Practice Makes Perfect
Page 78

“I told him that we had sex on top of my desk one night after everyone left.”
Payton blinked. “Why? Why would you do that?”
J.D. hated that he was the one who put that hurt expression on her face. He tried to look away from her, but she was having none of that. She stormed over, confronting him. “You know what gossip like that can do to a person’s reputation—particularly a woman’s reputation,” she hissed. “Why would you say something like that to Ben? To help you get ahead? Look at me, J.D. Tell me.”
When J.D. peered down at her, he saw all the familiar anger and distrust in her eyes once again. He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, Payton. Maybe I am the ass**le you always thought I was after all.”
It was a cop-out, he knew. But the alterative was the truth, and the truth—at least with the way she was looking at him right then—did not appear to be the most viable option.
Payton stared at him with an expression of disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Is there really anything I could say that would make a difference?” J.D. was pretty certain he already knew the answer to that.
And here he’d thought her eyes couldn’t get any colder.
As Payton backed away from him, her gaze was absolutely icy. “I guess we’ll never know,” she said in a flat, emotionless tone.
Then she turned and walked away.
Twenty-six
“WHY THE HELL don’t you have your cell phone turned on?”
Outside Wrigley Field, J.D. stormed over to the will-call booth where Tyler waited, too angry to bother with a greeting.
Tyler didn’t appear to notice the frustration in J.D.’s voice. He pulled out his phone and looked at it matter-of-factly.
“Would you look at that—the battery’s dead. I must’ve forgot to charge it. Oh, well.”
J.D. could’ve strangled him. Three weeks ago, Tyler had suggested they catch a game the night before the partnership decision, as a distraction. At the time it had seemed like a great idea. But now, after everything that had just happened with Payton, baseball was the last thing on his mind.
“ ‘Oh, well?’ ” he said. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour.”
“Sorry.” Tyler cocked his head. “What’d you want?”
“To tell you that I wasn’t going to make it tonight.”
“You came here to tell me you’re not coming?” Tyler asked.
“Yes,” J.D. said, exasperated.
“But if you’re not coming . . . then how are you here? Wait—is this a time-travel kind of thing? If so, you’ve got to tell me how that works, because I would really love to go back to Saturday night and tell myself not to bring home Ms. Looney Tunes, because that girl has—”
“Screw this.” J.D. whirled around, cutting Tyler off. “I should’ve let you sit out here all night waiting.” He began walking back to his car. Normally, he could take all the shit Tyler wanted to dish out. But not tonight.
“Hey, J.D.—come on,” Tyler said, following him. “I’m just messing with you. Hold up a second.”
J.D. slowed down, then finally turned around.
Tyler saw the look on his face. “What happened?”
J.D. looked up at the sky, shaking his head. He still couldn’t believe it himself.
Seeing his reaction, Tyler took a guess. “The firm. They told you their decision,” he said in a somber tone.
J.D. laughed bitterly. “I wish that was it.” He was struck by his choice of words. That was quite a statement to make.
Tyler seemed less surprised. He stepped over and put his hand on J.D.’s shoulder. “So, then. Do you want to tell me what happened with Payton?”
J.D. didn’t know where to start. He ran his hand through his hair. “I . . . wow, I totally f**ked it up.”
Tyler nodded. “I’ll tell you what—we’re both here, and I’ve already got the tickets. Let’s go inside, have a beer, and you can tell me everything.”
J.D. knew that Tyler had sprung for club box seats, just five rows back from the dugout, and felt bad letting his friend’s money go to waste. Plus, the part about the beer didn’t sound like a bad idea. He was going to need something alcoholic—probably several somethings alcoholic, in fact—just to get through this conversation.
“Okay,” he agreed. He followed Tyler inside the stadium.
STAYING TURNED OUT to be a surprisingly good idea.
It was easier for J.D. to talk while pretending to keep an eye on the game. Discussing his emotions wasn’t exactly something that came naturally for him, and the game gave him the opportunity to look away from Tyler during certain key parts of the conversation.
He told his friend about the weekend in Palm Beach, about Paytons’s hesitations concerning the partnership decision, and what she had said to him in the parking garage just a couple of hours ago.
Which then brought him to the conversation Payton had overheard between him and Ben, and more important, to the lie he had told Ben several years ago.
It was here that J.D. stopped. As much as he might’ve wanted to gloss over that particular part of the story, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
Tyler, who had been relatively quiet up until this point, ran his hand over his mouth, and then exhaled loudly. “J.D. . . . that’s pretty bad.”
“I know.”