Caching In (14 page)

“I'm not surprised,” my mom said on the other side of the line. “Competition has always been present in your friendship.”

After what happened, after work I gave in and called my mom, profusely apologizing for freaking out about her “boyfriend.” I didn’t want to call him that. Imagine my shock when I found out she and Paul started dating almost six months ago. My mom wasn’t some little girl. She was a grown woman, and grown women had sex with their boyfriends (well, I guess except me). The thought made me cringe. Accepting this as her life wouldn’t be easy, but for my mom’s happiness, I would suck it up. Besides, I already told my dad she was dating, and it wasn’t a lie; things happened to be more serious than I first thought. And, in all honesty, I
did
know my dad and he would want her to be happy.

“I don’t think we’re competitive with each other.” Chelsea and I loved each other. We didn’t compete against one another. “Why do you think that? I know her better than you do.”

“Yes, you do, but I’m on the outside looking in. I can see things you can’t.”

“How do you mean? What do you see that I can’t?” I noticed everything. I may have been blind about some things, like whatever happened between Seth and his ex-wife, or Josh cheating on me with a billion different women, but I didn’t miss things about my best friend. I needed to be her eyes because based on her relationship with Daniel, she had blinders on.

“She always tries to take credit in some way. Remember the craft fair? Even though you worked hours on every design, she claimed to be the mastermind behind every necklace and bracelet you sold. I hate to say it, but there’s also Josh.”

“Josh? How does he fit into this?”

Silence overtook the other end of the line. Finally, my mom elaborated. “All the years you were with him, you mean to tell me you never caught her eying him up?”

“No, Mother. What on earth are you talking about? She didn’t like Josh that way.”

“He’s in the past and you can believe what you want, but all I can tell you is she stared at him whenever she had the opportunity. I always caught her in gazes.”

“You never thought to tell me this? Even if she did compete with me, I doubt she wanted to try anything with Josh.”

“I don’t think she would have pursued anything.”

The microwave beeped, and I smashed my hand into the button to open the door. “Ouch!” The plate burned by finger. “Shit!”

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m a little distraught by this whole situation.” I wanted to wrap up this conversation and eat my dinner.

“Don’t you think distraught is a strong word? You’re overreacting.”

“Really? Am I? You
do
remember Chelsea is pregnant and the guy she's pregnant by is engaged to someone else?”

“Sweetie, you need to settle down.”

“How can I possibly settle down? The way Josh was, something could’ve happened between them.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Did my mom take me for idiot? “What would I even do, Mom, that’s stupid?”

“Well, don't go calling her, or texting her, or whatever it is you kids do these days, accusing her of doing things with Josh because we don't know the truth. I'm not saying anything ever happened between them. I’m only trying to illustrate Chelsea’s competitive nature, and if she wants something, she goes for it.”

I pondered this for a moment, at first upset she implied I had a shortage of ambition. “Wouldn't that mean she would go for Josh?”

“I don't know what it means, Ally. Don't blow this out of proportion, especially when you don't have all the facts.”

I sat down and stabbed my fork into the ravioli. “I’m just so pissed about this job.”

“You said you were going to tell her to go for it. Why the change of heart? Because she challenged you for it?”

“What was I supposed to do? Back away?”

“Yes, Ally. She’s pregnant. She’s going to have a child to provide for. You haven't been happy at the bank for a while now. Maybe it's time to move on.”

“To what?” I chewed rapidly. “What are my skills? Counting money? Sure, I'll be a cashier at Wal-Mart. I want a career - to do something with myself.”

“Don’t let Chelsea stop you. Go in to your boss’s office, Ally, and prove you’re the one deserving of the promotion, but don’t step all over your friend in the process.”

“You mean like she did?”

“I wish I could make you feel better about this. I don't want you to lose friends along the way to success. If you're doing this to spite Chelsea, don't. If you’re doing it to better yourself, and because it’s something you want, then go for it. Chelsea was aware you wanted to get promoted.”

My mom was right. Stepping all over Chelsea to get a promotion I didn’t want made me a crappy friend. Despite my competitiveness, being so harsh didn’t fit my genetic makeup. I couldn’t be so cold hearted.
Did
I want the promotion? A promotion meant more money, obviously, but if my goal eventually was moving on, the job added more than Bank Teller to my resume, and showed my desire for success as well. If I stayed put, I was guaranteed to go crazy, but an attempt to move on may put me in the same miserable position, only at a different place. Dinner with Daryl could eventually help me, and it wasn’t like I had to act like it was a date. I’d force the discussion and the questions. Chelsea could try to win him over with her glowing pregnancy face and her big ass boobs to match, but I’d use my brains, my power of persuasion, to work my way right into this job. I told Chelsea the game was on, and I was out to win.

----------

After I hung up with my mom, I texted Perry and let him know the situation. I didn’t tell him about Josh stopping by and pleading with me, or that Seth and I agreed to keep our hands off each other’s business, because it was none of his, but I filled him in on everything else. I never liked chatting on the phone, but I created a novel out of a text. I knew Perry couldn’t stand it, but as my brother, he tolerated it, and often teased me about it, too. He expressed how happy he was I found Seth, before calling Chelsea a few names. Perry rushed me off the phone, though, on his way out for a hot date.

The next few days at work were awkward at best with Chelsea. We exchanged a few sentences and stayed civil for the sake of our jobs and everyone’s comfort. Daryl set our interview up for the following Monday evening after work, which I liked since the timing seemed more like a business meeting. I overheard him talking with Chelsea and they agreed upon Friday evening.

I kept busy the whole week, texting with Seth and going to the gym. Friday finally arrived, and I anxiously waited for the workday to end. Chelsea and Daryl decided on dinner at the local pub, which turned out to be good news for me because I planned on tagging along, in a not so tagging along way. Seth and I didn’t make any plans until Saturday, so I intended to find out what happened with Chelsea and Daryl in the meantime. I needed an in on my competition’s game. My best move was knowing hers ahead of time.

A bar set the scene perfectly, allowing me to hide at the counter, and Chelsea wouldn’t even know I was there. I parked in the corner of the lot, feeling all James Bond in my dark outfit I wore. I wore it to work, too, though, so it wasn’t like I was
trying
to be James Bond. It happened to work out that way.

I listened to my radio until about six-thirty when they finally arrived. They drove past me, but luckily they didn’t see me. Chelsea got out of Daryl’s car, her long legs out the door well before she was. Her skirt should have been illegal this side of town, barely scooping under her butt. Her shirt sparkled, a spaghetti strap tank we bought together one day while having a shopping spree at the outlet mall outside of town. Tonight, Chelsea swooped her hair up, pinned from multiple sides, and earrings dangled from her lobes. Not to be outdone, Daryl sported a suit, fancy shoes and all.

The biggest mistake in spying is trailing too closely and much too soon, so I stayed back in the car for another ten minutes before venturing into the bar. It surprised me how dim the facility was, given the bright sun outside. Music played, although not too loud. I heard the song before … maybe Nickelback or Daughtry, someone like that. The room was filled almost wall to wall with people, and Daryl and Chelsea may have gotten the last available table. I maneuvered my way through the crowd to the bar, and grabbed the first open stool, giving me a decent, although not perfect, view of the two.

“What are you drinking?” The bartender asked the second my butt hit the stool.

“Um, Miller Lite, please.” I didn’t mind a beer now and again, but I didn’t want it to crash my diet. I stuck strictly to coffee and water, for the most part, with the occasional glass of wine or beer.

I sipped on my beer, making sure it lasted the entire time. I didn’t want to be nursing a hangover tomorrow because I wanted to enjoy every moment I had with Seth. I kept my head down as I evaluated Chelsea on her “interview.” Most interviews didn’t involve so much laughing, knee touching, and leaning over so your boss saw down your shirt.

Chelsea giggled - a lot. Bubbly behavior wasn’t typical for her. Sure, when she wasn’t whining over Daniel, most times laughter and smiles filled her face. Not this, though. This behavior we often made fun of, or gawked at while we people watched. Desperation covered her actions to a point I almost felt embarrassed to watch. However, Daryl didn’t seem to mind. He invited her gestures, and leaned in himself many times, and finally, his hand rested on her knee, and never left. I really wish I read lips better to figure out if their conversation centered around work or not. I tried to read as best I could, but it was no use. I needed to get closer if I had any chance of hearing a thing.

Grabbing my beer, I slid off the stool, bumping into someone. “Sorry,” I said, not bothering to look up. I continued toward the table, before someone took a hold of my arm. “Hey, what do you think you’re -” I turned to stand face to face with Josh.

“Ally.”

“That’s what they call me.” Not another encounter with him. Last time we saw each other, he planted a kiss on me. The thought of his lips on mine again sickened me. He stared at me, his eyes locked, and my nerves on edge. “Well? What do you want?”

A mixed drink occupied his right hand, probably something fruity. His preference always leaned toward the “girlie” drinks, and I loved to tease him about it. “I noticed you at the bar and thought it’d be rude if I didn’t say hello.”

“Now you said it. Can I leave?”

He switched his drink to the other hand. “You’re here alone.”

Not a question. A total obvious, pitiful statement. “Yeah. So, what.”

“I’m on a date.”

Like he could ever be alone. I should have realized he was there with a date. Probably tall, blonde, no, maybe brunette this time, caked on makeup. It didn’t matter. He dated anyone with boobs. “Good for you.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for the other day.”

“Done. Forgotten. Let’s move on.” I wanted him to go already. What was with this guy? Now that we broke up, he refused to leave me alone, jumping in and out of my life like a ghost.

“You know, it takes a lot for me to apologize.”

“So what, you want a medal or something? How about apologizing for all those women you slept with while we were together?” I put my finger against my chin. “Oh wait, you tried that and then kissed me.” A slender woman with dark hair and fancy glasses approached. “You must be Josh’s date.”

She put her hand on her chest to either point out her huge tits, or because she was so proud to be his date. “Yes. I’m Nadia.”

“Hello, Nadia. I’m Ally, Josh’s ex-fiancee. If you love a man who sleeps with everyone he meets, well then he’s your guy!” A few people around us stopped to witness our conversation. “Class act guy over here, folks,” I shouted as I pointed to him. Nadia stood with her mouth dropped open as I walked away, and realized strangers weren’t the only ones watching.

----------

Even I had to admit, Daryl pulled a suit off pretty well. Something about seeing him outside of the office, in an entirely different setting, made him slightly more attractive. Only slightly, though, because he still registered as a creep on my scale. “Oh, Daryl. Hi. Sorry you had to see that.” My sarcasm wasn’t a secret in the office, but I never brought out slighted, pissed off Ally to play before.

“It’s quite all right. I heard what happened. I always knew you broke off an engagement, but I didn’t know why. I’m sorry, Ally.”

I waved my hands in defeat. “Don’t worry. Old news. So, what are you doing here?” I played dumb.

Daryl pointed back to his now empty table, its only occupants half eaten plates of food, a bottle of wine, and a few papers. “I’m here with Chelsea. We’re discussing the position.”

“And Chelsea is where?”

“Bathroom. She excused herself, so I thought I’d get myself a manly drink.”

And
there
was the Daryl from work. “How’s the interview, or date, or whatever it is, going?”

He smiled. “I don’t think I should discuss that with you. You
are
the competition, you know.” His creepy eyes looked me up and down. “What are
you
doing here?” He glanced over my shoulder. “Except destroying your ex.”