“Is this what you needed to talk with me about?” I asked in a cracking voice. “Did you gather all this information about me, Joey?”
“I told you I needed some time to take care of some things, to talk to you….”
“What kinds of thing?” I demanded.
“Business things.”
“And are business things why you took off so quickly after you slept at my place the other day? In my bed? What were you doing, Joey, when you didn’t call me?”
“Some work for my dad.”
“Work for your dad. The big real estate developer. What did he ask you to do? To seduce me so you could manipulate me?”
“He just wanted me to figure out who was stalling his development plans. And why.”
“Oh. So seducing me was just, what? Your own little bonus?”
“Turns out it wasn’t that much of a bonus.” His face filled with regret the second the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late.
“Get. Out.”
“Tucker—”
I swung open the bedroom door and pointed. “I don’t know why I didn’t see the connection before. You must think I’m an idiot. Out.”
“No, I—”
“You were working me on behalf of your father this whole time. You know what I don’t get, though?” I didn’t give him time to respond. “Why make so much of an effort? Why dangle the money from the poker night in my face? You could have just walked away after everything I told you at the community center. Why go the extra mile of making me care about you, or for making me think you care?” I shoved the folder at him. “Do you know what this will do to my campaign to save the community center?” I shook my head. “Of course you do. That’s the point, isn’t it? You can tell your father his plan won’t stop me from trying. All the bad press in the world won’t.”
“Please, Tucker.”
“Whatever lie you’re about to spout off…keep it to yourself.”
I slammed the door and slid down against the wall, feeling like my chest was going to cave in.
* * *
I let myself wallow in self-pity for an hour before I decided I needed a distraction. I grabbed the box with the dress in it and made my way downtown, not even caring that I was using the work van for personal reasons.
The store was a posh one, and as I came in carrying the box, the sales clerk gave my attire a startled looked.
“Can I help you?” asked the girl.
I felt my face redden in embarrassment.
Someone shouldn’t have to dress up to come shopping, I thought irritably.
“You can tell me where the returns counter is,” I mumbled.
The girl’s eyebrows—plucked to near nonexistence and then drawn back on with dark liner—shot up in surprise. She looked at the box in my arms. It was marked with gardening dirt and a bit crushed, but the store logo was still clear on the front.
“I need to bring this back,” I added.
“Was it a gift?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s not my style.”
“Well, we’re happy to take it back, but without the original sales receipt, we only give store credit,” she told me.
“I don’t need store credit,” I replied with as much patience as I could muster.
“We can’t give cash back…” She trailed off and pursed her lips.
If my cheeks had felt warm before, they were on fire now.
“I don’t want money,” I said a little too loudly.
The sales clerk smiled doubtfully. “Miss, I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.”
The corners of my eyes burned, and I had to bite my lip to keep from bursting into tears.
Get a grip, Tucker. Grab a hold of your plucky self-reliance and put this girl in her place.
“Is there a problem?”
I glanced up at the sound of the familiar voice.
Amber. Of course she shops here.
The sales clerk obviously recognized her, too. “Ms. Knowles, this girl wants to return a dress without a receipt.”
“Tucker?” Amber said to me.
So she did know my real name.
“It was a gift,” I explained. “But I can’t accept something like this.”
Amber took the box from my hands and opened it. “It’s pretty. This store has a terrible return policy. The good ones track their sales online and don’t need a receipt—they can just look up the credit card information and do it that way.”
I covered a smile. I didn’t bother to think about why she was sticking up for me. I was just glad to see the tables turned on the snooty girl who refused to take back the dress.
“Keep the dress,” Amber instructed. “I’ll speak to the owner myself.”
The other girl’s face paled.
Amber tapped her own chin thoughtfully. “In fact…put the dress on. The only reason I’m in this store is to get my makeup done. I’m sure that Tamara here will call down to the spa and make sure that they have room for you, too. On the house, of course.”
I tried to protest, but in minutes I was sitting in an oversize leather recliner while three girls hovered around me, applying makeup, nail polish and hairspray. And within an hour I was handing over the keys to the work truck to a professional driver to drop off at the dorm, and climbing into a stretch limo with my third glass of champagne in my hand.
“All right,” Amber said with a sigh. “What gives with the dress? It’s perfect for you. Why would you return it? In fact, why aren’t you out there trying to marry the guy who bought it for you?”
“I didn’t say it was a guy,” I pointed out.
“Oh, please. That sexy little number? It’s not something a friend or relative buys.”
I looked down guiltily at the dress. It fit me like a glove, and it was hands down the slinkiest, sexiest, most out of character thing I’d ever put on.
Amber topped up my glass again and gave me a stiff smile.
“Joey?” she asked.
His name made my heart seize, but I shook my head and made myself answer calmly. “An ex.”
Her face relaxed. “Well your ex has taste, at least.”
“Hardly,” I muttered.
“Just be glad it didn’t come from Joey. Nothing comes from him without a price.”
“That’s how I pick my men, apparently.”
She gave a little laugh. “So you do like him.”
“No.” I paused, trying to decide if the champagne was making me a little too forthcoming.
“Oh, c’mon. I recognize the Joey Fox heartbreak in your eyes. I’ve seen that look more than a few times,” she told me.
“You guys aren’t a…thing?”
“I don’t know if you could call what we have a thing.” She shook her head. “If he ever settled down, maybe I’d consider it. He’s rich. And good looking. Hot, even. But…”
“But what?”
Amber frowned. “He’s got too many issues.”
I tried to laugh, and couldn’t quite manage it.
“Has he told you about the weird arrangement with his dad?” Amber asked. “It’s messed up. But it’s not really my business to say. You should ask him about it.”
I stared at her through my increasingly blurred eyes. Was she serious? Or just trying to get a reaction from me? Did she know something about the folder and what it contained? I couldn’t tell.
“I don’t think we’ll be talking about anything anytime soon,” I stated.
She squeezed my hand. “Better for you that way.”
The limo stopped abruptly and Amber tapped my glass.
“Drink up, Tucker,” she said. “This band is gonna rock it.”
I downed the rest of my wine, hiccupped loudly, and followed her out of the car. We bypassed the big line at the front of the club and walked straight up to the front, where the bouncer smiled and let us in without a word.
The inside of the club wasn’t as packed as the line outside would’ve indicated, and after a few minutes of walki
ng through the sparse crowd, I realized that this was because it actually hadn’t opened yet. A few bored-looking patrons were seated at small tables near the stage, sipping from tall glasses and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres. Several more-excited people were gathered around the stage itself, and when they moved aside, I got a view of a group of punked-out guys who were tuning their instruments.
“The band,” Amber told me with a nudge and an eye roll. “And their groupies.”
She handed me another drink, and I trailed behind her through the bar, letting myself be introduced to people whose faces and names blurred together quickly.
Soon, the classier servers gave way to scantily clad ones. More and more people came through the door until the building was packed and a guy on stage was suddenly shouting “ONE-TWO-THREE!” The whole place began to bob up and down in time with music that was one part punk and one part reggae.
I couldn’t see Amber anywhere and I shook my head, ignoring the little spin my vision did. I wanted some fresh air. I pushed my way past a pack of girls dressed head to toe in leather, and was about to dart for the exit when I spotted Joey.
Why is he here? I wondered. Had Amber known he would be?
I moved toward him, an angry speech forming quickly in my mind. But as I got closer, I got a better look at him. And at his table. There were seven or eight empty shot glasses in front of him, and as I watched the server brought another. Joey tipped it back and slammed it down with a grimace. His gaze fixed past me, on the stage, and I could see the pain in his eyes.
I took another step toward him, then stopped. A beautiful woman, twice his age, and way overdressed for the club, plopped herself into Joey’s lap. I waited for him to push her away. I willed him to do it. Instead, he put his hands on her thighs and slid her over to one knee. I didn’t wait to see what would happen next. I turned and fled.
Joey
I should’ve banged down Tucker’s door as soon as she slammed it in my face. Instead, I let the fight give me an excuse to fall back into self-pity. I glanced at my watch, checking to see if it was early enough for me to start drinking. Then I laughed. I was finally no longer required to keep to my dad’s schedule.
So instead of begging Tucker for forgiveness, I was hopping from bar to bar, downing shots at an alarming rate. The latest one had music so loud it almost drowned out my self-pitying, internal monologue.
“You alone?”
I looked up, trying to focus on the voice. I was more than half-cut, and the woman in front of me was a blurry mess.
“Hey,” I slurred the word into three syllables, then tried harder to form a coherent sentence. “Yep. It appears that I am…unattached.”
“Enjoying the music?”
“The music’s all right.” I took a big gulp of my beer.
“Only all right?”
“Yes. But I am having a bit of a hard time seeing the band at the moment.”
I smiled, but I doubted there was a trace of humor in my eyes. The woman didn’t notice. She just got comfortable, and seated herself right in my lap.
“How about now?” she asked.
“Uh oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can’t reach my drink.”
I grabbed her by the legs and shoved her over.
“Easy now,” she laughed, shook her hair in my face, and settled on my knee. “I’m a bit breakable”
For the first time, I really focused her features. Pale skin. Copper hair. Huge breasts.
“You a natural redhead?” I asked.
“Not much about me that’s natural,” she teased. “Hair color included.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with a natural one. A redhead, that is.”
She sat back.
“What?” I asked. “I’m as surprised by it as you are.”
The woman trailed her fingers along my collarbone. “If you’re in love with her…why are you here?”
I drank a long pull of my beer. “I’m not good enough for her.”
“You seem good enough to me.”
“Trust me. I’m not even good enough for you.”
She finally stood up, put her hands on her hips, and gave me a final stare down.
“If you really don’t think you’re good enough for me, or anyone else…maybe you should do something about it.”
She flounced away, and I didn’t bother to go after her.
“You’re right,” I muttered, and headed out to find a cab.
* * *
A thirty-something girl in pajamas answered the door on my third knock. She slid out into the hall, closed the door, and pressed her back against it.
“Are you trying to get us kicked out?” she hisses.
“Liandra, I presume.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Sad, pretty smile,” I replied.
She sniffed irritably. “You reek like booze.”
“I’m here for Tucker.”
“She’s finally asleep. And even if she was awake, there’s no way in hell I’d let you see her.”
“Whatever she told you about me…it’s not true.”
“You didn’t get to know her on behalf of your dad under the pretence of friendship?” Liandra demanded.
“At first…” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “No.”
“No? You didn’t then seduce her and break her heart?”
“The first time I saw her, I didn’t even know who she was. That was before I knew what my dad wanted, and I still thought she was beautiful.”
“You can stow your sad, pretty smile. It won’t work on me.”
“Would you just let me explain?”
“You have about ten seconds before I slam this door and call security.”
“Tell her that the whole time we were together, I’d already made up my mind to help her instead of my dad. Tell that she convinced me.”
“Convinced you of what?”
“That things can be both meaningful and fun.”
Liandra’s face softened just a little bit.
“Please,” I said. “Just tell her I’m sorry, and I wish she’d let me tell her that.”
“A wedding,” she whispered.
“What?”
“She’s going to a wedding with that asshole ex of her. Tomorrow evening at Saint Agnes.”
Mark. Shit. I needed to stop her from doing something she’d regret.
I leaned over and gave Liandra a chaste kiss. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
She gave a quick nod, and closed the door.
Friday
Tucker
“You’re really going through with this?”
It was the third time Liandra had asked the question, and it was starting to grate on my nerves.
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “I am.”
“You look like shit,” she observed.
“Thank you so much. I’m aware. It may have something to do with my excessive drinking last night. I’m going to put on five pounds of makeup and hope for the best.”
I’d explained, without too much detail, the events of the night before, and Liandra hadn’t pressed too hard for anything further. Maybe my bedraggled appearance spoke for itself. Or maybe she was more concerned with the fact that I was going to the wedding with Mark. She’d been harping on about it since I stumbled inside, and confessed that I’d drunk dialed him and agreed to be his date.
“Are you going to stand there all day, staring blankly into the closet?” she asked.
“I’m not staring blankly. I’m deciding what to wear.”
“Not the yellow one,” my roommate suggested.
“I don’t even have a yellow one.”
“So you’re all settled then.”
I gave her a dirty look and tossed the dress I’d been holding—blue, not yellow—onto the bed beside the pile of other
dresses.
“Why do you even care?”
I sighed. “I want closure.”
“Since when?”
“Since I figured out that there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Liandra protested.
“Isn’t there? Then how come I keep setting myself up for failure with these guys who just let me down. At least from Mark, the disappointment is an expectation.”
“Do you really think it’s going to be that easy to get him to tell you why he slept with a hooker?”
“No. But if he doesn’t give me the explanation he promised, I’ll make a scene.”
Liandra grinned. “Then I half hope he doesn’t tell you.”
“You would.”
“I do,” she agreed.
I sighed. “And to be honest, I’d rather just get it over with. I’m too tired to fight about backing out.”
“I told you Joey came by, right?”
“About sixty times.”
“I just think you might want to hear him out before going to the wedding with Mark. He seemed so…sincere.”
“You know what, Liandra? If I don’t say goodbye to Mark on my own terms, I might never be able to move on. With Joey, or anybody.”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully and snapped her fingers. “My red wiggle dress.”
“Your what?”
She was already digging through her closet, tossing around wrinkled T-shirts and pants.
“Aha!” she said, and pulled out a pristine red dress with the tags still on.
I eyed it critically. It looked about as wide around as my pinky.
“Just try it,” Liandra urged. “I won’t peek.”
She covered her eyes theatrically and handed me the dress.
“Wiggle dress,” I muttered as I squeezed myself into it, “Might be a bit of generous description.”
“It’s perfect!”
Liandra uncovered her eyes and smiled approvingly at me. She reached over and yanked the tags off.
I turned to the door length mirror and gave myself a once over. The dress had a narrow, V-shaped neckline that hinted at cleavage rather than screamed about it. A skinny, white, patent leather belt cinched the high waistline. The rest of the dress hugged my hips in a way that was either flattering, or obscene. I couldn’t decide which.
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