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“Wait, Rodney Jergeson? Wasn’t he married?” I find myself asking, even though I already know the answer. I recall word hitting the streets, even all the way out in California. Rodney had been at WKN since he was in his early twenties, working his way up to CEO. He had married his high school sweetheart, and the world went nuts when his affair with a much younger woman came out. His wife left him and got half of everything, including their three houses and a boat.
“Oh, her,” Ellen replies, waving her hand dismissively. “It was practically over before I met him.”
Right.
“Anyway, I quit my intern position because everyone was accusing me of sleeping with the boss to get a better job,” she goes on to say, but doesn’t actually deny it. “But then Rodney started to get on me about spending money and the trips I was taking. I divorced him a year later.”
I just stare at the other woman at the table. So, she quits her intern job to stay at home and spend his money, and then gets upset when he starts to push back about all of her spending?
“Anyway, I got half of his half in the divorce, considering his first gold-digging wife took so much of it.” Ellen rolls her eyes dramatically for effect.
“So, are you working anywhere now?” I ask, almost afraid to ask. Ellen had big dreams of having her own syndicated talk show by the time she was thirty. Since I only recall seeing one Ellen on the TV, and it most definitely isn’t Ellen Montgomery, I figure that dream didn’t become reality.
“Nope,” she replies, popping her P. “I don’t need to,” she adds with a shrug before chugging her mimosa.
We’re saved from further elaboration when our food arrives. My ham and cheese omelet is still steaming, scalding the roof of my mouth with my first bite, but I don’t care. I’m determined to get through this breakfast as fast as possible and away from Ellen and Danny. Rueben glances over, his eyebrows pulled together as he watches me shovel my food into my mouth. As if the lightbulb goes off, he grins and takes a big bite of his own food.
Throughout breakfast, I make occasional conversational noises, but for the most part, I drown him out. Danny is talking—again—about his career in LA. I hear things like ratings galore, charity ball, and Paris Hilton, but I tune the rest out. I don’t really care that everything worked out exactly as it was supposed to. Yeah, I didn’t miss that subtle dig either. Kudos to Danny for making something of himself, blah blah blah.
Is it wrong that I can’t help but wonder who ironed his work shirts when he got to Los Angeles?
Probably some poor intern who wasn’t even being paid to take care of the manchild.
When the check arrives, Danny reaches out and grabs the bill. I made no attempt to reach the slip of paper, nor do I offer to help with the tip. Instead, I let Mr. Perfect Moneybags take care of the forty-three dollar check, plus tip. Ellen seems very comfortable allowing him to pay.
Rueben makes a grab for his wallet, but I glare at him. “What?” he whispers, pulling a ten from the confines.
“He can pay. He owes me. And probably you too. Did he reimburse you at all for driving his crap all the way across the country ten years ago?” I whisper harshly.
The sober look on his face is my answer. The bastard didn’t even pay for his friend’s gas, nor probably his lodging during that time. What a cheap asshole.
Rueben still throws the ten on the table for the server and stands. He helps pull my chair out, his hand resting on my lower back as I stand beside him.
“Well, this was fun, but we really should be going,” I say, even though fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe breakfast.
“Aren’t we going to the same place? We’ll share a cab,” Danny says as he heads toward the exit.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m sure you and Ellen want to enjoy the trip alone,” I insist, but he’s not having it.
“Nonsense. I’d love to catch up with you all more,” he says, taking Ellen’s hand and guiding her to the front entrance of our hotel.
“Seriously?” I ask, glancing up, as if asking my question to God himself.
Rueben snorts. “Well, it could be worse.”
I glance up at the handsome man beside me. “Really?”
“Sure. He could have stuck you with the bill,” he says with a smile before leading me outside to wait for our taxi.
Chapter Eight
Rueben
The stadium is packed by the time we arrive. Tailgaters are everywhere, wearing their maroon and white SIU Salukis fan gear and proudly screaming their excitement for today’s big game. A welcome banner hangs from a portion of brick exterior on the new Saluki Stadium, right beside the school fight song. This is my first time visiting the new stadium, which opened the season after our senior year. It’s a little surreal being back here, to the place I spent so many Saturdays for a handful of years. It’s not, however, the first time I’ve been here with Cricket. Actually, we attended most football games together the second half of school. I wasn’t a huge fan of the game, but I always came to support Danny.
The difference is today is actually the first time I’ve ever held her hand here.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really excited to see the new stadium,” Cricket says as we approach the entrance.
