Rapid Falls(55)

I take a breath. “Do we need to discuss it?”

“No, Cara, it’s okay. It can wait until tonight,” Rick says.

Relief floods me. I can hear the laughter in his voice. I won’t let Anna ruin this beautiful moment.

“Sure. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

I hear a clunk in the background before Rick hangs up. He won’t be thinking too much about Anna’s disordered questions until he can get Maggie to bed. I’m safe for now. I walk back over to Brian and Sara. I feel angst leaving with each step, and I smile at the waiter as he comes forward to place the cool, sweating highball in my hand.

“Sorry about that. Family emergency,” I say.

“Is everything okay?” Sara looks relieved at my return.

“Yes, thank you.” My eyes are on Brian, who is looking at me intently. “My sister was hurt,” I say, trying to keep his attention without seeming like I’m doing so.

“Serious?” he says.

“A fender bender. She’ll be fine.” My tongue feels thick. One more drink and then I’ll go home. It’s nice to be out in the sunshine, talking to a handsome man. But I have obligations. Rick needs my help. I am never free of people in my life who need my help.

“We were just talking about James. What a disaster.” Brian laughs. There’s a mean edge to his voice, which catches me.

“I enjoyed working with James. He did his best.” The thought of Jesse is still with me, stirring something deep. I am suddenly angry on James’s behalf. He had been a good employee. Brian is actually talking about my mistake.

“Really? He seemed pretty . . . slow.” Brian laughs again cruelly. His laugh sounds like Sandy’s the day she told us Dustin was dead, and my head spins. Brian sees the scowl on my face, and his mocking expression falters. He turns to Sara for corroboration, but she’s staring at her phone.

“My husband is pulling up to get me. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says brightly, oblivious to the conversation around her. I smile as she gathers her bag and waves awkwardly.

“Take care,” I say, a bit too slowly.

Brian smiles goodbye and waits until she’s out of earshot. “I hear James really fucked up.”

“James left for a job with the United Nations at the Hague. It was an appointment, not an open call,” I lie, smugly noting the flicker of envy in Brian’s eyes.

“Really? He . . . I didn’t realize.”

“That’s politics. Everyone you know can become an ally. Or an enemy.”

His eyes narrow and his expression is no longer flirtatious.

“Well, I guess I learned a lesson today.” His sarcasm is obnoxious. I am grateful he is acting like a jerk. I shouldn’t be flirting with anyone. I take another deep drink.

“You can never have too many friends, Jesse,” I say, raising my glass as if to toast. My words cause a slight dissonance, but I can’t place the reason.

“It’s Brian.” His tone is cold.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I, um, met a lot of people last week.” I realize suddenly that the crowd is thinning. I should leave too.

“Yeah, me too.” He nods at another senior manager, who I know is his boss. “Did you meet him?”

“Melvin? I’ve known him for years,” I say. “He owes me a couple favors, actually.” I am hearing words before I realize I am saying them. The sun is pounding on my head, making my scalp sweat. I need to get out of here, I think. I can’t remember where I set down my purse. I take another drink as I look around for it.

“Really?” He smiles, warm again. “How’s your drink?” he says quickly. I am about to reply that it’s fine when the waiter appears by my side.

“Can I get eight Sambuca shots?” Brian says.

I quickly count the remaining staff on the patio. “None for me.”

“I’ll do yours,” he says with a grin. Brian takes a step toward the larger group and I follow. Maybe my bag is over there. We join the rest of the staff. They nod and smile at me, including me in their circle of small talk. I am filled with euphoria as I accept their kindness and the shot glass that Brian is holding out to me. I’ll have one more drink. I need to forget about Anna and Jesse and Rick and Maggie. We down the shots. Moments later, another is pressed into my hands. The syrupy burn of Sambuca is still in my mouth, so I drink the second shot to get rid of the taste of the first. It’s something milky and sweet.

I need a glass of water, I think as I finish my gin and tonic. I need to find my bag. I need to pee. I carefully walk to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I look happy. Not the downcast, tired-looking woman I’ve been seeing lately. I look like the girl Jesse asked to the prom. The one who worked her way up the political ladder with no connections. The woman whom other women want to be. I put on lipstick confidently, wiping away a smear at the corner of my mouth. It’s nice to be out again. I rejoin the group and hear people saying goodbye because it’s a Wednesday, they have children, too many shots, all the excuses. Only a handful of people remain.

“Still here?” I say to Brian. My tongue feels too big for my mouth.

“I’m always the last one at the party,” he says, running his fingers through his hair in a rueful, practiced way. It looks scripted yet somehow sexy at the same time. “Unless I have something else to do, of course,” he continues with a laugh and a meaningful look in my direction. I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I ignore it. Another shot appears in front of me.