Parking Lot Desperation: Table of Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 
Chapter 8 
Chapter 9 
Chapter 10 
Chapter 11
Chapter 12 
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18 NEW (03/25/2015)

PLD Chapter 1

New story that's been floating around in my head for a few days. I hope you all like it. 

Either way, let me know what y'all think? :) 

Chapter 1

Keeley sat in her car outside the coffee shop ready to bang her head against the steering wheel. She knew this meeting wasn’t going to go any better than the last—especially when Brent had emailed her and suggested that they meet for coffee before discussing their affairs. He was going to bring his significant other and he’d invited Keeley to do the same.

As if.

She was ready for the damn house to sell already so that she’d never have to see Brent Heatherton again.

PLD Chapter 2

Thirty minutes later Keeley was pulling into the carport of her little house. She’d only lived in the two-bedroom, one bathroom little yellow cottage for a little over a year, but already it was her haven. She’d taken it and made it her own, replacing the hideous macramé hanging everywhere with canvas paintings and a pictures. When she’d bought the cottage a year ago from a friend her grandmother went to church with, all the rooms had been white; they’d looked sterile and she’d been afraid to even walk inside, lest she dirty something up. After a month, she’d thought she was going to go insane from the starkness. So she’d made a trip to the hardware store where she’d decided she’d repaint the place using beachy pastels: living room was a taupe color, the bedrooms were blue and mauve, and the kitchen was mint green. Keeley loved colored walls, it changed the whole ambiance of the house. She’d also ripped the pea green carpet by mistake one day while cleaning and had discovered beautiful hardwood underneath—needless to say, the awful carpet was ripped up super quick after that.

And the best part—she had done all the work by herself.

She kicked her heels off in the doorway and threw her keys on the kitchen counter, heading for the coffee pot. Halfway through making a fresh pot, she decided she needed something a little stronger after the disastrous and embarrassing afternoon she’d just had and broke out the wine instead. A bottle of Contino Reserva 1990, a cedar and cinnamon-esque Rioja; it had been a divorce gift from Jan. She smiled fondly as she remembered the day her best friend had brought it and another bottle over, along with a cheese platter the day her divorce had been final and they’d walked a block to the beach, sipping on their wine (and polishing off a bottle) until the sun went down. Jan had hated Brent, so they’d had a good ex-husband bashing and a hell of a hangover the next day.

Keeley slid a pizza in the oven before grabbing her wallet and heading into the living room. She had a fleeting moment of panic when she couldn’t find Clay’s business card. Just as she was starting to full-out panic, she found it. Whitlow & Sons, Architectural Firm was written in black block lettering and slightly raised. Underneath were three names, Phillip, Mark, and Clay, and their respective numbers and emails.

What type of work did they do? she wondered. It seemed to her that two working legs were need to do anything with construction and construction sites and she was just going to assume Clay didn’t have those, what with the wheelchair and all. Not that it hindered his good looks, she thought wryly. But what did she know about architecture and construction sites and stuff—absolutely nothing. She dug in the dirt looking for broken shards of pottery from indigenous people, so it wasn’t like she was the foremost expert, although, her house had certainly been a wreck when she’d been working on it.

She threw the business card aside as the kitchen phone and oven started beeping and ringing simultaneously. She ran quickly to grab it before the answering machine picked up. “Hello?” she answered pleasantly.

“Hey, hey,” her heart might have sank a little bit when it was her father’s voice on the other line and not Clay’s. Or, maybe that was just hunger pains she was feeling or something. She quickly turned the oven off as her dad continued. “So, how was the meeting?”

“Eh. We’ve actually made the decision to put it on the market so that’s good. Brent said he’ll call me as soon as we have a potential buyer,” she said as she took another sip of wine. No need for her father to know of the rest of the escapades that had taken place.

“Yeah, that’s good. And, um, what about her? What’d she look like?”

“Dad,” Keeley said laughing. “Cutting right to the chase huh?”

“Oh hush, I simply wanted to hear if you thought she was anything to write home about,” her father said defensively.

“Daddy, she reminds me of Barbara Jean off Reba.”

John Burns broke into a hearty laugh on the other end of the line. “Well then, he’s gotten what he deserves huh?”

Keeley smiled. “Oh yes, that’s for sure.”

“So,” John said. Keeley knew what was coming next. “Were there any good looking men at the coffee shop?”

“Eh, there might have been one who caught my eye,” she said smiling and thinking of Clay. “And it sure as hell wasn’t Brent Heatherton, I’ll tell you that.”  

Her father gave a hearty laugh on the other end. “Good for you. Go get him!”

“Jan said the same thing,” she said as pulled the pizza out of the oven. She knew if her dad was there he’d have given her a high-five. She heard her mother yell something in the background and she sighed, knowing what was coming next.

To his credit, John sighed audibly before he started. “Your mother wants to know if you’re going to date the guy who ‘caught your eye’”.

“Good God Dad—I’ve been divorced less than a year. Tell her to give me some time, okay?”

“Well Keeley, I’m just saying—your ovaries are a ‘ticking and your father and I would like to have grandchildren someday, you know,” she heard her mother yell in the background.

Nice, Mother, pulling the grandchildren card. And that was her cue to bow out. And possibly go jump off a cliff. “I promise,” she said sighing. “Listen Daddy, me and my ovaries have got to go. Papers to grade, pizza, and an Ashton Kutcher Lifetime movie are awaiting me.”

Her dad laughed again and Keeley guessed he was probably also rolling his eyes. “Okay sweetie, I’ll talk to you soon. And just for the record? I’m fine without grandkids for the moment.”

She smiled at that. Ever since she’d been a little girl her dad had always known the right thing to say. She laughed. “Thanks Daddy. I love you too.” She heard the line click and hung the phone up. Then she threw back the last couple sips of her wine and poured another glass.

She grabbed a couple slices of pizza and some papers and headed for the couch and turned on the movie. A few hours later the credits rolled and she’d made it through an entire section’s papers. Well, now I can have passengers in my car again, she thought wryly as she stood up and stretched. My goal—for the undergraduate papers and potted bonsai in the seat to be replaced by a man’s butt.

Keeley laughed at herself as grabbed her plate and empty wine glass and placed them in the sink. She put the rest of the pizza in Tupperware container for lunch the next day. When she grabbed the papers to put in her bag, there lay the business card she’d all but forgotten about. As she looked at Clay’s name, she pictured him sitting in that truck of his, the killer lopsided smile on his face, his toned shoulders that through his tee-shirt seemed to rival Brent’s…of course, then she pictured how she must have looked when she ran up to him and the shock that surely showed on her face when he pulled the wheelchair out and that took her from feeling slightly turned on to being mortified.

Laughing at herself and at the day, she hung the card on the fridge with a magnet, deciding that was probably the safest place for it. She was sure that Jan would want to see it and that they’d probably have a pretty intense facebook creeping session next time she came over.

And who knew, maybe it’d be good to keep Clay Whitlow’s number on hand. Maybe he’d call.

Although, she thought as headed to bed, she truly doubted it.

***

An entire day and a half passed before she finally caved and googled Whitlow & Sons. The website for the firm was well-designed, but didn’t have a lot of information about Clay, just mostly about his father—The Whitlow—and the type of work they did. Boring.

So, she caved even more and had just typed in “Clay Whi” into the facebook search bar when someone started banging on her office door. “I’ll get it,” her office mate Dean said and went to the door.

“Your dress came in!” her best friend squealed as she burst through the open door like a hurricane, red-hair flying everywhere.

“Hi Jan,” Keeley said smiling. Dean shook his head irritably as Jan took the stack of books and papers sitting in a chair in front of Keeley’s desk and shoved the noisily to the floor. He grabbed his lunch and left, shutting the door behind him. Keeley laughed to herself as he left, thinking he needed to lighten up a little. “So what’s this about a dress?”

“Oh, there’s really no dress babes. I just knew that if I mentioned fashion and started being overly girly, your stuffy officemate would leave and we’d be able to chitchat about Sunday’s happenings in peace,” Jan said with a grin.

“You’re incorrigible,” Keeley replied.

Her best friend just shrugged. “So, tell me everything.”

This time it was Keeley’s turn to shrug. “I told you everything on the phone Sunday. Then I went and left a note on his windshield with my number. He caught me and—”

“Wait, he caught you?”

“Yes,” Keeley said. She rolled her eyes. “You know I have impeccable timing.”

“That you do.” Jan muttered.

“Well, he said something clever and witty and flirtatious after that, so naturally I nutted up and didn’t say a thing.”

“Naturally.”

“And that’s really all there is to it. He hasn’t called and he probably won’t. Like you said, he probably thinks I’m crazy. Hell, I think I’m crazy.”

Jan laughed and patted Keeley’s arm comfortingly. “And I see you have moved on from being crazy to creepy now. Facebook investigating are we?”

Keeley flushed red at having been caught. “Maybe.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Jan said happily. “Press on. I want to see what this Mr. Dreamy you picked up in a parking lot looks like!”

“Whitlow, it’s Mr. Whitlow actually,” Keeley corrected grinning as she typed the rest of his name in and hit enter. After scrolling down a little bit, she finally found Clay’s.

“Keeley Burns—he is dreamy! Screw your ‘no calling guys’ rule, you need to put his number on speed dial!” Jan exclaimed when Keeley clicked on the profile picture. It was headshot of him down by the waterfront in a dark green polo, which accented his eyes, sunglasses hanging from a lanyard around his neck, and a baseball cap turned backwards on his head, and he was flashing that thousand watt smile. Just looking at him made her mind turn to mush—it was a good thing he’d probably never call her because she knew she’d be screwed on a date. “Nice teeth, he should be on a toothpaste commercial.”

Keeley snorted. “Forget his teeth, look at his eyes! Aren’t they gorgeous?”

They sighed in unison as the door opened and Dean entered. Jam immediately started talking hurriedly about chiffons and tulle and silk taffeta until he gave her a scornful look and left again, shutting the door a little more forcibly than necessary.  Then she changed her tune. “So, are you going to—”

Jan stopped as Keeley’s phone rang. “Hello?” Keeley answered.

“Hi,” She heard a deep voice on the other end of the line say. Her heart fluttered a little bit. “Keeley?”

“This is she. Who is this?”

“Just a guy on his lunch break who needs a date to go grab some coffee with,” the voice said. She could practically see him grinning and trying not to laugh.

“Oh, har har,” she said, but she was smiling. Jan pointed at the computer screen and Keeley nodded. She turned the speaker phone on and sat the phone on her desk.

“Seriously though, this is me asking you out to coffee,” Clay continued. “You free?”

“No,” Keeley answered, drawing out the word and wincing as soon as it left her mouth. “Actually, I’m at school.”

“You idiot!” Jan mouthed silently as she reached across the desk and smacked Keeley in the back of the head. “He was asking you out!”

Keeley swatted her away and rubbed the sore spot on her head as Clay asked curiously, “School? I thought you were a USC alumnus? Or were you just saying that ensure I’d go into the coffee shop with you?” She imagined him with that crooked grin on his face as he asked that.

“Graduate school,” she said laughing. “I’m in graduate school. College of Charleston archaeology department. I finish class at four and hold office hours until seven.” Jan rolled her eyes and gave a threatening look. Whoops, she thought.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “Well in that case the coffee offer is no longer good.” Keeley’s stomach dropped and Jan looked like she was going to hurl something at the wall. “Now it’s got to be dinner instead.”

“Whoa!” Jan exclaimed. Keeley threw a pen in her direction, hard.

If Clay noticed that that word had been emitted from a different voice, he didn’t say anything. He merely chuckled. “Is that a yes?”

“You better say yes, you better say yes,” Jan was vehemently mouthing again.

“Yes.” Keeley squeaked out.

“Great,” he answered. She could literally hear him smiling. “Friday night? You like seafood?”

“I live on the coast, I’d be crazy if I didn’t, wouldn’t I?” she asked.

“Well, asking random guys out in parking lots is crazy too. I could’ve been an ax-murderer,” she glanced over at Jan and saw a triumphant smile on her lips. What is with people and the ax-murderer example? “So, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I think we’ve run that one into the ground,” she said with mock-seriousness that she hopped he’d be able to pick up on over the phone. She quickly changed the subject. “So, I’ll meet you at the waterfront at six-thirty then?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then Keeley,” he said in a pleasant voice.

“Yep. See you then,” she said and quickly hung up the phone.

“Good God Keeley, make the poor man spell it out for you, why don’t you? Your skills have seriously backslid in the last year,” Jan said in a scolding tone. Then she smiled and ran around to the other side of the desk and squeezed Keeley so tight, a giant squid would be jealous. “But it’s okay, because you’ve got yourself a hot date on Friday!”

Keeley smiled and slumped in her chair. She quickly said a little prayer that this meeting with Clay would go a lot more smoothly than the initial one. “And good thing too, Mom pulled the grandchildren card on me last night. Maybe this’ll satiate my parents for a while,” she said with a light laugh, trying to make out like she wasn’t really all that excited about the date, when in reality she was.  

Jan just clucked her tongue sympathetically. Then she started discussing options for what Keeley should wear on Friday night. Keeley wondered briefly if Jan would be this enthusiastic if she’d told her about the wheelchair. Something told her yes.

By nature, Keeley Burns wasn't a giddy person. She wasn’t a squealer like Jan and she didn’t cry tears of happiness at the Publix holiday commercials. But when the reality of the fact that Clay Whitlow, random pick from the parking lot, had actually called, sunk in, she couldn’t help but feel a little happy swelling in her stomach that could only be described as giddiness. She hadn’t felt this way since her divorce with Brent had been final. Of course, that could have been the bottle of wine she had drank and not true giddiness then.

Either way, giddy was the only way to describe what she felt right now. Oh, she thought as she tuned Jan out and got back to work. Friday couldn’t get here soon enough.

PLD Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Keeley quickly parked her car and sprinted to the little dive where Clay had asked her to meet him. She was running late. Thanks especially to the one and only Brent Heatherton.

He’d called as she was rummaging in the back her closet, hectically trying to find something to wear. Apparently they had a potential buyer for the house who wanted to come and look right then. And like usual, Brent’s social affairs were far more important than hers; ergo, he expected her to drop her Friday night plans to show the house.

Pfft.

And she’d told him as much. Obviously, things only went downhill from there. By the time she’d slammed the phone down (and sort of thrown it across the room) it was six o’clock and she only had thirty minutes to change and get to the waterfront.

So twenty-eight minutes later, here she was, frantically running towards something that looked like a half-sunken tanker, adamantly refusing to text Clay that she was running late. I’m going to make it on time, I am going to be on time, I am—

“Hey stranger!” She halted suddenly as a deep tenor voice that was becoming very familiar to her ears interrupted her mantra. “Are you heading inside to that restaurant there?”

Keeley turned around to see Clay about thirty feet from her, wheeling her way with a cocky grin on his face. She quickly smoothed the wrinkles out of black Bermudas and ran her fingers through her curly-ish shoulder length hair, trying to look somewhat decent and as if she hadn’t been scurrying. Then she turned to wait for Clay. “Perhaps,” she replied with a smile.

“Good,” he smiled and when he did, Keeley noticed for the first time how his deep forest-green eyes lit up. “Because I am too and I just happen to need a date.”

She laughed, wanting to play along and say something clever back, but unable to think of anything. Attractive men did that to her, made her blabber and stutter like a middle-school girl on her first date. The only man she hadn’t completely frozen up around had been a man she’d met in college named Brent Heatherton. And that had ended really well.

So, she just stood there grinning like an idiot as she surreptitiously tried to kick a pebble out of her shoe.

She waited while Clay caught up with her, admiring from afar his nice-looking upper body, and not letting her eyes travel down to the parts was really wondering about. His sun-weathered skin looked especially tan with the baby blue Polo he was sporting with jeans. Keeley appreciated a man who could pull off jeans, not many guys these days could. “Hey there.”

“Hello Mr. Whitlow,” she answered back. She grinned and gestured to the parking lot, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

Clay threw his head back in laughter, causing his shaggy hair to fall just a little bit in his eyes. “True that.”

Keeley let him lead the way and fell into step behind him as the path narrowed going towards the restaurant. It was sort of weird and awkward, towering over him and having to look down on him when they were talking. She watched his shoulders pump up and down as they walked and she could tell that he had some impressive muscles. I wonder if he ever works out?

But before her mind could go any farther and she could start to imagine a sweaty and shirtless Clay Whitlow in a gym, they reached the front step of the restaurant where there was a little step. Clay quickly popped a wheelie to get over it and grabbed the door for Keeley. She couldn’t help but notice that his legs bounced as little as he’d gone over the step; honestly, her stomach squirmed a little bit.

And that was enough to quickly snap Keeley out of her daydreaming; all the initial trepidation she’d felt when he’d first maneuvered out of the truck a week ago at the coffee shop returned. What the hell was she doing, voluntarily going on a date with a disabled guy?

Well Keels, you were attracted to him before, you think he’s hot now, so  just try to forget about the wheelchair and don’t freeze up. That’ll just make things awkward. Oh God. She hoped this wouldn’t be awkward—going on a date with a guy in a wheelchair that she’d only talked to twice.

“So,” Clay said, interrupting her thoughts again. “Ever been here?”

“Nope,” Keeley answered looking around. They were sitting in a little dining room that was essentially only a screen porch on top of a cement slab with plastic chairs and tables. It looked like it took one weekend to build, nope scratch that, Keeley thought, more like one Saturday afternoon. Before she could make a comment though, she remembered Clay was an architect. Knowing her luck, she’d say something and he would’ve been the one to have designed the place or something. “I’ve actually never heard of this place.”

Clay’s jaw dropped open in surprise. “And how long have you lived in Charleston?”

Keeley grinned sheepishly. “About five years.”

Clay shook a scolding finger at her, but he was grinning. “Well, you’re in for a treat then,” he said as he grabbed two paper menus and a couple of red sharpies off the table. He handed one menu and a pen to her. “I suggest the oysters. But the shrimp’s unbelievable too.”

When Keeley simply stared at him and didn’t make a move to start ordering, he laughed again. “Go ahead and mark what you want on the menu. Just circle it, write your name, and then I’ll go give it to Rich.” He briefly looked down and circled what he was having. Then he looked back up, “It’s a pretty laid back place.”

She smiled, despite herself, and quickly circled the fried oysters and sweet tea. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Clay grabbed their menus and pushed back from the table. She watched as he made his way across the crowded dining room, sometimes grabbing the edges of tables to propel himself, and stopping briefly to chitchat with someone at almost every single one. He’s so outgoing, to be in his…situation, she thought to herself as he made his way to the counter. When he reached it a middle-aged man came out from behind the counter and leaned down to give him a bear hug. Keeley watched as they talked animatedly for a few minutes and then Clay handed the menus off and came back towards their table.

“That was Rich,” Clay said with a fond smile. “He’s an old friend of my dad’s. Helped him fix this place up.”

Good thing you didn’t say anything about it looking rough, Keeley thought wryly to herself.

“Actually, all Dad did was tell Rich how to connect the ceiling fans properly,” Clay added, as if reading her mind. He pointed above them to one of three fans in the restaurant and laughed. “The story of the restaurant’s history is much cooler than that, no pun intended.”

Keeley chuckled. Clay had a pretty decent sense of humor. “Man, you’re on a roll tonight.”

He grinned wickedly. “Tonight? I’m always on a roll,” he said leaning back and popping a quick wheelie. Keeley immediately turned ten shades of red, mortified at her faux pas.

Clay didn’t seem to mind a bit though, if the grin on his face was evidence of anything, he actually thought it hilarious. He continued with his story. “Anyways, what happened was back after Hurricane Hugo this huge shrimp tanker named ‘Richard and Charlene’ washed up here on shore, completely destroyed.”

Clay launched into full story-telling mode, his voice changing to suit to the ambiance of the story and his eyes twinkling. Despite herself, she thought it was adorable. “The spot where it came to rest is now the location of the restaurant. Rich and his wife Amy saw the potential in it and built the restaurant, officially calling it ‘The Wreck of Richard and Charlene’. But everyone really just calls it ‘The Wreck’ now. I still can’t believe that in five years, you’ve never been here,” he said shaking his head in disbelief.

Keeley shrugged, yet again unable to come up with a viable response.

“You know, you can’t call yourself a true citizen of Charleston if you haven’t eaten at The Wreck,” he went on as their food arrived, obviously trying to get a rise out of her. “Five years you’ve been living some—”

“Well damnit, I’m not a citizen of Charleston!” she finally exclaimed, not noticing the twinkle in his eye. “So that’s my excuse.”

Clay grinned a cocky grin and leaned back in his chair. Damn, even when he was annoying her and trying to flirt like a fifth grader he was sexy. She took a deep breath and scolded herself for letting her temper flare when all he was trying to do was joke around with her. Not knowing how to take a joke was something Brent had always criticized her for; it was one of the few critiques she received from him that she actually agreed with.  “Not a citizen of Charleston?”

She looked at Clay who was still grinning across the table at her. Smiling sweetly and trying to regain some dignity she might have just lost, she went on, “I may have lived in Charleston for the past five years and South Carolina for the past ten, but my heart will always be in Georgia.”

Their food arrived then. As the waitress slid the oysters and shrimp on to the table, Clay asked “So, you’re a Georgia Peach then?”

“Born and raised,” she answered proudly.

“Hmn, I always liked peaches,” he said with a flirtatious and crooked grin.

Keeley wanted to say something clever back, but the only thing that popped into her head to say about South Carolina was “Yeah? Well, I always liked the Cocks,” and that seemed a little too suggestive. She settled with “Yeah, me too.”

Ugh. What a lame response. She should’ve gone with the Cocks one. But what if he hadn’t understood the Gamecocks reference? She laughed inwardly as she thought about how disastrous that could’ve been.

As they finished their seafood Clay continued to tell Keeley more history about the Wreck and about Charleston in general, most of which she already knew. But of course, she’d never tell him that. She’d lived in Charleston for the past five years—she’d done all the touristy stuff and was close to considering herself a local—especially now that she’d eaten at the Wreck—than a tourist anymore.

But she’d never stop him. Because honestly, Clay Whitlow was as nice to listen to as he was to look at.

They each finished up dinner with a bowl of banana pudding that Clay had proclaimed “Was just too damned good not to try,” and true to his statement, it was pretty amazing. When it came to time to leave, Clay quickly pulled out more than enough money to cover both checks. Keeley opened her mouth to protest as he did and he held up a hand. “Don’t you even suggest paying for your own supper.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I asked you out on a date, so I’m paying. You ask me out on a date and then you can pay,” he said with chuckle. “Besides, aren’t you a poor grad student?”

Keeley laughed dryly and rolled her eyes, trying to keep a nonchalant exterior although her stomach fluttered at the word “date”.

“A poor and divorced grad student. Double whamy.” On a date and you brought up the ex-husband? Girl, you’re so date retarded sometimes, she chastised herself.

“Well, I rest my case then.” And he slapped the money down.

Clay waved to the man behind the counter as they left as he rolled over the small step out front, Keeley found herself a little surprised. Back at the restaurant, during dinner, she’d almost forgotten that Clay was in a wheelchair. She had pushed it to the back recesses of her mind, getting lost in his stories and enjoying his laid-back personality which was so extremely different than Brent's.

In fact, she had completely forgotten about the wheelchair until he backed away from the table just now.

It was close to nine o’clock by now but many of the shops along the waterfront and the pier were still open, so Clay suggested they take a walk. They made their way towards the pier, bypassing most of the tourist trap shops full of families and heading towards the weathered looking fishermen instead. They talked about mundane things as they walked: weather, SEC football, and their jobs. He playfully asked her to tell him about all those –ologies she’d mentioned in the parking lot.

“Well, anthropology is essentially the study of human cultures and civilizations, if you really strip it down. And then archaeology is a subfield of anthropology. It’s basically using artifacts, such as pottery, old jewelry, sometimes even bones and burial sites to identify aspects of cultures such as social stratification and notions of power, etc,” she answered.

“So do you dig for fossils and stuff like that too?” Clay asked eagerly. She could easily imagine him digging in the dirt. He had probably been one of those little boys she'd bet. 

She nodded. “Sometimes. A lot of the time in the summer and on the weekends is spent on digs. But right now, I mainly spend my time grading atrociously written undergraduate papers and trying not to piss my weird office-mate off by scribbling my pen too loudly.”

Clay burst out laughing. “Does that really piss him off?”

Keeley grinned. “He once asked me if I could breathe a little quieter.”

Clay shook his head. “And I thought I had it bad, working with my dad and brother. They’re always stealing  my silverware out of the kitchen and playing that damn Michael Bolton guy way too loudly.”

This time it was her turn to laugh. “So that’s what it’s like to be an architect then? Listening to a man popular with forty-year old women and getting your kitchen utensils stolen?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what it’s all about,” he replied without missing a beat. Then he chuckled. “No, really it’s actually a lot of planning. Planning and working out where to get materials from, planning and making sure our blueprints are safe and practical. Practically planning out an itinerary for the workers so none of the idiots nail their hands to a board or fall off a roof,” he rolled his eyes as if remembering something that’d happened. “Then once we’re done with planning we put it into action and go at it.”

“Sounds like a lot of planning,” Keeley deadpanned as they reached the end of the pier.

“Har har,” Clay replied, grinning. “It’s great though. Dad and Mark and I all have separate accounts we’re in charge of and the big corporate accounts we split. Divide and conquer and all that.”

“Sounds neat,” Keeley said as they stood and watched the water for a few minutes in silence. “I used to want to be an architect,” she said after a while.

Clay smiled. “Really?”

She nodded and laughed, still looking out over the water churning away. “Really. I used to draw little designs and plans for whatever household project my dad was working on—be it fixing the car or simply patching a hold in the water hose. Then I’d follow him around in the backyard with a clipboard and whistle, telling him where to go and where to put stuff. He used to call me Boss Keeley.”

Clay grinned widely. “Sounds like you were quite the little architect as a kid. You should’ve majored in that instead. You probably could’ve just skipped your practicum and gone straight to practicing,” he joked.

Keeley laughed again and then again they lapsed into silence, albeit a comfortable silence. Keeley leaned over the edge of the pier counting the shrimp boats that dotted the water. Finally she looked down at Clay, resting his arms on the railing. She realized he looked just like he had on facebook and decided that this was probably where the picture had been taken.  Then she immediately felt like a creeper.  She laughed inwardly and then broke the silence, “Well, I probably should be going soon.”

He looked up at her with an expression that actually looked as if he was a little disappointed the evening was over. But then the expression disappeared, replaced by one of his signature smiles and he glanced at his watch.“But the night is still young!”

She laughed. She’d probably laughed more tonight than she had in the past month. “Yeah, but I’ve got to get up early tomorrow and show the house. I promised Brent I would at nine tomorrow since I couldn’t tonight.”

Clay nodded in understanding. “Well, you have my number now if you need to keep up the façade from last week,” he said smiling.

Keeley grinned. “Thanks, but remember? He figured us out.”

“Oh! That’s right,” Clay said. “You know, I’d forgotten that.”

Keeley smiled and didn’t say anything, But she wondered if he’d really forgotten or perhaps was offering because he wanted to see her again. She hoped it was the later.

It didn’t take them any time to get back to their cars it seemed. Clay followed Keeley to hers to make sure she got in safely. Before she could get in though, he grabbed her hand. “I had a really nice time tonight. Glad we had to have dinner instead of coffee,” he smiled.

Her stomach fluttered again. “I did too. Me too,” she said as she gave his hand a squeeze. She leaned down and gave him an awkward hug. Hugging was awkward when one person was seated. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek to even it out.

When she stood back up, Clay was beaming. Keeley let go of his hand and opened her car door, sliding into the seat. Now she was pretty much eye level with him again; she liked it much better.

“Well, I’ll see you soon Keeley,” Clay said, gave her door frame a little pat and then spun around and wheeled back across the parking lot towards his truck. Keeley watched until she couldn’t make his figure out in the dark anymore and then cranked her car and headed home, replaying all the nights events in her head.

All in all, even with Brent calling her an hour before and ruining her good mood, the faux pas, the awkward hug, and even the wheelchair, she decided the date hadn’t gone bad. It hadn’t been a disaster at all.

She grinned and reached across the seat into her purse, rummaging for her cell phone—she had to call Jan and tell her the good news.

PLD Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

106 Beaufain Street looked stately as ever from Keeley’s vantage point in the driveway. She knew it was just as magnificent inside as it was out. Possibly even more so, since she and Brent had put it on the market and stupid Grace Heatherton had hired an interior designer to remove all the personal touches and replace them with stoic white walls and stuffy furniture.

She took a sip of her coffee and sighed; thinking of everything she’d done to make this house a home for her and Brent when they’d been married. Years it took her, years. It took less than a week for the designer and his crew to toss all her furniture and not picked up possessions into the dumpster.

As a minivan pulled into the driveway behind her, Keeley tried to push those thoughts from her head and put a cheery smile on her face. Remember, you want to sell the damn thing. Then, you’ll never have to remember how it used to be ever again, she repeated to herself over and over as she went to greet the chaotic scene behind her.

“Hi, I’m Keeley Burns,” she said pleasantly, extending a hand out for anyone that would, to take it. She smiled as the four little boys, all looking to be under ten, raced up to the front door amid yells of “cool!” and “look at the staircase!” Their tired looking parents flashed her apologetic smiles. She liked them instantly.

“Chuck and Heather Smith,” the man said with an easy smile. “Thanks for meeting us so early today.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Keeley said waving a hand and leading them up the steps and into the house. “Thank you for rescheduling.”

But the Smith’s weren’t listening to her anymore. They were staring in awe at the circular staircase and grand foyer that greeted them. Keeley smiled ruefully, remembering the first time she’d entered the foyer with its black and white checked marble floor and high ceilings. Judging by the look at on the Smith’s face, they liked it. A lot.

But then the Heather Smith’s face drained of color as she saw one of the little boys sliding down the banister. She quickly went and snatched him up while their father apologized and the rest of the little boys were regaled to stand right by him for the rest of the day.

Keeley just laughed, wistfully remembering how excited she’d been when she’d seen the banister; she could just see the fun times she and Brent would have with their kids. She’d slid down it more than a few times herself, much to Brent’s dismay.

She would have had so much fun with her kids in that house; being a mom and a wife and everything else she had planned out. Well, that won’t happen now, she thought as she enviously watched the family explore her old house.

The rest of the morning went smoothly (no more mischievous boy escapades) and a few hours later the Smith’s were all but ready to sign on a dotted line, even though in Keeley’s opinion, Brent had set the price too high. But instead of saying that, she kept her mouth shut and informed them that someone would be in contact with them by the end of the week.

Thank God.

She left the appointment feeling like a smorgasbord of emotions at the possibility of having the old house sold. She thought that she would have been elated at the possibility of never having to deal with Brent and his bullshit ever again, but as it was…she only felt pissed off at the world and envious of those people. They were living the life she should’ve been. As Keeley drove towards her little cottage she felt her carefully constructed nonchalant, devil-may-care, hard-ass attitude crumble, exposing her raw emotions for everyone to see. Well, everyone passing her on the interstate, that is. 

By the time she pulled into her driveway (after a good cry on the interstate) she thought she was done with being jealous and back to being happy to finally close the final chapter of her and Brent’s life together. Then she realized she’d have to see him again to arrange some final things before they sold it. She wanted to scream, but instead just called Jan.

“Why’d you let me marry him?” she asked with a sigh.

“I take it the house showing went well then?” Jan asked, knowing Keeley didn’t really want to hear an answer to her opening question.  

“Fantastic. I think they’re going to buy it,” Keeley gave a sad laugh. “Four little boys. Poor parents. And they immediately took off down the stair banister. So of course, I think they’re perfect for the house. I just can’t even imagine some stuffy old couple living in that house.”

“Even though that’s who you bought it from?” Jan asked laughing.

“Yes,” Keeley joined in. Then she sighed. “But that house was totally meant for kids. That banister! Of course, I think it just should have been my kids…”

Jan clucked sympathetically on the other end.

“God. And she’s such a bimbo too,” she continued, referring to Kelli, as she unlocked her front door.

Jan sighed on the other end. “Well, as I recall, I did tell you to break up with him during our junior year of college. The first time he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

Keeley tried to laugh, knowing Jan didn’t mean her comment as harshly as it sounded. “So, fool on me then huh?”

“Shame on you!” Jan corrected with an audible smile.

Keeley shook her head grinning too and already feeling better as the comfort of her own home surrounded her. She glanced at the business card on the fridge and her stomach fluttered again. Keeley let her mind wander and go back to the night before as Jan droned on and on about her evening plans.

Her best friend had agreed that it hadn’t been a disaster at all. In fact, she had proclaimed it an extreme success, as evidenced by the fact that he’d made the first physical contact and that said contact hadn’t taken place in a bed.

Keeley had thought so too. But as she glanced at the business card again she realized she was bothered by the fact that she hadn’t heard anything else from him since they’d said goodbye. And men said women were confusing. Pfft.

“Hey,” she heard Jan exclaim suddenly and she wondered what she’d missed while she’d been spaced out. “Why don’t y’all come with us?”

“Where’s that?” Keeley asked, trying to back track.

Jan snorted. “Uh-huh. I knew you weren’t listening to a word I said, Keeley Burns. I was telling you that Nate and I are going to the carnival that’s out at Mount Pleasant and was going to see if you two wanted to come with?”

Keeley silently weighed her options in her head before answering. Go to a travelling kids carnival with Jan and her fiancé or stay at home. Option one would entail a fun night and probably a good Brent bashing in there somewhere. But, she also have to be around an engaged couple, and while Jan and Nate were normally good about not being too lovey-dovey, Keeley had a sinking feeling that a carnival atmosphere would bring it out in them. And then there was the whole Clay-being-in-a-wheelchair thing that she hadn’t told Jan about yet. That’d be real fun to deal with.

Option two didn’t sound so bad. A night of being home, grading papers, trying to write a few of her own, and probably pathetically obsessing over why Clay hadn’t called yet. Eh…yep. Decision made. But first she curiously asked, “Who’s this ‘y’all’ you speak of?”

Jan laughed sighed heavily on the other end, as if not being able to understand why Keeley was asking. “Why, you and that dreamy guy of yours!”

Keeley’s jaw hit the floor. “Janelle McAfee, you’re not serious are you?”

“Don’t you dare call me Janelle again,” Jan said in a low voice, making Keeley snicker. “And yes, of course I’m serious!” she added in a brighter tone.

“Jan,” Keeley was shaking her head incredulously. “I can’t just call him up and invite him to go out with me and some friends!”

“Why not?” when Keeley didn’t answer right away Jan continued forcefully. “You know Keeley, any normal woman would invite him after such a wonderful first date last night. It shows that you are interested in him!

Keeley held the phone away from her ear. Jan’s voice had a tendency to get higher and higher the more worked up she got. “You know what? Jan, I can’t really hear you. I’m going through a tunnel and stuff and you’re breaking up—”

“Bullshit Keeley Burns! I know you’re at the cottage! You just know I’m right and—”

“—Bye Janelle!” Keeley said pleasantly and then hung up the phone before she burst into laughter. Jan was going to kill her.

 Her phone beeped a few minutes later indicating she had a text message. From Jan, of course:

We’re leaving at 7:00. See you then.

She shook her head and went to run a hot bubble bath for herself, looking forward to a night of grading papers and doing absolutely nothing.

***

 But by early afternoon Keeley was ready to absolutely pull her hair out. She’d thought that a relaxing afternoon and evening of a bubble bath, a nap, some housework, and some school work would be enjoyable.

As it was, for the first time since she’d started graduate school a little under a year ago, she was actually caught up on her house work, grading papers, and even had started on one of her own.

She groaned aloud as she looked at the clock. 4:17.

Four o’clock and she was already bored out of her mind. She glanced at the business card and then back at the clock. Surely three hours would be enough for a man to get ready. Surely.

Keeley snatched the business card off the fridge and quickly dialed the number before she could chicken out. She wished she had his cell number so that she could just text him instead. It rang four times and just as she was starting to freak out and decide whether or not to leave a message, she heard an unfamiliar voice ask “Hello?”

“Um,” she said, thrown off by the unfamiliar voice. She actually looked at her phone again to make sure she’d dialed the right number. She had. “You’re not Clay?”

Nice, really smooth. Keeley mentally slapped herself. The voice on the other end gave a hearty laugh. “No, and you’re not the man calling from Jefferson Granite that we were expecting.”

The man paused and she heard him yell Clay’s name in the background. She heard a little bit of furious whispering and then Clay’s familiar, but formal, voice came on the other end. “This is Clay Whitlow.”

She took a deep breath, not believing she was actually going to do this. “Hi, Clay, it’s Keeley.”

“Keeley!” his voice immediately lost the formality. “Sorry, about that. My dad commandeered my phone there for a second.”

“It’s okay,” she answered. Maybe I shouldn’t do this, he’s at work after all…

“Wait a second…”

“What?” she asked confused at the skepticism that had crept into his voice all of a sudden.

“I thought you didn’t call guys?”  

She gave a nervous laugh. “Eh, well actually I don’t.”

“Oh? So what, I’m not a guy then?”

Keeley rolled her eyes. “Now, that is not what I meant and you know it.”

Clay laughed. “Okay, so we’ve been on a date once and now you can call me. Is that it?” Without waiting for an answer he went on in a teasing tone, “Keeley Burns, you are just too old-fashioned for your own good. Don’t you know guys get nervous when they always have to make the first move?”

“I can’t even imagine. I just know that I thank God every day I ended up with two X chromosomes so that I was spared that torture,” she said replied quickly.

Clay laughed lightly. Good job Keels!

“On that note,” she continued quickly before she lost her nerve. “I was wondering what you were doing tonight?”

Keeley heard Clay chuckle and then let out a low whistle. “Are you asking me out on a date Keeley?”

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m asking you what you’re doing tonight.”

“Oh, well in that case, I have plans tonight,” he shot right back. Keeley’s heart sank. “But if you were going to ask me out on a date, then my plans might disappear.”

She shook her head, now knowing that he was just messing with her. Feeling especially daring she decided to try her hand at playing along. “Well, then you better rearrange those plans of yours, because take it from someone who knows, Keeley Burns only asks men out like once a blue moon.”

Clay laughed. “What plans?”

She grinned, her stomach doing flips and her mind racing. Good grief, she’d forgotten how nerve-wracking that was. The parking lot thing had been fueled by pure adrenaline and desperation. But before then she hadn’t asked a guy out since her freshman year of college; she’d been drunk and at a party and it’d been a dare from her freshman roommate.

Three guesses as to who it’d been and how it’d turned out. 

“Can you be at my house by six-thirty you think? I know it’s sort of short notice…” she asked, reverting back to flirtatiously retarded Keeley.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem at all.”

Keeley smiled as she gave him her address and informed him of what the evening held in store. It would have been just plain mean to lure him there without forewarning him about meeting her friends and the carnival thing.  Instead of skeptical though, he sounded strangely enthusiastic. They quickly hung up as Brent had a call coming on the other line. “Probably Jefferson Granite Company,” he joked.

“Har har,” Keeley replied as she hung up. Then she kicked it into high gear, her eyes lighting on the dusty shelves and askew pillows—everything she need to straighten up before he got there—you know, on the off chance that he ended up inside.