It Was Me (7 page)

THIRTEEN

Sakura Sushi was a quick drive from the resort, situated in a tiny strip mall that looked like it was better suited to house tanning salons and mattress discounters as opposed to award-winning sushi bars. But Abby had assured me that, despite its odd location, the quality was bar none. I didn't say anything, just nodded at her.

The drive over, although quick, had been tense. Abby and Annika's parents had taken the front seats, Mr. Sellers at the wheel, which left the middle bench seat and the back bench. I'd opened the door for Abby and she'd climbed in, tucking her sundress close to her legs as she stepped in. I was about to close the door when Annika reached out and touched my arm. I'd pulled away like a rattlesnake had just sunk its fangs into me.

“What about me?” she asked.

“What about you?”

She nodded at the interior of the car. “Last I checked, I was coming to dinner. In this car.”

I wanted to tell her to open her own goddamn door but then I remembered where I was and who I was with. I was the guest here. Annika was a member of the family. And I was supposed to be forgiving her. I glared at her but stepped aside, giving her room to climb in.

She motioned to Abby to scoot over and took the middle seat next to her.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed at her.

Annika smiled. “Sitting.”

“Get in the back.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I'm not climbing over the seat. I'll wrinkle my dress. Or fall out.” She leaned forward suggestively, her tits jiggling dangerously close to the top of her tube dress.

“What's the hold up?” Abby's dad barked. The engine was running and the air conditioner blasted the interior with much-needed cool air.

“Nothing, sir.” I gritted my teeth and slid in next to Annika.

Abby leaned forward, trying to get my attention but I stared straight ahead, my back ramrod straight. Annika's bare thigh touched mine and I shrank away, pressing myself into the door. Jesus Christ, I couldn't stand the bitch. And if I couldn't stand a five minute car ride with her, I wasn't sure how I was going to survive dinner. Or the remainder of the week.

Forgive, I reminded myself. I'd promised to forgive. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to relieve some of the anger building inside of me. It didn't work.

Abby's dad pulled into the parking lot and I bolted out of my seat before he'd even pulled the key out of the ignition. I circled the car and opened Abby's door for her and she slipped out, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Me, too.” I was. I was sorry about the ride over and sorry her sister was here, ruining everything. And I was sorry I'd agreed to try to make amends.

The restaurant was surprisingly empty, only a few of the black lacquered tables occupied. The hostess led us to a long, rectangular table and I pulled out a chair on the left hand side, motioning for Abby to sit down. Before Annika could make a move, I sank down in the chair next to Abby and breathed a quick sigh of relief. I might have her sister sitting across from me at dinner time but that was far better than having her sit next to me. At least no one could force me to look at her.

Abby's mom distributed the menus. “What kind of sushi do you like, West?” she asked.

I scanned the menu. “Honestly?”

She waited expectantly.

“I have no idea. I've never had it.”

“You've never had sushi?” Annika sounded incredulous, as if I'd just announced I'd never taken a shower.

I didn't bother responding to her.

Abby looked at me. “Never?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Do you...do you think you'll like it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “No idea.”

The thought of eating raw fish actually disgusted me. But I wasn't going to admit that out loud, especially with her parents looking at me with veiled concern and Annika watching me, a smug, satisfied smile on her face.

“We'll order a bunch of California rolls,” Abby said.

“Okay.” I glanced at the menu and then back at her. “And what are those?”

Annika giggled. “You don't know what a California roll is?”

My temper flared and I opened my mouth to respond but Abby beat me to it.

“Knock it off, Annika,” she said, her voice low. Her parents had returned their attention to their menus.

“I'm sorry,” she said and she actually sounded contrite. “I sometimes forget that he's...well, you know. Not our class.”

Abby pursed her lips and started to say something but I touched her leg under the table and leaned close. “Don't,” I said, loud enough for Annika to hear. “She's not worth it. She's not worth one breath of yours.”

Annika had no idea of my history. All she knew was I'd met Abby at Mesa. In her mind, she probably did think I was just some loser shuffling meaninglessly through classes at the local JC. She had no idea who my dad had been, what I'd been offered in high school, and everything I'd lost because of my dad's embezzling.

And I wanted to keep it that way.

Annika pouted a little, her red lips forming into a frown, but I ignored her. After a few quick glances, Abby did too.

A waiter came to take our drink order and then, a few minutes later, our dinner order. The names of the dishes her parents and sister rattled off were unfamiliar but Abby stuck to ordering California rolls. I'd glanced at the menu, breathing a little sigh of relief at the list of ingredients. I wasn't so sure about swallowing down seaweed but I could handle crab meat and guacamole.

Abby's father picked up his glass of wine. His blistered chest was hidden underneath a white linen button-down shirt but his nose and cheeks were pink from his afternoon in the sun. “So, West. Give any more thought to what happened on the field today?”

“Not really,” I admitted. I'd spent too much time thinking about all of the things I wanted to do to his daughter.

He nodded his head at his wife. “She didn't believe me when I told her what happened.”

Abby's mother sipped her glass of Chardonnay, then frowned. “That's not quite true.”

“Oh, baloney.” Abby's dad glared at her. “You accused me of having heat stroke.”

She laughed and it reminded me of her daughter's laugh, soft and infectious. “That is not true!” She turned to me. “I've never doubted your athletic ability on the field, West. Not since Abby told us about the Stanford deal.”

I didn't want to but I couldn't help but notice Annika's head swivel back and forth as she listened to and watched the exchange. It was evident to me that this was the first she was hearing about me playing baseball. And it was pretty clear that she was realizing just how wrong she had been about me.

“Stanford?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You were going to go to Stanford?”

I didn't respond but I didn't need to. Because Abby jumped in. “Yeah. Stanford.” Her voice was smug.

Annika trailed a fingertip along the rim of her diet Coke. “So what happened?” She narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “You get kicked out?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “No, he did not get kicked out.”

“Don't act all surprised by the suggestion. It's not like he hasn't gotten in trouble before.” Annika's voice trailed off.

Abby leaned across the table, her eyes on fire as she stared her sister down. “You really want to start this?” she asked, not bothering to lower her voice. “I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, trying to stir things up, but it isn't going to work. So stop it.”

Annika shrank back, putting a hand to her chest. “I'm not trying to do anything,” she protested. She turned to her dad for reinforcement. “Daddy—”

He cut her off. “I think it might be a good idea if you just kept your mouth shut.” He took a sip of wine. “In multiple ways.”

Abby gasped in surprise and Annika's face exploded in color. I hid my smile by taking a long sip of the Coke in front of me. Score one for the pissed off dad. I knew Abby had finally broken down and told her dad about the things Annika had done to her—and to us—but I'd never known just how many details she'd shared.

Clearly, she'd told him everything.

“Great-Grandma turns one hundred next month,” Abby's mom announced, her not so subtle way of changing the subject. “Your grandma is planning a big birthday bash.”

“A hundred?” I repeated. “Wow.”

Her mom nodded. “With no signs of going anytime soon.”

“Where does she live?” I asked.

“Florida,” Abby answered. “You should come with us.”

I thought I saw Annika roll her eyes but I wasn't sure.

“Maybe,” I said.

She squeezed my thigh under the table, her way of telling me she really wanted me to go.

Abby's dad swirled the wine in his glass. “She has lived a long, full life.” He glanced over his glass at his wife. “Very lucky.”

His wife ducked her eyes into her own drink. There was something in the look that they'd exchanged that seemed to be about more than the party or her age, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was.

Our food came and I was surprised by how much I liked the California rolls. I lost count of how many I put in my mouth. I wasn't crazy about some of the other stuff I tried from Abby's plate, but it wasn't terrible and I could see myself becoming a semi-regular eater of sushi in the future.

When we'd finished and the plates had been cleared from the table, no one made a move to leave. The check was on the table, but Mr. Sellers hadn't so much as glanced at it. Both he and his wife were shifting uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging glances with one another and I was confused as to what was going on.

Annika finally sighed. “So. Are we going to go or sit here all night?”

Those were the first words she'd spoken since her father told her to shut up, but she said exactly what I was thinking.

Mr. Sellers sighed. “Can't I enjoy dinner with my family?”

“We enjoyed dinner,” Annika said. “It's now in my stomach.”

He frowned at her, but finished the last swallow of wine in his glass and set it down on the table. “Fine. And even though you're being a pain, I'm glad you came out to join us.” He looked across the table at his wife again. “We're glad.”

She nodded and gave him a tight smile. I wondered how they'd gone from joking and laughing to this weird sort of tension, all in the course of an hour-long dinner. Maybe I was imagining things. I glanced at them again. There was something in the looks they exchanged that I couldn't quite pin down, but it seemed like more than just agreeing that they were happy that both of their daughters were with them. And I wasn't quite sure how anyone could be happy to have Annika blow into a room and start looking down her nose at them. I shook my head and looked away. What did I know about their family dynamics?

We left the restaurant and this time Abby made sure to position herself between Annika and me in the backseat. The drive took longer back to the resort, though, as we found ourselves bottlenecked in a construction zone.

Annika sighed loudly and leaned against her door. “We're never going to get back, going this slow.”

“Big plans when we get back?” Abby asked, cutting her eyes in her direction.

“Actually, yes,” she said, making a face at her sister. “I need to do my nails.”

“Wow. I hope the polish is still there when we get back. I hope it didn't go bad.”

I stifled a smile. For all her talk about forgiveness and moving on, Abby didn't seem to have a problem arguing with her sister.

“Shut up.”

“Lean harder against that door,” Abby said. “Maybe it'll open.”

“Enough,” Mr. Sellers said, looking at both of them in the rearview mirror. “It's a little traffic. Settle down.”

Abby squeezed my hand, but Annika did some more dramatic sighing.

“Honestly, Daddy,” she said. “I'm not sure why you wanted me to come over here so badly. If I wanted to be stuck in traffic with a bunch of Zonies, I could've just stayed in San Diego.”

I had to turn toward my window so she wouldn't see me laugh because it was actually pretty funny. The beaches in San Diego were notoriously overrun with Arizona tourists in the summer months and it wasn't uncommon to spot bumper stickers and T-shirts, advising our neighbors to the east to return back to their desert dwellings immediately.

“I just didn't want you to miss out on this week,” Mr. Sellers said, easing his foot off the accelerator again as traffic halted. “We haven't done a family vacation since...”

“Last year?” Annika said. “Like we do every single year?”

“Well, yeah,” he said as he drove. “But I just...”

“We just wanted everyone to be here,” Mrs. Sellers said, finishing his sentence for him. She reached over and touched his forearm. “It's kind of a tradition.”

Annika made a dismissive grunt and went back to looking out the window as the car inched along in the traffic.

“West, did you hear anything more this afternoon?” Mr. Sellers asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.