Chapter Twenty-one

One Year Earlier … Third Year Out of College

Christine turned out to be hard to shake. When Matt called her with the breakup news, she cried and promised to change and made a general scene. He reinforced his position that he didn’t really want to see her anymore, and thought he’d done a thorough enough job, but she called back the next day. Like nothing had happened. Talked about what their plans were for the weekend. Matt was flummoxed. He’d never encountered her particular brand of crazy before, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

They broke up every day for a week. He tried the phone. He tried email. He tried not answering her calls. But Christine didn’t seem to understand the words he was saying.

“What are you exactly saying?” I asked him when he called me on Wednesday.

“I say, ‘I don’t think we should see each other anymore.’ You’d think that would work.”

“Maybe she’s interpreting the ‘don’t think’ part as you not being decided or something.”

“Maybe she’s just crazy.”

“Could be.”

“I’d like to remind you this is your fault. Your taste in women sucks.”

I laughed. “Well, excuse me for not having good taste in heterosexual women.”

“I’m not even gonna touch that one.”

“So, what are you going to try next?”

He blew out a sigh. “I have no idea. How do you convince a delusional crazy woman of something she doesn’t want to believe?”

“Does she have a rabbit you could boil?”

“Wow, I never thought I’d hear you suggest pet abuse.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Maybe I’ll just tell her I hate her family.”

“Have you met them?”

“No.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Well, good luck with that, then.”

He groaned. “You owe me for this.”

Normally, a threat like that from him made my stomach go all liquidy with anticipation. This time was no exception, but I pressed the heel of my hand into my abdomen, remembering Josh and our upcoming date. “I gotta go,” I told Matt.

When he called me on Thursday, he sounded more desperate. And more annoyed.

“She says she doesn’t want me to see you anymore.”

I could barely make sense of the words. “I’m sorry, what?”

“She said she sees the way we are together, and you must be the reason I can’t commit to her.”

I didn’t even know what to say. My stomach clenched and my ears got hot.

“Joss?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I sank onto the arm of my couch and scratched at a sudden itch behind one knee.

“How the hell am I going to get rid of this nut job?” he demanded.

The itch spread down my calf and I nearly toppled from the couch as I reached down to chase it. “Maybe you could change your phone number.”

“She knows where I live, genius.”

“Well, why the hell would you bring her to your house?”

“I didn’t know she was crazy at the time.”

“Maybe you can get her to break up with you.”

“Doubtful.”

“Think about it.”

He sighed again. “This is your fault.”

“Yeah, I know.” The itch migrated to my other leg. “Ugh, Matty, I gotta go. I have to wash off the fur.”

“From anyone else, that would sound downright disturbing.”

“Gotta love me,” I said distractedly, already stripping off my scrub pants as I headed for the bedroom.

“Your charm almost makes up for the fact that you saddled me with a crazy woman.”

I tossed the phone to the bed and hauled my Hello Kitty scrub top over my head. That felt a little better and I sighed as I picked the phone up. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t set you up with your dream girl.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me, I guess.”

“You’ll have to break up with her before I do a damn thing,” I said. “You know the rules.”

“I’m trying, doesn’t that count?”

“No.” I carried the phone into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Besides, I’ve got a date with Josh. You might be on your own with this one.”

“The grocery store guy? Please.”

If I was a dog, I would have flattened my ears at that point. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Joss, come on, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Then why did you say it? I really like this guy. Just because you’re all pissed off at Crazy Christine doesn’t mean you should be a jerk to me.”

“All right, all right. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Actually, Matt, I’m not wearing any.” And then I hung up on him.

The next day I had a series of text messages from Matt.

I’ve decided you should break up with her for me.

She’s planning a weekend trip to Chicago for us.

I have a plan and you’re helping me.

I called him, but got no answer. I left a voice mail. “I have a date with Josh tonight, so whatever evil plot you’ve cooked up is going to have to wait.”

The return message arrived while I was in the shower. “Fuck your date with Josh, I need your help. You owe me. Please, Joss, I don’t know what else to do.”

I returned the call with my hackles up out of principle more than any remaining anger. I’d never heard him so genuinely at a loss, and it made me soften toward him. To my surprise, he didn’t answer again. “I can’t imagine why you think I owe you after you were such an ass to me last night. Tell you what, I’m going out with Josh. Call me if she’s wielding a knife or something. Wait. Scratch that. Call 911 if she’s armed. Good luck. Bye, Matty.” Not completely softened, I guess.

The next call from Matt came just after I’d arrived at the restaurant to meet Josh. I didn’t answer. Then, I muted my phone and ignored a volley of text messages while Josh and I worked our way through cocktails and appetizers.

Before our main course was served, I decided to make a quick bathroom run, and out of habit, I checked my messages.

She’s gonna kill me in my sleep and it’ll be on ur head.

I need u to come to my house at 9.

Please Joss. Tell me ur gonna meet me.

Hello?

<poke>

I dialed his number.

“Damn it, Joss, it’s about damn time!”

“I’m on a date, Matt!”

“You can ditch.”

“I’m not ditching him in the middle of a date. My food hasn’t even arrived. I’m calling you from the bathroom!” I whispered, earning a curious look from a woman at the sink.

“I finally figured out how to get rid of her,” he said, ignoring me. “I’m gonna convince her that I’m going back to you.”

“Back to me?” I repeated.

“She’s convinced that you’re my ex-girlfriend, and that you want me back.”

I bridged my forehead with one hand and turned into the tiled corner near the hand dryer to avoid more furtive glances from Sink Woman. “So, what does this have to do with me leaving in the middle of my date?”

“She left me a message that she’s coming over tonight. I told her not to, but she’s coming. I want you to be here. As proof.”

“More like as your bodyguard, you big chicken!” I hissed, my voice echoing off the wall. I glanced at the woman at the sink, who was taking a suspiciously long time drying her hands on a paper towel.

“Alvin, just do this for me. I can’t keep breaking up with this girl. She’s a fruit loop and I don’t speak crazy!”

“What makes you think I do?”

“I need your help,” he whined. It was not an attractive sound, and I wrinkled my nose.

“I can’t just ditch Josh.”

He huffed, then tried a new tone of voice. “This is Sorbet, Joss. You owe me.”

“How is this Sorbet? There’s nothing about helping you break up with a crazy girl in the rules.” I finally turned to the woman, still laboring over her hand drying and said, “Do you need something?”

She startled and shook her head, making a beeline for the door.

“New rule.”

“Oh, no, buddy. No new rules to get me to walk out on a date. Besides, you know the deal: the relationship has to be over for Sorbet.”

“I’ve been trying to make it over for a week!” he said. I could hear from his tone of voice that he was searching, desperate for the thing that would make me cooperate. “Okay, no new rules. Old rules. I’m allowed one violation.”

“No way. You can’t choose your violation while I’m in the middle of a date.”

“Why not?”

“I like this guy!”

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not in a relationship.”

“Sex does not define a relationship,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut to avoid my reflection.

“Joss, come on! I don’t know what else to do.”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask me to ditch Josh. He’s really nice, and he could be, like, the guy. What do you think he’d say if I told him I had to go so I could pretend to be another guy’s girlfriend?”

“He might think it was funny. Maybe he’d give you a ride. You don’t know until you ask.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d just love it if I asked for a ride to go have Sorbet Sex with you.” My voice was still echoing off the tile when the door opened and another woman came in to use the bathroom.

“Who said anything about having sex with me?” he asked, with a smirk so obvious I could hear it.

I blushed and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking it.”

“Of course, I was thinking it, and obviously you were, too.”

“Come on, Matty …”

“Alex.”

I knew he had me. At least, I knew I was going to let him have me.

I sighed. “All right, all right.”

“Thank you,” he exhaled, relieved. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“What am I gonna say to Josh?”

“The truth?”

“Um, no.”

“Family emergency?”

“That’s so trite.”

“Don’t say anything,” he suggested, and I imagined the shrug that accompanied the words.

“What?”

“Just walk out.”

“I can’t do that! That’s horrible.”

“Why do you care? You don’t even like this guy.”

“Yes I do.” I propped my forearm on the wall to rest my head on.

“But you like me better.”

I shifted my shoulders, trying to ease the pressure of my clothes against my back. They’d gained at least twenty pounds during this conversation. “Don’t push me.”

“Seniority?” he tried.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Come on, Joss. Live a little.”

“Live a little?” I repeated. “This is hardly on anyone’s a-thousand-and-one-things-to-do-before-I-die list!”

“Come on, it’ll be a great story.”

“Matt!”

“Part of you wants to do it.”

And part of me did. I so rarely did anything truly awful. I didn’t even speed … much. It would be a horrible, thrilling thing to do. Like shoplifting. “This is a terrible idea. I’m going to hell for this.”

“Well, save me a seat when you get there.”

I hesitated, looking at myself in the mirror. The stressed out look of my eyes and mouth didn’t go well with the light, date-night makeup and the sparkly clip that held back my hair at one temple. I closed my eyes against the image and exhaled loudly into the phone. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re staying on the phone with me.”

“I will.”

My heart was hammering as I walked out of the bathroom. I glanced back at the dining room, and then down the hall toward the kitchen. Josh was sitting with his back to the bathroom and I could skirt through the bar to leave. I took a deep breath and whispered, “I hate you,” into the phone.

“Stop stalling and go.”

I ducked my head and strode confidently through the bar, not risking a backward glance as I was briefly exposed in the entry. I had to stop long enough to retrieve my coat from the coatroom. Josh would have no reason to look in that direction, but my heart was in my throat anyway. I opened the door and walked in triple-time to the parking lot, barely breathing until I thumbed the UNLOCK button on my key fob.

“You are gonna owe me so big for this one.”

“Big-time,” he agreed.

“You have no idea …”

“They’ll build a statue in your honor someday, Jocelyn Kiel.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hold back a grin. “All right. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

My nerves made my foot heavy on the gas pedal and I was at Matt’s place less than ten minutes later. I banged on his door repeatedly until he came down to open it for me.

“I can’t believe you made me do that!”

He tilted his head. “Come on, it was kind of fun.”

“I am a horrible person.”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” The illicit thrill of walking out was gone and I felt awful.

“It was a second date. You didn’t leave him at the altar.”

“And now I’ll never be able to.”

“Oh, you didn’t want to marry some guy you met in a grocery store anyway.”

I frowned at him.

“Look, you could have made something up and gotten a rain check from him. You walked out”—he spread his hands—“obviously, you don’t like him that much.”

“I was listening to your stupid advice!” I shouted.

“Why the hell did you start doing that?” His voice wasn’t as loud as mine, but it wasn’t his usual low, unflappable tone.

I clenched my jaw. “I can’t believe I just did that. I wrecked things with a perfectly good guy because you can’t handle your girlfriend.”

“Who you set me up with.”

“I must be some kind of masochist.” I looked at my watch. “And he’s gone by now, I’m sure, so I can’t even go back.”

“What would you say anyway?” Matt clasped his hands below his chin and batted his eyes. “Sorry, there was a puddle in the bathroom and I slipped, hitting my head on the sink. I’ve only just come to this very moment.”

A startled bark of laughter burst from my mouth. I pressed my lips together and tried to maintain my anger, but my feet took me into the tiny vestibule at the bottom of the stairs anyway. “I should have told him there was an emergency.”

“I told you that. You said it was trite.” He crossed his arms.

“This is still your fault.” I took my coat off and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall.

“Okay, fine. It’s my fault, are you happy?”

“No, I’m an idiot.”

He stayed silent.

“Why am I doing this?” I asked. “Why did I do this horrible thing to this great guy?”

“Don’t examine your motives right now, there’s a crazy woman on her way to my apartment.”

“You really know how to make a girl want to stick around.”

“Just go upstairs, please.” He threw the dead bolt and gestured for me to precede him.

“Does she know I’m going to be here?”

“I told her I was going back to you. She said she wanted to come over to discuss it. I told her not to. Then, I didn’t answer her last call, but she left a message saying she was coming over. She says we need to talk.”

“So, how do you want to play this?” I asked. I didn’t want to think too hard about what it said about me, but I’d decided to stick around. Might as well get down to logistics for the disaster in the making.

“I don’t know. Just back me up about our fictional former relationship.”

“You owe me so big …” I gave him an arch look when I got to the top of the stairs. “He’s already called me four times.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t answer.”

“Cold.” He grinned.

“Hey, this was all your idea. You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“Mea culpa.”

“God damn lawyer,” I muttered, loud enough that he’d hear.

Matt grinned. He was in law school for lack of another direction in life. He had no intention of being an attorney and loved lawyer jokes.

There was a loud pounding on the door below and we glanced at each other.

“Showtime,” Matt muttered, headed for the stairs.

After my reprehensible escape from dinner, I should have been doing something considerably more karma-building than this, but as long as I was already here, I was inspired to take on the role. “Wait!” I said, catching him by the back of his shirt.

“What?” He turned.

I set to work on his shirt, opening the top four or five buttons before it was loose enough to pull over his head, followed by his T-shirt. He was left in nothing but his jeans. “Okay, go.”

“What is on your devious mind?” he wondered aloud as the pounding resumed on the door.

“Get the door before she breaks it down.” I pointed a finger at the stairs and gave him my sternest look. He didn’t seem impressed, instead stroking his thumb along one side of my jaw before he walked to the door.

As soon as he headed down the stairs, I darted down the hall to his bedroom. It was dark in the room, but I knew my way around well enough. I stripped down to my panties, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor and whipped the blanket off the sloppily made bed. Then I pulled the top sheet free and wrapped it around myself toga-style. I dragged it down the hall with me, ruffling my free hand through my hair and taking a moment to smear my mascara before I stepped through the mullioned door at the top of the stairs.

“Matty, who’s at the door? Come back to bed.”

He glanced over his shoulder and took in my appearance with only the barest hint of surprise.

“What’s going on?” Christine demanded, anger making her small features take on the look of Tinker Bell.

“What’s she doing here?” I asked.

“I knew it!” she shouted, shoving past Matt to storm up the stairs. “I knew you were after him!”

“Me? He broke up with you,” I said.

Matt hurried up the stairs, trying to get around Christine, but she had one hand slammed against the wall on each side of the stairs. “No, he didn’t!” she snarled.

“Yes, he did, you fruit loop,” I said, amused to hear Matt’s term come out of my mouth. “Haven’t you been listening?”

She turned. “Matt, how could you do this to me?” she said, chin quivering. “Everything was going so well!”

His eyes widened. I could read his thoughts loud and clear: Are you fucking kidding me? He schooled his features before speaking. “I’m sorry, Christine. I just can’t say no to her.”

And then she did the last thing I expected. She wheeled around and hit me. An openhanded slap to my left cheek. I had never been hit before and several thoughts crossed my mind simultaneously. First, I felt a detached fascination. Second, the stinging pain that shot through my cheek and made my eyes water amazed me. Third, I felt an immediate desire to hit her back.

“Hey!” Matt said, making me realize that less than a second had passed. He shoved past her to put himself protectively between us. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You crazy bitch,” I gasped, covering my cheek.

“I hate you!” she screamed, trying to reach around Matt to get another swipe at me. I darted backward, catching my heels in the trailing sheet and nearly falling. I caught the edge of the doorframe with the tips of one outstretched hand.

“Get out, Christine. Now,” Matt said in a tone that offered no room for argument.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” she said.

“Thank God. Get out,” he repeated.

“You can keep your precious whore, you … you … jerk!” She made an about-face, thundered down the stairs, and slammed the door.

“God, Joss, are you okay?” Matt asked me.

I didn’t hesitate—I punched him in the shoulder. “She fucking hit me!”

“You just hit me!”

“You owe me even bigger now,” I said, taking my hand away from my hot cheek. He winced, looking at my face with concern.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You better be!” I slugged him in the shoulder again. He had the decency not to rub the spot.

“Let’s get you some ice.”

I shook my head and pressed my fingers into my cheek. “Don’t. It’s not that bad.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I can’t believe she slapped me!”

“Me neither.”

From a distance, we heard the sound of squealing tires. I braced for the sound of an impact, fearing that Crazy Christine was going to total my car in revenge. None came. I heard her race down the service drive, engine roaring in protest.

“Holy crap. She’s seriously insane,” I said, dabbing at my cheek again.

“I told you,” he said. “Rabbit-boiling crazy. But, I swear, I didn’t think she would get violent. I’m really sorry, Jossie.”

“New rule. You’re not allowed to get me bitch-slapped anymore.”

“Deal.”

“God damn, that really hurt!” I said in amazement. “I had no idea it would hurt that much.”

Matt grinned. “You should have hit her back.”

“I’m not having a naked cat fight for you, pal. I think I’ve done quite enough for you tonight.” I hitched the sheet tighter to my body.

“You’re naked under there?”

“Almost.”

His eyes moved down, as if he was praying for the sudden onset of X-ray vision.

“Matt!” I protested, more out of form than any real indignation. “You’ve already convinced me to disappear in the middle of my date and gotten me slapped in the face by a crazy woman. Are you seriously gonna suggest I should have sex with you on top of all that?”

He made a thoughtful face. “It sounds worse when you say it all out loud.”

“No kidding.”

“Then, I guess you should go get dressed.”

“Nope.” I dragged the sheet to the couch and flopped down in front of the TV. He’d left it on mute, showing a hockey game. There was time on the clock, but I didn’t know how much of the game was left. I didn’t know who was playing—hell, I didn’t even like hockey, but I was in the mood to be a pain in the ass. Matt had earned a little of that.

“Why not?”

“I’m gonna sit here with you knowing full well that I have nothing but a thong on under this sheet and you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

“Is this supposed to be some sort of payback for tonight?”

“You got it.”

He sat across from me, in the room’s one chair and watched me rather than the game. I studiously avoided his eyes and tucked my feet up beneath me, leaning on the arm for a better view of the television. Knowing he was watching, I let the tight wrap of the sheet loosen, slowly revealing more of my back until it was pooled around my hips, but still covered my breasts. The Red Wings were pulling their goalie in a desperate bid for victory when Matt spoke.

“Are you trying to seduce me or something?”

“Shhh … the game’s almost over.”

Matt stood and came to my side of the room. He knelt on the couch behind me and braced his hands around my torso so that he could lean close enough to kiss my right shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I asked, turning to look back at him.

“Invoking the conflict rule. You’re pissed at me, and I get to make it up to you.” He brushed my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed.

“I’m not pissed at you,” I said.

“Seems like you are.”

I shifted slightly onto one hip to get a better look at him. “I just can’t believe an evening that started with a nice dinner date ended with me getting slapped in the face. Literally.”

He skimmed his fingertips over my offended cheek. “It doesn’t have to end that way.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to seduce me, O Person Who Is at Fault for This Whole Mess.”

“Maybe.” He leaned closer and kissed my willing lips.

I turned more and slid my hands over his still-bare shoulders. “Why are you doing that?”

“I told you. I need to make it up to you. It’s my fault you got slapped.”

I kissed him, and felt the sheet slip down to near indecency. “It’s my fault you met her in the first place.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, kissing my cheek in a trail toward my ear.

“But it’s not my fault you’re such a little man-tramp that you had to bring her back to your house as soon as you could get her out of her clothes.” My eyes slipped shut as he passed my ear and worked his way down my throat with soft, wet kisses. He laughed against my neck, breath tickling me into goose bumps.

“You’re right, that was my fault.”

“And it’s your fault that I blew my chance with Josh.”

He stopped kissing my collarbone for a second, and I heard hesitation in his voice when he agreed, “Also true.” I was willing to take it.

“And you’re the one who came up with this stupid plan.”

“I never told you to take your clothes off and come traipsing out here looking like lust in human form.”

I smiled. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He straightened up to grin at me, then kissed me again, letting his carefully balanced weight descend onto me. “So, are you mad at me, or not?”

I didn’t answer at first, in favor of savoring the warm contact with Matt. He was radiating heat, as usual. “Not,” I decided.

“So, we don’t need to resolve any conflict?” he said into my hair.

“Wait, then, yes. I am mad.”

“Okay, good.”

There wasn’t much clothing between us, but the sheet was something of a nuisance and it wasn’t long before we were both struggling against it. “You’re laying on it—” I gasped, trying to pull a section free from my legs.

“Fuck it, the couch is too small anyway.” He picked me up, sheet and all. I made transporting us to the bedroom difficult by refusing to stop kissing him. “Joss, I can’t see,” he said, pulling away.

“Sorry, sorry.” I turned my face into his shoulder, trying to clear his vision.

He dropped me onto the bed, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, and grabbed the end of the sheet. It took two or three tugs to pull it free, and I got a bit of a rug burn on my back from the last pull, but I didn’t care. I stripped off my last scrap of clothing while Matt did the same and then he was on top of me.

Our skin stuck together like window clings as we lay together that night. Outside the cocoon of blankets we’d created, February was hard at work cooling the bedroom to a goose-pimply sixty-something. Beneath the sheets, though, we could have thawed a Thanksgiving turkey. The tip of my nose, exposed to the elements, was frosty and I pushed it against Matt’s cheek.

“One more new rule,” I said. “Next time, we’re going to my place. My heater works.”

“I may have to break up with someone just so I can sleep at your place.”

I smiled, eyes heavy with sleep. “Maybe we should just start fighting a lot.”

“Set me up again, and I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that.”

“All right, all right, point taken.” I pinched him. “You’re on your own.”

“Sounds good to me.”