Ким Карр - Mended

I quickly focus my eyes on the TV. “Bring it, baby.” The word baby slips out. Ivy remains still for a moment, but Leif doesn’t seem to notice.

With the Lakers just catching their stride, Garrett, in all his annoyance, stands in front of me. “Hey, why don’t you make like Michael Jackson and beat it? My turn.”

“Beat it yourself, asswipe. We’re not in elementary school.”

“Right! So take your loss like a man and move on out so a real player can beat a chick,” he says, snatching the remote from me.

I stand up. “This ought to be good. You haven’t beaten me in anything since . . . oh yeah, never. Unless you cheat, that is.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says and starts to play.

I lean against the window to watch. But under her breath I hear Ivy mutter, “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

I’ve had just about enough of leaving the past in the past. It’s time to have that conversation I’ve been holding back on. So when Nix walks in the room, I ask him, “Nix, why don’t you take over for Ivy? I need to talk to her about something.”

She glares at me with a fierceness in her eyes I’m not used to seeing, but I’m ready—it’s time to come clean. I nod toward her bedroom and she stands with a huff, throwing the controller down. “Xander, I told you let’s leave the past in the past,” she tells me in a whisper.

Leif’s phone rings and when he looks at the screen, he heads our way. “Mind if I go in your room, Ivy? It’s Amber and I think I should grovel in private.”

“Take your time. I’m fine out here,” she tells him, directing all her coldness my way.

Garrett looks up at me. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” I answer and head for the front lounge for another cup of sludge, but as I walk I wonder if telling her the truth even matters.

Less than an hour later we pull into the Hyatt Regency at the Cleveland Arcade. I’m in the galley on the phone with Ena making sure the merchandise for this week’s shows will arrive on time, not late like last week.

“It doesn’t fucking help to have T-shirts at a concert once the concert is over,” I tell her.

“I know, Xander, but I can’t control the pace at which UPS decides to move.”

“Ena, just overnight the shit for next week. We’re missing out on a huge financial opportunity.”

“Okay, I will. But just remember when you pay the bills, it was your idea.”

“Right. I gotta run. I’ll check in tomorrow.” I hit END and hoist my bag onto my shoulder—so ready to get off this bus.

Entering the hotel, I glance around. This place is completely cool. It’s two large buildings linked together by a wall of glass-framed windows. By far one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture I’ve ever seen, with its old railings and wooden trim. In its day it must have been a place to see.

I get us all checked in and luckily we each have our own room. Garrett takes the room keys while I sign for everything. When I turn around, everyone has disappeared. The lobby is oddly quiet, but the bar is not. A happy hour sign reads TWO FOR ONE. The elevators are to the right of the bar and Leif stands near them, just staring off into space.

Approaching him, I ask, “How’d it go?”

“Not well. She’s in love with someone else. That’s the real reason she wanted to break up.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks. But better to find out now. How about I take you out tonight? Get your mind off everything,” I ask as I press the UP button.

“Just tell me where and when.”

“There’s a club in the warehouse district with a band playing I’ve heard a lot about. I’m going to check them out later. Meet me in the lobby around ten.” The elevator doors open and we get in.

“I plan to get really shitfaced. I’m just warning you now.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I remember the shit River and Dahlia went through last year when I had to take care of his sorry ass after he tried to drown himself in booze rather than tell her what he knew. Not that I haven’t done the same many times. So, shit, a guy whose girl broke up with him—I can handle that.

Ordinarily, I love staying in a hotel—a room to myself, privacy, a decent shower, and a comfortable bed. But by the time I exit the elevator a few hours later, I already miss having Ivy close. So I’m not only surprised but somewhat elated when I hit the lobby and see her sitting in a plush chair near the lounge. I didn’t realize she was coming with us—not that I mind. She’s on the phone, so I just nod a quick hello to her. She gives me a slight smile in return. She’s a knockout in a black minidress and flat sandals. Her hair is down and straight, with a few strands draping over her eyes. I wish I could push them aside so I could see the deep blue of her eyes. I find Nix and Garrett standing near the bar, deep in conversation. Leif doesn’t seem to be down here yet. The bar is open to the lobby, so as I walk up to them I catch the conversation.

“Who’s Phoebe?” Garrett asks Nix.

“That teacher I met at the party at the Pelican. She’s from San Francisco.”

“Sorry. No recollection of you hanging with any girl, especially a smart one.”

“Fuck off,” Nix snaps.

“What’s all the talk about a girl?” I ask them.

Garrett knocks shoulders with Nix. “This guy over here invited a chick to fly out and meet him, and she arrives tonight.”

“No shit. Are you serious?” I’m somewhat impressed that Nix cares about anyone enough to make an extra effort. It’s the first I’ve ever seen him do something like this.

“Fuck, I remember her now. She was the one wearing that slinky purple number with the really low-cut neck, wasn’t she?” Garrett makes a gesture with his fists on his chest and shakes them.

Nix scowls. “You’re so immature, Flynn. Get a life and get out of mine.”

Leif walks across the lobby wearing neatly pressed jeans and a starched button-down—slightly more dressed up than the rest of us—Ivy excluded, of course. Who the hell irons their jeans anyway? Ivy notices him and quickly gets off the phone, and they both approach us at the same time.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks Leif.

He nods. “Never better. I’m ready to let off some steam on the dance floor.”

“Are we going to a dance club?” she asks, looking my way.

“I’m not sure if it’s a dance club per se, but they must have a dance floor since there’s a band.”

She giggles. “Still don’t dance?”

I give a slight shake of my head and our eyes find each other and lock together for a moment. A flush passes over her face. Was her question a slip? This is the first acknowledgment she’s made out loud in front of others that she knows me from years ago. The softness in her voice and the look in her eyes tell me she remembers how she used to try to get me on the dance floor. Her only victory was her senior prom, where I danced every slow dance with her.

“Let’s hit it. I’m ready to party.” Leif steps in, oblivious to the connection Ivy and I are sharing.

When Garrett adds, “Yeah, let’s party like it’s 1999,” our stare falters and laughter overtakes all of us.

Outside, the night is warm and the sky is clear—a perfect summer evening that holds the prospect of a good time. This is just what we all need after the vigorous schedule we’ve been keeping. The waiting SUV approaches and Nix hops in the front seat while Garrett and Leif climb in the back, leaving the middle bench seat open. “Your carriage awaits,” I joke, bowing and motioning with my hand that she is next.

She laughs. “I wish!”

When she disappears into the vehicle, I can’t help but notice how perfect her ass looks. I step in and before I even settle in my seat, I feel it—the energy that zaps through my body whenever she’s close. The guys are talking about the city and what they plan on doing tomorrow, but I’m lost in my own thoughts. I glance down, unable to stop myself from looking at her. When I do, I find that her minidress is riding up so high I can see the lacy bottom of her boy shorts. I run my hands over my face—the sight of her skin mixed with the lace does things to my body that I have to make myself suppress. I’m also pretty sure I could see the crotch of her panties if it were light enough in here.

Leaning over, I whisper, “Don’t you think your dress is a bit short?”

She laughs and tucks into my side. Her warm breath on my neck makes me grip the seat to stop from running my hands between her thighs. “I like it that way. You never know when it will come in handy,” she purrs.

My jaw clenches and I shut up—I’m not used to hearing her talk like that, and I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth if I say anything else. I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she’s not that kind of girl. I also know I’d never let anything like that happen.

We arrive at the Black Dog later than I planned. It’s a bit off the beaten path, so I’m already expecting the hole-in-the-wall that we walk into. It’s dark, dingy, and smells like smoke, but jam-packed. We push our way through the pulsating throng of people and toward the bar. “Five shooters,” I mouth to the bartender. He nods and melts away into the cries of the other thirsty customers. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I look around. Bright lights from the neon signs on the wall illuminate the faces in the crowd, but I can’t locate the band. There is a floor above us that seems to be a loft of sorts with tables and chairs, and a floor directly below us where I can see the tops of people’s bopping heads, which tells me there’s a dance floor down there.

When the band starts playing, my ears go on instant alert so I can zero in on their sound. I hear a trumpet in the mix of a guitar and drums, and it reminds me of something my dad would appreciate. Anything out of the ordinary, anything that would bring attention and help speed a single up the charts. Something he would latch onto and study—that was just his thing.