The Good Life (9 page)

I intended for it to be a one-time-thing, and that was why I didn’t mention it to anyone. We didn’t really need our coworkers or families trying to interfere. But there’s something about having a secret with someone; it really turns me on. And even though I was still wounded, I needed to have some kind of fun, and he seemed the perfect candidate for a rebound summer fling. I’d known him forever, and I knew for certain he was a good guy and not a total douchebag. I knew my heart was safe with him. I figured if I was going to fall in love with him, I would have already done so sometime in the last fifteen years. That’s why I called him my “safety guy.” The whole point of a safety net was to catch you when you fell. I fell. He caught me. But he wasn’t going to let me fall any further, which was exactly what I needed that summer.

Jake and I were great together. He was so different from Jim. Jim was a tortured soul who suffered from un-medicated bipolar disorder and needed to be babied all the time. He loved to live dangerously, and I liked to take care of him. I liked feeling needed. Jim was also super jealous and loved dramatic fight scenes so it seemed we were always having make-up sex.

Compared to that disaster, Jake was a breath of fresh air. There was no drama or jealousy or arguing (unless it was done on purpose, because let’s face it – make up sex
is
pretty fun). We just liked being around each other. It was really that simple. And we didn’t need to fight to have good sex. Have you ever worked with someone who you were sleeping with? It’s like eight hours of foreplay. And with him living with my brother, and me living with my parents, we really had to get creative to spend time alone, and that put the hotness factor off the charts. We’d sit at the dining room table and have dinner with my parents just fifteen minutes after he’d had his head up my skirt in the garage, and all we could think about was when we’d be alone again. And while I said that first night was the hottest night, it got even better every time.
The Summer of Jake and Roxie –
it was the best summer of my life.

We both knew it was just a summer thing. I figured as soon as our families, friends and coworkers found out about us and we were no longer keeping a secret, things wouldn’t be as hot anymore. And once you took the hotness factor out of the equation, what would we have left besides something that would die a slow death in front of the TV and ruin a lifelong friendship? I didn’t want to stick around to find out and watch the best thing that ever happened to me turn into something bad. So even though I could have probably happily spent an entire lifetime in his bed, we cut things off cold turkey at the end of the summer. He said he didn’t think a long-distance relationship would work. I agreed with him. Then I went back to school, met Caleb a few months later and never looked back.

We didn’t leave things on bad terms or anything, but there was really no reason for us to keep in touch. I’d been back home to visit several times since then, but our paths just hadn’t crossed. I did invite him to my wedding because, like I said before, he was practically a member of the family. It would have been a lot weirder to
not
invite him. But he had other plans that night and couldn’t make it, which was a shame because I really would have liked him to be there. I looked for him the whole night, hoping he’d change his mind and show up. I don’t know why I cared so much. Maybe I was secretly hoping for him to run in all out of breath in typical rom-com style, tell me he loved me and hadn’t stopped thinking about me since last summer, and I shouldn’t marry Caleb. Or maybe it wasn’t a secret hope, but a very conscious one. Either way, it didn’t happen, and it was probably for the best because I might have told him I loved him, too, and ran into his arms and spent the rest of my life in fear of the day his teenage pregnant girlfriend would knock down our door. If anyone could hurt me more than Jim, it was Jake. And what a life that would have been, to be so happy, yet always looking over my shoulder and waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. Ugh.

“Roxie.”

The sound of his voice behind me caused a stir in my belly like someone had lit a stick of dynamite in there. Or make that
two
sticks of dynamite. One burned upward toward my heart, the other burned down. It’s funny how a sound can work like a time machine and take a person back to the past.

I stood in the kitchen next to the island, still holding my carry-on bag. He must have come inside the patio doors behind me. Though where he was coming from this early in the day I did not know. I probably didn’t want to know.

I figured I was as prepared for this moment as I’d ever be, and it was best to get it over with as soon as possible. I turned around.

There he was, no longer a punk kid in a baseball cap who looked like he might crush a beer can on his forehead, but a grown up. He had the Adam Levine stubble look going on, and his hair was shorter and no longer had that slept-in look. But there was still enough there for me to tangle my hands in – not that I had any reason to do that and not saying I wanted to – just saying I could.

He had on faded jeans and an un-tucked short-sleeve button-up shirt that hid all of his tattoos except the ones on his forearms. He had a fancy DSLR camera hanging from a thick strap around his neck. Is there something about a guy with a camera that is incredibly hot? And how about tattoos on the underside of the forearm? And how bad of a person was I to be thinking anything was hot just four hours after leaving my marital home?

Just because we hadn’t seen each other or spoken in years didn’t mean I hadn’t kept tabs on him. I was his Facebook friend so I did know a little about what went on in his life. I knew he was still tending bar part-time at The Bar. I knew the owner had tried to make him manager several times but Jake didn’t want to give his whole life to the place because he needed time to pursue a career in photography. He had established a pretty successful company over the last few years doing every kind of portraits imaginable … except weddings. Adam told me it was because he didn’t have the patience for that Bridezilla behavior, and who could blame him? Even the nicest girls turn into some crazy ass bitches on their wedding days. By the way, I know everyone who can afford a good camera is now starting a photography business these days, but let me be clear about one thing – he is legit. His pictures have been published in magazines and websites, and his business page on Facebook has over 3000 fans.

He stood there, his face expressionless. Not angry, not happy, not bored – a complete poker face. I had a feeling he was waiting to see how I would play this. My intention had been to wait on
him
to make the first move. But somebody was going to have to show their cards before this standoff became uncomfortable for both of us.

What’s it gonna be?
I could give him a casual shrug of the shoulder and an “Oh, hi. I forgot you lived here.” I could go one step further into idiocy and say, “Oh, hi. Jake, right?” I could give him the cold shoulder and make sure he never went out of his way to speak to me again. Or, instead of playing games and worrying about what he was thinking, I could do what I’d normally do when I ran into an old friend who had at one time meant a lot to me. I could smile and be happy to see him. So I did.

“Jake! It’s so good to see you!” I said. And I meant it.

He smiled back at me and looked relieved. Wow, that smile, it had gotten better with age. I almost fell right there onto the kitchen floor.

“Roxie,” he said again. “How are ya, Little Girl?” He’d been calling me that since I was actually a little girl. I hadn’t heard him say it in so many years I’d forgotten all about it.

“Um, okay,” I said. What a brilliant conversationalist I was! Of all the things he could possibly say to me, “
How are you?”
was on top of the list. I’d been on a plane for two hours imagining this very moment, and I thought I had written a line for every comment he could possibly make, but for some reason, the answer to a simple “
How are you?”
had slipped through the cracks. I was definitely losing my touch. I would never make it in Hollywood.

He took his camera off his neck and set it on the kitchen island – the same kitchen island we’d had sex on one night after work while my parents were sleeping upstairs. I wondered if he ever thought about that night when he was in the kitchen, or if he even remembered. Probably not. I doubted I had made the kind of impact that would have him remembering any part of that summer after all this time. To him, I was just another girl.

“From what I hear it’s probably for the best,” he said. There was a softness to his voice that sounded empathetic. Sympathy would have been humiliating. Smugness would have been aggravating. But empathy I would take.

“I just came by to change before work,” he explained. “I have to work open to close today at The Bar. I usually only go in on Friday and Saturday nights, but they’ve got someone down with mono so I’ll be filling in all week.”

I smiled and nodded. The smile and nod. Works in almost every situation. Except when you’re being interrogated by the police and they ask if you’re guilty.

“I know you don’t have a car here so if you ever need to use my Jeep you can just drop me off at work. And don’t go looking for a car without me, okay? I’ll come with you to make sure you don’t get screwed over.”

That was nice. Some women would have been insulted and gone on a feministic rant over the last comment. But he was right. If anyone was going to be screwed over by a used car salesman, it was me.

“Wow, thanks so much,” I said. “That’s so nice of you.” Like totally. Oh Em Gee, I sounded like some bimbo on an eighties sitcom! What a disgrace.

“Do you need it tonight?” he asked. “We don’t usually keep a lot of groceries around. Adam is hardly ever here, and he eats most of his meals at the cafeteria.” He ran his fingers through his hair – a habit I knew meant he was nervous. “I picked up some mac-n-cheese and Cinnamon Toast Crunch last night. I don’t know if you still like them, but I wanted to make sure you had something to eat if you were here without a car.”

There goes that stick of dynamite making my heart burn. Cinnamon Toast Crunch was not only my favorite cereal but my favorite food period. I didn’t pause to think about it. I didn’t mentally go over any and all possible results of my actions. I just did it. I hugged him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my cheek against his chest and breathed in his familiar smell that was like a mixture of dryer sheets and Tide.

“I still love them,” I said about the foods he’d picked out for me.

He clearly didn’t have any dynamite in his chest because he kind of held his arms out in front of him like he didn’t want to touch me and then patted me on top my head.

I pulled away, embarrassed, and mentally scolded myself for acting before thinking. “Thanks,” I said, “but I’ll be fine. I’m having dinner at Allison’s tonight.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go change and then head out. I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t my best and brightest moment, but I was glad it was over.

I walked upstairs to the spare bedroom – the bedroom that had been mine for the first twenty-two years of my life – and found it completely empty. That was fine with me. I liked a fresh, clean start. I had ordered a bedroom set online over the weekend that would be delivered this afternoon sometime between noon and four.

I peeked through the blinds at the pool in the backyard. It looked so welcoming. Too bad I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit in my carry-on. I remembered the Good Life List then and pulled it out of my handbag to review my quests. Skinny-dipping in your own pool was not on the list but nude sunbathing was. Maybe I should go ahead and work on my tan
and
the GLL. I looked at my Blackberry to check the time. It was 11:10. I had fifty minutes before the earliest my furniture would arrive. Those people never showed up in the beginning of the time slot anyway.

I stripped, wrapped myself up in a towel I found in the linen closet and headed downstairs quickly. I knew I needed to hurry before I lost my nerve. There was a privacy fence in the backyard so the only way anyone could see me would be if a neighbor was looking out of an upstairs window, and I figured that was probably unlikely. The kids were at school this time of day and the adults were at work.

I sunbathed in the nude! I did fifteen minutes on my back and fifteen minutes on my belly. I had carried my sundress down with me in case of emergency and kept it within arm’s reach at all times, but I never even reached for it. I felt really proud of myself. Proud and hot! It felt like it was at least ninety degrees out – (Yes, it does get hot in Michigan.).

I checked the time on my phone again. I figured I still had time for a quick swim to cool off. Since the pool was only two steps from my chair I stood up and jumped in. And, in case you were wondering, it felt great! I’d been here less than two hours and already crossed off one quest on the GLL. This was going to be the best summer ever!

I laid back and floated in the pool with my hands behind my head, smugly. Roxie Golightly, living the good life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Hello? Anybody home?”

I was startled by the sound of a man’s voice coming from the front of the house. I jumped up and covered my chest with my hands. Before I could decide on my next move I heard a knock on the back gate.

“Roxie?” the man called out. “Are you back here?”

In my head it seemed to happen in slow motion. First, I looked toward my chair and saw that neither my towel nor my sundress were within my reach. Then I looked at both of the pool’s exits: one, an attached metal ladder in the deep end and two, the cemented steps in the shallow end. I knew there was no way to get out of the pool via either of those exits without showing
something
.

A man’s head peeked over the top of the fence and I crouched low in the water.

“Roxie? Is that you?”

Shit! He saw me. What the hell do I do now?