Forgetting Chuck Taylor Page 3

  Trying to divert Amanda away from her line of questioning, Eva shook her head. “You’re wrong. About the date, but also about only being a client and not a friend. When I went out with Taylor, I made you this,” she said, standing to retrieve a gift box with a large silver bow from where it sat atop her desk.

  Amanda tore it open with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

  “We went to a place that teaches bookbinding. That’s about as steamy as it gets.”

  Amanda made a sound that was half laugh, half sob as she pulled the guestbook out of its swaddling of tissue paper. “You made this for me?” she asked, covering her mouth with her hand. When Eva nodded, Amanda flung the wrapping paper off of her lap and threw herself at Eva in a bear hug. “I love it.”

  “I thought for sure you’d be the one bride that would never have to ask me for Kleenex,” Eva teased. She was pleased that Amanda was so touched but even more grateful that the Taylor interrogation had come to an end.

  5

  Taylor

  Erica could execute a jab, a hook, and an undercut with perfect poise and form but had trouble with the defensive moves. Her hesitation to bob and weave or parry sometimes made it seem like she wanted to offer her body up as a punching bag instead of stay in the fight.

  She’d just ground her feet into the ring and took the blows. She was much better with a punching bag than she was with another person. If Erica was that passive, it was on purpose.

  Taylor winced from the sidelines until she knew it was time to prematurely end the bout. Going into a boxing ring, a fighter knows they’re susceptible to getting bloodied and bruised. It’s a risk you took. Today, though, Erica was taking too many risks. As a coach, Taylor had every bit as much responsibility to keep her girls safe as she did to challenge them.

  It was clear that Erica wasn’t happy about the call. She wouldn’t so much as look at Taylor as she took out her mouth guard and started to make her way to the locker room.

  Taylor stopped her, putting a gentle hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “It’s for your own good that I pulled you out. You were getting pulverized out there.”

  “I know,” Erica said.

  “Go walk some laps around the parking lot and cool down. I’ll come to find you in a few minutes when class is over.”

  Erica mopped the sweat from her brow with the towel around her neck and nodded.

  * * *

  Erica had been court mandated to participate in anger management training. After a cruel joke had been played on her at a Homecoming dance, she’d slashed tires. A lot of them. The next Monday at school, the mean girls found their precious cars a little closer to the ground than usual. Many of them also had ruined paint jobs or deep gouges in their hoods and doors.

  Erica had chosen Second Chance Boxing over traditional anger management programs. Teens twelve to eighteen gathered every week and were taught to channel their frustrations into something productive. While boxing could be a brutal sport, it was controlled and better than having someone explode in the classroom or on the street. It taught the participants to cultivate confidence and discipline, showed them rules were in place for a reason. A portion of each meeting was set aside for working on building up emotional coping mechanisms they could use outside the ring before they would learn new moves or practice the skills they’d already built with an opponent from the right weight division. Being the lightest and most petite of the boxers, Taylor had to keep a special eye on Erica as it was without her refusing to defend herself.

  Erica was sitting on the curb in front of the building when the last of the students were out and Taylor could lock up after them. Taylor eased herself down onto the cement beside her.

  “Want to tell me what that was about in there? I know defensive moves aren’t your strongest skills but you weren’t even trying.”

  Erica took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks before she answered. “I didn’t block the punches because I deserved them.”

  “Honey, no. No you didn’t. Why would you think that?”

  “I screwed up big time. You know that. That’s why I’m here.”

  “You were court ordered to go through anger management and do community service. You weren’t court ordered to get beaten up.”

  “My sentencing might cover what I did to those girls, but it doesn’t cover what I did to my parents.”

  When Erica’s breath hitched, Taylor knew she was about to start crying. Taylor also knew that she wasn’t the type to allow herself to be comforted. Taylor shifted her gaze out to the parking lot and gave Erica space to cry or compose herself or speak, to do whatever she needed to do.

  “The girls at school were shitty to me because they think I’m poor and trashy. I wasn’t going to hurt them so I thought I’d hurt some of the things that made them feel superior to me instead. I was so mad that I wasn’t thinking, you know? That if my parents and I couldn’t afford cars like that, we also wouldn’t be able to afford fixing those cars. I just thought I wasn’t going to get caught. Even though they humiliated me, I didn’t think the school would see me as a suspect. I made straight A’s. I kept to myself. When people provoked me, I tried not to respond to them. I didn’t realize there would be a security camera.”

  Taylor was all too familiar with what it was like to be caught on a camera you didn’t know was watching you. Letting the conversation linger on that part wasn’t going to help. She tried to make s point of looking forward, not backward.

  “What’s it like at home right now?”

  “My parents are stressed. Like, really stressed. My mom thought she was going to get fired at first because I slashed the tires of one of her big boss’s daughters. They both got second jobs to pay the reparations and work so much they barely see me or each other. When they’re both at home at the same time, all they do is fight. It’s like they blame each other for what happened instead of blaming me. I want to get a job to help with the payments but I don’t have time because of all the community service I have to do and these classes. They want me to finish my requirements as fast as I can so that we can petition to end my probation early. That way, maybe my record can be expunged by the time I need to apply for college and for scholarships.”

  “That must be difficult.”

  “Yeah,” Erica said, wiping her eyes with her sweat rag. “I just wish there was something I could do to make things easier.”

  “If you can’t help with the money part, is there something you can do instead?”

  “I’ve been cooking and cleaning so they can rest when they get home, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s not like I can bring in a counselor to make things better between them, you know?”

  “How about this? How about we both brainstorm about something nice you could do and put our heads together at the next class. I’m happy to help you if I can.” Taylor squeezed Erica’s shoulder.

  “Thanks,” Erica said. “That’s really nice of you.”

  “There’s just one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “At the next bout, you fight back.”

  Erica wasn’t the only one fighting guilt. While Taylor was genuinely happy to help Erica, she was also trying to add to the list of good things she could do in order to make up for past wrongs. Eventually, the scales would tip and her karma would improve. She just wasn’t sure how she’d know when that day had come.

  6

  Eva

  Eva was equal parts excited, relieved, and panicked when she got a text from Taylor asking to get together again. She’d wanted to suggest it herself, but she felt like she couldn’t. Her mom had taught her basic dating rules when she was growing up: if you’re interested, still let the guy make the first move. Taylor wasn’t a guy and the suggestion to get drinks was probably completely platonic, but Eva was definitely interested.

  When her pulse quickened at the sight of Taylor’s name on her phone, there was no reason to keep trying to deny it.

  Of course, she�
��d questioned her sexuality before. Eva had gone to a girl’s school, for Heaven’s sake! For four years of her life, she’d been surrounded by beautiful women of all types. Girls from the Equestrian team with defined thighs and perfect posture, girls that managed to make bedhead and sweatpants look good in her 8:00 AM classes, girls like Taylor that seemed a touch mysterious. Modest, she’d always averted her eyes from the others in the locker rooms just as she hoped they didn’t look at her while she hurried to towel dry or dress.

  It was when they were finishing the process of getting ready that Eva found it hard not to stare. It was when they’d comb detangling spray through wet hair, coat their limbs with lotion, or apply their makeup that she’d watch them. If someone noticed, she’d ask them which shade of MAC eye shadow they were swiping against their lids or if they could show her the technique they used for flipping out their hair at the very bottom without curling everything else.

  Once or twice, she’d caught herself wishing she could stand behind one of the women, gently sweep their hair back to the nape of their neck with her hand, and dab perfume just behind their ear. It was an act that seemed both innocent and intimate. That was as wild as she allowed her fantasies to get.

  Her fantasies about men mainly included disheveled writers and rockers letting their guards down so that she could become their muse.

  The most embarrassing thing? She was twenty-five and had never been kissed unless a few chaste pecks on the cheek or forehead back in high school counted for anything. They were from her guy friends that dutifully took her for a twirl around the dance floor at Homecoming and Prom. Despite being on the planning committee for all of those dances, she’d never had a date for any of them. Instead, she was always the third wheel, riding in a limo with her friends and their dates. People at school assumed she was either a prude or stuck up. She knew deep down she was neither of those things, but she didn’t know how to prove it without doing something foolish she’d regret once it was done.

  Her father had always told her she just hadn’t met anyone that was worthy of her affection yet, that she’d recognize them when it was time for that day to come. Once on a father/daughter date, she’d asked him what he envisioned for her. After chewing thoughtfully and washing down his steak with a sip of Cabernet, he’d said he wanted someone that could make Eva laugh, that challenged her to see the world with new eyes, and that shared her love of books.

  Eva knew that day had come the day that she met Taylor in the coffee shop. She just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Taylor hadn’t mentioned having a significant other. She wore plenty of rings, but none were on the finger where an engagement ring should be. Was she straight? Was she gay? Was she even single?

  * * *

  “What’s your poison?” The bartender asked after Taylor managed to plow her way through the crowd milling around the bar, pulling Eva by her hand through the throng of men so they wouldn’t be separated. If Eva had been there by herself, it would have been hopeless to try to get a drink. She was assertive at work but tended to be more of a beta personality when she was on her own time. The brides sucked up all of her more aggressive energy.

  “Whatever seasonal beer on tap you like best and whatever she would like,” Taylor said, nodding to Eva.

  “The milk stout for me, please.”

  The bartender turned to the taps and made two perfect pours. Eva went to dig for her wallet in her purse but Taylor stopped her by putting a hand on her arm. “No need—I’ve got this.”

  Taylor handed her credit card to the bartender to start a tab.

  They made their way together to two armchairs in the far corner of the craft brewery to get away from the swarms of football fans that were there to celebrate the local university team’s win. As soon as they sat across from one another, the other people might as well have disappeared. Taylor was the only person Eva could see or hear.

  “Full disclosure… I might have bought your drink to butter you up for something.” Taylor said, taking a sip of her pumpkin beer.

  “You have my attention,” Eva said, raising her carefully penciled in eyebrows and grinning into her drink.

  “Your job requires you to celebrate and support love.”

  “That’s one way to put it, I suppose. I should snag that line for my website.”

  “I was wondering if I could procure your services for a volunteer job?”

  Eva’s heart sank. If Taylor was asking for help planning a wedding— if she was going to be the bride— there was no way Eva could do it. “If I volunteered my services for weddings, I couldn’t keep my business afloat. Weddings are time intensive and expensive.” Way more expensive than the six dollar beer you’re baiting me with, she thought.

  Now she regretted getting the pint instead of the taster size. It would take longer to finish. Taylor’s request might have been presumptuous, but she wasn’t going to be rude enough to get up before her drink was empty.

  Taylor waved her hand in protest. “No! No. I’m not talking about a wedding. I would never ask you to do something like that for free.”

  “What’s the project, then?” Eva asked.

  “I need some help reminding two people that they’re in love, but I don’t know how to go about it. I know that helping people get married is a lot different than helping them stay married, but regardless, you seem like an expert on romance.”

  “I wish!” Eva blurted. If only Taylor knew how untrue that was! “I doubt I’m qualified to help with whatever it is you have brewing, but you’ve got me intrigued.”

  “I volunteer with at-risk kids and help run an anger management program at a boxing ring downtown. One of my teens is afraid her court case is ruining her parent’s marriage because of all of the financial stress it caused. I promised I’d help her do something nice for them. I’m happy to foot the bill, but every time I try to think of what Erica and I could do for them, I get stuck.”

  “I’m so sorry I snapped at you. You’re here on some kind of noble mission and I assumed the worst.” Eva was mortified. In her defense, there had been a baffling number of people that wanted free or significantly discounted prices for her services. She just shouldn’t have lumped Taylor in with them.

  “No worries,” Taylor shrugged.

  “You volunteered for years at the library before you got your job. You volunteer with troubled teens. People like you put me to shame,” Eva said, meaning it. Sure, she auctioned her event planning services off once or twice a year for a charity gala, but that was the extent of her philanthropy. Eva had a shrewd eye for numbers and a strong desire for success. She had plans to give back, but was waiting to do so until she was more established and thus had more to give.

  Selfishly, she also wanted a beautiful house with built-in floor to ceiling bookshelves and to visit the world’s most beautiful libraries—places like the Klementinum National Library in Prague and the Trinity College Library in Dublin. Those things were not going to pay for themselves. She always figured she’d treat herself a little and then attend to taking care of everyone else. She’d worked hard for so long.

  “Remember when you had the wrong idea of me going into when we met at book club?”

  “Yes,” Eva said.

  “I’m afraid you’re coming to the wrong conclusions again.”

  Eva shook her head. “I doubt it.” She pulled a notebook and rhinestone-studded pen out of her purse. “Let’s get down to business. What ideas have you come up with so far?”

  * * *

  “You know what they say about all work and no play,” Taylor said, rising to her feet after they had a rough plan worked out that she could take back to Erica. “I think it’s time for me to beat your ass in a game of darts.”

  “Is that so?” Eva asked, smiling.

  “Yeah. I’m going to grab us another round. You go snag the open dart board and warm up a little.”

  Eva followed orders, hesitating only to watch Taylor walk away. She liked the way Taylor exuded confide
nce, the casual way she held herself and moved through the world. While Eva knew that others considered her to be beautiful, she also knew that she lacked something that Taylor had in spades: swagger.

  Taylor materialized behind Eva where she stood at the toe line, throwing the last of her practice darts. It landed just a hair to the left of the bullseye. When she was a teenager, her dad had installed a dart board in their finished basement and had coached her on the perfect throw. It had been years, but she wasn’t as rusty as she assumed she’d be. The basics were simple: raise the dart to eye level, aim a little higher than you think you need to, and find a way to hyper focus so that you can drown out outside distractions. That was a little easier to do at her house than it would be in a crowded bar, but she intended to win regardless.

  “It looks like I might have my work cut out in beating you after all,” Taylor said, handing Eva her stout.

  “Game on,” she said, clinking their drinks together. “Is your pumpkin beer any good?”

  “Beats a pumpkin spice latte any day of the week. Want a taste?”

  Eva considered being brave, using the question as an excuse to lean in and steal a kiss. Yes, I want a taste , she thought. Instead, she stole her friend’s glass and took a small sip.

  “Mmm.”

  Taylor chalked their names on top of the scoreboard and pulled the darts out of the cork.

  “Let’s make this fun,” Eva said. “For every dart that doesn’t land on a target, I get to ask you a question and you get to answer.”

  “You weren’t having fun already?” Taylor smirked.

  “I was. I just thought it would spice things up.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Taylor’s darts cut through the air one at a time with near perfect precision. Only one of them was slightly off the mark.

  “Looks like you get the first question of the night,” Taylor said.

  “Since you’re having me help you play cupid, it only seems appropriate for me to ask if you’re seeing someone.”