The Pick Up Page 8

  “What?”

  “Did you tell him you were my sister? When you asked him to organize your—” He couldn’t remember what she’d said she was planning to do.

  “Anniversary?”

  “Your anniversary. Fuck, Rebecca!” He was yelling now, but tried to rein his temper back in. “Did you tell him?”

  “No! Why would it matter? I had an event; he’s an event planner. You said so.” Rebecca had grilled him for an hour the day before about his dinner at the Fenton’s. “I thought it was a great idea. He’d organize the party and you’d help him. I thought you could spend some time with him. The two of you could get to know each other . . .” She flailed. Adam’s nostrils flared.

  “This was a matchmaking scheme?” He sat down in one of the café chairs. The situation was worse than he’d imagined.

  “You were so happy yesterday.” Tears welled in Rebecca’s eyes. “Happier than I’ve seen you since you came here. You kept talking about him.”

  “Because you kept asking about him! You wouldn’t leave me alone!”

  “I just want you to find someone.” She slumped into a chair opposite and buried her face in her hands. “Oh god. This was a really bad idea.”

  “No shit.”

  “Swear jar!”

  They sat like that for a minute in silence. Adam stared out the window at the empty parking spot where Kyle’s van had been, then shook his head and turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Rebecca asked.

  “I can’t talk to you anymore tonight.”

  “Adam, wait!” Rebecca called behind him, but Adam kept walking.

  In his car, he called Kyle’s number, but wasn’t surprised when the call went to voice mail. He typed out a couple of versions of the same text message, but nothing sounded like it would be enough, so he deleted them. He sighed. This was pointless. He’d see Kyle again at school. If he didn’t hear from him before that, Adam would make sure to apologize then.

  He headed for home, but had only been driving a few minutes when he saw the van parked in the lot at Morrison’s. Adam’s first instinct was to keep driving, maybe try calling again when he got to his apartment, but instead he made a U-turn and pulled in next to the van.

  Morrison’s was mostly empty when he entered. Kyle was visible at the bar, where he’d hung his jacket over the back of his chair. The white sleeves of his shirt seemed bright in the dim room. Adam approached and ignored the urge to run his hands across Kyle’s shoulders to try to ease some of the tension out of them. Instead, he sat down on the next stool over.

  Kyle picked up a shot glass full of brown liquor and downed it, then set the glass next to the two empty ones on the bar. “Go away, Adam.”

  Adam ignored the twinge of hurt that the first time Kyle called him by his first name was with so much anger. Kyle signaled to the bartender and raised two fingers. The bartender glanced at the empty shot glasses, then turned to Adam.

  “Anything for you?” he asked.

  “I’ll have a Coke.” Adam had a feeling staying sober was going to be important.

  “Why are you here?” Kyle was still staring straight ahead.

  “I thought you’d go home.”

  Kyle smiled, mocking. “I thought I would too. But coming back so soon would have been a giveaway and I told them . . .” He bounced a knee up and down from the footrest on his chair, leaving his forearms braced on the bar. “I needed some time.”

  Background noise filled the space between them for a minute, the sound of the few other conversations in the room, and acoustic music played quietly over the speakers. The bartender returned, set Kyle’s shots in front of him, and the Coke in front of Adam. Kyle downed the first one, then sat, running a finger along the side of the other glass. Adam didn’t touch his drink.

  “Kyle, I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . . Rebecca texted me at work and said to come to the café. She didn’t tell me why. If she had I would have—”

  “You would have what?” Kyle picked up the shot glass and drank it. He grimaced as he swallowed.

  Adam struggled to answer the question. He would have told her it was a bad idea? Not gone home to change out of his work clothes? Not that it would have mattered. Nothing in his wardrobe of chain-retailer pants and collared shirts would have stood up to what Kyle was wearing. Everything about his appearance tonight was polished. The shirt fit him perfectly, the vest cut in a way that seemed edgy. The change in him went all the way to his hair, which was slicked back away from his face, making his cheekbones stand out. He looked about ten years older than he had as he’d laughed with his daughter over cupcakes.

  “It was a bad idea,” Adam said. “Rebecca, she’s . . . it’s like she’s been a mom since she was Caroline’s age. She looks out for people.”

  Kyle let out a hard bark of laughter.

  “And you what?” he said. “You thought you could get her to take care of me? You told her about your dinner with poor Single Dad Kyle, and how he’s struggling with his rich bitch clients who make him plan their vacations and write their blog posts, and you said ‘wouldn’t it be nice if we could throw him a bone?’”

  “No! It wasn’t like that. She’s my sister. We talk. She asked what you did for a living, I told her, that’s the end of it.”

  “Because I don’t need anything from you,” Kyle continued as if Adam hadn’t spoken. “We’re fine. Caroline and me, we’re fine. We don’t need any favors. The two of us are doing fine.” He grabbed one of the empty shot glasses and banged it on the bar. The bartender glanced towards them but Adam waved him off.

  “It’s only a temporary thing,” he said. “Being at my dad’s. It’s temporary. We weren’t going to make it in Seattle. Not with my job, and Dad said . . . Just a temporary thing.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “It’s what I had to do for Caroline, you know?” Kyle was still going. “She needed . . . she needs two parents. I can’t . . . I’m not enough. I barely know what I’m doing half the time, and she needs . . .” He tapped a finger on the bar.

  Adam didn’t say anything. He’d only seen them together a few times, but it had been enough to show him that Kyle was a great dad. He didn’t think that was what the other man wanted to hear right then though. Kyle waved to the bartender, who stopped in front of them.

  “You sure?” The bartender glanced at the empty shot glasses and then at Adam, who shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

  He’s had enough.

  I’m just his daughter’s teacher.

  The bartender pulled out another glass, but it was a tumbler this time. He filled it with ice and then poured a single shot of whiskey into the bottom and placed it in front of Kyle. He lifted it with a wobbly hand, inspected the glass, and then rested it against his forehead.

  “It’s so easy to focus on the child. And I get that. I’m all she’s got now.” He paused and Adam nodded.

  “I know.”

  “I’m there for her. All the fucking time. Because that’s what she needs.”

  “You’re a great dad, Kyle.”

  “But what about me? People always ask about Caroline. Is she making friends? It must be so hard for her, losing her mom so young.” The last words were faint, and Kyle took a sip of his drink.

  “It must be hard.” Adam said it mostly to fill the space. Kyle shook his head.

  “I lost my best friend.” He stared at the melting ice in his glass. “She went out one night, some asshole in a BMW couldn’t be bothered to check the intersection before he turned, and I lost my best friend.”

  Adam’s heart froze. He opened his mouth. He didn’t know what he was going to say. It didn’t matter, because Kyle’s sad eyes were strangling him anyway. Kyle drained the rest of his drink and slithered down from his chair. His long slim body fit into the space between the bar, but as he stood he knocked the chair back and it tumbled over. He seemed confused about where the chair had come from, while he patted at his chest.

  “What are y
ou doing?” Adam asked as he righted the chair.

  “I should go home.” Kyle ran his hands over his clothes again. “Where’s my wallet?” Adam sighed and took out his own wallet to cover their bill. Kyle turned in slow circles, and Adam kept an eye on him, half afraid he’d fall over. He didn’t know Kyle well enough to know how he handled his liquor, but that had been a lot of whiskey for most mortals.

  Kyle’s blazer still hung off the back of the chair. Adam felt through the jacket’s pockets until he heard the jingle of keys, and he pulled them out.

  “I’ll drive you home,” he said.

  Kyle reached for the keys, then wobbled and had to grab for the chair to keep himself upright. “Probably a good idea.”

  “Come on.” Adam wrapped an arm around Kyle’s waist.

  “You’re very warm, Mr. Hathaway.” Kyle giggled. Adam ground his teeth. The entire evening had been a disaster, and it only seemed to be getting worse.

  The walk out to the parking lot took forever. The liquor had hit Kyle hard. He turned out to be a cuddly drunk. Trying to get him into Adam’s car was like trying to get an angry octopus in a shoebox; arms and legs materialized out of nowhere. His hands kept sliding over Adam’s body in a pleasantly distracting way, but eventually, Adam got him in and buckled. He put the blazer over Kyle’s lap.

  “Olivia always liked the professor jacket better.”

  The words felt like ice in Adam’s chest.

  When he got in the driver’s side of the car, he looked over to find Kyle already asleep in the passenger seat. His head was tipped back, his mouth open. Adam sighed and put the car in gear.

  He’d only gone a few blocks when he remembered Kyle’s words. “Coming back so soon would have been a giveaway and I told them . . .” They came to a stoplight, and Adam rested his head on the steering wheel for a minute. He glanced at Kyle again, really considered his clothes, so different than anything he’d seen him in before. A large watch with a silver face peeked out from the cuff of his shirt. There had been the pictures, on his laptop, the ones of the fancy party. Adam’s stomach sank as he realized Kyle had been there to pitch an event like that, and had made sure to dress the part too.

  Shit.

  He couldn’t take Kyle home like this, hammered and full of self-pity. He didn’t want to explain it to Kyle’s father or, worse, Caroline, if she was still awake.

  Adam thought about taking Kyle home to his place, but when Adam nudged him, Kyle didn’t move. Trying to wrestle his gangly unconscious frame up the three flights of stairs to the apartment was a bad idea so, instead, he turned the radio on and drove around town.

  He wasn’t sure how long he drove. He went past the school and the police station, Rebecca’s subdivision and his own apartment. He drove past the hospital and down the main strip past the café again. He drove until his eyes were heavy, then he pulled into an empty parking lot at the municipal baseball diamond and nudged Kyle, who moaned, but didn’t wake up. Unsure what else to do, Adam shut the car off, tilted his own seat back, and closed his eyes.

  He might have been asleep for a minute or an hour when he heard Kyle say his name.

  “Adam, wake up.”

  Adam blinked and sat up.

  Kyle had managed to get his jacket back on. His hair was a mess, as if he’d run his fingers through it. The car was silent, except for the sound of rain on the windshield, which must have started sometime after Adam had fallen asleep.

  “You okay?” Adam asked.

  “You can take me home now.” You can take me home now. Not Can you take me home? As if he knew what Adam had done.

  “Sure.”

  The next morning was rough. It took Kyle a long time to wake up. The first time he tried, his eyelids grated like sandpaper, and his gut burned in a way that said it didn’t want to be disturbed. He gave in and drifted off.

  The second time he woke up, the burning was gone, but his head swam like he’d been on the merry-go-round at the park with Caroline for too long. The room was dim. Early still. He turned his head and saw the pinstripe jacket in a heap on the floor.

  He didn’t want to think about the jacket. He closed his eyes and let himself go back to sleep.

  The third time he woke up, his room was fully bright, and it made his head hurt. His mouth tasted like Caroline’s white craft glue, and his spit had about the same consistency. He fumbled for his phone and checked the time. Nine forty-five. Kyle gasped and leapt out of bed. The room tilted as he dashed to the closet and grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the shelf. He got dressed, then hopped down the hall.

  “Jelly Bean! Jelly Bean, wake up, we slept in!” He opened the door to her room and found it empty. The bed was made, and there was no child in it. “Jelly Bean?”

  “I already took her to school,” his father’s voice answered from downstairs. Kyle stopped short, and the sudden change in his momentum made the hall spin. He groaned and leaned back against the wall. He thought he heard his dad chuckle.

  If he didn’t have to worry about getting Caroline out the door, he might as well get to work. He found his phone and scrolled through it to see what had come in overnight. There were five new emails from Shannon, six from Eva, including two marked URGENT, ten from addresses he didn’t recognize but that had subject lines like Dietary Restrictions and Custom Menu, so they were most likely from the restaurants in Vegas he’d emailed. A number had attachments, which he couldn’t read well on his screen. His laptop would be easier to work with, but it wasn’t where he usually kept it by the bedroom door. As he tried to piece together the last twelve or so hours of his life, he went to his text messages and typed in Adam’s name.

  did I have my laptop with me when you dropped me off?

  As soon as he’d hit Send, he realized the text was a stupid idea. Adam was working and probably wouldn’t check his phone until lunchtime. But then the phone vibrated in his hand.

  Don’t think so.

  You only had your jacket at Morrison’s.

  Maybe it’s still in your van?

  Damn. That was where it was. When he’d pulled into Morrison’s for his pity party, he hadn’t been thinking about the laptop or how he’d get home later. He’d only wanted to scrub the humiliating memory of the café out of his brain. He sent a message back to Adam.

  thanks

  sorry about last night

  thanks for getting me home safe

  Within a minute, a reply popped up.

  It’s the least I could do.

  Kyle considered. He was embarrassed at how badly he had overreacted at the café, and afterwards.

  can I swear you to secrecy on anything I said last night?

  Another pause while he waited for a reply. This one lasted longer. He’d stripped off his shirt to go take a shower when the phone buzzed.

  You’re a great dad, Kyle, you shouldn’t doubt that.

  Embarrassment still burned under his skin, and a sick feeling stirred in his stomach, although that was probably the hangover. But beneath all that, he felt a warm sense of pride.

  you’re gonna make me blush Mr. Hathaway

  “Can you give me a lift?” Kyle asked his dad when he came downstairs. He poured himself a mug of coffee. “I left my van downtown.”

  His father was stacking dishes by the sink. “Good morning to you too. What’s your hurry?”

  “I left my computer in the van. I need it for work.”

  “For work? I take it things went well, then?” His dad said. Kyle grimaced. “Or not?”

  “There was a misunderstanding. It’s not going to lead to anything.”

  “But you got home so late. I assumed . . .” His father’s brow wrinkled.

  “Yeah, I went out for a ‘better luck next time’ drink with Mr. Hathaway after.”

  “Mr. Hathaway? What does Caroline’s teacher have to do with your business meeting last night?”

  “Everything.” The laugh felt sour in Kyle’s throat. “And nothing, since there’s no business. But it turns out t
hat Rebecca at the coffee shop is Adam’s sister.”

  “You went to a business meeting with Rebecca at the café?” His father’s eyes widened.

  “You know Rebecca?”

  “Everyone knows Rebecca.”

  “Well, not everyone, apparently.”

  “The café is famous; their cupcakes were on TV. You had one here the other night. Isn’t that where you got it from?”

  Kyle remembered the pastry box Adam had brought with him when he’d come for dinner. “My sister sent them over.” Kyle hadn’t picked up on that at all.

  “Can we go, please? I have a lot to do before I pick up Caroline, and I’m getting a late start as it is.”

  “So the meeting didn’t go well?” his father pressed.

  Kyle coughed out a laugh that made his head hurt. “I’m pretty sure the door on that opportunity is shut, nailed down, and bricked over.”

  They drove to Morrison’s in silence. Kyle watched Red Creek go by out the window. It seemed impossible that he had made the same drive the night before, dressed and polished, brain bursting with ideas despite the fact he wasn’t sure what Rebecca had wanted him to do.

  “I’ve been here five years,” she’d said when he’d arrived at the café, “and for a while we were the best game in town. But the chains are moving in now, and people don’t mind paying them six bucks for a prefabricated macchiato, but they grumble when I try to charge three dollars for a cupcake. So I need it to be big.”

  Kyle had scribbled notes. “What did you have in mind exactly?”

  “We’ll call it an anniversary party, but I really want it to go beyond that. I want it to be about branding the café and the downtown as home, somewhere you can always come back to and get to know again. We care, we take care of our customers. We look after our own.”

  Kyle had kept writing. If she was interested in branding the downtown, the campaign might be more involved than a single party. Maybe he could approach other businesses on the street to see if there was interest in a larger initiative.

  “It’s going to be a lot of work,” Rebecca had said. He’d nodded and kept writing, his excitement growing. “I’m sure you’ll need some help.” He almost hadn’t heard the bell over the door chime as someone had come in. It was Rebecca who had drawn his attention as she got up from the table where he was loading his portfolio on the computer. She’d walked away, and he’d had to turn to see who had come in.