Stuck With You, page 2
Before she approaches us at the bar, she grabs a bottle of our favorite tequila and three shot glasses. As she pours the shots, she looks me over suspiciously, as if something is wrong. Tequila spills onto the bar between glasses as her jaw drops.
‘You cut your hair!’
I shake my head. ‘Just an undercut. I’m still sporting the man-bun you all make fun of.’ I turn to display it as she nods with approval.
She leans towards me, the bar separating us. In a soft voice, she says, ‘I like the man-bun. Never get rid of it.’ There’s a sparkle in her eyes from the lights above. The way she smiles says she truly means it.
‘Yeah, it’s very Portland hipster, bud.’ An elbow in my ribs earns a groan and a familiar chuckle invades my head.
Ugh. Conner – Jade’s boyfriend. I didn’t even notice the guy; that’s how ‘normal’ he is. You know the kind of guy I’m talking about. The ones you can find in any bar, dressed business casual, acting like trust-fund frat boys, exaggerating whatever story they’re telling to impress their equally loser-y friends. He blends into the background while I wear bright red skinny jeans and my father’s old leather jacket over my favorite vintage Duran Duran T-shirt. Not that ‘normal’ is bad, it’s just a little boring and Jade is far from boring. The woman is prancing around the place delivering drinks with a smile, in a freaking hula skirt and bright pink bikini top – every night she wears a different top, not that I’ve noticed. (Shut. Up.) – a lei around her neck and a flower behind her ear. She is absolutely out of Conner’s league.
‘Was that supposed to be a compliment?’ Mercy snaps at Conner, pulling her ukulele from the case and handing Jade her things. I can always count on Mercy to both tease and attempt to protect me. It’s what she does for her chosen family.
‘He’s kidding,’ Jade answers for him, resting her hand on his, flashing a ‘be nice’ look in his direction. ‘Guess what?’ she asks me as Mercy downs the shot poured for her.
A guessing game? I’ll play. Perhaps Conner’s decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and overcharge people for homes. I suppose it’s no secret that I don’t love the guy. Jade talks about him a lot. Conner is so great. Conner is so smart. Conner is so sweet. Conner. Conner. Conner. Thing is, she never looks truly happy while she talks about him. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself. One night he walked in while we were talking and maybe she thinks I didn’t notice, but I saw her face drop when she saw him.
‘Has Conner selflessly joined Doctors without Borders and is headed for Guatemala to help save lives?’ I say hopefully, making Jade laugh.
Conner doesn’t. Instead, he leans in, speaking directly into my ear in a tone just above a whisper. ‘Why would I leave the country to help someone else when there’s plenty of money – er, people to be helped here?’
‘Damn,’ I say as I lean away from him, sipping my drink, hoping he gets the hint that I translated his brand of asshole. Truthfully, I’m a little shocked he’d say that out loud. Thus far, besides the fact that I just truly think Jade could do better, there’s been absolutely no reason for me to dislike Conner but the way he just said that is a red flag even for me.
Then there’s the fact that he seems so uninterested in her romantically, like she’s a trophy or a business deal. He’s got the vibe of being an obnoxious pre-nup, twice a week blowjobs, home-cooked dinners will be on the table at seven on the dot and you must weigh in every morning kind of guy and nothing more. I’ve never even seen them kiss besides a peck like they’re family. There’s a kiss that says I love you and there’s a kiss that says I tolerate you, and theirs leans to the latter. If I’m kissing a woman I love, she won’t wonder if I’ve had garlic for lunch, she’ll know. I chuckle at my own thoughts.
‘No,’ Jade says with a playful roll of her eyes as if she understands whatever I’m laughing at. She might, I make this girl laugh many times a week. I’d bet she could guess my reaction to most things at this point. ‘We’re engaged!’
My phone, that was once in my hand, falls to the bar and slides over to her side. She grabs it, handing it back to me, a single eyebrow lifted in confusion as she does so. She said she’d marry that guy?! Why?
‘What?’ Mercy half squeals, grabbing her left hand. We both inspect the pretty hand now in front of us, bright blue fingernails recently done and no ring. Usually, Jade’s a multiple-ring kind of girl. Now she’s cleared the field, and he hasn’t provided.
‘Where’s the ring?’ I ask, downing my shot of tequila.
Before Jade answers, she takes the third shot, swallows it like she needs it to say the words about to leave her lips. Something’s wrong.
‘We haven’t bought one yet, but soon.’
I look at Conner, not even needing to tell him what I’m thinking because he immediately speaks.
‘The proposal was kind of a last-minute decision,’ Conner says. ‘You know how it is; when you feel it, you feel it.’
Shockingly, I do know how it is. But I find it hard to believe that these two felt that. They don’t seem very ‘in love’.
‘You two felt it, huh?’
Conner nods proudly as though he doesn’t just mean feelings – more than I needed to know.
‘Like in your bones?’ Mercy asks, her face scrunched as we exchange glances.
‘I’m sure one bone felt it,’ I say to her under my breath, making her snicker.
When Adam, one of Jade’s co-workers, introduces tonight’s musician, Mercy backs away from us, heading for the small performance area.
‘Congratulations,’ I say, my eyes on Jade, who smiles shyly. ‘When’s the big day?’
‘Oh, a long ways away.’ Conner answers the question I was asking her. ‘We’re waiting until I’m done with my residency.’
Her face falls when he waves the wedding off with ‘long ways away’. Not sure she was on board with that part.
‘Conner leaves for Boston tomorrow, so we still have some things to discuss. Nothing’s been set in stone just yet,’ Jade says, refilling the two shot glasses before me. I may not know this woman as well as Conner thinks he does, but I know his words just stung, hence her second shot of the night with me.
‘Besides the fact that she said yes,’ Conner throws in, winking.
‘Jade’s an awesome girl, so congrats on that win, I guess.’
‘What’s with you, sport? Are you ever going to settle down, or is the bar scene your future?’
‘Well, tiger, not that you need to know, but I’ve got some lady fish on some hooks.’
I don’t. What I do have is the offer of my mother managing my dating profile and picking women I usually wouldn’t. She can’t possibly do any worse than I have. And with her busy attempting to find me a wife, I can focus on editing the documentary about her life as a teen/pop star without her needing to approve of every decision I make. It’s a win-win.
‘Awesome,’ Conner says, lifting the beer he’s peeling the label off of unsuccessfully. ‘I hope these dates feel the same way Jade does about your hair.’
I glance at Jade, who grimaces, lifting her shoulders as she overhears his words while pouring someone else’s drink.
‘And I hope you don’t fail out of medical school,’ I say, with an equally douchey tone.
As guys, we know this is where the conversation ends. We are not friends. I’m friends with Jade. Usually, he doesn’t come in, and she goes on and on about him with her words.
I shouldn’t even be involved in this relationship. What I know about the situation is that he swept her off her feet with romantic talking sessions and deep-feeling dives. He’s one of those smooth talkers who somehow makes women feel comfortable enough to open up to them, but in their head they’re replaying the last X-rated movie they watched. Not my style, and I don’t understand how in the hell he sold it to her.
When the joint gets busier, I decide to feel Conner out. What could a little conversation hurt? He already thinks I like him. I turn on my stool, now facing him. ‘So, you worried about leaving her ringless alone in a city full of hipsters looking for love?’
He turns my way, doing that Justin Beiber head flip to fix his hair without hands –yet I’m the hipster. ‘Perfect lead-in; it’s like you read my mind. I wanted to ask you something. You two are friendly; maybe you could keep an eye on her for me while I’m gone?’
I stare at him, confusion probably all over my face. Did he seriously just ask me that? A guy he’s met a handful of times, who mostly comes to this place to chat with his new fiancée? You don’t ask another dude to look out for your woman unless she’s family. It’s like, cardinal bro code.
‘You’re asking me to watch your fiancée?’
‘I’d ask her family, but they don’t love me. I have a feeling they’ll be pushing her to dump me while I’m gone.’
Really? Guy fucked up, did he? I want to ask why, but I think I know. He’s just a douche. How doesn’t she see it?
‘Jade doesn’t need babysitting. She’s a grown woman,’ I remind him.
He drops his head with frustration. ‘This I know, man-bun.’ The way he says this as a slam makes me want to knock him off his stool. I won’t, but let it be noted I want to. ‘She likes talking to you for whatever reason, and you don’t seem like you’ve got much going on being a barfly and all.’ He reaches inside his jacket, pulls out a business card, and hands it to me. ‘With residency taking up all my time, I may often be out of reach. Text me if she’s got any real issues. Deal?’
Any real issues? What’s that mean? I stare at his card. Conrad Francis Walsh III. Jesus, this guy is as lame as they come. He just called me a barfly with nothing going on, yet he wants me to ‘watch his lady’ when he’s too busy to care. It seems like something an absolute moron would do, but alright. Jade’s the coolest girl I know, not one part of me wants to say no to this – besides that part that knows if I say yes, she’ll somehow find out and shit will blow up. I’m a movie guy, I know exactly what kind of situation that would present. Thing is, I’m not telling Conner this. He doesn’t get a yes or a no. Just his word against mine.
‘Also, could you not tell her any of this? I don’t want it to seem like I don’t trust her. You know?’
I nod. Jesus, this guy is making it easy. I wish I was recording this conversation. ‘Obviously,’ I say as if I’m on board, slipping his card into my back pocket. ‘Consider her in safe hands.’
He laughs, nodding as if we have something in common – we both like Jade.
The city is dark when Mercy and I leave the bar. Lights from buildings around us sparkle like stars, and not many folks are on the streets like they are during the day. Summer is coming to a close; it’s jacket weather, as the evenings are starting to get cold in the pacific northwest.
‘He asked you to babysit her?’ Mercy balks, clearly offended for Jade, as we walk back to our apartments directly across the street from one another.
I’ve known Mercy since I was a kid. She’s a bonus sister I never wanted. Hollyn, my actual sister, and she have been BFFs since they were in grade school. After Hols and my best friend, Dax, got engaged and took over my apartment, Mercy and I decided to be roomies. It worked well until Brooks swept the girl off her feet, and now she’s playing house in his apartment across the street.
‘That’s weird to ask a guy you don’t know. Is he aware you’re attracted to her?’
‘Pretty sure everyone who goes to Black Tide is attracted to her.’
She laughs.
‘How would you feel if Brooks asked Dylan to watch you while he was unavailable and only contact him with the real issues?’
Her jaw drops as she stops mid-step. ‘He said that? Offense on the field, sir.’
I nod.
‘Pffttt, what a cock-monger. I knew something seemed off about him. Did you see her face when we asked to see her ring? Who proposes without a ring?’
‘Conrad Francis Walsh, the third.’
Mercy giggles. ‘That’s his full name? Jesus, what were his parents thinking? To answer your earlier question, though, Brooks would never be that stupid. He knows I can take care of myself, plus he’d never be so unavailable that if something was wrong, I couldn’t get a hold of him.’
‘That’s how you know he truly loves you,’ I say.
‘Exactly,’ she says with a bit of a bashful grin. She’s still getting used to this whole ‘love’ thing. ‘Poor Jade. She’s such a sweet girl. What are you going to do?’
‘Well.’ I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans as we walk the city sidewalks illuminated by the moon and the streetlights. ‘I guess I’m gonna keep an eye on her, and when I spot the red flags coming from across the country, I’ll tell her.’
‘Gently, Riv,’ Mercy suggests. ‘Jade seems softer than the rest of us, and I know how you are – brutally honest.’
‘At times, though, I do have manners too.’
‘Sure ya do…’ she jokes.
This could be a complete disaster, but I feel the need to do this. For her sake, not his. I see her all the time anyway; the least I can do is check in on her and listen like she often does for me.
3
JADE
‘Hi, I need two Venti Americano coffees with room for cream and sugar. Four of the blackberry scones. Two of the banana bread slices and these.’ I drop the cheese and fruit trays onto the Starbucks counter, expecting to spend fifty bucks from my tips last night on a breakfast I didn’t make but am going to lay out as if I did. Typically, I would have, but last night I was preoccupied with mine and Conner’s last night together for a while, so I snuck out before he woke up and drove like a madwoman to the nearest coffee shop.
The woman at the counter rings me up, bags my items, then hands me a drink tray with the two coffees. For safekeeping, I seatbelt the tray into the front passenger seat, setting the food bag onto the floorboards before racing home. With the bag over my arm and coffee tray in my hand, I unlock the front door and head in, hoping Conner is still asleep. I hear the shower running, so perfect timing.
‘Hai, pretty lady!’ Spike squawks, making kissing noises as though I’ve been gone for a week and not twenty minutes.
‘Does he know I left?’ I ask as if he’s human. With as many things as he says, it sometimes seems like he is.
Spike is my roommate, my talking Congo African gray parrot I inherited from my grandfather. He’s twenty-two years old, knows too many words, refuses to learn the silent game, and hates his cage. He’s been calling me ‘pretty lady’ since I was three. If a stranger walks by my apartment door or windows, he yells, ‘Intruders will be shot!’ It’s as good as having a guard dog.
‘Lemme out!’ he screams.
‘Nope, not while Conner is here. He can’t afford to lose a finger before he leaves this afternoon. He needs all those fingers to help repair broken bodies.’
‘Conner. Conner. Conner,’ he repeatedly says, bumping his body up and down as he walks around the elaborate cage setup.
My place is nothing special. There’s a kitchen to the left of the large living/bedroom you walk into. At the far end is an enormous bathroom. It’s practically as big as the kitchen. Almost everything in here was passed down to me from my grandparents’ home after they passed. Or I’ve utilized one of my favorite pastimes and thrifted it.
‘Spike, no like.’
‘No like what?’ I ask as I spread the Starbucks contents across my kitchen island, quickly pouring the coffee into two mugs.
‘Spike needs out. Hurry! Fuck!’ he commands.
Yep, Grandpa taught him all the swear words. Along with catcalling when I ask how I look, speaking about himself in the third person, knock-knock jokes, dirty jokes, games, and songs that he now annoys me with on a minute-by-minute basis. It’s kind of nice, though. You could say I’m never lonely, and it’s like a piece of my grandpa still exists through smart-ass comments and unexpected conversations. He still makes me smile even though he lives in an urn on my dresser.
‘Not until Conner leaves, buddy. I’m sorry, you can be a tad mean.’
He stares at me wordlessly, as though he understands and is deeply offended. After a moment, he turns his back on me and stares out the window. Finally, the silent treatment. It’s rare, but it does happen. How a bird with a brain the size of a peanut responds more intelligently than some humans I know is beyond me. I’m not sure he even realizes he’s a bird.
When Conner exits the bathroom, his hair is still wet and he’s shirtless as I get the evidence that this is store-bought into the garbage. I can hardly keep my eyes on what I’m doing.
‘Good morning! I made breakfast.’
He glances over at me with a smirk. ‘Sure you did. That’s why you were gone when I woke up?’
Damn it. ‘Note to self: do not apply to be a spy…’
Conner chuckles as he pulls on a T-shirt. ‘I don’t have much time; my flight got moved up. Can you help me pack? I need to leave, like an hour ago.’
‘Your flight got moved up? How?’ I ask the first thing that comes to mind allowing the words to snap out sort of angrily. We haven’t done anything he promised we’d do. No wedding date is set. He only told his parents yesterday. And I’ve looked at exactly zero rings.
‘Because I requested it.’
‘You requested it? But why? I thought we were going to spend the day together, shop for rings, and discuss the wedding.’
He’s tossing the clothes he’s left here over the last couple of months into a suitcase on my bed that I swear wasn’t here when I got up. Did he bring it over from his parents’ place? ‘No time, babe. I promised Blake we’d meet up later, and considering I haven’t seen him in months, I can’t cancel.’
