Deep Blue (11 page)

Instead of staring at the front door, waiting for Gen to return in order to interrogate her about her date with the guy I have a crush on, I check email. Two messages have arrived from Harvard Law, one with information on orientation, the other on financial aid.

It almost makes me angry how much the program will cost. I’ve considered deferring for a year, though that’s almost more painful. Like dragging out the inevitable. I never considered the money until this summer, working full-time for the first time in my life. The tuition isn’t a problem for the trust fund kids, but it is for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have ruled out the less expensive programs. But that doesn’t feel right either.

Law school is everything I’ve worked for, but lately it feels like someone else’s dream. The cost to attend would probably seem worth it if the program were something I felt passionate about. My mom used to joke about Tyler and me becoming lawyers and doctors, but really, she didn’t care what we became, as long as we made something of our lives. Tyler was the science geek, while I latched onto the idea of arguing for a living. That was a good enough reason ten years ago. Now, with a future in law staring me in the eye, I’m having second—and third—and fourth—thoughts.

My head’s messed up. I’m so confused and emotionally wrung out I don’t know which way is up. I shut off the computer, change my clothes, and grab the keys to Gen’s car. It won’t help my mood to be here when they return.

I search the fridge and jot down a list of groceries we need. Before I head to the store, I stop by the bank to deposit my tips, which consist of a hell of a lot of singles. Most of my tips come in the form of chips, but there are purists who give cash. According to the bank teller, I’m either working at the casinos or I’m a stripper. I’m keeping her guessing.

A farmer’s market is going on in the bank lot, so I park across the street. As I exit my car, a man in crew sandals, beige shorts, and sunglasses exits a motel nearby with a woman I recognize from the casino. She’s the sweet waitress who was crushing on the cashier.

Head down, she walks out of the motel room without a backward glance at the man. There’s a swagger in the man’s step that’s missing from the woman’s rapid departure.

I stare until they’re gone, because the scene bothers me. The waitress looked seriously upset. Obviously, she and this guy are having some sort of liaison. What’s disturbing, aside from the fact that the woman didn’t look happy, is that I think the guy is one of the executives from the casino who trolls Gen’s lounge.

I shake my head. I have too much to worry about without piling on creepy Casino Real World drama.

The errands take less time than I anticipated and I return to the house early—just as Gen exits Jaeger’s truck.

My timing sucks.

Jaeger walks around the hood and nods. “Cali,” he says, a happy little smile curling his mouth. He walks with Gen toward the front door, but reaches over as he passes and grabs one of the large grocery bags from my arms. “Let me get that.” He relieves me of the second bag as well.

“Okaaay.”
I should be grateful for the help, but Jaeger looks too pleased after his date with my best friend and I’m trying extremely hard not to be jealous.

It’s not working.

I follow them inside the cabin and Jaeger sets the groceries on the counter.

Gen and Jaeger look at me and then at each other, a secret message passing between them. Gen grins warmly up at Jaeger, and that’s all I need to see.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” I say and cross to the back door. I want to be anywhere but watching the two of them say their lovey good-byes.

“I’ll see you later, Gen,” I hear Jaeger say as I open the back door and step onto the patio.

Gen joins me seconds later. “Hey.” There’s a quiver in her voice that only comes out when she’s nervous. “What have you been up to?”

What have I been up to? I’m fucking dying, trying to keep busy because you’re with the guy I want to kiss and make out with and glue myself to!

I wave toward the bags of groceries warming on the kitchen counter. “Errands.”

Gen sits in the lounge beside me and pulls up her knees, feet flat on the plastic chaise.

“How about you. How was your date?”

She looks over nervously. “Fine. It wasn’t a date, though. We were just getting together. He wanted to show me something.”

I’m sure he did. She doesn’t elaborate and I’m feeling too stubborn to ask for more information.

“Cali, I was wondering—can I have that sketch you did today?”

What? That’s what she’s thinking about? We are seriously in two different worlds right now. In fact, there’s a deep chasm in our friendship that I’m responsible for. If I hadn’t dragged Gen to Lake Tahoe this summer, none of this would have happened. Eric and I probably would have broken up, but at least I wouldn’t be in a love triangle with
my best friend
.

“Why?” I ask, because the request seems odd under the circumstances. There’s no way Gen can’t feel the strain in our friendship. Or maybe, because I’m the one who caused the problem, I’m the only one who knows it exists. I never ’fessed up to my feelings for Jaeger. I’ve been too busy denying them.

She brushes nonexistent dirt off her shorts. “I don’t know. I just liked it.”

“Sure, Gen,” I say harshly, rising as I do. I’m taking out my anger on her and she doesn’t deserve it, but I can’t help myself. “Have whatever of mine you want.” I walk inside the house, grab the pad, and toss it on her lap.

Her lips part, her expression shocked.

I don’t say anything. I don’t put away the groceries. I simply walk out the front door and leave.

I apologized to Gen for going off on her—after I spent three hours throwing hand-sized rocks into the lake. My arm was sore for two days after that. I told Gen I’d had a bad day, and though she inquired as to the cause, she didn’t insist I elaborate when I made it obvious through avoidance tactics that I didn’t want to discuss it. Not my most mature moment, but what else could I do?

Gen said her afternoon with Jaeger wasn’t a date, but why would Jaeger ask her out if he wasn’t interested? And he seemed so happy afterward. I’m not convinced there isn’t something there. I can’t tell her how I feel about Jaeger until I know nothing is between them. I won’t put her in an uncomfortable position.

Jaeger has come into the casino a couple of times this week to visit Mason since his non-date with Gen. Each time, he’s kept to Mason’s bar, which gives credence to Gen’s assertion that they’re not dating, though she is busy at work. And every time he’s around, my heart quickens and my body heats. No matter what I tell myself—that it won’t work out, I screwed things up and he’s not interested—my body’s visceral response doesn’t care. It’s infuriating.

I just got out of a relationship; I should be going all introspective and loner. At the very least, deciding whether or not to follow through with grad school. Instead, I’m conflicted about school and thinking clearly about the kind of guy I want in my life.

Eric was good looking, but shallow and—I realize now—selfish. Why I think Mr. Totem Pole Carver is any better is beyond me, but there’s something about him that’s deep and a little scarred. Like he’s been through shit and come out on the right side. This, in addition to the fact that puddles of drool form in my mouth whenever I look at him, and I’m drawn—even though he may be dating my best friend. Maybe they’re not dating—yet—but she could like him. I never told Gen how I felt about Jaeger. Nope, I pushed him right in her path. It’s a freaking mess.

This evening, Jaeger’s been in Gen’s lounge for the last hour with an attractive, slightly older woman with long dark hair and a petite figure. At first, I thought she was one of his mom’s friends by the way they greeted each other—cordially, but with familiarity. She’s dressed in a black sheath dress with diamonds the size of pebbles in her ears. She’s younger than his parents, but her expensive attire fits his parents’ upper economic bracket. The more I observe, though, the less certain I am that they’re only friends.

A man in dress slacks and a polo shirt passes my table and walks up the stairs into the lounge to Jaeger and the woman. The pretty brunette places a proprietary hand on Jaeger’s arm and introduces the two men.

I’m ready to gouge her eyes out.

I glance at Gen, who laughs at something her customer says. She’s not paying attention to the Jaeger tableau, and I can’t understand it. I’d like to detach the roulette table and mow the lady down like a bowling pin and Gen’s all casual, easygoing. What the eff?

Jaeger shakes the man’s hand and offers him a card.

He carries business cards? For his totem poles?

Jaeger is dressed in dark slacks and a white collared shirt, the top button undone and revealing the edge of a white undershirt. I’ve never seen him dressed up and the image disturbs me. His wide shoulders strain the fabric along his chest, highlighting muscles while still looking professional. He makes weathered jeans and T-shirts unbelievably hot, but dressed up, he’s like
GQ
photo-spread man candy.

The woman he’s with seems too old for him, but I have to admit they look good together, and it’s eating me up inside. The only positive I can think of at the moment is that Gen and I get off early tonight and our shift is about to end.

A cluster of new dealers approaches the pit and I finish my round. Before heading to the basement, I walk over to Gen. “You almost off?” I don’t glance at Jaeger, seated in the corner.

Gen piles four shots of bright green liquid on her tray. “In a minute—just need to deliver these. You still up for the club?”

In spite of a herculean effort, my gaze strays toward Jaeger. The business associate has left and the woman has her fingers on Jaeger’s forearm, using his body for support while she leans in to tell him something. “Yes. I need—something.”

Gen’s eyes widen in approval. “I’m
so
happy you aren’t letting things with Eric get you down.” She charges off and passes out the last of her drinks, closing tabs.

Eric? Nope, not thinking about Eric—a testament to the tenuous connection we shared and proof it wasn’t meant to last.

Gen returns to the bar and wipes her tray. “You sure you don’t mind if Nessa joins us?”

“No,” I say absently. “Hey—” I shrug my shoulder in Jaeger’s direction. “That doesn’t bother you?”

Gen glances over. “What, Jaeger and that woman? Why would it?”

“I thought you guys were, you know, hanging out.”

Gen hands a stack of dollar bills to the bartender. Waitresses give bartenders a percentage of their tips at the end of the shift. Her gaze flutters to me and her shoulders tense as though she’s uncomfortable. “We’re friends.”

Gen and I have never kept secrets from one another, but lately there’s an entire ocean of hidden truths. I’m not ready or willing to disclose mine, and I’ve sensed for a while that she’s keeping things from me too. For some reason, this doesn’t bother me as much as it should. I don’t know what revealing the truth would do to our friendship, and I’m not ready to find out.

Gen and I change in the Blue basement, where we discover Nessa has invited someone else to our girls’ night. Lewis’s beautiful girlfriend, Mira, will be joining us.

This should be interesting.

I’m wearing heels, skinny jeans, and a blousy, low-cut tank. Gen’s in slim jeans, as well, but her top is less revealing. Her boobs are bigger than mine, but she refuses to display them to full advantage.

The only way to get to the Blue nightclub is by passing the lounge. I tell myself I won’t peek, but of course I do. Jaeger is still sitting with the pretty woman, only now his head is bowed toward her and she’s leaning on his arm, speaking into his ear.

I clench my fist, nails grinding into my palm. He hasn’t once acknowledged me or Gen this evening. I wouldn’t have pegged Jaeger for a player, but flirting with me, taking Gen out, and now hooking-up with an older woman? What the hell?

Screw him! I’m single. I’m going out and having fun.

We walk inside the club, the steady pulse of dance music washing over me in a wonderfully distracting way. The only thing that could make the vision of Jaeger and the woman sliming on him less vivid would be a shot of Cuervo, or Patron if I’m in the mood to pamper myself, which I damn well am.

Fortunately, I’m with three attractive women. It doesn’t take long before men start buying us drinks. Mira may be hostile, but she’s unbelievably beautiful and luring all kinds of attention to our booth. Before I know it, I’ve downed five shots. A warm numbness settles over my limbs.

I slide from my seat. “Going dancing. Anyone wanna come?”

Gen shakes her head, posture slumped, eyelids drooping. She’s well past
tipsy
and teetering on
hammered
.

It’s safe to say I’m not the most conventional female, but Gen is, and seeing her drunk is funny as hell. I pull out my iPhone and snap a picture.

Her mouth parts in slow motion. “Heyyy!”

Before she makes a grab for my phone to purge the awesome photo I caught of her drunk off her ass, I swagger away, swinging my hips to the music.

I don’t care that I’m on the dance floor by myself, arms waving in the air like a lunatic. I could be making a perfect idiot of myself, but all that matters is that I don’t feel anything.

Not a damn thing.

No humiliation over the way Eric dumped me, no fear about the future, not even the jumble of emotions Jaeger elicits.

A new song transitions from the last and I shut my eyes, moving to the rhythm. Within seconds my balance wavers and I blink, throwing out my arms. I search for a visual horizon above the bodies to stop the spinning. My gaze lands on the wide, overcrowded bar off to the side. A tall blonde in a red dress looks over and our gazes connect. She looks an awful lot like Jaeger’s sister.

I slam my eyes shut and twist around. When I open them, the Kerstin lookalike is gone, but so is my balance. I stumble to the side like a child in high heels. A pair of arms brackets me from behind.

I swivel my head up and around. I’m pretty sure the guy supporting me is attractive, but the dance floor is dark, with blue and purple flashing lights. Given the heavy buzz I have going on, I could be totally off base. Then again, what has good-looking ever gotten me?