7. Theoretical Mechanical Advantage
SEVEN
THEORETICAL MECHANICAL ADVANTAGE
Kaley
“Bodie is in so much trouble.” Rose cackles, holding up the many-strapped bodysuit.
“Trouble?” I work my way down the rack of pretty pink silk balconette bras that caught my eyes when we entered Ooo La La, the specialty lingerie shop I frequent.
My job may call for practicality on the outside—hence my usual uniform of polos and khakis—but that doesn’t mean I can’t girl-it-up underneath.
Although, after how things went down with Evan, I’m having trouble mustering up the usual enthusiasm I have over matching bra and panty sets.
“I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me the reason behind the dating app on Evan’s phone.”
Rose does not look like a woman who’s denied much. And I might be sympathetic to her frustration with her husband if I wasn’t too busy indulging in an unsafe quantity of self-pity.
Unsafe for my bank account.
Finding my size, I drop the bra on top of the other selections I’ve made inside the clear tote the store offers its customers as they shop. I squat down to grab the matching, high-cut cheeky panties from the rack below.
“Don’t worry.” She winks. “I’ll get it out of him.”
“No need to go to trouble on my account.” Matching panties procured, I stand.
“I’m pretty sure that if Evan couldn’t explain it on one of the many voicemails he left me, then it just can’t be explained.
” At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Because after three days of recorded pleas for me to allow him to explain, I’m almost curious enough to call him back.
However, seeing as curiosity killed the cat, I’m of the opinion that curiosity won’t be good for my heart either.
To the left, the black lace bra and thong set I bought a week ago, the same one that Evan stared at in awe in his office, mocks me. I shift right toward the hot pink push-up bras.
“Well, I’m pissed.” Rose clucks. “Bodie is in for it if he thinks there’s a chance in hell he can keep a secret from me for long.” As if divulging a secret, she leans over the rack between us. “I don’t know if you know this, but even without kinky lingerie, I’m a lot to handle.”
I do my best not to react.
Because despite Rose thinking her over-the-topness is undisclosed information, everyone who has ever met, or even seen Rose, can’t help but be very much aware of it.
I mean, just three days after meeting me, she called, asked where I buy my underwear, then invited me to help her pick out thongs.
Then Rose—astronaut wife and oil billionaire—showed up this afternoon wearing a pilgrim costume leotard, having just come from her pole dancing class, where she and her classmates had been rehearsing for their autumn holiday recital.
Pole dance classmates who are mostly women between the ages of sixty to eighty—including her mother-in-law.
So yes. I fully believe that Rose West is “a lot” to handle.
However, when it comes to her husband, I can’t help give Bodie the benefit of the doubt seeing as he and Rose have been together long enough to have a one-year-old.
“I don’t know.” Finding the push-up bra cups too padded for my liking, I move down the row. “Bodie seems pretty resilient.”
Rose snorts, dropping the bodysuit in her hand into her own clear shopping bag. “Yeah, he is.” She pauses, her features softening in a way that makes me both wistful and jealous. “He’s a good man, too.”
I can’t argue that as, just five minutes ago, I witnessed him dropping Rose off—in all her pilgrim spandex glory—then waiting until she entered the store before driving off in a metallic pink minivan with spinning rims to take their daughter, Citali—sitting in a bedazzled, cow print car seat—out for frozen yogurt.
Resilient, reliable, unflappable. That’s how I’d describe Vance “Bodie” Bodaway.
Too bad not all men are like him.
As if manifested by my brooding thoughts, the shop door opens, and the voicemail king himself enters.
“What are you doing here?” As the question echoes around the store, I move my eyes toward Rose.
“Don’t look at me.” Rose holds both hands up at my glare. “I’m team Kaley the Nut Crusher.”
“Rose didn’t know.” Evan, also holding both hands up—though his are more like trying to calm a wild animal than in innocence—steps closer. “Bodie told me where you were.”
“Son of a bitch.” Rose crosses her arms over her chest.
Evan, eyes cutting to Rose, cringes.
Behind Rose, the shop employee who greeted us upon entering starts making her way toward us.
I lower my voice, replacing my earlier surprise with seething frustration. “I don’t care how you got here, I want you to leave. I have nothing to say to the guy who mentions exclusivity only to have his phone blow up with possible matches from a dating app.”
Evan clasps his hands tightly, extending them forward. “Those weren’t my matches.”
I scoff.
“They were my mom’s.”
There’s a beat of silence as I try and fail to process that. “I’m sorry, what?” I replay the serious and heartfelt conversation we shared the night of our kiss. “But your mom…”
The shop worker reaches Rose. But before she can ask what’s going on or kick us out, Rose leans over and whispers in her ear.
Sharon—as her name tag reads—raises both brows at whatever Rose says and looks between Evan and me with interest.
Great. Another spectator.
Ignoring them, Evan holds my gaze. “My real mom died, yes. I meant my stepmother.”
I cross my arms, the shopping bag hanging on my forearm swinging in front of me. “You never mentioned you had a stepmom.”
“I never had the chance.” Evan runs a hand through his hair, the tawny locks sticking up at odd angels.
“We closed down the restaurant right after I mentioned about my mom and then my dad.” He rests his hand on a rack only to jerk it back when he sees it’s a display of monokini negligees.
“Then the very next day, you canceled our upcoming date and started avoiding me.”
The logic in his explanation only serves to make me more annoyed. “Even if the whole stepmom thing is true, how does it make sense that your stepmother’s dating app notifications are on your phone?”
“This is getting good,” Rose whispers.
Employee Sharon nods, then glances at the strapped bodysuit inside Rose’s bag. “We have a matching riding crop for that.”
Without looking away from Evan and me, Rose nods. “I’ll take it.”
“Can we”—Evan steps closer, eyes cutting to our audience—“talk somewhere else?”
I frown at the shortened distance between us. “Why?”
“It’s just that it’s kind of hard to talk in front of”—he gestures at our surroundings—“all this.”
Sharon bristles.
Feeling insulted on behalf of her and my lingerie drawer at home, my anger rears. “And just what is wrong with ‘all this’?” I air quote, my shopping bag whacking into a display table of panties.
Sharon tuts.
“Nothing.” Hands out, he gestures around the shop. “I love all of this.” He nods to the employee as if in apology. Returning his gaze to me, he mutters, “I’d just rather not talk about my mom, or us , in the middle of it.”
Unmoved, and a little pleased by his discomfort, I hold my ground. “Consider yourself lucky that I’m talking to you at all.”
Sighing, Evan grabs his phone from the back of his jeans. “Fine.” After a few taps, he slides it back in his pocket.
Then he stands there. Silent.
I glance at Rose.
She shrugs.
Another few seconds pass before I lose patience. “ Well ?”
“Just a minute.” At whatever look I give him, he’s quick to add, “Please.”
I think of the dead curious cat, but I wait.
As do Rose and Sharon.
A minute later, a woman enters the store, wearing black ankle jeans, a front-tucked, silk button-down blouse, and oversized Chanel sunglasses.
Sharon opens her mouth, probably to welcome her into the shop, but remains silent when Evan, moving closer to the woman, kisses her cheek.
“Kaley.” He ushers the woman toward me. “This is my stepmother, Kathy.”
What. The. Hell.
“Hello, Kaley.” The woman, Kathy, removes her sunglasses, tucking them into the small handbag on her wrist. “I was so happy when Evan asked me to come meet you.” She smiles warmly, a smile that seems far too smooth and youthful for a woman who—I calculate roughly—should be in her seventies.
“Sorry about Evan.” She rolls her eyes as if Evan’s behavior is a long-standing problem, but the smile on her face speaks of how much she cares.
Seemingly as confused as I am, Rose speaks up. “I would’ve said sister, not mother.”
Kathy tucks her ash blond bob behind her ear. “Evan and I do have more of a sibling relationship than mother and son.” She shrugs, the movement elegant. “I was twenty-six when I married his father, who was forty-one at the time.”
“I was twelve,” Evan adds.
“Oh.” Overwhelmed by this information, I can see how Evan might not have had time to share it with me that night. “But”—I stare at the floor, trying to sort through everything—“what about the notifications?”
“Ah, well…” Kathy’s smile shifts to one of embarrassment. “My stepson can be a bit overprotective.”
Evan shrugs but doesn’t disagree.
“At my birthday lunch last week, I told Evan I wanted to try dating again.” She glances at Rose and Sharon. “My husband passed away two years ago.”
They nod sympathetically.
Kathy, looking charmingly awkward, turns back to me. “And I happened to mention downloading a dating app and…” She releases a deep sigh, eyes cutting to Evan.
“So what?” Rose asks Evan. “You decided to download the app yourself and pimp her out?”
Evan chokes on his next breath.
“No, not quite.” Kathy smiles as she pats her stepson’s back. “To make Evan feel better about me creating a dating profile, I gave him my login information to check it over. That way he could see that I wasn’t giving the—” She looks at Evan with a question in her eyes.
Recovered from his choking fit but still looking uncomfortable, Evan clears his throat. “Creepers.”
“Yes.” Kathy’s lips press together as if trying to contain a smile.
“That I wasn’t giving the ‘creepers’ too much information.
” She coughs lightly. “And I also agreed that he could check in every once in a while so he’d know if I agreed to any dates.
” Her slim shoulders lift and fall. “That way he wouldn’t have to suffer through asking me about my dating life and” —she rolls her eyes at Evan—“he’d be less inclined to install a GPS tracker on my phone. ”
Rose sputters. “You were going to tag your mom?”
He shrugs, looking not the least bit guilty. “Can’t be too careful.”
While Rose, Sharon, and Kathy all share looks of contemplation, incredulity, and resigned amusement, my thoughts go to my mom.
I wonder if I could’ve been more like Evan is now when I was growing up, that maybe if my mom had had someone looking out for her, she wouldn’t have ended up dating loser after loser until she finally gave up on love altogether.
Evan, taking my silence for disbelief, steps closer. “I know it sounds unbelievable, Kaley, but I swear?—”
“Oh, I believe it.” Rose nods. “I’m not saying it isn’t weird, but I would totally do the same for any of my friends.”
Evan’s brow pinches, clearly disturbed that Rose is the one to agree with his actions.
Kathy smiles fondly at her son. “He’s a bit overprotective, but you can’t blame him.
” Her eyes find mine, softening further.
“He’s an only child who lost his mom at six and then, more recently, his father.
” She squeezes her hands together, as if stopping herself from reaching out to Evan. “He means well.”
Sharon clasps her hands to her chest and sniffs.
Rose wraps an arm around her, pulling her to her side.
The truth sinks in—ridiculous and crazy as it is—and the pang in my chest is no longer from the hurt and anger. It’s more heartfelt and sympathetic. “I have one more question.”
Evan, noticing the change in my tone, perks up. “Yeah?”
I lean around him to Kathy. “Was your birthday lunch at Perry’s Steakhouse, by chance?”
Kathy’s face brightens. “Why yes, it was. How did you know?”
It’s my turn to shift uncomfortably. “I may have seen you two enter.”
Evan’s jaw drops. “ That’s why you started avoiding me?”
Too embarrassed to agree, I shrug.
We all stand there, at a loss for what comes next.
Well, not all of us.
“Happy birthday, by the way,” Rose offers Kathy, drawing her attention. “You don’t look a day over forty.”
Kathy, eyes bright with emotion as she looks between Evan and me, laughs a little too loudly. “Aren’t you sweet.”
Straightening, Sharon dabs at her eyes. “We offer a ten percent gift certificate during your birthday month.”
“Oooh.” Kathy looks around with interest.
“Please, God.” Evan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please, wait until I’m not here to shop for underwear.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud.” Rose walks over to Kathy, sliding an arm around her. “Let’s make the most of that discount.” She leads her toward the back of the store, Sharon following.
“I love your outfit,” Kathy says to Rose, looking her up and down. “Very festive.”
“Why thank you.” Rose grabs a peek-a-boo teddy off a rack they pass, holding it out in front Kathy before handing it to Sharon. “By the way, have you ever thought of taking up pole dancing?”
Their voices fade as they meander their way to the back, leaving Evan and me alone.
Evan, looking slightly ill, turns to me, his eyes wide. “She’s kidding about the pole dancing, right?”
But before I can answer, he shakes his head. “Never mind.” Closing the distance between us, he takes my shoulders in his hands. “I’m just glad we’re finally alone.”
I wonder if he’d still be glad if he knew Rose was leading Kathy in the direction of the store’s cultivated selection of vibrators.
Seeing the hopeful expression on his face, I decide this may be one instance where ignorance is bliss.
“And I’m sorry for all the confusion.”
“I’m sorry for the fastball to your penis.”
His chest jolts with a short burst of laughter. “Don’t worry about it.”
But I am worried about it. My eyes move toward the front of his jeans. “I didn’t do any lasting damage, did I?”
His eyes fall to the large collection of lingerie in my shopping bag. “Care to find out for yourself?”
Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”