Finding Karma Page 5

  “How was I to know you had never seen any of the Freddy Krueger movies? You should have told me they scared the shit out of you.” I love his laugh. It’s bringing back so many wonderful memories since I would do anything to hear it back then.

  I can’t help but laugh myself, recalling how I hid under the blanket for half the movie. Braden said we could watch something else, but I convinced him otherwise, trying to make him think I was brave. I had so many nightmares following that night that my mom had to ask him that we watch ‘lighter’ movies in the future. Braden felt so bad. I was just embarrassed.

  Part of me feels like I’ve been reverted to the past, not believing how comfortable I feel with him. It’s as if no time has passed at all, and we’re sitting back on that big denim sofa, a big bowl of popcorn sitting between us.

  We sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and I wonder what he’s thinking about right now. Does he notice how his knee bumps mine when he turns my way? Because I do. My eyes shoot to the exact spot on my leg and when I look back to him, he’s looking directly at me, his smoky eyes filled with intensity.

  “Is it hard being back here?” I blurt out.

  He looks at me like he appreciates the question. I’m relieved he doesn’t seem upset. “It’s funny – I wondered if it would be, but it’s not. I find it comforting.” I nod, letting him know I understand.

  “How much older was your brother?”

  “Three years. He would’ve been a sophomore in college.”

  “I bet he’s proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished.”

  When he turns to me I can see a glisten in his eyes. “You think so?”

  “Yeah.” I feel something crawling on my skin, and I jump off the log, screaming, “Oh my God – get it off me!”

  Braden jumps up too, horror all over his face. “What? Get what off you?”

  I’m moving all over the place, my arms and legs flailing around in the air, praying I’m shaking it off – whatever it is. “I don’t know. Something was crawling on me.”

  Braden makes me face the moonlight while he checks my body everywhere – skimming his fingers over my legs and then my arms and back. I’m trying to pretend this isn’t affecting me in the least while my breathing becomes shallow. “I don’t see or feel anything. Whatever it was, I think you shook it off.” His lips are at my ear and it’s all getting to be too much. I don’t want him to have this effect on me – we’re just trying to get to know each other again.

  I turn to face him. He’s standing so close I can feel his breath on me, a mixture of beer and mint. His eyes drop down to my mouth, and I’m suddenly very conscious of my lips. “Let’s head back. I think you’ve had enough of the wilderness for one night,” he says, as he swallows slowly. I’m in complete agreement, thinking we should join everyone else.

  Walking back to the crowd, I realize how much I enjoyed spending time with him. Before we reach the edge of the crowd, Braden stops and takes my arm, forcing me to turn. “Hey, thanks for asking about Daniel. Nobody talks about him anymore, and I miss talking about him.”

  “You’re welcome. We can talk about him anytime you want.”

  I spot Stella approaching us as we make our way through the horde of kids. I pray she doesn’t make a big deal about Braden and me – sometimes Stella has no filter.

  “There you are…I was about to call out a search party,” she says, eying us up and down.

  Trying to stop her curiosity, I smile and say matter-of-factly, “No need. Did you ever find Marcy?”

  She’s still trying to figure things out when she finally lets it go and says, “Yeah, but she just left. Speaking of leaving…you ready? I’m beat.”

  I glance at Braden and he has a small frown on his face. “Um, yeah, sure.”

  The silence gets a little awkward and Stella picks up on it, saying, “Well, I’ll just meet you at the car, okay?” She turns to Braden and says, “Nice meeting you…I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  Lifting his chin, he says, “Probably.”

  She flicks her eyes to me before she heads to the car. Braden stuffs his hands into his front pockets, balancing back on the heels of his feet. “I’m really glad you came tonight. It’s been really great talking to you again, Karma.”

  Right now he’s nothing like the cocky soccer player I saw on the field, and I’m starting to think that maybe I’ve misjudged him. Maybe the air he puts off is pure confidence. Perhaps he is the definition of a true athlete.

  “I enjoyed it, too.” I glance in Stella’s direction, noticing her eyes pinned on me. “I’d better go. Stella gets grouchy when she’s tired.”

  He nods in understanding. “I guess I’ll see you Monday at school then.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday.”

  I head towards the parked cars but hesitate and turn back around. Braden’s eyes never left me. “I’m glad you moved back.”

  The tips of his lips pull up into a gorgeous smile. “Me, too.”

  I spin back around and walk to Stella’s car.

  She’s sitting on the hood and watches me approach. Knowing I’m in for an interrogation, I take my time getting there. When I’m within about ten feet she says, “What the hell, Karma? You forget to share some major information with me?” I can’t help but pick up on some hurt in her voice.

  I climb on the hood and sit beside her. She stares at me, waiting for me to answer. “Remember when you said that Braden used to live here a long time ago? Well, turns out I knew him in grade school and we were buds.”

  “Why didn’t you say something at the bonfire? That you knew him?”

  I turn and look at her. “Because I didn’t know he was the same guy. He’s in my first-period class and when the teacher called out his name – well, that’s when it all clicked. That’s why he was staring at me the night of the bonfire…he must’ve remembered me.”

  “Wow, that’s kind of cool, Karma.” We sit in silence for a few minutes and she asks, “Are you into him?”

  I sigh heavily. “I like being around him. We have a history, ya know?” I don’t want to tell her about his brother – that’s not my story to tell. “Besides, he’s not the kind of guy I would normally go for. You know that.”

  She snorts. “Um, yeah, okay.” Then, after a short pause, she adds, “Are you nuts?”

  I don’t want to do this anymore. “I don’t know, Stel. I just want to be friends with him, okay?” I hop off the hood and get in the car. She finally joins me, turning the engine over.

  chapter seven

  May 2013

  Misting a bit of Thalassophile at the base of my neck and at my pulse points, I sit the perfume down on my dresser, remembering the moment Lee gifted me a bottle before leaving from my assignment. I was right – shooting the perfume had been rewarding, even though I could hardly pronounce it. Lee laughed at me, the slight rumble in his chest captivating my attention. He then proceeded to explain that it’s a Greek word that simply meant ‘a person who loves the sea and ocean’.

  I’ve not quite gotten him from my mind, thinking that we shared a connection that day. But then I wonder if it was merely one-sided, perhaps wishing that’s what I felt. I’ve never been attracted to an older man before, and I love the way it made me feel. There was something so self-assured about him. Maybe it was merely the wisdom of his added years, living life longer than me, collecting and storing valuable information that I’ve not had the privilege of acquiring yet. Whatever it was, it was certainly appealing.

  But now my thoughts drift to Braden as I ready myself to head towards his office. He called a few days ago with the information of the first photo shoot for the Spectra campaign. It’s being shot at Point Dume, a beach known for its spectacular sand dunes. Braden informed me that the client wants it shot just before sunset so I’m meeting him there before we make the hour drive to the beach.

  Excitement courses through me since I love shooting outside, even at the mercy of the outdoor elements. It’s the challenge and th
rill of getting that perfect shot, working with my complete surroundings.

  Allowing myself plenty of time, I pull into the familiar parking lot of LARU Advertising. After parking beneath a luscious palm tree, I dash across the hot blacktop, hating the heat that it projects from the torrid afternoon sun.

  Once inside, I take the elevator to the fifth floor, and I head toward the reception desk. “I’m here to see Mr. Stewart,” I tell the familiar face behind the desk. I think her name’s Cindy. Today her lips resemble more of a burgundy shade, but just as harsh as the first time I met her.

  She smiles at me, saying, “Yes, Ms. Mickelson. Mr. Stewart’s expecting you. Do you know where his office is located?”

  Feeling a bit embarrassed, I say, “Yes…but I’m not sure I remember the way.”

  She lifts herself up from her chair and walks around her desk. “If you’ll just follow me,” she says, politely.

  Braden’s door is open and she gently taps on it with her knuckles. “Ms. Mickelson to see you, Mr. Stewart.”

  Braden stands from his chair and walks towards us. “Thank you, Cindy.” She nods and starts back towards her desk. His eyes drift to me, softening instantly, and his voice lowers when he addresses me. “You ready to take off?”

  Ignoring the way his eyes drop to my mouth, I tell him, “Yes, I’ll just need the address for the beach in case we get separated…I’m not all that familiar with the beaches.”

  Tipping his head to the side, he says, “That won’t be necessary. You can ride with me.” He must notice the look I give him when he adds, “Really, Karma, there’s no sense in both of us driving.” He grabs a pocket file off the top of his pristine desk. Such a neat freak. “I’ll help you move your equipment to my car. Shall we?” He moves towards the door fully aware he’s just railroaded me. I guess some things never change.

  Braden talks about how thankful he is that the weather is cooperating while we take the elevator down to the lobby. I notice he’s not in his business attire – dressed more casually for the beach, wishing I didn’t notice how great he looks in his faded jeans and blue V-neck T-shirt.

  Once my camera equipment transfers cars, Braden opens the passenger door to let me in. Forever the gentleman. I smile at him as I slide in, placing my bag on the floorboard. This feels so surreal…like I’m replaying a scene from our past. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

  He passes around the front of his SUV and gets in behind the wheel, turning over the engine. There’s a slight tension between us – it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s there all the same.

  As we head west, he says, “So…how long have you been in L.A.?”

  My eyes glance at his hands, one on the steering wheel while the other lies casually on his upper thigh. I hate that I’m so familiar with him, wishing we had just met so this job wasn’t tainted with so much oddity.

  Then I remember he just asked me a question and is expecting an answer. “Um, I moved out here after I graduated, so a couple of years now.”

  He looks at me and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.

  See? Oddity.

  “What about you? Wait – I thought I heard you were in San Jose for a while.” I try to divert the attention back to him.

  He nods, saying, “I got a job right out of college with a small firm there but I soon discovered that L.A. was where I wanted to be.” His eyes dart to mine then quickly back to the road.

  Traffic thickens and I’m thankful that Braden offered to drive. Horns blaring and the slowing down of several lanes of the highway signals just how nuts it can get driving from point A to point B. To keep the conversation flowing, I say, “So…I can honestly say I never saw you going into advertising. What made you go that route?” I’m not sure how much dialogue we can have without bringing our history into play.

  He casually shrugs and says, “After my soccer career had ended abruptly, I had to change my course of action. Marketing has always interested me so I decided to take a couple of courses to see what I thought. Turns out I loved it. Who knew?”

  We keep the conversation light for the rest of the drive, inquiring about each other’s parents, who we’ve kept in touch with since high school, and Braden told me about some professors who greatly influenced him at UCLA – both of us avoiding any mention of our prior relationship.

  Once we get to Point Dume, the models and costume team arrive fifteen minutes later, and we quickly set up props for our shoot. We won’t have to stand around forever before the perfect lighting sets in, but the models must hustle through outfit changes if we’re to get everything shot within our small window of time.

  Braden is amazing to watch as the man-in-charge, demonstrating how his encouraging and inspiring personality naturally compels those around him to follow his lead. His crew respects him, causing me to admire the man he’s become, the man I always knew he would be. I can’t help but notice his voice is much gentler when directing me. No one else would notice, but I detect it all the same.

  The images flashing through my lens are amazing. Braden did his research when he chose this beach. The sun slowly descending casts a soft, golden glow on the sand, making for a beautiful backdrop for the casual line of clothing being displayed by the models.

  There’s a mixture of both men and women’s clothing in the line, the chemistry between the two sexes off the charts. Whoever cast them had a great sense of what sells, and these photos will definitely sell this designer’s clothing. I wonder to myself how Braden will top this since the client wants three options.

  I call it a wrap when I’ve lost the right light. Braden jogs over to me and asks, “Did you get enough to work with? Or do we need to come back?”

  I know he wants this to be great since he recommended me for the job. I also know this is one of my better shoots, and I’m not worried in the least. “Relax, Braden. I’ve got more than enough to work with.”

  I see his shoulders relax with my words and he turns so everyone can hear him. “That’s a wrap – everyone pack up and thanks for coming out – you did great,” he shouts, his hands cupped around his mouth.

  He turns and says, “I can’t wait to see your shots.” He seems like he wants to add something but hesitates.

  “What is it, Braden? Are you worried about my work?” I can’t help but feel somewhat offended.

  His brows lift in a frown. “No…just the opposite, Karma. I was going to ask if you wanted to stop and have dinner on the way back. I thought we could go over the pictures.” I think I detect hope in his voice, but I can’t be sure.

  Well, I am hungry. I guess it wouldn’t hurt – nothing more than a business dinner, right? “Sure. Fine with me. Just let me pack up my stuff.”

  Something passes across his face – was that relief I just saw?

  “Great. Just let me wrap up a few things, and I’ll meet you back at the car.” I nod and he walks to finish up with his assistants.

  I get my equipment back in Braden’s car and then lean against the passenger door, watching him interact with the crew. I see he hasn’t lost his touch for relating to others and not surprisingly, he’s as successful as he seems to be.

  His head turns one way, then another, as though he’s looking for someone. I quickly realize he’s looking for me. When he sees me propped up against his car, he smiles and walks towards me. When he reaches me, he asks, “You ready?” I nod and move to open my car door, but Braden beats me to it, our fingers brushing. Tingles travel throughout my body. One look at him tells me he felt it, too, and he swallows slowly as he makes sure I’m all tucked in before shutting the door.

  I watch him walk around the car, trying to read him.

  Sliding in behind the wheel, he starts the car and says, “I know the perfect Mexican place we can stop at.” Turning, he says, “You still like Mexican, don’t you?”

  It’s the first time he’s referred to knowing we share a past. “Yes…I still like Mexican, Braden.”

  A genuine smile spreads across
his face. “I thought so.”

  We talk about the photo shoot all the way to the restaurant, and I grab my camera as Braden opens my door to let me out. I was tempted to look at them in the car, but I knew Braden wanted to see them, too.

  After being seated in a large, wooden booth, lively Mexican music wafting through the air, we place our orders quickly so we can go over the pictures. I’m finding it awkward to look at one and then turn the camera toward him so he can see. He picks up on the fact, getting up from the booth and sliding into my side, our thighs barely touching. “Now we can both see,” he says, innocently, showcasing that familiar small lift of one side of his mouth.

  I slowly go through each photo, mentally editing them as they appear. Braden remains silent, and I’m not sure what that means. We’ve gone through about twenty, and I can’t stand it any longer. I lower the camera and look directly at him. “You haven’t said a word and you’re making me nuts. Do you not like any of them?” I hate I sound like I need his approval because I know they’re great. But his reaction means more than I care to admit. Especially because he felt I chose this over him.

  His eyes lock on mine and I see so many emotions pass through them. Pain. Pride. Regret. He looks back at my camera and says, “I just got caught up in them, Karma. They’re so much more than I even expected…” His voice drops and he looks back up at me, but now he’s wearing his professional face again. “The client is going to love these.”

  His eyes move to my lips as I press them together, and I force myself to turn away from him, raising my camera so we can view the rest of the photo shoot. Braden picks out the ones that stand out to him, and I jot them down, knowing I will pay close attention to editing them.

  When we get to the end, Braden gets up and slides back into the opposite side of the booth right before our entrees are placed in front of us. The rest of the evening is business as usual.