Off Limits Page 8

  Tyler balls his hand into a fist on the table, his eyes narrowed. “I hate that dipshit.”

  Excellent. Perfect time to hash this out. Thank you, Tyler. I will kill you when we get home, along with Gen.

  “You’re not getting back together with him, Cali,” Tyler declares.

  I let out a long-suffering sigh and look to the ceiling. “Genevieve, whatever happened to best friend confidentiality?”

  Gen covers her mouth, grimacing. “I’m so sorry, Cali,” she mumbles through her fingers. She drops her hands helplessly. “I thought he knew.”

  Jaeger looks off into the distance, his mouth tense. I never told him I had a boyfriend. Why didn’t I tell him? A million logical reasons kept me from mentioning it before, but nothing comes to mind now. I feel like I’ve betrayed him, and that’s the last thing I want to do. I know firsthand how it feels.

  Jesus. I’m no better than Eric. If Jaeger and I are friends, which we are, my relationship status should have come up. Now it’s too late.

  Jaeger stands and busses the last dishes from the table. He offers more wine to everyone, his gaze barely touching me.

  Tyler, Gen, and I leave shortly after the last drop of wine disappears, and I want to throw myself into the lake. Getting dumped by Eric was humiliating, sad, and enlightening in a painful, growing-up sort of way. Our relationship was shallow. I realize that now.

  But tonight—the betrayal on Jaeger’s face? I’m devastated.

  What have I done?

  Chapter Eleven

  The casino is packed tonight. So packed, I’m having a hard time keeping track of employee relations. And dammit, I need the distraction of Casino Real World to keep my mind off my personal drama.

  The waitress and her cashier lover have called it quits, considering the glacial looks she’s casting him, but the two cocktail waitresses, who caress each other at every opportunity when they think no one’s looking, are going strong.

  Personally, I don’t understand it. Not the gay part—who cares about that? But why the heck would you feel up your lover in front of the black surveillance half-moons covering nearly every inch of the casino ceiling? At least the cashier and the waitress were discreet about their relationship. The other two tongued each other in front of the lounge bartender tonight. I could have done without that visual.

  The casino’s primary focus is money, and making certain it doesn’t flow out faster than it flows in, but you’ve gotta be stupid to think the execs aren’t watching the employees. And call me prudish, but I sort of think foreplay on the job is inappropriate.

  It’s almost the end of my shift and the casino has slowed to a smooth wave of customers. A group of college-aged guys slips past my table—and one of them is familiar.

  He stops in the middle of the aisle and his friends follow his gaze to the lounge where Gen works. They slap him on the back and walk off, while the guy saunters up the steps to Gen’s lounge.

  No. No, no, no. Not the A-hole. I glance around frantically, searching for someone, anyone to help. I just took a break and can’t leave my table for another hour, unless I feign illness, which I’m strongly considering.

  Gen and Mason haven’t been as friendly since the party, but I don’t sense animosity from him. At least, I hope his pride isn’t too bruised he wouldn’t help Gen out. But he’s slammed with customers, and flipping liquor bottles like a circus performer. My gaze catches on one of his customers, because the guy literally stands out from the rest. I can’t see his face, but I’d know him from any angle. That’s how aware I am of Jaeger.

  Jaeger glances up as if he senses me and nods, the gesture stiff. Before he turns away, I wave him over. His brow quirks sardonically, an uncharacteristically brassy response, but he grabs his drink and saunters toward my table.

  I shuffle three new decks and one of my customers leaves. Sometimes they do that, as if the new cards will break their streak.

  Jaeger’s standing to my left. Even if I couldn’t see him from the corner of my eye, I’d know he was there. The air shifts when he’s around.

  “I need a favor,” I say. I glance at the lounge. Gen’s ex has her cornered and she doesn’t look happy. “Will you go up to Gen and pretend you’re her boyfriend? Be obvious about it so she knows you’re there to help.”

  “You want me to be Gen’s boyfriend.” Jaeger’s tone is low, laced with warning.

  I glance up, startled. What? No! “I can’t explain it right now,” I say. “That guy she’s with is a creep. I’d rescue her if I could, but as you can see”—I sweep my hand in front of my customers—“I’m a little busy.”

  Jaeger stares at me, his masculine fingers dwarfing the cup in his hand, the tips white as if he’s a second away from breaking the glass. “What do you suggest?”

  I deal out a new hand. “I don’t know… just… ah—” It’s not easy to multitask with my best friend’s traumatic encounter unfolding.

  “Grab her ass,” my balding customer in dark sunglasses says. He sniggers. “He’ll get the message.” His skin is shiny with sweat, the ice-cold air conditioning no match for his girth.

  I glare at him and glance back at Jaeger. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Just treat her like you would a girl you’re dating.”

  “Give her a sweet kiss,” chimes the elderly woman in high-waisted grandma jeans and a bright orange cardigan.

  Holy hell, these people are killing me!

  Jaeger slams back his drink and thumps it so hard on the felt I wince. Mouth compressed, he spins and strides toward Gen.

  Heat rushes up my neck. Shit. He won’t… he wouldn’t…

  Jaeger closes in on Gen and her ex-boyfriend. Relief flashes across her eyes, swiftly replaced by uncertainty. Without breaking stride, Jaeger wraps his arms around her waist from behind, leans down, and tucks his face against her neck.

  I inhale sharply, feeling a stab of jealousy so intense I can’t breathe. My eyes burn and my palms tingle where they’re clenched. He’s doing this because I asked him to—and it hurts like nothing before.

  I was right. Losing Eric was nothing compared to what it would be like to lose Jaeger. This is fire and rage and sheer misery, and I want it to stop.

  Gen’s ex steps back, gaping. He shifts his feet and seems to be saying something to Gen, but she’s not paying attention. Her head’s tilted back with a smile as Jaeger nuzzles her neck, whispering something into her ear. She nods.

  Son of a bitch!

  “Oh, that’ll convince the boy she’s taken,” says the woman with the orange cardi. “Good for him!” She smacks the table, rattling the chips.

  “Hey—” I snap my fingers at both my customers. “Pay attention, people!” I glare at Mr. Sweaty Sunglasses. “Hit or stay?”

  What is wrong with me? I just asked the guy I’m infatuated with, who’s still mad I didn’t tell him I had a boyfriend, to feel up my best friend? It wouldn’t be Gen’s fault if she fell in love with him. Given the right timing, I would.

  I’m a blind dumbass.

  The A-hole flings his hand in the air as if he’s done with Gen and stomps out of the lounge, his face contorted and flushed. I’m seconds from clawing my way over the blackjack table to break up Gen and Jaeger—players, pit boss be damned—when Jaeger looks directly over. His mouth curves into a subtle smirk.

  He knows what this is doing to me, damn him.

  Jaeger loosens his hold on Gen and takes a step back.

  She looks stunned and happily flustered.

  Please don’t let her want him, or my life is about to be miserable.

  Hours later—after the A-hole incident—I’m in the employee basement, waiting at a cafeteria table for Gen to meet me for dinner break. I have another ten minutes before I have to return for my last hour on the floor, and I’m desperate to find out what happened between her and Jaeger. I got the disturbing gist from my vantage at the blackjack table, but I want—no, need—to know the details, and how Gen feels about him after he rushed in to rescue h
er.

  Gen enters the cafeteria and crosses the room with a smile on her face. At least the encounter with the A-hole doesn’t seem to have had any lasting ill effects. That’s something.

  She points to the doodle I’ve been absently working on while I wait. It vaguely resembles the mountain landscape etched into the front door of Jaeger’s parents’ house, only my doodle is made of shapes rather than lines.

  “That’s really good.” She looks closer. “Is that entire tree made up of”—she cocks her head—“triangles?”

  “And squares and trapezoids. So what happened with the A-hole? I saw him swoop in, but I couldn’t get away.”

  “Oh, God! How does he know I work here? We stopped dating before I decided to come to Tahoe. Weird.” She shakes her head. “Can you believe he wanted to see what I was doing after work? As if I’d meet up with him. Is he on something?”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I was busy, which isn’t true. Jaeger walked up before he could pester me about it.” Neither of us are very good liars, so I understand her worry. Gen smiles. “Jaeger was so sweet, Cali.”

  I clear my throat. “So what did Jaeger do?”

  A devious edge morphs her dreamy expression. “Put the A-hole in his place. Nothing says I’m not interested more than I’ve moved on with a smoking hot guy.” She leans back in her chair, satisfied. “It was a beautiful moment.”

  I’m sensing bloodlust from my gentle best friend, and I’m not sure whether to be proud or fearful. “Yeah, I caught the tail end of that. The A-hole looked pretty pissed.”

  She huffs out a breath. “You know what’s funny? I don’t even care, as long as he stays away.”

  “I think it’s a safe bet he will.” I fill in the mountains on my napkin with quadrilaterals, determining how best to go about asking my next question. “What exactly did Jaeger say? I saw him whisper in your ear.”

  Her eyes squint and then soften. “Nothing, he just asked me to help him with something tomorrow.” She reaches across the table and steals a fry.

  I stop breathing and my hand stills on my sketch. He wants to see her? Like, spend time with her?

  I bite the inside of my lip until a coppery, metallic flavor runs over my tongue.

  Her eyes flicker to my napkin and she lifts her chin. “Hey, if you’re going to throw that one away like you do your other drawings when I’m not looking, I want it.”

  Gen always asks for my doodles. I’ve never understood why.

  I draw in the last shapes on my mountain—every square inch of the napkin is covered in geometric shapes depicting the lake—but all I think is it’s done. Gen and Jaeger are going on a date tomorrow. That’s the end of any us.

  It’s my own stupid fault. I hesitated, fearful of ruining things with Jaeger if I acted too soon after my breakup. And then, like an idiot, I pushed Jaeger on Gen. I’d only wanted to help my friend out with her ex, but what was I thinking? It was my plan in the beginning to set Gen and Jaeger up, but the more I thought about it, the less I liked the idea. I was finally sure at Jaeger’s parents’ house that the attraction between us was genuine. Now, what if all Jaeger and I can ever be is friends?

  Men think they’re exclusive with their man-codes, but women have rules too. Even if Jaeger and Gen don’t work out, dating your best friend’s ex is forbidden.

  My stomach lurches under the fries I just ate. I pass Gen the napkin and stand. “I’d better get back.”

  “Hey, is everything okay? You don’t look well.”

  I smile reassuringly. I may not be the most altruistic human being on the planet, but I’m devoted to the people I love. My goal was to see Gen happy this summer and set her up with a nice guy. She seems happy, and Jaeger is a nice guy.

  I got what I asked for.

  And isn’t that a bitch.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’m on the patio in my bikini top and pajama shorts, doodling. It’s all I can do to defuse thoughts of Gen and Jaeger’s date today. I woke up early, irritable and out of sorts, and found a plain notepad in a drawer in the kitchen. My drawing this morning is larger and more elaborate than my usual, depicting the casino in all its glory. There’s a line of slots and a waitress flagrantly leaning over her customer, sugaring him up with a drink and a smile, and eyeing his pot of coins. A busboy wipes a table behind the waitress, snatching a twenty from her cash caddy. In the background, a man in a suit preys on a pretty waitress while sipping a drink in the lounge.

  The scene is my rendition of the casino subculture—what I’ve been calling Casino Real World. Security guards the house’s money, but not the people within. The powerful prey on the weak or clueless, and everyone’s out for themselves.

  The sound of pipes rumbling from below the house erupts as I finish my sketch. Gen’s finally up and in the shower. She said on our way home last night that she and Jaeger were going out around lunchtime, and it’s already eleven thirty.

  Not two minutes after the pipes begin their noisy caterwauling, the doorbell rings. “Gen! Door!” I yell.

  The last thing I want is to see Gen leaving with Jaeger. If they want to date and make babies, fine, but I don’t need to be a witness.

  The doorbell rings again, followed by a couple of firm knocks. I lean back and pull the screen door open. The water’s still whining through the pipes.

  Shit. I hobble off my lounge chair and walk to the front. Jaeger’s silver truck is visible through the living room window. I take a deep breath and calmly open the door, plastering on a bland expression.

  Jaeger’s wearing a red baseball cap and a navy T-shirt, his shoulder muscles bulging from the way he hunches to get his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans.

  I swallow hard. Why does he have to look so good? The aftershave he wears mixed with fabric softener and something unique to him wafts toward me, and I want to tongue his neck. Damn him. I take a step back. Everything about this situation is just cruel.

  He leans on the doorjamb, eyes blatantly running the length of me before resting on the pad in my hand.

  “Come in.” My tone is terse, but whatever. I’m doing my best here. I toss the pad on the couch and walk to the bathroom door. The shower is finally off. “Gen! Jaeger’s here.”

  When I turn around, Jaeger is staring at my sketch. I sweep over and pick it up, tucking it under my arm.

  He looks me dead in the eye as if this, too, I’ve kept from him. “Nice drawing.”

  “It’s nothing. Doodles. So”—I’d better say it before I’m too angry to—“I wanted to thank you for helping out last night. Gen’s ex is a jerk. I didn’t want him bothering her.” I pause for a second, deciding how much of my feelings to reveal. “You were very convincing.”

  Jaeger’s eyes narrow and he scans my face.

  I duck my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. I shouldn’t have said that. I slide the pad facedown on the kitchen counter and shift loose papers around while we wait for Gen.

  I always answer the door in my bikini top and it’s never bothered me before, but it does today. I should have put on a shirt, I think, adjusting the strings along my ribs. When I look up, Jaeger’s gaze is following the trail of my fingers. He quickly looks away.

  This is awkward. “Want something to drink?”

  He shakes his head and sinks onto the couch. Gen walks out of the bathroom in shorts and a T-shirt. She hurries into the bedroom, her wet hair dampening the back of her top. “Be ready in a minute,” she says, smiling prettily at Jaeger as she passes.

  A few seconds of uncomfortable silence later, Gen pops back into the living room, hopping on one foot and fastening her flats, a small purse dangling across her chest. “Ready. Sorry to make you wait.”

  Jaeger rises and moves to the door, opening it for her. He follows her out. “See you later, Cali.”

  This is it. The defining moment when Jaeger goes from being an available guy to off-limits forever.

  “Goodbye,” I say, but they’ve already left.
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  Instead of staring at the front door, waiting for Gen to return in order to interrogate her about her date with the guy I have a crush on, I check email. Two messages have arrived from Harvard Law, one with information on orientation, the other on financial aid.

  It almost makes me angry how much the program will cost. I’ve considered deferring for a year, though that’s seems more painful. Like dragging out the inevitable. I never considered the money until this summer, working full-time for the first time in my life. The tuition isn’t a problem for the trust fund kids, but it is for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have ruled out the less expensive programs. But that doesn’t feel right either.

  Law school is everything I’ve worked for, but lately it feels like someone else’s dream. The cost to attend would probably seem worth it if the program were something I felt passionate about. My mom used to joke about Tyler and me becoming lawyers and doctors, but really, she didn’t care what we became, as long as we made something of our lives. Tyler was the science geek, while I latched on to the idea of arguing for a living. That was a good enough reason ten years ago. Now, with a future in law staring me in the eye, I’m having second—and third—and fourth—thoughts.

  I’m so confused and emotionally wrung out I don’t know which way is up. I shut off the computer, change my clothes, and grab the keys to Gen’s car. It won’t help my mood to be here when they return.

  I search the fridge and jot down a list of groceries we need. Before I head to the store, I stop by the bank to deposit my tips, which consist of a hell of a lot of singles. Most of my tips come in the form of chips, but there are purists who give cash. According to the bank teller, I’m either working at the casinos or I’m a stripper. I’m keeping her guessing.

  A farmers’ market is going on in the bank lot, so I park across the street. As I exit my car, a man in crew sandals, beige shorts, and sunglasses exits a motel nearby with a woman I recognize from the casino. She’s the sweet waitress who was crushing on the cashier.