Going the Distance (8 page)

“Are you sure you're not just being dramatic?”

Immune to her own irony, Maya sighed grandly and rolled her eyes. “I'm
so
sure. I have to live with them. The
only
one who does.”

Lindsey tried to imagine how things would be if she let Maya stay for the rest of the summer. The girl was almost eighteen. She wasn't a baby, and she could handle herself on public transportation while Lindsey was at work. Drama aside, she wasn't a trouble-magnet—no major partying Lindsey had ever gotten wind of, nothing with boys that sent up any red flags. Maybe a month's taste of freedom was exactly what the girl could use to make going back to face her senior year bearable.

“I'll talk to them. But you can stay with me for as long as they're okay with it.”

Maya's blue eyes widened. “Oh, my God, you are the
coolest.
Seriously?”

“Until the school year starts. You may as well get a feel for independence before you go off to college. I don't want my baby sister turning into some girl gone wild, after all.”

Maya shoved her fists into the air and hooted, “Spring break!” She'd always thought frat guys and sorority girls were ridiculous. “There's no way I'm going to college, anyhow. Why even waste nine months suffering though senior year when I can get a GED in like, a few hours? It's a blow-off year anyway. Everyone says so.”

They reached the station and climbed the stairs to the platform, and Lindsey realized she might just have some leverage on her hands.

“I'm going to make you a deal,” she said as they waited for the next train to Boston. “Provided Mom and Dad agree.”

“A deal? What deal?”

“You can stay with me for the rest of the summer,
if
you promise to go back and finish your senior year.”

Every trace of excitement left Maya's freckled face, annoyance dropping over her like a storm cloud. “No
way.
You just said I could stay, with no strings or anything!”

“I changed my mind.”

Maya stamped her foot and Lindsey had to laugh.

“Oh, my God, girl—you're almost legally an adult. If you throw a tantrum with me, you're not staying at all.”

“I'll run away. To someplace else.”

Lindsey clasped her sister's shoulders. “Just take the offer. A whole month in Boston, rent-free. I promise you, by the time school starts you'll be so bored, you'll be begging to go back.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You're not going to get a better offer. At least with me, you won't have to babysit.” Aside from Lindsey and Maya and their twin brothers, who were in college, all five of the other Tuttle siblings were married and had kids. Though if Maya agreed, it would be Lindsey who was stuck babysitting for the next month.

But c'mon. How bad could it be?

* * *

B
Y
LATE
T
HURSDAY
afternoon, Lindsey had secured the apartment, as well as her parents' blessing for Maya to stay in the city through August. Her mother had sounded grudging, but Lindsey didn't think it was because she disapproved. If their folks were fighting again, Maya had probably been their smokescreen, and without her to direct their criticisms at, they'd have to take a long, hard look at themselves. Maybe this was best for everyone.

On Friday, Lindsey gave Maya a choice—stay home or come in to work with her. Unlike her parents, she wasn't giving her sister any spending money, and if Maya couldn't afford anything fun, she might as well tag along with Lindsey. Who knew—maybe Jenna would take pity and give everyone early release once their appointments were over.

Jenna took the whole bring-your-sister-to-work thing in stride.

“If you get sick of watching us return emails,” she told Maya as she scoured the office for stray magazines, “feel free to watch TV in my apartment. It's just upstairs.”

“Do you have a computer?”

Jenna frowned an apology. “Only the one I work on, sorry.”

Maya had managed to lose her phone somewhere between Springfield and Boston, and was entering social networking withdrawal. Let this experiment in temporary adulthood begin.

The magazines kept her occupied for the start of the morning, then the chatty, antsy boredom kicked in. Jenna had a client coming shortly and told Maya, “If you're sporty at all, there's a kickboxing gym downstairs. My fiancé manages it. They're going to be opening it up to women soon. I'm sure he'd welcome female opinions about the space.”

Lindsey was fairly sure he wouldn't, but Mercer would likely play along if it was Jenna's wish.

“I'm
so
not a jock,” Maya said, flipping through
Cosmo
with renewed interest.

“I'd give you some odd jobs to do around here,” Jenna said, “but we don't have any at the moment. Maybe you could ask Mercer.” She looked over at Lindsey. “He hates filing and all that administrative stuff.”

“Would he pay me?” Maya asked.

“He better.”

Lindsey pondered the possibility, finding no downside to the girl making herself useful. At fifteen she'd been an ice cream scooper for exactly two days before quitting. In fact...if this month was supposed to scare her straight about the realities of living without parental support and send her running back to Mom and Dad and high school... Lindsey suddenly
loved
this idea.

“I'm sure they've got
something
she could do.” But nothing so pleasant as filing—no sirree. “Then you can't complain about not having any spending money. Let's go find out.”

She led her sister from the office toward the back stairs.

“Fight Academy?” Maya asked, eyeing the sign.

“You know that MMA cage-fighting stuff on TV? It's that kind of thing.”

“Weird.”

“Agreed.” Exactly what she'd thought a year ago, though now she could think of a few different adjectives.
Thrilling. Addictive. Infatuation-making.
But no chance Maya would be falling for any of the guys downstairs. She liked skinny boys with trendy hair and skateboards. Guys built like Mercer and Rich were a taste most women didn't acquire until they were a little older, when hormones shifted their radar from
cute
to
capable.

“Ew. It smells like...”

“Men,” Lindsey offered as they hiked down the steps.

It was nearing the lunch hour, and Wilinski's noontime session was always popular. There were men working out at most of the cardio stations and punching bags.

Lindsey eyed the bag where Rich had taught her to punch. She could have kissed him that night. And more. Had that really been just yesterday? Now she had a ward and a new apartment and a lot of packing to do.

“It's so
sweaty.
”

“It's a gym.”

Lindsey didn't see Rich among the toiling bodies, and couldn't be sure if that was a relief or a disappointment. She walked to the open office and found Mercer behind the desk. “Hang out here a sec,” she told Maya, and her sister shot her a look as if she'd been asked to sit tight in a shadowy alley full of junkies.

Lindsey knocked on the door frame, and Mercer looked up from his laptop. “Lindsey. What's up? Come in.” His eyes jumped to the teenage girl loitering behind her, before narrowing with confusion. She bet Maya was looking similarly perplexed. Mercer wasn't exactly a cuddly specimen, with his banged-up nose and stern expression.

Lindsey shut the door. “That's my sister, Maya. She's staying with me for August.”

“That's nice.” He leaned over and pushed a wheeled chair in Lindsey's direction.

“It's...unexpected. My folks are having issues and she kind of ran away. I told her she can stay with me until school starts, if she promises to go back for her senior year.”

“Ah.” Mercer nodded. “I put my mom through that one. And Delante put me through it. I don't envy you.”

“I'm hoping I can make it
just
miserable enough that she'll realize how good she has it in the burbs.”

“Do I come into this somehow?”

“Jenna said to ask if there are any odd jobs that need doing, to keep her busy. Like filing.”

He made an amenable face, thinking.

“But I have a better idea,” Lindsey said.

“Oh?”

“Do you have any
horrible
jobs that need doing? Like wiping down all the sweaty equipment?”

Mercer laughed. “Okay, I see your strategy. It's the members' jobs to clean up after themselves...but there's always plenty of grunt work to do—mopping the mats, laundering everyone's nasty towels.”

“Perfect. She's a girly-girl. This'll be the perfect culture shock. Plus, I'll know where she is.”

“With Rich short a leg, we could use the extra help. I can't afford to pay her much, and it can't be under the table—this place has been too shady too long. But if she'll sign a safety waiver, I could probably offer her a bit over minimum wage. Maybe scrape together three or four hours' work a day?”

“Would you?”

He nodded. “Sure. If this place doesn't scare her straight, I don't know what will.”

“Wow, thanks so much. I thought for sure I'd have to beg you.”

He stood, stretching. “I'm all in favor of keeping kids on track. Usually that means teaching them to love this sport, but if your sister needs to learn to resent it, I can swing that way.”

Lindsey stood and stepped forward to shake Mercer's hand. On impulse, she made a silly face and went ahead and hugged him. “Thanks.”

“Thank my boss,” he countered with a smile, meaning Jenna. “It's her payroll to fund.”

“She found a good one in you,” Lindsey added. It was a softer and more earnest comment than she'd normally volunteer, but gratitude had her feeling tender. “When could you put her to work?”

He checked the clock on his screen. “Midday sessions wrap at two. Send her down and either me or Rich will get her a waiver and walk her through the basics.”

“I will. Thanks.”

She found Maya right where she'd left her, seeming glued to the spot, wide eyes taking in the activity.

“Good news,” Lindsey said, then lost her train of thought completely as Rich came through the double doors.

“They'll let me do filing or whatever?”

“Sort of.” She worked hard to look casual as Rich spotted her. He crossed the floor, gym bag flopping awkwardly at his back with each swing of the crutches.

“You get lost on the way to Romanceville?” he asked, then nodded at Maya. “This the development you mentioned?”

“This is my little sister, Maya. She's staying with me until September. And Mercer's giving her random jobs around the gym for extra money. Maya, this is Rich. He works here. And he lives in my new building.”

Rich balanced a crutch against the wall and they shook, Maya's tiny, pale hand swallowed in his big tanned one. Maya looked too intimidated to reply. They didn't build them like Rich in the Springfield suburbs.

“So you took the place?” he asked Lindsey.

“I did. It's really nice. I owe you one.”

“Now you'll be on top of me at work
and
home.” His eyebrow rose and she shot him a look to say,
Knock off the innuendo in front of the minor.
“Lucky me. When you moving in?”

“This weekend. God knows how.”

“I'd offer to drive you, except...” He tapped his cast with the end of his crutch. “Need to borrow my car? It could use the workout.”

“You've done enough, really.”
Found me an apartment, got saddled with my sister in your workplace...kept me up nights for the past ten months.
“I'll let you get ready for your classes.”

“See you later, ladies.” He gave a little bow as Lindsey aimed them toward the exit.

Maya shot a parting glance over her shoulder. “He's so...muscly. Is he on steroids?”

Lindsey laughed. “No. That's just what you look like when you spend eight hours a day in a gym.”
And are possessed of too much testosterone.
“He's a professional. I got to watch him fight on pay-per-view last week.” They headed up the steps.

“So is he famous?”

“Yeah. In that scene, anyhow.”

“That is
weird.
And his job is to, like, punch people.”

“Cast all the aspersions you want, but you wouldn't believe how much he gets paid.”

“I think he was flirting with you.”

“I wouldn't read too much into that. Rich would flirt with a potted plant if you gave it a girl's name.”

Maya laughed. “So what do I have to do for those guys?”

“Oh, you'll see.”

“If it's boring, like filing and stuff, I hope they'll let me listen to my iPod.”

Lindsey grinned to herself. “Oh, I don't think you'll be bored.”

6

T
HE
NEXT
FEW
days were a blur. Lindsey missed whatever shock Maya was in store for when her duties were outlined. Had Lindsey been the one to break the news to her, no doubt a tantrum would've ensued, but thankfully Mercer had authority or intimidation on his side. Maya had dragged herself up from the gym just after five that first afternoon, smelling of disinfectant and picking at a blister on her thumb.

All she'd said was “I hate you,” but it was delivered through such a weary, defeated huff, Lindsey had just laughed.

They spent Saturday packing, and on Sunday morning Brett kindly volunteered to drive the moving van. She gave him a hug once they'd lugged everything up to the third-floor apartment, not knowing when she might see him again, and feeling okay with that.

“Take care,” he said, and she thanked him and told him the same. And then...

Freedom. She felt guilty for registering it, but the second Brett disappeared down the steps...it was as though she'd shed a heavy winter coat and could feel the breeze on her bare skin again.

She and Maya unpacked as much as they could before exhaustion and hunger had them calling it a night and ordering a pizza. She wondered if Rich might stop by, hearing them banging around upstairs, but he never did.

All too soon it was Monday. Maya went in with Lindsey, wanting to wander around downtown before her afternoon “slave labor” shift began.

Jenna was out of the office, attending a managerial seminar at the Spark headquarters in Providence. Lindsey had a meeting scheduled with a tough new client, Ben Reynolds. On paper, Ben was a cinch. Forty, cute and clean-cut, with a cool job in architecture and fun hobbies. The issue was that his request to meet a bright, goofy, down-to-earth professional woman was proving far tougher than Lindsey had anticipated.

Turned out it wasn't only men in search of trophy wives who were perfectionists. During their previous appointment it had become alarmingly clear Ben wouldn't settle for a woman unless she looked like Reese Witherspoon and possessed the worldliness of an ambassador and the wit of Tina Fey.

He'd barely settled in the guest chair when he started in. “What have you got for me this week? All the duds out of the way now. On to the winners.”

Lindsey bit her lip to keep from getting defensive about her perfectly attractive and successful and utterly non-dud-like female clients. “I've got a couple I'd like to tell you about.”

“Only a couple? What am I shelling out for?”

Her internal eye roll was epic. “I've been doing my best with your...specifications.”

“Well, quality over quantity.”

“I'm going to be honest with you, Ben...I've set you up with every childless, educated, preferably blond woman aged twenty-nine to forty-two in the city. And to be even
more
honest, they're all great. I'm not giving up on you or anything, but could you entertain the idea that these women aren't the issue?”

He crossed his legs, sighing. “I'm not going to settle for someone who's good
enough.
And she doesn't have to be perfect, just perfect for me, you know?”

“What was wrong with Andrea? I thought she'd be a home run.”

“She's just... She didn't want to get Indonesian food. She worried it was too spicy.”

Lindsey had been careful from the start to set a frank tone with her clients, choosing blunt honesty over wishy-washy hand-holding. She was grateful for it now. “Come
on—
that's the worst thing you can give me about her? You can't overlook a lack of interest in spicy food for a chance at falling in love with someone?”

“She has a weak chin.”

“Oh, Ben.” She shook her head, letting him see how ridiculous she found him. That was half the battle in this business—convincing people to get out of their own way. “I'm seriously running out of women.”

Something shifted in Ben's expression, and his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“What?” Lindsey asked.

“How about you?”

She blinked at him. “As a date?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because I'm your matchmaker, Ben. I'm not a client.”

“Off the clock, then. I'll quit the service.”

“No. That's flattering, but no way.”

“How come?” He wasn't being pushy. He was actually being rather cute, and if this had been a romantic comedy and not Lindsey's real life, she could even have been charmed. Especially if Ben were being played by Paul Rudd.

“Just no, okay?”

Rich passed by the office windows, pausing in the open door. He'd clearly been poised to interrupt, until he spotted her client. Lindsey beckoned him in. “Rich, come here a sec.”

Ben swiveled his chair, seeming unnerved to find a large Hispanic man with a stitched-up temple standing above him, braced on crutches.

“Ben, this is my boyfriend, Rich.” She made a face behind Ben's back, begging Rich to roll with it.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Hey,” Rich said.

“So that's why I won't go out with you, aside from all my other perfectly adequate reasons.”

“You're Lindsey's boyfriend?” Ben asked, sounding surprised. Surprised she'd landed him, or the other way around?

“Oh, yeah,” Rich said. “She's crazy about me.”

“Um, yes. That I am.” Lindsey frowned at Rich, unseen by Ben.

Ben looked to Lindsey. “How long have you been going out?”

She said, “Two weeks” just as Rich said, “Three months.”

“It's been
official
for two weeks,” Lindsey corrected. “We've been casual for a while now.”

“That so?” Ben asked Rich, clearly not sold.

“Oh, yeah. She's into some real freaky bedroom shit like you wouldn't bel—” He broke off as Lindsey raked a finger across her throat.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“Anyway, yeah. Me and Lindsey. Totally a thing.”

“I'll see you later, honey,” Lindsey said pointedly, and Rich departed with a smirk in her direction.

The rest of the workday passed in relative peace, Ben abandoning his hard sell, placated by Lindsey's promise to find him a suitable date by the end of the next week or refund his membership. She almost hoped she'd fail, just to get him off her plate. Though the challenge did hold a certain appeal.

At a quarter to six she found her sister in the gym. Maya had a mop in her hands, but she wasn't working. She was standing next to Rich, watching the evening grappling class. Lindsey wandered over.

“Hey. I'm ready to head home whenever these guys are done with you.”

Rich checked the clock on the wall. “You girls hang out until seven-thirty and I can score you a lift with my sister.”

Maya's face lit up. “Oh, hell, yeah. It takes me over an hour of work to even pay for the train and subway rides.”

Lindsey shrugged. “Okay.” She could use that time to strategize on the Ben issue.

“Get back to work,” Rich told Maya. “Empty the trash cans when you're done with the floors.”

After Maya left, Lindsey smacked Rich's shoulder.

He rubbed the spot. “Jeez.”

“‘She's into some freaky bedroom shit'? What the heck was that?”

“Too much?”

She shook her head, miming utter disbelief.

“What was I supposed to say? You blindsided me.” To the group he shouted “Switch!” and the fighters broke apart before tangling once more with different partners.

“You were supposed to just nod and look all intimidating. My client thinks I'm a nut-job now.”

“Did the trick, then. You're welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You wanna thank me properly? Take me out for a drink? You promised me one, that night in the cab. Before Jenna wrecked our fun and glory called me away.”

She pursed her lips, hoping her blush didn't show. She'd begun to doubt if he remembered them even discussing that.

What was the harm? She wouldn't—couldn't—misbehave too badly, what with her sister sleeping in the next room, and she could use a change of scenery after the long day. “Sure. Someplace close to home, though. I'm pooped.”

“I'll take you to the finest townie bar your new neighborhood has to offer.”

“Sold.”

“My mother wants to have you girls down for Sunday dinner to say welcome to the building.”

“That's nice of her.”

“Bring an appetite. And if you're vegetarians, repent now—she's making tamales, and at least two kinds of animal will be giving their lives for the cause.”

Lindsey laughed. “Sounds good.”

“You know your taste for MMA?”

She nodded.

“I think it's hereditary. Your sister was busting with questions.”

“She was probably just avoiding doing her work.”

He shrugged, unconvinced. “I'm gonna get a pair of gloves on that girl, first chance I get.”

“If you can get her interested in anything aside from Facebook drama and overpriced jeans, I won't stand in your way. But trust me, sweating is
not
her thing.”

“We'll see.”

A funny shiver went through Lindsey as their conversation lagged and she registered Rich's body—its nearness, the shape of his bare arms, the smell of him. In a couple hours she'd be sharing a drink with him, and a walk home. A good-night kiss? With her living situation squared away, she couldn't plead complication anymore. It filled her equally with nerves and excitement to wonder what might happen, and how their date—if that's what it was—might end.

“I'm going to wrap up some work. Meet you out front at seven-thirty?”

He nodded, gaze lingering on her mouth or chin. “See you then. Stay thirsty.”

She got absolutely nothing done. She scrolled through the Boston bachelorette database but didn't take anything in. Maya wandered in just before it was time to go, collapsing dramatically into Jenna's chair.

“Have fun at work?” Lindsey asked, shutting down her programs.

“This has got to be, like, illegal child labor.”

“Beats flipping burgers, right?”

“If you say so.”

As she locked the office, Lindsey heard Rich's unmistakable, staggered footsteps coming up the stairs, punctuated with the tap of his crutches. She smiled as he appeared, hoping she looked cool and blasé.

“Thanks for the lift.”

“Sure thing.” He led them toward the exit and Lindsey held the door. “My sister practically drives past here when she's doing her internship. Hey, there she is.” He nodded to an old silver sedan parked along the curb.

Rich opened the passenger side, and as Lindsey did the same with the back door, he shot her a look. “Don't. Change of plans.”

“Huh?”

He leaned in to address his sister. “These are the girls who just moved in upstairs, Lindsey and Maya.” He turned back. “This is my sister, Diana.”

Lindsey stooped to offer a wave and a smile through the windows at a pretty, round-faced young woman with curly black hair. Diana mouthed, “Hey.”

“You mind giving Maya a lift home? Lindsey and I are going to grab a drink. We'll catch a cab later.”

Apparently, Diana was game, as Rich hopped back and waved to tell Maya to have a seat.

Lindsey was confused, but prepared to adapt. “You have your keys, right?”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Yes,
Mom.”

Good, let her be annoyed—whatever killed the illusion that life with Lindsey was going to be some thrill-a-minute adventure in urban living. “See you later, apparently. Thanks, Diana.”

“Sure thing,” she called, and Maya slammed the door.

As they pulled away, she turned to Rich. “Change of plans, huh?”

He smiled. “I've been waiting ten months for this drink. Realized I don't want to waste it in the neighborhood bar, getting interrupted by everyone I've ever met coming over to say congratulations.”

“That's fair. Where to, then?”

Rich flagged a cab as it approached, the gesture effortless, as though vacant cabs tailed him like pilot fish. “Someplace where nobody even knows what MMA stands for,” he said, putting the
Cheers
theme in Lindsey's head.

As they climbed into the back he asked, “You know of a place like that?”

She gave the driver the name of an upscale bar where she and Jenna had held a couple of Spark happy-hour mixers. She was suddenly glad she'd dressed nicely. Rich would look woefully out of place, but if she knew this man at all, he wouldn't give a crap what anyone thought of him.

The bar was on a side street a block from the park. Rich paid the driver and Lindsey held the door to the bar open so he could swing himself inside.

It wasn't even eight, but the dim lighting and sophisticated atmosphere made it feel like two in the morning.

“Here okay?” Rich led them to a booth for two in the front corner. A touch romantic, plus good people-watching through the window if they found they had nothing to talk about.

“Perfect.”

The waitress dropped off cocktail and tapas menus, gaze lingering on Rich. Lindsey knew that look, and it had nothing to do with him breaking an unspoken dress code. That was the look of a woman who wouldn't mind taking body shots off most any part of the male landscape poorly hidden behind Rich's T-shirt. “I'll be right back for your orders.”

Rich scanned the drinks list. “I have no clue what most of these are. You order for me.”

“Oh?”

He closed the menu. “Surprise me.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Go nuts. Whatever you get me, I'll drink.”

Liking this game, she perused the list, weighing her two choices—embarrass the hell out of this oft-obnoxious man, or order something decent and maybe impress him. Or the third choice, order him something exceedingly strong and have her way with him. In the end, she ordered a pint of expensive imported beer and a cosmo.