December Rain (38 page)

Antonio kisses her temple as Rianne reaches to also hold her hand.

“How would I know that? You never said anything.” Tristan starts to cry. “We’re supposed to be your closest friends and you never say anything.”

“I knew you’d judge me, just like you did about Quinn. I’ve found someone I love and I want to start all over.”

Tristan nods and pulls her tears back with a smile. “I’m sorry. I want you to be happy. I do. And I liked Quinn a lot. What’s not to like, I mean...”

“He’s here,” Hoi says.

Monica turns, feeling like she hasn’t seen his face for days, only to feel sick. Jack drags himself over to the booth, feeling the guillotine. Ri’s eyes remain down at her glass of water, while Monica tries to look at everyone else.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says. No one addresses him as he slides in the booth across from Monica and next to Rianne. He nudges her in the shoulder and reaches for a menu. Everyone stares at him waiting for more than he’s giving. He can feel their judging stares.

“You guys, already do the forgiving stuff?” He motions towards Tristan. “All the crying crap too?”

“We’re good,” Rianne says motioning among the others, excluding him.

“So I’m the last one?” He sits and looks at Monica waiting.

“Last one what?” Monica asks.

“To get my apology.”

Rianne and Tristan both shoot Monica a look that says, “No way.”

“Excuse me?” Monica’s nostrils flare again. “Why the fuck would I apologize to you?”

“Easy there sport shoes, no need to get hostile. We all fuck up... and have to grovel for forgiveness once in a while, no matter how hard it is.”

Rianne raises an eyebrow at his disguised apology as he tries to get her attention. Tristan, completely annoyed, gets Hoi to flag the waitress to get things moving.

“Curious what my spirit mug will be today,” Antonio says.

“I’m sorry, your spirit mug?” Monica says.

Tristan laughs. “All the mugs up on the shelves.”

Monica takes a first real look around the cafe and notices there are a couple hundred completely different kitschy mugs with various graphics or shapes stacked along shelves behind the counter. They range from travel souvenirs of every state in the nation, to humorous toilet shapes or Sponge Bob. The older Asian waitress comes with a tray and selects who gets what. Tristan gets one with a pink bird perched on the handle, Hoi gets an 80’s Superman, Rianne gets one with nuns all over it, and Monica wraps her fingers around the large old owl mug complete with tree trunk-style handle and sleepy eyes.
Perfect.

The woman walks back to the counter and returns with a badly airbrushed Myrtle Beach mug with a three dimensional man in a Speedo posing on the sand and a black Santa Clause with a huge beard. Antonio begs for the beach mug, but she puts it in front of Jack. The laughter at the table breaks the tension as everyone proceeds to order. Monica keeps a guarded eye on Jack, waiting for some sort of sign that he was the assailant from last night. The more he acts like his usual playful self the less she thinks it was him.

He would have given me a weird look or something by now, right. If it wasn’t him... then am I relieved it was a stranger who attacked me? That’s fucked up. It would make things easier though.

They finish up their orders just when Quinn finally walks in. Monica watches for Jack’s reaction for signs of guilt, but he barely acknowledges his presence, still focused on Ri.

“Hey everyone. Sorry I’m late,” Quinn says. Antonio starts to move so he can sit next to Monica, but Quinn sees their hands locked together and gestures to stop. “Please don’t get up. Stay there, I’ll sit over here with good ‘ole Jack.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.” Quinn slides in next to Jack, making sure to assert his elbow space a little, triggering soft amusement by everyone else. “Nice mug.” He points to the Speedo man and smiles, but Jack shines him on with little regard. Quinn’s eyes find Monica’s and pass on a little wink and air kiss that she immediately returns.

The waitress brings Quinn a World’s Greatest Lover mug which garners positive sounds and smiles from all but Jack. While everyone teases and jokes Monica makes brief eye contact with Jack as he gestures smelling his fingers briefly to only her.

It was him. That fucker! I’m gonna kill him.
She glances around to see if anyone else caught it, and then tries to direct conversation. “Quinn just got back from Los Angeles. He was on a float in the Rose Parade yesterday.”

“I knew it! What did I say?” Hoi nudges Tristan. “You were acting out the scene from Ferris Beuller. It was so awesome man!”

“Shut up. You didn’t,” Antonio says.

Quinn takes over the tales of his adventure as all eyes intently listen except Jack’s. Monica uses the distraction to throw a deadly look his way.

What am I gonna do? Did he follow me there? Can’t imagine he’d know the place.

She joins in the conversation here and there so Quinn doesn’t sense something off, but inside she’s panicked and planning her move.
Quinn can’t know it was Jack. Never. He’s got his secret and I’ve got mine.

The meals came quick and seven people in one booth becomes a tight squeeze, especially for Jack with Quinn deliberately limiting his elbow room. The more pissed he gets the more odd his comments in the conversation become. Monica tries repeatedly to steer to neutral subjects like work or food, but Jack keeps dropping weird hints that make it hard for her not to squirm.

“We have to get going,” Hoi says to Tristan.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be late.”

“Thank you for doing this,” Monica says. “It means so much that you made this time.” Antonio and Monica scoot out to let them leave and Monica takes the chance for a real hug.

Tristan pulls away and says, “I have something for you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a strip of ultrasound photos.

Monica gasps. “How long have you known?” She can tell by her look it’s been a while. “You mean at the bar...”

“Ginger Ale.”

“Oh my... I’m an even bigger asshole.”

“No. I had just found out officially and... anyway... you’re gonna be an Aunty in July.”

Monica hugs her again and kisses her cheek. She congratulates Hoi as well and gives him a hug. The others blow kisses and wave as they finish their meals and prepare for their own work days. Before they walk out Hoi taps Quinn on the shoulder.

“I really loved your show by the way man. Your work is amazing,” Hoi says.

“Thank you and congratulations on the baby! That’s wonderful.” Hoi beams with pride. “You should come over some time and I’ll show you some other pieces,” Quinn says.

“I’d like that. Maybe we can get a drink or something. Hit up a bar in your hood.”

“You wouldn’t be into his kind of bars,” Jack says, then motions to the waitress for more coffee as if he didn’t say anything.

Quinn knew instantly what he meant, especially as Monica’s face goes flush listening to Tristan’s pregnancy details.

“I’m sure any place you wanna go, would be great. I’ll ring ya later in the week.” Hoi taps knuckles with Quinn and pulls Tristan away.

“I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Monica says.
I know Quinn caught that. Fuck you Jack. I hate you.

“Wait. Give me a kiss,” Antonio says. “I gotta get going. My phone’s blowing up.”

His hug is warm and feels like the only one with no strings attached. He pulls Monica away from the table for privacy. “I’m so glad your man cares so much about your friendships. His push helped me out so much.”

Monica looks back at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“That sexy thing you have over there called Tristan yesterday, after he called me of course, to talk her into coming. I already had Ri on board. Ironically, she who was wronged the most was ready to forgive and forget.” He starts to whisper. “I think something’s going on with Ri by the way, I saw her acting really friendly with a guy leaving her studio the other day. I haven’t touched it yet. I wanted to see what Ass Jack over there was gonna do. Figures, he’s done nothing.”

“How did Quinn get all your numbers?”

Antonio looks surprised at her ignorance. “Honey, he and Robin talk. She gave him all of our numbers. She probably dished all about you too. Look out!” He laughs before realizing that Monica doesn’t find it funny. “Oh Monkey, Robin planned that whole “girls” weekend so he could bump into you. I thought you knew this by now.” He looks over. “I like him so much more now. He can keep a secret.”

“I don’t like secrets.”

“I know Abe, chill out. He’s so in love with you and Robin was worried. We all were, so don’t get mad at him. Listen, call me tonight and we can chat. Or... I can come to you, see his fabulous place. I heard you’re up on Telegraph.” He lets out a gasp. “Is it fabulous? I can’t wait.”

Monica’s mind swirls with all the new information. “Robin’s still not talking to me,” she says.

“Still? That’s gotta be a record for you guys, huh?”

She nods, starting to tear up.

“Oh no. None of that. She’ll come around. She’s your bestie, probably just having a hard time with you moving and doesn’t want to tell you... on top of being pissed that you were an asshole.”

“Thanks.”

“Call it as I see it. I gotta go Google. Call me tonight. Tonight. Seriously, or I’ll stalk you. Knock on every door in the hood.”

Their final hug makes her smile and she sees Quinn watching the exchange. She heads to the restroom spinning from all the information that’s sinking in, fueling deeper guilt mixed with irritation that he’s been meddling in secret.
Too many secrets.

Back at the table Antonio is counting money to square his bill and scrolling through a massive flood of emails pressuring him to shift focus.

“I hate Mondays,” he says. “Quinn, I’m so happy you joined us. Can’t wait to hang out lots more.” Quinn smiles and nods. “Ri, I love you. Have a fabulous day being a guru. And Jack?” He pauses to look the Irishman in the eye. “It may be the most difficult thing in the world to do, but you need to learn how to give a real apology.” He smooths over his slacks and dress shirt staring him down. “And that was my spirit mug.” Jack cradles it in his arms playfully, as Antonio rolls his eyes and walks away smiling.

Quinn gets up and moves to the empty side of the booth. He has a direct view of Jack now, and sees Rianne turn, deep in her own thoughts, to stare out the window. Quinn’s eyes burn through Jack.

I’m gonna kill him. The piece of shit’s been stalking her. And then forces himself on her? She forgot to mention that minor detail. She had to know it was him. That’s why she liked it. Is that what she wants now? Jack? No. She can’t be all over the map like that... that’s not her. She was too afraid to tell me though. I thought she trusted me.

“So what’s your day like?” Jack asks Quinn.

“Don’t know yet.” Quinn’s jaw clenches giving Jack the next move.

Rianne senses Monica’s return and throws her bag on her shoulder. “I have to get going. I’ve got a nine o’clock class to teach,” she says. Jack lets her out and waits near the door as she says goodbye. With Monica in her arms she says, “You should drop in on a few classes this week. You need them.”

“I know, I haven’t worked out in months.”

“I’ll help you de-stress and get all the toxins out.” She hugs her and whispers, “I need to talk to you anyway.”

While the girls chit chat through innuendos and code Quinn decides to make the move and leans towards Jack as if to shake hands and speak privately to the side. “Next time you wanna hang out in our neighborhood, give me a call.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Very. In fact, how about tomorrow at two o’clock I meet you at that bar you seem to like so much on Grant?” Jack shows a hint of fear as his eyes shift in thought. “Or if you’d rather me come to your work, I’ll drop by the bookstore tonight. Rianne told me where it is. Your there until 9:30 tonight right?”

“You been talking to my wife?”

“Two o’clock tomorrow.”

Quinn moves away and puts his hand on Monica’s back to signal he’s ready to leave. Monica assures again that she’ll come take a class and sees Ri hold up her hand to Jack as they walk away. Quinn waits with an open car door, fuming with irritation while she spies on their arguing.

Once the car’s in motion she doesn’t know what to say to him. They travel across town in silence. The sun has grabbed hold of the city and warms a swirling mist from the pavement all around.

“I only had time for a quick walk with Sadie and Max this morning, so they’ll need to go to the park.”

“We can do that.”

When they pull up at the house there’s a note on the front door labeled “Private” with a large bow that couldn’t be missed. “That’s not how you leave a private message,” Monica jokes and opens the card that reads:

I’m looking forward to hearing about your experience at the supper club. Can’t wait to have lunch this week and share stories.

It’s simply signed with a red lipstick mark from two very full lips. Monica looks at him in shock.