Between Friends (Between the Raindrops #3)

by Susan Schussler

  “Screw you.” He takes a sip of his Coke and looks out the window.

  I’m waiting for his comeback to tell me what a poor example I’ve been, how I abandoned him when I left for college, and even now as I fight to find a path in Hollywood, I never make time for him. I don’t make time for him. I know I should because Mom and Dad don’t pay attention to him, just like they didn’t pay attention to me, except when I screwed up.

  “You know, you’re Mom and Dad’s favorite, right? You can do no wrong in their eyes. Can’t you talk to them and tell them it’s just a phase or something? They listen to you.”

  “Are you kidding me? They don’t listen to me. Everything I do is wrong. I open my mouth and I’m wrong before I even speak. Shit, Seth. Dad’s got a list a mile long of my mistakes. You should be able to float by unnoticed.” Oops. I can tell by his expression it was the wrong thing to say.

  “Maybe I’d care if they cared. Maybe I wouldn’t need the drugs.”

  “There you go. The first step is admitting you need the drugs. Now that you realize you have a problem we can work on resolving it.”

  “Are you therapisting me?” He looks at me with an appalled expression, his jaw hardening. “I don’t need your help.”

  “So you found your car?” I ask, because who the hell loses their car? I look him directly in the eyes. “I know what it’s like to have that empty feeling. The one only a high can fill. I know what it’s like to have cravings. You can talk to me.”

  “You’re an addict. That doesn’t make me one.”

  “Why don’t you come out to Malibu and hang out over the weekend…to get away from Mom and Dad?” Maybe it would be a way to break the drug cycle with his friends and get me merit points with my parents. It’s been a while since we’ve spent time together.

  “All right.” He agrees too quickly, and I’m not sure what to make of his concession.

  ***

  After lunch, Seth and I drive around looking for his car. We search parking lot after parking lot and street block after street block outside clubs. Which tells me my little brother has a worthy fake ID. We even check the impound lots. We end up having to stop at a convenience store to replace the battery in his key fob. We use it so much, trying to magically light an invisible car.

  “If you didn’t have your key fob, I’d bet you left it in some club’s valet.”

  Seth’s head slams against the back of his seat. “Valet.” His head bangs two more times. “I left it at a valet. I didn’t have any money to pick it up. Kian was supposed to pay for it but he disappeared.” He starts digging through his wallet. “I should have the ticket. I couldn’t get it out when we left the club so I caught a ride with the rest of the group. How did I forget that?”

  “Why do you have your keys?” I ask, because the valet should have his keys.

  “Some girl gave me a ride. And this is my spare set. I thought I lost the keys.”

  “You know losing your car is not normal. It is a sign you have a real problem.”

  “My car isn’t lost anymore. We just have to pick it up.” He hands me the ticket with the name of the club on it. “I don’t have any money, can you help me?”

  “You owe me big time, little brother.”

  “I know,” he admits. Then he completely changes the subject. “How hard was it to break it to Mom and Dad that you weren’t going back to school after you got the job offer on Impassioned?”

  “It was awful.” I smile because we are actually talking about something other than the drugs or his car. “My first contract wasn’t much more than scale and frankly that is about as much as my trust was paying me to go to school. School is a hell of a lot easier than acting.”

  “Not as much fun though, right?”

  “No, not as much fun. What are you doing in the fall? You got a school picked out?”

  “No. My grades suck. I could always go to tech and get some generals out of the way, but Dad basically told me that’s not a choice. I don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life, but God forbid, I go to tech and embarrass Mom and Dad. I think my grades are too far gone to go anywhere else. Maybe I should become an actor. Do you think you could get me a job on your show?” His voice lightens as if it is a solution to all his problems.

  “Not the kind of job you want, but I could try. You’d have to audition on your own and join the union. I didn’t think you liked theater.”

  “I don’t. I just don’t know what to do.”

  This is the first real conversation I’ve had with him in over a year. “We can brainstorm it over the weekend. You don’t have to go to school. You just won’t get as much from the trust every month. The money still stays there. You’ll eventually get it.”

  He looks at me as if less money isn’t an option. “It’s my money. Why should I have to wait?” he asks.

  “It’s Mom and Dad’s money. Not everyone has a trust waiting for them when they turn eighteen.”

  “All my friends do. Why does Dad have to complicate everything?”

  “He thinks he’s doing what he can to make us successful. Otherwise, you would never get a job. Think of it as a safety net not a paycheck.”

  “I’ve heard that speech before.” He looks out the window and I know I need to change the subject before he disengages.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” I ask.

  “No. There are a couple of girls I hook up with once in a while, but nothing more. You?”

  “Same,” I say. “Nothing worth noting.”

  He nods in understanding. And girls might be the one subject we connect on. There is no reason to move beyond the hookup stage. After all, we are our parents’ children. We pull up to the club and I park my car on the street. I don’t have any cash and I don’t trust Seth with my credit card. It takes a few minutes before we find someone who can help us with valet parking. It’s three in the afternoon and valet parking doesn’t start until seven or eight. I pay the guy an extra twenty bucks to get Seth’s car, which brings the cost to over a hundred. It’s almost as much as an impound lot. When the car pulls up, I remind Seth that he’s spending the weekend at my place and he nods before getting into his car. I hope he shows up.

  Chapter 5

  Megan

  TWO WEEKS HAVE passed since I ran into Chase at the coffee shop. I tried to avoid him at first, even though part of me needed to see him to know if the chemistry is still there with us. I know who he was when I left him, but that doesn’t mean he’s the same person now. I’m not the same. That’s why I gave into his texting barrage. I told him I’m seeing someone, hoping to discourage him until I know if I could deal with getting back together. I agreed to go snowboarding with him as friends. He knows how much I like to board and I’m sure that is why he pushed for it. Boarding was something he and I used to do together in high school and he got me to admit that I hadn’t been boarding all season. The weather was really mild this year and once it got cold enough for snow to stick, basketball season hit full swing.

  So here I stand looking up at a black diamond hill. The white surface of the slope glistens in the sunlight. Colorful ants breeze down crisscrossing in front of each other in a rhythmic dance.

  “There is no way in hell I’m going down that. I can’t even see the top.”

  “Come on, Meg. Live a little. I promise I won’t let you die.”

  He can’t promise that.

  “The green ant in the middle looks dead. It hasn’t moved for like five minutes. Let’s find another hill.”

  He grabs my hand and starts to drag me towards the chairlift. “It doesn’t look as big from the top. We used to ride this hill all the time.”

  “That was some other chick. I’ve never been down that hill before.” I swear they redid all the runs since I was here last. Nothing looks familiar.

  “It was you,” he whispers conspiratorially in my ear. “You just never rode it sober before. I got in your pants behind one of the trees near the top. Remember it now?” He smiles that cocky
half smile I can’t resist.

  I’m surprised he remembers. I totally forgot. Maybe I was trying to suppress it. I must have drunk a lot more then. I look to my feet because I can’t meet his eyes. Damn him. I wish I could control how he still makes me feel.

  “Well, that will never happen again,” I say as I pull my hand away from his. “If I do go up this thing with you, we are not going anywhere near the tree line.”

  “We’ll see,” he mumbles under his breath as he waits for me to jump on the lift.

  “No. I can’t be that for you anymore. I’ve moved on.”

  “So you’ve got a boyfriend? Why are you here with me?” He jumps up next to me and there’s his smirk again.

  “We’re just friends. It doesn’t matter.” I can’t tell him it’s a trial run to see if we still have chemistry or he will take complete advantage of me.

  “So tell me about this other guy you’re stringing along?”

  “You and I are just friends. The other guys in my life are none of your business.”

  “Guys huh? I bet that guy you were dressing in front of doesn’t know about the others. How many?”

  “Shut up. I’m not going out with you.”

  “Yet, here you are.”

  “As friends.”

  He smiles and places his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be nervous, Meg.” His blue eyes burrow into mine.

  “You don’t intimidate me.” I can’t believe I’m letting him get me so flustered. What is wrong with me?

  “Not me, the hill. I’ve been on this hill sober. It’s not so big—me on the other hand—huge.” He holds his hands two feet apart. “Well, you know.”

  What a smart-ass. I should never have agreed to go snowboarding with him. He is so much better than I am at it and it allows him to be cocky. He grabs my hand again as we dismount the lift and I don’t pull my hand away this time. He knows where I stand, right? Oh god, I’m in so much trouble.

  The run exhilarates every part of me. Even my fingertips are tingling when Chase grabs me from behind and yanks me down on top of him in the snow. He knows me well enough to remember I’m most vulnerable when my blood is pumping. But I know him too. His next move is to pull me flush against him and start kissing the back of my neck. Part of me welcomes his touch. My body misses him. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything. The other part of me wants to elbow him in the balls and smash a snowball into his face for all the crap he put me through. I’m waiting. Where are his lips? Why isn’t he kissing my neck? I turn my head to meet his eyes. He’s laughing at me. Definitely snowball time. I find great satisfaction as my handful of snow crashes into his face. He surprises me by just brushing the snow off and not retaliating.

  We drop our boards at the stand and head into the chalet for a snack. I laugh when clumps of snow roll into Chase’s collar as he pulls off his beanie. I got him good. We grab some nachos and a couple of lemonades and bring them up to the register. I’m reaching in my pocket for my cash when Chase hands a twenty to the cashier. I’m so not used to him paying for anything. When we dated in high school, he always made an excuse not to pay, but today he offered to pay for my lift ticket. I didn’t let him, though. I want clear lines drawn so he won’t think it’s a date. I let the snack slide. It doesn’t make me feel obligated at all.

  We find a table overlooking the hill we just ran and sit down across from each other. We’re halfway through the nachos when a couple of Peterson’s frat brothers plant themselves at the long cafeteria-style table with us.

  They eye Chase and me suspiciously and Scott says, “Megan? Peterson didn’t say anything about you joining us at the slopes today.”

  “Is he here?” I try to hide my concern. He and I don’t always check in with each other except on game night. If he is here I don’t want him and Chase to get into a fight over me. Chase wouldn’t physically start a fight, but his smart mouth may cause Peterson to go off.

  “Nope. He has an economics paper to write by tomorrow.” Nash holds a hand out to Chase and says, “Hi. I’m Nash and this is Scott.” He nods toward Scott.

  Chase looks at me. After years of being together, I hope he knows how to read my expressions. I probably should just be happy I got caught. It will give me an easy out with Peterson. He won’t want his buddies harassing him about me cheating if he really is wanting more than basketball night. But part of me doesn’t want to end things with him and I’m pretty sure my expression tells Chase that.

  “I’m Wes, Meg’s brother.” Chase meets their hands and the scowl on Scott’s brow relaxes. Chase and my brother Wes were friends at one time, not good friends, but friends. That’s how we met. Chase meets my eyes with his smug grin.

  “I didn’t know Megan had any brothers,” says Scott.

  “I’m not surprised. She thinks we’re asshats. I’m the least ass of the three.”

  The guys all laugh. Scott looks at me and says, “You should hit the hills with us. Candice and Caitlyn are in the bathroom. It will be a riot.”

  I wonder how long they’ve been here. I hope none of them saw Chase holding my hand. I start to say no when Chase says, “Sure I’d love to get to know Meg’s friends a bit.” What an asshat.

  Scott pulls out a fifth of Southern Comfort and starts to pour it into his drink cup. He passes it to Nash who dumps some in his cup and then passes the bottle to Chase. Chase takes my cup and fills the cup to the brim. Then he passes it back to Scott who stuffs it into his jacket. I’m floored by the fact that he skipped his own cup and ask, “What about you?”

  “Sis, you know I don’t drink anymore—not since rehab.”

  I give him a dirty look and don’t say anymore. As I take a sip of my lemonade, almost gagging, the guys’ girlfriends join us.

  “Hey, Megan,” one of them says. They’re interchangeable so it doesn’t matter which one.

  I can see on their faces that they are wondering who the blond guy seated across from me is. I smile at Chase and say, “This is my brother, Wes.”

  They greet him like we’re best friends. They are both so fake, the epitome of the girls in my dance troupe growing up and the reason I quit dance.

  “So…Wes, do you go to the U, somewhere else, or have you graduated already?” asks Candice. She’s probably looking for her next victim. Her and Scott’s relationship has run its course.

  “No. I never went to college,” Chase says. “I work at our family’s marina on the St. Croix with my dad and brothers.” It’s not too big of a stretch for Chase to carry out a conversation about the marina. He worked there two summers. He knows the business well enough to make it believable.

  “Megan, you never said your family owns a marina,” Scott says, holding his cup up for his girlfriend to drink.

  “You never asked.”

  “Do you have a boat? You’ve got to take us out on the river this summer,” he adds.

  “Yeah. We’ve got a fifty-one-foot houseboat and a couple of speedboats. We’ll have a great time,” says Chase as I glare at him, shaking my head.

  “Did you live on the boat growing up?” asks Nash.

  I smile and say, “No. It’s not really for living on. It’s more of a destination just for recreation and business entertaining. Most people call it a yacht and I doubt my father would allow me to take a bunch of frat boys for a cruise on it. The speedboats are fair game, though.”

  “Does Peterson know you own a marina?” asks Scott.

  I shrug. “I don’t own a marina—my family does. I hate the marina.”

  Chase looks at me confused. I guess that is new to him. I used to love the marina when I was younger. Now, I’d rather be just about anywhere else.

  We talk a little bit more about the marina and then as they start to finish their drinks, they stand up and push off the bench. I think I may need to take the edge off in order to pull off this ruse. I down the sweet turpentine in my cup and join them. Outside, Chase doesn’t grab my hand, but instead wraps an arm around my shoulder and I wonder what kind
of incestuous relationship the others must think we have. I would never let one of my brothers put his arm around me like this. I know this web of lies is going to fall apart at some point and it worries me that I care. It’s not like I’m cheating on Peterson. Chase is a friend. I just don’t want to hurt Peterson. Even though the spark between us isn’t great, he’s a good guy.

  I’m a better snowboarder when my inhibitions have been lowered. The alcohol is helping or maybe I just think I’m better. The black diamond hill doesn’t seem so intimidating anymore. We’ve been down it about four more times since our snack. We hit the chair lift for another run and as we ascend I ask Chase why he stopped drinking when he gave up the drugs. The chair lift is our only chance to talk without others hearing us.

  “I just don’t like the feeling of losing control. I think I killed enough brain cells for a lifetime, don’t you?”

  I smile and nod. “Do you still crave the drugs?” I knew the alcohol would be easier for him to give up than the drugs.

  “Sure. I still crave them. Smoking was even harder than the pills, more addictive. I still crave the cigarettes, but I’m not going to poison this temple ever again,” he says passing his hand in front of his face.

  “You gave up smoking too. Wow. How did you finally get help?” I had heard the story from his brother last summer, but I want to hear it in his words.

  “I took too many pills one day and my parents had me committed. By the time the hospital let me out, I was three days into sobriety. I figured, ‘why the hell not?’ It was the longest I had been sober since junior year in high school. I went to rehab and after three months, they kicked me out. Then, I moved into a halfway house for people struggling with addiction. My parents paid for my room and board for almost a year. It was cheaper than paying for another stint in rehab. It was a hellhole, but it worked.”

  His brother had shared way more details, but I understood why he didn’t want to talk about what really happened. We reach the top of the hill and head back down with the rest of the group in front of us. Toward the bottom, Chase starts circling me. He’s going to make me trip. I’m going to fall on my face in front of everyone. I can see them all starting to gather at the bottom. Why doesn’t he just meet the group at the bottom like he did last run and let me make it down in my own time?