Jumping Puddles (16 page)

Tonight, Zach and Blake will meet for the first time. I think I’m more nervous about that than anything else. Aubrey is going to be there with me, introducing me to people when Zach is busy. They’re working as a team to break me into the industry. I appreciate all the effort, but I’m starting to rethink my decision.

Not because Blake was right. I’m not changing who I am on the inside. My outside appearance, however, is another story.

Once I signed on with Zach, Aubrey whisked me away to the salon. My hair was cut, styled and colored. My fingernails and toenails were manicured. Hours after we arrived, I walked out with a bag full of products, looking like a different person. I like the look they gave me, it’s nice. I still don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror sometimes, though.

I step into my new black dress, careful to gently pull it over my hips without ripping it. It’s snug in all the right places according to Aubrey. She picked it out, of course, and made me buy a size smaller than I felt comfortable in. I have a shawl I plan to bring—and wear if I’m allowed—to help cover my assets.

As soon as the dress is zipped up, I slip into my heels, another thing I’m getting used to. I wear them every day, at least for a few hours, and practice walking in them. I’m getting better at it. It’s been almost a month since I’ve tripped on anything.

Aubrey should be here any minute to reapply my makeup and fix my hair. I took extra time on both tonight, but I have a feeling she will find flaws and have to “work her magic” so I’m presentable.

I close my bedroom door and take a look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back. I think I look really nice. Tugging my dress down as far as it will go, I remember the last time I told Aubrey I thought I looked nice. “Nice doesn’t cut it in this industry,” she said. That was promptly followed by excessive teasing of my hair and a full reapplication of my makeup.

I’ve tried to pick up some tips from her. Instead of getting upset with me, like she used to at first, she now explains what she’s doing to me and why: ‘I’m fixing your hair over here because… You have too much shading on your eyes which makes you look… This is a better color for your lips with that dress because…’

I’ve also learned which fashion magazines I should be reading as soon as they hit the shelves. This is a must, according to you-know-who. Damn! Aubrey can be such a bitch sometimes, especially when it comes to modeling. I can’t get past the feeling I’m her Barbie doll.

All that aside, she’s been an amazing friend. She was here all hours of the day every day after Blake left. She comforted me and got me out of the house to try and take my mind off of the breakup. She’s an amazing person with a huge heart. She makes me believe this industry won’t change me if I don’t allow it to.

It wasn’t until last week after I called Blake and invited him, I really started to open up to her. I was heartbroken all over again after talking to him. Hearing his voice almost sent me into a fit of tears on the spot. I was able to contain myself until he agreed to come. Aubrey found me an hour later, in a ball, crying on the couch.

We talked for hours. By the time the sun came up, my entire life story had been told. I told her about my parents. My aunt. Alice and Scott. How I met and fell in love with Blake. Every detail of our relationship. After all was said and done, Aubrey was left confused. The only thing I didn’t explain was about the money.

I live alone. My rent is more than Alice and Scott’s house payment. I don’t work, and I’m a foster kid. She couldn’t understand how that was all possible. I didn’t tell her everything, but I told her enough to explain the situation. I don’t like to talk about money, especially since I have so much. It either makes people jealous and hateful, or it makes me sound snobbish. Neither of which I like.

There’s a knock at the door, so I run to answer it. I’m about to open the door when I realize I just ran across my entire apartment, in heels, and I didn’t trip. I reward myself with a smile, opening the door so Aubrey can begin her standard assault of my appearance.

Not Aubrey.

“Zach,” I state, surprised to see him standing outside my door. “I thought Aubrey and I were going to meet you there.” He’s looking even more handsome than usual. In fact, every time I see him, he looks better and better. Today, though, he’s in a tux, and he looks delicious.

“Aubrey’s in her apartment, throwing up. She was supposed to tell you I was picking you both up, but it doesn’t sound like she ever made it down here. The exhibit sent a car for you girls,” he states, motioning to the black stretch limousine blocking my car in.

“In that?” I’m in awe, and he can hear it.

“Only the best for my girls. Well, tonight it’s just you and me, Charlotte.”

Still smiling, I excuse myself for a moment to grab my wrap and purse. When I return, Zach extends his elbow and I take hold of it as I close my door behind me. The driver opens the door for us, and I carefully get in, cautious not to bend over too far. Sliding over to make room for Zach, I take in the limos interior.

This, I could get used to.

THE GALA IS INTENSE.
I’m not used to being around so many people. Zach’s been leading me around the room, arm in arm, and introducing me to people. Thankfully, none of them have asked my opinion on the artwork hanging on the wall.

After a while, my feet begin to ache, so I excuse myself and head toward the front door. The limo is parked outside, and I plan to climb in for a moment to rest my feet. I should check in on Aubrey, too. I’m sure she’s upset she had to miss the event tonight. She’s been talking about it since we first found out.

As I’m searching for my phone in my purse, I run into a rock-hard chest. Without looking up, I apologize and move around the person.

“Where are you going, Charlie?”

My hand freezes inside my purse, my feet stopping dead in their tracks, and I close my eyes, his voice bringing me back to a time when we were happy together. When I feel his hand on my shoulder, I take a deep breath, open my eyes, and turn to face Blake. It’s the first time I’ve laid eyes on him in two months.

Avoiding eye contact, I smile and take in his suit. “You look so nice, Blake. Thanks for coming tonight.”

Pulling me into him, Blake wraps his arms around me and squeezes tightly. I go willingly, remembering the way our bodies fit together perfectly. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Thanks for the invite.”

Someone grumbles behind me and then clears their throat. We’re blocking the entrance, so I step to the side, Blake releasing me so we can move out of the way.

“You must be Zach,” Blake says, looking past me. I turn to find an irritated Zach, staring Blake down. “Charlotte has said a lot of nice things about you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet last time I was in town.”

Leave it to Blake to play nice. The undertones in his voice tell me he’s not as enthusiastic to meet Zach as he’s letting on. Zach will never be able to tell, though.

“And you are…” Letting his voice trail off, Zach steps up next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Blake. Charlotte’s—”

“Oh yes. The ex. She’s mentioned you before. I thought you two weren’t speaking,” Zach replies, directing his question to me instead of Blake.

“We’re still friends. I invited Blake tonight. He’s an artist, so I thought he might enjoy it. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Of course not. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

I can feel the tension in our little circle beginning to rise. Blake and Zach are staring each other down, doing the alpha-male, pissing on their property thing. The thing is, I’m no one’s property. I’m not involved with either of them. If Aubrey had her way, Zach and I would already be married. If I had my way, Blake and I would be back together. Neither of us is getting our way these days.

“Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, Blake,” Zach suggests.

Seriously? Zach is asking Blake to get drinks for everyone? What is his problem? He’s treating him like an outsider when he knows damn well Blake has worked in the industry before.

Flashing me a smile, Blake nods and walks toward the bar. Knowing he’s only going to be gone for a few minutes, I make quick work of what I have to do.

“What are you trying to accomplish, Zach? You know what Blake means to me. You don’t need to treat him like that. He’s only here because I invited him.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have invited him, then. From now on, run all your invites through me, please.”

“Why?” I ask. If my voice doesn’t convey the fact that I’m irritated, the fact that my hands are fisted on my hips should do the trick.

“Because this is work. I don’t want him interfering with it. I know he doesn’t approve of your decision, and I don't want him to come in here and try to change your mind. You’re a grown woman, Charlotte. You need to let him go. If you want to be his friend, fine, but I saw the way he was looking at you. It’s obvious that neither of you is ready to let the other go. That’s going to cause problems for you in this industry. I need you to trust me. This is for your career.”

When Blake returns, he engages Zach in small talk. The conversation is light. No one mentions our breakup or the fact Blake doesn’t approve of my decision. Zach asks Blake’s opinion on a few pieces of art as we move through the gallery. It’s almost starting to look like they might be able to get along.

I still don’t want to leave them alone together, but I have to use the bathroom, so I excuse myself, watching them over my shoulder until the door closes behind me. When I return, I don’t see them anywhere. I find Zach talking with one of the gallery owners I met earlier. Matt… Mark… Something like that. I’m pretty sure his name started with an M.

“Excuse us,” I say as I approach. Putting my hand on Zach’s arm, I gently pull him away from his conversation and around the corner were we can talk in private.

“That was awfully rude, Charlotte.”

Ignoring his comment, “I can’t find Blake. Do you know where he went?”

“He left.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say. We were talking, and then he said he had to go.”

That doesn’t sound like Blake. He would make it a point to say goodbye. I was only gone for a few minutes. He would have waited for me to get back. Our friendship isn’t that far gone. Not yet. It can still be repaired.

“I have to call him. Excuse me.”

Zach grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Let him go, Charlotte. If he wanted to be a part of your life, of this, he would still be here. Give him time. Maybe he’ll come around.”

I spend the rest of the evening with the front door in sight, praying Blake will walk back in. It never happens. By the end of the night, my disappointment has turned into anger and I stop caring about it all together. If there ever comes a time when Blake decides to be understanding and compromise, we can try to work things out. Until then, I need to focus on my career and let it go. If I keep holding onto it, onto him, I’ll never be able to move past things. That’s exactly what I need right now. To move on.

As the limo pulls up in front of my building, Zach pulls me in for a hug. I thank him for a wonderful evening, kissing him on the cheek. Before I’m able to pull out of his embrace, Zach has captured my lips with his. I don’t respond at first, my thoughts going to Blake. The anger. The frustration. The sadness and disappointment.

Kissing him back, I pour every emotion I have into it. I must be doing something right because Zach pulls me onto his lap, causing my dress to rip up the side as I straddle him. I feel the limo rock and then there’s a tap on the window. Pulling back, I open my eyes to find Zach is grinning at me deviously, a sparkle in his eye.

“Your place or mine?”

“Uh… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I mean… I’m not sure… I think we may have gotten carried away.” I crawl off his lap, doing the best I can to cover myself with the torn dress that barely covered me to begin with as I stutter out random words.

“Charlotte,” he replies, placing his hand over mine. “It’s fine. I didn’t plan on getting that carried away, but I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t enjoy it or I don’t want it to happen again. You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d be stupid not to notice. If you don’t want to invite me in, that’s fine. Maybe we can get together for dinner tomorrow instead.”

This feels wrong, but at the same time, it feels right. I enjoyed kissing Zach. Kissing is an art, and he’s mastered it. I may not be ready to invite him in, but I do have to eat, and it’s nice to eat with company.

“Dinner sounds nice. Why don’t I cook? Say, seven o’clock?”

“I’ll be here. Good night, Charlotte.”

Crawling out of the limo, I grab my purse and shuffle to the front door, the entire time pulling at the hem of my dress. I don’t let go until I’m safely inside with the door locked behind me.

Turning on the lights as I make my way to my bedroom, I replay the kiss over and over again in my mind. It may have been brief, but it was memorable. After changing into something comfortable, I call Aubrey to check in on her. She’s feeling better, so she’s coming down for a detailed play-by-play of tonight. Looking at the clock, it’s after midnight, but there was no way she was taking no for an answer.