Even Odds (17 page)

“Well we aren't
at
DiceCon anymore!” Realizing she was yelling, Isabel tried to speak more quietly. “I just don't sleep with my coworkers.”

“You didn't seem opposed to the idea earlier.” Caleb folded his arms, closing down.

Isabel turned her head to the side, her mind tumbling over conflicting ideas. He was right; she'd wanted this. She was going to want it again. But she didn't want to be the woman who fucked all the guys in the office, or even
any
of the guys in the office. She'd worked hard to be untouchable.

Caleb pressed on. “You planning to hide your sex life forever or never have one again?”

Isabel felt an upsurge of emotion and turned away. “I think you should go. I'll see you on Monday.” She even managed to keep her voice steady, although whether she was about to scream or cry, she couldn't tell.

The silence behind her was palpable. He was still standing there; she could hear him breathing. “Isabel,” he started at last, but she shook her head.

“No. Just go.”

“Isabel, please, would you just listen?” He rested a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, her emotions bubbling out as anger. “Listen to what? That you want to keep fucking me? That you think my fears are completely groundless? I don't need to hear that, Caleb.”

“I don't understand why you're afraid to be seen with me.” Caleb's expression looked hurt, his lips set in a thin line.

“To be seen with you?” Isabel boggled at his phrasing. “What, like your girlfriend? I'm not your girlfriend.”

Caleb's eyebrows went up. “Who said anything about a girlfriend?”

“So now you're the one who's afraid to be seen with me?” Isabel felt a surge of recklessness. “I thought that's what you meant, but if you didn't mean it, then fine. You couldn't handle me anyway.”

“Are you challenging me?” Caleb stepped in closer, crowding her in the small cubicle. “You, who won't even date someone because your coworkers might find out you're a human being?”

“And what if I did?” Isabel felt her head spinning, but what the hell? Might as well go for broke. “What if I went out with you, told HR, the whole deal. You want to meet my parents? Come to Saturday dinner tonight and answer their questions about your intentions toward me?”

Caleb's face went white, and Isabel felt a perverse thrill of satisfaction. “That's what I thought.” Wanting to get out, she started shoving her belongings into her bag. “Have a good weekend,” she said over her shoulder as she pushed past him and left.

The pretty blond girl
had been making eyes at Caleb all night. Everything about her screamed “high maintenance,” from her perfect hairdo to the makeup she kept checking in her pocket mirror, and this was the type of girl he used to go for. If he was in the mood for a one-night stand, he could probably slide over there, talk about being an artist, and have her hands on him before they'd even finished drinks.

Except he wasn't in the mood for a one-night stand, and couldn't imagine being with anyone except Isabel, even if her comments about meeting her parents and getting into a real relationship brought all his anxieties to the forefront. He didn't want to get hurt again. So now, instead of putting the moves on the blonde, he was staring down into his drink and dragging the red stirrer around in slow circles, clinking the ice against the sides of the glass. If he wanted to sit alone and get drunk, he could do that at home, and it would cost a lot less than the eight dollars he'd paid for this drink. Not to mention he would be able to hear something other than the bass-thumping house music blaring over the sound system.

“What do you think of this place?” Dan asked loudly enough to be heard over the music. When Caleb had emailed Phil for nighttime hot spot recommendations the night before, Phil had put him in touch with Dan, which was how Caleb ended up at this upscale club with a new coworker instead of home alone or at some random seedy bar.

“It's nice,” Caleb shouted back. He didn't want to insult Dan, and it was true that the venue was enticing, sporting an urban-industrialist vibe and a young, well-dressed clientele. Well, except for Dan, who seemed perfectly at home despite his jeans and T-shirt, drinking a beer and making eyes at a young woman with short black hair and deep brown skin. Before Caleb could say anything else, Dan was sliding over to another barstool to strike up a conversation with the woman, leaving him alone.

Maybe coming out tonight had been a bad idea. His heart just wasn't in it.

“Hi.” A louder-than-average voice sounded in his other ear, making him jump. The blonde had left her seat and moved right next to him. “I saw you looking over there. Do you want to buy me a drink?”

She was forward, which was refreshing. While he didn't want to go home with her, there was probably no harm in buying her a drink. “Sure.” He waved the bartender over, opened his mouth, and realized he didn't know what she wanted. “What are you drinking?”

“Raspberry margarita.” She said it to the bartender, not to him. Caleb resisted the urge to roll his eyes—even her drink was super feminine and over the top. When the bartender started mixing, she leaned even closer to Caleb to be heard better over the music. “I'm Amber.”

“Caleb.” He nodded to her, since it felt awkward to shake her hand in this situation. “So, Amber, how's your night going?”

“Better now.” Her smile was all lip gloss and perfect teeth. “I was hoping to meet somebody cute.”

Glancing past her, Caleb didn't see anyone like a girlfriend near where she'd been sitting. “You here alone?”

“Yeah.” She examined her fingernails, which were long and pink. Caleb found himself inexplicably thinking of Isabel's short, neatly trimmed fingernails, which was an odd thing to be thinking of when a very lovely, very forward girl was making every move possible on him. “I haven't seen you in here before.”

“No, I just moved down from Massachusetts.” Caleb rubbed his beard. “It's hot down here.” Oh god, did he really just comment on the weather?

“Yeah, I thought you sounded like you were from up north.” Amber tactfully ignored the weather comment. The bartender passed over her drink, and she licked a stripe of sugar from the rim before sipping the pink concoction. “You should know, Caleb, that I don't usually do things like this, but you looked so lonely over here, I thought you might want a little company.”

Caleb let out a short laugh and took in the room at large—the neon lights and loud music, the couples gyrating on the dance floor. “Yeah, maybe.” Amber didn't know the half of it: the truth was, he was lonely, and he was tired of thinking so damn much. There was something appealing about losing himself in someone else, an effortless fling that wouldn't mean anything, like his DiceCon affair with Isabel should have been. She was beautiful, flirtatious, and probably a lot of fun in bed, but he had no interest in taking anyone home. It didn't feel right, and he didn't want to lead her on. “But I don't think I'm very good company tonight. I'm sorry. It—it isn't you, it's me.” Caleb winced at the cliché words, but they were the absolute truth. He finished his drink and pushed the glass aside.
“Recent breakup? Or jealous girlfriend?” Her smile was warmer, softer than the seductive look she'd given him earlier.

“A little of the first, I guess.” Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't want to explain his weird Isabel situation to a perfect stranger at a bar. “I'm just not feeling like myself tonight.”

Amber shrugged. “No sweat. Thanks for the drink, though.” She nodded over to the dance floor. “If you change your mind, I'm going to go dance.” Drink held aloft, she slid off the barstool and disappeared into the throng of dancing bodies.

“What the hell are you thinking?” asked a loud familiar voice nearby, and Caleb turned to see that Dan had rejoined him on the next barstool. “She's fucking hot. Did you just turn her down?”

“What happened to the woman you were talking to?” Caleb looked past Dan, but the other woman's barstool was empty.

Dan shrugged. “Meh, didn't work out.”

Caleb sighed. Catching the bartender's eye, he signaled for the same beer Dan was drinking. “I'm not in the mood to take someone home tonight.”

Dan studied him with an uncomfortable intensity, like Caleb was a line of code that needed to be deciphered. “Is it Isabel?”

Oh, right. Dan had been at DiceCon. He knew there was something between Caleb and Isabel, even if he didn't necessarily know what. Caleb gave a noncommittal shrug. He barely knew the guy.

“Not that it's any of my business, but I'm just trying to figure out why you would turn down that incredibly hot blonde who was practically climbing all over you.” Dan looked past Caleb to the dance floor. “So what is it? Are you and Isabel a thing?”

“No, I don't think so.” Caleb glanced back over his shoulder to where he could just barely see Amber in the throng. “It just doesn't feel right.”

“Suit yourself.” Dan took a long pull of his beer, then pulled a few coasters off the pile and started building a card house out of them. “Kind of surprised about you and Isabel at DiceCon, to tell you the truth. That's not really her MO. Never even seen her date anybody.”

“We're not dating. We're not anything.” Caleb drank his beer, not sure how much of that was the truth. While they certainly weren't dating, they weren't nothing, either. He thought of the obnoxious “it's complicated” description on Facebook and snorted to himself. “How long have you two worked together?”

“Three years now. Plus she's been there a year longer than me.” Dan balanced a few more coasters on his construction, ignoring the dirty looks from the bartender. “How's
Frost Prince
coming?”

“Good, I think. It's been a busy week, trying to get settled.” Caleb thought of his apartment, still full of boxes, even though he'd unpacked a few more that morning. Even if he'd wanted to pick up a girl, he had no intention of bringing her back to his half-finished place. What was he thinking, exactly? A quickie in the car? A trip back to her place? None of this had been thought through. He'd wanted to get out of the house and he'd gone, but he'd never really considered taking someone home. The only person he wanted was Isabel. “I can't think in here. I'm gonna head out. Thanks for inviting me to meet up with you.” Setting his half-drunk beer on the bar, he waved the bartender over to settle his tab.

Dan finished his card house and then knocked it down, sweeping the coasters back into a messy pile again. “Anytime. Good luck with Isabel.” He nodded to the dance floor. “I'm gonna go try and meet that blonde. See you on Monday.”

“Good luck to you, too.” Caleb watched Dan saunter over to the dance floor, confident in his unassuming body and casual clothes, and wished his life were so straightforward.

———

Isabel sat in her
parents' driveway for a few minutes after parking the car. Even though she'd taken a long, hot shower, she still felt like anyone looking at her could tell she'd just fucked Caleb in the office a few hours earlier. These were not the thoughts she should have when going to her parents' house for their regular Saturday night dinner. Never mind the inherent sadness of spending Saturday night with her parents instead of a date, which had never even occurred to her until that moment, sitting in her car and staring at the stucco house in front of her.

Her mother, Rosalyn, greeted her when she knocked, welcoming her into the cool air-conditioning with a hug and a kiss. Rosalyn looked much younger than her age; at her fiftieth birthday party earlier that year at a local restaurant, the waiter had asked Isabel in all seriousness if Rosalyn was her older sister. Isabel hadn't been sure whether to be flattered on her mother's behalf or insulted on her own, but she understood. With her shiny black hair and smooth, wrinkle-free skin, her mother was stunning, even if she never showed off her beauty. Right then, her hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a plain pair of slacks with a shirt several sizes too large.

“Julio! Isabel is here,” Rosalyn called into the other room to Isabel's father. Her mother's accent was faint after a lifetime of speaking English, but Isabel loved the lilt in Rosalyn's voice when she said her daughter's name. Isabel took in the familiar sight of home, which didn't seem small but cozy instead, and breathed in the rich scent of roasting beef.

“Boliche?” Isabel's mouth watered. “It smells amazing.”

“Your
papi
is just carving it now.” Rosalyn walked into the kitchen, Isabel close on her heels. “How is work? You're working on a new game, yes?”

“Yeah, we've been in meetings on and off all week, trying to lay everything out. Hi, Papi.” Isabel gave her father a kiss on the cheek, careful not to get in his way as he sliced through the thick beef roast on the cutting board.

“
Mi piedra
.” He smiled without looking up, calling her by her family nickname. She'd been such a stubborn child, they took to calling her a stone, and the nickname stuck. Unlike her mother, her father had a thicker accent, a rough roll to his letters that belied how long he'd lived in this country. Her mother always said it was because he emigrated later, as a teenager. “You're just in time. You could smell it driving over?”

“I just have excellent timing.” Isabel began to set the table. “How was your drive this week?”

“Big storms in Oklahoma, like I've never seen before. Thought I was going to be carried off like Dorothy.” He looked back over his shoulder and smiled at her, his white mustache twitching as he spoke. Unlike her mother, her father had gone gray young and stayed that way, saying he liked to look “distinguished” no matter how much her mother groused that he just looked old. “But I finished the new James Patterson novel and it was very good. Made the last day fly so fast.”

“You go through books like they're going out of style.” Rosalyn poured herself and her husband a glass of wine. “You want some wine, Isabel?”

“Yes, please.” She needed it after her afternoon encounter with Caleb. She felt tightly wound, not to mention super confused.

“I like the books. It makes the trip more pleasant. I get paid to listen to stories! What could be better?” Julio brought the platter of roast over to the table, the beautiful sliced beef covered with olives, onions, and potatoes. Julio had been driving trucks for Isabel's whole life, gone three to five days at a time and home on weekends, and always had audiobooks in his rig. First they were cassette tapes from the library, then CDs, and now he had a subscription to Audible and played the books through his radio with Bluetooth. He probably read over a hundred books a year that way.

“I keep telling him to retire, but no.” Rosalyn shrugged and shook her head. “I make more than enough money for both of us.”

“It's not the money,
niña
. I like the road! The books, the travel, the sights. I wouldn't know what to do at home.” Julio scooped a serving of beef and potatoes onto his plate and then passed the platter. The easy banter between Isabel's parents was soothing in its familiarity, a conversation they had often and in which neither was particularly invested. Isabel had grown up with this and was accustomed to it. Her father never begrudged her mother the fact that she made plenty of money to support the family, working in the pharmaceutical industry, and her mother never gave her father grief for being on the road so much. In their way, they had an easy truce, a friendly sort of marriage with mutual respect and kindness. Isabel envied their comfort with each other.