Wild Abandon (17 page)

When we pick up the chandelier, all the pieces are boxed up, and the brass is barren in its ornate beauty. Packing the boxes on the floor of the backseat, we then try to get the frame in, too. Problem is, the chandelier is too damn big, and the backseat is too effing small.

Not wanting to tie it to the roof or have to rent a truck to pick it up, we start to get creative, moving the front seats and tilting the brass in various ways to maneuver it into the car.

I am using my ass to shimmy the thing in when a car pulls up next to us, and a deep voice echoes, “Looks like you need a rescue.”

I stop moving and blink a few times, wondering if I’m imagining things. Nate is in the driver’s seat of his truck with the passenger and back windows rolled down. Out the back window is Willie Mays’s ginormous head and his super slobbery tongue. I stare at the most handsome man I’ve ever met, who thinks I look like a platypus, and he is looking especially gorgeous in a beige long-sleeved henley and knit cap. Yes, he even looks good in a light knit cap.

“Hi!”’ From the sidewalk, Naomi waves at the mysterious stranger in the black Tahoe. “I’m Naomi.”

“Nate.” He waves hello.

“Oh, so you’re Nate. Great to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard so much about you!” Naomi beams and then walks up to the passenger window to properly meet him.

Insert palm on forehead and metaphoric shrinking down to the ground.

Heard so much about you?
I hope he doesn’t think I’ve been gushing about him. Because I have not. In fact, I’ve dodged as many questions as possible.

And, now, Nate is getting out of his car. He is walking around his car and coming up next to me. He is putting his hand on my hip and moving me to the side.

He is staring at me.

Why is Nate staring at me?

“I need to get behind you.”

Why does Nate need to get behind me?

“I have to get the chandelier.”

Chandelier?

I turn to Naomi to ask her what’s going on. While Nate’s head is buried down, as he’s trying to carefully get the chandelier out of the car, Naomi is taking the opportunity to give me this wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression with a body bob that makes her look like she’s being electrocuted.

I open my arms out to her, asking,
What is going on?

Naomi composes herself and says with a smirk, “Nate was driving by and saw we needed help.”

He takes the chandelier and starts walking it toward his truck.

“If you’re helping us, then why are you putting it in your car?” I ask.

He answers without looking at me, “I’m bringing it to your house.”

“And he’s staying for dinner!” Naomi beams.

That causes both me and Nate to spin our heads in her direction in rapid movement.

“He is?”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” she says nonchalantly. “We’re having a barbecue at the house. Totally casual. Since you’ll be at the house, stay for a drink. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Nate looks from Naomi to me and back and forth one more time before shrugging his shoulders with uncertainty. “Um, sure, okay. I’ll follow you.” He closes his trunk and then walks to the driver’s seat.

Naomi and I get in her car.

No sooner is my seat belt on than I am ripping into her. “We’re not having a barbecue today!”

She is looking at the rearview mirror, eyeing Nate in his truck. “And you didn’t tell me that Nate looked like that.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what he looks like. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends,” she states even though it sounds like she doesn’t believe it.

“He’s emotionally unavailable. And completely uninterested.”

“It all makes sense now.” Her words are slow and somewhat singsongy.

“What makes sense?”

“Why the hell you drive to a pub in Napa for all your dates.”

“I told you, I like the band.”

“Yes. The band is very, very good-looking.” She winks, and I fall back into my seat in exasperation.

When we get to the house, from the driveway, Naomi calls for Jeremy to bring the chandelier into the house. When Jeremy comes out, he is confused by the stranger on his pavement.

“This is Crystal’s friend Nate. He’s staying for the barbecue.”

“We’re having a barbecue?” Jeremy asks. Then, he’s nudged in the side by his wife.

“Yes, yes, we are
indeed
having a very large”—she nudges him again—“
small
get-together.”

He is shrinking back from his wife before she can nudge him again. He looks at Nate for a way out. “Did I hear something needs to come inside the house?”

Nate is standing by the grill of his car, his arms folded in front of him, his feet apart. “Yeah. Over here.” He walks Jeremy to the back of the truck.

Jeremy takes the frame inside the house with Naomi behind him. Nate and I walk to Naomi’s car to get the bags in her trunk.

“I apologize in advance for anything they say or do for the next hour,” I’m talking into the air as I open the rear door.

“Are you kicking me out after an hour?” Nate looks perplexed. “If you don’t want me inside—”

“No!” I say and then reel myself back. “I just assumed you didn’t want to come in. That you were just saying yes to be nice.”

Nate leans against the bumper and turns his body into mine. “Where have you been all week?”

I pull my bottom lip in and then realize I’m making that face he hates. “Around.”

“You taking your dates somewhere else?” His words are nonchalant, but when I look into his eyes, they’re boring into me, interrogating.

“I haven’t been on any.”

“Well, I can help you pick your next date if you want,” he offers.

“That would be nice,” I lie.

There is an uncomfortable silence between us. I push a stray curl away from my face.

Nate loops his thumb in his belt loop. “Crystal, I—”

“Who are you?”

Nate looks down at the big voice coming from a very little person. Scarlet’s head is arched all the way back, getting a good look at Nate.

“I’m Nate.” He looks back to me, wondering who this kid is.

“So,
you’re
Nate.” Scarlet taps her finger against her chin and casts her beady little eyes at him. “What are your intentions with Crystal?”

“Scarlet!” I reprimand.

“Crystal spent the night at your house.” Her finger points up at Nate in an accusatory fashion.

“Yes, she did?” Nate says in question, wondering if it’s an appropriate conversation to be having with a child.

I nod to let him know that Scarlet is no ordinary child.

“Listen, Nathaniel—may I call you Nathaniel?” Scarlet asks. Then, she carries on without Nate’s answer, “Crystal might be well beyond her dating prime, but I’d like to assure you that she is no floozy.”

Beyond my dating prime?
“I’m only thirty!”

Scarlet looks at me and then turns back to Nate. “And how old are you?”

“Thirty-two?” Again, he’s answering as if it’s a question.

I think Scarlet is making him nervous.

“Why are you still single?” she probes.

Even though I should be scolding her for bothering Nate, I honestly want the answer.

“I’m not,” he answers.

My head jolts up in surprise.

“What are you doing, leading my friend Crystal on, if you’re not single?” Scarlet demands.

I really want to know the answer to this question, too.

Nate leans forward and tilts his head at Scarlet. “We’re just friends. Don’t you have boys who are just friends?”

“No. I don’t like boys. They’re immature and annoying.”

“I’m sure your parents will appreciate that.” Nate laughs and then gets down on his knee. “You might not believe this, but someday, the boys who you don’t want to play with will grow up, and they won’t be as annoying to you as they are now. Grown men and women can be friends with each other. We can hang out and share a meal and talk to each other.”

Scarlet twists her lips, taking in what Nate has said. “Okay, I understand. But no sleepovers. We’re trying to find Crystal a husband, and she has a reputation to uphold.”

I open my mouth to yell at Scarlet, but Nate holds his hand in the air to her and says, “Scout’s honor.”

Scarlet takes Nate’s elbow and starts to usher him inside. “You want to see my tepee in the backyard?”

Nate pulls back. “I do, but I brought a friend with me. I just took him to his groomer here in town, so he’s nice and clean. Can he come inside, too?”

He walks to his car and opens the back door. Willie Mays comes barreling out. He walks over to Naomi’s plants and takes the longest pee I have ever seen in my life.

Scarlet has a look of disgust on her face. “Sure. But, if he poops, you’re cleaning it. Yuck!”

I have to give Jeremy credit. For finding out he’s hosting a get-together moments before it begins, the man has an incredible spread prepared. Naomi went to the kitchen to whip together a corn salad, but Jeremy has hamburgers, ribs, potatoes, and asparagus all cooking on the grill. It’s like he had a Barbeque for Dummies kit in the fridge, waiting for an impromptu party.

I’m staring out the window, watching Nate and Jeremy chat at the grill. I can’t believe he’s here.

“He’s nice,” Naomi says.

I turn around and glare at her. “Promise me you won’t play matchmaker.”

“What on earth would I do that for?” She tosses the salad and smiles.

I am still trying to figure out how an emotionally unavailable man who hates love has a girlfriend. I can’t deny that it totally deflated my elation that he’s here.

“He’s already in a relationship.” I hope I sound nonchalant about it.

Naomi’s mouth drops in disappointment. “That’s a shame…for the other girl. Because he
really
likes you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Woman’s intuition.” She picks up the bowl and walks it outside.

I follow.

When the table is set and the food is prepared, the five of us take our seats and eat. Nate asks us how we know each other.

Naomi answers for all of us, “Crystal and I grew up together. Jeremy and I met at Cal State.”

Nate looks from Jeremy and Naomi to Scarlet. It’s obvious it just dawned on him how young they are to have an eight-year-old.

“We were twenty-two when we got married.” She gives Nate a wink.

I remember when she called me and told me she was pregnant. It was not all rainbows and butterflies. Naomi was devastated. Jeremy, on the other hand, was relatively cool about the whole thing. His only concern was that he needed to finish his schooling, so he could support them as a family. In turn, Naomi had to drop out her junior year.

After Scarlet was born, Naomi became a full-time mom while Jeremy went out to get his master’s in engineering. Once his degree was secure, he moved the three of them here to St. Helena.

Naomi was never able to go back to school for graphic design. Sure, she’s been able to get work, and she’s been pursuing her dreams, but wine labels weren’t the end goal. Naomi wanted to live in a big city and work in advertising.

Looking around at the home they have, the life they’ve built, I know she wouldn’t change it for the world. Does she wonder about a different life? Sure. But to change a thing? Never.

Nate seems impressed that Naomi and I have stayed best friends despite the long distance. I never knew
not
being her friend was ever an option.

“They’re like Laverne and Shirley,” Jeremy says.

Naomi and I immediately disagree with his comparison.

“Laverne and Shirley?” I groan.

“Babe, I’d say you’re dating yourself because you’re decades off with that reference,” Naomi says.

Jeremy rolls his eyes and then appeases us, “Kim and Khloe?”

“Ugh, no!” Naomi balks. “Brenda and Kelly.”

“Yes! Or Romy and Michele!”

We laugh and cheers glasses, and then we recite in unison, “You’re the Rhoda!”

The guys just look at us, trying to decide who these random people we’ve mentioned are.

“See what I mean?” Jeremy eyes Nate, and the two clink beer necks. “One time, we went to a Maroon 5 concert at Jones Beach. It’s an outdoor concert arena off a beach in New York. Super awesome for summer concerts. Not so awesome in the rain.

“These two decide the floor tickets we have aren’t good enough. They want to taste Adam Levine’s sweat. So, what do they do?” Jeremy hypothetically asks Nate.

“Pretend we’re a part of the road crew!” Naomi says.

We high-five.

Jeremy continues, “These two lunatics not only attempt to get backstage, but they actually succeeded!”

“You’re just a sour puss because they wouldn’t let you in,” I tease.

Jeremy rolls his head to Nate. “Yeah, they think they made it back there because they were savvy. They got in for two reasons—each.”

Nate lets out one of those smile-laughs he tries to hide so well and nods his head in agreement. “Understandable.”

“Oh, you think that’s the end of the story? No.” Jeremy points his bottle toward me in accusation. “Crystal, here, decides that she wants to find Adam Levine’s dressing room. But there’s a security guard in the hallway, so she hides. In a trunk. And guess what happened to said trunk?”