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It winds slowly toward the parking lot and then takes a sharp left and a right before stopping in James’ parking spot. He could see me from where he is, though thanks to the tinted windows, I have no way of knowing if he’s looking or not. Either way, I jump at the opportunity.
“I’m taking my break!” I shout to the cooks inside the cabana, though they’re too busy watching a soccer game to do much more than grunt in response.
By the time I make it out of the pool gate and down the path toward the parking lot, James is getting out of his car and glancing my way. Fortunately, there’s no one with him. If Lacy had slid out of the passenger side, I’m not sure I would have had the courage to approach him. Even still, it’s hard to continue considering James doesn’t seem all that enthused to see me walking toward him. At least he doesn’t turn and walk away as I approach. He toys with his keys as I come to a stop a few feet away from him.
“Hey, do you have a second to talk?” I ask, hopeful.
He nods toward the main clubhouse. “I have a lunch meeting in a few minutes.”
I wring out my hands in front of me and nod. “Right, yeah. Okay, I just really think you and I need to clear the air after what happened in Vegas.” I look down at my feet. “I don’t want to leave things…the way they are.”
“I appreciate it.” I look back up in time to see him cross his arms and glance away, thoughtfully staring off into the distance for a moment before he turns back to me. His features hardened in those few moments, and now he appears every bit the cavalier businessman I used to assume he was. “But I don’t think it’s necessary. I was 25 once. I understand where you’re coming from. Maybe I pushed too hard, or maybe it never would have worked. Either way, you don’t need me chasing after you to figure things out. If my experience counts for anything, you just need time.”
I didn’t expect him to be so diplomatic about the whole thing. The way he speaks, I can tell he’s thought long and hard about saying exactly this, but there’s no conviction behind his words at all.
“I still want to apologize.”
He shrugs. “Consider it done.”
His words are infused with arrogance I don’t recognize, and though I should walk away and finish what I started, I can’t help but fire back.
“So Lacy is probably a nice change of pace right? I’ve heard y’all are on the, quote, fast track to marriage?”
His eyes narrow. “If we are, you should be happy for me.”
I look away, angry that he didn’t outright deny it. “That didn’t take long. Weren’t we in Vegas just a few weeks ago?”
“A lot has happened since then.”
I think of Spain and the job I’ve accepted; obviously he’s somehow heard about it through the grapevine. “I guess you’re right.” I step back toward the cabana. “I’ll see you, James.”
I’m more angry with the situation now than I was before. I wanted to apologize and then tuck James into a clean little box, but he isn’t making it that easy. Now, I have two weeks left until I move to Spain, and I still feel like he and I have unfinished business—starting with the bike he gifted me.
I plan to return it later that night because I can’t stand the idea of hanging on to it any longer. Sure, public transportation will take longer to get around on, but I’d rather sit on a thousand urine-soaked bus seats than spend one more minute on that sunflower-yellow reminder. I wonder if he’s purchased anything to consummate his relationship with Lacy yet. Maybe he’s gotten her a bike as well and had a local artist paint it shit brown to match her soul.
After a lonely dinner back at the co-op, I pedal as hard as I can toward Mount Bonnell Road, sticky with sweat by the time I pull up in front of his neighborhood’s private gate. I forgot about this part. I don’t know the code, and I’m not about to call James and ask for it. Part of me wants to just sling the bike up and over the gate and let him deal with the aftermath, but I won’t. Instead, I lurk in the bushes like a creepo until a car pulls up and the heavy iron bars swing open. I wait a few seconds so they can pass and turn down a side street and then I race through the gate before it squashes me like a bug.
I have a hard time finding James’ house once I’m inside the neighborhood. It didn’t seem all that complicated the last time I was here, but then again, I was frazzled from our crash and didn’t really pay much attention. I do find it eventually, but not until I’m coated in a new, second layer of sweat and more annoyed than ever. I want to drop the bike at the curb and bolt, but better judgment warns me against it. So, I take a deep breath and head for the front entrance of his property. Fortunately, the pedestrian gate is unlocked, and I start to walk up his front path. His Porsche is in the driveway and there are lights on inside, but I don’t see any movement behind the floor-to-ceiling windows along the front of the house. I pick up the pace and hustle, scurrying up before he walks by and sees me in all my sweaty glory.
