Latson gives me a lopsided smile and takes a seat. “So, how are you?”
“I’m good. Just a little clogged.”
He laughs. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
“It is.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Gallbladder,” I explain. “Your father plans to take it out around noon.”
Latson nods like he understands. “I’m sorry I left earlier. I would have hung around, but you had Pete. I knew you were in good hands.”
I would never have expected him to stay and I find it odd he would think so. “I’m not your responsibility,” I tell him. “You shouldn’t apologize. You helped me so much.”
Suddenly, it dawns on me how much. I remember the conversation from the car. “Have you really not spoken to your father in two years?”
Latson leans back against the seat with a resigned slump. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
I realize I asked a very personal question when he lets out a heavy breath and runs his hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That is none of my business. In case you haven’t noticed, I embarrass myself a lot. I trip, I get trapped in gym equipment, and I speak before I think.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And you dance in your underwear.”
My cheeks turn red. “That, too.”
Latson leans forward and sets his elbows on his knees. “I’m kidding. You shouldn’t be embarrassed about the dancing.” He catches my eyes with his and smiles. “You’re gorgeous.”
Is it hot in here? I feel hot. I resist the urge to fan myself. “I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you.”
“Why would you punch me?” He looks shocked. “I complimented you.”
“Because! You scared me that day. My goal wasn’t to give you a free show.”
“What was it?”
“To relax. Unwind. Be carefree. Forget.”
“Did it work? I mean, until you saw me?”
“Well, yeah.”
Latson looks impressed. “Maybe I should try it sometime.”
An image of him doing the sprinkler or some other lame dance pops into my head. I laugh. “You’ll have to let me know when the pressures of Torque get to be too much. I’ll remind you about Stripper Therapy.”
“It has a name?”
“It does now.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who unwinds the way you do.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m unique.”
There’s a knock on the door. Before I can answer, a nurse appears. “Oh, hello. I’m sorry to interrupt. I just need to check your IV.” She rounds my bed. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Much better than when I first got here.”
She smiles. She checks the tube taped to my arm and the level of fluid in the IV bag. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“A bacon double cheeseburger.” Now that the pain has subsided and I’ve slept, I’m starving.
She shakes her head. “No food after midnight before surgery. I meant a blanket or an extra pillow. Or water. You can have that.”
I frown. “Water it is then.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She leaves and Latson watches her go. When the door closes, he turns to me. “If I could, I would sneak you in a burger.”
I shift my weight in the bed. “I might have to take you up on that. I’m not supposed to eat like I used to, at least not right away. Pete’s going to watch me like a hawk. I’m sure he’ll have me eating tofu until I go back to Michigan.” I make a face.
“That’s no fun,” Latson agrees. He pulls out his phone. “I’ve been meaning to get your number.”
I’m skeptical and he notices. “For work,” he clarifies. “But, now I have another reason. Covert ops.” He flashes the one-dimple smile. “What is it?”
I want to give him my number. It makes sense. However, he’s wearing a very non-business like expression. “This is for work only, right?”
“And the occasional smuggling of food,” he says as he opens his contact list. He looks up at me expectantly and when I don’t give him what he’s waiting for his smile fades. “Why are you fighting my friendship?”
I try to answer and nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say. There is no logical reason, other than Derek’s cheating put a sour taste in my mouth.
A realization settles over Latson’s features and his lips form a thin line. “You know, don’t you.”
His words are a statement, not a question. “Know what?”
“Who told you?” His tone is accusatory. “Pete? Or was it Jules?”
I’m lost. I can’t answer him.
His eyes harden. “Or was it Google?”
Whoa. Where is this coming from? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He stands. “Never mind.” He shoves his phone in his pocket and turns to leave. “Let me know if you still want the job.”
What the hell? Why is he mad?
He walks to the door and grabs the handle.
“Wait,” I stop him. I’m so confused. “What just happened here?”
He yanks open the door. “Goodbye, Jen.”
Chapter Nine
I pluck the guitar strings in a mess of notes. The lyrics I wrote at the beach came so easily. The music, on the other hand, is giving me a tough time.
“Everything okay in there?” Jules calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah.” I lean over to look at my notebook and wince. “I can’t seem to think straight.”
“That’s probably because you’re hopped up on paid meds.” She rounds the corner. “Are you sure you don’t want something else besides green tea? Like food?”
I lift my pencil and shake my head. I’m sore. Five tiny incisions dot my stomach, ranging from my bellybutton to my side to just beneath my ribs. The thought of digesting anything makes me queasy. “I think I’ll stick with liquids, at least for today.”
Jules walks over and sets a steaming mug on the coffee table. “Well, you should try to get some chicken broth down later. Or one of those vitamin drinks Pete bought. You need nutrition.”
I look up at her. I’d rather not choke down some chalky concoction, either. “I promise I’ll eat tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she says as her eyes narrow. “Don’t think I’ll forget. While Pete’s at work it’s my job to take care of you.” She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch and tucks her legs beneath her. “What are you working on?”
“A song I came up with the other day. I was watching a couple and they were arguing. When the woman walked away, I asked her if she was okay. She told me her fairytale had ended. It struck me.”
“I’ll say.” Jules reaches for my notebook. “May I?”
“Go for it.”
I strum the strings while she reads my song. Since my mind doesn’t want to come up with anything original, I start to play “Hey There Delilah” by the The Plain White T’s. I hum the words and make it to the second verse before I realize the band’s name reminds me of Latson.
Jerk.
I stop singing and just play. I don’t know what got into him at the hospital. One minute everything was fine and the next he was pissed. Since then, I haven’t spent much time awake to think about what he said. Do I still want the job? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can handle working for someone who refuses to communicate.
“You’re really good,” Jules interrupts my thoughts.
I stop playing. “Thanks. I have fun with it.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you with your new song.” She slides my notebook back to me. “When it comes to music, I’m illiterate.”
“That’s okay.” I smile. “You can be taught, though. Maybe you should ask Pete for a guitar for your birthday.”
She tips her head, considering it. “I think the triangle would be better. Or the tambourine.” Her eyes light up. “We could be a two-woman show! Jules and Jen. J and J.”
I start to laugh, but stop because it hurts. “We could combine it and be Jenniferana. Or Juliffer.”
“I like it.” Jules grabs my notebook and rips out a clean sheet of paper. “I’m in charge of designing our album cover.” She shoots me a sly look. “And hiring the roadies.”
I get the feeling they would end up being Pete and his crew. “It’s not like we don’t know a bunch of guys,” I say. I adjust the guitar on my lap. “Now all we need is a tour bus.”