Authors: Tracy Sweeney
“It was actually Nate who convinced me to enroll,” I began, switching gears, thinking back to the day I ran into him. He was back from South Bend for the weekend, jogging down by the high school when I happened to drive by. I may have initially stopped because I wondered if he was still dating Megan, and if Megan was still in New York. I may also have been too much of an idiot to ask.
He was so happy to be playing football, and I was just so goddamn miserable. He called me on the change in my attitude right away, but I blamed it on work and the girl I was dating. I didn’t mention that the girl had just asked me to take her to a Green Day concert and I almost lost my shit.
Thank you, Jillian, for ruining Green Day for me.
The girl ended up thinking I was a jerk, and I really didn’t care enough to convince her otherwise. Being with Jillian seemed to have been the gift that kept on giving.
When the conversation switched to how much Nate loved Notre Dame, he thanked me for convincing him to talk to his dad about going there instead of FSU. I really hadn’t done anything but tell him not to let other people make decisions for him. Then he turned the tables on me, asking why I decided not to enroll myself. He started talking about a business class he had to take as a requirement, suggesting that I should look into what they have available at U-Dub. What started off as a Saturday class on small business management, turned into a Bachelors Degree. I owed Nate for that.
“Wow, he never said anything…that’s…that’s great, Luke. Really.”
And as if I needed something to make myself feel worse, she seemed so genuinely happy for me. How was it—even after all this time—I still said all the wrong things around her?
“We should probably get back,” I added, as the guilt continued to wash over me.
“Yeah,” she agreed softly. We walked quietly back to where the bar and refreshments were set up. The tour with Jillian had taken a lot longer than I had realized and the crowd had already thinned out. Danielle and Josh were standing by the bar with Megan and Nate. I had never been so grateful for the distraction.
“So, what did you think?” Danielle asked enthusiastically. “Did Jillian dazzle you with her knowledge of colors and textures?”
“You’ve got a great place here,” I replied, dodging the question. I didn’t want to dwell on what an ass I was. I wanted to change the subject. “Tell me. Have you ever worked on any restaurants or bars?”
“Well, last year I was hired by this small Irish pub that we go to because they wanted to bring in some authentic pieces directly from Ireland. I have some contacts over there and they made some calls. Long story short, the bar, the seating, even the wood flooring were all made in Killkenney and sent over to Seattle in pieces. We had everything reassembled and installed—one-hundred percent authentic. You should swing by and check it out. It’s called O’Malley’s.”
I almost choked when she mentioned the name. What were the odds?
“I know it well,” I replied. “I actually just bought the bar next door.”
The group erupted with gasps and congratulatory pats on the back. My eyes were trained on Jillian, though, who looked shocked. At least shock, I’d learned, was better than pity.
“Excuse me for a moment. I need to run to the ladies room,” she muttered, walking briskly through the crowd and out of sight.
“You bought The Rusted Nail?” Nate laughed, drawing my attention away from Jillian’s sudden retreat. “Dude, that place is a mess. Meg’s friend got food poisoning there a few months ago.”
“Yeah, that’s why it was up for sale,” I replied. “The health department closed them down, and the owner couldn’t afford to make the necessary improvements. Which is why I asked,” I added, looking to Danielle. “I could use some help with the remodel.”
“Oh my goodness!” she gasped. “Really? Do you have any ideas about style or theme?”
“The deal just finalized, but I have some rough sketches,” I added, leaving out that my sketches looked like a five-year old drew them.
“Oh!” she squealed, clasping her hands together. “We could head back to your place when we’re done here and I’ll show you some samples. Can I take some measurements this week? What’s your schedule like?”
My head began to spin with the barrage of questions. It was definitely reminiscent of the Danielle I remembered from high school, which made me wonder if I had made a big mistake.
“Slow down, baby, you don’t want Luke to change his mind before he actually hires you,” Josh interjected, rubbing her shoulders and calming her down.
“Oh, right,” she laughed nervously. “I’m just excited. Would you mind, though, if we stopped back at the bar? I just want to get some preliminary information from you so I can draw up a proposal.”
While I would have preferred to meet with her another time, I wanted to leave the party, and it was a good excuse. Instead of proving to Jillian that she passed up a good thing, I succeeded in proving I was a major dick. Not my finest hour.
“That’s fine,” I replied. “Are you cutting out of here soon?”
She looked down at her watch and scanned the dwindling crowd.
“Well, the clean-up crew is coming in at eleven-thirty. I can be by before last call.”
I agreed to meet her at the bar, saying goodnight collectively to the group. While I was relieved that Jillian hadn’t returned, I still felt strange taking off without saying anything. It was probably better that way. Nothing I said to her came out right.
On the drive back to the bar, I found myself feeling even worse about the way I’d acted. I let the way she looked at me turn me into someone I hardly recognized. I was proud of what I’d done—proud that I got my degree. Without it, I wouldn’t be where I was. It wasn’t something I should have hidden from them, but it wasn’t something I should have bragged about either. When it came down to it, it shouldn’t matter if I got my degree or if I was successful. I would’ve wanted her to stay even if I never accomplished any of those things. I would have wanted her to stay in spite of it.
“Hey boss,” Peter greeted me as I walked through the door. “What brings you in this fine evening?”
“Meeting a friend,” I replied, sitting down on one of the stools.
“Well, we had a pretty decent night. Dying down now,” he added. “Your lawyer dropped off some papers for you.”
I groaned, thinking about the packet of information he had left for me to sign. The paper-trail was never-ending. Danielle wouldn’t be arriving for another half-hour so I decided to look over the paperwork in my office while I waited.
Walking through the hall, I stopped to stare at the framed photos on the wall—photos put up by the guy who claimed he wasn’t pining.
Sure he wasn’t
. I hadn’t seen the cliffs in over ten years—not after the night Carter found me there, brooding about the girl that had left without saying goodbye. I had no desire to go there because all I’d see is her. So, the place Carter had taken me so many times to work out my anger only fueled my frustration.
We adopted a new routine. He’d call my cell or I’d call his and we’d meet midway between Reynolds and Seattle at a small diner past Tacoma called The Last Resort. The food was decent, the coffee was passable, but more importantly, no one paid attention to anything we did or said. It was as good as being alone.
And then there were the times I’d look up to find Carter sliding into a side booth in the corner of the bar. He’d drink his coffee and read the newspaper until I had some time to sit down and talk. Sometimes he’d stay all afternoon. Seeing him kept me grounded. Unfortunately, I was feeling anything but grounded after the evening I just had.
Once I sat down at my desk, I couldn’t concentrate on the paperwork the lawyer left for me. I organized some invoices and checked on a shipment that was due at the end of the week. When I still had some time to spare, I logged into Facebook since Danielle had been so adamant about me checking it regularly. I froze when I saw the alert—a Friend Request from Jillian.
I stared at the screen in disbelief. I honestly didn’t know what to make of that. I didn’t even know if it was rude to ignore one of these things. I only created a profile because Peter convinced me it would be good for the bar. But I barely checked my email. I really wasn’t interested in posting updates online for random people I never saw. The whole thing seemed weird to me.
I sat with my finger hovering above the enter key, debating whether or not to click accept. I was thinking about what pictures she might have posted and who could be in them when my office phone rang. I logged out of my email as I picked up the call coming from out front.
“What’s up, Pete?”
“Hey man, your friends are here,” he informed me. I could hear Danielle’s chatter in the background. As long as I kept Josh around, working with Danielle would be fine. He seemed to have a way of reeling her in and, truly, the girl
needed
to be reeled in. Poor Bastard must have learned some survival skills over the years.
I grabbed the plans for The Rusted Nail along with some of the rough sketches I had pulled together to remodel it into a restaurant. I was by no means an artist, but I had an idea of how I wanted the new place to look. As I passed by the pictures in the hall once again, I thought that maybe I should ask Danielle to do a little redecorating here as well. Maybe I didn’t need closure. Maybe I just needed a change.
Walking out of the hallway and into the bar, it wasn’t just Josh and Danielle I saw speaking to Peter, but Megan, Nate and Jillian, as well. I may not have wanted closure, but it seemed to keep looking for me.
“Hey, guys,” I said, pressing my lips into a smile. My face felt tight and contorted. I wondered if I looked as uncomfortable as Jillian had looked earlier. I probably looked worse.
“Luke, can I just tell you how very honored I am that you’re trusting me with this job. I’m so proud of you, and I want this new venture of yours to be the talk of the town,” Danielle said.
It was sweet of her to say. I knew her feelings were genuine, and if I weren’t so aware of the fact that Jillian was in the room, I might have been able to return the compliment without fumbling over my words. Instead I thanked her and motioned for them to follow me to a booth along the wall.
“Oh darn, I forgot my design book,” she exclaimed. “Jillian, sweetie, I think I may have left it in your car.”
“Why would it be in my car?” Jillian asked, sounding tired and confused.
“Remember I threw it in there when we were moving stuff over to the warehouse earlier today?”
She scrunched up her nose while she appeared to be thinking back to earlier in the day.
“I don’t remember seeing it. Maybe you took it out already.”
“Just to be sure, can I just grab your keys and take a quick peek? I may have shoved it under the seat.”
“I’ll go look,” Jillian offered, pulling her keys from her purse. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to go. If I could’ve gotten away with offering to look for it, I probably would have, too.
“No, no. I don’t want you walking across the street to the lot alone. Josh will come with me. Right, honey?” she replied, grinning up at the Poor Bastard.
Jillian handed her keys to Danielle, then looked over to Megan and shrugged. When she looked away, I watched as Nate and Megan exchanged curious looks. Megan leaned in to whisper something into his ear.
“I’ll be right back, Luke,” Danielle announced, as she and Josh breezed by me.
“I get the feeling Danielle still gets her way a lot,” I said to Nate.
“Dude, you have no idea,” he laughed. “But don’t let it fool you. Josh is the one calling the shots in that relationship. He’s probably the only one who she’ll listen to when she gets an idea in her head.”
“You’re telling me,” Meg muttered, shaking her head. Jillian looked at her questioningly, but Megan shrugged her off.
When Danielle and Josh came barreling back in, Danielle had a large leather portfolio in her hands and Josh had a number of smaller binders.
“I’m such a spaz,” she began, shaking her head.
“That’s old news,” Megan interjected.
“Stuff it, Meg,” she shot back. “What I meant was that it was in my car all along.”
“As interesting as fabric swatches and paint chips may be, Luke, we’re going to take off,” Megan began. “We just figured we’d pop in since the bar was on the way to Nate’s place. He has an early practice in the morning. See you girls for lunch tomorrow,” she added, giving them each quick hugs goodbye. “I’ll be at Nate’s tonight.”
“You, me and Fletcher are going out soon, hear me?” Nate said pointing at me as he headed to the door.
“As long as he keeps the top hat at home,” I replied. Josh shoved my shoulder as Danielle protested in the background.
“You looked good, baby,” she added, rubbing his arm. “Don’t listen to him.”
“He’s just jealous because Jillian didn’t pick out a tux with any flair.”
Jillian’s eyes widened at the mention of the prom, and she openly glared at Josh. Danielle smiled triumphantly, pleased with his response, before turning back to me.
“So, I want to leave these books with you, Luke. There are paint colors and swatches. I realize that it’s a little overwhelming, but I’d just like to get an idea of your style before I go forward.”
She thrust the heavy portfolio at me along with a number of glossy binders, and I handed her my sketches and the preliminary plans for the remodel.
“I know that a lot of guys aren’t into choosing color palates, but if you have a young lady in your life that you’d like to run these by…” she sang with a smirk.
I was about to tell her that I was perfectly capable of looking at some books about colors when Jillian abruptly bolted for the bathroom. This was becoming a recurring theme with her.
“God, look at the time, baby,” Danielle said suddenly, raising her wrist and checking her watch. “And I still need to head back to the showroom and make sure everything looks all right.”
“Why are you going there?” Josh replied, shaking his head. “I thought you said—”
“Honey, have you seen the work these so-called clean-up crews do? I have,” she said, answering her own question. “Luke, can you tell Jill that I’ll see her tomorrow for lunch? I really think we should go before it gets any later.”