Chapter 53
TABLES TURNED
Stefan
What. The. Fuck.
The next morning, after we return to San Francisco, I pace the weight room at the gym on Fillmore Street. “We can’t let her go,” I say, dragging my hand through my hair.
“We can’t tell her what to do, either,” Hayes says as he hoists a barbell in a dead lift.
I’ve never seen him so calm. So laid-back.
“How can you take it like this?” I’m so agitated I can’t focus. I can’t exercise. I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to skate tonight.
I couldn’t sleep after she told us about the offer. I said all the right things. You should consider it. It’s a great opportunity. You’d be amazing at it. Now I’m both exhausted and wound the fuck up.
What kind of shitty boyfriend would I be not to support her? But fucking hell. I’m going to tear my eyes out. “What can we do?”
“To stop her?” Hayes asks evenly as he pulls the bar up to his chest again. A Nirvana tune blasts through the gym. We’re the only ones in the free weights section at the moment.
“Yes!”
“You can’t, man. That’s not how this works.”
I park my hands on my hips. “How do you know?” I’ll pick a fight over anything evidently.
Setting the weight down, Hayes stares at me like he’s the cool, in control older brother. “Because I’ve been here before. I’ve been traded.”
“She’s not being traded,” I bite out. “She has a choice.”
“And I did too. I could have turned down an offer and, oh, gee, not had a career.” He frowns. “This is huge for her, man. Don’t you get it? This is something she has to think about. By herself. Without us.”
I burn inside. No, I seethe. I’m not mad at Ivy though. I’m mad at Birdie. I’m mad at myself. I’m mad at the world. “You know she doesn’t have to work. We could support her,” I say, grasping at straws.
Hayes laughs in my face and rolls his eyes then turns dead serious. “Dude, listen to yourself. She’s an independent woman.”
“But we could.” I’m desperate to keep her nearby. I can’t stand the thought of her going to Los Angeles.
Hayes stabs his sternum. “You think I don’t want to keep her? You think I want to watch her move to another fucking city?”
“I don’t know,” I say, scrubbing the back of my neck with my hand. “We need to do something. Can’t you think of anything?”
He grabs my shoulders. “The thing we have to do is support her. That’s what she needs.”
“How? How can we do that?”
“It’s LA. It’s not that far. We can do this,” he says, patting my shoulders, trying to reassure me.
How the hell he can be the calm one, I don’t know. But I’m glad he is because I’m a wreck. “How?” I ask again.
He lets go, breathes out hard, then paces for a minute. Then he stops, turns, and says, “I’ve got an idea.”
He does.
And it’s brilliant.
* * *
The next day, Ivy asks us to meet her at The Great Dane before work. I reserve a table, and Hayes and I bring the gift we have ready to show her we support her.
She gets to the restaurant ahead of us, and when the hostess shows us to the table, it looks like Ivy has had the same idea.