Page 10 of Someone Just Like You

Chapter Five

Just like when we were kids, striking back at Jude wasn’t a choice. It was a survival mechanism. But it had been a long time, and I waswayout of practice. Sunday afternoon I walked down the stairs to Sakagura with a light quiver in my stomach. I paused at the entrance and breathed deeply. As always when dealing with Jude, my body chemistry was a mixture of giggly anticipation and sweaty apprehension. A glance at my knees peeking out from under my floral-printed miniskirt confirmed they were wobbling even though I was standing still. I shook out my shoulders to dry out the dampness that had gathered under my arms despite the uncharacteristically cool July day.

I wiped my clammy hands on my skirt and entered the restaurant. Sakagura had been my addition to the list of possible venues for the party. On my first day at the law firm, my assigned mentor had brought me there. Its hidden location in the basement of a random midtown office building had me worrying it wasn’t really lunch on the menu but some terrifying first-year-associate initiation, but I quickly discovered the cloak-and-dagger address only added to the charm of the Japanese restaurant tucked into the cellar. I’d been back many times since for the sashimi, soba noodles, and impressive sake menu. I thought we could hold the party in one of the private dining areas set apart from the main room and bar with shoji screens. Surprisingly, I got no argument from Nicole, Eddie, or Jude. The latter was the most surprising of all.

Esther thought my prank for today was uninspired—sending Jude to the appointment an hour late was too similar to him sending me to a restaurant that wasn’t expecting me at all. But my lack of creativity was by design. If Jude also assumed I would come up with something more innovative, my messing with the appointment time wouldn’t even cross his mind. Well, that was the idea, at least. Experience had steered me away from overconfidence when it came to Jude.

I gave my name to the hostess and told her I had an appointment with Mari. I held my breath waiting for her to say the other member of my party had already arrived, but she said no such thing.Good. Jude hadn’t beaten me there and started without me like the last time. If everything went according to plan, he was still at his apartment putzing around with Yogi and his two roommates on the assumption he had plenty of time.Ha! Take that, Rude!

I bounced on my toes, tempted to clap my hands in glorious anticipation. The chuckle lodged at the bottom of my throat worked its way out of my mouth. I was still giggling when an older Japanese woman wearing a midnight-blue robe walked through the string curtain separating the hostess station from the dining area and smiled at me. “Molly?”

I sucked back my laughter and held out my hand. “That’s me.”

“I’m meeting with two of you, correct? Jude?” She glanced to my right and left as if expecting another person to magically materialize.

Adopting a fake regretful expression, I said, “Unfortunately, Jude isn’t going to make it.”

“Actually, I’m right here,” came a deep voice from behind me.

I froze. Was that…?No. How did…?No.

“Jude Stark,” he said, now at my side with his hand extended to Mari.

Mari grinned and shook his hand. “Let’s begin. Follow me.” She led us single file beyond the curtain through which she’d come a minute earlier. I labored to walk like a normal person, all the while picturing Jude’s victorious-with-a-side-of-smug smirk directed at my back.

How had he known? Was it actually an hour later because Jude had snuck into my apartment and changed the time on all my clocks? Or had he planted a tracking device on my phone during our last meeting to keep constant tabs?

I clenched my fists. What if Esther had consorted with the enemy and told him everything? I loosened my fingers. Of all the ridiculous scenarios running through my head, I ruled out only the last one. Esther was fiercely loyal.

Guessing at an explanation was pointless. Historically, Jude’s stunts had a 99 percent success rate whereas mine hovered at around 85 percent. Bottom line: this one fell in the 15 percent failure column. It hadn’t worked, but the world hadn’t ended, and no one had gotten hurt. It could have been so much worse. Now I just had to get through the meeting and keep my head held high during his inevitable “I’m so much better than you” speech before I could go home and mope in private. I’d confide in Esther if I had any confidence she’d refrain from saying, “I told you so.” I had no such confidence.

Once settled at a table, Mari told us about the various prix-fixe menus for the party and private room options. I was only half present. Singularly focused on the success or failure of my prank, I hadn’t read through my list of questions ahead of time, and my shaky voice evidenced my lack of preparation. This time, Jude didn’t make jokes about my preparedness (or lack thereof). But I knew the perfect insults would materialize at his whim as always. He was so unlike me, who tended to rehearse my arguments ahead of time, imagining different scenarios so I’d be prepared no matter what my opponent tossed my way.

He was playing it so cool, even asking for my thoughts as if we were truly partners. I worked to look everywhere else but at him. My reward was one of those annoying eye twitches. Perhaps another nickname for Jude to adopt.Eye-twitch Molly.

A half hour later, we told Mari we’d be in touch after conferring with the rest of our families and made our way to the exit. Once outside, no words were exchanged. If, like me, Jude was going straight home, we were both headed in the same direction. I waited for him to brag about my prank-gone-wrong. Minutes passed, although it might have been painfully long seconds, and he said nothing. We continued to walk, step by step by step. Our silence made all the surrounding noises seem louder: car engines, kids playing, the hum of third-party conversations. I mentally willed him to get on with it. But no, he waswhistling…to the tune of “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da”…just waiting for the right moment to sock it to me. If this were a movie, the background music would build as if warning viewers of approaching drama. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “What did you think?” I gulped. “About the place?” Anything to break the awkward silence.

Jude stopped whistling. “I always call ahead to confirm. You told me the meeting time, but I double checked. Years of working in the restaurant business, I guess.” He shrugged, the words falling from his lips so nonchalantly, he could have been pointing out a crack in the sidewalk and not explaining how he’d managed to escape the practical joke played on him by his near-lifelong nemesis.

I stopped in place and gazed up at him from about seven inches below. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” His posture was relaxed, and in his pale yellow drawstring shorts and black t-shirt, he could pass for a guy on a casual walk, not an angry victim of a prank, preparing his inevitable next move. He was so unpredictable. Sometimes his gloating was loud and obnoxious, and other times he took his victory softly and with no fanfare at all. It was impossible to prepare for it.

“It was a solid effort, Mole.” A breeze blew in, sweeping a dark hair into his eye. He brushed it away and kept walking.

I doubled my stride to catch up to him.

He stopped in front of my building and looked up. “This is you. The Churchill.”

Was he really going to let me off the hook that easily? I didn’t buy it.

His phone rang. “Hey,” he said to whoever it was before holding up a finger and mouthing, “One second” to me.

I nodded my assent.

“What’s wrong?”

The question caught my attention, but I stared down at my bubblegum-pink toenails and pretended not to eavesdrop.

“That’s because you’re too nice. It’s not your job to make everyone else happy. They don’t even appreciate it.”

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