The Secret He Keeps Page 17

  “He’s your partner and he’s Scott’s best friend.” Collette repeated them verbatim.

  “Exactly.” She sat down, sandwich and fries in position for eating.

  “Okay, but do you like him? That’s what’s important. Discounting the partner thing, you could still work together if it bombed. Well, maybe.” She had to think about that one. “And, I’m almost certain Scott wouldn’t mind. He’d pick his friend to be with you over a complete stranger.”

  Collette stole some fries from the bottom of the bag, licking the salt off her fingers.

  “No, thank you. All I can see when I look at Dane is him playing softball with Scott. Or kissing girls in my living room while Scott and I watched television. Or, there was that time that Dane threw me under the bus while we were in residency. No, this is not the guy I could ever see myself with. I want problem-free in my life. And Dane Stone would definitely not be that. Now, we’ll go find something to wear after we eat.”

  “Time has passed, Rach. And neither one of you are the people you used to be.” She took a sip of her Coke. The condensation dripped on her lap. “What exactly would we be proving, again? Because I don’t live here. This is a sure thing that it’s not going to go past one date, Rach.”

  Rachel was already on her way to her bedroom, ready to cruise the rod of her dresses. She couldn’t wait to finish her sandwich, or finish convincing her friend why this experiment was a must. She needed something fetching for her to wear, but not too fetching. That word needed to get back into circulation. It was a good word.

  “Rach, did you hear me?” Collette leaned against the trim, putting more Big Mac in her mouth. She was almost finished. “What are we proving?”

  She took a dress off the rod and held it up to Collette, imagining in her head how it’d look. “We are proving that if he tries anything with you, he’s not interested in me. It means that he’s just a typical guy who flirts with everyone he sees. And I can dispose of the notion that it’s uncomfortable to be around him. Clearly I have paranoia and I can get rid of it once and for all.”

  “Oh gee, thanks. So if he flirts, it won’t be because of my awesomeness,” she teased, fanning her face. “And you’re thinking on our first date, that he might try something?” She smiled when she proposed the notion.

  Rachel pulled out another one, knocking the dust from the shoulder area. “Dane is a fast operator. The stories that would circulate in the old days of the hospital put my ears to shame. Once, he came in on a Saturday morning shift, completely hungover and barely able to see. I asked what her name was. Do you know what he told me?” She waited for Collette to ask.

  “What?”

  “He told me he forgot to ask.” She pulled down a red one.

  “Rachel, he was just messing with you.” She licked the salt from her fingers, again. She had put down the sandwich box and finished up the fries.

  Rachel suddenly wasn’t as hungry as she thought. Maybe this was stupid. Who would be attracted to someone who slept with just anyone? If she was going to attempt to find someone else to spend her life with, they needed to have more integrity. So what if he didn’t seem like that recently. So what if he didn’t even resemble what he used to be. Dane was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She shook off the flip-flop of her mind of whether to do this or not. She was exhausted from the pros and cons list in her head.

  The dress had to be perfect. In this case study, it did matter what the dummy wore. No offense to her best friend, the sex goddess with Guinevere long hair and long, thin legs to match. Rachel held up a red dress.

  “No, he wasn’t just messing with me. He’s a stud muffin. From the word go.”

  “Rachel, trust me. You’re fun to play with. You’re so straitlaced.”

  Rachel stopped to glare at her friend. “Straitlaced? You mean I respect myself?”

  “Okay, sure.” Collette pulled her shirt over her head and tried on a few dresses to see which one suited Rachel the best.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  No Take-Backs

  Dane was not stupid. He knew what Rachel was up to. He grew up with a sister and knew all the tricks. Michelle was ruthless when it came to guys. He probably learned mostly what he knew by watching her play her games with guys. He felt sorry for some of them. Others, he knew had it coming.

  Rachel was offering her friend to him to see whether he would take the bait. To make sure he wasn’t zeroing in on her. Maybe it was a test. If he acted interested in the unremembered girl’s name, then Rachel could be taken off the hot seat of avoiding him in social arenas. She turned him down to go to the holiday mixer that was coming up. Probably thought there would be dancing and Otis Redding would show up in the play shuffle. Oh, how good she felt that night.

  So Dane dug in his closet for the blue blazer. His lucky blue blazer. Girls used to go crazy over him dressed in a tie and jacket. Never one for wearing ties, he was pulling out all the stops tonight. He stood in front of the mirror, pulling the silk tie through the knot. A smack on the cheeks of aftershave, a belt, his shoes, and he was ready to go. Rachel, eat your heart out.

  He walked up the sidewalk to her house. His heart was beating rather rapidly. All thoughts of being on the spot, of awkward quiet breaks in conversation with a total stranger was trumped by what Rachel would look like when she opened the door. Would she do the once-over, or would she look at the tie and coat, putting her nose slightly in the air to figure out where the smell was coming from? All the while, pouting her lip because it was her friend going and not her? He hoped to get that latter response.

  ***

  “Okay, enough with the lip gloss. It’s fine. You look like you got a collagen injection at lunch as it is. Drawing more attention is a classic mistake.”

  As Collette pinched her cheeks and rubbed the center dimple over her lips to wipe away gloss, Rachel stared at her with envy. Was it the extra three inches Collette had over her, or that her hair looked salon touched up? Nothing on this girl could be held against her. Rachel’s red dress with the tiny black belt even looked good. She told her to wear that one, secretly hoping the belt made her look as ugly as Rachel felt wearing it that one time to that medical convention in Vegas.

  But no. It looked freaking awesome on her. The way the bottom of the dress flared. Surely Rachel didn’t remember looking that profound in it. Oh, well. This was her rodeo. She had set out to throw the deer to the bear and she was doing it. The plan was coming together as rehearsed in her brain. She just didn’t take into account her deer would look so ravishing. She’d settle on a little bit more matted hair and less doe eyes.

  “How much mascara did you use?” Rachel leaned against the mirror, wearing her gray sweats and crossed arms.

  “Oh, gosh. Does it look like too much? I used the regular amount.”

  The doorbell rang and Gus shot out of the room to see who it was. Collette took a deep breath and fanned her face. “He’s here.”

  Rachel pulled her hair out of the ponytail holder and shook it out, trying to dispel the ugly step-sister look. Why did she put on sweatpants? They were instant mood killer to anyone who saw them. It didn’t matter whether it was Jennifer Aniston wearing them. It screamed “Vagina Out of Order, Boobs Secured by Sports Bra.” Why again was it that she put Collette in the “Body for Hire” red dress and not her?

  “Dane!” Rachel tried to reel back in her popping eyes. She called a time-out for her extra sensory nerves to get situated, and talked in broken robotic language. “Your outfit. It is nice.” She wanted to use fetching, but figured she better not overuse it.

  He smiled a smile that could bend steel. Take a rocket to the moon. Make her unaware she was fanning herself.

  “Come in. Collette is finishing up.”

  He walked by her holding the door open. She took an extra-long whiff, hoping he smelled like skunk. Something to make her feel bad for her friend for having to go out with him that night. Smelling like roadkill and raising his leg through dinner to let out farts would just
about do it. Unfortunately, he smelled like a fold-out flap in Cosmopolitan. She wore out her share of them, burying them under her pillow and taking hits off them at night, imagining Scott was sharing the bed with her.

  “You think this looks all right, then? Not too dressy? I wasn’t sure where we were going.” He put out his arms, displaying his outfit.

  She stared a little too long at the crotch area. WTH?

  “No, I think you’re fine.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know the last time I saw you in a tie. It makes you look like a real doctor. Not one played on TV.” She laughed.

  He chuckled and then stopped abruptly, seeing something Rachel didn’t. She turned her head. It was Collette. The whore. Wearing her scarlet red, her shiny hair, and her cheerleader smile. All the things Rachel told her looked absolutely demure just minutes ago. But that was before she saw Dane and instantly regretted this silly plan. She was getting choked by the fumes that were blowing up in her face. Pretty, damn people standing in the middle of her house, polluting the atmosphere.

  “Collette, this is Dane Stone.” She displayed him with her hand, inside thinking, You’re welcome.

  “Dane, this is Collette Fitzgerald.” She displayed her, thinking, Lay one hand on her and die.

  He shook her hand and she melted, too. Rachel could see the gloss on her lips liquefy. “I hope you’re ready for a good time.”

  “I’m always ready for a good time.” He glanced at Rachel when he said it.

  Oh, pa-lease, get out with your perfect bodies and perfect smiles. Rachel was itching to roll her eyes. Instead, she walked them to the door and waved to the happy couple. Gift-wrapped by hers truly. Dane turned around and did a thumbs-up behind Collette’s back. Rachel smeared a fake smile on her face and shut the door hard.

  For the next three hours, it was a fight for survival. Rachel caved and drank a beer. Well, two. Collette put them in the cart at the store yesterday, and Rachel didn’t want to seem like an AA member and take them out. They certainly came in handy now. She was about to unscrew the third one when she picked up her phone instead. She wanted her own guy. She needed one of her own. To hell with lonely dinners with your dog and watching everyone else moving on.

  If Scott was right there in front of her, she’d imagine he would tell her it was all right to move on. She made sure to cry one more time for self-indulgent reasons and the passing of the feeling he would ever come back to her. It was time to move on. Maybe she’d call John. If he’d pick up the phone. No, she’d send a text. That would work better.

  She pressed out a few words on her phone. Which ones would be the right ones? The ones he’d read and pick up the phone and immediately call her, pledging he hadn’t slept since he left her. Yeah, right. He was probably on a date, himself. Rachel, who? he would ask when he saw her text. Hmmm… She drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa. King of Queens played on the television.

  I’ve been thinking and if you still know who this is…

  Her phone rang while she was typing. She screamed and the phone dropped from her hand. She picked it up and saw it was her mother.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “Rachel, did Collette make it there safe?”

  Collette was the one friend Rachel had that her mother approved of, growing up. She still kept tabs on her back home. Always reminding Rachel that at least she had Collette around, even if her daughter refused to move back home.

  “Yes, she’s here. She looks good. You didn’t tell me she dyed her hair. It’s changed her whole look.”

  “Yeah, she’s a pretty girl. Come home and we’ll do something with yours. Make it have those highlights again. They were so pretty in your hair. It made you look like you did in high school. You remember that? Tommy Holstead, your first boyfriend. Boy, he turned out to be a jerk.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Her mother always brought up Tommy. Like he was a symbol for Rachel to always listen to her mother instead of acting on her own judgment. Her mother told her she could tell he was a womanizer by the way his eyes set too close together and the braided belt he wore with his jeans. Seriously, a braided belt?

  “So, I was thinking, Rachel. Since you refuse to come home for Christmas, you have to come for New Year’s. I’m thinking about having everyone over then, instead of Christmas Day.”

  The very reason Rachel wasn’t going at Christmas. She couldn’t take being paraded around as the widow who lived in Connecticut. The neighbors coming over in the guise of bringing gifts, just so they could tell Rachel about their nephews who bought a new Honda and worked as a manager at the new department store in the mall. Phyllis Carpenter would be in an old age home, still trying to marry off that boy.

  “Mom, have the people over for Christmas, and I promise to come for New Year’s. The office is closed until the second of January. But no guests. Just Chris. Is he still with Marim?”

  Her brother Chris was a good guy who never seemed to have any luck with girls. Each one found a reason by month three to end it and break his heart. Perhaps he should buy a braided belt and be done with Mr. Niceguy.

  “Marim? Lord, no. He’s dating some girl from Florida. He met her on that Harmony site.”

  “Good for him. I hope it works out this time. Maybe you should tell him not to try so hard, Mom.” Get a little more involved in his business and less in hers.

  “Now, Rachel, Karen Peterson has a grandson visiting from New York. I’ve seen him. He’s got a nice bone structure. Beautiful brown eyes and thick, black hair. I’m not even sure it’s going to recede. I’ve seen pictures of his father. Now, I’ve asked them over for dinner when you come home.”

  “Mom! No guests. Just Chris. I mean it.”

  The line was quiet. Her mother was pouting, but it was the only way Rachel would agree.

  “Fine.”

  Rachel got off the phone and stared at the message she typed John. If you still know who this is, please give me a call. I’d love to talk to you.

  Her finger hovered over the Send button. Without another thought, she hit the End button and threw her phone on the sofa. She was such a chicken.

  Or was it that it was the wrong number she wanted to text?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ruthie

  Rachel lay on her bed, looking through some photo albums her mother had made for her when she moved to Connecticut. “Always Know Your Roots” was what she wrote on the opening page. There were pictures of her as a little girl; pictures of her mom when she was small; Chris, her brother, always posing with his muscles, or lack of; and pictures of Ruthie, her sister.

  Rachel heard the front door open. She crept halfway down the hall, Gus beating her to the foyer. She stopped to listen to what the good-night conversation was going to be between Collette and Dane. If she heard nothing, it meant they were kissing; if she heard laughing, it meant it went well and a kiss might still happen. She hoped to hear a door slam—a sure sign it sucked and all was right in the universe.

  “I had a great time, too. Thanks for everything, Dane.” There was a pause. Rachel couldn’t tell whether it was the time it took to close the door or he had her lip-locked. She quickly recalled what that felt like and closed her eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  Collette had turned the corner of the hall and had seen Rachel loitering with her head down.

  “Crap, you scared me. Did you shut the front door? I didn’t hear it.”

  “Yes, it’s shut. Now you weren’t trying to listen, were you?” Collette took off her earrings.

  “I was only checking to see if I heard something. How did it go?” Rachel started to walk back to her bedroom. Collette followed.

  “He is soooo nice. He opened doors for me—he waited for me to order first. He even shared his dessert because I couldn’t decide between the fudge cake and the crème brulee.” She laid at the foot of Rachel’s bed, unclasping the black belt on her dress. “What are you doing?”

  Rachel gathered up her books and began to stack them. “Nothing, j
ust looking at some pictures.”

  “Let me see.” Collette took the book that was still open and scanned the pages.

  “Did he try anything? Did he kiss you good-night?” She didn’t want to seem too overanxious, but a lot was riding on his behavior that night with Collette. Was her experiment a bust? So much had gone into the planning.

  “He was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Well he knew, then.” Rachel fell back on her stacked pillow and stared at the ceiling.

  “Knew what?”

  “He knew I was testing him. Darn it. Did he kiss you or not?”

  Collette looked up from the book, a little bit annoyed. “He kissed me on the cheek. Now who is this?” She pointed to the picture of her mother when she was in her twenties.

  Rachel took a quick look at the picture. “It’s Mom. What did you talk about?”

  Collette looked closer at the picture. “Man, she’s young in this. Ummm, we talked about my work, his work. Nothing major. It was like I was passing time with a nice guy. I never thought it would go any further than what it did.”

  Rachel crinkled her nose. “Hmmm.”

  “Hey, who is this?” She pointed to a girl, three inches taller than Rachel when she was six years old. She had stringy brown hair and wore glasses. She was hugging tight to Rachel’s neck.

  “That’s Ruthie, my sister.”

  “Wow, you look nothing alike.” She examined it closer. “Hey, your mother called to have me run an ad for her last week.” She patted her cheek with her finger. “Yeah, it was a happy birthday ad. You’ve seen them—they’re the little three-inch ones in the back that say Happy Anniversary, or in her case it said, ‘Happy Birthday, Ruthie.’ I keep forgetting you had a sister.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I took out my books. It’s Ruthie’s birthday tomorrow. Mom won’t bring it up to me. I guess she feels like I’m too fragile or something.” Rachel wouldn’t stop staring at the ceiling. She laid her arm across her forehead.