“Wow, you’ve got friends in high places.”
I end up chatting amicably with Trent. I find out that he does business with Emmett—he supplies some of the restaurant’s produce—and I decide with a bit of regret that he’s sweet and honest, and it’s a shame that last night hadn’t gone very far. Why can’t you get your feelings where you want them? Why do I sit here and talk to Trent, all the while feeling the ache in my chest after Tahoe denied me?
*
I have to work at the department store that afternoon. Sundays aren’t my rest days, usually Mondays or Tuesdays are, when sales are slower. It still boggles my mind how expensive everything we sell is. We cater to the rich of Chicago. The store is pristine and never really packed unless we have our yearly sale, which draws everyone in, if only to peek at our perfect holiday window displays and array of fashionable items. Black Friday and Christmas sales are still a month or two away and there are only so many people I can sell cosmetics to. I’m worrying about my living situation and wonder if I should a) put an ad on Craigslist for a roommate, or b) move.
The thought of moving doesn’t thrill me, but the thought of having a strange roommate thrills me even less. I’m twenty-three, going on twenty-four, and I’m too old to live with a roommate.
My boss, Martha, calls me over. “Gina, let’s organize this, I don’t like seeing Pink Ecstasy on the Orange Flame holder.”
Martha always makes sure the store is impeccable. I like working here because being with beautiful people, dressed well, makes me happy. Nobody is crying inside this store. Nobody is struggling inside this store. Everyone is blessed and leaves with huge smiles on their faces, and leaves us with one too. Everyone says thank you and that’s that. I even have some regulars. So when I get a visit from Mrs. Darynda Kessler, telling me she has no time for me to do her makeup but she wishes I were available later, just before her big event, I seize the opportunity to expand my services.
“I would be happy to go to your place and do your face.”
“That would be a dream! Nobody knows my face better than you. How’s tonight at seven?”
“I get out at six, so seven works.”
I’m relieved to have extra work. It’ll keep my mind off…last night. And it’ll help me pay my rent until my lease is up and I have to move. I write down her address and tell her I’ll be there when my shift is over.
*
It isn’t until I’m on my way to Darynda’s place that I recognize the address. She lives in the exact same building Tahoe does. I can’t help but feel a little bit nervous as I walk into the lobby. I’ve been here before, with Rachel and Wynn. Never alone. All I remember of his apartment is that it was too big for just one person. And somehow when I think of him, I always imagine him on the living room couch where I last saw him, watching a White Sox game with a White Sox cap and a White Sox shirt.
I board the elevator and press Mrs. Kessler’s floor when I’m joined by two girls, both of them young and beautiful, who tell the elevator man who stands discreetly by the corner that they are going to HIS floor. He nods and slips in an access card.
“I could just die,” one tells the other as the doors shut.
“God, I know. Is my hair okay?”
“Your hair is great. How about my makeup?”
I try not to judge her by her makeup, but it’s hard not to when she’s overdone her eyes so much. I shouldn’t judge her. Our makeup is our mask. Good makeup can hide tired eyes, even sad eyes; nobody will ever know. Still, she looks beautiful, and I have to fight to keep myself from thinking this is why he turned down your birthday present.
My floor comes first, and they’re still fixing their hair with the excitement of women who know they’re seeing a very hot man whom they clearly want to see again and again.
I remember the last time I was in his apartment.
We were watching the White Sox game.
He’s one of the most devoted fans I’ve ever seen. He was rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans as he watched the game, yelling at the top of his lungs when they won. I laughed because it was funny, and then he looked at me and smirked. And then…he started to look at me the way he’d been looking at the TV, intensely.
Saint and Rachel left, Wynn gave me the eye signal that we should leave too. Tahoe made some signal to Callan, and soon Callan was striking up a conversation with Wynn, and Tahoe asked if he could show me something.
He led me to a massive room with all kinds of sports memorabilia.
“Wow.”
Signed balls from the White Sox filled one shelf, while lacrosse gear spanned the opposite wall.
“You’re a lacrosse fan?”
“I played in high school, college. I still play twice a month.”
The blond beast was entirely too focused on me. He was killing me with that damn dimple.
“I’ve never watched lacrosse, not really.”
“You should come to a game.”
God, that dimple.