Chapter 18 Dating the Enemy
Dating the Enemy
“What do you think about doing a movie marathon or something for Halloween?” I ask Katie when I get home from work the next day. I figure I can spend the first half of the night with her, and then meet up with Mark at The Rose Room for the second half.
“What did you have in mind?” Katie questions from where she’s hovering above the kitchen stove. “Also, I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches. Want one?”
“Yeah sure, I’ll take a sandwich. I was figuring we could watch all the Halloweentown movies. Maybe Hocus Pocus, too. We could light some candles and make s’mores over them.”
“I’m down. You don’t already have plans with your boyfriend?”
“Nothing official yet. Plus, I was thinking I could go out with him later in the night.” I shrug. “I did want to talk to you about him, and having dinner with him.”
“Okay. When?”
“Next weekend. After Halloween. He’ll be out of town from tomorrow until then.”
“I thought he just got back?” she says over the popping and hissing from the frying pan as she flips the sandwich.
“He did.”
“Why’s he leaving again so soon?” she asks, turning to face me with the spatula in her hand.
“You remember how I said he works with troubled youth?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, that was a very generous interpretation of the truth.”
“Okay. So what does he actually do? Is it something embarrassing?”
“No. I mean… I don’t know. You’re not going to like it, and once I tell you who he is, you’re probably going to be mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad at you? You’re not dating one of my exes, are you?
Even if you are, I don’t care,” she replies, turning back to the stove to remove the grilled cheese from the pan.
She puts it on a plate and uses the spatula to slice it in half before passing it to me.
She starts assembling the second sandwich as she continues, “It would be funny though. Please tell me it’s Jeff.
If anyone could unpack his mommy issues, it’s you. ”
“Don’t even joke. I never understood what you saw in that guy. Easily the biggest man-child I’ve ever known—personally or professionally,” I mutter.
“Yeah, because you have such great taste in romantic partners. There was Jenny—who was channeling Angelina Jolie circa her Billy Bob era—and don’t forget about Brent the cycling instructor—who didn’t even know what the word ‘zygote’ meant.
Besides, Jeff was really good in bed. Eager to please.
Apparently, the mommy issues are good for something after all,” Katie remarks with a grin.
“Yeah, what do you think I was so interested in Jenny and Brent for?”
“I bet Jenny was fun in bed,” Katie says thoughtfully.
“I can give you her number if you want to date one of my exes,” I tease.
“God no. She was insane. No amount of fun in bed is worth that hot mess express. Plus, she’s not really my type. If you know a slightly more chemically balanced male equivalent of that, let me know.”
“Why? Are you going to start dating again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Joey Carmichael and Matt Davidson dying kind of makes me feel like the whole world isn’t all doom and gloom and maybe I should stop hiding.”
“Okay. Well, I don’t know anyone who fits that description, but if I run across them, I’ll send them your way. There was this server at the restaurant we were at last night…” I joke.
“Oh yeah, back to the original topic. Dinner with your boyfriend. What does he do, and when are we having dinner?”
I take a deep breath and then exhale it. “He’s Mark Eriksson, Kay. The Black Bears’ head coach.”
She freezes, her entire body having gone rigid. After a handful of seconds, she takes a deep breath of her own, then turns to face me. “Excuse me?” she asks, the humor of a few moments ago having completely vanished.
“Yes. That’s why I’ve been reluctant to tell you about him.”
“You’re dating the enemy?” she hisses.
“He’s not the enemy, Katie, though I get that it might feel like that.
But he didn’t have anything to do with what happened.
Even the other players on the team aren’t the enemy, Kay.
If anyone has your back—ever—you know it’s me.
And you don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to.
I’m not asking you to hang out with him or to be friends, but I also don’t want to take the decision of whether or not you meet him away from you. ”
“Does he know who I am?” she asks, sounding furious.
I nod. “I told him last night.”
She snorts. “Oh good. At least you’re keeping secrets from everyone then and not just me.”
“Okay. That’s fair, and I understand why you’re mad at me.”
“Don’t fucking use your therapy-speak on me, Alyssa!” she shouts. “Of course you understand why I’m mad at you. You’re not a fucking idiot! Don’t talk to me like I’m one either!”
“Fine! I didn’t tell you because I knew it would piss you off! Happy? I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure if my relationship with him would go anywhere, but I fucking like him and I want it to go somewhere!”
“How the hell did you even meet him? Why would you ever go on a date with him? How could you?”
“How could I? I’ve never criticized you for anyone you’ve ever dated, Kay! It’d be nice if you could extend me the same courtesy.”
“I’ve never dated anyone who employs people who raped you, Alyssa! The circumstances are totally fucking different!” she roars.
“Okay. Okay. Fine. You’re right. They are different. But it’s not like he chose to hire them, and believe me, he would fire them if he could.”
“Like that makes it better?” she asks, and I smell smoke.
“Katie, the sandwich.”
“I don’t care about the goddamn sandwich, Alyssa!”
“No, it’s burning.”
“Shit!” she snaps, spinning to the stove, grabbing the frying pan, and throwing it into the sink.
“Here,” I slide the grilled cheese she gave me back toward her. I haven’t had any of it yet.
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to turn into a fight, and even though it probably seems like it right now, this isn’t me betraying you.
And it’s okay that you’re mad at me. If our situations were reversed, I’d be mad too.
I’m going to drop the subject for now, and if you want to talk about it more later, let me know.
If you decide you want to meet him, I’ll set it up, but if you never want to, that’s fine too. ”
“Yeah, whatever,” she grumbles.
I sigh but grab half of the sandwich off the island and head for my room to give her some space to cool down and process her feelings.
I’m not surprised by her reaction. It makes sense.
It’s frustrating not to be able to tell her the full story, because if I did, she’d definitely understand how and why I started dating Mark, even if she wouldn’t understand why I’m interested in him as more than a means to an end now.
I set the half of the grilled cheese I took from the kitchen on my nightstand and flop onto my bed. I’m not hungry anymore either, but I didn’t want to leave the entire sandwich sitting on the island like another slap in the face.
No-go on the dinner for now, I text Mark.
Okay. No worries. I assume you won’t be coming by tonight and I’ll see you when I get back?
Yes. I’ll call you later though
Sounds good, he replies.
“What’s wrong with you? You look terrible,” Vaughn says when he sits down across from me on Saturday.
I suck down some more coffee prior to responding.
“Seriously? No ‘Hi Alyssa, nice to see you’ before you launch into insulting me?” I sulk.
“I did what you wanted, and it blew up in my face.” I know I’m being unfair, but Vaughn can take it.
Mark’s out of town, and Katie’s not speaking to me.
There’s not exactly anyone else I can talk to about this. Besides, he insulted me first.
“What I wanted?” Vaughn questions, taking a sip of his own coffee.
“I told Mark about Katie and Katie about Mark, and now Katie’s not talking to me. She accused me of sleeping with the enemy.”
Vaughn shrugs. “From the sounds of it, he didn’t dump you, and she didn’t move out. It’ll be fine. You should try getting some sleep.”
“Gee thanks, dad,” I snap.
“If you were my daughter—” he begins.
“Yeah, I know. It’s lucky for us both that I’m not.”
Vaughn snorts. “Here’s what I figured out about Brandon Miller,” Vaughn says, handing me another folder to add to my collection.
I open it and begin flipping through it. “He slept with all these women just since I asked you to look into him?” I ask, glancing up to see Vaughn nodding. “That was only five days ago, and he’s been out of town since yesterday. There are six names on this list.”
“Yup. Five of the six are sex workers, though, so at least they’re getting something out of it. The sixth simply has no taste in men, I guess,” he replies.
“He must be a sex addict,” I mutter. “What do these women look like?”
“Next page,” Vaughn says, and I shuffle the papers around.
They’re all white, which is good news for me.
And they’re all taller than average, which is also good news.
Unfortunately, all of them have more curves than I do.
Maybe I can buy some padding and a really good push-up bra and get close enough.
It’s worth a shot. Plus, if he is a sex addict, he’s unlikely to say no even if I don’t match his type exactly.
“Can you get me some GHB?”
“GHB?” Vaughn’s brows are raised as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“At least one of them should die with date-rape drugs in their system,” I reply, staring into his eyes.
He gives a small nod and says, “Yeah. I can do that.”
I continue flipping through the pages. Brandon Miller doesn’t have much of a life outside of hockey.
It seems as though most of his remaining non-working time is spent with a rotating cast of sex workers.
Fortunately, thanks to Mark’s Halloween invitation, I know at least one time I’ll be able to bump into Brandon to get him to invite me back to his house.
Unfortunately, that means I won’t be able to go to the party with Mark.
Although if I time it right, I could spend the first part of the night with Katie—assuming she’s talking to me by that point—take a couple of hours out in the middle of the night to kill Brandon, and then still make it to Mark’s before the night is over.
Maybe even still make it to The Rose Room before the party ends.
Yeah. It could work.
“The team gets back on Halloween. When they do, can you look into Rhys Steichen?”
“Sure. You need anything else?” Vaughn asks.
“No, not unless you want to hit up Spirit Halloween with me.”
“I’m good,” he comments drily.
“Alright. Thanks, Vaughn,” I say, gathering the folder and tapping the edge against the table as I move to leave. “I appreciate the help.”
“Anytime.”
I’m wandering through the aisles of the Halloween store, looking for costumes.
I need at least three. One for luring Brandon Miller away from The Rose Room, one to make my way back to The Rose Room without drawing attention after I’ve killed him, and one to wear when I’m with Mark.
I’m going to be cutting all of my timelines really close. There’s not much margin for error.
I check my watch. It’s one in the afternoon, which means it’s three for Mark. I’m pretty sure he has a game tonight, but I don’t think that’s for a few hours yet. I FaceTime him, hoping he’ll have some time to talk.
“Hey Alyssa,” he says as he comes into focus. It took him a minute to answer, and his back is to some sort of cinder block wall.
“Hey, if I’m interrupting and it’s not a good time, we can talk later.”
“No, it’s fine. I needed to get out of that room anyway. What’s up?”
“I was thinking about Halloween, and I don’t know what time the party starts, but if I can meet you there around midnight, I’d like to.”
A smile spreads across his face. “Midnight works.”
“Okay good. Do you already have a Halloween costume?”
“No. Not yet. Why? Did you have something in mind?”
“How do you feel about couples costumes?” I ask. “Is it too nerdy? Too clingy? I’ve never done it before.”
“Any chance I get to be a first for you, I’m going to take it.”
I clear my throat but say nothing, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asks.
“God,” I grumble, amusement threading through my voice. “You are such a dick.”
“I know. I meant it though.”
“Yeah. I know. So, what do you want to be? Fred and Daphne? Beetlejuice and Lydia? Morticia and Gomez?”
“Well, of those, there’s only one right answer.”
“Morticia and Gomez?” I ask, hoping he chose right.
“Yes. Can you tango?”
“No. Can you?”
“Maybe,” he glances away from his phone, his mouth turning down as he does. He looks like he’s listening to something. A few seconds later he runs a hand through his hair, and says, “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later tonight.”
“Alright, bye,” I reply as the screen goes black.
I toss the Gomez and Morticia costumes in with the Ghostface Killer costume. There’s nothing slutty enough for the costume I’m going to wear to lure Brandon Miller away, so I settle with buying a wig and a copious amount of body paint. I’ll have to stop by a lingerie store after this.