Page 1 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

Chapter One

LILA

K atie owes me big time.

I hop off the train, weaving through the crowd, dodging puddles on the crowded brown-line platform.

I only agreed to go out after my best friend had begged, literally on her knees with big puppy dog eyes, to show me how important tonight was to her.

She wouldn’t say why it was so important that we go out; we’re not even going anywhere special.

She asked to meet at our regular bar. We’ve been going there since grad school as a joke to meet guys, because nothing screams desperate like going to a sports bar and waiting for a man to hit on you. Somewhere along the way it became our spot, boys watching sports be damned.

Maybe she finally clinched that commercial job she was excited about. That would certainly be worth celebrating on a dreary Thursday night. I plaster a smile on my face as I round the corner that brings Cornerside, my favorite bar, into view.

I spot Ray working the door and give him a small wave. He meets my smile with a wink, jerking his head at the door behind him.

“Thanks Ray,” I say, the tension in my jaw loosening. Ray always makes sure I get in an Uber on my way home and that I have a bottle of water for the ride. Beneath that black t-shirt and pounds of scary, tattoo-covered muscle, he’s a big softie.

I step inside the bar, glancing around the dim interior, the bright TVs on the walls providing just enough light to see by, until I spot a familiar black bob sitting at the bar. As I weave my way over to Katie between the busy tables, my watch buzzes. My heart sinks as I read the message preview.

Dennis

Babe, I’m sorry. . .

I sigh, the sour taste of disappointment crawling up my throat as I sit at the bar beside Katie and open the full message on my phone.

Dennis

Babe, I’m sorry. You know how crazy this client is, I think I just need some space to focus on work right now.I think we should take some time apart. Just for a little while.

I roll my eyes. What kind of idiot do I have to be to think it would actually work out this time around?

“What’s up?” Katie asks, slurping her already half-empty martini and throwing a pointed look to the phone clutched in my hand.

“Dennis said he needs space to focus on work,” I spit out. “As if I don’t know what it’s like to have a stressful job.”

“What’re you drinking?” asks the bartender—a new guy I don’t recognize—giving my pissed expression a wary look.

Katie jumps in. “G&T, Bombay, make it a double.” I grimace at her.

“On my tab, please.”She ignores my objection, giving the bartender a grin as he sets the drink down onto the bar.

She swivels in her stool to face me. “I don’t get why you’re still with him.

You guys have been off and on since he moved to New York.

It’s not like he’s making any effort to move back. Do you want to leave Chicago?”

“Well definitely not to move there, ew.” I hate New York.

It’s covered in trash with rats crawling in every subway station.

No amount of Broadway shows or celebrity run-ins could make me want to leave Chicago.

It doesn’t matter how good the pizza is.

“Besides if I ever left you, you’d probably drag me back. ”

Katie laughs before giving a sigh. “At least we could go to fashion week.” She sets down her empty glass. “Well, since you clearly need cheering up, I have plans for us tonight.”

A battle starts raging in my head, the angel and devil on my shoulders shouting at each other over the noise of the bar.

On the one hand, there is absolutely nothing I’d rather do than forget that my boyfriend— ex -boyfriend—couldn’t balance our relationship and his job, but it’s Thursday, and being hungover at work is only getting harder as I get older.

“What kind of plans, Katie? It’s a school night.”

“The kind I knew you wouldn’t agree to if I had told you ahead of time.”

I groan, running through my current outfit situation, how I might turn it from corporate to club appropriate, which is clearly where we’re headed if Katie’s Cheshire grin is anything to go by.

“Katie, I’m not dressed?—”

She shoves a bag at my chest. “Go change and drink this,” she says, putting my mostly full gin and tonic into my hands. “I’ll get you a refill.”

I sigh. If I’m already here, I might as well have fun.

I down my drink, shuddering slightly. The bartender is heavy handed tonight.

I glare at Katie who smirks, popping the stuffed olive from her drink into her mouth.

Giving up, I turn and stalk through the crowded bar toward the ladies’ room at the back.

She can’t possibly be serious.

I’m standing in the large stall, gaping at the outfit Katie picked.

I’m no prude, but I’m also not twenty-one anymore, not by a long shot.

Dresses like this are usually reserved for that short stretch of time when your adult metabolism hasn’t yet caught up with your college drinking habits.

I pull on the black bandage dress with a sigh, shaking my head at the four-inch red-bottoms she chose and trade out my mules.

Walking up toward the mirror at the sink, I grab the small pink pouch from Katie’s bag, finding everything needed to refresh my face after a long day.

I quickly touch up my makeup in the mirror, giving my hair one last fluff before tossing my work clothes into the bag and marching out of the washroom, both more and less confident in my appearance than I was twenty minutes ago.

I carefully make my way back through the bar, stumbling only once in the clearly brand-new shoes. Katie’s on the phone when I finally get back to the bar, but as promised, a fresh drink sits on the counter in front of my empty seat. I drop the bag onto Katie’s lap and take a sip.

“Right, see you soon.” She giggles. My eyebrows shoot up, understanding why I’ve been left in the dark about this evening’s plans. Katie isn’t one to giggle on the phone. She hangs up, and I stare at her until she relents.

“They’re going to meet us there,” she explains, answering my unspoken question as she opens her Uber app.

“Who is meeting us where?” I take an extra-large gulp of the fresh G&T, only barely suppressing another shudder. I silently apologize for judging thirty-year-olds so harshly at Carrie Underwood karaoke nights in middle school. It’s not even whiskey, and I’m still struggling.

“I finally finished Theo’s condo, so he invited us out to celebrate.” Right, Theo McClane, star wide receiver for the Chicago Avalanche and childhood classmate of the one and only Katie Chen. “I accepted on both our behalves.”

Katie went to an elite prep school in New York and graduated knowing several current household names, many of whom are all too happy to support her budding career as an interior designer.

She branched off from her mother’s Los Angeles-based firm once we finished graduate school, wanting to focus on a different level of clientele.

Theo is just the latest of many sports stars, B-list celebrities, and C-Suite executives Katie has persuaded into being a client.

It helps that she’s actually good at her job.

She specializes in luxury high rises, and with her background, she has access to many professional athletes and corporate executives who don’t want to put down too many roots.

She’s constantly attending galas and games courtesy of her clients, sometimes bringing me along for the ride.

I used to always jump at the chance, because who doesn’t love free food and drinks with the excuse to dress up or enjoy a free game, but it turns out some of her clients are absolute assholes.

Theo’s one of the exceptions though. We’ve been out before a couple times with their other classmates from school, and he and Katie have stayed close, which means, by association, he’s been brought into my own circle. Thankfully he’s funny.

He’s been on my mind a bit more than usual with our workplace fantasy football league, as he keeps putting up double digits every week. If only I’d actually managed to snag him in the draft.

“Uber’s two minutes away.” She hops down off her stool. “Finish that,” she says, pointing at the half-full drink in my hand, “and let’s go.” She snatches up her bag, now full of my clothes, and leaves me to follow her out to the street after chugging a second drink in less than an hour.

The black Escalade pulls up in front of the bar, and Katie double checks the license plate before sliding in. I climb in after her as she pulls out her compact and lipstick to touch up her pout and clip a few pieces of hair back out of her face.

I lean my head back against the seat and stare out at the city as we creep through the traffic.

The bustle of people moving between work and home brings the city to life amongst the lights sparkling from the skyscrapers downtown.

My cheeks are buzzing, and I press my forehead against the cool window.

I managed a late lunch at the office, but it’s not holding up well against the gin.

At least the idea of Dennis isn’t quite so painful anymore.

Though it hurts less and less each time we break up.

I wish I could figure out if it’s because I’m more confident we’ll get back together or if I’m not letting myself care quite as deeply each time we inevitably make up.

She closes the compact with a snap that jolts me from my melancholy. Katie turns toward me, inspecting my face for the first time since using her makeup in the bathroom.

“Well don’t you clean up nicely,” Katie praises, making me roll my eyes. “No, I’m serious you came straight from work, and even just the change of clothes and some new lip color makes such a difference.”

“Katie, it was your makeup. You put it in the bag.”

“So? I didn’t force you to use it.”