Not Single For Long Page 2

  I’m about to offer my seat when my son calls out, “Ma’am, you can sit here!”

  We watch Will and Elliot shift seats to make room for her grateful smile, since Joe was in the middle of them. He stands in front of their knees, reaching for the steel support bar that runs atop the car, hands of every color gripping it side by side.

  “Thank you,” she smiles, putting her large handbag on her lap. “That was very kind of you.”

  Joe shrugs like it’s nothing.

  Bennett’s frown locks with Elliot’s before his friends reclaim his attention with their loud conversation. They want to see about a dinosaur video game when we get back.

  I smile, “Not a bad idea.”

  Bennett grumbles, “My kid is aware that I’ve been a shit father.”

  Josh and I know the history.

  We don’t argue.

  You can’t placate someone as smart as Bennett is, and true friends don’t need to.

  Josh offers a quiet, “You’re doing better, Benny. That’s what matters.”

  Regretful eyes drop to the distraction of his phone. “Trying every day.”

  With nothing else to do, our conversation over, I let my attention drift over the crowd, taking note of interesting faces until I stop at an older man who’s is undeniably watching Bennett. My eyes narrow as I wonder why he’s so interested in our friend. A rare fellow redhead, maybe? A shadow of how he looked before time took its toll?

  His gaze shifts to me, instinct telling him he’s being watched now. Awareness narrows his eyes, and we hold the look, me trying to place him. He looks familiar. My body jolts as the train stops, glance cutting to the window to see the signs for West 4th Street. The doors open and I look back to find him walking out of a pair of doors further down the train.

  “Huh,” I mutter, as I follow his path through our window.

  Josh leans to get a look. “What?”

  I point, “You see that old guy in the pea coat?” but the crowd swallows him.

  “Which one?”

  “Never mind. He’s gone.”

  “What about him?”

  Bennett looks up from his phone. “Mother Tuckers. Another merger I didn’t see coming, and I just dropped those options yesterday. Shit!” He checks the map for where we’ve stopped in order to gauge how far is left to go. “West 4th. What’re you guys doing tonight?”

  “Mother Tuckers?” I chuckle.

  “It’s Christina’s family’s thing. They say Tuck instead of—” He stops. “I already told you this.”

  “Yes, but it’s adorable every time.”

  “Dick.”

  “Big one, too.”

  Josh smiles and answers for us, “We’re gonna watch movies and chill out. You wanna bring Elliot and the dogs over?”

  Bennett closes his eyes. “Forgot about the dogs.” Staring off into the problem, he frowns, “Maybe they can come.”

  “You forgot about the dogs?” Josh demands. “All day today?! Don’t they need a walk?”

  Bennett’s eyebrows rise, “Calm yourself. I have a dog walker. I meant for the rooftop party at Christina’s tonight. It’s an all ages thing so the boys are welcome. But we’re supposed to sneak up because nobody is allowed on the roof. My first one. You guys are coming.”

  Josh and I look at each other. “Do we have a say?”

  “Your say is yes! You’re not leaving me surrounded by her family without reinforcements. Elliot needs Will and Joe there, too, or he’ll be bored stiff.” Bennett’s gaze drifts off again as he problem-solves aloud. “I can’t book my dog walker on a Saturday night without notice. Tried that before. Didn’t work. I really want to go to this.” He sees my grin and demands, “What, Nax?!”

  “You’re in love.”

  He barks. “What else would get me to Brooklyn?!”

  Zia

  First one there, last to leave — that was me at all of Christina and Temptest’s rooftop parties.

  But these days after walking for hours on unforgiving tile floors, my arches crave a long soak and early bedtime where I can read a book, let my mind travel to places I’m physically too tired to go.

  I’d regret if I didn’t show up, though, so that’s not an option. All of the Tuck family who lives in New York comes to these. Friends of ours, too.

  I’ll be down one friend there tonight, won’t I? Can’t believe I did what I did! Oh James. I’m so sorry.

  What was I thinking?!!

  A short nap and one protein shake later and I’m on the E Train heading deep into Brooklyn.

  I don’t realize time has flown until my phone blows up with text messages, service returned after we’ve crossed the East River. Why so many texts? They probably want me to pick up more ice. Parties always need more. Digging my cell out I frown and swipe the screen open to read five texts from James:

  Call.

  Me.

  Now.

  Zia.

  I mean it.

  Sighing, I roll my eyes and shove it back into my jacket pocket. I already told him what we did was a bad idea. A mistake. What does he want from me? What else is there to say? A knot twists in my stomach as I stew in the feeling that James needs to accept my boundaries, not force me to talk when I don’t want to.

  I don’t like pressure.

  Who does?

  Irritation is my unwanted companion during the hurried walk through graffiti-laden streets of a neighborhood not yet cool. Give it time, Christina and Tempest said when they moved here.

  How about now?

  Is now good?

  There would be more people, more businesses open, and I’d feel safer.

  With each hasty footstep my brain repeats their memorized security code like a mantra, eyes down. 8786. 8786. 8786 8786 8786. Not until the last second do I see a man standing in the shadows beside their steel front door.

  My eyes widen and I gasp, heart racing. “What are you doing here?”

  James steps into the light, phone in hand. He presses a button and my bag rings, shooting down any possibility of a lie that I had it turned off. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  I get angry when I’m scared, that’s been my way since childhood. I was nervous to begin with, and now have no patience for his shit. Ice smooths my face from the inside, and I snap, “Because there’s nothing else to say! What are you doing here?”

  His head tilts, confused. “I always come to these, Zia. Why not tonight?”

  My lips part. He’s right, but his invitation has been from me for the past year and a half or so. We’ve been friends for two. I know I didn’t invite him to this one, so I blurt before thinking, “Who told you…” and my jaw clamps at the obvious answer.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t tell Tempest we’re more than friends now.”

  I lean back on my heel, away from him. “James, just because we Tucked once...”

  “Fucked,” he snarls. “Just say the word and stop that stupid fucking game.”

  Since before I was a baby my family has said our surname, Tuck, instead of the word ‘fuck’. It’s our thing. We love it. That he’s purposefully saying fuck means he’s out to push my buttons. I really Tucking hate it when my buttons are pushed. “Don’t talk about my family like that and expect me to talk to you ever again.”

  His arms fly up. “I’m angry, Zia!”

  “I get that, James. But it doesn’t mean you’re allowed a free pass to be a Tucking jerk and insult something you used to think was fun. I told you what happened between us was a Tucking mistake. What else is there to say except to give it time and go back to how things were? Now why don’t you go home! Leave it the Tuck alone!”

  He smiles, despite himself, voice intimate, “I come to all of these parties. I know your whole family! They love me and I love them. Why can’t you see we’re meant to be together? All I think about is you.” James stares at me, takes a closer step.

  That was the problem — he says all the things a single girl wants to hear. It was this kind of talk that made
me give in and take him to bed. But the second I did it was clear we had no chemistry. At least not on my side.

  I hate to have to repeat what I told him that night, but he’s giving me no choice. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way.”

  “You enjoyed yourself, Zia. A lot.”

  “I’m afraid you are mistaken, James.”

  His eyes sharpen in denial’s glare. “You had a great time! I know you did! And it was the best sex of my life, I know that! You’re just afraid of letting me in! I’ll be patient!”

  I spin to watch him storm past me, headed for a train we’ve taken together countless times. As friends! Piece by piece the shadows swallow him until I’m finally alone. I was positive he’d insist on coming up.

  My phone beeps and I swear at it, thinking it’s him, but relax at the sight of Tempest’s photo and funny emoticons surrounding, “Are you here yet? Hurry up!”

  Keying in the security code with tense fingers I whisper, “Best sex of your life? How can that be?”

  “Zia!” comes a male voice that tenses me, but I realize in a split second that it’s a voice as familiar as my own.

  Looking over, I smile at my brother Noah, handsome as ever, strolling up as his big thumb jogs back. “Just passed James.”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Now I have to.” He leans forward to inspect me. “You didn’t.”

  “Remember wayyyyyy back when I said, ‘Don’t ask’?!”

  Noah clicks his tongue. “Oh man.”

  “I hope none of the neighbors heard us talking about the party. Ready to sneak up?”

  We take the old elevator until there’s just one flight of stairs to go. Noah opens the entrance to their roof, hushing voices on the other side. Every time I come, this makes me smile. Since everyone is on the lookout for new arrivals as the night begins, the hush-alert spreads quick that it’s silence-time. Make a noise and somebody just might push you over the edge for blowing our cover. Not really, but they’d fake doing it.

  As I shut the door, conversations spring back with the nearest family members hugging us hello. I spot Mom in the distance near the far edge, circled by her sisters, wine or beer in gesturing hands, us unnoticed thus far.

  “Grandma Lily!”

  Her small-town Georgia drawl greets us with a warm smile, “I was looking for your beautiful faces and here you are! Zia, how is the museum, honey? Still having fun?”

  Hugging Grandma erases any memory of James, her soft arms and nurturing touch, needed. “I love it there!”

  Grandpa Peter asks, “Any new exhibits I should mark into our calendar?”

  Pulling away from Grandma I chide him, “You haven’t visited the museum since I got the job.”

  “I may!”

  “You’d better!”

  Noah says, “Excuse me, I see Evan. Can I get either of you anything?”

  I smack his arm. “What about me?”

  “You don’t count.”

  “Nice. Real nice.”

  He grins and they wave him off that they’re fine, as Grandma stays on the interrupted subject, eyes sparkling. “I was on the phone with your Aunt Wink today. She’s planning a trip from California and said she’d like to come with me to your museum. Wouldn’t that be fun to have you guide us around!”

  Our grandparents, Peter and Lily Tuck, had five girls they named after flowers in honor of Grandma.

  The oldest is Rose, mother to Christina, Tempest, and Evan, respectively.

  Our mom is Alstroemeria — nicknamed Al for obvious reasons. She came second into this world, and then brought me and Noah into it, two years apart, me the older but not the wiser one.

  Lavender — nicknamed Lahvee — arrived third, and she had two children who studied abroad and never came back to live, just to visit on holidays.

  Jasmine was fourth but, tragically diagnosed with leukemia at age five, left a hole in this world still felt whenever anyone mentions her name.

  The baby of the family, their fifth and final daughter, is Periwinkle — nicknamed Wink. As a teenager, she chased a man to San Francisco and had three sons by him who I rarely see but would love to.

  That’s why I ask with hope in my heart, “Is Wink making it a family trip?”

  Grandma sighs, “Her boys all have full time jobs now, Zia. You know how that is. Harder to travel with little vacation time.”

  “I didn’t even take my vacation time last year!”

  She touches my arm, warmth in her eyes. “That’s what happens when you enjoy your job.”

  Grandpa Peter grunts, “You took the pay though, right?”

  “They roll over.”

  He relaxes. “Oh, fine then.”

  Walking up looking like a wood nymph in a bohemian dress with shiny brown hair half in braids half long and wavy, Tempest interrupts him saying, “Make sure you take those!” by overlapping with, “Zia! Noah told me you were here! Guess who’s coming tonight?”

  “Who?”

  “Christina’s boyfriend! You get to meet him! We all do. Well, I already have, but I can’t wait for you to! Come on, we have to be with her when he gets here.” Our grandparents are used to us cousins vanishing like this, and they wave us off as I follow her through the growing crowd of chatting people. “Remember what Christina always said she wanted when we were little?”

  “A warlock like I did?”

  “This was past your medieval phase.” Tempest slides her arm through mine as our footsteps learn to keep time. “What else did she want, Zia, think!”

  I throw a nod to one of my aunts knowing we’ll hug later. “A ginger?”

  “Yes!”

  My feet freeze. “Her new boyfriend’s a ginger?! Those are so rare!”

  “I know,” Tempest grins. “But I wouldn’t call him a new boyfriend. That implies a guy in line before the last boyfriend gets here.”

  “What?” I blink, shaking my head like I understood none of that. Because I didn’t.

  “When you say new it implies there are others. Her new one. And then this is her new one. And that one’s old because now this is her new one.”

  Scanning the beverage table as we pass, I ask with longing, “Can I get a glass of wine before we do this?”

  “Later.”

  Christina, in a gorgeous red dress with black strappy heels, spots me and practically shouts, “Guess who you get to meet tonight!”

  I hug her, “You look beautiful. But what I want to know is,” I separate and hold her happy gaze with one of feigned reproach, “why did I have to find out about him from my mom?”

  “I’ve been busy!”

  Leaning close with a naughty smile I whisper, “Busy Tucking your brains out, you mean?”

  Christina bursts out laughing, inspiring heads to turn and mine to grin. Pointing at me, she fakes suspicion, “Have you been spying on us?”

  Tempest grumbles, “I have forgotten what that is like.”

  Me too, until James.

  But I’ll save that poisoned apple for later.

  “So I hear the Law of Attraction really works.”

  Christina tilts her head. “Sorry?”

  “The ginger you always wanted.”

  “I did!” she grins, absolutely radiant!

  Tempest smirks, “The Law worked so well you got two of them.”

  My head swings back. “Two gingers?!”

  Christina’s enthusiasm is contagious as she cries out, “There he is!” and points.

  I laugh to Tempest, “No playing coy for her!” and turn to meet Mr. Ginger come true. But my smile fades as up walks a well tailored suit flanked by two of the handsomest friends I’d never expected.

  Tempest steps closer to me, staring, too, but for a different reason than I am. Her fingernails are digging into my hip as she stares at the brooding dark-chocolate haired model walking up on Bennett’s left.

  My time-stamped crush, the tall, dirty-blonde drink of get-in-my-bed is on his right, still in torn-up light blue jeans, but
now there’s a light jacket over his t-shirt. The knees that normally support me quite nicely nearly buckle as he grins, more attractive than ever in the moonlight, “You work at the museum! Zia, right? I remember.”

  It just got hot up here.

  My cousins stare from me to him.

  Bennett pulls Christina close, “You look beautiful,” and kisses her like we women all want to be kissed, distracting her, and inspiring Tempest and I to share a look that communicates many things in a matter of two seconds.

  I casually — I hope it’s casually! — toss back, “Where are your sons tonight, gentlemen? Babysitter?”

  My favorite dad jogs his chin toward the food. “Christina said all ages welcome. Dogs, too.”

  Tempest and I look over to see the three boys from my tour today, Joe, Will and Elliot, eagerly surveying the food and blowing my mind. Bennet’s son holds the leashes of two havanese dogs who are equally grill-curious, and equally cute.

  The sound of Christina’s voice splinters my jagged focus, bringing me back to her. “We should tell Grandma and Grandpa to bring Hank next time! You guys went to the museum? When? Oh, and you haven’t met my sister.”

  “I’ve met your sister.”

  She kisses Bennett, “Not you! Them!” Pointing to the model, she says, “Josh, this is Tempest. And that’s our cousin, Zia.” She directs her index finger at my pulse-rate-multiplier, “and that’s Nax.”

  Temp smiles, eyes on Josh, “Hi.”

  Tilting my head I clarify, “Max?” and receive an easy grin.

  “Nax. With an ’N’ as in no, not Max.”

  That smile is contagious. “I’ll never forget.”

  Tempest says to Josh, “Christina tells me you’re Bennett’s best friend?”

  He nods once.

  That’s it.

  Zero smile.

  In fact, I think that cloud he brought with him to the museum, just darkened.

  Nax

  Bennett and I exchange a look, one of dozens since I arrived in New York. Patience is what our buddy needs. You don’t suffer a tragedy like his and bounce back quickly. Let him be, I figure, and cross my arms, still surprised at running into our hot tour guide. “Cousin, huh? How many of them are you?”