12. Twelve
TWELVE
Meeting Huxley for coffee was a bad idea. I knew it, and yet I decided to go anyway. What was worse was that I took the time to do my hair and makeup. I even dressed up in pretty fluttery capris and a sleeveless shirt that made me look as if I had more cleavage than I actually did.
Normally, I would have settled down to get my words done in capri joggers and tennis shoes. My hair would have been thrown back in a messy knot, and my makeup would have been completely ignored.
I tried not to think about my appearance too much. Huxley had made it clear that he thought of me as a geek and nothing more. Still, I went over and above my normal standard, to the point where Lucy — who was just getting in — commented.
“You look nice,” she said as she pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. She didn’t look all that steady on her feet.
I didn’t know what got to me in the moment — perhaps it was what Huxley had said the previous evening — but something inside of me snapped.
“You need to get a job,” I said. My tone wasn’t mean but firm. “You need to get a job and start contributing. You’re not getting another dime from me, and you have exactly two weeks to find gainful employment, or you’re out.”
I didn’t meet her gaze as I started for the door.
“What the hell?” she barked at my back. “You’re not my mother.”
“No, but I am your landlord.” Normally, I would have backed down right away. I didn’t like confrontation. I was a people pleaser at heart. “Calling Mom for money doesn’t count either, and I will check. It’s time you became an adult, Lucy.”
I couldn’t believe I said it, but I felt immediately better once I had.
“I am trying to find a job,” she shot back. “I sent two résumés out to ranches last week.”
I turned back to study her. “That’s not trying to get a job,” I said. “That’s not even doing the bare minimum. Also, your future is not going to be on a ranch. You don’t even like animals.”
She balked. “I like animals … from a distance.”
“You don’t like cleaning up after them.”
“Well, nobody likes that.”
“On a ranch, that’s mostly what you do.” My backbone was remaining surprisingly firm. “I love you, Lucy. I can’t be your reason not to move forward with life, though. You’re old enough that you should be putting this partying mentality behind you.”
“You’re only saying that because you never had fun when you were my age.” Lucy went on the attack in an instant. “You were always so serious, so determined to make Mom proud. There’s more to life than constantly working.”
“I agree that there should be a work-life balance,” I replied. “You, however, don’t believe the work should actually play into your life. It’s time to get it together.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to kick me out. We both know it.”
“I am.” My stomach constricted when I said it because I didn’t know if I was telling the truth. Was I strong enough to kick her out? It was a toss-up at present. She didn’t need to know that, though. “I’m not doing this to be mean, no matter what you think.”
Lucy’s lower lip appeared and began to tremble.
I steeled myself to remain strong. “I’m doing this because if you don’t make an effort to gain control of your life now, you never will.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be you, Wylie,” she fired back. “Did you ever consider that? Nobody wants to be you.” She looked as if she wanted to take the words back as soon as they left her mouth. She didn’t, though.
“You don’t need to be me,” I replied, grateful that my voice didn’t crack as I pulled open the door.
“You just need to not be this any longer.” I gestured toward her club outfit, which included shorts that showed off the bottoms of her butt cheeks and a corset that was one shimmy away from a nip slip. “Do we understand each other?”
She didn’t say anything. She just stared.
“Two weeks,” I said as I walked through the door. “Then you’re on your own.”
I WAS STILL SHAKY FROM MY fight with Lucy when I arrived at the coffee shop. Huxley was already at a table, his tablet in front of him, and he grinned when he saw me. The smile didn’t last, though. He was on his feet in a second.
“What’s wrong?” He rushed to me.
How could he possibly know that something was wrong? I was holding it together relatively well. Wasn’t I?
When I didn’t answer, he brushed my hair away from my face, took a long look, and then dragged me to the table.
“I need a coffee,” I said dumbly. I had such a firm grip on my computer bag that my knuckles were white.
“I’ll get your coffee,” he said.
“You don’t even know what I like.”
He smirked. “You like sugar. That means a mocha. If it has caramel with it, so much the better.”
“I …” How could he remember that?
He broke out in a wide grin. “My mother used to comment on your ordering habits from coffee shops. She said that when she was young, she ordered the same way and then had to adjust when she got older to less flavorful coffees.”
He paused a beat. “The thing is, when I asked if you would start drinking coffee like an adult, she said you wouldn’t because you were freer than her,” he finally continued. “I assume that you still like your coffee sweet.”
All I could do was nod.
“Okay.” He stroked my hair back from my face. I didn’t think he even realized he was doing it. His gaze was seeking, but he didn’t push me. “Sit down. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I did as he instructed, but I was basically going through the motions. I got my tablet out of my bag and set it up with the smart keyboard. Then I retrieved my outline notebook and opened it to where I was in the story. By the time I finished that, Huxley was back with my drink.
“A caramel mocha with almond milk, as promised,” he said as he placed my drink in front of me.
I froze when reaching for it. “You remembered the almond milk?” How? How could he remember that?
He shrugged. “Back then, nobody was drinking almond milk but you. You said that it was healthier, but I knew you’d read that online and believed it was something you should do for your health, not that you wanted to do it.
I laughed then, and I laughed a little now when I remembered it.
I figured you wouldn’t have given up the almond milk no matter what. ”
“It’s fewer calories,” I said lamely.
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“One day I might.”
“You’re perfect the way you are.” He tapped the table to get me to look at him. “What happened? Why are you so upset? Did Chad show up at your place?” He looked suddenly furious. “I should have been more alert when I was walking you home. We need to call the police.”
That was a lot of questions to absorb in a short amount of time, but ultimately, I shook my head. “It’s not that.” I felt stupid now that I had to say it out loud, but I pushed forward anyway. “I told Lucy she had to get a job.”
His expression turned carefully neutral. “I see.”
“I know it’s not a big deal to you,” I said hurriedly. “I’m being as much of a baby as she is about the whole thing. It’s just, she said something.”
“What did she say? Also, did she kick you? Because, and I know this makes me sound petty, but I’m not afraid to call the cops on her either. She has a history of aggression.”
For some reason — and I would have to think on this hard later — the way he said it made me burst out laughing. I simply couldn’t help myself. “Is this still about the Kit Kat?” I asked as I straightened. I was feeling a little better.
“That was my candy bar. I was a teenager. Why would I steal a candy bar from her when I could afford my own?”
I shrugged. “She was four or five. I can’t even remember. You can’t negotiate with a kid that age. They’re little terrorists.”
“And what is Lucy now?” he asked. “Is she still a terrorist?”
I hesitated, then sighed. “I basically told her she has two weeks to get a job. It wasn’t just what you said last night,” I added hurriedly. “You gave me a push, but I’d already been thinking about it. She’s not a whole person.”
He sat in the chair next to me, rather than the one he’d been in when I first arrived. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been spoiled her whole life,” I explained. “I know I had it easy, too, but I like to think I wasn’t that spoiled. She just assumes that everything should be handed to her on a platter. The thing is, it always was.
“My mother paid for a nanny to travel with us, but the nanny was always instructed to give Lucy whatever she wanted to keep her quiet,” I continued. “Lucy didn’t get as much of my mother’s time as I did, but she got everything else. She would have benefited from the time more.”
Huxley nodded in understanding. Actually, if anybody could understand spending as much time on the road as we did as kids, it was him.
“It’s different, but my mother was big on giving me whatever I wanted, too,” he acknowledged. “We didn’t have a lot of money when I was really small, but once she started making money, she showed her love by spending it on me. It made me … less than a nice person.”
I shook my head. “You were always a good person.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and stared down at where we’d connected. “You don’t have to make excuses for me, Wylie. I know I was a jerk back then.”
“You were fine,” I protested.
He gave me a weary look. “Don’t you ever get tired of standing up for the kid who was so obnoxious to you that he made you cry?”
“I don’t remember that,” I said automatically. It was a lie, of course. I remembered crying. There was no need to dwell on it now, though. He’d been a kid. Teenagers were notoriously thoughtless.
“You don’t remember when you tried to perfect your own recipe for non-alcoholic Romulan Ale, and I told you to stop being an idiot?” he challenged. “Because let me tell you something, I remember that day, and I’ve been mad at myself since it happened.”
“You’ve been mad at yourself for 19 years?” I couldn’t wrap my head around that.