The Designated Drivers' Club (26 page)

“Right. I guess.”

Grace tapped him on the shoulder. “That was rude, brother. What are you doing, warning her about us?” Grace pushed him aside and held a hand out to Jenny.

Here we go, he thought. “Jenny, my sister Grace. And my mother and father.” He pointed to each and waited while they all shook her hand. Or at least, all but his mom. She jumped up and forced a hug, which made Jenny totally uncomfortable. He didn’t miss the pained look that crossed her face as she glanced at him over Mom’s shoulder.

“So, you’re the pill.” Grace smiled.

Nice way to start out, Sis.

“What?” Jenny asked, looking from one sibling to the other.

Grant held his hands up in defeat. “I didn’t say that. I swear.”

“I meant the pill that’s going to cure him of that horrible fame-chasing girl he dated last year. What a mess she was. Thank God Grant finally found his brain … and found you, of course. I understand you’re a business owner?”

“That’s right. He told you?” Jenny asked.

“No.
He
didn’t tell us anything,” Grant’s mother interjected. “We had to get that from Lauren and Hodge. In fact, Grant’s said very little at all.”

There’s a fine line here that is hard to identify. What’s too much and what’s not enough? Tell your family and suffer the endless questions and snooping? Or not tell them and then she thinks she’s inconsequential?

Grant groaned loudly before he realized everyone heard him.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to start grilling her before she’s had a chance to get to know me. That’s not exactly a good way for a guy to start out, is it?”

“Well, I don’t see the big deal.” His mother huffed in return. “We’re just being friendly.”

A loud gong sounded, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. “Ah, saved by the bell,” Grant muttered into Jenny’s ear. “Let’s get out of here.” He steered her to the front and took a seat behind Josh. The ceremony was short and simple. No one stood with them and they explained that during their vows. It was only the two of them together for now and always. Less than twenty people attended. Once the ceremony was over, they all spilled into cars and headed to a reception where simple became non-existent.

• • •

The reception was the most grandiose affair he’d seen and Grant was thankful he’d had nothing to do with it. Lauren planned the whole thing.

Around 300 people milled around; the noise level grew steadily as more arrived. Grant clung to Jenny’s hand, not letting her get away, although she tried several times. As soon as they’d made their round of greetings, they snuck out and retreated to his apartment. She barely spoke.

“That was strange — and cool,” she uttered when the door closed behind them and she had slipped her shoes off.

“Why?”

“Not the wedding. It’s just odd seeing your face on a woman. I would never have imagined it.”
Oh that.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That I was a twin?”

“What else would I mean? Of course. Were you afraid I’d have a problem with it?”

“I didn’t think it was important. She’s my sister. It’s not like we read each other’s mind or anything. And, regardless of what you might think, we don’t tell each other details of our sex lives either.” He shuddered at the thought of it. Grace had always been pretty adventurous with men and that was one part of her life he had no interest in hearing.

“She knew about me, didn’t she? You must’ve said something because she knew I existed.”

“Jenny, this is starting to sound like there’s an argument coming and I don’t have a clue why. Yes, she knew about you. When I went home she asked me if I was seeing anyone. I told her I was but it was early and I didn’t want to talk about it. She was happy for me. That’s all. Does that make you mad?”

Jenny’s phone started up, calling her a moron. Grant grabbed it from her fingers. “I hate that stupid ringtone. I’m changing it.” He found the recorder and spoke into the phone, “Jenny, someone wants you.” He pressed a couple of buttons and handed it back. “There. Much better. Not near as abrasive. Look, I don’t know why this is bothering you. It doesn’t mean anything. My family lives three states away, it’s not like you have to see them.”

“It’s just so personal — meeting someone’s family.”

Oh. THAT again.
“And you don’t do personal. I get it. This is all too personal for you. Kind of like feeding you with a damn fork. Only this is worse because you might actually like them, and then that would be even more fucking personal, wouldn’t it? It’s okay to know every inch of someone’s skin but what’s underneath it is off limits?” He pulled off his jacket, tossed it on the couch, and loosened the tie at his neck. “I hate wearing these.” He turned his back and went to the kitchen to pour a drink.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

He stepped back around the corner and narrowed his eyes. “What? I missed that.”

“I said I’m sorry. Yes, it’s too personal. Way too personal for me. I just don’t want to s — ”

“Stay? You don’t want to stay. Fine, then go.” He flung a hand toward the door and took a lengthy draw from the glass.

“No. That’s not what I was going to say. You have a really annoying habit of finishing sentences for me.” Jenny stomped into the kitchen, took the glass from him and tossed the remaining contents back with one swallow. He watched in amusement as she coughed and pounded her chest. “What
was
that?”

“Scotch.”

“Holy crap, it burns! Blah.” She stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose. He wanted to laugh but he was a little too pissed off at the moment. After shaking her head a couple of times to clear the taste, she spoke again. “I just don’t want to see it all blow up. I’m not good at this type of thing.”

“That makes two of us.”
She
was afraid it would blow up or get too personal? Emma was fine with it being personal as long as it had advantages for her. Jenny didn’t want personal. She had one foot out the door before she even came in. She didn’t want to get attached. In a way, he understood. Maybe she was afraid he’d do the same thing David did. Ironic, since they both had that same fear.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” She held her hand to her mouth.

“Seriously?” He reached out and stroked her cheek with his palm.

“Maybe. How can you drink that? It’s nasty.”

Now, he could laugh. “According to Hodge, it’s an acquired taste.”

“Pardon me if I don’t acquire it then. Gross. Can I get a water now?”

“You said you were sick.” He lifted a brow.

“The feeling has passed.” She sounded unconvinced. “I think.”

Scotch, Cheez Whiz, crackers, and shrimp cocktail. What a combination. Jenny opened her eyes in the dark and the tastes surged back. “Oh, my head.” She groaned and palmed her forehead. She looked around trying to get her bearings.

“Want some aspirin?” Grant’s voice came from beside her. He flicked on the light by the bed and she discerned that she was in his room. He sat up, bare back in full view.

“You’re naked,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, so are you.” He looked over his shoulder briefly as she glanced under the sheet. “Pretty fun way to get there too. I think I’ll have some of that aspirin myself.” He stood and padded toward the door.

“Wow,” Jenny muttered.
He really is a fine looking man.

“What?” Grant asked, leaning one hand against the jam.

Jenny shook her head. “Mind if I ask exactly how we both ended up with massive hangovers?”

“Scotch.” He smiled painfully. “You wanted to acquire the taste.”

“Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Not one of my greatest decisions.” They had pulled the bottle to the table, emptied the refrigerator of what little food he had, and played some crazy drinking game he’d learned in college. So the bedroom acrobatics weren’t just a dream, she guessed. As he walked out the door, the yellow sticky note on his backside assured her it was not. She lifted the sheet and surveyed herself again. More sticky notes. Yep, it was real.

When they finished off the scotch, they got into a debate over how much people don’t say what they mean in relationships. How hard it was to tell what they thought. People should just have a sign or sticky note that spelled it out. She remembered him going to the back room and returning with a yellow pad of sticky notes and a pen. He then wrote, “This is one of my favorite parts of you” on it and pasted it to her collarbone.

So that’s why he always looked there. Strange.

It became a contest as to which one had more favorites. Clothes came off as they pasted more notes to key areas. At one point he had kissed her so much the sticky notes had transplanted from her breast and neck to his cheek and chin. The friction of the paper between them, sticking to Jenny then Grant when they eventually fell into bed, made her giggle.

“Here you go.” Grant pushed the covers aside and sat next to her with two aspirin in his extended hand and a glass of water in the other. When she took it, he tugged a yellow sticky from her hair and kissed her.

She looked at the clock under the lamp and gasped. “I have to go. I probably have all kinds of calls.” It was just an excuse but she had nothing else.

“It’s only nine in the morning, Jen. I doubt anyone needs a ride home yet. Except maybe you.” She smoothed her hair back then draped her hands across raised knees.

“You have a point there.” He stared into her eyes. She was sure he expected her to say something more or do something but she hadn’t a clue what it would be. A yellow paper clung to her wrist. Plucking it from her skin, she placed it on his mouth. Grant pulled it off and read the words he’d written: “I want to kiss here.”

“Stay,” he said. When she started to protest, he held a hand up. “Just for breakfast. I’ll cook but I promise I won’t try to feed it to you.”

She sighed. How could she refuse that? “Okay. And maybe I can handle the fork thing.”

“Forget the fork. I have a better idea. Let’s read all the sticky notes again now that we have a light on and we’re semi-sober?” His eyes slid to one pasted at her belly button and he wiggled his brows. Jenny laughed.

• • •

That evening when she reached in her pocket for her keys to go to her first job, the stack of yellow notes slipped out and floated to the floor. The top one made her laugh again. Despite her best efforts and grouchiest snarls, she recognized she had trouble going through the day without thinking about Grant or wanting to talk to him. Against her better judgment, things definitely were personal. More personal than was safe.

“You’re in love with Uncle Grant,” the small feminine voice stated from her living room.

Jenny’s eyes shot to the small form.
NO! It’s been three weeks — I thought it was over. No more ghosts.

“You are.” Shilo smiled. “I knew it. Did you like the wedding? Wasn’t Mommy pretty?”

“Yes.”
To all your questions, dammit.

Jenny surveyed her face in the hall mirror. She massaged her scalp and forehead, feeling for bumps. Perhaps she had fallen last night and didn’t remember? Maybe another concussion was causing the apparition. The last time started with a bump on the head. She turned her head to the left, then right, surveying each side with a turned up nose. No bumps.
There has to be. Why else would I still see her?

“I’m not.” She rushed from the apartment to her car, started it up, set the GPS to her first destination, and pulled out of the lot.

“Of course you are,” Shilo argued. “Why don’t you call him? I bet he’d like that.”

“He’s working.” Jenny looked at the clock on her dash. “Well, at least he might be. It’s a little late. Besides, I’m working too. I have to pick up a customer in thirty minutes.”

“You can’t talk to people when you work?”

“Of course I can, but I don’t want to bother him.” Jenny listened to her navigation system remind her to turn left in 100 feet.

“Why would that bother him?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a non-existent person.”

“I’m not non-ex … whatever that is.”

Jenny tried not to scowl.
If a person is dead, do they still exist? Obviously they do. Otherwise, I’d officially be crazy.

“All right, I’ll call him.” Jenny dialed his number. On the fourth ring, she reached to hit the “end” button. “See, he’s not answering. He must be busy.”

“Jen?”
Rats. He answered.
“Are you there?”

“Hi.” She had no idea what to say next. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I programmed your number into my phone a few weeks ago.” She wondered when that happened. That has to mean something, right? It was before, well, before
everything
.

“Oh.” Now she didn’t feel so bad about admitting she had programmed him in also.

“Why’d you call? Is everything okay?”

I don’t know, some random ghost told me to.
She laughed nervously. “Yeah, fine. I just had a few minutes before my first pickup.”

“Wow, I guess that means you thought about me. Hey, I have to go into a quick meeting but — ”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Listen, call me when you get done tonight, okay?”

“It’ll be too late. You’ll be asleep.”

“I doubt that. For some reason, I keep seeing little yellow pieces of paper floating around in my head. Just call me. Sorry, but I have to go. Bye.” He hung up.

Great conversation.

“He doesn’t like phones much. I remember him saying that once.” Shilo crossed her arms. “But he’s glad you called. I know it.”

“You know it. Shilo, why do you keep bothering me?” Jenny pulled the car to the side of the road, and adjusted sideways to confront the child … or whatever she was. It was time to get this over with. Cleanse it out of her system. Out of her mind. Get on with her life. Whatever was causing this needed to stop. But Shilo was gone. Jenny glanced around furtively searching for the dark curls and voice. Nothing.

“He’s never going to understand this. Or believe it, for that matter,” Jenny muttered.

• • •

Work became almost overwhelming the following days. New Year’s celebrations brought a deluge of new customers, group pickups, and interesting stories to catalogue for future training sessions. She even ended up taking a customer to the hospital after he inserted sparklers in each ear. The spackling of burn marks on his cheeks and earlobes would stir interesting discussion when he returned to work.