Page 7
7
TAYLOR
Lacey doesn’t come to yoga class, but she does agree to have lunch after it. She meets me at the marina and watches the last part of the class. Maybe she’ll be convinced to try it.
I meet her on the beach, carrying my board. "I just have to put the board away and grab my stuff. Be right back.”
Along with the others in the class, I trudge into the building housing Makara Yoga. It’s cool today, so I’m wearing leggings and a long-sleeved tee. Lacey and I are just going to walk over to Bandit’s, known for their fabulous shrimp, on the same marina basin as the yoga studio. It’s a casual place, so it doesn’t matter how I’m dressed. I slide my feet into my flip-flops and sling my purse over my shoulder.
“Did you hear about what happened in the game the other night?” Lacey asks as we walk there.
“What game?”
“The Golden Eagles versus Nashville.”
JP mentioned it the other night. “What happened?”
“Manny and JP got into a bit of a shoving match.”
“Oh Jesus. Really?”
“I didn’t see it, but Théo told me about it. It looked like Manny was chirping at him.”
“Damn. What is wrong with Manny?”
“Maybe he’s still mad because JP got the better of him that night at the wedding.”
“Men.” I roll my eyes.
We’re shown to a table for two outside, right next to the water, boats bobbing in the marina only a short distance away.
“So? Ready to join me next weekend for a class?” I ask Lacey when we’re settled.
She smiles. “I have to work next Saturday.”
“Phhht.” But I grin. “You should just quit your job at Jolie.” Lacey sells cosmetics at the big beauty supply store.
“I can’t quit my job!”
“I think Théo can afford to support you.”
“I don’t want to be supported.” She gives me an affronted look. Then she shrugs. “Actually, I may quit my job at Jolie if things keep going well with the movie gigs.”
A few months back she got a job helping with the makeup on a Hollywood movie, and since then she’s worked on two more.
“You like doing that, don’t you?”
“I love it.” She smiles. “It was really cool doing the makeup for Blake after the explosion . . . all the blood and dirt and gore.”
I grimace. “Fun.”
She laughs. “No, really!”
“I know, I know. So you and Blake Lively are best buds now, huh.”
She chuckles again. “Right.”
We order beers, and popcorn shrimp and spicy fries to share.
“Okay, what is going on with you and JP?” Lacey leans forward.
“Whatever do you mean?” Then I snort. “Okay, I made a big mistake.”
Her eyes bug open wide. “What?”
“I slept with him. The night before the wedding.”
“Oh.” She blinks.
“And the night of the wedding. During the wedding.”
“Whaaaat?”
“Yeah.” I whoosh out an exhalation big enough to sail a boat across the nearby basin. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“Apparently, he did. More than once.”
“Ha ha. Yeah. He was flirting with me and it was fun, and I was there alone and so was he . . . He is good-looking . . .”
She wrinkles her nose.
“Come on! He looks a lot like Théo. Only better.”
“What?” Her spine straightens. “Take that back.”
“It’s in the eye of the beholder. You think Théo’s better-looking because you’re in love with him.”
Her forehead creases and her mouth kicks up at one corner.
“Anyway, I figured, why shouldn’t I have a fling with a hot guy?”
“Mm-hmm. But at my wedding ?”
“We snuck up to his room.” I nearly fan myself, remembering how hot it was. Damn.
“Your face is red. It was good, wasn’t it?”
“It was amazing.”
“Did Manny find out? Is that what happened?”
“He figured it out, yeah.” I bite my lip and sit back as our waitress brings our beers. My stomach tightens, and then I confess, “I sort of wanted him to know.”
Lacey slumps in her chair and closes her eyes. “Oh my God.”
“I know, I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible about what happened.”
“You slept with JP to get back at Manny?”
“No!” Now my eyes pop wide. “Manny wasn’t even around at the rehearsal! That was all . . . JP.” I lift my chin. “I’m not going to apologize or be ashamed of wanting to have sex with a good-looking guy who was into me.”
“Ugh. You should know I’m not judging you for that. You have every right to sleep with whoever you want.”
“Thank you.”
“But it did, uh, cause a little problem.”
“I know, and I’m so, so sorry.” I lean forward, holding her gaze. “I feel responsible.”
“I don’t blame you. Is that why you took off?”
“Yes, but I was pissed, too. I mean, what right did Manny have to do that? He left without even ending things with me. I hadn’t seen or talked to him in months. What a douche!”
“Did you talk to him?”
“At the wedding?”
“Yeah. Or, after.”
“He came to see me the next day.” I grimace. “He apologized. He said he didn’t realize how much he missed me until he saw me leaving with JP.”
“Idiot.”
“I know, right?” I roll my eyes. “I told him to go back to Nashville and forget it. And forget me.”
Lacey tilts her head and gives me a sad smile. “I know you really liked Manny.”
“I really did.” I pout.
“If only he’d figured shit out before he left, maybe things would have worked out.”
“Who knows?” I hitch one shoulder.
Our food arrives, so we pause the conversation to arrange the baskets of shrimp and fries, then dig in.
“So that’s why he was bugging JP in the game,” Lacey says.
“Maybe. Idiot.”
Lacey picks up a fry. “Back to you and JP . . .”
“Right. I don’t want anything to do with him either.”
“What did he do to deserve that ?”
“They were fighting! On the dance floor! At your wedding!”
“He didn’t start it.”
“Well, I know, but . . . it was just stupid. Hockey players are stupid.”
She lifts an eyebrow.
“Not Théo.”
She nods.
“Also, he’s an asshole. Look what he did to Théo, his own brother.”
“You mean when he and Emma got together?”
“Right.”
“But you knew that about him when you slept with him.”
She’s got me there. “Whatever. It was just a one-night thing.”
“Okay. It might make things a little awkward if you two are going to snark at each other every time you’re together.”
“We’re not going to be together.”
She pushes her bottom lip out doubtfully.
“Even if we are, I can be friends with him.” I shrug and munch on a shrimp.
“Mmm. Okay. If you say so.”
“Why do you look like that?” I eye her.
“Like what? Like I don’t believe you two can just be friends? Maybe it’s because of the sexual tension that just about set the air on fire the other day when you were at our place. The looks you two kept giving each other. I knew something was going on.”
I purse my lips. I muster up a weak denial. “There’s no fire.”
“I think you’re protesting a little too much.” She leans forward. “But I don’t get why you’re mad at him. Seems to me he did nothing wrong.”
She’s right. Why did that fight upset me so much?
I drop my gaze to the table. “I was scared,” I admit. “I was afraid he was going to get hurt.”
“Ah-ha.”
“And I felt guilty. Because it was all my fault. I felt responsible for what happened. I did want Manny to know I was leaving with JP, but I never intended it to turn into a brawl!” I beg for forgiveness with my eyes and Lacey shakes her head, smiling.
“I don’t want anything to do with guys who get into fistfights at weddings. So don’t worry. If I ever see JP again, it’ll be fine. And hey, I’ve been back on the dating app and there are a few guys who seem interesting.”
JP
“Sorry about the wedding.”
Grandpa shrugs. He’s pruning a shrub with bright orange and yellow flowers in his backyard. He and Chelsea live in a big Spanish-style two-story house on a huge lot, not far from the arena in Santa Monica. Grandpa has developed a fondness for gardening and the backyard is spectacular, the shimmering turquoise pool surrounded by paving stones and a perfect green lawn, palm trees, shrubs, and flowers lining the perimeter. It’s a bit of a trek from my place to his, but I made the drive this sunny Sunday, a day off for me and for him as well, I assumed.
“Not my wedding,” he says. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Yeah.” I hate it that Grandpa thinks less of me. He was pissed about me dating Théo’s ex-girlfriend, and I don’t want him to be pissed about this too. “What is that plant?”
“Lantana.”
“I like it.”
He gives me a look laced with skepticism. “Really?”
I don’t have a clue about plants. “Sure.”
“Why’d Martinez start that fight?”
I sigh. “I didn’t realize he and Taylor were going out.”
Grandpa drops his shears and fixes me with a hard stare. “Jesus Christ, JP. You have to stop hitting on other men’s girlfriends.”
“I wasn’t!” I hold up my hands, then drop them and bow my head. “I didn’t know, I swear.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No.” My words are bitter. “Women.”
He lets out a gusty breath. “True. What really happened with Emma?”
I’m kind of surprised he remembers her name. “She told me she and Théo had broken up.”
“You never mentioned that before.”
“It didn’t exactly come up in the conversation.” We’re both thinking of the family party Mom and Dad held to welcome Théo to California after he took the job managing Grandpa’s team. Grandpa had given me shit for dating Théo’s ex. “And it didn’t matter. I shouldn’t have gone out with her, even if they did break up. But I didn’t steal her from him.”
He scrunches up his face. “Are you sure?”
“What the fuck?” I gape at him. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“You and Théo were always close, but there’s also a rivalry between you.”
I stare at him. I don’t like the thought that he knew that; that he knew I always felt like I couldn’t live up to Théo. “Okay,” I acknowledge quietly. “Maybe I did like the fact that Emma was interested in me.” Ugh. I hate myself. “But I didn’t go after her.”
“And you didn’t know that bridesmaid was dating Martinez?”
I frown. “No. I swear. She wasn’t there with him the night before the wedding.” She came up to my hotel room and we banged all night. “She wasn’t wearing a ring. I’m not a complete moron.”
Grandpa barks out a laugh and trims another branch. “No, you’re not. You just don’t always think through the consequences of what you do.”
“I already got this lecture from Théo.”
“Good.”
“I just wanted you to know that . . . aw fuck, I hate even saying the words.”
“What words?”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
He cocks his head. “You may not make the best decisions, but you always take responsibility for them.”
I lift my chin. “Yeah.”
He eyes me shrewdly. “Sometimes you take responsibility when it’s really not your fault. I know you were trying to protect your teammate when you got in that fight last year.”
I nod slowly. “I’m trying to do better, Grandpa. Really. I’m trying to make better decisions, on the ice and off. I screwed up with Théo and I’m not going to do that again. I really didn’t know there was anything between Taylor and Martinez, and he started that fight out of the blue. I mean . . . I had to fight back.” I grimace.
“Of course.” He nods. “Also, you cleaned his clock.”
I shouldn’t like it, but damn, I do enjoy his approval. “And I’m trying to do better on the ice, too. Control my emotions better.”
“Passion is a good thing. But it can also be a curse.”
I wait for him to say more, wanting his words of wisdom. Grandpa may be old and Théo worries about his decision-making lately, but he’s learned a lot over the years.
“The same kind of drive that leads to success can also be destructive,” he continues. “You can be so passionate about what you’re doing, you end up wrapping your whole identity in it and losing sight of the real reason for why you’re doing it in the first place.” He pauses.
I frown and nod slowly. “Because I love the game.”
“Yeah. We all love the game. But the best athletes in the world are at the top because they can control their emotions rather than their emotions controlling them.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. I guess I have some stuff to think about.”
His chuckle is dry. “You’ve already been thinking about them. How about lunch?”
“Okay.” We head inside, where Chelsea’s in the kitchen.
She looks different than when I usually see her, with her hair and makeup perfect, dressed in expensive clothes. Today she’s wearing jeans, a tank top, and flip-flops, and her face looks even younger with no makeup. She smiles at me when Grandpa tells her I’m staying for lunch. “Great.”
We eat out on the patio. Chelsea serves a salad with lots of healthy greens, chicken, and avocado, and pours us glasses of fresh juice that’s orange in color but is actually orange, pineapple, and carrot juice.
“Tons of nutrients,” she says, setting a glass in front of me.
“Good, I need that.”
Grandpa and I talk about my summer in Montréal and the workouts I did to stay in shape. He shakes his head. “Times have changed,” he mutters. “Training camp used to be when we got back in shape.”
“Can’t do that now,” I say. “If you show up at training camp fat and lazy, you’re gonna be in trouble.”
“They shouldn’t even call it training camp anymore. Did you know it was Conn Smythe who invented training camp?”
“No. No, I did not.”
“That was back in the twenties, after he bought the Maple Leafs. Well, they weren’t the Leafs; he changed the name to that. Made the players do a bunch of workouts and hikes and calisthenics. Guys complained, but they did it. Those guys didn’t even take their skates home with them at the end of the season!” He chortles. “In my day it started changing; they started doing more scrimmages as a way to see who should make the team.”
I’ve heard some of his stories before, but I still enjoy them. “Didn’t you refuse to sign up one year?”
“Yeah.” He grins and pokes his fork into a piece of avocado. “I thought I was worth more than they were offering. It was the day of the first game of the season when Joe Black, the Leafs’ CEO, met me in the lobby of Maple Leaf Gardens before the game and said if anyone recognized me, he’d give me what I wanted. No one did.” His grin goes crooked. “So I signed the contract, an hour before the game started.”
I laugh. I love hearing these tales of how hockey used to be, and Grandpa’s full of them. “Was that before expansion?”
“Yeah. There were only six teams and not many spots for rookies. What the hell was I thinking?” He shakes his head.
“You were thinking you were a good player,” Chelsea says. “And you proved it.”
Grandpa snorts, but he and Chelsea exchange a look, and I’m struck by the affection between them.
A lot of my family thinks Chelsea married Grandpa for his money. But they’ve been married almost thirty years and have four kids together, so it has to be more than that. Grandpa’s still pretty fit for an old guy . . . Ugh. I don’t want to think about Grandpa’s sex life.
After lunch, I drive back home, but as I’m passing Marina del Rey, I impulsively take the exit off the 405 that leads to Théo’s place. I have no idea if he and Lacey are even home, but since I’m close, I decide to stop in.
Nobody answers the doorbell, but I hear voices on the beach, so I step onto the sand. Shading my eyes from the sun, I stare across the sand. Yeah, that’s Théo over at one of the volleyball nets. And Lacey. And Taylor.
Damn.
Théo spots me and waves both arms in the air, then gestures for me to come over. I’m not dressed for beach volleyball, in jeans, loafers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I lower my sunglasses to my nose, kick off my shoes, and trudge through the soft sand toward them. The sun is bright but not hot, a cool autumn breeze blowing in off the ocean.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Théo calls as I get nearer.
“Not much. Just had lunch with Grandpa and Chelsea, and since I was passing by, I decided to stop in.”
“Cool.” Théo slings an arm around my shoulders. “I’d ask how Grandpa is, but I just saw him yesterday.” He pauses. “And Chelsea. She spent most of the afternoon in Grandpa’s office.”
“Huh. That’s weird.” I like Chelsea, but the rest of the family doesn’t trust her. “She do that often?”
“I’ve seen here there a few times.” Théo shrugs. “Wanna play some volleyball?”
Taylor is on the other side of the net. She’s not wearing a bikini, but even so she looks amazing in a pair of short shorts and a tank top, her legs long and bare. Her volleyball partner is a kid . . . a girl about eight or ten years old. “Looks like you have four players already.”
“You can play with three,” Théo says, meaning I can join Taylor and the girl.
“This is Ava,” Taylor says, setting her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “She lives next door to me.”
“Hi, Ava.”
“Ava, this is JP.”
Ava smiles. “Hi.”
“I’ll just watch,” I say, although I’d definitely rather play.
“I’m not very good,” Ava says, wrinkling her nose. “You can play with Taylor.”
Oh yeah . . . I’d love to play with Taylor.
“You’re just learning,” Taylor objects. “And you’re doing great. You made a great save.”
Ava’s smile beams as she turns her gaze back on Taylor. Cute kid.
“I’ll come over there,” Lacey says, ducking under the net. “Boys against the girls.”
“Okay, then.” I join my brother and we high-five. “Like this is going to be fair,” I mutter to him.
He grins and bends over, hands on his knees.
Taylor has the ball. She moves into position and tosses the ball a couple of times, eyeing us across the net. I smile.
She serves with a graceful arc of her arm and the ball comes toward me. I move with arms outstretched to bump it and it soars back over the net. Lacey gets it, bumping it into the air, and Taylor rushes the net, leaps up, and spikes the ball with vicious force straight into the sand at my feet.
I stare at it.