12. CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
brADY
I swear to God, if Miranda doesn’t get off my ass, I am literally going to scream.
I see Gretchen emerge from the office and head straight for an available pole.
She does a basic spin, followed by some move where she kicks her legs in the air in a rainbow, and then begins to dance alongside the pole, feet planted firmly on the ground.
She’s noticeably shorter now – ah , I realize, no shoes.
I smile at her, but between the darkness and the noise, I don’t think she sees me.
Meanwhile, I choose to dance with the bride, who I figure is the safest bet in the whole place.
Arrow shoots daggers at me from across the room, as if I myself tripped her employee and caused the scene on the stage, but we exchange no words.
Miranda tries to turn me around so that I can pay attention to her, but all I am watching is the glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until this particularly hellish nightmare can come to a close.
Finally, after hoisting the bride up into an aerial hoop with Max and pretending to worship her à la Cleopatra, our dance crew’s last song comes on, and with less than three minutes until my inevitable departure, I attempt to make my way back to Gretchen.
I’m steps away from her when Miranda pops up in front of me like a bad game of Peek-a-Boo. “Hey, lover,” she slurs. Despite being cut off from Jell-O shots, I’ve seen her take at least two more airplane bottles of alcohol out of the bras of her friends.
“Nope,” I say. “I’m just the entertainment.”
“Tell it to the girl-boner I’ve been nursing all night.”
Gross. I shake my head and try to circumvent her.
“Brady, will you please just come outside and talk to me?” she pleads. “Two minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
“My God,” I say. “Miranda, what part of no don’t you understand? We have nothing to talk about. All conversations came to an abrupt halt when you cheated on me and disappeared. That was your doing, not mine,” I remind her.
“Jesus, Brady, I don’t want to do this here!” she says, exasperated but also definitely wasted. “It’s not what you thought it was.”
“So, you weren’t trying to sleep your way to the top?”
“No!” she cries. “I mean, yes, I wanted the job, but it all got blown out of proportion,” she says.
“See? And you got even more than you bargained for! You got yourself a whole new life on the west coast! But please don’t come back here and try to pick up where we left off.”
“Brady,” she begins, placing her hands on my wrists.
I pull away. “No,” I say, firmly. “It’s fine, like I said. I don’t care. Please, just let it go, sober up, and uh, you know. Have a good life.”
Her expression morphs, and now she's smiling. “It’s fine, Brady. Besides, I’m engaged.”
What? I wonder. She holds up her left hand, and sure enough, there’s a diamond. “Then why are you out here trying to hook up with me?”
Miranda shrugs, then tips sideways a little. I reach out to keep her from falling over. “Like I said, I just wanted to explain myself to you. I thought maybe if I reminded you how good we were together, you’d at least hear me out,” she says.
How good we were? Is this girl kidding? It doesn’t matter, because the song ends, and it’s time for us to go.
“Not tonight, Miranda. I’ve got to run. Good luck to you,” I say.
I turn towards the door, wishing I’d had the chance to talk to Gretchen, but when I turn back to see where she is, she’s busily helping the guys from Three Fools set up a buffet of what appears to be ballpark snacks on the catering table.
This time, I adhere to the standard protocol of not darting out into the parking lot in my skivvies.
I follow the guys to the back, where Big Mike delivers us each a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and we head out as a pack into the parking lot.
Arrow doesn’t follow us out right away. It takes her an extra 15 minutes to emerge into the lot, but when she does, she hands Mike a large yellow envelope and thanks us for our time.
“Almost ten grand,” she says. “You guys should be proud; I think that’s a record. ”
Mike and Max work together to split the money ten ways on the back of Mike’s tailgate, while the rest of us just hang around, checking our phones and generally staying quiet so as not to cause a disturbance in the neighborhood this late at night.
The soundproofing on the converted warehouse is really incredible , I think.
From out in the parking lot, you really can’t hear a thing, whereas inside the building, one’s eardrums are assaulted with a constant, heavy thump of bass.
When all is said and done, we each walk away $955 in cash, and by the time Big Mike gets me back to my apartment, I only have one thing left on my mind.
I make myself a bowl of ramen soup and wait to hear the jingle of late-night keys in the lock. When I finally hear Gretchen coming down the hall, I carefully open my door and cough three times so I won’t startle her.
She looks at me, pushing her own door open, lugging the same tote bag from last night. “Hey,” she says.
“What’s up?” I ask quietly, so as not to disrupt the precious slumber of the zoo creature down the hall.
“Nothing,” she replies.
“I'd really like to talk to you, if you’re not too tired,” I offer. The words sound borderline pathetic, but they’re genuine, and I think she can sense that.
She eyeballs me, pursing her lips in thought. Then, Gretchen tilts her head to the side and says, “Got any snacks?”
“Nothing great,” I respond honestly, “But I make the world’s best ramen soup, and I would be honored if you’d let me whip up a package for you.”
She nods, sets the bag inside her door, and follows me back to my place. I shut the door behind her, grab a package of ramen out of the pantry, and measure out two cups of water into my saucepan, which is still on the stove.
“Nothing gives off a summer vibe quite like a late night bowl of noodle soup, am I right?” I joke.
“Brady,” she says, her voice softer than it was last night. “Why am I here?”
“For the fine culinary experience?” I joke.
“I mean it. Why’d you wait up?”
“I, uh. I wanted to talk to you. About that woman.”
“You mean, the love of your life?”
“Oh my God, nothing could be further from reality. Also, I had some questions for you – namely, since when are you a pole dancer? I thought your job was glorified shot girl.”
“Cherry called in sick,” she explains. “What about you?”
“Huh?” I ask.
“Well, you’re one to talk – I thought last night was a one-time thing for you? What – you had a taste of the limelight and now you’re addicted?”
I laugh. “Not the limelight, nope.”
“The money?”
I shrug, hoping my honesty won’t make me seem soft or desperate or worse, entirely financially unstable. But Gretchen just nods in silent understanding. “Okay, so we’ve got several items on the late-night chat agenda, then,” I say. “I’d like to start with Miranda, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Sure thing,” she says. “Shoot.”
“I dated her back in college.”
“Lucky you.”
“Then she slept with someone else behind my back.”
“Oh,” Gretchen says, her expression changing from Himalayan-salty to cloudy with a chance of ramen noodles.
“And as if that wasn’t enough, the wife of the person she cheated on me with decided to set fire to the sorority house where she was living.”
“Holy shit! Seriously?”
“Mm hmm,” I nod. “Which resulted in Miranda moving across the country, only to show up at my place of employ all these years later.”
“You mean, my place of employ?”
“Correct.”
“Wow. That is not what I thought.”
“What did you think, exactly?”
“Old girlfriend, sure. Reminded of all the good times she had with you, on account of getting a glimpse of you in your little baseball outfit.”
“You make it sound like I’m a little league champion.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, as explained, you had it all wrong. And I kind of knew that you were harboring some misguided notions, which was why I wanted to clear the air.”
“You don’t owe me anything, though,” she points out.
“I know. But I wanted you to know.”
“Okay. So now I know.” She smiles, and I feel a little better.
“I just don’t want you hating me again.”
“Brady, it would be really hard to hate you now that I’ve seen your bare ass cheeks.”
I feel the heat rise up into my face. “Thank you for reminding me.”
“Okay. My turn for a question.”
“Please.” I motion to her with my wooden spoon. Then, I stir her soup. Almost ready.
“Are you planning on stripping every night?”
“Truth?” I ask. “I think I’ve found my heart’s passion, the art of the full-body shave.” I laugh. “No. I honestly didn’t plan to do more than just one night – yesterday should have been my first and last time visiting you at work.”
“So, what brought you back?”
“Opportunity knocked. I mean, you really can’t hate on a place that’s doling out cash like that. Also, I’ve got bills to pay, and much to my surprise, money does not grow on trees.”
“I still can’t believe your father kicked you out of your house.”
“Yeah, he’s a delight,” I agree, pouring her soup into a bowl. I grab a spoon and a fork from the utensil drawer and carry the meal over to Luis’ dining room table. “Here. Have a seat.” She does. Gretchen wraps a long braid of noodles around her fork and blows carefully before taking a bite.
“This actually hits the spot,” she says once she swallows. “Thank you.”
“House special,” I reply. “Anyway, to your point, it was all just stupid family drama. I didn’t want to work for Diamond Excelsior long term, anyway. Being an assistant manager at a country club restaurant is not exactly my dream job.”
“No, I can see that,” she deadpans. “Swinging around your sperm worm for the masses, though. Life goals, am I right?” She takes a sip of the broth from her spoon.
I grin. “Last night was actually a new low for me. That was the first time I’d ever done that.”