Always the Last to Know Read online

  Then Carla will check my work and move things around to her liking. And I’ve mostly made my peace with that.

  ***

  “What did you do, stuff these pillows with bricks?” Riley asks as he struggles to carry the box labeled ‘pillows’ into my room.

  I smile, “That box is actually full of books. I just labeled it ‘pillows’ because I knew that you would offer to carry the lightest thing possible.”

  Riley drops the box onto my new bedroom floor and turns to glare at me.

  “So, that box you’re carrying really isn’t full of,” he looks over and reads the box, “’plates and other heavy things’, is it?”

  “Nope, just some clothes.” I shrug and sit the box down.

  Riley shakes his head at me, “You’re evil.”

  “You’re gullible.” I say with a laugh, but he’s still glaring at me. “Come on, don’t give me that look. You’re bringing me down, man, and I’ve been having a good day.”

  “I would say so, just carrying two-pound boxes of material while I’m here breaking my back hauling ninety-pound boxes of books into my home, all unbeknownst to me. Yeah, you’re having a great day, while the rest of us are slaving away for. . .”

  “I got a job!” I pronounce loudly, not only because I am still not sick of saying it, but to also shut him up.

  It does the trick. Riley stops talking and cocks his head to side to look at me.

  “The translating job at the hospital. They offered me the job today.”

  Riley breaks out into a smile, “Congratulations, Jess.” He leans in and embraces me in a hug.

  I hug him back awkwardly. Riley and I don’t hug. Frog each other in the arm, yes, but never do we ever hug.

  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad hug or anything. Riley has surprisingly strong arms. Of course, he has used the basketball goal in the parking lot behind my apartment to his advantage to work on his lay-up. Too bad perfecting a lay-up doesn’t help him beat me at a game of Horse.

  “So, um, should we go ahead and get the stuff for Carla and Evan’s wedding present together?” I ask, breaking away from him. He nods as I try to dig my keys out of my purse. I throw Annie’s novel on my nightstand – the biggest piece of furniture I could fit in my car – as I escape further into my bag for the keys. By the time I find my keys, Riley already has the story in his hands.

  “Confines of the Heart? I take it that Annie’s writing trashy romance novels now?” Riley asks as he flips through the manuscript.

  “I have no idea; I haven’t even started reading it yet.” I reply quietly. I guess I’m naïve but I hadn’t even thought that Annie’s novel might be kind of slutty.

  Forget being naïve, I’m just plain stupid for not realizing that. I mean, it’s Annie. She’ll use every medium possible if it means that her sexual adventures get told. And, since some of her sexcapades are illegal in most states, she can only discuss them through a work of fiction. This all makes perfect sense.

  “It might not be a smut book.” I defend Annie, “It could be a beautiful love story about a prisoner of war who never stops loving the girl he left back home and. . .”

  “He entered her sex deeply with his sturdy sword of manhood.” Riley reads from the packet before smiling at me in victory. “Told you.”

  “You made that up.” I grab the papers from his hand to see for myself. I find the passage just as Riley makes a huffing sound.

  “Never would I refer to any dude’s dick as a sturdy sword of manhood.”

  I nod, “That is true. After all, you did name your penis Knudsen.”

  I look up from the pages to see Riley glaring at me.

  “Do you want help moving your stuff in or not?”

  I mumble an apology, even though I don’t mean it. Riley seems to accept it and looks around my room as I continue to read on through the ridiculously detailed sex scene in Annie’s book that sounds vaguely familiar to a story that Annie has told me about her own sexcapades.

  “Since I’m helping you move in and all, would you want to do me a favor and go to my mom’s tomorrow and eat dinner with her new boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, I’d rather be stuck in a math class being stung by really angry wasps for five years than sit through dinner with you and your mother’s boyfriend.”

  “That’s too bad since I already told her you were coming.”

  I drop Annie’s trash novel and stare at Riley. “You do realize that I know where you live, right? I know where you sleep, where you shower, where you eat, where you keep your ridiculous amounts of CDs.”

  He rolls his eyes, ignoring my subtle threats, and picks up Annie’s manuscript as I continue to scowl at him.

  Riley flips through the manuscript, “If it helps, this is all your fault. You’re the one who saw Mom and this guy going at it.”

  “They were kissing outside the paint shop, not going down on each other in the supply room.” Riley looks up with a disgusted look on his face. “And his name is Bill, by the way. He’s a vet. Which means that he’s probably a really great guy who likes animals, and would probably respect you for adopting Jackson from the animal shelter.” I smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to have someone actually respect you?”

  Ignoring my jab, Riley leans toward me to sit Annie’s manuscript on my nightstand, located behind me. After the papers are on the nightstand, Riley doesn’t move away from me. I know it’s not intentional but Riley has been in my personal bubble in the past week more than he has in the past twenty-two years of my life. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s very odd. In more ways than one. Especially when his bright green eyes with the emerald specks in them lock in with mine and render me totally helpless.

  “Come on, Jess, I need you there with me. People like you, and you can babble on forever with any stranger and. . .”

  “Was that an insult?”

  “- - and this is so weird for me and what’s even weirder is that I know that I can’t go through this without you.” He shrugs, “It’ll mean a lot to me. And my mom.”

  This is a guilt trip if I ever heard one. And I have heard plenty of them, seeing as how my mother is the Queen of the Guilt Trip. Hell, I’m not entirely sure that she’s not the one who invented it.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

  “Thanks, Jess.” Relief washes over Riley’s face and he gives me a quick hug. When we part, he frogs me in the shoulder, “I’ll need you to make brownies too.”

  Asshole.

  Seven

  Sunday, June 28th

  “Why am I meeting this guy again?” Riley looks at the house as he parks his Jeep dangerously close to the black BMW in his mom’s driveway.

  “Because you love your mom and want to be supportive. And, once again, his name is Bill Giez. He tries to volunteer at the retirement center on weekends. He likes Ghostbusters and The Rolling Stones.” I ramble as I check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I feel Riley’s eyes on me, waiting for an explanation. I shrug, “Myspace.”

  “And this is why I put up with you and take you places.”

  “Aww, that was almost sweet, Callahan.” I turn to smile at him, expecting to see that half-smile of his in return but it’s not there. He looks. . . serious.

  That’s a little concerning.

  “Seriously Jess, I’m glad you’re here.” He gestures toward his mom’s house. “This is. . . it’s weird. I don’t know what to think, and you know me best. You know how to see me through.”

  I don’t know how to respond to Riley’s sincerity, so I just make a comment about heading inside and getting this over with as soon as possible. Riley agrees and we make our way to the house in silence.

  Riley reaches toward the doorknob but lets his hand fall back to his side.

  “Should I knock?” He looks at me like I’m a beacon of knowledge on this subject. I’m just here to mediate. And to present a peace offering of brownies.

  Before I have to come up with an answer for him, the door opens, revealing a smiling
Ms. Callahan.

  “Riley!” She exclaims as she hugs him tightly. “It’s so good to see you!” Wow, she’s awfully loud and energetic. Is she drunk?

  “Have you been hitting the sauce, Mom?” Riley, evidently reading my mind, asks in his mom’s bear hug of an embrace.

  She ignores him and focuses on me.

  “Jess, I’m so glad you came.”

  Yeah, since I’m the one who blabbed the news of her secret boyfriend, I’m sure that she wants me here to be part of what is bound to be the most awkward dinner in the history of the world.

  You know, if Ms. Callahan poisoned me tonight, I wouldn’t blame her one bit.

  “Come on in, come on in.” She ushers Riley and I inside. She thanks me for the brownies, takes them from my hands, and asks us to follow her into the dining room to meet Bill.

  “Bill, I want you to meet my son.” I don’t miss the shove Ms. Callahan gives Riley right in the back. “This is Riley.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things.” Bill says, shaking Riley’s head.

  “Yeah, um, you too.” Riley replies uneasily. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. Before I can really assess the situation, Riley shoves me in front of him like I’m his personal human shield. “This is Jess.”

  “Hello.” I smile at Bill as I shake his hand.

  “So you’re Riley’s girlfriend?” At my confused face, and I imagine Riley’s as well, Bill’s face turns red. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Molly’s just told me that you two just moved in together and I thought that. . .” He completely gives up talking as his face turns even redder.

  “We’re not dating.” Riley and I both say slowly.

  Ms. Callahan flits to Bill’s side and puts an arm around him. “Don’t worry about it; they could fool anyone.”

  I have to admit that Bill and Ms. Callahan look quite adorable together. Ms. Callahan reaches just past his shoulders and her light complexion somehow matches his tanned face. They way they smile at each other make them look like parents from an old TV show. And it takes every fiber of my being to suppress an ‘aww’ when he wraps an arm around her waist. Of course, while I find this absolutely precious, Riley looks like his eyes might just go bouncing out of his head.

  “So,” Ms Callahan says, sensing the awkward silence strangling us all, “dinner should be about ready. Bill, will you help me in the kitchen?”

  “Sure thing, dear.” He smiles at Riley and me before following Ms. Callahan into the kitchen.

  My God, they are so precious.

  “I don’t like him.”

  I turn to give Riley a good stare, “You don’t like anybody.”

  “So what’s one more person?”

  “You have to be nice, Riley. This means a lot to your mom.” I add, “Besides, he seems like a good guy.”

  “He’s too handsy.”

  I smack my hand to my forehead, “May God have pity on your daughters.”

  “Sit across from me.”

  “So that I can kick you easier? Okay.” I slide in the chair across from Riley with a smile.

  He sticks his tongue out at me. “No, so the lovebirds won’t be able to sit next to each other and play footsy under the table.”

  Oh. My. God.

  I call him a doofus under my breath just as Ms. Callahan and Bill come into the room, Ms. Callahan with a giant pot and Bill with a cookie sheet of garlic cheesy bread.

  “You all like spaghetti, right?” Ms. Callahan asks, looking around the table. I nod and Riley remains unresponsive, which earns him his first kick of the night.

  “If you made it, I know I’ll like it.” Bill smiles and gives Ms. Callahan a quick peck on the cheek. Riley kicks me under the table at Bill’s action.

  How is Riley not finding all of this adorable? I mean, really? It’s absolutely precious. It’s cuter than a basket full of puppies.

  “Molly tells me that you’re an architect.” Bill says to Riley as he scoops spaghetti onto his plate.

  Riley barely nods his head as a response. I kick him again.

  “What made you decide to go into that field?”

  “My dad.” Riley says as he yanks a breadstick off the cookie sheet.

  Bill nods, “Molly told me that he was a great guy.”

  “He was.”

  Ms. Callahan clears her throat, “So, Jess, I hear you got some good news.”

  Being allowed to leave this table would be good news.

  “Yeah, I got a translating job at the hospital.”

  “Congratulations.” Bill and Ms. Callahan say in unison and smile at me.

  “Thanks.” I say meekly and stare at my plate of spaghetti as the room goes silent again, save for our forks scratching against our plates.

  I look at Riley and he’s staring right back at me. With Ms. Callahan and Bill’s eyes focused on their plates, I mouth ‘talk’ to Riley. He replies with ‘about what?’ and I almost yell out ‘anything’, but manage to mouth it silently. He shakes his head and I kick him under the table.

  “Are you all getting excited for the wedding?” Bill asks, looking at me and Riley.

  I nod, “Not as excited as Carla, but, then again, I don’t think anyone is as excited as she is.”

  “She seemed really exuberant about it.”

  Exuberant? That’s the same word that Ms. Callahan used when talking about me moving in with Riley. She said that he was exuberant, and here is her boyfriend using that same word to describe Carla’s emotions a week before her wedding. I don’t think they’re using the same dictionary as everyone else. Maybe I should buy them a copy of Webster’s for Christmas.

  “What about you, Riley? Molly’s told me that you’re walking Carla down the aisle. That’s really nice of you.”

  “Thanks.” Riley says quietly.

  The room falls back into silence. I ask Bill about his job as a vet and he talks about it for a few minutes, continually trying to get Riley into the conversation but fails. I have to give Bill credit though; he’s coping well with Riley being an asshole. I wish I could say the same but it’s come to the point that kicking Riley in the leg has become a sort of reflex for me.

  The silence falls among us again and stays there until Ms. Callahan asks me to help her with the dishes, and nods her head toward Riley quickly. I agree, anything to get me out of that room. I grab a few plates and follow her into the kitchen, leaving Riley and Bill alone at the dining room table in complete and total silence.

  “How do you think it’s going?” Ms. Callahan asks as she drops the plates in the sink to soak.

  I should be honest with her and tell her that was the most uncomfortable, nerve-rattling dinner I have ever sat through.

  “I think it’s going okay.”

  Oh, come on, I can’t tell her the truth. She likes Bill so much, and knowing that Riley and I spent the entire meal kicking each other under the table whenever Bill touched his mom’s hand or when Riley was being a jackass would break her heart.

  “I knew that Riley wasn’t handling this well, but I honestly didn’t think he was this upset about it. He looked like he was in pain ever since we sat down.”

  Oops. I guess kicking him under the table wasn’t the best idea.

  “I just wanted this to go well.” She says, shaking her head sadly before beginning to load the dishwasher.

  I can’t let her feel like this. I just can’t.

  “I’m going to grab some more dishes.” I retreat back into the dining room where the two men are sitting in silence and doing anything they can to keep from making eye contact.

  Wait. . . did I really just refer to Riley as a man? Huh, weird.

  “Riley,” I try to get a conversation flowing, “weren’t you telling me that UK’s point guard is going to be out next season with a knee injury?”

  “What?” He looks at me with an eyebrow raised. “I didn’t tell you. . .” I kick him in the shin.

  “You like UK?” Bill asks, giving me a surprised look.

&n
bsp; “Yeah, but Riley here is the true fan. Actually, didn’t you write your thesis over the history of their basketball program?” I clamp a hand on his shoulder.

  “It wasn’t a thesis paper.” He says between clenched teeth and I squeeze his shoulder hard, digging what little nail I have into his skin through his shirt. He turns back to Bill, “It was just a research paper over Adolf Rupp for my History of Sports class.”

  “I just bought season tickets for next year. If you ever want to go to a game some time, just let me know.”

  “Really?” Riley’s eyes light up like a little kid seeing a brand new bicycle under the tree on Christmas morning.

  I smile and head back into the kitchen to leave the two of them engrossed in conversation.

  ***

  Riley talks the entire way back to my apartment about how great a guy Bill is. I manage not to say ‘I told you so’, even though I totally told him so. While I was helping Ms. Callahan in the kitchen, Bill and Riley were comparing different basketball seasons between each other and arguing over who was the best coach.

  “Oh, and he hates Duke.” Riley says happily.

  “Every UK fan hates Duke. Hell, I think even Duke fans hate Duke.” And, if they don’t hate Duke, then they should. Stupid Duke basketball.

  You know, come to think of it, I’m not even sure why I hate Duke. I just know that I’m an UK fan and, part of the fandom means that I have to hate Duke with ever fiber of my being. And, boy do I hate me some Duke.

  “He has season tickets too. Season tickets, Reynolds.”

  “That’s great, Callahan.” I smile as I dig through my purse for my keys. You know, I’m not so sure that Riley doesn’t have a crush on his mom’s boyfriend. He’s so happy, though, that I can’t even tease him about it.

  He stops the Jeep in front of my building, still mumbling about the tickets and wondering whether or not the seats are close to where Ashley Judd will be sitting.

  “Okay, I’m getting out of here before you build a mini-shrine to your mom’s boyfriend.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door. With one leg in the car and one out of the car, Riley grabs my hand and squeezes it.