Vibrizzio (20 page)

“This isn’t about me.” The warning in her quietly angry tone went unheeded.

“Even if I never find her, I’d still rather be a red-blooded, heart-thumping
human
. Not a cold, marble statue. That’s all you’re going to be, you know. No, not a statue—a robot. That’s all you’re going to be if you keep fucking that thing.”

She struggled to keep her voice steady. “I know you’re drunk, but I came out here out of concern for you. To help you. Are you really going to do this?”

“You act so hurt because he threatened to dump you over something as stupid as a piece of plastic. Well guess what—you
did
dump him over it. How does that make you so much better than the rest of us? It doesn’t. It makes you a chickenshit robot who’s never going to find love because you’re too scared to even try. No risk, no re—”

“Fuck you, Hayden!” As soon as she screamed it, she turned and took long strides down the sidewalk along the river, heading in the opposite direction of the bar. She was shaking, unable to believe that he’d use something she’d confided in him as a weapon against her.

“Shit,” she heard him hiss. “Bates, stop. Come back.” She started running and heard the slap of his shoes behind her. She was almost out of sidewalk, and her hesitation while her mind worked out where to go gave him enough opportunity to catch up and trap both her arms to her sides as his circled around her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a drunken, heartbroken moron, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Fuck you, Hayden,” she repeated through gritted teeth, but she stopped fighting and let him hold her.

His mouth was at her ear. “You’re my Lyss. Please don’t hate me. I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t want to do anything without you. Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. I’m so sorry.”

She leaned back into his chest. “Don’t you
ever
do this to me again.”

“I won’t; I promise. I won’t.” His arms tightened around her, and she reached her hands up to cup around his and squeeze them, clenching her eyelids together in a failed attempt to stop fat tears from leaking out.

Chapter Seventeen

Lyssa’s phone buzzed as she walked to the gym to meet Trish the next day. It was Hayden.

Hayden: I didn’t say thank you last night.

Lyssa: For what?

Hayden: For saving me from being a drunken ass in front of our colleagues.

Lyssa: Yeah. I kept all the drunken assness for myself.

Hayden: Right. So another sorry and now a thank you—THANK YOU. And sorry.

Lyssa: UR welcome. Can we be done with sorry?

Hayden: Maybe. What are you doing right now?

Lyssa: Walking to gym. Trying not to bump into people as I type.

Hayden: Ugh. Just the thought of being vertical makes me woozy.

Lyssa: Hehe. Hungover much?

Hayden: VERY much. Aren’t Ur fingers cold?

Lyssa: Nope. The miracle of techno friendly fabric at my fingertips.

Hayden: Cool. Er warm.

Lyssa: Well I’m at gym now.

Hayden: Ok. Bye. I’ll go back to cradling my head and moaning.

Lyssa: Hehe. A just punishment.

Hayden: Dominatrix

Lyssa: Man ho … JK!

Hayden: So we r good? You dont hate me?

Lyssa: We r good. :)

Hayden: Good. I’ve never had a woman for a BFF before and I don’t want to blow this.

Lyssa paused, surprised to know that was how he thought of her. She was more surprised to realize that she felt the same about him—the guy she’d thought an arrogant prick the first time they’d met.

Lyssa: As long as u respect hot tub confessions u will do fine Padawan.

* * *

“I can’t believe this was our last official manager visit for Project Pineapple,” Lyssa said a month later as the seatbelt sign dinged, signifying the approach to O’Hare.

“DH has F and K on retainer. There’ll be other projects.”

“Yeah, but not on the same scale. And we won’t be a team anymore.”

Leaning his head against the back of his seat, he turned it to face her, giving her a small, melancholy smile. “I know.” His eyes lingered on her face.

“But I guess we shouldn’t start counting this thing done until the final presentation,” she said. “Too bad Shep wasn’t able to make any more progress with Lula than we were.”

“Yeah. So are you re-assuming your old client load when this is done?”

“Mostly. How about you? Is Beecher giving you new corporate clients, or will you be diversifying yourself further and moving into endowments or something?”

His gaze shifted toward the front of the cabin. “Still being worked out. Haven’t made a final decision yet.”

“Have you heard the rumors about Beecher leaving to head up the west coast office? Think he’ll do it?”

Hayden shrugged. “Hard to say. All depends on whether he’s willing to move his family out there. Career-wise, it’d be foolish of him to pass it up, assuming it’s actually been offered to him.”

Lyssa sighed and let her gaze drift to the window. “Everything changes; everyone leaves.”

“Change doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“Not always a good thing either.”

“Want to grab a drink in the terminal to toast this last trip?”

She turned back to him. “I would but I’ve got to get my notes typed up on today’s meetings so I can spend all day tomorrow refreshing myself on the clients I’ll be getting back.”

“I guess an airport bar is kind of a pathetic place for a celebration, anyhow. We should do something better. Dinner. You have plans Friday night?”

“Nope.”

“Great. Trust me to pick the place?”

“Always. You haven’t failed me yet.”

“Okay, let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you on the when and where.”

The plane made a safe landing, and the pilot stood outside the door of the cockpit as they exited. He was youngish and had an engaging smile and sparkling eyes. Lyssa typically walked past with a mere nod of gratitude, but this time for some reason—was it the engaging smile or sparkling eyes—she slowed her step and thanked him. “You made great time.”

“I aim to please,” he said, holding his hand out. As Lyssa reached to shake it, she was bumped from behind and lunged forward, barely stopping herself from toppling. She half turned to see Hayden shake the pilot’s outstretched hand before rushing her along to the jet bridge.

“Um, excuse you,” Lyssa said when he pulled up alongside her on the ramp. “What was that about?”

“What?”

“You bumping into me when I was making eyes with the cute pilot.”

“Were you? And was he? Sorry, I must’ve hit you with my bag. Didn’t realize. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. But he could’ve been my future sperm donor. Now we’ll never know.”

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Lyssa got a text inviting her to dine at Chez Hayden. He also asked if she’d like to stay to watch a movie after. He hinted at a theme to the evening.

She arrived at his apartment to find him chopping vegetables in his small kitchen. “So what’s this mysterious theme?” she asked.

“Go look by the TV.”

She set the wine she’d brought on the table and walked over, seeing a case for a movie. “
Karate Kid
,” she read and laughed.

“It’s about time we filled that heinous gap in your pop-cultural background. I’m making Japanese stir fry to go with it.”

She wandered into the kitchen and offered to help, so he asked her to finish chopping the vegetables while he heated oil in the wok and brought out the beef he’d already sliced and marinated. He also produced a small tray of sushi for them to munch on while they worked. After pouring them each a glass of Malbec, Lyssa set to work, finding that the smooth rhythm of their teamwork in the field transitioned quite nicely into the kitchen. They concocted the meal like an elegant dance, talking and laughing all the way through. By the time they filled their plates with the steaming beef and vegetables and brought them to the glass-top dining table, the conversation had turned to family.

“Being an only child of a divorced couple puts a lot of pressure on a kid,” Hayden said. “They’re in a constant competition for my affections, but at the same time, I’ve always had this thing at the back of my mind telling me I’d better not mess up; I’d better keep doing things to impress them or they might drop me the way they dropped the marriage. A psychotherapist I once dated helped me figure out that last bit.”

Lyssa nodded. “So that’s why you’re such an overachiever.”

“Probably. What’s your story? In what way did your parents screw up to make you the woman you are today?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t ever thought about it.” She bit into a warm slice of savory beef, nearly purring as its juices ran over her tongue.

“Glad you approve.” Hayden smiled. “Now let’s figure out this family thing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun. Tell me in one word how you feel when you’re with them. Don’t overthink it, first word that comes to mind.”

“Invisible.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Well, because I’m the biggest nothing in my family. The fact that they all moved away from me without a backward glance proves that. My sister is the power-homemaker slash grandchildren-provider, and Doug’s the only boy and has the impressive law degree that my parents can brag about to all their friends. And I’m … I’m just Lyssa. I’m expected to fade into the background and not cause any problems.”

“Just Lyssa is a pretty great thing to be.”

She shook her head. “Don’t do that. I’m not in need of ego boosting; my self-esteem is fine. Feeling invisible around my family means I get my validation in other ways. Like with these vegetables, for example.” She held up an oil-seared, crispy, red pepper on the tips of her tines. “Have you ever seen such an exquisitely cut pepper?”

“Aha,” Hayden said, taking a sip of wine and examining her over the glass’s rim.

“There’s no
aha
. Admiring masterfully-cut vegetables is all that’s going on here.”

“Diverting attention with humor is what’s going on here. You’re not comfortable with a spotlight shining on you. You like being in the background.”

She shrugged. “I’m used to it. Not to mention, I’m really good at it, so can we please play to my strengths here and talk about something besides me?”

“After I say this—you are a smart, capable woman. Your self-esteem might be fine, but it could be better. I see how you hold yourself back by clinging to the shadows. Project Pineapple was supposed to be a boost for your career, for all of ours, and what are you doing? Settling back into the comfort zone of your old client load. You should be demanding top tier clients, Bates.”

“But I’m fine with how things are. It’s all good.”

“There’s
fine
again. You ought to aim higher for yourself than that.”

“I’m not like you, Hayden. I don’t see anything wrong with
fine
. Were you lying when you said ‘just Lyssa is a great thing to be?’ Cause it sure seems like you want to make an improvement project out of me.”

He was lifting his chopsticks toward his mouth, but instead of biting into the food caught between them, he tapped the sticks back onto his plate. “I’m sorry. That’s not how I meant it. I do think you’re great as you are, but I don’t want you to sell yourself short.”

“I appreciate that, really. I promise to be all that I can be. Will ya get off my case now?”

“You mean remove the spotlight?”

“Whatever you want to call it. How ’bout those Bears, eh?”

“Football season ended weeks ago.”

“Oh. How did the Bears do?”

“Not great.” Hayden let the conversation turn to less personal areas for the rest of dinner.

When they finished, they cleared the dishes and cracked open a second bottle of wine for the movie. As they settled into the sofa, Lyssa said, “Seems like years ago that I slept here, doesn’t it?”

“The night before our first official presentation to DH. Hey, we haven’t toasted yet.” They raised their glasses. “To a job well done and a friendship well formed.”

“And to bar bitches, evasive farmers, and unauthorized luau kisses survived.”

They clinked, sipped, and then started the movie. After sniggering over the eighties fashions, Lyssa became fully engaged in bullied Daniel LaRusso’s plight.

“Timeless, isn’t it?” Hayden murmured.

“
Hai, sensei
.”

A bit further into the film, Lyssa sat forward to stretch her back and rub the crick in her neck.

“You okay?” Hayden asked. “Is the couch uncomfortable?”

“Couch is great. Sometimes I get like this after a flight.”

“Come here.” He patted the cushion next to him, and she slid over so he could mold his palm and fingers to the base of her neck and start kneading. “Here?”

“Up a smidge and … oh yeah, that’s it.” His fingers worked at her tense muscle, loosening it, and then climbed up the back of her neck. She moaned. “Do you have to be so amazing at everything you do?”

“Are you complaining?” His fingers stilled.

“Hell no. And don’t stop!”

He gave a low chuckle and began massaging again, giving a slight not toward the TV. “This is a classic scene.”

They quieted to watch, and eventually his rubbing tapered off. Lyssa wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, but she realized she was reclining against his chest with his arm slung over her shoulder, his fingertips absently playing with the ends of her hair. Once conscious of their intimate position, she considered repositioning herself, but she’d grown drowsy with the wine and had no inclination to move away from Hayden’s warmth.

They got to the final scene with a badly beaten Danielson on the wrestling mat and his coach, Mr. Miyagi, entreating him to not give in to fear. When the Karate Kid took the bully down, Lyssa’s eyes misted. When he held up his instructor’s hand along with his own, the tears spilled out, right onto Hayden’s shirt, making mud-colored splotches on the cotton weave.

“Sorry.” She wiped at his stomach, as if that would do any good.

“It’s okay.” She heard the emotion in his voice and propped her hand on his abs, holding herself slightly away so she could look at him. His eyes were shiny, and a thin line of wetness trailed down his face.