Thursday Nights (The Charistown Series)

by Lisa N. Paul

  “Fine, Ly. Where the fuck are you?”

  “You know where I am, Janie.” The retort told Janie everything she needed to know, but nothing she wanted to hear.

  “You’re not going back to your place, are you?” Janie asked quietly.

  “No. I can’t.”

  Janie heard Lyla take a deep breath. She was going to kill Kyle.

  “Can I please come see you?” Janie pleaded.

  “Of course, Jane…of course. I am so sorry I left you. I just needed to…I just needed to, well, you know.”

  Janie understood what Lyla wasn’t saying. “Which hotel? What room number? What name?” Janie spat out the questions that she’d asked too many times before.

  “Hilton, room 815, L. Paige,” Lyla answered without hesitation.

  “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

  She had to hurry. Lyla only did this when she was riding a downward spiral. And Janie knew this one would be one of the worst.

  “Danny’s on Main,” Julie answered the phone cheerfully.

  “Hi, Jule, it’s me…Janie.”

  “Hi, honey. Is everything all right?” She asked in her protective, mother bear way.

  Janie knew her anxious tone was most likely the reason for Julie’s change in demeanor. “You wanted me to open up, right? You want us to be like family?” Janie didn’t wait for a response, she was too upset, too nervous about what she was going to find when she got face-to-face with Lyla. “Well, here you go. This is me telling you something, okay?” Janie’s voice was shaking and Julie was silent. “Are you there, Jul?”

  “Go on, sweetie,” Julie replied in a sturdy voice.

  “I know Kyle hasn’t been in yet this week, I know Danny’s upset with him and took him off the schedule. But I need either you or Danny…yes, Julie, I know he is in there with you right now.”

  “Yes, honey, he’s here go on. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  Janie pulled in another breath—through what sounded to Julie like tears—and continued.

  “I need one of you to talk to Kyle.” The sadness bleached out of her voice and was replaced by anger, an anger Janie hadn’t felt in years. “Tell him that his carelessness has ruined a part of Lyla that can never be fixed. Tell him there has never been a dollar or a dime that has come to her for free. Every cent she has ever had has come from either hard work or from the pieces ripped out of her soul. I would tell him these things myself, but I’m scared I would actually kill him.”

  When the line remained silent, Janie spoke the catch phrase that was so often used by the family at Danny’s. “Words, Julie, I need words.”

  “Yes, Janie. I will personally give him the message.”

  “Thank you, Julie. I love you.” Janie disconnected the phone without waiting for a response. She now knew and believed Julie loved her. She didn’t need the reassurance.

  “Was that Janie?” Max asked, standing in the open door to Danny and Julie’s shared office. After hearing about the conversation that they had with Janie, Max found himself back in the all-too-familiar feeling of wanting to beat the shit out of Kyle. “Did she say where she was going or if Lyla came home yet?”

  “No, son,” Danny said. “She only told us what we told you, and then she hung up.”

  “All right…Well, let me know if you hear back from her, okay?” The tension coiled like a snake in his gut. He wanted to call Janie. Hell, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and shield her from all of her pain. But in order to protect her, he would have to let her in, which would mean stepping out of his own armor.

  No, he couldn’t do that. He had let Chloe in. He had gave her everything. She used to say he was her knight in shining armor, and then she slayed him with his own sword. No, he wasn’t going there again. Being friends would have to be enough.

  The clink of the deadbolt and the jingle of the door chain told Janie just how unsafe and insecure Lyla was feeling. Lyla always needed extra security when she went into her dark place.

  The door of room 815 slowly opened to a pale, exhausted-looking Lyla. Janie couldn’t control the tears as she reached out to embrace her friend.

  “Crying is for pussies, Janie. We’ve talked about this,” Lyla said with a plastic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I ordered pizza and ice cream,” Lyla announced, the relief of Janie’s presence palpable.

  “Oh, thank God. I’m starving.” Janie sniffled and wiped her eyes, then took in Lyla’s appearance. The deep, purple circles under Lyla’s eyes showed exactly what Janie had suspected. “Have you slept at all?” she asked.

  “Only about two or three hours a night. The nightmares are back…”

  After stroking Lyla’s arm, Janie reached into her pocket and handed Lyla a little, amber prescription bottle.

  “I love you, Janie Silver. How did you know?” Lyla accepted the sleeping pills and put them aside for later.

  “What do you mean, how did I know? I’m your best friend! Who knows you better than me?” With a shrug of her shoulders, she continued. “I know that you are not okay right now, Ly, and when you’re not okay, you don’t sleep. That being said, there’s something I need to get off my chest before we can move forward.”

  Lyla looked at Janie’s breasts. “Are you sure you can spare it?” she said, voice monotone.

  They both smiled, and Janie’s middle finger crept up and pointed at Lyla.

  “Seriously, Ly, your disappearing act wasn’t cool. We’ve been friends, best friends…we know all the deep, dark shit about each other…for over ten years. And you have never given me radio silence like you did this week. Why would you do that? What Kyle said was horrible, I understand. It was awful, untrue, and disgusting, but enough so that you would shut me out?” Janie exposed her vulnerability to Lyla, like a cat rolling over to expose its belly. “It hurt me, Lyla. I felt so…”

  Lyla grimaced as she saw the pain in her best friend’s eyes. She never meant to hurt her; she was just trying to save herself. God, that sounded horrible even in her own head. Maybe she was as awful as Kyle had said. “I’m so sorry, Jane. Maybe Kyle was right. I—”

  “Stop it!” Janie snapped. “You know what he said was bullshit. What is really going on?”

  Lyla loved Janie like a sister, like no other person in the world. Janie was her tether to reality. She helped to keep her past where it belonged and encouraged her to build a life and a family. But there were some things even Janie didn’t know. Things that were too dark to share. And Janie was too pure and kind to be exposed to that kind of cruelty. So Lyla kept those things to herself. She had a suspicion that Janie knew she still hid certain things, but they both adhered to the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. Therefore, Lyla only told Janie the things she needed to know, and this was one of them.

  “Jane, George was up for parole this week,” Lyla stated calmly. Janie gasped as Lyla’s words sunk in. George had been a one-time friend who turned into a long-time nightmare. He met Lyla when her first few novels were published and was convinced that he was in love with her. He became obsessed with both the books and the author. When Lyla tried to explain to George that she didn’t return his feelings, his obsession grew.

  Janie sank into the memory of that night. Had she not arrived at Lyla’s apartment when she had, she would have been too late. As it was, Janie had never seen so much blood. Thank God she had had the foresight to call the police before going to Lyla’s—she just knew something wasn’t right, she could feel it. Lyla always returned her calls but not that night. Janie’s intuition had nothing on the reality of the situation, though. Janie could still hear Lyla’s screams in her dreams.

  When the police had arrived, they incapacitated George with one shot to the leg and dragged him off, leaving the paramedics and Janie to help a broken, battered Lyla. To this day, when Janie remembered that horrible night, the part that resonated the most was what happened after Lyla was taken to the hospital. When Janie was finally permitted to see Lyla in triage, s
he looked at the shattered face of her beloved sister and saw that what had been left of the tiny flame—of what Janie saw as hope—was gone. Lyla was hidden behind her walls, and Janie wasn’t sure if anything or anyone would ever get past them again.

  “He didn’t make it,” Lyla continued, “but my lawyers contacted me to inform me of the possibility. Knowing there was even a chance, along with all of the things that Kyle said, it was just too much to bear. I can’t go back to that house now, Janie. You know how it is…how I get. It’s full of…yuckiness now.”

  Janie looked pointedly at Lyla. “Ly, you are a fucking wordsmith and all you could come up with to describe the pain and turmoil that is making you leave your home is yuckiness…really?”

  Lyla laughed deeply. “Yep. That about sums it up.”

  Janie felt a pang of sadness when she watched the momentary happiness being sucked back out of Lyla’s face like a sponge as she continued to speak. “It wasn’t my home, anyway; we both know that. It was just a house. And I already found a new one close by. In fact, it’s even closer to your apartment complex. I can close next week since the owners have already vacated. I called the movers they will pack up my shit and move it to the new place.” Lyla stopped the pacing that she hadn’t realized she had started. “Jane, will you go over and pack up the important stuff?”

  Janie knew exactly what “stuff” Lyla was referring to. This was not the first time Lyla had up and moved like this, nor was it the second, or the third.

  “Of course, I’ll pack your things, honey, but eventually you’re going to have to stop running.”

  Lyla shrugged. “I know, but eventually is not now.”

  Reaching out, Janie grabbed Lyla’s arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Okay, Ly.”

  “Okay, Jane.”

  That was the end of the conversation. They ate their pizza and their ice cream and watched Pretty Woman and Sixteen Candles. Finally, Janie handed Lyla a sleeping pill and a glass of water.

  “Sweetie, you need to get some sleep,” Janie said. “First of all, you lose all creativity when you are sleep deprived, and you have a deadline fast approaching. Second, and of course, most important, you look like shit Ly.” The girls laughed and Lyla nodded, taking the pill and crawling onto the bed.

  Janie stroked her hair and told her about her new students as Lyla started to drift off. Just before Lyla closed her eyes she looked at Janie.

  “Thank you…for always being here. I love you.”

  Janie’s eyes got moist as she continued to smooth Lyla’s hair. When she was certain that Lyla was out for the night, she left the hotel room and headed home.

  Janie didn’t seem to notice the eyes watching her as she got out of her car and walked across the parking lot to her apartment. Janie’s complex was a three-story walk-up with all of the front doors opening to the outside. Max often commented to both Janie and Lyla that he didn’t think women should live in places with such little security, but tonight it worked to his advantage. He was able to watch her as she took the stairs up to her second-floor apartment unseen.

  When he saw her enter her place and close the door behind her, he let out a deep sigh. He had been waiting for hours for her to come home. He couldn’t deny he was worried about her. But not worried enough to knock on her door, huh, DeLucca? You’re such a jerk. He gripped the wheel of his Jeep with white knuckles and tried to refocus.

  He knew she went to see Lyla, and her step seemed lighter as she walked. He was grateful that the women reconnected. His stomach finally unclenched after days of worrying about Lyla’s safety and Janie’s heart.

  “Fucking Kyle,” he mumbled to himself. Max had called the little bastard the day before, and judging by their brief conversation, Danny had been right in not letting Ryan kill him. Kyle was doing a bang-up job keeping himself in a perpetual state of fucked-up. Max knew he would have to speak with Ryan and Danny about some kind of intervention eventually, but tonight he felt like sticking with the jerk theme and maybe throwing in a little narcissism for good measure. He scrolled through his cell until he found the number he was looking for and pushed send.

  “DeLucca, my friend,” the rough voice sounded. Max could hear the man’s smile through the phone.

  “Hey, Gage…”

  Sebastian Gage chuckled when Max didn’t continue to speak. “So, it’s like that, huh?”

  “Yeah, man,” Max answered, “it’s like that. I have nothing to say.”

  “I’ll tell you what, DeLucca…I just closed the shop, and I got nowhere else to be. Why don’t you and your sweet-ass ride come and meet me at my track. It’s late, so everyone else should be gone by the time I get there. I’ll turn the on the lights down at the oval so you can think.’’

  Max heard Gage laughing at how well he knew his friend. “I’ll give you about an hour while I do some paperwork. If you’re interested afterward, maybe we can grab a bite and a beer. You can tell me what the hell has you so fucked up. As if I don’t already know.”

  Equal parts fear, frustration, confusion, and something else he refused to consider, weighed on Max’s shoulders as he pulled out of his watching spot and headed home to get his Ferrari. In thirty minutes he would be doing the one thing that makes him bone-deep happy—well, the second thing…the first thing just turned off the lights in her apartment.

  Janie sat by the window and watched the jeep pull out of the parking lot. I thought we were friends, Max, the small voice in her head said as his taillights faded into the dark. The voice cheered at the fact that he had waited to make sure she got home safely, while another voice sharply reminded her that he didn’t have the balls to face her…again!

  After fighting an internal battle, one that she wasn’t certain if she had won or lost, she shot Max a quick text.

  Saw Lyla. She is doing Ok. Thought you’d want to know. Chat soon. J

  Strapped in tight with nothing but asphalt in front of him, Max pulled in a deep breath and pushed down the gas. The engine roared, and his body thrummed as he held onto the wheel of his Ferrari. It wasn’t often that he got to open up his baby like this to see what she could do. He made a mental note to send Gage a bottle of his favorite scotch as a thank you for the extra “thinking time.” The benefit of driving the oval was that Max could do it on autopilot. That’s probably why Gage offered it as often as he did. He understood.

  Max and Gage had been best friends for their entire lives. “Almost our entire lives,” Max snarled out loud as he pressed down harder on the gas. The three years they didn’t speak because Chloe made him choose between his best friend and his wife were the worst years of his life.

  “Obviously, I chose wrong…again,” he continued with his monologue.

  Max looped the track, going as fast as his car would take him. The pace lulled his mind, allowing his body to unwind and ease. However, as relaxation came so did the memories he’d spent the last seven years trying to forget.

  His years with Chloe filtered through his mind. All of her lies. All of her cheating. The feeling of hurt and betrayal still burned like acid on his skin. But the day she told him she was pregnant with another man’s baby—the same day she casually called out “How many men do I need to fuck before you let me go?” as she got into her lover’s car and left him standing in the driveway—was the day he finally broke.

  The gas pedal hit the pad as the loops melded into each other.

  That Went Well . . . No?

  “Sorry about last night, man.” Gage stared into his glass. “Family drama…you know how it is.”

  By the time Max was done with his drive, Gage had already left the track. His reasoning didn’t come as a surprise though—Gage had been dealing with family “drama” since they were little boys, courtesy of his nasty, drug-addled, alcoholic excuse of a mother. This time she was causing grief to his terminally ill grandmother. Max spent all of his childhood and most of his adult life working at Gage’s family business, the Gage Garage, so he knew the havoc his mother could wreck.
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br />   “No problem, Gage. I probably would have been shit company last night anyway,” Max admitted, placing his beer on the wooden tabletop that had been etched with names of hundreds of people who had sat there before them.

  Chopper’s was a local bar that drew a large biker clientele, but they were just as well known for their burgers, drinks, and pool—the latter being the reason why the men had decided to meet there. While the natural vibe was chill, it could change in an instant if the wrong thing was said or the wrong woman was poached. Chopper’s was known for the ink on the skin of its patrons and the leather hugging the curves of its women.

  “Women,” Max declared, “all sorts of drama. Are they even worth it?”

  Gage stared, a deadpan expression on his face, at Max’s ridiculous question and set down his glass. “Hell yes,” he answered with a laugh.

  Gage eyed his next shot, trying to get the striped eleven in the corner pocket. “So, are you gonna talk or do I have to go all Matt Lauer on your ass?” With a click, the ball went in the pocket, and Gage grinned, calling his next shot. “Fifteen in the side pocket.”

  Max hesitated. “I don’t know…” Click—the ball went in.

  Gage looked up at Max. “Dude, how many years is it gonna take before you realize that I know your bullshit face? I, too, sit in that bar, not every Thursday but a lot of them. While my sights are set on a different woman, she just so happens to be sitting next to the one that has you all tied up. Do you think I’m blind?”

  Max knew he couldn’t lie to his friend. He had already shared more of the intimate details over shots the night after he and Janie first slept together.

  “You said the sex was hot—‘smoking fucking hot’ were the exact words I think you used. So, what’s your problem?”

  “My problem, douche bag, if you remember correctly, is that I didn’t call.” Max took his shot and sunk the first ball but missed the second.

  “So what?” Gage shrugged. “You apologize, ask for forgiveness, and move on. I’ve seen her, Max. She’s into you. She’s like a light, and when you’re around her you glow too—Fuck!” Max looked at Gage with concern. “I’m starting to sound more like Oprah than Matt Lauer. I need to get into a fight tonight. Must have more testosterone,” Gage said in a robot voice.