Risking Ruin (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-four

Marisa arrived at River City Coffee and found Erica already at a table, sipping a mug of what Marisa knew was some sort of tea with honey.  Erica only ever drank decaf tea with honey while she worked.  She claimed her work hyped her up enough.  Marisa was glad.  She wanted Erica as mellow as Erica could be for this conversation.

“Let me get a latte and I’ll be right over,” called Marisa to her friend.  Erica waved hello in response.

Once Marisa sat down, Erica launched into her.  “So, what do you mean by didn’t have sex with him twice?  How do you not have sex twice?”

Marisa explained the best she could.  She and Trip were electric together.  He couldn’t keep his hands off of her and she had the same need to touch him.  He’d been lovely to her in every possible way.  As long as they didn’t actually have sex, they could justify that they weren’t in a sexual relationship and therefore try to avoid the professional consequences of their attraction.

Erica eyed Marisa skeptically and put down her tea cup.  Marisa braced herself for Erica to call her out on this bullshit rationale that she and Trip had developed. 

“So, you guys are pretending to be high school students?  You know, anything but and you still consider yourself a virgin?”

Marisa blushed. 
Actually, that’s exactly what’s going on
, admitted Marisa to herself and feeling slightly silly at the comparison.

“So, when you said you didn’t have sex with him twice, you mean that you guys fooled around, but didn’t ‘go all the way’ as the cool kids in the cafeteria call it?”

Marisa nodded and sucked her lips in. 
Come on, Erica.  Call me out. Tell me it’s crap and I should just either sleep with him or not.

“You know, I kind of like it,” said Erica, leaning back in her chair.  “Assuming he’s meeting your needs, it’s probably refreshing.  Truth be told, sometimes I wish Josh had a reason to focus on something other than just trying to get his dick in me as quickly as possible.   It’s been months since he went down on me. I bet you’ll get that regularly.  Damn smart, if you ask me.”

Marisa’s blushed deepened.  “It’s working out well,” she replied mildly, avoiding Erica’s gaze.

“However, you guys know you’re going to crack at some point, right?  That’s how the head cheerleader ends up getting pregnant,” said Erica sagely.

“Look, this isn’t a long term solution.  It’s just until we can figure out how to deal with the professional consequences of being involved.”

“Then decide.”

“It’s not that easy,” said Marisa, avoiding Erica’s gaze and looking anxiously around the coffee shop. 

“What isn’t easy about it?”

“Well, I need to keep Branco’s business.  I can’t stop being the company’s lawyer and Trip doesn’t want that either.  I don’t want the gossip and he doesn’t want the gossip about fishing off the company pier or whatever.”

“So, what’s the option, then?”

Marisa sighed, took a sip of her latte, and leaned back in her chair.   She moved her eyes to the ceiling.  She couldn’t stomach seeing Erica’s reaction to what she about ready to say.

“We have to get Jimmy’s dad to state in writing that it’s okay for us to have sex.”

Marisa felt the splatter of tea on the front of her blouse.

“Oh my God, I did not mean just to spit all over you!  I’m so sorry!  That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!  You have to get a permission slip?  I’m sorry but that is completely fucked up.” And with that Marisa knew that Erica was off to the races.

“How is that going to go?  ‘Hey, Dad, you know our smokin’ hot lawyer chick?  Can I bang her?’” Erica rolled with laughter. 

“Or even better, ‘Sir, thank you for this meeting.  I’d like to discuss with you whether it might be appropriate for your son to fuck me senseless.  He’s been doing a fabulous job with his fingers, not to mention his mouth, but I’d really like to see if he can step up his game and make me orgasm while inside me.  If you’ll just sign this permission slip, then that would be splendid.’”  Tears streamed down Erica’s cheeks.

Marisa pursed her lips together, placed her crossed arms on the table, and said nothing.  She deserved every bit of this.

Erica turned her voice deep, attempting to approximate an older man.  “‘Excellent idea as usual, Marisa.  Where do I sign?  I’ll walk you down to my son’s office and you can get started on this right away.  I hear office sex is quite lovely.  Please keep me updated on any developments.’”  Erica howled and pounded the table with the palms of her hands.

“Please,” she said, gasping for breath.  “Please tell me that is some sick lawyer joke.”

“Nope. I wish it were, but it’s not.  Either I can’t be Branco’s lawyer anymore or Trip’s dad has to sign off on it.  It’s called a waiver and it has to be in writing to be any good.”

“Oh, sweetie,” said Erica, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down.  Erica reached over and patted Marisa’s crossed arms.  “That sucks.  You’ve got a hard call to make.  I know you’ve worked so hard to build up your law practice and make partner at your firm.  I’m not telling you to lose that, but I also know from how sick you look that you really like this guy.  I can’t tell you what to do.  How much of your business is tied to Branco?”

“About half,” replied Marisa quietly.  “I pulled the numbers the other day.  It wouldn’t ruin me, but it would definitely make my life more difficult.  Plus, if my partners found out, I’m not sure how they would react.  I could lose my job entirely. 

“I also worry about the companies who hired me because Branco trusted me.  I can’t go to them, ‘Hey, y’all, everything is fine with me and Branco.  I just decided to start sleeping with Trip Brannon, so I can’t work for them anymore, but please, let me work for you.’  If I did that, I’d look like a total slut.  If I don’t say anything, they’ll assume that I screwed something up and Branco fired me, so they should probably fire me, too.”

Erica nodded slowly.

“So, I’ve got to keep Branco as a client and it is Trip’s family’s company, so it’s not like he’s leaving.”

“Okay, I get that.  So, what about this permission slippy waiver thing?  Would it really be that awful?”

Marisa stared at Erica.  “Are you kidding?  I’d almost rather ask
my
dad for permission to have sex with Trip than Jimmy Brannon.  He’s a hard ass.  Plus, he could fire my firm on the spot just for asking.”

“Could Trip ask him?”

“I don’t know,” said Marisa, shifting her weight back and forth in her chair.  “I don’t know their relationship well enough, but I can’t imagine it would be easy for him to ask and Jimmy could still decide to fire my firm for him asking.”

“I think that’s the only way.  You’re going to have to put your big girl panties on and deal with this.  If Trip wants this relationship, then he’s going to have to do some work to make it happen.  Make him work for it.  He’ll appreciate it more.  He’ll appreciate you more.”

Marisa sighed.  Erica was right and Marisa knew it.  Trip was going to have to have a hard talk with his father if they were going to continue seeing each other.  “Thanks, Erica.”

“No, thank
you
.  I’ve had a miserable day with a gallery fighting about what goes in my next show in Chicago and I needed that laugh.  I really am sorry you’re going through this and there isn’t a magic wand.”

“Speaking of magic wands,” said Marisa, glad to see an opening to change the topic.  “Does Miriam still want a
real
magic wand for her birthday?”

“It’s not a wand. She wants a trident to control the power of the seas. Good luck finding that at Target.”

Chapter Twenty-five

“Mom, is it okay if I spend this weekend with you and Dad?,” asked Marisa when she got back to her office after her rowdy coffee break with Erica.

“Of course, honey.  It’s your home, too.”

“Thanks.  I’m actually doing the running leg in a triathlon Saturday morning in Cordova at the high school, but otherwise will be spending the weekend with you guys.”

“That actually works well.  Your dad has a shift at the Co-Op on Saturday morning until lunch and I’m set to do some pricing with some other girls from church for the bazaar that is next month.”

“Great.  I’ll come from work on Friday, so we can have dinner together.”

“I’ll let your father know, honey.  Have a good rest of the week.  We’re looking forward to seeing you.  I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom,” said Marisa and she turned back to her work. 

On Friday evening, Marisa packed up her briefcase, hopped in her car, and sat on Poplar Avenue with half of Memphis’s population.  She hated driving to her parents on Friday during rush hour.  The departure from downtown and East Memphis to Germantown, Collierville, and the other eastern suburbs was painfully slow.   She vastly preferred heading to see her parents on Saturday mornings when the streets were empty. But she’d told Trip she’d run for him.  She wasn’t going to let him down.

When Marisa arrived at her parents’ farmhouse, her dad greeted her at the backdoor with a hug.  “Mom’s run out to get some more milk for you.  We were almost out and she knows how much you like it with your coffee.”

“That’s sweet of her,” said Marisa, kissing her dad on the cheek.

“So, how’s Mister Client-in-the-Newspaper?”

Marisa was not prepared for this.  She froze.   Her dad laughed.  “Good.  I hoped so. Any chance we’ll get to meet him?”

Marisa took in a deep breath.  “Not sure.  It’s early days yet, but he’s taking me to dinner on Thursday night.”

“Is he treating you right?,” asked her dad.

“He is.  Don’t worry about it. And don’t tell Mom.”

“’Don’t tell Mom’ what?,” parroted Marisa’s mother as she pushed through the back screen door with a half-gallon of skim milk in her hand.

Marisa’s dad swept in.  “Don’t tell Mom that you wanted to take us out for dinner tonight when she’s spent the afternoon cooking for us.”

God bless, him.  That could have been a disaster.

“Oh, honey, did you want to go out?  We can still go out.  We can have the roast tomorrow night.”

“No, Mom, that’s fine.  It will be better tonight I’m sure,” said Marisa, taking the milk from her mom’s hand and placing it in the fridge.  “Plus, I have to be up at the high school in Cordova tomorrow for that triathlon and should go to bed early.”

“Yes, the triathlon. This is new,” remarked her dad.  “And you’re doing a relay?  Running the last part?  Anyone we know on your team?”

Marisa did not miss the clear intent behind her dad’s question.

“No.  It’s a bartender at a restaurant I go to a lot.  The runner in his team had to go out of town unexpectedly and he asked if I’d be willing to step in.  It’s just a 5K, so it shouldn’t be that much different from what I normally do.”  Marisa could see the disappointment that wasn’t quite hidden on her dad’s face. 
Another lie.  I really hate doing this
, thought Marisa. 
Although, it is better than telling Mom about Trip.  Either she’d faint from the thought of me having pre-marital sex or she’d start crocheting baby booties before she goes to bed.

“Sounds like fun,” said her mom.  “I wish I could be there to cheer you on, but I promised the other girls on the committee that I’d be there to help price the donations.”

“It’s last minute and totally not a big deal.”

“Well, if it’s a big deal to you, it’s a big deal to us,” said her dad, who still prided himself on attending every one of Marisa’s high school cross-country meets. 

“Got it.  But, this isn’t a big deal.  There is a little party afterwards.  I can’t imagine I’ll stay long, since I don’t know the person who is doing the bike leg at all and don’t know the guy who is doing the swim leg very well.”

“Stay as long as you’re having fun, honey.  Just be home for dinner.  We’ll go out tomorrow night to celebrate your first triathlon, I promise.  Now, the roast is ready.  Let’s sit down for dinner.”

***

“Hey, Bert!  Hey!,” shouted Marisa as she waved her arms in the air.  The high school’s parking lot had been converted to the transition zone for the race.  It was where the racers would change equipment or, if doing a relay, would tag off.   The parking lot was crowded and buzzing with athletes. Bert had texted Marisa the number of their team’s station, but it still took her a few minutes of wandering to find it.

“Marisa!,” Bert called.  “So glad you made it.  Thanks for filling in for Trip.  This is Sid.”

“Hey, Marisa, I’m Sid.”

Marisa shook the outstretched hand of the lanky man in front of her.  “Nice to meet you.  So you both cycle with Trip?”

“Yeah,” replied Sid.  “He’s been riding with us for a few years.  He’s quite the bike nut.”

“I’ve seen the garage,” said Marisa, nodding.

“If you ever want to find any of us on a Sunday afternoon, we’re typically in his garage.  The guy has tons of equipment.   He lent me the wheels I’m using today about six months ago.  I’m not even sure that he remembers,” continued Sid.

“Oh, I’m sure he remembers,” said Bert, turning to Sid.  “He just doesn’t care as long as you’re using it.  I’ve had a spare mountain bike frame of his for about three years now.  And it’s super nice – a carbon fiber Ibis Mojo.  I don’t want to think how many drinks I’d have to pour to save up for that in tip money.   I keep asking him if I can just buy it off of him, but he says he’s not using it, so I should enjoy it.”

“I’m not going to sweat it, then,” replied Sid.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t.   So, Marisa, this is your first time doing a relay, right?”

“In a triathlon, right.  So you just come into this area,” she gestured to the rectangle in the parking lot where a rectangle had been drawn with chalk. “And then we tag and I take off?”

“Bingo.  Just stay in the transition zone.  You must tag off in this area and Sid has to be off his bike when you guys tag.  This run leg is a loop.  The finish line is over there in the school bus loading area.”

“Got it.”

“We knew you would, Runner Girl.”

“Then the beer and post-race party is in the school’s soccer field,” added Sid.

“Sounds like a fun morning,” said Marisa with a grin on her face.

“It’s a little addictive,” admitted Sid.

Sid and Marisa hung out in the transition zone, next to the other relay teams, while Bert disappeared into the high school for the swim leg.  Before they knew it, Bert was running to them, barefoot and soaking wet.  Inside the chalk rectangle, he and Sid tagged. Sid zoomed off on his bike in chase of the two cyclists ahead of him and was followed by a tight knot of bikes.  Marisa was so excited that she bounced up and down shouting “Go!  Go!  Go!”

Bert places his hands on his knees and bent over to get his breath.  “Okay, Runner Girl.  We’ve got some time until Sid is back.  He’s really talented, so with any luck, we’ll be in a good position.  It’s going to be up to you to bring it home for us.”

“No worries.  I’m a fighter.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Trip’s girl.”

Marisa felt her cheeks warm.  To avoid Bert seeing her blush, she bent down to ensure her shoelaces were double knotted.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.  He’s one of my best friends.  I’m just really happy that he’s happy.”

Marisa wasn’t sure how to respond, so she muttered, “Um, thanks.”

Bert laughed quietly at her discomfort and began to put his own shoes on.

Soon, Sid’s banana yellow bike whizzed back into view.   Marisa felt adrenaline course through her body.  She was transported back to high school and college cross-country races.  She and Sid slapped hands and she took off. 
It’s three miles.  I’m going to run my ass off. 
As promised, Sid had taken the lead, but the margin was slim. 
I just need to hold on
, thought Marisa as her feet pounded the pavement. 

Marisa thought of nothing else but moving her body forward for the length of the course.  When she made the final turn, she saw the entrance to the school bus loading area. She wasn’t used to sprinting, but she kicked herself into gear as best as she could, narrowly staying ahead of the skinny guy who was at her back.  She crossed the finish line and was all smiles.  She quickly found Sid and Bert.

“We won!  We won!,” she told them excitedly.  The two exchanged a glance.

“Uh, Marisa, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we haven’t won,” said Sid in a cautious tone.

“But I crossed the line first,” said Marisa defiantly.  “Did you not see me hold that guy off?”

“And that is precisely how it works in running races,” said Bert, as one would speak to a small child.  “However, not everyone can start swimming in the pool at the same time, so it’s staggered with a fifteen second delay between swimmers.  I was one of the first people in the pool this morning.  We won’t know where we came out precisely until they announce the winners at the post-party.”

“Oh,” replied Marisa, chastened.

“Come on, Runner Girl. Let’s go have beers.”

Marisa and the guys wandered over to the soccer field and enjoyed the post-race festivities.  There was even a small band.  The three had a great time laughing and Marisa got over her embarrassment of claiming victory too early. Their team had finished fourth in a field of twelve.  In the middle of her second beer, she paused and looked at her new friends.

“So, why do you call me Runner Girl?”

Again, the two men looked at each other, each silently urging the other to answer.

Finally, Bert spoke up.  “I’ll let Trip answer that. He’s a stand-up guy, Marisa. He gets a lot of crap said about him, but he’s really a solid guy.  Please be nice to him.”