“You can stay as long as you need to.”
“You mean it?”
“Of course. Didn’t you hear me? You’re all I have left. You’re my sister.”
She got up and squeezed the death out of me. “Thank you, Amy! I promise to get my shit together as fast as I can. I’m going to find a job, maybe at Riverside Theatre. I’ll sell tickets if I can’t act there. Whatever it takes. I just want to not have to feel so miserable. And I want a relationship with you again.”
I moved my arms up around her back and gave her a hug. Second chances, right? If I was willing to do it with Wesley, I had to do it with Ashley.
When I walked back into the bedroom, Wesley was already out of the shower. He was lying in bed, a look full of guilt mixed with seduction on his face.
“I’m not in the mood, Wesley.”
As if I was earlier.
“That’s fine. I’m just happy to lie close to you all night.”
Oh brother. Who was this man? Who needed Wonder Woman powers—catching a man in a lie gave a girl all the power she needed. With Wesley, I had a lifetime’s supply.
I came home the next evening to find Wesley and my sister cooking dinner. So much for him not ever being stupid again. The house was smoky and smelled like a Mexican cantina. There were flour tortillas on the counter and salsa with chips by the stove. They were both munching as they worked on whatever creation this was. I’d be picking up stray shreds of lettuce for the next month.
“Hello. I’m home.” I tried to speak louder than the music they had playing on Ashley’s boom box. They both were belting out the lyrics to tunes from the nineties.
“Hey!” Wesley held up a spatula to wave hi.
“Ames, we have tequila and limes. Want a shot?” She held up the bottle.
“No, I’m good.” I looked around at my once-clean kitchen. Grocery bags sat on both the counters and floors. Boxes of Little Debbie’s sat on top of the microwave, sharing space with my rice cakes. Two bottles of liquor sat gleaming next to the blender and tons of bags of chips filled the other spaces: cheese munchies and barbeque rounds. I had entered a frat house.
“So, you hungry?” she blurted.
“Kind of. I was going to make chicken and rice tonight. I set the chicken out to thaw.”
She grabbed her mouth. “Oh my gosh!”
“What?”
“I looked at the date on it and tossed it in the trash.”
“It was thawing, Ashley. It was still good.”
“See, I know little about that whole thawing method. That’s why I go daily for food.”
“Well, I can’t, as I have a job.”
“Okay, let’s just eat what Ashley bought. No need in talking about things that are already done. I’m sure she is sorry for doing that. Everyone makes mistakes.”
Wesley kissed me on the forehead as he waved that stupid spatula around in my face. This was already not working out. Since when did Wesley know what the knobs on the stove were used for? Where even the pots and pans were kept?
“I thought you had no money, Ashley. How did you pay for these groceries?”
“Wesley loaned me some.”
I looked at Wesley. He darted back to the stove and stirred whatever was in the skillet. Funny how he couldn’t cook for me ever before when I came home from work. I guess it took my sister to be home and sporting around in her little boy shorts and tight shirt. My teeth gritted just looking at her. I wanted to love her like a sister should. But did she have to be so Playboy bunny-like and fun to be around? My living and breathing opposite.
“Babe, you want the first fajita?” he asked me.
“Mexican doesn’t agree with me. I’ll just make myself a sandwich.” And choke on it because I ate one for lunch, too.
“That’s right. Now that you mention it, I remember you never wanting to go to El Churro’s again because it made you sick.”
Give the man a prize! He does have a brain.
“In fact, I’ll eat it in the living room. The smoke is a bit much in here.” I waved an area clear in front of where I stood.
I grabbed the bread and meat from the fridge and took it to the living room. I chomped on every bite, waiting for the man of my dreams to come and join me. Because how depressing is it that someone eats in the living room—alone.
After I couldn’t take hearing the frolicking any longer, I went back in to the love fest. Should it upset me that my sister is having fun with Wesley? He was still my husband, right? My feelings for him would come back, I was sure of it.
“Hey, are you all almost finished?”
I noticed Wesley was drinking with Ashley. She was such a bad influence on him.
“Not quite. Try one, Amy. I’m sure your stomach won’t blow up.”
I sneered at her and quickly caught myself. “No, really. I’m good. That sandwich was enough.” May I never see ham again. I’d had it all week for lunch.
“Are you having any luck with the job search?” I put my trash away, hoping they’d remember the location of the receptacle and reciprocate.
“It’s only been a day, Amy.”
“So you didn’t even look today?”
“I went to the store.”
I turned around and found her throwing another shot back. Then I looked at Wesley, who seemed smitten by the whole sight. Jobless, half-naked girl drinking liquor. If he thought I was going to transform into this, he needed to rethink it.
“Oh. Well, do you have plans to look tomorrow?” I controlled my urge to hit her on the back of the head.
“Tomorrow is Friday. Who is looking to hire on Friday?”
I worked on taking deep breaths. “I don’t know. Someone, perhaps, looking for an employee. It doesn’t really matter what day you look, Ashley.”
“I’m on eHarmony now. Do they have something like that for job searches?”
Dear Lord, tell me she isn’t related to me. Tell me she didn’t get the looks and I took all the ability to reason and the brains from the shared womb. How completely unfair.
“Yes, Ashley. They do have a site for job searches. I’ll show you after dinner.”
“Why are you on eHarmony?” Wesley asked, after stuffing his face with the rolled concoction they’d come up with.
“To find someone, you jerk.” She shoved his shoulder, making him drop his fajita on the plate.
“Jerk?” He hit her back on the leg. Her naked leg. Remember, she had on boy shorts. As if there wasn’t a full-length set of pants somewhere in the five bags she brought with her sorry self.
“That’s a good idea.” I was all for her finding someone. And moving out with said victim. “You know, Jim Huntington was asking about you.” Poor Jim. Stupid and naive Jim. As crazy as it was, the dumb, nice guy liked Ashley. He asked about her every time I saw him. For what I wasn’t sure, but what the hey. I needed her to be gone. Yesterday. And take the booty shorts with her. The walls of this house were used to seeing sweaters and slippers.
“Jim Huntington?” Wesley spit out some tomato junk they’d sliced in my food processor.
“Yes. What’s wrong with Jim?”
“He’s a jerk, that’s what.”
“What did he ever do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Ashley isn’t going to be calling him.”
Excuse me? Since when did he care who Ashley called or didn’t? Hello? You broke up a couple—or six—years ago. I’m the one you married.
“Hey, doesn’t he own his own store?” She seemed not to be paying any attention to Wesley. Nothing different there with any regard to what he wanted.
“Yeah. It’s an outdoor outfitter store. Hey, he might even have a job vacancy.” Two birds, one stone. I’d like to be the one to throw it at her. God forgive me. Maybe when she moved I’d like her more.
“Hmmm.” She put her finger to her lips. I could see the gears turn from where I stood.
“See, you put something in her head. That guy’s a jerk, Amy.”
My lips pi
nched shut.
“I’ll go and have a talk with him tomorrow. Thanks for the info, Ames.”
I hated when she called me that. Actually, I liked it when we were younger. But considering I had a bad taste of her in my mouth, I didn’t like it anymore.
“Sure. Well, I’m going to go and take my shower. I’m bushed.”
“All right. I’ll be up in a minute.”
I could barely understand him; he had a mouth full of food when he said it.
“Not until he helps in cleaning up this mess.” Ashley pushed his chair with her leg.
I suppose it would’ve bothered me more if I were in my right mind, but all their playfulness with each other just annoyed me. Did either one have any respect for me?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“So Wesley tells me that your stuff is still in a truck, parked at some guy’s house. Is that true?”
Ashley had come into the kitchen while I was cleaning up breakfast. It was such a joy cooking for her and Wesley. One liked their eggs scrambled while the other liked them over easy.
“What? Why is he talking about my things with you?”
“It’s nothing. It’s not like he went out of his way to tell me. But I think it bothers him.”
“You know what bothers me about him?” I caught myself and scrubbed the dish harder with the washcloth.
“What?” She came closer to where I stood at the sink.
“Never mind, Ashley. It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you going to bring your things back?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
I swung around; soap suds dripped off my hand. “Since when do you have a stake in my personal belongings?”
“I don’t. I just want you to be honest with him.”
“Honest? How am I not being honest with him?”
She walked over and pulled out a chair to sit. “The last time I left all my things at my friend’s house, it wasn’t because I forgot them. I knew I wasn’t going to live with Wesley anymore.”
“That was you, Ashley. Not me. I’ve just misplaced the key to the moving van.”
Since when was Wesley confiding in Ashley and not me? Good grief, I knew it was getting old not having the microwave, but really? Stoves were healthier. I tried telling him that a million times.
“Okay, if you say you’ve misplaced the key, you misplaced the key. Whatever.” She twirled her hair and I went back to my dishes. “By the way, I put the mail over by the phone. I think Aunt Diana sent you a card. Do you keep up with her?”
Our Aunt Diana was the last living relative we had. She was Mom’s crazy sister. She moved away from home when she was fifteen years old. Mom said she ran away with her boyfriend and never came back to visit because their father hated her choice in boys. She was more or less shunned by my grandparents, and after we heard her husband died, Mom reached out to her. It was only after Mom died that she began to send me Christmas cards.
“She sends a card every year. I usually send one back, but I didn’t this year.”
“Does she still live in South Dakota?”
“South Carolina. And yes, she does.”
I jumped when Wesley bolted into the kitchen, his face a crazy red.
“Amy, did you forget about the benefit dinner tonight? Crap!” He wrestled his fingers through his hair. “Nick just text messaged me. I have to go. You have to go. It’s for the Arts Museum. We have clients involved with the event.”
“I’d like to go.” Everything on Ashley perked up as she squealed from her chair.
“Ashley, there’s an event every evening. Especially this time of year.” I was so sick of parties. All I did last night was think about Tom’s party. I wanted to call and wish him luck, but I refrained. Kate stopped me in the hall at work and told me how excited she was to go. When I told her I wasn’t, she seemed shocked. She had no clue I was doing all of this for the sake of her getting her Prince Charming and living happily ever after. Well, that and I was married and on the fast track to pure bliss with Wesley. I thought this while watching my husband scratch himself over by the refrigerator.
“Well, promise me I can go to the next one.” She aimed her comment toward Wesley, who quickly stopped itching.
“I promise.”
“This is a little short notice.” I rolled my eyes. I’d hoped to go out and finish Christmas shopping later. It was four days away, and I still needed a few items.
“Wear something of Ashley’s if you have to.”
Excuse me? “I have something to wear, Wesley.”
“Well, we have to leave at four. Hors d’oeuvres are at four thirty.”
I had a little bit of time then. I’d go to the mall, get squished by the last-minute shoppers, get my things, and return in time to dress. I suppose I’d have to get used to this type of lifestyle. I remember Mom practically lived at charity benefits when Dad was running the firm.
We were twenty minutes late, as expected. The mall was busier than I imagined, and Wesley hogged the bathroom when I was trying to get ready. He urged me to take a shower while he shaved, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. So far I’d found a reason not to make love with him for the past week. Either he came to bed when I was asleep, or he’d been drinking. And party pooper or not, I wasn’t going to make love to a drunk. No thanks.
“Over there is Frank Cabrella. I’m going over to say hello.”
“I think I’ll get a drink.” I looked around at the buzz of people and needed something extra to help get me through the night. Ashley living down the hall from me was wearing thin on my nerves. I heard my mother over and over in my head: “Make nice with your sister; she’s the only one you’ve got.” Plus, Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to kick her to the homeless shelter. Boy, my halo was getting heavy on my head. Just once I wanted to tell her what I thought. About those booty shorts and those large hoop earrings. Did she think anyone was ever going to take her seriously looking like her last job location was at the corner of two intersections in the seedy part of town?
“Can you bring me a whiskey?”
“Sure.” Okay, I thought he didn’t like whiskey, but whatever. We were evolving. Maybe I’d try something different, too.
I made my way to the open bar and waited my turn. People were everywhere. Most of them I didn’t know. This was a different crew of people than I was used to. The artsy kind.
“One whiskey sour and one cranberry with vodka, please.” So much for different. I liked my comfort zone of vodka, it turns out.
I felt someone brush against my arm and turned around. “Tom!”
“I never figured I’d find you at this function, Amy.”
“Me? What are you doing here? This isn’t your speed, either.”
He nodded toward Frank Cabrella, who was talking to Wesley. “That guy there invited me.”
“Frank?” I took the two drinks the bartender was handing me. “Thank you.”
“He came to my party last night.”
“Your company party?” I seemed surprised, but secretly my mind was at his house all night, imagining how it was going. Wanting to go, or at least call him afterward and ask whether it was a success.
“Yes. Which reminds me…where were you? I left you two messages reminding you to come.”
I got them. Listened to them over and over: Amy, my party is tonight, and I was hoping you’d be able to make it. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Who would babysit Sonny and Cher, anyway, if I went?
“I was busy. And wasn’t Kate there? I mean, she was a suitable hostess, wasn’t she?”
Yes! I admit it; I was fishing. I imagined she was there in an elegant gown, wooing everyone who came through the front door. Acting as if she owned the place. Sad thing, she wasn’t that type of woman. She was genuine. Probably shook everyone’s hand while carrying around platters and offering the recipe to the crab dip.
“She was there. Remember, she was the go-between with the caterer.”
Was that all she was? Shame on y
ou, Amy Whitfield.
“Sure.”
We stepped out of the stampede of people on their way to the open bar area.
“Can we talk?”
I had a freak-out moment. We hadn’t “talked” in some time. Not since we spilled our guts about lines being crossed. We were still healing from all that. I hoped by spring we could be well again. I needed his shoulder. Even his ear to tell him about Ashley. I had no one. Exactly what I feared when we danced over the line, leaving me with only blurred vision of what we were to each other. But boy was it nice to dance with him.
“Talk about what?” I wanted to seem aloof. Not at all hanging on the opportunity to talk with him.
He ushered me to a room where foot traffic was light. I carried the two glasses with me.
“It’s about Frank. I think he’s ready to give my law firm a retainer.”
It was no surprise to me. I sensed he liked Tom more than Wesley. Who could take Wesley serious when he only wore a tie on Mondays? He claimed the world was becoming less stuffed and clients were looking for casual Friday, Tuesday through Friday. In his dreams!
“That’s good for you.”
“Yes, but I know Wesley needs his business. I don’t want to take anything from you.”
“Tom, thank you for that. But, you deserve his business. He likes you. He identifies with you. Wesley is still a little green about getting new accounts.”
“I just didn’t want you to be blindsided with it.”
“Not at all. I appreciate you telling me.”
The condensation from my drink dripped onto the ground, and my hand was cold. But I wasn’t moving. I was comfortable standing next to Tom. I paid no attention to the horrendous artwork on the walls. Who splatters paint on a canvas and gets an exhibit, anyway?
“What’s wrong, Amy?”
“What?” Now to act completely fine. I took a sip of my drink. On second thought… I chugged it down.
He laughed. It was so good to see the seriousness fade into laughter. “Come on. Do you think I forgot how to read you?”
“Tom, nothing’s wrong.”
Leaving Amy (Amy #2) Page 21
