Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (48 page)

It’s a Los Angeles area code, but other than that nothing about the digits is familiar.

I’m coming back at four. Please tell Dana to arrange for the car to pick me up.

“Oh,” I say to myself, suddenly realizing who it is.

“What?” Dana asks from across the desk.

I show her the phone. “I guess this is Mr. Mulroney.”

She pushes her glasses further up her nose and reads the text. “Yeah, it is… hm. Weird.”

She goes back to her computer.

“What?” I ask.

“He could have just called me.”

My eyes drop down. Yeah, he could have. I didn’t know he even had my cell phone number. I send him a text back.

I told her.

Less than a minute later, the phone buzzes.

Thanks. See you soon.

My chest swells as I read the text. My thumbs hover over the keypad, wanting to send another text — any text. I don’t, of course. I slip the phone into my bag on the floor, then kick the entire thing a few feet away in case my thumbs decide to cause trouble.

I should know better than to read into a simple text message… but he seems to be making a point to reach out to me and be friendly. And this, after an entire work week of me thinking he might not ever want to see my face again.

Five minutes pass and I cave, checking my cell just to see if he texted to let me know if he needs anything else.

There are no messages. I hate how disappointed the blank screen makes me feel.

Since Mr. Mulroney is coming back at the end of the day, Chuck and Daniel wait around. When five o’clock arrives, he still isn’t there.

Daniel sighs. “He could bother to tell us he’s not coming back.”

“Yeah,” Chuck adds. “It’s Friday.”

Dana rolls her eyes at me as the guys leave.

“Are you still coming tonight?” I ask her.

“I’ll be there.”

“Do you have the address?”

She rifles through some papers on the desk. “The flyer is around here somewhere. I’ll text you if I can’t find it.”

“Okay.” I stand and grab my bag. “Bye.”

*

A heavy cloud of hairspray hits my face the second I open the apartment’s front door.

“Wow,” I mutter, waving a hand around to try and dispel the heavy fumes. “Is anyone still alive in here?”

“Barely!” Crystal’s voice comes from the living room. “Send Twinkies and DVDs! This is going to take a while!”

She stands in the middle of the living room with Eryk perched on one of the kitchen stools in front of her. Even sitting on the stool, he still comes up past her shoulder. Crystal busily winds locks of the mermaid colored wig around a curling iron, spraying each strand with the aerosol hairspray. It looks like someone devoured a Beauty Supply and then threw up all over the floor and coffee table. Makeup brushes, lipsticks, bobby pins, styling gels, and a plethora of other supplies litter the area.

I step over Crystal’s big black makeup case and sit on the couch. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” Eryk winks at me.

“Are you nervous?”

He takes a deep breath. “A lady never admits to nerves.”

“Really? Damn, I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life.”

Crystal nibbles her lip and looks over at me while wrapping a new piece of hair around the curling iron. “Did Brendan say anything to you about tonight?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Let me guess. You invited him tonight as well?”

“Way
before what happened on Tuesday.”

“So you mean you invited him on Monday?”

She grimaces.

“It’s okay. I can handle it… as long as it’s okay with you guys.”

I look at Eryk, who shrugs. “It will be good for him.”

Crystal pats our friend on the shoulder and wraps another curl. “A little culture shock never hurt anybody.”

*

Eryk leaves early to get himself checked in, and Crystal and I stay behind to get changed. When I come into her room wearing ballet flats, skinny jeans, and a black t-shirt, she stares at me, her mouth slightly hanging open.

“You’re not dressing up tonight?”

“Crystal,”
I whine. “Come on. Don’t be like that. Besides, what do you call these?” I point at my shoes. “They’re not sneakers. I’m trying here.”

She cracks a grin and turns back to the floor length mirror to finish her eyeliner. “Just leave the backpack at home, okay?”

“I can’t make any promises. It’s sewn to my shoulder.”

The surprising thing about Crystal is that she has two distinct styles, and they’re literally on opposite ends of the fashion spectrum. She’s either wearing yoga pants and a tank top or she’s wearing heels and a mini skirt that would make most women blush.

Tonight she’s got on a tight skirt covered in pink feathers. She finishes her makeup and continues to look in the mirror while she teases out her hair.

“Are you seeing that girl again?” I ask, already having forgotten the name of the one who came for dinner.

She makes a face. “I don’t know. She’s kind of religious.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I normally wouldn’t mind, but she also told me a story about her childhood cat that lasted fifteen minutes.”

“How?”

She exhales for at least ten seconds. “It was heavily detailed. Apparently she has a photographic memory.” She pauses. “It’s so hard to find someone good.”

“I would have thought it would be easier when you’re bi. Twice the choices.”

“Twice the letdowns,” she corrects me.

She takes a step backwards and turns to the side, studying her back. “What’s up with Mr. Mulroney?”

I lean against the doorway. I don’t like the segue from Crystal’s dating life to Mr. Mulroney. It makes it seem like he and I are some sort of thing, and thinking about such an occurrence is a stab in the heart.

“He’s been gone all week.”

“Where?”

“Some trip.”

She catches my eye in the mirror, and she must get the hint that I don’t really want to talk about him because she gives me the tiniest of sympathetic smiles and doesn’t say anything else.

We leave together in her car, and I take the opportunity to close my eyes and let my hand hang out the window to ride the wind in between stoplights. I prop my feet up on the dashboard for good measure and enjoy the sounds of the nighttime city throbbing all around us.

“Did you invite anyone?” I ask Crystal while she parallel parks.

She sticks her tongue out as she wedges the car between the lines. “Yeah, but I don’t think anyone from work is going to come.” She kills the engine and pulls the parking brake up. “Everyone at the rec center is pretty square. Maybe it’s the polos.”

“Or the khakis.”

“Those too.”

“You shouldn’t have told them it was a drag show.”

“Hah. What was I supposed to say?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Bible study class?” I check the time on my phone. “We should hurry. It’s starting soon.”

Crystal unbuckles her seat belt. “Eh. These things always start late. Half the crowd won’t even get there till fifteen minutes past.”

We leave the car and head down the sidewalk to Micky’s. There are a few people outside, but the place doesn’t give off the packed vibe I thought it would. We pay the cover charge and slip in.

A top forty hit plays as people mill about, covering close to half of the floor. The makeshift stage in the middle is cut off from the crowd below it by a red velvet rope.

The ripped man shaking a drink mixer behind the bar catches my eye. I grab Crystal’s arm. “The bartenders aren’t wearing clothes,” I hiss.

She laughs. “Look closer. They’ve got speedos on.”

I look again and catch a bit of black between the man’s thighs.

“Sydney!” someone calls.

It’s Dana, winding her way towards us. She’s got on more makeup than she usually does and is dressed more casually too, with a t-shirt bearing a kitschy photo of a cat. In her hand is a glass tumbler of some kind of liquor.

“Hey!” I shriek, genuinely enthused. “You came. That’s so awesome.”

She nods and tucks a pink strand behind her ear. “It’s neat here.”

“Dana, this is my roommate, Crystal.”

They wave their hellos to each other.

Dana sips on her tiny black straw. “Are you going to get a drink? When does the show start?”

“It’s supposed to be in five minutes,” Crystal says.

“So in thirty.”

“Right,” Crystal laughs. “I’m going to the bar. Sydney, do you want anything?”

“No thanks.” I wave her off. “I don’t really feel like drinking tonight.”

Dana edges closer to me after Crystal leaves. “Do you know when your roommate is up?”

“He said that he’s third, I think. There are six contestants all together.”

“I mentioned this to Chuck and Daniel again today.”

I laugh. “And what did they say?”

“Nothing bad.” She pauses. “But I’m willing to bet they’re not coming.”

“That’s fine. I knew they probably wouldn’t. Oh, that reminds me.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “My friend Brendan is coming.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“No,” I murmur, slipping the quiet phone back in my jeans. “He’s not usually late to things.”

“Is he a special friend?” She sucks on the end of her straw and winks at me.

“Many, many moons ago.”

“Aw. Sorry. That’s sad.” She cocks her head and sways on her feet.

“It’s okay.” I wonder how many drinks she’s had.

Dana crinkles her nose. “Hey, that guy looks like…” Her mouth falls open. “Oh my God! It
is
him!”

“What?” I whip my head in the direction she’s staring. The only thing there is a dark wall and bobbing heads.

She grabs my arm with her free hand. “It’s Mr. Mulroney!”

The words spin around in my head, soon followed by the floor and the walls of the nightclub. “Wh-what?” I stutter.

I start to turn around again, but she grabs me and hauls butt behind a large column. “Ugh. Don’t let him see us. What’s he doing at a gay club anyway?”

I open my mouth, hoping all the cotton balls that seem to be stuffed in there will come tumbling out. Instead, it just gets drier. I have a feeling Mr. Mulroney’s appearance at Micky’s is anything but coincidental.

“I don’t want him to know we’re here,” Dana continues. “I’ve had enough of him for one day. I had to wait around at the office till he got there. It was, like, seven before I left. I barely had time to go home and shower…”

She presses herself further behind the column. “Oh my God. You know what? Maybe he’s gay. I never thought about that. He probably comes here to pick up dudes.”

“I don’t think he’s gay.”

“Then what? He’s here to see the show?”

I stare point blank at her. “Yes.” My vowel is a mile long.

Realization dawns on her face. “You invited him?”

“No.” I furiously shake my head. “No, I didn’t. He must have found one of the fliers at the office, or heard us talking about it. God.” I press my palm against my eye.

“Hey, Sydney, relax. It’s not a big deal. We’ll just ignore him the whole night. He’s an asshole to come here. I mean, as if we don’t see enough of him during the week.”

“Right,” I agree, pressing my trembling hands together. “We’ll ignore him. We’ll forget about him.”

My words sound so weak. Not since the first day I laid eyes on that man have I been able to forget about him.

“I just don’t get
why
he would come,” Dana says, her eyes darting around the room. “He could fly to anywhere in the world he wanted for the weekend. Why would he come here?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

Either to hurt me or win me over.

But he doesn’t need to do either one of those things. He said he would let things be between us… Didn’t he? Or maybe all he said was he would treat me better, and I misinterpreted the words.

I don’t understand anything anymore. I haven’t since the first day I walked into his office.

“Heeeey!” Crystal is back, two drinks in her hands. “I know you said you didn’t want a drink, but I got you one anyway. It’s your favorite.”

I take the gin and tonic and slam it down, swallowing the entire contents of the glass in a few gulps.

“Jesus, Sydney,” Crystal says, her mouth open. “This isn’t a competition. Are you okay?”

I set the empty glass down on a nearby cocktail table. “I’m fine.”

Dana and Crystal are looking at me like I’m loony.

“I saw Brendan come in,” Crystal says.

I bite my lip. For a minute there — amidst the Mulroney fervor — I forgot all about Brendan. “Where is he?”

Crystal sips her drink. “I don’t know.”

“Is this Brendan cute?” Dana asks.

“He’s decent,” Crystal says. “He’s got a bit of a Southern gentleman thing going for him.”

“Like
Gone With the Wind?”

“Not quite. More like Flannery O’Connor.”

“Everyone’s poor in Flannery O’Connor, and they don’t know how to speak right.”

“Do they? Wasn’t there that one story…”

Their words fade away until I can barely hear the conversation. I’m too busy scanning the club for signs of Mr. Mulroney. My heartbeat quickens until its volume surpasses that of the music. When I finally find him, our eyes lock and he immediately heads for me.

It’s a cliché moment, just like one from the movies. Time slows down and everything gradually blurs till he’s the only visible person in the club.

The words he left me with in the office on Monday have taken on new meaning.

I just don’t know what that meaning is. All I know is he’s unexpectedly here, and it’s not because he wants to assert his authority or make me feel bad. Surely, he’s here because he wants to be.

I don’t want to get my hopes up, but with each foot he gains across the floor, it’s harder and harder not to.

In his gray t-shirt and slightly messy, wavy hair no one would ever guess the man making his way towards me is head of a major film production company. Dressed down, he seems younger than he usually does. If it weren’t for his extreme good looks, he would blend into the crowd, becoming just another young person dancing and drinking to forget.

Dana and Crystal fall silent as he approaches. A few feet away from me, he stops. The four of us stand like dummies, staring at each other, waiting for someone to pull our strings and make us talk.