gonna need more details,” Tatum singsongs as though this is all a juicy story and I’m holding out to build tension or something.
I sip my drink, which, when combined with the one last night, is more alcohol than I’ve had since that evening when Hunter introduced me to scotch. And now my thoughts are back on him.
“Come on. It’s me, Gracie. You know I don’t judge, and I can tell you’re holding stuff in. Maybe it’ll feel good to let it out.”
I drain the last third of my drink and feel the warming effects of the tequila. Liquid courage I shouldn’t need with my friend. “I don’t know why it makes me so nervous to talk about him.”
Tatum orders two more drinks. “Can I get you some bar snacks or anything to go with your drinks?” our server asks. I note that his voice is easily an octave higher than Hunter’s low rasp, and there I go, thinking about him again. Apparently, I’m not capable of stopping.
“Bar snacks. Absolutely,” I say, looking around and spying a chips and guacamole platter that would do a good job of absorbing some of the tequila from my margarita.
I order that along with truffle fries, making all of my fried carb dreams come true.
Tatum adds a plate of tuna tartare, and now we’re basically set for the rest of the evening.
“You’re staying here with me tonight, so don’t even think about turning me down,” Tatum says.
I’m all set to tell her I need to be at Kyler’s, but then I take another look at the blue Pacific and decide this is what my soul needs.
Time with a good friend. A hotel room with a spectacular view.
Some time to think about Hunter and what to say to him when I get back.
“Okay. Not gonna argue.”
“Great. I hear they have fluffy white robes in the room. We can wear those later and order latenight room service. It’ll be like when we were in the dorms, only without the crappy cafeteria food and the fraternity guys next door.”
Another night in a hotel, this one equally awesome with its view of the ocean and proximity to the beach. How is this my life?
Two months ago, I was licking my wounds over torpedoing my job and my life in the Bay Area, and now I’m in a gorgeous place with gorgeous people, and my heart feels full.
I smile at the memory of our college years, grateful to have Tatum here. “So tell me again why you came without Donno?” The exhibition game between the Devils and the Strikers isn’t for a couple weeks, so I know she didn’t travel from San Francisco for that.
“I have some business here next week.” She dismisses it with a flick of her hand like it’s nothing, but the woman is the head of product development at a billion-dollar company, and she’s solely responsible for growing its virtual reality gaming division into the powerhouse it is.
“So in other words, you’re meeting with…”
“The head of Major League Soccer. And the guys from basketball and football.”
“Just the top brass for every major sport in the country.”
She tries to hide some false modesty behind her margarita glass, but I catch her grin. “Pretty much.”
Shaking my head, I raise my full glass for a toast. “You’re such a badass. That’s awesome.”
“Thank you. And…” She looks around us to make sure no one can overhear the conversation. “Just between you and me, I hear there’s another deal in place. With your old company. There’s going to be an announcement and a big launch event for the Devils partnership with AIFund.”
Tatum explains that she heard the Silicon Valley rumor mill says AIFund is backing an artificial intelligence game with the Devils. I kind of miss being in the know about tech news, but also, it’s kind of nice to be away from it.
I can feel the color drain from my face. “Well, I may work for the Devils, but I won’t be going to that event.”
“Why? Oh…” Tatum’s eyes go wide because she knows exactly what I’m thinking—my ex-boyfriend will be there. The one who cost me my job and then dumped me. “Peter?”
“Yeah. No need to see him. Besides, the event is probably only for bigwig execs.”
“I beg to differ. First of all, as the chief data analyst, you’re about to get a whole new playground at work, detailing out the player specs and stats for the hottest game to roll out in years. That’s totally your catnip.”
My smile at the idea of the new work challenges goes so wide that my cheeks hurt. If she’s right about the news, my job is about to become a hundred times better than my old one ever was. “That will be amazing, actually. I’d think about staying permanently for that.”
“Okay, then. You need to hold your head high in your badass job, show up looking amazing with Hunter, and make Peter jealous as the icing on a very decadent cake.”
“Hold your horses. First of all, no one at work can see me with Hunter. Peter is the perfect example of how I ruined a job over a guy. I’m not making that mistake again.”
She waves a hand in the air like she’s fanning away smoke. “So many problems with that thesis—Hunter isn’t Peter, you’re killing it in your new job, you aren’t doomed to make the same mistake again—but we’ll get to that later. For now, make Peter insanely regretful for breaking up with you.”
“I guess I can hold my head high and show him that I’m absolutely ambitious enough to flourish without him. I would really like him to leave in tears, preferably mortified publicly, but that may be too much to expect.”
“You need to look amazing. Be amazing. Show him how much better your life is without him.”
“I will do my very best.” Guess I’ll be giving my one black silk dress a run for its money.
Our chips and guac arrives on a large platter, and I don’t waste a second before scooping a heap of green goodness onto a chip and popping it into my mouth. Tatum does the same, and for a moment, we munch in silence.
It takes me back to this morning, when the conversation with Hunter ground to a halt after I tried to thank him for rescuing me. Still confused about why that would offend him, I describe the situation to Tatum.
She puts both hands on the table and levels me with a stern look. “You thanked him for sex? Like he was a paid escort or something?”
A wave of nausea hits me, and I taste bile in my throat. “That’s not what I meant.” But I realize it doesn’t matter what I meant if it sounded that way to Hunter. “Oh god, do you think that’s how he took it?”
“I hate to break it to you, sweet thing, but for a super-smart person, sometimes you have a startling inability to grasp the obvious.”
I think back on the conversation and how quiet Hunter got.
You said you don’t go to hotels for hookups. Well, neither do I.
“You think he was saying he wants more than a hookup?”
Tatum flicks me in the shoulder. “Well, yeah, because that’s basically what he said!
Why is this so hard for you to grasp?” She drums her fingers on the table impatiently, and I don’t want to ruin our time together by being obtuse and clueless.
I try to allow the thought into my head that Hunter sees me as someone different from the other women in his long dating history—someone he could hook up with more than once.
He may have alluded to that idea, but I still feel wary. I’m just hitting my stride at my job, and the last thing I need is gossip that I’m sleeping with a player. Or the impression that my analytics are biased. I need to make the right decision this time and think about my future.
But first, I need to apologize to Hunter.