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Which was not to say that making that grump smile was a little victory. Based on everything I’d seen from him, getting him to crack a smile was as difficult as walking in heels after a night of tequila shots. You’d have been lucky getting a smile out of a concrete statue.
But I didn’t want to give myself too much credit — I very well could have just imagined that smile. But even something that looked like a smile was a step in the right direction.
We watched the angry couple get in their separate cars and drive off in opposite directions.
“It’s hard to imagine they ever loved each other,” I said.
“People think love and hate are opposites,” Wesley said. “They’re not. If someone hates you, it means they care.”
I scoffed. “Pretty shitty way to show you care.” But I knew what he meant. The reason that his potential smile meant so much to me was that he was so indifferent most of the time. Almost zombie-like in a way. I’d take getting a rise out of him over his perpetual neutral expression any day of the week.
“It’s a sign of vulnerability,” Wesley said, “showing kindness to someone. They’ve both been hurt by the other and don’t want to look weak. Someone like Marty thinks anger and obstinance make him look strong. Anyone with half a brain can see right through it.”
“He’s got absolutely no confidence in himself,” I said. “He’s overcompensating.”
Wesley didn’t respond. He packed his papers up into his briefcase.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go back to the office.”
I secured the house and returned the key to its lock box, then jumped into his car.
“So, you think Marty’s the problem?” I asked him as he pulled away.
He nodded. “That man is impulsive. There wasn’t anything wrong with the wallpaper, but he had to prove a point. He refused to back down and stuck around during the open house. He’s his own worst enemy.”
“Rebecca refused to leave at first, too,” I noted.
“That’s true,” Wesley said. “The reason they got together is the same reason that they hate each other now: they’re very similar people.”
It was weird hearing him talk like this. Around the office, the conversation with him seldom drifted too far from the weather. Of course, we talked about our properties, but this was more personal. He was talking about our clients. And he wasn’t saying very nice things.
At the same time, I wasn’t sure I agreed.
“I get the idea that every single decision about that house was made by Rebecca,” I told him.
“I agree.”
“And now that they’re calling the marriage off, he’s trying to take back some control.”
“Sure,” Wesley said, “but… oh, I shouldn’t say it.”
I leaned forward towards him. He was focused on the road. With the sun setting out the driver’s side window, it gave his skin a soft glow and I could see his five o’clock shadow. It was sexy. He was sexy. I hated him for being so sexy. If he was an ugly old boss who was mad at the world, he’d be easier to deal with. Instead, he confused my brain. Half of me wanted to hate him even as the other half was drawn to him.
Like right now, he was so insistent on following rules that he wouldn’t even tell me what he was thinking. Who could deal with a man who put up a wall like that? Right after he hinted, he was about to say something interesting.
“We’re not in the office,” I told him. “You won’t get in trouble.”
“This is a work activity,” he said. “It still counts even if we’re not technically in the office.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “Your car can be our phantom zone.”
He pulled up to the light on Calabasas Road and looked over at me. “Our what?”
“Whatever gets said in the car doesn’t count. It didn’t happen. Just speak freely. You can say ‘fuck’ or ‘balls’ or ‘tits’ or whatever and I won’t tell a soul. Because you never actually said it. You know what I mean?”
“You want me to speak my mind?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I hate that we put up this distance between our true selves and everyone else in the world. It’s lonely as hell never being able to be yourself. Isn’t it?”
