Полина Саймонс – The Tiger Catcher (страница 11)

Ashton and Riley both stood at the glass counter by the register, glaring at Julian, their arms crossed. Of course Ashton, who took nothing seriously, was glaring at Julian mock critically, and his arms were mock crossed. He was mimicking Riley to present a supposed united front and hiding from her his persistent yawning.

“What’s up.” Julian rattled his keys.

“Why don’t you tell us,” Riley said, her skirt suit without a wrinkle, her honey blonde hair blow-dried glass-straight, her makeup impeccable, her posture like a ballerina’s. She stood in fine contrast to her slumped, torn-tank-ripped-jeans-and-half-awake boyfriend. “Did you end it with Gwen last night?”

“Ah.” Julian should’ve known Gwen would call Riley immediately.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do I have to explain everything to you?” He was being glib. Gwen and Riley were best friends. He knew he’d have to explain himself. He just didn’t want to.

“Gwen’s very upset, Jules,” Riley said. “She says you wasted her time, made her believe things that weren’t true. She doesn’t understand what happened. She told me you were planning to propose in Cabo next month!”

Julian shook his head. That was Gwen wishcasting.

“Breaking up is bad enough,” Riley went on, “but why did you lie to her?”

“I didn’t lie—”

“Yes, you did. You told her you met someone.”

Ashton was shaking his head, too.

“What are you shaking your head for?” Julian said.

“Who could you possibly meet? I saw you Monday night, and you hadn’t met anyone,” Ashton said. “But suddenly yesterday you met someone?”

“That’s how it works,” Julian said. “That’s why it’s called meeting someone.”

“Yeah, ‘kay,” Ashton said. “Look, if you want to lie, fine, but why be so bad at it?”

Riley twisted to Ashton, her shoulder-length bob swinging. “Do you mean it would be okay for him to lie if he was better at it?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“Hey! This isn’t about me. He’s the one who’s lying and breaking up and shit. What are you getting on my case for?” Ashton threw Julian a wait-until-I-get-ahold-of-you glare.

Julian rubbed his chin with his middle finger in reply.

“Look, Jules,” Riley said. “I don’t have time for this. I was on the phone with Gwen until two in the morning and had to be at work today at seven. We have a shipment of uninspected cherry tomatoes coming in from Arkansas, and yet here I am with you instead of my tomatoes because of the mess you’ve made. Bottom line is, Gwen and I talked it over, and she said she’d be willing to make some changes—if that’s what you need.”

Julian shook his head. “It’s not what I need.”

“You know, Julian”—and here Riley used her slow, wise high-handed tone—“if you thought your relationship needed work, why didn’t you just talk to her? You two have been together a long time. You don’t think she deserved a conversation?”

“We had a conversation,” Julian said.

“But you didn’t have to make things up if all you wanted was to shake things up.”

“That’s not what I want, and it’s not what I did.”

“Really?” Riley stuck her hand on her hip in a kettle pose. “You didn’t lie when you told Gwen that you and Ashton flipped a coin—for her!—and you won? Why would you say a thing like that?”

“Yes, Julian,” Ashton said, now scowling for real. “Why the hell would you say a thing like that?”

“It’s not obvious why?” Julian said. “To make Gwen feel better.”

Riley swirled to Ashton. “Is it true, Ashton Bennett? That you and I only hooked up because you lost a coin toss? That I was your consolation prize? Because you know, sometimes that’s exactly how you treat me.”

“No, sunshine, of course it’s not true,” Ashton said, putting his broad arm around Riley’s shoulder and drawing her to him. Riley was tall, but Ashton was taller. “You heard him, he only said it to make Gwen feel better.” Icy blue glare from Ashton’s ice blue eyes. “Right, Jules?”

Julian swore under his breath. “Ash is right,” he said. “I only said it to make Gwen feel better.” He closed his fist around his sharp keys.

“Julian, you’ve always had trouble talking through things.” Riley was using her calm, psychoanalytical voice. “You’re a little broody, you keep your emotions bottled up. That’s not good. You keep acting like nothing’s bothering you …”

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“And then, instead of working things out, you tell Gwen you met somebody.”

“But I did,” Julian said, “meet somebody.”

“Shut up,” Ashton said. “Stop making everything worse with your talking.”

“I already told you, Gwen’s agreed to make changes,” Riley said. “While she doesn’t condone your passive-aggressiveness, she’s willing to do what needs to be done to re-commit to you.”

“Let me get this straight,” Julian said. “My breaking up with Gwen to her face is passive-aggressive, but her sending a proxy to discuss our relationship, that’s facing the matter head on?”

The unflappable Riley continued; she had a list to get through on her way to the cherry tomatoes. “Gwen says she’s willing to go to a boxing match with you in Vegas if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“She will also,” Riley went on, “stop hassling you to get a real job.”

“That might be good advice not just for Gwen,” Ashton said.

Riley flipped up her exquisitely manicured hand to stop Ashton from speaking. “Excuse me,” she said. “I can’t deal with you right now. I’m trying to salvage their relationship.” She took an exasperated breath. “Gwen also said,” Riley continued, resuming her professional, no-nonsense manner, “that she’d be willing to do that other thing you want to do with her that she’s been saying no to.”

“That might be good advice not just for Gwen,” said Ashton.

“Ashton Bennett, this is not the time for your jokes! Jules, my opinion?” Riley airbrushed over her body. “It would help you spiritually if you had a mud bath. In the ocean flats at low tide, followed by apitherapy. Both will do wonders for your anxiety problem.”

Julian tried not to exchange so much as a blink with Ashton. “Apitherapy, Riles? Is that where I’m attacked by bees or where I’m stabbed by needles?”

“Not attacked,” she said defensively. “You are judiciously stung by bees to rid yourself of impurities, spiritual as well as physical.”

“I don’t need to be stung by bees,” Julian said. “I spend my days looking for hacks to prevent other people from being stung by bees. And also—I don’t have an anxiety problem …”

Julian’s cell phone rang. It was 9:07 a.m.

“Hello?” Josephine’s voice breathed into his phone. She could seduce the monks in all the missions in California with that liquored-up voice.

“Yes?” Julian kept it cool. He lifted his one-minute finger to Riley and Ashton—frozen in scolding poses by the counter—and turned his back on them.

“Who is this?” Josephine said.

“Who is this?” Julian said. “You’re calling me.”

“Well, I know I’m calling you,” she said, “but someone called your number from my cell phone at 4:49 p.m. yesterday and I know it couldn’t have been me because I was on stage. Yet there it is. Your number in my phone.”

What was Julian supposed to say?

“Good morning, Josephine,” he said quietly.

“Hi, Julian.” She giggled. “You could’ve just asked for my number. I would’ve given it to you. Listen, what are you doing right now?”

“Like today?” he said. “Or this minute?”

“Sooner. I have a situation. Can you come by? Hey, why are you talking so low?” She lowered her voice, too. “Who’s listening?”

Ashton appeared next to his shoulder. “What the hell? We’re not done.”

“Be right there.” Julian hung up and turned to his friend. The two men were alone in the store. “Where’s Riley?”

“She left,” Ashton said. “She couldn’t wait around for you to be done with your call. She said we weren’t finished with our conversation.”

“Oh,” said Julian, “of course not.” He jingled his keys. “Can you hold the fort for a bit? I gotta run out. Be back in a jiff.”