EDGES Page 6

  She blushed again.

  “You know what,” Patrick said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be having this conversation. I tend to speculate on people’s lives when really I have no idea.”

  She inhaled and calmly responded. “It’s okay, you’re right. Some days I am bored, or stressed, or whatever you want to call it. I don’t think it’s unfulfilled necessarily, but I’m twenty-five, so you know…”

  He looked straight at her. “No, I don’t. Tell me.”

  She laughed nervously, looked away, and fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat.

  He filled in the void for her. “I’m sorry. It was meant to be a compliment. I just bumbled it.”

  She smiled. “It’s okay. It’s all robotic pleasantries with people nowadays. It’s refreshing to hear something real.”

  “Sickening, isn’t it? How we’re like, going through life programmed to feel as little as possible. We need to get crazy more often.” He suddenly lifted up his arms and dug all ten fingers into his neat hair and shook it until it devolved into a completely crazy disheveled mop on his head.

  Mallory laughed. “Much better.”

  “To be honest—and please don’t tell Teddy—this is just a job for me. I’m no business man. This business is all about perceptions and appearances. I’m all about what’s in here.” He pointed to his chest.

  “That’s pretty cheesy.” The oddest sensation came over Mallory as she said it. Her eyes moved to his nice, full lips skirted by short brown hairs of stubble.

  “Teddy’s a good guy,” Patrick said, breaking the spell, and with a chuckle followed with, “not the chattiest, but, he’s a no-nonsense type. I respect that.”

  She leaned forward slightly and uncrossed her legs. “You’re pretty chatty.”

  “I guess that’s why they have me working the front desk. You’d think they’d hire a pretty face, but what do I know.”

  She wanted to say that he was anything but hard to look at, but refrained.

  Teddy pulled up then, in one of the company trucks, next to Mallory’s car outside. She and Patrick watched him through the window. Teddy tore off his sunglasses as he came inside and clearly sensed the energy between the two of them.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Hi.”

  He looked toward Patrick and then back to her. “Has he sexually harassed you yet?”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied.

  “You’d know, trust me.”

  Patrick leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Appreciate the confidence, Teddy. But I don’t copulate with married women.”

  “Just married men, I guess,” Teddy said and laughed at his own joke.

  “You’ll be married soon enough,” Patrick said and flashed an indecent smile that made Mallory laugh.

  “And technically,” Mallory interjected, lifting up a finger as if to point out something, “I’m not married yet.”

  Patrick laughed at her joke, but Teddy scowled at her. “Now you’re pushing it.”

  He looked back at Patrick again. “I’m just busting your balls, man.” He looked back down at Mallory. “Let me grab my stuff and we’ll go.”

  “Okay.”

  Mallory stood up and waited, her eyes lingering on Patrick. He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to his computer screen. Teddy went back to his office and she followed after him but stopped and turned back at the opening of the hallway. Patrick must have sensed her watching him because he swiveled in his chair and for one long moment they were smiling at each other and neither felt compelled to break it. The skin on her legs prickled and the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end.

  Teddy appeared from the hallway and motioned to her that they were going now.

  “Nice seeing you again, Patrick,” Mallory said as they were leaving.

  “Wait,” Patrick said. “One second. I should probably get your contact information in case the police follow up with more questions for us.”

  Mallory froze and looked at Teddy. He had a look that said don’t you dare.

  “Yeah,” she replied, feeling a spontaneous urge to spite him. “Of course. That’s smart.”

  Teddy slung his hand into the crook of her elbow, stopping her from walking back to the desk. “If something comes up and you need her info, I’ll get you two connected. Sound good?”

  Patrick looked to Mallory with his own expression that asked, “Does that sound good to you?”

  She exhaled and gave a grudging nod. “Sure.”

  “Good,” Teddy said. “Catch you tomorrow, Patrick.”

  “You guys have fun tonight.”

  Teddy glared at her as they walked out, obviously wondering what had happened with Patrick in the time she’d been waiting. He drove the two of them back in her car and as they headed out of town, she started telling him about the wines she picked out.

  “Honey, I don’t even want any wine tonight. I just want to get through this dinner so I can get some sleep.”

  There was nothing else she wanted to say to him after that. She looked away and watched the tall pines move past in the window.

  “I don’t want you talking to Patrick.”

  She flinched. “What?”

  “The guy’s a womanizer. A fucking slime ball. Just stay away from him if you’re ever at the office.”

  “He seemed nice enough to me.” Mallory sensed that Teddy was threatened.

  “Of course he did. He makes people feel how they want to feel, and then he strikes. You know Joe?”

  Mallory nodded.

  “His little sister came by the office one day and she ended up getting involved with that creep. She was never the same.”

  Mallory didn’t reply.

  “I’m serious, Mal.”

  “All right, all right. I get it.”

  They drove in silence the rest of the way home. And for the duration of it, the emotions of fun and aliveness she’d felt talking to Patrick rattled inside her like an echo. She longed to feel it again, the sensation of being a girl, of being wanted, of having someone’s eyes on her like that.

  But Mallory knew that before long, maybe not tonight, but likely tomorrow or the next day, that the sexy feeling would fade away and she would be right back to feeling… normal. To feeling lonely and unfulfilled, sitting in this big quiet house, asking herself if she should marry this man.

  And it scared her.

  George

  SWEAT BEADS FELL DOWN GEORGE’S neck into the already damp cotton collar of his t-shirt. In this heat, his arms strained to keep the heavy box he was lifting from slipping through his grasp. It was nearly eighty out, he guessed, very warm for early April. He set the box down in the living room of his new apartment and wiped his brow. The front door lay open wide, inside just as hot as out.

  When George sauntered back out for the next box, he was reminded that his choice to move from sprawling Denver to Durango had been an easy one. He set his eyes on the two girls in tight shorts and tank tops who were helping him move in. Simone and Tiffany, who lived only three units down, were busy lugging lighter boxes off of the moving truck. He stood, just about where the doormat would be, and admired them.

  Simone came up the cement walkway smirking at him. “What are you staring at?”

  “I just can’t believe I’m here.”

  “Believe it.”

  She smiled and went past. He turned and watched her go into the house. As she bent down to set the box on the floor, he watched her turquoise shorts stretch over her butt, and her calves and hamstrings flexed. Simone. He cloaked his desire for her, even now. George felt the edge of a box push into the small of his back. He whipped around to Tiffany, whose back was arched to support the weight in her arms.

  “It’s rude to stare,” she said with a laugh, and bumped him aside to go in.

  He couldn’t believe the two loves of his life were living only three doors down from him. The circumstances had never been better in his whole life.

  When it was all said and done
they’d moved in a couch, a bed, two large TVs, and almost two dozen boxes. They all agreed that they would shower and then have some margaritas at the girls’ place.

  George flipped on the A/C, which clunked to life. There was barely any room to walk amongst the boxes, but he tiptoed through it and made his way to the stairs. In the bathroom, he started a shower.

  The water was freezing so he let it warm. The window in his room was cracked and he heard the laughter of girls carry in through it. On peering out, he saw the girls had run into a neighbor on the way back to their place. He watched the way Simone leaned and swayed on the sidewalk. He admired Tiffany’s body as she held her hands on her hips and bobbed when she laughed.

  When he went back to the shower, he dipped into the water with the image of both of them fresh. He took to pleasuring himself fiercely in the lukewarm spray. His toes crumpled and his muscles tensed as he reached orgasm. A feeling of ease moved through him. He had made the right choice in moving here.

  He wormed into some jeans and a t-shirt and headed over. He knocked and Tiffany hollered to come in. Taco seasoning filled the air. She was in the kitchen cooking chicken on the stove top, making burritos by the looks of things.

  “Simone’s still in the shower.”

  He nodded and sat down at the round table just off the kitchen. A bottle of tequila and margarita mix stared back at him from the middle of the table.

  “Would you mind mixing that?” she asked, nodding toward the drink mix, her hands busy with the burritos.

  George bit down on his lip and rolled his eyes. People who knew he’d bartended always wanted him to make the drinks, and he usually took it as a compliment, but it grew annoying over time.

  Ice, three glasses, a pitcher, a shaker, no salt.

  Tiffany plated the burritos and put one in the fridge for Simone, then gave George one and sat with him at the table. He pushed one of the margaritas her way and bit into his burrito.

  Upon sipping her margarita, Tiffany let out a purring noise. “Mmmm.”

  “There’s like four shots in that one,” George said.

  “Perfect. We’re going out tonight, anyway.”

  “You are?”

  “We all are,” she said. “That includes you. We gotta celebrate you moving in.”

  “I was hoping to get some things unpacked.”

  She gave a wave of her hand. “Nonsense.”

  He laughed and took a drink of his own margarita. It wasn’t half bad, considering they had no fresh ingredients. George had become a bit of a drink snob compared to most of the college-aged kids he hung out with back home.

  “We’re going to pre-game at Patrick and Josh’s,” she said.

  George sighed. “I’m pretty sure Josh hates me for some reason.”

  Tiffany laughed. “That’s because you and Simone were getting touchy feely right in front of him.”

  “We’re just friends.” He hated saying it. It made him cringe, an indirect way of admitting he’d been a coward all these years.

  Once, senior year, Tiffany had passed out drunk at George’s house after a long drinking session in his parents’ hot tub. She had just lain there on the couch in nothing but a swimsuit. When he’d tried to move her, she was dead weight in his arms. He’d lightly slapped her cheek, trying to wake her up.

  Once it was clear that she’d blacked out, in a moment of supreme weakness, George had lifted up her top so he could see what he never had the right to. To this day, he got sick to his stomach thinking about what he’d done, and it was reinforced each day that he remained ‘just friends’ with them both. But it was all part of why he’d moved to Durango. And maybe Josh had good reason to worry. He had plans for change. Big plans. He wouldn’t live the life of a coward again.

  “Guys don’t think in rational terms,” Tiffany said, snapping George out of it. “You’re like a brother to both of us, but Josh only sees what he sees.”

  “What about Patrick?”

  She chuckled. “Patrick doesn’t give a damn. Or at least you’ll never see him show it.”

  “I thought he loved you.”

  “He does. But he’s just not like that.”

  George stepped out onto the thin ice that was the history behind Tiffany and Patrick’s relationship. “He’s been with a lot of girls, huh?”

  Tiffany took a gulp of her drink. “I’d rather not think about it.”

  “How do you know you’re not just another girl to him, Tiff?”

  She considered that with a tilt of the head and thoughtful stare into the depth of the room. “He’s kept me around longer than any other girl.” She laughed. “It’s not saying much, but we’re almost at five months. He’s only cheated on me once, and trust me, I know how that sounds…”

  “That’s an accomplishment for sure,” George joked.

  “Shut up.” She laughed. “With Patrick, I just like to think that of all the girls, he’s the most mine, if that makes sense.”

  George bent his head to both sides, thinking about that. “I’ve known you forever, and I think you should be with a guy you don’t have to worry about. You deserve that.”

  “Yeah, but as screwy as it sounds, I kind of like to worry about it. Every day I’m with him, I feel like what we have is some fragile flower. That we’re both holding it in our hands. I know there’s a good chance that one day he’ll pull away, or I will, and it will rip apart, or just fall away, but every day that we do have it, it feels so beautiful. It’s an intense feeling.”

  “You don’t think it will last?”

  She shrugged. “Sooner or later, he’ll find someone prettier.”

  “Jesus, that sounds so damaged. You’re gorgeous, Tiff.”

  “I’ll never be pretty enough to keep him. That’s just the man he is.”

  “Sounds like a shithead.”

  “He’s really not,” she insisted. “He’s just who he is. That’s why I love him.”

  George lifted his eyebrows, struggling to understand. He took three big gulps of his margarita.

  If he does leave her one day, he thought, she’ll be shattered.

  He knew Tiffany. Every ex-boyfriend was always replaced right away with someone new. It was her way of never dealing with pain. It wouldn’t be pretty if the pain ever actually got in.

  Simone came down from upstairs, her dark brunette hair combed out and straight but still wet. She was in a loose tee and shorts, and smiled oddly at George, in a way he hadn’t seen before.

  Tiffany told her there was a burrito waiting for her in the fridge. Simone joined them at the table and tasted the margarita waiting for her. “Well that’s frickin’ delicious.” She looked around and at both of them. “What are you two birds talking about?”

  “Just boys,” Tiffany said.

  “That sounds quite gay,” George said with a laugh. “We were talking about Tiffany and Patrick. Their relationship is truly strange.”

  Simone grunted, seeming to acknowledge that fact. “He’s a reformed manwhore. Of course they have issues.”

  “We don’t have issues.”

  “Okay,” Simone said, and looked at George with a goofy grin which made him laugh.

  “We don’t!” Tiffany said, defending herself. “I’m finally getting to the point where I trust him.”

  “So,” George said, “let’s say he was alone in a room with that Lindsey girl from the party last week. You’d trust him?”

  She lifted her cup off the table and just before putting her lips to it, muttered, “I hate that bitch.”

  They laughed.

  “Hopefully,” Tiffany said, “she’ll move back to Denver when the semester is over.”

  “That’s definitely trust,” George said, shaking his head. He noticed Simone hadn’t laughed or said anything. He was trying to get a read on her, but she remained with her concentration on the drink in her hands.

  He wondered if Patrick had ever tried something on her. Hell, who was he kidding, of course he probably had. But George knew Simone
as well as he knew Tiffany, and knew that they would never quibble or betray one another over a guy.

  “What about Josh?” Tiffany put forward, obviously wanting the pressure off of herself.

  Simone frowned. “What about him?”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “We aren’t together officially, so there’s no need for trust, yet.”

  “That’s sad, for some reason,” George said.

  “Summer’s coming up,” Simone said, putting up her hands. “I don’t know if I even want a boyfriend.”

  Tiffany gave her a disappointed look. “You say that about every guy. Is there anyone who’s good enough?”

  “He’s good enough. I’m just not sure I want good enough.”

  “Fair point,” George said. “He does seem on edge all the time. Protective.”

  “See,” Simone said, looking at Tiffany, “I told you. It’s true, he likes me more than I like him. I can’t be in a relationship like that.”

  “But you do like him,” Tiffany fired back. “Don’t be crazy just because you have issues with guys. Plus, you said he was pretty good in bed.”

  “Tiffany!”

  “What? It’s just George. He doesn’t care.”

  Simone looked to George, her black hair tossed with the whipping motion of her neck. He hid the fact that he did care beneath a neutral face. The last thing he wanted to hear about was some other guy in bed with her.

  “He’s fine in bed,” Simone said, reluctant to divulge anymore.

  “If you break it off,” Tiffany said, “it will make things difficult for me with Patrick. Josh is like the one person he’s protective of.”

  George recalled bits and pieces of his conversation with Patrick on the way to the liquor store and how he had been asking Patrick a bunch of questions about Josh and Simone. He realized now that maybe Patrick had mentioned it to Josh. It made sense.

  Simone sipped her drink and then arched her neck backward. “I told you when we started this that it might not work out, but you pushed anyway.”