by Fields, MJ
Harper squints. “Do I need to issue a field sobriety test on you?”
I wave my hand at him. “No, no, no.”
He puts his gas nozzle in the holster and opens the front door. “We found that friend of yours. She was in a bad state a few weeks ago. She was sent to rehab, but word is, she checked herself out. You need to stay away from people like her if you want to stay clean yourself.”
I should be annoyed that he thinks I’m a drug addict, but I’m more confused by what I heard. “Victoria was in rehab?”
He tsks, a disappointed expression on his face. “Why anyone would refuse help is beyond me.”
My brain is revving at a million miles an hour. Victoria was found and sent to rehab. I saw her at the bar, so her checking herself out of rehab makes sense. But, if she was discovered and Harper recognized her name from my story, then…
“Does Reingold know she was found?”
“He’s the one who brought her in.” The radio on his hip goes off, a woman’s voice speaking in terms and numbers. “I have to go. You have a good day,” he says.
I hold up a hand in a pathetic wave.
The police cruiser drives off. I’m still standing there, stunned, when I hear Adam’s feet running across the blacktop.
I turn around. “You lied to me.”
His mouth is open, but words aren’t coming out. He has no idea what to say. Too bad for him, I have all the words in the world.
“You lying piece of shit. You knew it was Victoria driving my car that night! You found her and sent her to rehab. How long after my arrest did you find her?”
His words are awfully quiet for someone whose guilt is screaming in the daylight. “The next day.”
“The next day?” I shriek. “Why am I here? You tricked me into this”—I motion to the space between us—“this punishment.”
He blanches at my phrase. It’s true. Being with him has been nothing but punishment.
“I did you a favor. There’s no camera evidence and no deployed airbag, and no one actually saw you get in the car.”
My stomach is internally rolling in disgust. “You knew she drove my car while high and crashed it, yet you still made me do community service. You held my dreams in the palm of your hand. For what? Is this payback?”
He doesn’t say a word. It’s how I know I’m right.
“I didn’t kill him!” I shout. “When will you stop blaming me for Brad’s death?”
“Baby—”
“Baby? Oh,” I balk. My mouth is agape, my body seizing with nervous energy, ready to take him down in a gas station. “We are so far beyond what happened in the woods. If you think I was angry then, you have no idea how furious I am now.”
“Please—”
“Suzanne was right. She said one of us was going to get hurt. I was just really hoping it wouldn’t be me.”
Twenty
My legs are wrapped around the metal steel, my body swaying with the movement as it dips and spins. I gesture to Noreen to turn it up higher. I already beat the record. Now, I want to see how fast I can go.
My butt jolts as the mechanical bull turns up a notch. My shoulders fall forward, and I know I’m done for. I’m instantly on the mat, failing and landing on my hip. It wasn’t the most graceful, and I’m grateful it’s only Monday, which means the bar isn’t packed.
“How was my landing?” I ask Noreen.
She holds up three fingers. “I’m only giving you that many because you set my hours.”
I pull down my T-shirt and undo the hair tie from my hair. My mane gets in my way sometimes, making me want to chop it all off to something shorter, like one of those bobs where it’s longer in the front and shorter in the back.
Pulling my hair into a new ponytail, I walk across the floor just as Suzanne is walking through the front door. I shouldn’t be surprised that Jessica is right behind her. Suzanne is in all black, having just come off work at the salon. Jessica is wearing pleated gray pants and a white sleeveless blouse, something she must have worn to teach summer school. They grab a high-top near the bar, which means they’re going to be eating. Noreen is on her way to the table, but I wave her off. I like serving my friends.
Walking over to the girls, I plaster a smile on my face. “What are my girls drinking tonight?”
Suzanne looks up at me from her menu, her eyes darting over to Jessica, who is not smiling back at me like she usually does.
“I want the most fattening thing on the menu and something strong to drink. I’m nursing a broken heart,” Jessica says.
My stomach turns.
Suzanne holds the menu to her chest and says, “We’ll have two Caesar salads.”
“No,” Jessica chimes in, her voice distraught. “I want the nachos with extra cheese and sour cream. And I want a vodka, straight.”
“She’ll have a Sprite,” Suzanne states.
“Adam broke up with me,” Jessica says as she lowers her shoulders. “I want to drink away my sorrows.”
“You’re being a tad bit dramatic.” Suzanne is being uncharacteristically dismissive.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Why the hell would he do something like that?”
I could punch him. I could punch myself. I could punch Suzanne for that look she’s giving me.
Placing a hand on Jessica’s shoulder, I give it a rub. “You are too smart and beautiful to waste a moment moping over some guy.”
“Whatever. It was only those two dates. Not like I was in love with him or anything. I just hate the thought of being dumped. It sucks, you know?” Jessica says.
I shake my head. “McConaughey is right.”
“Oh, boy,” Suzanne says, putting her menu down.
“Here we go,” Jessica adds with a sigh.
“‘The male is always the pawn in a romantic comedy. Come together, break up, go chase her, get her, roll credits,’” I quote the legend. “Why do men get to decide how our romances play out? They are the ones to ask us out, they choose where we go on dates, and they’re the ones to decide when it ends.”
Jessica sways as she answers, “Well, not really. It was my idea to go bowling.”
I ignore her. “I’m sick of it. Sick of being held hostage by when he’s gonna show up and if he noticed the perfume I put on or how the yoga pants I’m wearing say Sexy—and if he actually finds my ass to be sexy enough to grab—and if he’s watching me the same way I’m staring at him because, even though there are secrets to our past, I can’t stop looking at him and wondering what our future could be like if things were different.”
They’re gaping at me like I have three heads.
“I’ve never worn perfume specifically for a guy,” Jessica says.
“My ass is too big to have anything written on the back,” Suzanne adds.
With a huff, I turn around and head to the bar. I grab a bottle of vodka and make Jessica her drink. When I get back to the table, the two are mid discussion.
“I wouldn’t call it being dumped. Like you said, it was only two dates. You never even kissed him,” Suzanne says.
I nearly drop the glass.
“What about at the camp?” I ask incredulously. “You shared a tent.”
Jessica shakes her head. “No. He slept in a sleeping bag outside. I was by myself. Kinda knew something was off. I thought it was because of the fight you two had in the woods, but it turns out, he was never planning on sharing a tent with me.”
I told the girls Adam and I had an argument. Then, I went right into my tent, not coming out until it was time to pack up the next morning.
“Yeah, that must have been some fight,” Suzanne says in a manner that means she doesn’t believe it was a fight at all.
I take a sip of Jessica’s vodka drink. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
She eyes the glass that is currently on the rim of my mouth. “I’ll take a Sprite.”
“Oh.” I hold the glass up and shrug in an apology. “Sorry.”
“I want to
go dancing,” Jessica announces. “The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one.” She waggles her eyebrows.
Suzanne lowers her chin. “I thought you were in mourning.”
“I am,” Jessica declares. “How’s Thursday? I won’t be mourning by then.” She looks at us with puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Leah. I know you’re not working on Friday morning.”
She bats her lashes, and I hold the cold glass up to my cheek as I think.
“I do have that adorable strapless white dress I bought last month.” It’s cinched at the waist and falls mid thigh. It’s flirty and sexy, and I’ve been dying to wear it.
“That’s my girl!” Jessica squeals. “Now, I have to figure out what I’m going to wear. It has to be killer in case I run into Adam.”
Suzanne twists her mouth and looks my way.
I turn around and take the glass of vodka back to the bar, pour it in the sink, and ask Noreen to bring them their drinks.
With my hand on my forehead, I walk to the back office and close the door. Dropping into the desk chair, I swivel it around and face the wall. I place my feet on the wall and push off, making the back of the chair hit the desk. With my head rolled back, I look up at the ceiling and sigh.
There’s a creaking sound as the door opens. I lean my head further back to see the upside-down image of Suzanne walking into the office.
“I don’t want to hear it.” I put my head down and stare at my shoes against the wall. “Yes, we fooled around in the woods. Yes, I know it was wrong. No, we’re never seeing each other again because, yes, I know this will kill Jessica, so, no, I won’t be telling her. Yes, I know I’m an idiot. Yes, I know I’m a bad friend. And, finally, no, Adam and I are not together.”
“I was wrong,” she says.
I tilt my ear in her direction.
Her bracelets jangle as she raises a hand to probably pull that wild mane of curls away from her forehead. “I thought this was all part of your obsession with him. That wanting him was only because you couldn’t, and if you had him, it would be more like winning the war you two had waged upon each other. It took me way too long to realize that this isn’t some infatuation.”
I don’t deny it. It would be stupid to.
“Jessica isn’t the only one he turned down. You were right. Nothing good will come of us being together. That’s what happens when you take drugs, right? You get high for a moment, and then you crash. You’ll never fight the urge, and without your next hit, you’re just a junkie searching the streets for it.”
“I’ve never seen you act like this about someone.”
I drop my legs and swivel around. “I want to be superwoman and do it all on my own.” I’m not just talking about Adam anymore.
“You can’t be a one-man band forever, Leah. You’re like the monkey with the drum on his belly and tambourines for hands.”
She’s getting mouthy. I usually like it when Suzanne tells it like it is. Not so much today.
“You’re a walking, talking, traveling party. But where do you go to wind down? Who takes care of you at the end of the day? He’s the one who grounds you. He is the one who plays your stupid license plate game and gets you to build things and buy things for kids without homes. And not because you couldn’t do those things on your own. You’ve always had these great qualities. Adam just happens to be the man who brings out the best in you.”
“You said I should stay away from him.”
“I also said you should talk about Brad.” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and crosses her arms to drive her point home. “You won’t move on unless you talk about the giant elephant in the room.”
“We’ve talked about him.”
“Have you?”
I squint my eyes at her. For someone who was making me feel so bad about myself, she certainly is spinning a different tale.
“What’s changed?”
With a soft shrug, she says, “The way you smile when you look at him. The way he laughs when he talks to you.”
“He rescued Victoria. That girl Kimberly talked about? That was Victoria.”
“Wow.” Her brows rise as she hugs herself. “I feel terrible for not knowing she was doing drugs. I would have done something. I know she has flaws, but she was my friend. Have you seen her since you kicked her out of the bar?”
“No. And I feel awful about it.”
“At least she’s okay. Adam saved her.”
I rub my hands along my face. “He knew I wasn’t lying, and he still kept me to this terrible probation.”
“Is it legally binding?”
“No. It was a promise.” I rub my eyes with the bottoms of my palms. “I’m such an idiot. How did I not know this was all a ruse?”
“Maybe you were looking for an excuse to be around him?”
“Sounds more like he was looking for an excuse to be around me.”
“Yeah,” she says with a smirk. “It sure does.” Placing her hands in her back pockets, she takes out a set of keys and tosses them on the desk. “Someone paid the balance to get your car fixed, and it wasn’t me.”
There’s a rectangular keychain hanging from the ring. I lift the rectangle in my hands and read the black block letters.
Keep Calm
and
All Right, All Right On.
On the other side is a picture of Matthew McConaughey wearing a baby-blue button-down and a gorgeous smile.
I raise a brow at her. “Adam?”
She grins. “I’ll text Luke and tell him you have your own ride home tonight.”
Twenty-One
The Blue Whore is sitting in the parking lot in the same spot I usually park in. She looks brand-new. The front lights have been replaced, and there is a new black guard in front of the bumper. I put my key in the lock and turn. When I open the door, the most ear-splitting sound screams from the car. I fiddle with the keychain and start hitting buttons on the key fob that weren’t there before the accident. I hit each button until, finally, the Whore stops screaming.
I sit in my car and find it’s been freshly cleaned. I also have a new dashboard, and the radio has been replaced. When I turn the car on, the AC blasts, and the small TV that is now where my radio used to be comes to life. I have a Bluetooth receiver and navigation. A manual on the passenger seat is for a set of airbags, most likely new ones that had to be installed after the accident. The safety upgrades are probably worth more than the car itself.
I put the car in reverse, and the screen on the dash changes. Through the lens of a camera, I can see if anything is behind me on the ground. I use the camera and my eyes to back up, and then I switch gears and head out of the parking lot. It’s the same car I’ve always had, but it has been upgraded with about every safety feature one could install. It is a colossal waste of money. Hopefully, Rory only charged Adam for parts.
Sitting idle at a red light, I should turn right to go home. When the light turns green, I head left. Away from the main shopping district of town and onto the residential streets on the north side of town.
The houses here are larger than the one I grew up in. We had three bedrooms, a modest-sized kitchen, and a brick fireplace. These homes are bigger and more spaced out, the cars in the driveways are more expensive, and the sidewalks aren’t cracked. That’s a shame. Those cracks make for some fun bike riding.
I pull the Blue Whore up to a red brick home. The lights are all off, and the house looks vacant, but I know it is still occupied by two people who lost their eighteen-year-old son to heroin seven years ago.
“You must be Leah,” Brad’s mom said with a hurried tone to her voice.
It was the first time I’d ever been to his house, and she had on an apron with marigolds all over it.
“Brad, your friend’s here,” she called up to him.
But he didn’t respond.
She turned to me. “I have cutlets I don’t want to burn. Just go upstairs. It’s the first door on the right. Tell him dinner will be ready in fi
fteen minutes.”
She left me in the two-story foyer, the wooden staircase before me. I called up to Brad, but there was no answer. I walked up the stairs, taking in the family photos on the wall—all of Brad. His kindergarten, fifth, and eighth grade graduation pictures, fishing with his family, with the family dog, on a speedboat in some island setting—it was all up for proud display. As I got to the top of the stairs, I could hear music. Rap music to be precise. And the closer I got, I found the music was accompanied by a teenage boy’s voice.
I walked to the first door on the right. It was partially closed, about eight inches of the door open for me to look in. And I was so glad it was.
Through the opening, I saw Brad in his room with a baseball cap on backward. He was standing in front of a mirror, rapping into it like he was Eminem or part of Wu-Tang Clan. His hands were open and flat, pointing toward the mirror. His best gangsta face was set, and he was spitting out the words pretty well—until he wasn’t. He got tongue-tied. He bent down and started scrolling through his computer. Reading the lyrics a few times, he reset the song and started again.
I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle.
He was trying to memorize the lyrics. It was quite adorable.
His mouth pursed, he gave himself a sexy mug and started reciting the lyrics again. My head was bobbing in the hallway, as I got into the song as well. My dance troupe had just done a performance using the same song, so I knew it by heart. Honestly, I was pretty sick of it, but watching Brad was making me love it…a lot.
He got past the part he had messed up, and I couldn’t help but clap, causing him to spin around, his back hitting the mirror.
I danced my way in and laughed as he covered his face with two hands. His bright red cheeks shone behind his fingers. Not having any of this embarrassment, I grabbed his hands and pulled them from his face. He tilted his head in shyness, but he had a broad smile on his face.
The music was still playing, the chorus coming up. And, now, it was my turn to embarrass myself.
“There she goes with the bom, bom, bom,” I sang as I did the steps to my dance routine. “Her hips, they sway with the bom, bom, bom.”
