What She Wanted (20 page)

He slowed, indicating we were, in fact, headed for the water tower. “Now, wait. I’m not wearing plaid or camouflage or a cowboy hat. Nothing on me says John Deere.”

“Fine, but if we get in trouble, I’m selling you out.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Probably not.

I followed him up the narrow metal rungs, praying not to lose a flip-flop. Each of our footsteps echoed off the tank, where our ladder was attached. Scents and sounds of the day’s commotion dissipated in the humid air as we climbed higher.

Dean sat on the grated platform and swung his legs over the edge. I crept onto the walkway beside him and reconsidered my feelings about heights. I lowered my body beside his, slowly. The guardrail did little to protect us from the ten-story fall. Toy cars and ant-sized people trolled the streets below. “Wow.”

“Yep.”

My stomach adjusted after a few minutes, when the platform didn’t crash to the ground. If I looked out, and not down, the view was breathtakingly beautiful. I gathered my camera into my hands and stole a hundred moments in time as the sun burrowed low on the horizon.

Several minutes later, lights from the carnival flipped on and fireflies lifted off for the night. Country music piped through speakers over the high school football field. A tilt-a-whirl and the flying swings ride sprang to life, shooting laughter and squeals into the air. I tucked the camera safely away and resolved to create a memory of this night that would last forever.

Dean looked at me for the first time in a long while. The amber glow of a nearly spent sun framed the back of his head like a strange halo. “Did you get the shots you wanted?”

“Yeah.” I warmed in appreciation of the space and silence he’d given me to do my thing without being rushed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“What was that about earlier? Do you know Jason?”

I slumped, hating to retell the story of my ignorance. Again. “Arnold was hassling me about the apartment. Joshua and Jason came to the rescue.”

“Joshua’s your dad, right?”

“Yeah. He and Officer Green are friends, I guess. How do you know Officer Green?”

“I take care of his lawn on the side. Are you speaking to your dad now?”

“No. We didn’t really talk. Arnold was in my face and Joshua came out of nowhere and put a stop to it. Then, you showed up and he left. I don’t think it was your fault. I saw him with his wife. Maybe she doesn’t like the idea he has another kid.”

Dean didn’t respond.

I gave him a careful evaluation. “Can I ask you something personal?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Anything.”

“What happened that night at the quarry?” I was stupid for asking a question I didn’t want the answer to, but I had to know. It’d been on my mind almost a week, and I couldn’t take it anymore. My stupid heart was falling hard for Dean, whether or not I thought it wise. Whatever he said, I needed to hear it now, instead of later. I braced myself, fake smile at the ready.

Dean wet his lips and searched my face for something. “I told Blaire there was no chance at anything happening between her and me.”

Hope curled my toes and I nearly lost a flip-flop. “Why?”

He pierced me with a regretful stare. “I told her it was weird for me. I was with Kylie for years in high school. She was my first and Blaire’s her family.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It’s not okay. I lied.”

“What?” My tummy took a swan dive, plummeting messily onto the street below.

Dean’s Adam’s apple rose and fell. “That wasn’t the only reason I can’t be with her.”

I lifted my gaze to him and held my breath. Whatever was happening between us raised the hair on my arms and pooled heat in my core. “What’s the other reason you can’t be with her?”

He leaned closer, watching me. His gaze darted from my eyes to my lips, asking for permission he didn’t need.

“Dean. What’s the other reason?” My voice was a whisper, barely audible over the wind whipping around our elevated position.

He pressed warm lips to my forehead and knotted steady fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck. “I can’t be with Blaire because I want to be with you.” His sweet voice caressed my face. He pulled back with a look so sincere, I ached.

I lifted my chin in offering, testing the lie that said it couldn’t be true.

Dean pulled me closer, covering my mouth gently with his.

The moment passed and our breaths swam together, far too labored for such a chaste exchange.

“Say something,” he whispered, his forehead on mine.

What could I say? I’d dreamed of this moment for six years, and the reality was so much better. I wanted more.

I needed to hear the words again. I needed to know this wasn’t a dream. “You want to be with me?”

He cupped my jaw in his free hand. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.”
Fireworks exploded in my head and in the air over the tower. I couldn’t move for fear of tumbling ten stories to the ground and dying happily, without knowing what else Dean’s lips were capable of.

We turned our chins up, enjoying the perfect moment. Fireworks, friendship, and hope that lifted my tired heart.

“I’m so glad you’ve let me get to know you.” He smiled into the night.

I sagged into him, resting my weight in the strength of his arms. We settled against the water tank, feet dangling, hearts soaring. His arm curled over my shoulders. I raised my hand to play with his fingertips. “Me, too.”

He rocked against my side. “I should’ve come over with pizza years ago.” The smile in his voice was catchy. “Who knew that was all it took to make you fall in love?”

I rested my cheek against his hand hanging over my shoulder. “Who doesn’t love pizza?”

“True. There was extra cheese and everything.”

I slid my eyes in his direction.

“I really like you, Katy.”

These were officially my favorite words of all time. They spun around me in the dark like fairy godmother magic, turning the tattered rags of my heart into a glimmering gown worthy of a ball.

“What are you thinking?’ His low tenor warmed me through.

“I’m feeling a little like a princess.” Hoping the spell wouldn’t be broken at midnight.

He squeezed me tighter as the firework finale grew to a crescendo above. “Care for a bumpy ride home in my rusty, ten-year-old carriage?”

“Can we sit here a few more minutes first?”

He kissed the top of my head and lay his cheek against it, so the kiss couldn’t float away. “Babe, I would sit here all night if you wanted.”

And we almost did.

I couldn’t remember how I got to work the next morning or much else after Dean kissed me and said he wanted to be with me. The mean girl in my brain said he was up to something and I should forget about him because it wasn’t real. My dad had left. My grandpa didn’t want me. My other boyfriends had only wanted something from me. I did my best to ignore the mean voice and enjoy the moment, but she was a pain. Anyway, Mark was coming around, so anything was possible.

I arrived at work early, before Essence officially opened, to take advantage of the high-end software and avoid interruptions. The phones were quiet until nine most days, and there were no appointments or guests. Sylvia always spent the mornings in her office until lunch reviewing the books, her schedule, and the other boring sides of business.

I set Mom’s journal on the desk and it fell open to the most reread page. The list. I was still working on chasing my dreams. Maybe it was time to apply to photography school.

The only problem with that was I’d missed my opportunity. My fantasy of attending New York Film Academy had been out of reach to start with, like riding a unicorn, and Mark’s inaction had cinched it for me. No financial aid. No point in applying. Not to mention everyone had gotten their acceptance letters months ago. Fall semester started in six weeks. I’d be lucky to get into classes at the community college this late in the game.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to get another dream. I’d never considered any other future for myself, but maybe I was shortsighted. What was my real purpose in life? Did I have one?

“There you are.” Sylvia’s voice floated through the chilly air-conditioned room.

I checked the time on my screen. She never spoke to me before ten. “Hi.”

She turned the “Open” sign on and swept lithely to my desk, where she pressed her palms on the cool glass covering my workspace. “What are you doing?”

I surveyed the journal and multiple photo files open on my desktop.
Feeling existential
. “Struggling with some basic cropping and filter issues. I should’ve gotten closer shots.” Unless I wanted a career in criminal surveillance, I needed to get more personal with my subjects.

“Don’t fret. We all get better with practice, and your work is already outstanding. Thanks to the massive impromptu giveaway you hosted, Essence has work lined up for the next three months.”

“Really?”

“Really. Many of them have requested you, personally.”

I marveled at the cheeky grin pasted on her porcelain skin. Sylvia was proud of me.

She slid a narrow hip onto my desk and lowered her eyes to mine. “Mrs. Baxter was bragging about your plans for her butterfly garden brochure. Have you been out to shoot it yet?”

“Not yet, but I think we’re having a belated birthday lunch soon.” Mark had spoken with her and reminded me to go. Maybe I could accomplish both in one visit. “I’m glad she liked my plan.”

“She loved it. In fact, she requested all the upgrades after seeing the mockup you made. Your pay went from three hundred to almost seven.”

I slow blinked. “Seven hundred dollars?”

“That’s correct.”

“For one brochure I’m excited to shoot?” Adrenaline coursed through me. It didn’t seem fair, and it certainly wasn’t work. It was gloriously impossible. “When Mark’s back to work, I can get a normal apartment with that kind of deposit.”

The lines on her forehead deepened.

The doorbell interrupted whatever she seemed ready to say. A man in a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and shiny black shoes stood inside the threshold. He scanned the office with warm approval, lingering his gaze on Sylvia’s national award–winning photo, framed and matted on the far wall. His gold watch and silver Lexus said plenty about him. I tried not to gawk at the beautiful car beyond the plate glass windows. His Coach satchel said the rest.

She air kissed his cheeks, and he kissed her hand.

“Katy, this is Roger Montgomery. Roger, this is Katy Reese.”

The man appraised me and the photos on my desktop. “Very nice to finally meet you, Katy. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hello.” I hadn’t heard anything about him. My attention jumped repeatedly from his face to his bag. The embossed leather on his satchel said NYFA.

Sylvia snaked an arm under his and guided him toward her office. “I know your time is limited.”

Her door clicked shut, and my heart zoomed. I didn’t want another dream. I wanted New York Film Academy.

I clicked through shots from the parade with more gusto. I needed something powerful for her gala. If the shot was worthy, Sylvia might make a personal recommendation for me.

I sent a quick text to Heidi to summarize the dilemma.
“Is it presumptuous to ask Sylvia for a reference?”
I tapped my nails and waited for Heidi’s response.

“Yes! Impress her! Ask! She has all the connections you could want in that industry. Ask! Ask! Ask!”

I typed up a formal request for her referral, read it twice, and deleted it.

“I tried. I can’t do it. I sound stupid.”

“Do it.”

I tried again, only to repeat the process. Sweat. Type. Chew nails. Delete.

Sylvia’s door opened.

I shut my e-mail and feigned casual.

Sylvia saw Mr. Montgomery to his Lexus and returned to my desk. Her slate gray dress accentuated her long neck and pinched her waist. We were roughly the same height, but she always looked willowy and graceful, while I looked like a telephone pole in cutoffs. “Why did you say you would get an apartment in town?”

I swiveled in my seat to look at her directly. “I’m eighteen now, and Mark and I aren’t great at living together.”

“What about photography school? With proper training, you can have a very nice life doing exactly what you love. Have you given up so easily?”

“No.” I’d gone over this with her already and didn’t feel like doing it again. “I have to wait until winter semester to apply now. I missed the application deadlines.”

“Maybe. Have you given any thought to the type of photographer you’d like to be?”

“I’ve thought a lot about photo journalism.” I could see the world, taking pictures from a distance. My specialty.

Something tugged in my gut. It wasn’t the most glamorous or high-paying career, but … “I think I’d also like event photography.”

She tapped her nose. “You’d be terrific at that. Look.” She pointed to the open files on my screen.

I gave them another look.

“You always find small bits of peace in the chaos. Families sharing funnel cakes and couples on the Ferris wheel.”

Everything around my subjects blurred into a dizzying array of background color. The moment belonged to the subjects. My chest warmed. “Families interest me.”

“You have one of the most interesting families I know.”

“Interesting” wasn’t the word I’d choose to describe my situation, but it was very diplomatic of her.

“How’s the list going?”

I waved to the cluttered screen. “I’m chasing my dream.”

“Excellent. Have you chosen a photo for the gala?”

I imagined banging my head against the glass-covered desk. “No, but I have confirmed the linens, scheduled a cocktail service, and placed calls to local schools about music. There’s a violinist in our FFA or we can hire a harpist from community college.”

She dropped her lids shut. “Go with the kid violinist. I’ll bring backup music and a speaker dock to cover breaks.”

My thoughts circled back to the rich man with the embossed satchel. “Who is Mr. Montgomery?”

“An old friend. I went to college with him and his wife, Anna. They’ve both been incredibly successful. Anna runs a gallery in Manhattan. Roger teaches composition and structure at NYFA.” Her lips twitched. “They’re attending the gala.”