We got to the basement door. Dylan pushed it open and walked in but paused in front of me. I leaned around his body and saw Stephen making out with a different girl than he had been with earlier that week. At first I didn’t recognize her, and then I saw her token pink scrunchie bobbing above her head. It was the bimbo from the sixth floor. Every time I saw her she was with a different guy.
Stephen turned and spotted me. “Kate, I thought you did your laundry on Mondays?” I contemplated sharing my thoughts on women in their thirties who still wear colorful hair pretties, but I chose to take the high road. Anyway, one or both of them would undoubtedly have a venereal disease by the end of the week, and that was my silver lining.
“Don’t talk to me, Stephen.” I coughed and mumbled, “Pencil dick” at the same time. Dylan stayed near the door. Everyone in the room watched me as I emptied my laundry bag into a washer. I added soap, stuck some quarters in, closed the lid, and turned to walk out. Just as I reached the opening, Dylan pushed me against the doorjamb and kissed me like he had just come back from war. I let him put on a full show until he moved his hand up and cupped my breast. I very discreetly said, “Uh-uh” through our mouths, and he pulled his hand away and slowed the kiss. When we pulled apart, I turned toward Stephen and the bimbo and shot them an ear-splitting smile.
“Hey, Steve”—I’d never called him Steve—“Will you text me when the washer is done? I’ll be busy in my apartment for a while.”
He nodded, still looking stunned.
I grabbed Dylan’s hand and pulled him into the elevator. Once the doors were closed, we both burst into laughter.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“I wanted to. That asshole had it coming.”
“Well, thank you. You live with your mom, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Please don’t tell her about this. I can’t imagine what she would think of me.”
“I’m not that much younger than you, Kate.” He jabbed me in the arm playfully and smirked. “You need to lighten up. Anyway, my mom would be cool with it.”
“Well, I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea.”
“Nah. We’re buddies, I get it. I’m kind of in love with that Ashley chick from the fourth floor. I just have to wait until next month when she turns eighteen, you know?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I laughed. “You two would make a cute couple.” If only it were that simple.
Page 12
* * *
Rowback
Throughout that week, I occasionally pulled out a few lottery scratchers to pass the time. By Friday, I had scratched all eighty and there was a healthy amount of the sparkly silver shavings littering my apartment. I didn’t care. I’d won thirteen new tickets and forty-four dollars. It was like I’d hit the jackpot, even though technically I’d lost twenty-three dollars.
As promised, I met Beth at Lady Fingers, although I can’t say I put much effort into my look. I wore black skinny jeans, the same grungy Chucks I’d worn all week, and a gray hoodie over an old Ani DiFranco T-shirt. Beth was waiting for me at the bar.
“You . . . look hot!” she said, scanning my getup. “I really have turned you, haven’t I?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been wearing these jeans for three days.”
“Well, casual works for you. These ladies will be all over it.”
Beth was wrong. I must have been putting off the bitch vibe because I sat at the bar, unapproached, while I nursed a pint of Guinness. I watched Beth dance and mingle. She got the entire dance floor going when she busted out an extremely enthusiastic rendition of the African Anteater Ritual. I smiled and laughed but couldn’t help wondering what I was doing there.
“I’m gonna head back.”
“Already? The night has just begun.”
“I’m sorry, Beth. I’m just really tired.”
“Oh, hey—I read the piece you wrote on Lawson.” A smile touched the side of her mouth.
“Well?”
“It’s good, Kate. Short, but good. Jerry’s printing it. It goes to press Monday.”
“What? Are you kidding me?”
“Why are you so surprised? Jerry loved it.”
“I’m shocked because R.J. himself had to approve it, and I tore him to shreds.”
“I guess Jerry found some loophole.” Of course he did.
There were a few dozen emotions flowing through me in that moment. I felt a twinge of guilt for so publicly bashing R.J., but I let it slip away when I started to feel the pain seep in. I was angry at what the winery represented in my mind. When I thought about all of the moments with Jamie, his sweet vulnerability after his insulin level had fallen, all the laughs and physical closeness I had felt with him, it was like a flurry of knives stabbing my heart. I couldn’t think of those times without thinking about how he slipped out without leaving me so much as a phone number or his last name.
“Well, it is what it is, I guess. I’ll see you Monday, Beth.”
“See ya, Kate.”