I hoped my mother wouldn’t notice as she followed me out to the driveway. I half expected her to inspect the car before I left. It wouldn’t have been unusual.
“Mom, I’m not moving home,” I replied, feeling like I was banging my head into a brick wall.
She waved away my words, pretending I hadn’t said them. “I’ll take you to lunch on Friday. I have a hair appointment. We can meet at the café on 7th.”
I wasn’t sure I could stomach more than one meal a week with my mom. “Fridays are usually my day for interviews,” I excused.
“I’m sure you can rearrange whatever you have planned. It’s not as though you run the magazine or anything,” she dismissed, cutting me down so easily.
I jangled my keys in my hand and started to get twitchy with my need to flee. “No, it’s not like I run the magazine,” I agreed through clenched teeth.
“Okay, well I’ll see you then. Kisses,” she chirped, her smile as fake as mine. She gripped me by the shoulders and air kissed my cheeks.
Finally, I was allowed to escape and I couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Hey, you’re looking decidedly manic today,” Vivian commented after I arrived back home twenty minutes later.
My roommate and friend was on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table with some sort of reality show on in the background and her phone glued between her hands. Her fingers never stopped texting as she looked at me. Her ability to multitask was impressive.
I slammed the door behind me, kicked off my boots and hung up my coat. I joined her on the couch, tucking my ice cold feet under the blanket Viv had draped over her lap.
“Visit with Mommy Dearest,” I explained, grimacing.
Vivian winced. “Ah, okay then.” Her eyes returned to the screen of her phone.
“Cole?” I asked. I really didn’t need to pose it as a question, because Vivian spent at least three hours a day either talking or texting with her boyfriend, Cole Brandt, former male whore, now reformed one woman man, and lead singer of the rock band, Generation Rejects.
Vivian nodded, her fingers moving at a speed almost invisible to the naked eye. “Yeah, the boys are on their way to Pittsburgh,” she responded distractedly. She giggled and by the red flush on her cheeks I figured I didn’t want to know the exact nature of their conversation.
“Pittsburgh, huh? How many more stops do they have on the tour?” I asked. At one time I wouldn’t need to ask Vivian for secondhand knowledge about anything involving the band. I would have heard myself from Mitch Abrams, the bassist of said rock band. He was my former BFF who refused to speak to me because of a disastrous one-night stand over a year ago.
Vivian finally put the phone down on the coffee table and turned to me. “Only a few more weeks. There had been some talk about adding a few more dates to the tour. The label is pressuring them to, but I don’t think they will. The guys are talking about taking a break.”
I frowned. “A break? Why? They’re not fighting again are they?”
About a year ago the band went through a rough patch, mostly to do with Cole Brandt, the Generation Rejects’ lead singer, and their former manager wanting to push him as the star. The other guys didn’t appreciate being sidelined and it created a lot of tension that led to the band breaking up for a period of time. But they had come back from it stronger than ever. Or so I had thought.
It was tough getting details after-the-fact. I wanted to know exactly what was going on with my friends but I felt as though I had lost the right to ask.
Vivian chewed on her bottom lip. “No, nothing like that. It’s other stuff. Last year they were selling out venues. But now they are barely filling smaller places and their downloads and album sales have declined significantly.”
“That doesn’t sound good at all. Now I understand the pre-mature wrinkles,” I commented, pointing to her face.
Vivian gasped and started stretching the skin at the corner of her eyes. “Wrinkles? Are you serious? But I moisturize religiously!” she screeched.
I laughed, the mood momentarily lightened as she glared at me. “You’re so easy to wind up, Viv,” I chuckled, dodging a pillow that she threw at me.
“Bitch,” she muttered but her lips twitched and I knew she wasn’t really mad.
“So what’s their plan then?” I asked, returning the subject to the guys we both cared about.
Vivian gnawed on her bottom lip and looked worried. “I’m not sure they have one.”
I wished I could be surprised by what Vivian had just told me.
But the truth was that I wasn’t.
The writing had been on the wall for months but it broke my heart to hear it confirmed.
Generation Rejects had been on the fast track to dominating the rock charts. After firing their shitty manager, Jose Suarez, Pirate Records had released their debut album, Current Static, to considerable critical acclaim and great sales. Their first single, Dying Days, had peaked at number 15 on the Billboard Charts. It seemed only a matter of time until they were headlining tours and winning Grammys.
Then things seemed to change.
Their follow up album, Silent Molly, had barely broken into the Top 500. Their single for the album barely had any radio play and Cuban Cadillac, the popular band they had been touring with, had dropped them in favor of another up and coming act.
“Cole says it’s just the biz, but I know he and the other guys are starting to freak out. Maysie says they have a conference call with the people at Pirate next week. She’s trying to be upbeat, but I can tell that she’s worried.”
“Does Maysie know what the call’s about?” I asked.
Vivian shrugged, her green eyes troubled. “She’s not sure, but Jordan is stressing about it. Even Garrett’s worried. And if Garrett’s worried then it must be bad.” I widened my eyes. Garrett Bellows was the lead guitarist and so laid back that he was practically horizontal. Not much got to him. So hearing that was alarming.
“The guys need to come up with a plan of action and soon. They’ve worked too hard to let it fall apart now. Maysie’s trying to get them to figure it out but I don’t know how much they’ve actually talked about it,” Vivian continued.
Maysie Ardin was one of our best friends and also happened to be on the road with Generation Rejects. She wasn’t a fan of life on the road, but she wouldn’t be anywhere else. She put her entire life on hold to support her fiancé, the Rejects’ drummer, Jordan Levitt.
It was safe to say that my entire circle of friends revolved around the band.
Maysie, Vivian, and I had all been in the same sorority at Rinard College. Then Mays hooked up with Jordan, who, at the time, happened to be the boyfriend of Olivia, our sorority president. Maysie had been black balled from Chi Delta and Viv and me, being the awesome friends that we are, had quit soon afterwards in a show of solidarity for our friend. The three of us, along with Maysie’s roommate, Riley Walker, had formed an unlikely, but strong friendship.
And at the end of all the drama and bitch fighting, Maysie and Jordan had found their happily ever after.
But Maysie and Jordan getting together had been just the beginning.
There must have been something in the water, because soon afterwards Riley hooked up with Garrett, and Vivian had started her tumultuous relationship with Cole.
Riley and Garrett, like Jordan and Maysie, were the poster children for healthy relationships. But they too had a rough start. A lot of drama and miscommunication that unfortunately had a lot do with me.
I couldn’t look back on that time without cringing.
That had been at the height of my self-destruction. I had shamelessly thrown myself at Garrett, even though my friend was obviously in love with him. I had made a complete ass of myself on numerous occasions. There had been lots of sex with random guys. Lots of dancing in my underwear. Lots of angry screaming and inconsolable tears over nothing and everything. And it always came after drinking enough alcohol to put an elephant in a coma. Because around
this time I had decided that having a functioning liver was highly overrated.
Thus the downfall of Gracie Cook.
If it hadn’t been for Mitch, god knows what would have happened to me.
I cleared my throat and wiped at my eyes that were suddenly wet. I must have gotten something in them.
“It doesn’t make any sense. They’re first album did so well,” I remarked.
Vivian sighed, picking up her phone again. “Yeah, but I guess that just happens sometimes. There are no guarantees in the entertainment industry. That’s why there are so many one-hit wonders out there. I hate it for the guys. They’ve worked so hard to get there. Mitch and Jordan were saying last weekend that they were about at the end of their rope with the whole thing. That it’s not really fun anymore. They started playing together because they loved it. Now, not so much.”
“Oh, you hung out with Mitch last weekend?” I squeaked. Vivian glanced at me questioningly. “I just meant I thought he would be hanging out with…Sophie.”
I had to force the girl’s name from my mouth. It stuck in my throat and I didn’t want to say it.
Which is ridiculous.
I didn’t have any right to be upset or irritated by the fact that he was dating someone else.
I had lost any claim to him the day I had forced him away.
Even if he totally did hook up with her only two weeks after us sleeping together. It seemed a pretty quick turn around, if you ask me.
Okay, so it hurt like a bitch. I could admit it.
But Sophie was Mitch’s…girlfriend.
There it was. The bile rising in the back of my throat at the thought.
Gah! Why was that so hard to say, even in my head?
Sophie Lanier was Mitch Abram’s girlfriend.
Mitch.
My Mitch.
No!
He wasn’t my Mitch.
Not anymore.
Well, he never really had been. I had made sure of that. I had kept him firmly in the friend zone. Even if, looking back on things now, we had never been just friends. I’d pull him in enough to keep him hanging, but then push him away once it got too intense or too real. The poor guy had been my own personal yo-yo for years. All because I was a scared idiot.
Because I had convinced myself that I didn’t love Mitch. Not like that.
I went months believing that it had just been sex. That’s what I told him. Those were the lies I fed both of us.
I had myself convinced that my heart hadn’t crumpled to pieces when Mitch had looked into my eyes and told me that he loved me.
I strongly believed I had made the right choice by shutting him down and turning away.
That what had happened didn’t matter.
Except it did.
Because by getting naked with Mitch, I had lost one of the most important people in my life.
And months later as I sat deeply entrenched in my hundredth round of therapy; I made a startling and gut wrenching realization.
I loved Mitch Abrams back.
The deep in your soul, never get over it kind of love.
And I had stomped all over it.
Now the object of my affection was in love with someone else. Happy. Blissful. And far away from me and my psychosis.
I had had my chance and I had screwed it up.
Mitch deserved better than an airhead alcoholic with an eating disorder.
He deserved better than me.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t work on making sure I became the best possible version of myself I could be. I may have ruined things with Mitch but I’d be damned if I’d ruin the rest of me.
So I worked my jobs. I went to therapy. I didn’t drink and I ate all my meals. I was healing inside and out.
That didn’t mean I had filled the giant hole in my chest where my almost happily ever after had been.
Sophie had been smart. She grabbed ahold of Mitch and hadn’t let go. I wanted to hate her for it, but I couldn’t fault her for being the better woman. She hadn’t hurt him.
That honor resided solely with me.
“Oh, she was there too.” Vivian made a face.
“What’s the face for? Sophie seems…nice.” Nice like rusty tacks underneath my fingernails.
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she’s nice. She’s just so boring, G. And you and I both know who our boy Mitch should be with.” She waggled her eyebrows in my direction and I sighed.
It was a familiar argument. Vivian would tell me to stop being a stubborn ass and fight for my man, and I would have to remind her that I had broken his heart and he’d never forgive me.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
All because I had admitted, in a moment of weakness, how deep my feelings for the Generation Rejects’ bassist went. Now my good friend and roommate was like a dog with a bone. She meant well, but I sort of wanted to shake her.
Vivian just didn’t understand that not everyone was cut for the claws out, hair-ripping kind of love she had with Cole. I wasn’t the sort to smack another girl in the mouth for looking at my man.
And I wouldn’t fight for something that was never mine to begin with. I cared about Mitch too much to ruin his current, healthy relationship just so I could find my happiness.
His happiness was more important. Damn, I had become selfless in my old age. Maturity felt a bit on the shitty side.
And love kind of sucked.
Vivian threw a pillow at me. “You’re such a goddamned martyr. I guarantee if I told Mitchiepoo how you really felt—”
“Don’t you dare!” I yelled, getting to my feet. She knew exactly how to push my buttons. And push them she did. Whenever possible. At really inopportune moments.
“Don’t you ever tell Mitch anything! I’ve put him through enough with all of my bullshit! If you ever say anything to him, Vivian, our friendship will be over! I swear it!”
Vivian’s eyes widened and she held her hands up. “Whoa, G, chill out.”
I took a deep breath and sat back down, a little embarrassed by my outburst. Vivian grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, her eyes soft.
“You know I wouldn’t say anything. I just want you to be happy. I want him happy too. I love you both.”
“Mitch is happy, Viv,” I argued.
Vivian gave me a strange look. “Is he? Are you sure about that?”
I didn’t want to think about what she was insinuating. Hope had to take a backseat to realism. My heart couldn’t handle anything else.
Vivian was looking at me with her eagle eyes and I stared back at her blankly. Give her nothing!
After a few minutes Viv sighed, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t peppering her with a million questions. “Yeah, well anyway, the whole crew was there, except you of course, because you had that thing to go to,” she said sarcastically.
We both knew my thing had involved me, our couch, and a whole lot of girlie movies.
And we both knew I was simply avoiding an awkward situation. Even though they were all my friends and I knew they’d want me there, I felt oddly out of place. Now that I didn’t have Mitch at my side, I wasn’t so sure how I fit in.
I was the poor single gal hanging with all of her coupled up friends. I’d be the loser sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush on her phone while her buddies were gettin’ it on.
No thank you.
“Yeah, well you know how things go,” I replied, shrugging.
“You know, one day you’re going to have to talk to him. I hate that there’s this big giant ball of weird whenever the two of you are in the same room. It’s uncomfortable. And uncomfortable makes my skin itch. I don’t want itchy skin. So maybe you should do something about that,” Vivian suggested.
“God forbid you have itchy skin,” I deadpanned.
“Just talk to him. Get back to that annoying Mitch and Gracie place where we can all talk behind your back about how you need to bang as you look at each other wistfully while pretending you aren’t madly in love.”
Sometimes Vivian really overstepped the line. And sometimes she was so on the money it was scary.
But I’d never, in a million years, tell her that. Her ego was out of control as it was.
I shook my head. “He hates me. End of discussion.”
“He hates you like I hate my Rockin’ Rabbit vibrator,” Vivian chastised.
And everyone knew how much Vivian loved her Rockin’ Rabbit vibrator. They had a special thing going on.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I muttered.
Vivian put her phone down again and ignored it when it dinged. She must be about to say something profound if she was ignoring Cole’s dick pic.
“Gracie, I love you. I’ve seen you at your best and I’ve seen you at your worst. And I’d prefer to see either of those than this person you’ve been for the past year.”
I grimaced. “Thanks a lot. I thought I was kicking some ass,” I huffed, trying to make light of her very serious statement. But her words hurt. A lot.
“Do you define kicking ass as days consumed with working and bad TV while pining for a man that you love? Because I think you need to work on re-defining ass kicking.”
Like I said, Vivian could be so on the money. I wanted to hate her for it.
“I’m sober. I’m not bat-shit crazy. I think I’m doing pretty well.” I hated how small I sounded.
Vivian grabbed my hand. “Sweetheart, you’re my sista from another mista, I get you. More than you’d probably like me to. And I know you miss him. That doesn’t negate all the super awesome things you’ve done to get yourself on track. But Mitch is a huge part of your life. Even when he’s not in it.”
“He has a—”
“This isn’t about Sophie. This is about you and that hottie bassist that you used to spend every waking hour with. This about how you would watch that stupid show together and quote the dialogue.”
“Don’t hate on the Fresh Prince,” I warned.
Vivian rolled her eyes. “This about how he’d send you huge packages from the road full of stuff that made him think of you. And how you’d drag me to the grocery store with you before he was due to come home so you could make sure the cupboards were full of all his favorite food like those gross red candy things and that ice cream with monkey in the name. You two were closer than most couples and now you don’t even look at each other. It’s just sad, mi amiga.”
Desperate Chances Page 2
