The Do-Over(66)
Author: Suzanne Park
Thinking back to earlier in the semester, he had never asked me for my number. He had it saved in his phone all along.
Jake gathered me into his strong arms, and the moment our bodies connected, my skin pricked as currents of electricity raced through me. “I’m still figuring out a lot of shit about my future, and it may still take a while to get it all sorted out. But one thing I know for damn sure . . . I want you in it.”
He clarified, “In my future. Not in my shit.”
I choked out a laugh, then wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed. My cheek pressed against his firm, muscular chest, and I could hear his heart beating hard and fast.
“We better get going.” He loosened his grip and shoved his weather-chapped hands into his jacket pockets again. I locked my arm into the crook of his arm and we continued walking. As we stepped onto the sidewalk on Center Street, he bent down to unroll his jogger cuffs.
“Don’t worry, I’m keeping any smutty thoughts about your ankles to myself,” I joked.
“Much appreciated,” he quipped back. “Remember, look up here.” Forming a V, he pointed his index and middle fingers at his face.
I gazed into his eyes and sighed. No problem.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The O’Haras picked the venue this time. The Parlor was a wine bar plus bookstore that had recently opened on the Lower East Side. The atmosphere was exactly how you would imagine a secret society’s meeting place might look: collegiate-inspired, sort of haunted-looking, and while there were lit candles in actual candelabras throughout the venue, it was hard to see for that very reason. There were overstuffed leather chairs arranged around a fireplace where patrons could grab a drink, buy a book, and read it by the crackling fire.
The hostess led us to a back area that astounded me with its vast size. She explained, “We just opened this area up for events and you’re our inaugural guests. Giggles comedy club behind us closed last year and we connected the buildings and converted the space.”
“Giggles?” I asked. “I thought that was a strip club. Wasn’t it called Jiggles?”
She laughed. “Wow, you remember that? Yes, before Giggles was Jiggles. Needless to say, our owner didn’t want to continue with the rhyming names.”
As we continued walking, that was all I could think about.
Wiggles.
Squiggles?
Wriggles.
Pickles?
She interrupted my train of thought. “I’ll take you to the green room, which is actually just our storage room, but with snacks.”
We passed through the main room, where the event would be held. Several rows of seats were already claimed by early arrivals, and three chairs with accompanying microphone stands had been arranged on the stage in front. Mia and Jake had just arrived, carrying several plastic grocery bags in their hands, fussing around the tables in the back. I waved hello, but they were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice.
It was more comical than anything. Thanks for blowing me off at my own event, Mia and Jake!
The green room, aka storage area, was lined with boxes of books. A few were opened and I could see copies of my title as well as the O’Haras’ new release in some of them.
After settling on a blue velvety plush chair as my resting place, I used the extra time to look over the latest notes I’d jotted down in Mia’s apartment. A wave of nausea hit me as I flipped through the pages, and a short bout of stomach pain jolted me upright. It wasn’t likely hunger or low blood sugar, since I had eaten a big lunch and had an apple and a handful of nuts and crackers just before leaving Mia’s apartment. More likely, it was anxiety manifesting again, but I ate a piece of a granola bar from my purse just in case. Wiping the crumbs from my blouse to the floor, I looked around to make sure no one saw the mess I’d created.
Ten minutes prior to the start of the event, I received a text from Mia. I’m here in the front row with Jake. If you need me to ask the first Q in the Q&A, shoot me a look
What look
IDK . . . like someone just took the last good doughnut in the box look
What???
Like you bit into a cookie thinking it was chocolate chip and it was oatmeal raisin
Cameron came bursting into the green room and scanned the area for somewhere to sit. He grumbled, “Why are there no normal chairs in here? I’ve been on my feet all day presenting to investors, all I want is to rest my weary feet and to get this event over with.”
In a formal and restrained tone, I said hello to him. He didn’t greet me back.
Cameron’s sister lagged a few steps behind, so I waved at her. The nice O’Hara.
“Hi, Mary,” I offered with genuine enthusiasm.
Cameron stomped around the perimeter, offering unsolicited commentary on all the unshelved stacks of books. “Cozy mystery? Historical romance? Are you kidding me? Where are all the real books? The business hardcovers?”
He came full circle back to his original spot. “I hope it’s okay if I go unscripted. Mary can ask the prepared questions.”
She shot him a look. “Wait, Cam, we agreed on the way here that we’d alternate questions.”
“And we will—you can ask the scripted ones, and I’ll ask whatever I want. And we’ll alternate.” He scoffed again and crossed his arms. “I’m sure she’s great at thinking on her feet. Right, Lily?”
Mary pleaded, “But, Cam. That’s not cool—”
The door swung open. “Everyone’s seated. It’s time to get started and we’re right on time. The mics are live and we’ve done a sound check, so you should be all set. Go have fun!”
A wide grin spread across Cam’s smug face. “Yes, let’s go have some fun.”
* * *
THE LAST TIME I’d seen an Asian crowd this big was at my sister’s wedding.
I raised an eyebrow at Mia while the events manager read our author bios. She looked around the room and mouthed back, “Asian invasion!” Sipping from my cup of water hid my approving smile.
There was a wide demographic representation in the audience versus our last event. Mia had done a great job making sure the crowd wasn’t stacked with only O’Hara clones. Some of these friendly, eager faces looked familiar too, but I couldn’t place them.