Finding Karma Page 2

  Hearing Stella pull in my driveway, I yell to my mom I’m leaving. I have no curfew. My parents are easy-going, free-flowing, let it roll-off-your-back kind of parents. I could walk in at three a.m. and they would be cool with it, as long as it makes me grow as a person and brings me joy. Yeah, it’s a good thing I have a good head on my shoulders.

  Sliding into the passenger seat, I yell, “Hey” to her above the music flowing through her speakers.

  She grins a wicked grin. “Ready for some fun?” she asks, adjusting the volume of her CD player. She’s all about having a good time and her mood is infectious. Juniors. We’re under the impression this is our year, seeing as how we’ve been talking about it all summer long.

  “Yep,” I tell her, wrapping the strap of the seatbelt around me. She pulls out of the driveway and heads for The Pit, a secluded place we stumbled upon and turned into our stomping ground.

  We drive off the beaten path on the dirt road that leads to the fire pit. The place is already littered with high-schoolers; coolers sitting beside their chairs which have been placed in a ring around what would soon be a roaring blaze. Music hangs in the air while joints are being passed around. Laughter and chitchat compete against the background of the bass that’s pounding from someone’s speaker. Stella parks the car and we get out and walk towards the back.

  Some of the guys get the bonfire ready as the sun descends behind the mountains, casting a warm glow over their peaks. Dragging our fold up chairs from the back of Stella’s car, we set them a safe distance from the circle of the impending flames.

  The energy hums and a whiff of fresh earth invades my nostrils from the trucks overturning the rich, dark ground. It doesn’t take long before the scent of sweat, weed, and the clashing of perfumes battle my senses.

  What I like most about hanging out here is there’s an unspoken acceptance; no hierarchy, no cool kids or nerds. We all just hang out. Whereas, in school, the cliques are noticeable, they don’t exist so much out here. I find the concept quite freeing, like how it might be once we get out of school, something I look forward to. Says the girl who judges jocks. Whatever.

  I notice a group of guys I recognize from the soccer field earlier and then I see him. He’s watching me. I divert my gaze, wondering what his deal is since I’m not used to guys, especially hot guys, noticing me. I can’t shake the feeling I know him somehow but I can’t think from where. Not being able to stand it, my eyes lift to his once more and this time I hold them steady, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. My bravery is cut short when a friend of his demands his attention. He turns in the opposite direction, and I’m now embarrassed by my unusual brazenness.

  Stella nudges me in the arm. “That guy’s been checking you out since we got here.”

  “Yeah? Know who he is?”

  Her face lights up. “Well, his name’s Braden something. Susie told me he used to live here. His dad works for some hotshot high-tech company and they moved out to Cali. Now he’s back. He was the star of his soccer team. Word is he’s better than anyone here.” She studies him as she rattles off his history, and I’m thankful he isn’t paying attention to us at the moment. She sighs heavily. “And God Almighty is he ever hot.” I laugh and have to agree with her. Just the way he carries himself makes him attractive, not to mention the masculinity that pours off him. His prominent cheekbones and broad chin are his winning features, but the hand holding his beer is a close second. There’s just something about a guy’s hands…

  Some other people pull up and distract Stella from the trance the new guy has her in. I think about what she just shared and wonder if he’s the same Braden I knew in grade school. Is that how I know him? He moved away, too. Only grade school Braden was the ‘lost boy.’ So I doubt it was him.

  With the bonfire ablaze, I stare into the flames dancing around the stacked wood, fully lost in thought. I could do this for hours, entranced by the crackling and hissing of the burning timber. The conversations around me are muffled as if I’m underwater, but I’m brought out of my trance when I realize Jimmy has seated himself in Stella’s abandoned chair. I hadn’t even realized she’d left. I look around and spot her talking to some people she knows from student government.

  “Hey, Karma.” He eyes me carefully, gauging whether or not he’s intruding. I have to admit sometimes he gets on my nerves. He lives a couple of houses down from me, and we played together when we were younger, growing apart as we grew up.

  “Hey, Jimmy.”

  “Saw you taking pictures earlier today. New hobby?”

  I frown. “Not quite. I signed up for the yearbook, and they shoved a camera in my hand.”

  He chuckles at my displeasure and nods. “Well, I bet you’ll be great.”

  I shrug my shoulders, remembering how I felt euphoric with my shots after studying them in the privacy of my bedroom. If I’m honest, I was surprisingly pleased with the results.

  “I hear your team has picked up a star player,” I say, fishing for a little information.

  He grins. “Yeah, he just might help us win this year. I’ve never seen anything quite like him.” He pauses like he wants to say more but he’s unsure.

  “What?”

  Still hesitating, he admits, “He was asking about you today after practice.”

  My brows scrunch up in confusion, and my heart rate accelerates. “Why?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Not sure. He just asked what your name was.” He smiles. “You do have an unusual name, Karma.”

  I roll my eyes…like I haven’t heard that before. My parents are kind of hippies. I guess they felt like paying homage to their favorite era. At least I wasn’t named Moon or Rain.

  Before our conversation goes any further, Stella walks up. “Thanks for keeping my chair warm, Jimmy.”

  He looks up, a little put off for being kicked out before he’s ready. “I was just leaving, Stella.” Standing up, he turns and says, “Talk to you later.” I nod, then give Stella a look for being bitchy, which she ignores, plopping down in her chair.

  After Jimmy’s out of earshot, she says, “That boy has a thing for you, Karma. When’s he going to realize you aren’t interested?”

  “Quit being so mean, Stel. And he doesn’t have a thing for me…he’s just friendly.”

  “Mm-hm. Just keep telling yourself that, girl.” She takes a joint out of her pocket and lights it up.

  “Where’d you get that?” I ask, a little surprised. We have no problem taking a hit off a joint being passed around, but we never have one in our possession. Not only are we not old enough to buy it yet, but we also don’t really need to when it always seems to appear at these get-togethers. We aren’t potheads, just like to smoke every now and again socially.

  She waits until she holds in her hit as long as possible before she answers. “Zac gave it to me. Want some?” She holds it out and I take it, inhaling slowly before extending my hand back to her. We sit in silence, going back and forth until the joint is down to the nub.

  Not knowing how much time has passed, I let the cannabis float through my body cell by cell, concentrating on the intensity of the flames of the fire in front of me. I feel the bass of the nearby music thump in time with my heartbeat, allowing it to pulsate throughout the rest of my body. Everything is magnified, and I find myself searching for those familiar eyes.

  The place is crawling with teenagers, not to mention the fact it’s pitch black around us except for the illumination of the fire. As I search the faces, everyone seems to be in their own little world, laughter and conversation flowing. And then I see him. He has a beer in that masculine hand, and he’s talking animatedly to some guy on the soccer team, his beer sloshing out of the tiny hole at the top of the can. He stops talking, maybe sensing my gaze, and slowly turns and locks eyes with mine once again. Being slightly stoned, I don’t care I’ve been caught, and he doesn’t turn away either. Finally, he gives me a half-grin before turning back to his new friends.

  I chide myself for t
hinking about him. I don’t want to think about him. He couldn’t be further from my type, but I’m curious about why he seems so intense. There are lots of beautiful girls here, but he doesn’t seem to stare at them.

  I just don’t understand why he’s pegged me as a person of interest.

  chapter three

  April 2013

  I’m having a hard time concentrating on the contract I’m filling out, especially since I can feel Braden’s eyes on me. Intense, yet comforting. But it’s not just that. My mind is unable to wrap itself around the fact that I thought I’d never see him again, let alone be working for him.

  We’re now in his office, taking care of the paperwork. T’s crossed. I’s dotted.

  I take my time answering all the pertinent questions, attempting to ignore the intensity of his probing eyes. I’m pretty sure they’ve been on me since I sat down, finding it difficult to concentrate. I glance up, my eyes meeting his, a small smile starting to lift on one side of his mouth. Damn. I kind of hate that I’m so familiar with him. It’s disarming.

  And I think he loves this. Blindsiding me while he maintains the upper hand. I don’t like being unprepared. Yet, there’s no way in hell I could have been prepared for this. Not in a million years.

  Is this even a good idea?

  Why not? I can do this. He’s just a person – who happens to be from my past. And that’s where it will all stay. In the past where it belongs. Today, we start out on fresh ground, so to speak. I’m prepared to do the best job I know how for him and his client, and there’s no reason we can’t work together.

  Finally finished with the monotonous paperwork, I slide the contract towards him, my fingertips pressed against the paper as I push it away from me. Grabbing the edge, he sweeps it up, holding it upright as he taps the ends on top his desk, straightening the papers.

  “Any questions?” he asks.

  I think for a minute before saying, “None I can think of.”

  Studying me, he leans back in his plush, high-back leather chair, resting his elbows on the wooden armrests. “Think Karson Designs can handle this? By the way, it took me awhile but I finally figured out where Karson came from – first three letters of Karma and last three letters of Mickelson, right?”

  I nod and say, “And I can certainly handle this, Braden. Why would you call me in if you didn’t think I could handle it?” A defensive tone slips through my words, and I regret it instantly.

  His hands go up in defense while he shakes his head. “Just confirming, Karma. Relax.”

  He picks up a pen and begins twirling it in his masculine fingers. A sincere smile spreads across his face, and I wish I were able to read his thoughts.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’ve changed.”

  Tilting my head, my brows rise in question. “Meaning?”

  A nervous laughter escapes him. “Not in a bad way. You exude confidence, that’s all.” He picks lint from his pants and flicks it to the floor, and I wonder if he’s changed. It’s hard to get a read on him in the short amount of time we’ve been talking. Confidence still clings to him, its grip holding firm. But, and it just kind of hit me, he seems to have a slight softness to him – just a tad bit more humble, if that’s even the right word.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I tell him.

  He smiles again, this time reaching his eyes. “As you should.”

  As he glances at the time on his phone, a feeling of uneasiness floats over me. “Oh, I’m sorry – I’d better get going and let you get back to work.” I stand, probably too quickly, like I’ve just been pinched as he reaches for one the business cards sitting at the edge of his desk, handing it to me as he joins me in standing.

  “Call me anytime if you have any questions.” I must have given him an uncertain look and he adds, “Look, Karma, we’re going to be working closely on this project. If it’s going to be a problem, I need for you to tell me now before it gets too involved. I’ve got a lot riding on this campaign.”

  “No!” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not a problem, Braden. There’s no reason why we can’t work together like two mature adults.” Even as I say the words, I’m wondering how in the hell I’ve gotten myself in this position. My emotions are all over the freaking place. He’s never looked more appealing and we will be working together. I’ve never felt further away from an adult. I feel like I’m back in high school, mesmerized by Braden’s charm all over again. Dispelling the thought, I quickly tell myself it’s clearly nostalgia, nothing more.

  “We’ll be in touch as soon as we’re ready to start shooting,” he says.

  Leaning over, I zip my portfolio, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. I force a smile, and he walks me to the door. He opens it, standing back to let me pass through and then walks me to the elevator. Does he do this for all of his clients or just me? Shit! I can’t think this way. It’s strictly platonic – two people doing a job.

  Just as the elevator doors open, he puts his hand on my arm and the heat from his fingers singe the skin beneath my blouse. I expect to look down and see smoke and charred fibers. When I glance at his hand, he quickly removes it. “It’s really good to see you, Karma.”

  There it is, that softness I was talking about. “It’s good to see you, too. I’ll be in touch.” I step into the elevator and our eyes lock as the doors slowly shut.

  My stomach twists into knots as I head down to my car. What the hell just happened? I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. Sure, I always wondered if I’d run into him in our hometown, but I haven’t been home except for quick visits to see my parents. I never imagined running into him here.

  Now that I’m away from him, I sink into the oddness of it all. Could this be any more surreal? At least I finally got to the point where animosity no longer clouds my head when he comes to mind. I finally let that go, thank god. The most freeing feeling occurred when I thought about him and realized it was with fondness and not anger. That was a huge awareness; one I hadn’t even realized had happened.

  This is a huge job for me, and I need to keep it on a completely professional level, not letting our past get in the way of proving to LARU just how perfect I am for the job. No way do I want anything to jeopardize this ad campaign. LARU’s a top-notch advertising agency, and I can obtain plenty more work from similar firms if I present this photo shoot as one of my best.

  I have no idea where Braden stands, if he has any agenda by recommending my services. He could be seeing someone for all I know. However, I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. I’m sure enough time has passed that it’s safe to say that we can work together, maybe even become friends again.

  * * *

  My new roommate, Jada, and I waltz down the sidewalk to meet some friends of hers at a trendy bar that’s only a couple of blocks from our apartment. I met Jada on a photoshoot a couple of weeks ago – she was one of the models for a new clothing line being introduced into the fashion world of L.A.. I had overheard her talking on the phone about how she desperately needed a roommate since her boyfriend had decided that being exclusive in their relationship wasn’t a concept he could relate to. Since she kicked his sorry ass out, she couldn’t swing the rent on her own, even if she did make good money modeling – this was L.A., after all.

  My current living arrangements were far from ideal, and I approached the goddess-like creature just as she ended her call with a heavy sigh.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Are you looking for a roommate?” I almost retracted the question when I asked. This is how I got myself in my current bind – rooming with strangers who turned out to only be interested in a party atmosphere every day of the week. But then I reminded myself anything was better than enduring the chaotic mess of a nightclub impression within the tiny walls of our apartment, so I waited for her answer with high hopes of something a little more Zen-like.

  Her beautiful green eyes sparkled and the corners of her full lips turned up with a hope of her own.
“Oh my god, please tell me you need a place to stay.” I envision myself signing the lease in her eyes, and I couldn’t help but sympathize with her.

  “Well, I’d be interested in hearing the details.” I offered my hand to her. “I’m Karma Mickelson, by the way.”

  She gently took my hand, giving a gentle shake. “Jada Lowry. Care to grab a coffee and I’ll fill you in?” Having a good feeling about Jada, I asked her to give me a few minutes to pack up my camera equipment before we headed to the nearest coffee shop. The conversation was exactly what I needed to hear, and now I’ve filled Jada’s apartment with all the things I’ve collected since I graduated from college two years ago.

  The bar is only half-full and we grab a table since her friends haven’t arrived yet. She describes each in detail while we’re waiting, and I recognize them immediately when they walk in the door.

  They’re all models so they’re all gorgeous, especially the two guys in the group. I’m instantly glad I paid a little extra attention to my appearance tonight. Jada introduces everyone and I can’t help but notice that James’ eyes linger on me after he learns I’m her new roommate. The other guy, Derrick, looks like he’s with one of the girls, his hand placed on the small of her back as they approach the table.

  James sits beside me and smiles. “Jada told us all about you at our photo shoot today. Welcome to the group.” He holds out his hand and I gently take it, feeling a little shy. His grip is strong and he holds on a little longer than necessary. It’s been a long time since someone has made me aware of myself.

  “Thanks…it seems like quite the group.” He smiles again and I’m aware of his elbow touching mine on the edge of the table. Since when have I been hyper-aware of the opposite sex? Maybe it’s just him…it doesn’t hurt that he’s charming – and beautiful. His dark, wavy hair is short with a messed look, and his skin boasts of time in the sun. His toned physique suits him well, and I think how nice he must look without his shirt.