Prima Donna

by Drewry, Laura

  “Trust me,” Regan said, then closed her eyes slowly and sighed. “It wasn’t him.”

  “Who’s ‘him’?” Jayne asked, leaning closer. “And where did you go with him?”

  She didn’t know why she hadn’t told them before now, but she couldn’t keep everything private, and given the choice between this and who sent the rose, there really was no question.

  “It was Griffin Carr,” she said, smirking behind her bottle.

  “Shut. Up!” Maya cried. “Seriously? What’s he doing back in town and why didn’t you say anything?”

  “He offered me a job.”

  “He what?” Three women yelling the same thing at the exact same time pulled everyone’s attention away from the hockey game blaring from every corner of the pub.

  “Shhh!” she laughed. When the rest of the room went back to their own business, she leaned in, and in a quiet voice told them what had happened with Griffin.

  “Are you out of your freakin’ mind?” Ellie asked. “Why the hell would you say no to something like that?”

  “Because,” she said, wishing she hadn’t said anything about it. “I can’t just up and leave, Ellie. I have a job and a life.”

  “Some life,” Ellie scoffed. “All you do is run from one job to the next and back again.”

  “No, I don’t. There’re down times, too. Besides, I like my jobs.”

  “And that’s good,” Ellie shot back. “But you’re not going to be happy until you have your own place again, and working for Griffin, with the money he’s offering, will get you there a hell of a lot faster.”

  “Maybe, but…”

  Ellie waited all of about half a second before pushing. “But what?”

  As much as Regan loved Ellie, sometimes…

  “But it’s not just about me. I have my mother to think about.”

  “Your mother.” Jayne repeated the words slowly before grinding her teeth together and pushing her glass to the middle of the table. “You can’t let her color this decision, Regan. Don’t get me wrong, I admire what you do for her, but you hardly ever get to see her, and on the rare occasions that you get to talk to her, you spend the whole time listening to her call you horrible foul names. You can do that from anywhere.”

  “What the—” Regan started, but Maya shushed her.

  “We know, Reggie.”

  Regan slid her gaze slowly from Maya to Jayne and finally back to Ellie; Ellie, who never bullshitted anyone.

  “What, exactly, do you know?” And how did they know, was the question.

  Ellie took a sip of her wine and Jayne and Maya simply blinked at each other, but it was as though it was all happening in slow motion as a growing wave of anger churned through Regan’s stomach, crashing into what felt like bits of her heart chipping off.

  Carter.

  He was the only other person who knew about her mom, and she had no one to blame but herself for that. She should never have let him back in that night, should have never given in to his questions, to the way his dark eyes seemed to wrap her in comfort even though he hadn’t touched her.

  She’d given in to her weak side, and even though it had felt good to finally tell someone, a tiny voice in the back of her head had plagued her ever since, warning that she’d regret it one day. Today was that day.

  “Do you remember Jayne’s bachelorette party?” Ellie asked, pushing herself into Regan’s darkening mood.

  “Yeah, sort of.” It hadn’t really been a bachelorette party since they’d had it after Jayne married Nick, and the only thing Regan remembered with any certainty was that it was the night Ellie tried to teach her how to shoot Redheaded Sluts. Her lack of success wasn’t for lack of trying or for lack of Jägermeister.

  “What do you remember?”

  It took Regan a few seconds to focus; Carter had betrayed her trust, and Ellie wanted to talk about a drunken stupor that’d happened months earlier. “I, uh, I remember you got me shit-faced and I spent the next two days cursing you out and planning ways to kill you.”

  “Okay,” Ellie chuckled. “That happened, too, but do you remember what happened when we got back to your apartment that night?”

  “No. Why? What happened?”

  Ellie’s smile faded slowly. “You told us about your mom.”

  Regan froze in her chair. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her own pulse crashing in her ears, the only thing she could feel was overwhelming guilt for doubting Carter.

  She told them; not Carter.

  “I what? I, uh, but…what…um…what did I tell you?” For the next couple minutes, she listened in horror as the three of them repeated everything she’d told them about her mom, starting with the mood swings, the anger, the paranoia, the day her dad left, her mom’s suicide attempts, every horrible thing her mom had ever said to her, and what Regan was doing to help pay for her mom’s care.

  It was awful. It was humiliating. It was one of those moments where she thought if she didn’t say anything for a long time, maybe they would all just forget about it and move on to something else, so for a long while, Regan didn’t do anything but pick at the label on her bottle until Shelley walked by.

  “Another round please, Shell.”

  Apparently none of them were going to play along with her “ignore it” game, because they just sat there, silently waiting for her to say something, yet not rushing her into it.

  Regan wasn’t entirely sure she could deal with this right now. These three people were her best friends, the people she trusted most, and the thought of losing even one of them was too much to even think about.

  If any one of them had that look—the one she’d seen so many times before, the one usually followed by the person trying to get as far away as they could in case they caught the crazy—it would rip the four of them apart.

  “Is everything okay?” Shelley asked, setting the next round on the table.

  Regan didn’t look up, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Ellie nod, and a second later, Shelley was gone.

  With a deep breath, Regan closed her eyes, took a long drink, and braced herself for the worst. Opening her eyes slowly, she tipped her head to the side and forced herself to look up at Ellie, whose expression wasn’t one of pity or even one of being slightly freaked out.

  It was worry. And compassion. And strength.

  And it was the exact same expression shared by Maya and Jayne.

  There was no pity, there was no panic, and there was no freaking out. Instead, it felt as though they’d built a fortress around Regan, and if the look in their eyes was any indication, there’d be hell to pay if anyone tried to break through that fortress.

  “Okay,” Regan finally choked out, dashing her hand over her eyes. “Note to self: never drink with Ellie again.”

  “Oh no,” Ellie laughed. “You’re going to learn how to do shooters even if it kills both of us.”

  “You didn’t have to keep that from us, Reggie.” Maya’s voice, soft and quiet, was every bit as strong as Ellie’s. “We know you’d rather die than ask for help—”

  “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”

  The way the three of them snorted in unison was a little uncalled for.

  “I’m just saying,” Maya went on. “You’ve looked after your mom—and yourself—since you were a kid, so we understand why it’s hard for you to ask for help and we understand why you have issues trusting people.”

  “I trust you guys.”

  “Not completely.” Jayne’s quiet voice sat like a weight between them. “If you hadn’t been drunk that night, you never would have told us about your mom.”

  “I couldn’t.” Regan closed her eyes and inhaled slowly as the wave of guilt washed over her. They were right; she didn’t trust people. What they didn’t know was that she didn’t trust herself. No matter what any of them said, she would always feel responsible for her mother’s illness, would always know it was because of that illness her dad left and why her mom couldn’t stand to see
her.

  It was her own fault her parents abandoned her, and if that’s what she did to the two people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, what hope did she have with anyone else?

  “I know what it’s like,” Jayne said quietly. “Every time she says something hurtful, it feels like another piece of you chips off and there’s no way you’ll ever get them all back together again, right?”

  Her voice was little more than a whisper, but her words reached inside Regan and wrapped themselves around every one of her broken pieces. Jayne knew; of course she knew. Unlike Regan’s mother, whose illness made her say horrible things, Jayne’s grandmother had said them on purpose.

  “But if you’d just let yourself trust us,” Jayne went on. “Believe that we’re not going anywhere, that you’re stuck with us for the rest of your life, then some of those pieces will start to fall back into place. I promise.”

  “And in keeping with the puzzle metaphor,” Maya said, smiling gently. “Your salon is a big piece that needs to be put back where it belongs and this opportunity with Griffin will help you with that. You’ll get paid a stupid amount of money to do what you love, you’ll get some stamps in that dusty old passport, and you’ll get to do it all with the hottest guy in the western world.”

  The first two things might be true, but the last…Regan sighed. Well, two out of three ain’t bad, right Meatloaf?

  “And,” Jayne added. “If something should ever come up with your mom while you’re gone, the three of us can certainly take care of it until you get back.”

  “I appreciate that,” Regan said slowly. “Really, I do, but…”

  “But you’re not ready to give up some of your control issues.”

  Something like that normally would have pissed Regan off, but this time…well, they’d just busted her on pretty much everything, so what else could she do but grin?

  “Thank you for that, Ben, er, I mean, Jayne. Sorry, all you Scotts sort of blur together sometimes.”

  “Funny,” Jayne said, grinning back at her. “And for the record, he and I are only related through marriage so it doesn’t really count.”

  Regan started to laugh and to tell her that was exactly what Carter said, but it was best to keep his name as far away from this conversation as possible.

  “Look,” Maya continued in the no-nonsense tone she’d taken on. “For months now, the three of us have sat back and waited for the right moment to charge in and force you to let us help, but I think we all know now that day’s never going to come because you might never trust anyone that much—and before you interrupt, let me finish.”

  Regan sighed and sat back in her chair while Maya went on.

  “Baby steps, that’s all we’re going to do. We’re here for you whenever you need us, no matter what, no matter when, no matter why.”

  “No matter nothing,” Jayne added.

  “Damn right.” Ellie lifted her glass, tapped it against Regan’s bottle, and winked over a grin.

  “Thank you.” It took a few seconds, but Regan finally stopped chewing her cheek and sighed. “I’ll kill the first one of you who repeats this to Ben, but I know I have a few issues I need to work on—”

  “Who doesn’t?” Maya snorted.

  “And while I really do appreciate your support, there’s nothing anyone can do for my mom.”

  “Maybe not,” Jayne said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything for you. It can’t be easy dealing with her on your own, because while you have to know it’s the disease that makes her say and act the way she does, it still hurts. Let us help with that; you want to vent about it, vent. You want to cry, cry. You want to punch someone, punch Maya or Ellie.”

  “Hey!” Maya cried, but Ellie just shrugged.

  “What the hell,” she grinned, “I’ll take one for the team.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Regan didn’t even have to force her smile, it just came naturally. “Can we talk about something else now please, because I’ve had more than enough of this topic. Someone else must have something to talk about.”

  The three guys a few tables over burst to their feet, arms waving, curses flying at whatever just happened in the game they were watching. Regan refused to look even though everyone else did. The last thing she needed to see was another hockey jersey.

  When the noise finally settled, Jayne rolled her finger around the rim of her glass and grinned slowly.

  “So I have a bit of news.”

  Regan’s head turned faster than the other two.

  “You’re pregnant!” Ellie blurted.

  “No!” Jayne laughed. “Why—do I look fat?”

  “Please. What’s your news?”

  “It’s been in the works for a couple months now, but I didn’t want to jinx it by saying anything too soon.” Her smile turned soft, almost shy, a good sign it had something to do with Nick. “We’re selling the house.”

  “You’re what?” Regan gaped. “You’re not leaving town, are you?”

  “No, nothing like that. The house we’re in is the one Nick and his late wife planned out together, and even though she died before he finished building it…” Her cheeks flushed, she looked down and shrugged. “Nick doesn’t want me living in Abby’s house. I told him it doesn’t matter to me—and it seriously doesn’t—but he wants us to have a house that’s ours.”

  “That Nick is good people,” Maya said, raising her glass.

  “And no offense, Jayne,” Ellie snorted. “But I can’t believe Abby hasn’t haunted your ass out of there already.”

  Jayne laughed lightly. “I know. I keep waiting for the roof to cave in on me or something.”

  “So where are you going to build?”

  “We bought the lot down at the very end of Fable Way.”

  “The one that backs on to the golf course?”

  “Yeah.” Jayne’s face flushed over her grin. “The lot’s a little bigger, but Nick says we’re going to need the room once we start having kids.”

  “Good grief,” Regan chuckled. “How many kids are you planning on having?”

  “Depends on who you ask.” Jayne’s eye roll made them all laugh. “Nick thinks we’re going to field our own football team, but I told him it would be more like the forward line of a hockey team.”

  When the rest of them frowned back at her, Jayne’s eyes rolled even higher. “Three.”

  “Nice,” Ellie said, clearly impressed. “When will you start building?”

  “The permits came through last week, so Nick’s already started clearing the lot.”

  They toasted Jayne first and then Maya when she announced her court date had been set.

  “Two weeks from today, I’ll be done with him forever. May the dickhead and his whore rot in hell together.”

  “Amen!”

  Regan sipped her beer slowly as a realization settled over her.

  The four of them hadn’t done anything different than what they did every week; gather around the table at Chalker’s and talk, but it felt different now. These three women weren’t just her friends, they were her sisters. It was in the unwavering way they looked at her, and in the way they said what needed to be said and then moved on as if there was no need to question it.

  What surprised her most was realizing it was the exact same way they’d always looked at her, and the exact same way they’d always talked to her, but it wasn’t until right then, right there, that Regan got it. That she accepted it. Nothing had changed; they were the same four people they’d always been. They knew everything and they accepted it without question or hesitation.

  How cool was that?

  —

  Since finding Regan in his jersey, something changed, and Carter’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare the crap out of him. He’d sat through the game with Jules and Rossick, had even made a good show of pretending to pay attention and cheer with everyone else, but he’d left the jersey in his car and just shrugged it off when Rossick asked him about it.

 
It was just a stupid-ass jersey, so why couldn’t Carter shake the feeling that it was more than that now? That it meant something? But what? Hell if he knew.

  The card and rose he’d sent her on Valentine’s Day was something he’d done more for himself, to release a little of the pent-up need he had to tell her how much he still wanted her. But then he’d gone and turned the card into a joke so she wouldn’t know he was serious.

  God, he was screwed up.

  And no matter how hard he tried for the next week or so, he couldn’t find anything about her that didn’t do something for him.

  Sure, she got on his case about his charts not being up to date, but without the charts, she couldn’t do the billing, which meant he wouldn’t get paid.

  Sure, she seemed to have some sort of anal compulsion about straightening up the waiting room every ten minutes, and gave him and Rossick shit when they didn’t put the game controllers away, but the patients all commented on how warm and comfortable she made it and how much they appreciated up-to-date magazines.

  And sure, she wasn’t one to ooze sympathy for anyone, but she was the first to offer an ear if someone needed to talk, an arm if they needed to find their balance, or a bucket if she thought they weren’t going to make it to the bathroom (something that happened more often than most people realized).

  It hadn’t taken her any time at all to figure out the billing system, more often than not she spent her lunch hours studying the medical terminology book Jayne found for her, and despite Tracy’s ongoing attempts, Regan refused to be cowed by her.

  She had a job to do and there wasn’t anything or anyone she was going to let get in her way.

  You’d never know it by the way she worked, and she sure as hell hadn’t said it out loud, but Carter knew the job was hard on her. Not everyone left happy, and that’s what she liked; that’s what she wanted. She wanted people to walk away from her feeling better about themselves and everyone else around them, but in this line of work, that wasn’t always possible.

  Carter tossed his pen on top of his last chart of the day and leaned his head back in his chair, but before he could even inhale, a high-pitched wail from the waiting room brought him straight to his feet.