The Lessons (17 page)

Natalie

I heard a door slam, and I woke up with a jolt.

My eyes flew open, and I immediately knew I wasn’t in my house. I’d fallen asleep with my contacts in and my eyes felt dry and gluey. I blinked a few times, trying to moisten them as I took stock of my surroundings. I was in a bright and airy bedroom with wood floors, an oriental rug, and a vast bookcase that ran the full length of one wall.

Despite the cozy surroundings, I immediately feared the worst. Had I gone home with someone from the club? Last night was very hazy. I remembered tequila at Bar 415 with Paulina, then the club, then more tequila…

Oh God, the tequila. My head was pounding. What time was it? I looked around for my bag. It was on the nightstand, along with a bottle of Advil, a glass of water and a note.

You passed out and I didn’t have your address, so I brought you here.

I had to go to work. Take these and take all the time you need.

There’s food in the fridge. I’ll be back in a few hours.

Ryan

Ryan. Ryan Andrews. I was at Ryan Andrew’s house. Suddenly last night came crashing back to me. The phone call. A motorcycle. Shit, he had picked me up on his motorcycle? I certainly didn’t remember that. I wasn’t sure if I should be angry or grateful that he’d picked me up, but I still couldn’t figure out why he’d come and got me. I was doing just fine with Paulina.

Shit, Paulina!

Had I left her at the club to fend for herself? Oh, she was going to be pissed. I grabbed my phone, expecting to see a barrage of concerned text messages from my hard partying friend.

Nothing.

Huh.

Oh, well, maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a ride home. She had been dancing hard with some guy with a shaved head last time I saw her. I put the phone down.

My head still pounding, I took a couple of Advil from the bottle. I drank the entire glass of water and then got up to refill it in the bathroom sink.

In the bathroom, I caught a reflection of myself. I was not a pretty sight. I must have changed, because I was wearing a large men’s t-shirt with only my panties. Mascara was smeared over both cheeks, my hair was a matted mess, and drool was caked against the side of my mouth. I prayed Ryan hadn’t looked at me too closely before he left. It was not a good look.

Since I was on administrative leave, I had all the time in the world to get ready. I padded into the kitchen, helping myself to some orange juice before scurrying back to the bedroom. Ryan was gone, and I was going to snoop.

Once back, I confirmed that it was in fact his bedroom. How did I know? Because the giant bookshelf had a whole section dedicated to fucking historical fiction.

Gag.

Lucky for him, he also had a section for biographies and the classics. I love biographies almost as much as mysteries.

He got points for that.

The bottom row of his shelves weren’t taken up with books. Instead, milk crates full of records were stacked end to end. I thumbed through them— mostly rock, metal, alternative. But get this, the next three crates were all Motown!

Martha and the Vandellas. Stevie Wonder. The Spinners.

The fucking Spinners!

More points. I took out the record and looked around. No player. Then I remembered the music in the living room the other night and ran back out to play the record.

As the needle dropped, the whole room was filled with a rich, warm sound as "Just Can't Get You Out of My Mind" started to play.

I wandered around the room as the record played, continuing my snooping. One of the shelves in the living room had a couple of trophies on it. I reached over to pick one up. It was a soccer trophy but had a thick layer of dust on it, so I ran a finger over the nameplate. State Championship - Ryan Andrews. Huh. Soccer. My mind went back to what he’d said in the elevator—about leaving his soccer shoes on the living room rug, and what his dad had done to him.

I frowned and put the trophy back on the shelf and scanned the mantle. There were only photos of him and his sister. No mother, no father. I guess most people would probably find it sad, knowing his story and all, but that wasn’t my reaction. Instead, it felt familiar. Familiar and … kind of normal. It sounded kind of funny to say, but the fact of the matter was that if I had met Ryan under other circumstances, we could’ve been a great match.

I mean, come on, The Spinners? I could be persuaded to forgive the historical fiction.

Too bad any ‘we’ was impossible.

I had picked up one of the photos and was studying it more closely when one song ended, and I heard my phone ringing from the bedroom. I put the photo down and ran back to the bedroom quickly, thinking it was probably Ryan, calling to check in on me.

It wasn’t. It was Cathy, my boss. I couldn’t bear talking to her in my hungover state, so I sent the call to voicemail. Crawling back into bed I pulled the covers over my head, and pressed my face against Ryan’s pillow. It smelled faintly of him and I inhaled deeply, quickly falling back asleep to the faint sounds of R&B.

I awoke a short time later, to the sound of my phone buzzing again. This time it was a text message from Brad.

Call me when you get this

Huh. So
now
he wanted to talk to me. I sat up against the headboard and debated calling him back, but finally curiosity got the best of me and I dialed his number.

“Natalie?” he answered.

“Hey,” I said, my voice still husky from the night before.

“Are you okay? You sound strange.”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, no, I’m fine. Sorry. What’s up?”

“Natalie, have you talked to Cathy yet?”

Great,
I thought sarcastically. Work stuff. Was it too much to want him to call me up to apologize for being a jerk and to profess his adoration for me? Apparently.

“No. I just saw that she called,” I lied.

“I stayed late at work with Doug last night trying to figure out, well, you know—the photos.”

Ugh. Bringing up the photos was just adding insult to my hangover injury. Wonderful.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Nat, you’ll never believe this.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “It was fucking Paulina!”

Time slowed down as I mulled over what he said. Paulina? What? Paulina wouldn’t do something like this. She was my—she was my
friend
. I didn’t—that didn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about? Are you sure? Wait—”

“Oh, we’re sure. One-hundred percent. We have her on security cameras coming in early that morning, and then the images were sent via her IP address.”

I shut my eyes and contemplated what he was saying for a few seconds. I still didn’t understand. “Wait, but what about the photos? I mean, they weren’t me, you know that right?”

“Right. We found the originals backed up on the server. She used her company Photoshop license to doctor them.”

“No way.”

“Yep. She’s in big trouble. Huge. Honestly, I’d be surprised if they didn’t fire her. She’s in talking with HR and her boss right now.”

I exhaled. “I don’t understand.” Then suddenly things started to make sense. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“I bet you anything she’s the one who’s been stealing my stuff…” I muttered to myself.

“Stealing your stuff? What?”

“I thought I was going crazy.”

“What are you talking about, Nat?”

“I kept losing stuff— nothing huge, just my printouts, my notebook. Usually right before meetings, too. I bet she was fucking taking everything,” I paused, “what the hell, why would someone do that?”

He was silent for a second. “I don’t know. I mean, I knew she wanted your job. Maybe jealousy got the best of her? I mean, Cathy really, really likes you.”

It took me a moment to process what he was saying. I was still pretty stuck on the fact that Paulina had tried to fuck me over. “You think? I mean, that Cathy likes me?”

“Heck yeah. Everyone does.”

I felt marginally better, although I was still in shock. Maybe this female friend thing was overrated. “I can’t believe Paulina would do something like that.”

“Welcome to the real world, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Well anyway, look, Nat, I owe you an apology. I’m really sorry I weirded out on you. I guess—I mean, I guess I’m just used to being the man-whore in a relationship. Seeing those photos, and then what Ryan told me… it was just information overload and I freaked out. Listen, I’m sorry I doubted you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say so I nodded, even though he couldn’t really see it over the phone.

“Natalie, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

His tone was apologetic, and I wondered what possible other blow I was about to suffer.

“I’ve been offered a position at MM Social, and I accepted. They just announced it this morning. I know you weren’t at work, and I wanted to make sure you heard it from me.”

MM Social? “Isn’t that in L.A.?”

“Yeah. I’ll be moving in two weeks.”

I located my water glass and took a sip, my mouth suddenly all cotton. “Wow. That’s really fast.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” I started.

“Natalie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between the two of us. It’s too bad. We could have been good.”

I exhaled. “Thanks Brad. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“If you ever find yourself in L.A.—”

“I’m going to see you at work soon, though, right?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Cathy wants you back ASAP. Something about a presentation?”

I groaned. “Back to the grind. Well, I’ll call her back later. I’m kind of enjoying this administrative leave, you know, now that you’ve valiantly restored my reputation and all.”

“Ha, good. Make her wait for it. You practically own that department anyway. Enjoy the rest of your day off. Do something nice and girlie for yourself.”

“Like buy a strawberry frappe?” I quipped. My sense of humor was back, now that I knew my life was no longer over. I heard the front door open, and I immediately stiffened.

“Ha ha. I was thinking more like a massage or a pillow fight.”

“Pillow fight?” I asked, distracted.

“With Jessica from Finance. Give me a call if that happens though, I’d like to watch.”

I groaned again. “Pig.” I heard footsteps come down the hall toward the bedroom. I was on the phone with Brad, so that meant it could only be one person.

“Pig? So cruel, Natalie.” I could tell he was smiling over the phone, “Well, this pig’s got to get back to saving the world, one IP address at a time. I’ll see you tomorrow?” There was a soft knock at the door, and then Ryan poked his head in.

“Yeah.” I mumbled into the phone.

“Good. Talk to you then. Bye, Natalie.”

I pulled the phone away from my face and murmured good-bye and pressed end.

“Who was that?” Ryan asked as he came into the room and slung his messenger bag and leather jacket onto a chair.

“Just work.” God, he looked sexy in his black t-shirt and jeans. The way that shirt hugged his body made me temporarily forget about my throbbing head.

“Brad?” he scoffed.

“Actually, yes. He was just calling with a…uh, project update,” I said, not wanting to get into everything. Besides, how’d he know I’d been talking to him? “What do you have against him anyway? Aren’t you two roommates?”

He exhaled and stuck his hand in his front pockets. “We were roommates in undergrad. I was a different person back then.” His eyes went dark and for a second it looked like he was lost somewhere bleak. A second later, he was back. He shrugged. “After we graduated, the living arrangement just kind of… continued.”

“But still, why the hard feelings?”

Ryan pressed his lips together. “I don’t know. I guess… you know how we talked about honesty? Well, I’m not just big on honesty in the office. I need it everywhere. I think it’s because I grew up with such a lack of it, and Brad is… well, I told you before, he’s a player.”

“So?”

“I don’t know, it just triggers something with me. My dad was never faithful to my mom, and it caused her a lot of grief. I guess you could say I’m still holding onto those feelings.”

“That’s very psychobabble of you.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell my therapist that. He’ll be pleased.”

“
You
see a therapist?”

He shrugged. “Not often. But I’ve seen him for years. I told you, lots of people see therapists Natalie, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

I chuckled. “You know, you walk in here all tattoos and sexy hair and think you’re a badass, but you’re not. You’re like a fucking boy scout with all your moral standards and everything. You’re not fooling me, Ryan.”