Three Months and You're Mine (In Too Deep)

by McMillin, Casey

"I know you'll do great."

  "Thanks."

  She leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek. It seemed slightly awkward since we'd just kissed on the mouth several times, but neither of us made a move to go for more. She left the room and I heard her footsteps as she went down the hall. Seconds later I also heard her talking to my mom, although all I could make out was a low murmur of their voices. She stayed for a few minutes before I heard the close of the door behind her.

  My mom came in less than a minute later to get the scoop. Even though I'd had other female visitors since the accident, my mom never assumed I had anything going on with the others. She was full of questions about Meredith, though, asking me what she was doing living in L.A., and why she'd come to see me twice already without her brother. I artfully dodged her questions, never indicating that I was interested, but never denying it either. I went to sleep thinking about Meredith Blake that night and hoping she'd make something of herself at that soap opera. I always loved an underdog story, and I thought Meredith had enough tenacity to beat the odds in show business.

  Chapter 15

  Meredith

  That Friday, I had a meeting with my boss, Max Mitchell, and can I just say… I knocked it out of the freaking park! I'd only been working on the show for two weeks, but I had instincts with production that I felt shouldn't be ignored. I spent the better part of the last week putting together notes and ideas. Some of the things I brought up were small, like ways to make hair and makeup flow better simply by switching the seating arrangements. Other things were bigger, like story lines. I had an idea for a Wentworth family reunion that would be the perfect way to introduce this character who'd turn out to be a love interest for Ashton.

  Some of the things I said would inevitably get swept under the rug, but Max really liked my insights, and didn't hesitate to tell me I'd be moving up the ranks quickly if I kept up the same level of hustle. I was on cloud nine as I drove home from work that day. I listened to loud music and sang at the top of my lungs, not even caring that I was stuck in traffic for an hour.

  I had plans to hang out with my brother and Rachel and all of their friends that night. We were getting together at Gretchen's house. She had a game room where we could play pool or darts. Collin said they tried to get together once a month or so, and usually they did it at Joel and Gretchen's since their house was the biggest.

  I was hoping Zack would grace us with his presence that night. I knew it was a long shot, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought he might show up. I wanted to tell him how my meeting went, and it would have been so nice to do it in person. I knew everyone else would be excited for me, but I was really looking forward to telling Zack.

  Zack didn't show up. All night, I expected him to come rolling in or walking in on crutches or however he was getting around, but he never came. I knew he could have physically made it to Gretchen's house, and the fact that he chose not to stop by made me feel a little irritated with him. Maybe I was just mad because I wanted to see him and hoped he wanted to see me too, but I assumed if that were the case, he would have sent me a text by then anyway.

  I got madder and madder as the evening went on. At first, I was upset that he wasn't showing up to Gretchen's, and then I started feeling hurt that he hadn't even remembered to send me a message asking how my meeting went.

  I went to bed angry with him that night, and didn't really feel much better the whole next day. It was Saturday, and I had plans to go out with Chelsea from work. She and I had gone out the previous weekend as well, and I was having a good time getting in trouble with her.

  She and I had plans to meet up at one of her friend's house. She didn't tell me that her friend was an old, eccentric millionaire who liked to have young people over to party. Once I arrived, and started looking to her for answers, she told me she liked to start her evening at Mike's if he was having a party because there were so many drugs going around. She was right. I was offered three different things during the first hour.

  Chelsea, who was absolutely crazy, ingested or smoked everything that was passed to her. I wasn't quite that brave (or stupid), and only popped one pill. The guy who gave it to me said it wouldn't mess me up too bad, but an hour later, I found myself lost, wandering around his house with no idea where Chelsea was. Come to think of it, I didn't know where anything was.

  I patted my sides, checking for my purse, and was relieved to find it securely strapped to my shoulder. I dug through it, feeling like my fingers were somewhat numb and clumsy. When I finally retrieved my phone, I stared down at it, thankful for the sense of familiarity in the drug-induced chaos that was happening in my brain. I got an email from Macy's saying they were doing a friends and family sale, and I clicked on the link underneath a photo of a pair of boots I thought were cute. I stared at the boots in chestnut brown for a few long seconds and even had time to picture them with an outfit before I realized I was lost from my friend at a weird guy's house. I looked up from my phone and took in my surroundings. How had I ended up in the kitchen? And how would I ever spot Chelsea in this ever-lovin sea of people? I'm not sure how long it took to hit me that I had a phone in my hand and I could just call her. One thing about Chelsea was that she answered her phone no matter what, and right then I was so thankful that I could depend on her to pick up. It took me way too long to find her number in my contacts, but once I accomplished that task, I pressed the button to call and put the phone to my ear.

  Chelsea: "What are you doing? Are you still at this, give that back you little fucker." I heard a thump and then, "Hello, Meredith? Are you still at this party? It's my friend. Shut up!"

  Me: "Hello, Chelsea? I'm still at the party. Are you?" I had a finger in my other ear in an effort to hear her over the noise. Or maybe that noise was in my head. Either way, it was noisy. "Chelsea?"

  Chelsea: "Yeah, it's me. Where are you?"

  It took Chelsea and I a really long time to find each other even though turns out we were only one room apart the whole time.

  "Where in the world were you?" she asked. I could tell by the way she swayed instead of just standing still that she was really messed up. I wondered if I was as blasted as her and I looked down, giving myself a once-over just to be sure. I thought I must surely be better off than Chelsea, and I took some comfort in that idea alone.

  Looking back, I should have known how messed up I was. I should have just called it a night and made an effort to get home. But I caught sight of this guy a few feet away who was all tatted up. When I say he was tatted up, I mean just about all of his exposed skin was covered in ink. Even totally sober, I loved the looks of tattoos, but in the state I was in right then, I absolutely loved, was over the moon about that guy's tattoos.

  Upon closer inspection, I could see that he had the word freedom in script on his neck. I'd always liked neck tattoos and that one looked especially sexy on him. I also really identified with the word freedom and maybe it was the drugs, but with the way that tattoo was hitting me right then, I felt like it was a sign from God that I should get the word freedom tattooed on my neck.

  I looked to Chelsea.

  "Come with me to get a tattoo."

  "What like right now?" she asked.

  "I was thinking about it. Why? Do you think it's a bad idea?"

  "No, I think it be a freaking awesome idea. I just don't know if anyone here can do anything like that."

  "Well I wouldn't be getting anyone here to do it now would I? I said come with me to get a tattoo. Did you think I wanted to go in the bathroom with a Bic pen and a sewing needle?"

  "Shut up!" Chelsea said. I could tell she was embarrassed, but she was too messed up to care for very long.

  "We have to go to a tattoo shop."

  "Okay, I'm in. What are you gonna get?"

  "I'm getting the word freedom."

  "Nice. Where?"

  "I don’t know. I was hoping you'd know a place."

  "How about on your butt cheek?"

  "What? Oh, I get it
. I thought you meant where I was getting it, as in what tattoo shop. That's what I was hoping you could help me with. I know where on my body I'm getting it."

  "Where?"

  "On my neck."

  "Like that dude?" she pointed at my inspiration.

  "Yeah. What do you think?"

  "I think it's an awesome idea you little hot mamacita."

  "Really? You do? You wanna go do it?"

  "Hell yeah. We have to find a shop that's open."

  Chelsea and I managed to find a shop that was not only open but also willing to take a walk in. We promised the guy we were on our way and left the party immediately. I drove, which might have been a stupid thing to do, but we somehow made it to the tattoo shop in one piece. I told the tattooer what I wanted, and chose a font similar to the script I'd seen on the guy at the party. It was going to be roughly an inch and a half tall and four inches wide, wrapping from the side of my neck to the front.

  He asked me ten or twelve times if I was fully committed to getting a tattoo on such an obvious part of my body, and Chelsea helped me reassure him that it was a good idea. She told him I'd been talking about it for months even though I'd only known her for a couple of weeks and had come up with the idea of getting the tattoo tonight.

  Anyway, after some convincing, she managed to get him to leave me alone with the questions. He said the work would cost $280, which seemed a little steep, but what other option did I have in the middle of the night? I told him I only had $230 in cash on me. It was the truth, but I was also hoping he'd say he'd do the work for less. I knew they didn't take credit cards, so I expected him to say $230 would cover it. He didn’t say that. Instead, he told me I could walk around the corner to the ATM while he finished setting up.

  Chelsea came with me.

  "I can't believe he's charging me two hundred and eighty dollars for that," I said, on the way to get cash.

  "Is that a lot?"

  "It seems like it. I mean, that's not a really big tattoo."

  "Yeah, but it's on your neck. Maybe that's harder to operate on."

  "It's not an operation."

  "Whatever. He is sort of hot, don't you think? In a sort of dirty way, you know. He's all mean and mysterious."

  I honestly hadn't noticed how mean or mysterious the guy was; I just knew he was charging me three hundred Goddang dollars for a tattoo. Maybe that did make him mean. I keyed in my pin number and the rest of the information the machine needed, and waited for my cash. We were in downtown Los Angeles, and even though it was the middle the night, there were people passing us on the sidewalk as I used the ATM.

  "Hey, I know you," a voice said from behind me. I turned to see a guy who's face did indeed look familiar, although I couldn't for the life of me figure out where I seen him. "You were in a limousine with my friend Zack."

  My initial reaction to hearing a guy's voice from behind me while I was holding cash at an ATM was that I was just about to be robbed, so it took me a second to trust him enough to make sense of the words he said. When was I in a limo with a Zack? And who's this guy who thinks he saw me there? But wait, I was in a limo with Zack the night of our birthday. Oh yeah, this guy must be his friend who peeked in and talked about those girls Zack was partying with. I didn't think I liked him very much.

  "Logan. My name's Logan. Remember? I tried to get Zack to stay out with me that night? Zack's my boy."

  "He got in an accident that night," I said without thinking.

  "I know that, Kitty Cat. It was all over the news. How's he doing? Is he your man?"

  Chelsea looked at me with great interest.

  "No," I said. "We're just friends, and he's doing good as far as I know."

  "That's good, that's good. So, uh, what are you two beautiful ladies doing roaming the streets by yourselves?"

  I couldn't really remember why we were roaming the streets exactly, but I was sure it was going to be fun.

  "Meredith's getting a tattoo," Chelsea said.

  Oh yeah, that's right.

  "Yep, I'm getting a tattoo."

  "Aw, that's too bad because I'm meeting my friend Thad who's got the good stuff tonight."

  I was reasonably sure by good stuff he meant more drugs, but my head was swimming already, courtesy of the mystery pill.

  Chelsea must have liked the idea of getting the good stuff, whatever that was, or she just liked Logan because she got all giggly and flirty. "You want to come with us to get her tattoo before we hook up with your friend?" she asked.

  "Na, I'm not about to sit in a tattoo shop all night even if you two are on fiya, which you are. Why don't y'all just ditch the tattoo and come with me? My car's two blocks away and Thad's waiting."

  "Is he as hot as you?" Chelsea asked, weighing her options.

  "I can't tell you whether or not he's hot because that would be kind of gay, but I will tell you we share a lot of girls, and none of them have complaints about how Thad looks."

  Chelsea looked at me as if she couldn't imagine a harder choice than the one we had in front of us at that very moment—neck tattoo, or Logan with the good stuff? I shrugged, feeling like I could go either way.

  After some brief deliberation, and the news that Logan drove a nice car, I made the call to go with him instead of getting the tattoo. I made that choice partly because I thought he was really cute, and partly because the tattoo guy's warnings had started to sink in and I was slightly reluctant to go through with the tattoo. Chelsea was really into the idea of me getting it, so I was going to go through with it, but honestly, having Logan as an excuse was somewhat a relief.

  Chapter 16

  Zack

  Me: "I heard you went out with Logan."

  I sent the text in the middle of the afternoon on Monday, so I figured I wouldn't hear back from Meredith until she got off work. I received a text ten seconds later.

  Meredith: "Yeah, and I'm indebted to him for freaking life."

  Me: "How so?"

  Meredith: "Boss. Text later."

  What the hell?

  It was three hours later when I heard from her again.

  Meredith: "So sorry. I didn't expect Max to be on set, but he showed up and I couldn't really be staring at my phone in front of him."

  Me: "No worries. I'm curious about Logan, though. Did he save your life or something?"

  Meredith: "Just about. I was seconds away from getting a big tattoo on my emmer effing neck and he swooped in and saved the day."

  Me: "A neck tattoo?"

  Meredith: "Yeah. I think they're all right on other people, but I would have really regretted it."

  Me: "I'm glad Logan could help. He didn't say anything about the tattoo, but he said you guys had fun."

  Meredith: "We did."

  A few minutes passed while I was stuck considering how I felt about Meredith seeing Logan.

  Meredith: "Can I stop by?"

  Me: "Now?"

  Meredith: "Yeah."

  Me: "Sure."

  Meredith: "Be there in an hour."

  I did a lot of thinking during that hour. I tried to understand the feelings I was having about Meredith going out with other guys. About forty-five minutes in, it hit me.

  She could go out with whoever the bloody hell she wanted. Who was I to care what Meredith Blake did with her free time? She could go out with Logan or anyone else for that matter. After all, the whole point of the three-month wait was that I was hoping she'd rethink wanting to sleep with me so I wouldn't be faced with the whole dilemma, right? I did some major soul searching while she was on her way to my house, and by the time she got there, I was feeling the best I had since the accident.

  "So I was thinking," I said, "I think it was a mistake for us to mess around the other day."

  "Oh yeah? Why? You don't like messing around?"

  "It's not that, it's just that there's really no point in teasing ourselves if we're not going to back it up, and I really do think it's best for us to wait it out."

  She stared straigh
t ahead, looking a bit hurt, but I didn't say a thing. I just waited to see what her response would be. "I'm okay with that," she said, surprising me. "I mean, it is a bit awkward since we've already made out and I've touched your willy and everything, but we can go back to friends if you want."

  I didn't quite know if that was what I wanted her to say, but it would have seemed really weird to reconsider after I'd just said it.

  "Yeah, we can, uh, still think about the three month thing if you're still into it when the time's up, but until then, you should see if you can make something happen with someone else. You know, someone who could be more to you than a teacher."

  "You mean like Logan?"

  "I don't think Logan's necessarily a good choice, but if he's what floats your boat, then go for it."

  She laughed. "Logan doesn't float my boat. It doesn't take a genius to see that he's not really boyfriend material."

  "So, you're looking for a boyfriend now?"

  "No, I'm okay with casual, I'd just like to avoid getting involved with someone who sleeps with a different girl every weekend."

  I didn't tell her that she was basically describing me, mostly because I didn’t think I deserved to be put into the same category as Logan. "I really do want the best for you, Mere, and even though I like him, I think it's wise to stay away from Logan."

  "What about you? Would I be wise to avoid you too?"

  I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. That's pretty much where I was going with this whole conversation in the first place."

  "Because guys like you and Logan can't be trusted, right?"

  "Right."

  "Are you backing out of the agreement, then?"

  "No, but I'm just being honest with you when I tell you you'd be better off finding someone else between now and then and cancelling our little tutoring session before it ever happens."

  "And I'm supposed to forget everything that's already happened."

  "That'd be ideal," I said.

  "Hey Zack?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I know this will probably come out pretty desperate, but can we still be friends? You know, hang out? Besides Chelsea, most of the people I know in L.A. are married or might as well be. I'd love it if we could just chill together. I promise I won't put the moves on you."