Colton Read online

  I let my little six-year-old nieces tackle me to the ground, tickling and teasing me, while the rest of the room laughed and cheered them on. By the time I got up, I was smiling and much more relaxed. “You two got so much stronger since I left!”

  They beamed at the compliment and raced off to follow as my mother headed for the kitchen—likely plotting how to get a pre-dinner cookie from Nana.

  “Son,” my father was the last one to join the party, and clapped me on the back, as he entered the room from his adjoined study. “Nice of you to join us.”

  I nodded and said hello to Tina, Lyle, and Lacey, and got caught up to speed on all the goings on over the past six months. I was usually able to keep up pretty well over email and video chat, but there were always stories to hear when I got back into town.

  Eventually, we all meandered to the dining room and the conversation continued over dinner. As everyone was talking and laughing, I stopped to take it all in, my eyes scanning from one couple to the next, Colonel Reeve’s advice was still weighing on my mind, and although I hadn’t decided what to do about it, I found myself giving the idea of marriage more thought and consideration than I had in several years.

  My parents sat at opposite ends of the table, barely acknowledging each other’s existence. On paper, they had quite the legacy marriage; Thirty years together, three healthy sons, two grandchildren. However, if the walls of their sprawling estate could talk, they would paint a very different story. For the past decade, since Lyle had moved out, they’d taken to sleeping in separate bedrooms—at opposite ends of the house. They were more like roommates than spouses. They each led their own lives and only came together for family or social functions. My father spent most of his time with other vets and his old battle buddies, than with my mother, and she spent most of her time with her own hobbies and activities that she shared with her large group of friends.

  Jeff and his wife, Tina, occupied one side of the large formal dining table, with their two daughters filling the chairs between them. Overall, they appeared to have a good thing going. They’d gone through a lot to have the twins, enduring extensive medical procedures and the sorrow of two miscarriages. Those experiences had bonded them together, and made the arrival of Sammie and Sophie all the more sweet, but as I’d watched them evolve into the parents of two high energy kids, their focus was almost always on them, instead of each other. From the outside, it seemed more like a business partnership than anything else. Each had a list of tasks they were expected to accomplish for the good of the kids—and while that was honorable—and probably the way it should be, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them kiss, or even hold hands with one another. That part of their life had apparently ended.

  Marriage wasn’t looking so good.

  Lyle and Lacey sat beside me, opposite Jeff’s family. While they weren’t married yet, they had been together for a few years after meeting at church. Lyle was an Army Chaplin, and very religious. They’d faced a lot of hardship through his back to back deployments, but he was home—likely for good—and would probably get married and start a family within the next year. They were both quiet and reserved with each other, so it was hard to say exactly what was going on between them, but they were usually smiling and holding hands together, so I figured it must be working overall.

  “Colton?” My father’s voice cut into my observations. I gave him a blank stare, and he repeated his question, “Did you talk to any of your commanding officers about the Captain slot I told you about?”

  I should have known. Less than twenty-four hours later, and he was already harping on that. “It’s on my list of things to do,” I replied, my voice flat.

  My father gave me a pointed stare. “I should hope so. Those positions don’t come around every day, Colton. This is the right time, and you need to do whatever it takes to put yourself at the front of the crowd.”

  I nodded, fisting my hands under the table. There was no point in arguing with him. In his eyes, he was the all-knowing power of all things military, and if I was serious about my career—I would follow his blueprint to the nth degree. Or else, it was all for nothing.

  Jeff cleared his throat, attracting the attention off of me. “Speaking of new adventures,” he started, and I bit back a laugh at the awkward conversation transition. “Tina and I have some news we’d like to share. That is, Colton, if you don’t mind us hogging in on your dinner?” He asked, his eyes twinkling. He was saving me from the spotlight and knew it.

  “Not at all,” I replied, giving him the floor.

  He turned to Tina, and she smiled and gave him a nod. “We just found out Tina’s pregnant!”

  My mother burst into tears and jumped up from her seat to race around and embrace them both. Sophie and Sammie, had obviously been in the know for a little while, and immediately started chattering about their new sibling—whom they were convinced was going to be a boy—and the rest of the table joined in the celebration. Through the chaos, Jeff caught my eye and I mouthed “Thank you.”

  After dinner, when everyone was stuffed and sleepy, I caught up with Jeff as he was rounding the front of his car after loading the twins into their car seats. “Hey, man, congratulations!” I said, wrapping him in a brotherly bear hug. “I hope you didn’t do the announcement just to save me from Dad.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Naw. We had already talked about it. We wanted to do it when everyone was together.”

  “Well, I appreciate it.”

  “Trust me, I get it,” Jeff replied. He had followed a different path, choosing not to go into the military at all, which had been the focus of our father’s criticism and negative attention for years. I knew he understood how I was feeling. “Sometimes, I feel like you get it even more from Dad because I didn’t go that route, you know? Like, you get double the expectations or something,” Jeff continued.

  I shook my head. “Naw, man. Don’t worry about it. It’s what I want too.”

  Jeff held my gaze, and for a moment, looked like he was going to add something, but then, just as quickly, he changed his mind and clapped my shoulder. “Good to have you home, man. Let’s catch a game or something one of these days.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good. And again, congrats. Can’t wait to meet the little squirt.”

  Jeff laughed and we got into our separate vehicles. I sat behind the wheel for a moment, looking up at my parent’s grand house. As I watched, a light clicked on in my father’s study, and moments later, another light lit up the windows that belonged to the suite that had been remodeled for my mother years before.

  It’s what I want too. My words to Jeff echoed back to me. I turned them over, feeling for the line between what I wanted, and what was simply an expectation of me. Both motives were so tangled together that it was impossible to separate them. I shook my head and turned over the engine, setting aside the complex thoughts for another time, as I began to back down the driveway.

  Chapter Four: Karena

  By the time Friday rolled around, I was fully prepared to start a mutiny.

  “This isn’t a size six! If it were, it would fit like a glove. I’m a perfect sample size.” Mrs. Stevens—a regular client who made the top five in the mega bitch dis-honor roll that I kept track of in my head—snapped. She slammed the dressing room door open so fast it whipped me in the face as I stepped forward, about to begin an attempt at sweet talking her into trying one size up in the very pricey three-piece pantsuit she had her heart set on.

  My eyes burned and watered as the pain seared my face. Mrs. Stevens didn’t notice—or simply didn’t care—that she’d struck me with the door, and barreled out into the aisle between the other fitting rooms. “Are you even listening to me?” She fisted her hands on her hips and stared at me.

  Every fiber in my body rallied to give her the cussing out of her exorbitant, wasteful, self-centered life, but at the last second, my lips quirked up into a smile. I blinked away the stinging tears and dropped my hand from massaging
the pain from my smashed nose. I had to play nice. Mrs. Stevens ranked at the top of my bitchy clients list, but she also topped my commission list. I needed her to buy the suit, and half a dozen other items, in order to bolster my paycheck for the month. And, if I wanted her to buy the suit—I had some major ass kissing to do.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Stevens. This line does tend to run a little small,” I started—an itch in my throat begging me to remind her that had been the reason I’d suggested starting with the next size up in the first place. “I can bring the next size up, and then, we’ll make sure the alterations are done so it fits just right. Even better than off the rack!”

  Mrs. Stevens stared at me as though I’d just smacked her across the face. My gut twisted, unsure what part had riled her. “You can’t be serious. I’m a size six! Are you even listening to me?” She glanced around the vacant fitting room. “Where’s Mary? Is she here? I need to speak with her.”

  I tamped down my rage even tighter inside myself. It was beginning to feel like putting a jack-in-the-box back to sleep. It was only a matter of time before all that was going to come flying out. I just had to make sure it didn’t happen while I was on the clock.

  I cleared my throat, adjusting my voice back to soothing. “Mary has the day off, but please, Mrs. Stevens, trust me. You’re going to look amazing. I promise. Go ahead and try on the next outfit I’ve pulled, and then we’ll go from there,” I said, using every last ounce of self-preservation to keep my tone calm and even.

  After a few more snarky replies, she finally agreed, and went back into the fitting room to try on the next outfit, while I went to grab a few more options.

  It took three more hours, but eventually, I got her out of the store with three large bags of purchases, and a hint of a smile on her face. When the doors closed behind her, I released the strangled sigh I’d been holding in all afternoon, and collapsed against the counter where Gina, a co-worker, had just rung her up. “Good God. That was like going to war,” I mumbled against the smooth, marble topped, cashier’s counter.

  Gina giggled. “Nice work, Karena. Another…” she paused to pull up the figure on her computer, “…three hundred and fifty dollars for your commission check.”

  “A battle hard fought. I assure you.” I pushed off the counter and waved at Gina, before dragging myself back to the fitting area to clean up what was left of the war zone.

  “You ready to get the hell outta here?” Becca asked, surprising me when I rounded the corner back to the personal shopper department. She was sitting at the small, white lacquered desk where we kept our appointment books and customer files in a sleek, white and silver computer. I marveled, looking at the spotless area, that I’d left half an hour before looking more like the aftermath of some kind of natural disaster, instead of a fitting room.

  “You’re a saint, Becca Sherman,” I said, my voice a breathy whisper.

  She flashed a smile at me and bounced up from her seat. The computer chimed it’s little powering down tone, and a split second later, the screen went black. “I know.”

  Becca looped her arm with mine. “Come on, let’s get out of here. First round’s on me.”

  I didn’t argue with her.

  We made our way to Lucky Strike and met up with the half a dozen other girls who made up our fashionista crew of Beckham’s employees—both current and previous. Whoever had arrived first, had reserved a private party room, and Becca and I exchanged a questioning look, before heading towards the room the man at the shoe rental counter had indicated. Lucky Strike was a hot spot, especially on a Friday night. Loud music, mixed by an in-house DJ, was pulsing through the speakers, filling the room with a bumping energy. Drinks were flowing, people were dancing, cheering, and letting go of all the workweek stress. My own knotted tension began to melt away, into the music, as we made our way through the crush of people.

  “Oh no…” Becca said, stopping just inside the doorway of the private room. I followed her gaze and saw that one of the two tables inside was packed full of gift bags and wrapped packages. “Who’s birthday did we forget?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea…we always get the reminders…” The group did a good job of keeping in touch, and it was hard to believe we’d forgotten someone’s birthday.

  “Bec! Karena!” Stacy, one of the original group members shouted over the music and waved her arms at us. “Get your perky little asses in here!”

  Becca took the lead, striding into the room and joining the group. Four of the girls had already started a game of bowling and were halfway through. Stacy, Gina, and Trisha were holding down the food table, where a large cheesy pizza had just arrived, steam still billowing off of the melted toppings.

  “Oh good, booze. We need some of that, for sure!” Becca said, glancing over her shoulder at me with a knowing smile. “Especially Karena. She had the pleasure of dressing Nancy Stevens this afternoon…for four hours…”

  Stacy—who had worked in the personal shopping department for several years before getting married and starting a family—cringed and handed over her full martini glass. “Here girl, you need this more than I do.”

  Becca and I both burst out laughing and I took the drink. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t know, I might be able to top it,” Trisha said. “Spent the whole day chasing the twins around. Lucy decided Eddy needed a haircut…God, three-year-olds can be a nightmare.”

  We all laughed and I offered her the drink. The waitress appeared with a tray loaded with glasses, and by the time Becca and I took the two seats opposite the others, we all had a drink in hand.

  “So, what’s with all the presents?” I asked, gesturing with my glass to the other table. “Becca and I feel like we missed a memo.”

  “Oh.” Stacy looked over at the girls bowling. “I thought you guys had heard! Amanda got engaged last weekend! So, a few of us brought her some presents. Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.”

  Amanda had worked at Beckham’s with me and Becca for about a year. However, she worked in menswear, and we’d never been super close. If it weren’t for the Lucky Strike nights, I probably would’ve never seen her, except in passing.

  “It was a super romantic proposal.” Stacy gestured over at Amanda. “Hey! Becca and Karena haven’t heard the news. Come give them the deets.”

  Amanda came over to the table and flashed her giant diamond ring. “Isn’t it amazing?” She gushed, wiggling her fingers to set off the light in the multi-faceted jewel. “Ron and I were over in Hawaii for our one year dating anniversary. We had a dinner in the surf, like, a table actually set up in the waves on the beach. There were candles and flowers and live music.” She paused for a breath and her eyes were glazed in a way that made me think she was replaying it all like a movie in her mind. “After the four course meal, the dessert was brought out, and he’d hidden the ring inside the little cake!”

  I smiled, but couldn’t help stealing a glance at the other women across from me. They were all fawning and starry eyed like Amanda. It was a weird, out of body experience, where I had to stop and wonder if maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe I was missing some kind of romance chip that made it possible to get swept away in the grand gestures, teary eyes, and entire range of lovesick emotions.

  When the girls across from us went back to babbling about the rock on Amanda’s finger, I leaned over to Becca and whispered, “God, they’re dropping like flies. What is that, the third one this year?”

  Becca pulled her own longing gaze away from the ring. “I don’t know…maybe.”

  I looked around the room, counting in my head those who were married or engaged. “Yep. It’s official. We’re the last two. Cheers to sanity,” I teased, clinking my martini glass against the side of her glass of rose wine.

  “Shhh,” she hissed. A smile was tugging at her lips as she scolded me, but when she looked at me full on, there was a hint of something else in her big, blue eyes. Sadness.

  In an attempt to lighten whatever
mood had fallen over my best friend, I smiled, and added, “Come on, Bec. Inside the cake? That’s not a proposal, that’s a choking hazard.”

  Becca stifled a giggle before giving me a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Stop it. They’re gonna hear you.”

  I rolled my eyes and downed the rest of my martini.

  * * * *

  I was still hung up on the events of the night, when I finally made it home. Everyone had a good time, laughing, drinking, and throwing some quite spectacular, gutter balls. But all conversation had revolved around engagement news, wedding planning, and the joys of being a wife and mom. By the time Amanda started opening her engagement gifts, I’d excused myself, blaming my early escape on a sunrise boot camp style workout at the park near my apartment—which, was true—but wasn’t entirely the reason I ducked out, and as I’d left, I had a feeling everyone in the room could see right through it.

  I grabbed a bottle of wine leftover from the night before, and didn’t even bother with a glass, as I trudged to the couch. I sank down into the soft, suede cushions, and kicked free of my four-inch stiletto heels as I relaxed back, basking in the silence for a full minute, before deciding it was too quiet, and clicked on my flat screen TV to provide some background noise. I flipped through the assortment of channels for a few minutes, before landing on a home renovation show that I liked to watch. With the price of real estate in Seattle, I knew that owning my own home was a pipe dream, and that living vicariously through the construction and decorating crews on TV was as close as I was ever going to get.

  I popped the cork out of the wine bottle and tossed it to the cushion beside me. I took a swig straight from the bottle, and then set it on the coffee table and reached for my laptop that was laying there. In the hurry to get out of the store—and as far away from Mrs. Stevens leftover cloud of perfume as possible—I’d forgotten to pick up my pay stub from the store manager. The pay records were also available online, so I pulled up the statement, while the renovation show blared in the background as they broke ground for some beach side cottage.