Save Me (The Me Novellas) (9 page)

Dylan surveyed our work later that night. “Looks awesome.”

I had the bedroom window open to help clear the paint fumes. The breeze was cool, almost cold. We were under a frost warning that night. It was hard to believe I’d submerged myself in a lake just a few days earlier. But that was Minnesota for you.

“
Thanks.” I glanced up from my books. I motioned him inside and he sat on my bed, the edge of it this time, like he wasn’t preparing to stay. “What are you up to tonight?”

“
Eh. Working on a paper.”

I remembered Meg saying he was a grad student at the U. “Masters degree, right? What for?”

“
Social work,” he said.

“
Really?” I’d thought that was a female-dominated field.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

I was curious. “How’d you settle on that?”

“
I spent some time volunteering downtown. Social service stuff. Fell in love with the kids, with the families who came through the door. There are people who abuse the system for sure, but the number of people who are genuinely in need?” He shook his head. “It would blow your mind.”

The most volunteer work I’d ever done was run a bake sale at my high school.

“
And the social workers,” he continued. “Hardest working people I’ve ever met. Period.”

“
And that’s what you want to do?” I asked. “Work hard?”

“
No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t mind hard work but that’s not why I chose that field. I want a job that makes a difference. I want to help people.”

I thought about that. I’d chosen my major because I was good at English. Period. And I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

“
What about you?” he asked me.

Hmm. Did I admit to him what I’d just said to myself?

“
English,” I said. “Because I didn’t know what else to do.”

Dylan grinned. “Hey, that was my undergrad degree.”

“
It was?”

He nodded. “Yep. Got my BA at St. Cloud State.”

I smiled. For some goofy reason, I liked that we shared that.

“
So, how did you end up at The Ale House?”

“
Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “But the U is kinda expensive.”

“
Uh. Yeah.” My parents had no qualms about groaning over my tuition bills.

“
And bar tending pays well. Really well.”

Too bad I hadn’t thought to get into bar tending. I was pretty sure it paid more than my gig at the bookstore.

My phone buzzed then. A text from Dani.

CALL ME!!

“
My friend,” I said, picking up the phone.

He stood up. “Call her. I need to hit the books. Let me know if you need a study partner. I’ll be up.”

I waited until he left before I called her.

“
Hey,” I said. “How’s the festival?”

“
Oh my God!” she squealed, her voice bursting with excitement. “You’ll never guess! Not in a million years!”

“
What?” Ron repaired a record number of midget bikes that night? He’d gone more than three hours without visiting the bathroom?

“
I’m getting married!!”

ELEVEN

I met Dani on Monday, between my morning American Novel class and my shift at the bookstore. We hugged and slid into our regular booth at Panera and Dani showed me her ring.

“
Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked, her hand thrust out in front of her.

I studied it. It was. A princess-cut diamond set in a band of white gold. It was delicate and radiant and beautiful. Just like Dani.

I had to admit, Ron had done good.

“
Wow,” I said, holding her ring finger in my hand. “That is a knockout.”

“
I know!” Dani beamed. I’d never seen her look so beautiful or so happy. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes sparkled. She looked deliriously in love—with the ring and with her fiance.

“
When’s the big day?” I asked. I’d ordered a blueberry muffin and was picking at it with my fingers.

“
I think December,” she said, her voice dreamy. “I’ve always wanted a holiday wedding. The snow, the white Christmas lights, the holly.” Her eyes misted over and I knew she was already transporting herself there.

She refocused her attention on me. “And you’ll be my maid of honor, right?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

She nodded, satisfied. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d want standing up there with me. Not only are you my best friend but you’re the kind of person who would tell me if my lipstick was smeared or if my eyeliner was running. You know?” Her eyes bored into me, confident. “You always tell the truth. Period.”

It was like she knew.

Hell, I reminded myself. Come clean now or I was definitely on the road to warmer climates.

“
Dani,” I began. “I sort of need to tell you something.”

“
OK.” She waited expectantly, a smile on her face. And I realized I was wrong. She had no idea I’d lied to her.

She was so sweet, so trusting. And I’d been a horrible friend for lying to her.

“
You know the house I moved into?”

“
Yes.” Her expression clouded. “Oh, no. Is it not working out?”

“
No, no,” I said, waving my hand. “It’s not that.”

“
Good.”

“
No
…
” I hesitated. “But remember what I told you? About the roommates?”

“
Yes. Some girl from one of your classes, right?”

“
Right. But wrong.”

“
What?”

I sighed. “I lied. I
…
I answered an ad on Craig’s List. For a roommate.”

She cocked her head. “What? Why?”

“
I dunno,” I said. “The rat. The snake. It just freaked me out.”

She was silent as she stared into her full cup of coffee. She hadn’t even managed a single sip this time. “Oh.” Her voice sounded small. Hurt.

“
I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”

“
You don’t like animals?”

“
No, I do,” I said. “I just like them in cages. Or in zoos. With bars surrounding them. To protect me.”

“
They’re harmless,” she said.

“
But they freak me out. And I know I should’ve told you. Just come clean. But I freaked and I left and the roommate thing just sort of happened. And I’m sorry.”

She brought the mug to her lips and took a long swallow, cringing as the liquid pooled in her mouth. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t know they scared you so much. I probably should have told you before you moved in. You know, made sure you were aware of them.”

“
Do
not
apologize,” I said. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the world’s worst best friend here.”

She smiled and I breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t angry. A little hurt, but that was to be expected. The important thing was that she was still my best friend.

“
No, you’re not,” she said. “But you will be if you don’t fill me on in who you’re really living with. Is it a brothel?”

I laughed. God, did I love that girl.

I told her about the roommates. About Meg the artist who was in all likelihood the best chef on the planet. About Andy, the dreamboat property manager with the to-die-for brown eyes who was absolutely off-limits. And about Dylan, the bartender from Ben’s restaurant. I didn’t mention his similarities in looks to his cousin.

“
Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “What are the chances of that?”

“
I know. Ben was pretty pissed when he saw him there.”

“
Why would he care?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But he was. Totally snapped at him.”

“
Hmm.” Dani thought for a minute. “Maybe he wants to get back together?”

“
Maybe.” I’d thought the same thing.

“
Don’t do it,” she warned. “You deserve better. Someone like Ron.”

I sincerely hoped I would find someone better than Ron. But then I stopped myself. For all of his faults—the greasy smile, the bathroom issues, the penchant for horrific pets—he was good to my best friend. And he loved her. He loved her enough to want to marry her.

“
Yes,” I said. “Someone like Ron.”

“
You’ll help me plan the wedding, right?” she asked. “I have two years of Bride magazines to go through.”

I nodded. “Yes. I’ll help plan the wedding.”

“
And no more lies?”

“
No more lies. I promise.”

Dani smiled. “Good. Because I really don’t want to have to worry about ruined eyeliner when I’m walking down the aisle.”

“
You won’t,” I said. “You won’t have to worry about anything. I promise.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about anything, either, Kat. A new place to live, graduating and a full-time job at the bookstore. All we need for you is a guy. Then everything will have fallen into place.”

I didn’t know about the guy situation, but she was right about one thing. Things absolutely were falling into place.

TWELVE

“
You’re letting me go?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I’d heard Carl correctly.

He nodded, his expression contrite. “I’m sorry. I don’t really have a choice.”

We were in the back of the bookstore and I was getting ready to clock in for my afternoon shift. It was a short one—just a couple of hours—and I was a few minutes early. I’d stood by the boxes of new books, thumbing through some new romance releases. They were due out on the shelves the next day, but Carl didn’t mind if I took a sneak peek.

“
But
…
” my voice trailed off. “But why? How?”

Carl sat at the desk in the back, a mess of catalogs spread out before him. “I’m trying to expand the business, spend more time buying.”

“
I know,” I said. “I thought you’d need more help on the sales floor, not less.”

“
Oh, I do,” he agreed. “I need a lot more help.”

“
And I’m free,” I said. “Is this a question of availability? I’ll be done with school in two weeks. If you can just bear with me until then, my schedule totally opens up. I can work whenever you need me.”

“
No, it’s not that,” he said. “I already have someone lined up to take the hours.”

His words stung. Who had he chosen on the staff before me? I had the most seniority; hell, as an English major, I read the most books of the three other girls on staff.

“
Who?” I asked, stiffening.

“
My mother.”

I stared at him. “Your what?”

He gathered the catalogs and attempted to straighten them into a respectable stack.

“
My mother,” he said. “She lives in Florida but she’s moving home. To help. It’s economics, really. I don’t have a lot of money to pay and she’s not looking for a huge salary.”

“
Oh,” was all I could manage. The bottom had just dropped from under me.

“
I’m sorry to do this to you, Katie,” he said and I could tell from his voice that he was sincere. “But my mom is really excited to help out. She’s been retired for a few years—she taught public school—and she moved to Florida. Thought she was going to enjoy the sun and golf and Bunco and all that, but she just felt like something was missing. Anyway, she went to this conference the other day and there were all these senior citizens
doing
things. Really doing things.”

I snapped my head back toward him. “ A what?”

He nodded. “A SPAM conference, I think.”

“
A
meat
conference?”

“
No, it’s an acronym.” He thought for a minute. “Seniors Promoting Active Minds. Active something. Anyway, the guy who started it is from Minnesota. Pretty clever, using Spam, right?”

I just stared at him.

“
She called me last week, all excited. Said there were all these people her age who were doing things. Big things. A band playing music, even some woman who got up and belly danced.”