The Anomaly (2 page)

We no longer talk amongst ourselves; we all zoom in on the birthday boy. I can tell that Nathan and David are good friends by the easiness of their interactions. Everyone seems familiar with one another, though I only recognize two people besides Wynter and David. One woman at the table attempts to flirt with Nathan, but he doesn’t flirt back. I’m used to men capitalizing on their good looks, but he acts as if he isn’t the catch of the day. And I’m pretty sure that women from New York to Missouri to Alaska throw themselves at him. Even I want to reel him in.

“Twenty-one’s my favorite number,” David tells us, adding that he’s thrilled he can now order a beer.

A few people at the table who are already twenty-one lift their glasses in salute, and then there’s talk about birthdays and getting older. I don’t have much to say. Getting older is like a curse in an industry where some of my friends in their early twenties are already getting Botox injections.
We all have a shelf life
.

“The years seem to roll into a ball as you get older,” Wynter says, locking her fingers to form a ball with her hands. “The milestones aren’t as pertinent as when you’re turning thirteen... then sixteen... then eighteen.”

Nathan shakes his head. “I get where you’re coming from. But to me”—he points at his chest—“every year’s pertinent, whether there’s a big celebration or not.”

I nod. “I agree.”

Nathan smiles at me. I feel as though there can be something there between us. I feel sparkly.

We eat, and the conversation shifts to sports and the Egyptian pyramids, because David traveled there a few months earlier, then to Wynter’s dog and an upcoming food festival. When the first person announces they have to go, others follow suit. Wynter asks me if I’m ready, and I nod. David thanks us all for making his night. As we make our way out, somehow Nathan and I end up walking side by side.

He touches my arm. “I’m guessing that you spent your childhood here.”

“Yes, I moved away right before high school.”

The cool night air greets us outside the restaurant, but Nathan stays by my side. “I’m not sure when the gang will meet up again, but I’d like to see you. Mind if I get your number?” There was humility in the way he asked me.

“Sure.”

“What is it?”

I look at him and wait, because he hasn’t taken out his phone.

He seems to read my thoughts. “I’ll remember it. I’ve got a good memory,” he says.

I arch an eyebrow. “Okay.” I recite it to him.

Then we all say our good-byes and head in different directions to our vehicles.

––––––––

A
couple of days later, Nathan calls and asks me to meet him at the Luodor Inn. I’ve never been there, though I’ve heard it’s a well-known tourist destination.

On the day of our date, I take more time than usual on my appearance. I blow-dry my hair an extra five minutes before wrapping the ends around flexi-rod rollers to give it some extra body. I decide to wear khaki Capris, a black ribbed tank top, and flat sandals, along with my favorite gold hoop earrings.

The Luodor Inn is larger than I expect. I’ve only seen it from a distance, passing by on the road, but up close, the building’s design is magnificent. It looks as though it could keep any visitor warm in Missouri’s chilly winter months.

When I drive up the semicircular driveway, the valet directs me toward the self-parking lot, and then I make my way to the entrance. Nathan’s sitting inside the lobby. When he sees me, he gets up and walks toward me. He flashes me a broad smile, and my palms feel clammy. I cross my arms, trying to steel myself against the intense desire I have for this guy. When Nathan’s two feet away from me, I uncross my arms so that I don’t seem closed off.

“Hey, Shayna.”

I hook a finger through one of the loops on my Capris. “Hi.”

There’s something about the way we look at each other. Like me, Nathan doesn’t blink.
He’s attracted to me.

When he scratches his shoulder, I notice his full height for the first time.
Wow
. He must be a good five inches taller than I am―a good thing if we end up going out again. I can wear heels around him. Though I don’t wear heels taller than three inches when I’m not working because they make me look like an ostrich, especially compared to other women.

“Let’s go outside. We’re going row boating.”

We move in unison outside toward the lake.
We’re walking in sync without even trying. This must be a sign!
I wave the thought away as silliness.

A middle-aged couple, a man wearing a bright yellow sunhat, and two female senior citizens are rowing on the lake when we get there. A sign lists boat rental prices. Nathan pays the young woman manning the area. Then she instructs us on how to properly use the boat and gives us life vests.

We row out into the water. Sunshine washes over us, and the wind cools us down. Birds chirp in the nearby trees, and a few ducks swim out past the rope that signals how far we can go.

He smiles back, and I feel warm inside. I wonder where I can find a row boat in New York City? I guess if I did more than work and go to school there, I’d know more. Then again, I’ve never been an outdoorsy girl. But here I am, with a hunk in my hometown, on a lake and loving it.

“I feel like this could be a great workout,” I say as I row. The oars aren’t too heavy, but I feel my muscles strain.

Nathan nods. “It is. I used to be on the rowing team in high school.”

A duck flies past us to the lawn by the inn, where a woman holds a bag. She throws what looks like bread crumbs.

“How long were you on the team?” I ask.

“From my freshmen to senior year,” Nathan says. “It was fun.”

“You ever thought of making it a career?” I chuckle, because I’m not even sure if rowing can be a profession.

“No.” He looks into the water. “What were you like in high school?”

I sigh. “I was a workaholic. I got decent grades, and I modeled on weekends and during the holidays.”

Nathan looks shocked at first. “You know, I’m not sure why I’m surprised. You’re beautiful.”

Because it’s coming from him, my cheeks get red. “Thanks.”

“You just seem so down-to-earth. I guess I’ve never pictured a model being so ‘normal.’”

“Well, I guess TV makes models seem like they don’t sleep at the end of the day like regular folks. But people are people.”

Nathan slaps his leg below his knee. “Pesky mosquito.”

I’m not sure if him alerting me to the insects makes me more aware of them, but I feel a sharp bite on my arm. I slap at the spot. “Ouch.”

“I’ve got to pick up some insect repellent.” Nathan swats at another mosquito. “Let’s just sit here for a bit.”

“Sure.” I let go of my oars. They’re fitted into two open spaces on the row boat.

“Are you still modeling?”

I nod. “Technically, yes, but I’m taking this summer off to get a change of scenery and spend some time with my dad.”

“I see.” Nathan touches the water with his fingertips. “David told me you lived here when you were younger.”

“I did.” I shrug.

Nathan nods. “Do you think you’d ever live here again, or is it too slow compared to The City That Never Sleeps?”

I laugh.

Nathan continues, “I’m asking because the people I know who’ve left for bigger cities rarely come back, my dad included.”

Nathan’s admission sends chills through me. “I’ve never really thought about moving back. I guess because my mom and sister live in New York also.”

“Right.” Nathan sighs. “My parents divorced when I was a kid, and I stayed here with my mom. Dad and I weren’t close after he moved away. My mom died during high school, so I moved in with my uncle. He was more like a father to me than my real one.”

“Is he your mom’s brother?” I lean toward Nathan. His willingness to be open with me makes me comfortable around him.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about your mom.” I want to ask him what she was like, but I decide against it. I was scared shitless when I found out my dad had prostate cancer, and I went through so many depressing emotions that I don’t want to push Nathan to tell me more than he’s comfortable with.
Maybe at some point down the road
.

Nathan nods and then sighs. “Uncle Tim, he’s great. He was my rowing coach. He still coaches the team.” He points at the oars. “My turn to row.” We switch places, and he picks up the oars. “The water’s great today. You want to continue?”

“Okay.”

We row around the lake. The water doesn’t remain as docile, but the shifting tides are gentle enough. We talk about some of Nathan’s experiences on the rowing team and about the year he worked as a dishwasher at the Luodor Inn. I tell him how scared and excited I was during my first year of modeling, when I tried out for the high school tennis team but didn’t make it, and what it was like being taller than the boys going through puberty in high school. Nathan is easy to talk to and charming.

When the hour Nathan paid for is almost up, we row back to shore. A new attendant’s posted by the sign. We give him our life vests and walk back toward the front of the inn. Nathan squints against the sun as two men approach us. One’s tall and skinny like a string bean; the other’s short and stocky.

“Well, look who I get to bump into today,” the shorter man says. He puts his hands into the pockets of his tropical-themed shorts and saunters a few steps closer.

Nathan stops walking, and so do I.

“Hey, Nathan,” says the tall man.

“Hi, Sam,” Nathan says.

“Introduce us to your friend,” says the shorter man.

Nathan introduces me to Sam and William.

“You haven’t returned my calls,” William says.

Nathan clenches his jaw. “I’ve already given you an answer.”

“Ahh... what’s the saying?” Williams bumps Sam’s forearm then sticks up his pointer finger as if he just had a light-bulb moment. “Everything is open for negotiation.”

Nathan moves so there’s more space between the men and us. He steps to the left, but William copies his movement.

“We can talk about it,” William says. “That painting has been in my family for years.”

“It’s mine now,” Nathan says.

I bite my bottom lip, wondering what in the world’s going on.

William grimaces, then his frown’s washed over with a smile. There’s something lopsided about his lips. The left corner seems to droop. “I suppose you’re right. You did buy it.”

“From his ex-wife,” Sam chimes in menacingly.

Dislike, I don’t know if toward Nathan or William’s ex-wife, seeps through his voice.

“She probably sold it to spite my buddy here.” Sam pats William on the chest.

“It doesn’t seem like anyone in your family knew about painting before, so I doubt it.” Nathan crosses his arms.

“You doubt it?” Sam says in a low voice before raising it. “How many times have you heard stories about a scum of an ex-wife wasting her ex-husband’s hard-earned dough? William’s woman is no different. It must’ve been easy for her to get rid of a piece worth thousands when she was already living it up with William’s money.”

I look away, becoming more and more uncomfortable. These men want this painting badly enough that it doesn’t matter to them when or where they confront Nathan.

Nathan remains cool. He shakes his head at Sam. “You’d really like me to
buy
that version of things?”

“No.” William leans forward.

I want to laugh, because he’s so short. Is he really trying to intimidate Nathan?

“I’d like you to
sell
,” William says. “But we live in a free world, and you have a right to say no.”

“Then I’d appreciate it if you don’t ask me again,” Nathan says with a hint of a growl.

William raises his hands as if in surrender. “Understood.”

“Let’s go, Shayna.” Nathan takes my sweaty hand. His is dry.

“It was nice to meet you, dear,” William says with a slow nod. The newsboy cap he’s wearing shades his eyes as he lowers his head.

Sam winks at me and smiles.

Nathan and I walk away. When we’re some distance away, I peek back to see if the men are watching us. They’re joking around, and Sam lightly punches William, who laughs, as they walk to the lake.

“What was that about?” I ask Nathan.

Nathan sighs. “A few weeks ago, I bought a useless but pretty painting at a garage sale. The painting cost me thirteen dollars. I thought it would be a nice piece to hang in my apartment, but it turns out that it’s worth plenty of money. Sam was low-balling. I’m sure both men know it isn’t worth just thousands.”

My eyes bulge out like saucers. “Wow!” I take a deep breath. “That’s awesome.”

Nathan sighs heavily, but a smile cracks through. “It is. But things are somewhat sketchy until I get it to where it needs to go.”

“So you
are
selling it?”

Nathan nods. “I want to.”

“Just not to William?”

He nods again.

“How did he find out you’d bought the painting anyway?”

Nathan doesn’t respond. He slows down but keeps holding my hand. His fingers remain steady, his grip neither tightening nor becoming lax. The silence makes me feel, for the first time today, as though we’re strangers. Nathan looks at me as if he’s a treasure hunter shifting through wet mud for bits of gold. Only it’s my character he’s trying to judge.

“Through coincidence―sort of.” Nathan shrugs.

His answer’s vague. And I decide it might be better if I don’t ask him my next question. “How much is this painting worth?”

D
ad and I talk in his garden. He’s planted an array of vegetables—heirloom tomatoes that are big and beautiful, squash, eggplant, lettuce, and watermelon. It’s been years since I’ve seen a home garden. Not many New Yorkers have the space to plant, or maybe they just don’t have the inclination or time. I’m thrilled to see vegetables growing in my
own
backyard.