Divorced, Desperate and Dead

by Christie Craig

“Hey, we both used to love it.”

  “We were eight,” Chloe said.

  “Yeah, and those were the good times, weren’t they?”

  Chloe dropped back on the sofa.

  “So, what happened?” Sheri asked.

  Chloe downed a sip of pickle juice. She had to wait for her mouth to stop puckering to answer. “A woman without her panties happened. She showed up at his door.”

  Sheri stared at her over the rim of her glass. “Okay, but how did you know she wasn’t wearing panties?”

  “Because she was dangling them on her finger and saying, ‘Hurry, open the door, I’m not wearing any panties.’”

  Sheri’s eyes grew wide. “Wow. What did Johnny Depp do?”

  “He wasn’t there,” Chloe said.

  “I mean Cary Stevens.”

  “I know who you meant. He wasn’t there either.”

  “Then what did he say when you confronted him?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “What?”

  “He called and he’d been shot again.”

  “Shit!” Sheri said.

  “I know,” Chloe said. “He was wearing a vest, but he sounded . . . upset and I was going to tell him, but . . . I didn’t think it was the right time and then he had to go and . . .”

  “You haven’t told him yet?”

  “No.”

  “So you haven’t let him explain?”

  “What’s to explain?”

  Sheri put her drink on the coffee table and waved her hands in the air. “Let’s reboot. You’re saying this woman showed up and you just assumed she was the girlfriend?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “She had her panties on her finger, whispering sweet nothings, and wearing a come-and-get-me-big-boy look. I think my assumptions are not too far off the beaten path. She even said she’d told him she was coming over.”

  “Why would he tell her to come over when you were there?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to be there. I told him I was leaving but then he got called off to work the case and. . .” She put a hand over her heart when it hurt, really physically hurt. “I was nothing more than a notch on his belt.”

  “Maybe . . . I mean, she could have been an old girlfriend, or just a wannabe who was horny and needed a roll in the hay.”

  Blinking, Chloe felt another round of tears threatening to fall. “He lied to me, Sheri. I asked him if he was seeing anyone. He just lied.”

  “Okay. I see what you’re saying. And I know it’s not good, but—”

  “But what?” Chloe’s tears started flowing at flood hazard rates. She couldn’t blink fast enough. “There are no buts! He lied. I don’t want lies! I don’t want guys hiding things—killing themselves without me even knowing they were on antidepressants. I don’t want to be hurt again. I can’t take it anymore!”

  “Oh, lordie.” Sheri folded her hands in her lap. “I’m gonna say something, but don’t get mad. I think what you’re feeling is not just about this guy, but about Jerry.”

  Chloe scrubbed the tears off her face. “No, it’s not about him. It’s not even about Cary Stevens. It’s about me. Me!” She hiccupped and patted her chest so hard it echoed. “It’s about me loving someone with everything I have. It’s about me feeling as if I would do anything in the world for that person. It’s about me discovering that this person’s not feeling half of what I feel. About this person letting me down when I’d do anything in the world to make them happy.”

  She inhaled deeply, her breath shuttering. “What’s wrong with me, Sheri? Why can’t I find anyone to love me as much as I love them?”

  Sheri, tears in her eyes, reached over and squeezed Chloe’s hand. “Okay, I don’t think pickle juice is cutting it. We’re gonna need some wine, Godiva, and Blue Bell ice cream. You want to go with me, or wait here?”

  They got their purses and Chloe was about to walk out when all of a sudden she realized what a terrible friend she was. She swung around and faced Sheri.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did this.”

  “Did what?” Sheri asked.

  “This!” She held her hands out. “I come here and fall apart. Cried on your shoulder, as if you don’t have any problems. You’ve got the whole Kevin issue and I’m being a selfish twit. Forgive me. And just kick my butt if I do it again.”

  Sheri shook her head. “Please. You’re not a twit. And my problems aren’t . . .” She paused as if searching for words. “Here’s the thing. The fact that I’m not falling apart tells me a lot.” Sheri smiled, not a happy smile, but a sad one. “You want to know something that’s crazy? I’m a little envious of you.”

  “For what?” Chloe asked, befuddled.

  “I’d feel better about myself if I was devastated. I should be devastated. Kevin and I have been together three years. Engaged for two. I should be an emotional wreck, and yet all I feel is . . . kind of relieved. And God help me, but there’s a part of me that worries that I might not have ever been in love with him. Yes, I loved him, but I don’t think I ever felt like you feel. Is there something wrong with me that I don’t love like that?”

  Chloe hugged her. “Okay, we’re both screwed up bitches.”

  When she pulled back, Sheri offered her another sad smile. “As long as I’m not the only screwed up bitch, I’m okay with it.”

  “You’re not,” Chloe said and smiled.

  Sheri laughed. “There’s only one question now.”

  “What?” Chloe asked, and brushed another tear from her face.

  “Cabernet or Merlot?”

  “Cab,” Chloe said, and then flinched when she heard her phone beep with an incoming text.

  “You might as well check,” Sheri said. “It’ll drive you crazy.”

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and saw the message. It was from Cary. And it brought more tears to her eyes.

  It’s going to be several hours. Sorry. Miss you.

  Chloe held up the phone for Sheri to read.

  Sheri frowned. “Does he think you’re at his house?”

  Chloe nodded.

  “Just call him and tell him what happened. Get it over with.”

  “But . . . he’s at work.”

  “Yeah, but he’s eventually going to go back to his place and realize you aren’t there.”

  She nodded. “And when he does, he’ll call me, and I’ll tell him then. He hasn’t had an easy day.”

  Sheri’s frown grew deeper. “You know, when you break up with someone you aren’t supposed to really be concerned about how they take it.”

  “I’m not.” Oh, yes she was.

  “The Chloe I know would pick up the phone and get it over with right now.”

  “I know. This is my new persona.”

  “What persona is that?”

  “Screwed-up bitch.”

  • • •

  Six hours later, reports done, the evening sun hanging low in the west, Cary walked into the hospital. As bad as he wanted to go home, to lose himself in the happiness he felt simply from being with Chloe, he needed to know how J.D. and Pablo were doing. He’d called earlier, and their conditions had been upgraded from critical to serious. But he wanted to see for himself. Well, he at least wanted to see J.D.

  Seeing Pablo wasn’t on his list. But damn if he wasn’t relieved that he was okay.

  He considered what he wanted to tell J.D. He wouldn’t be able to talk to the DA for a few days, but the kid should at least know he had people behind him.

  As he waited on the elevator, he tugged his phone from his pocket and checked it.

  For about the hundredth time.

  He’d sort of expected to have a reply text from Chloe. He pushed the disappointment aside, telling himself it meant nothing.

  She was at his house waiting on him. They’d talk. Talk about all that went down today.

  About her being nervous about him being a cop.

  About the fact that he wasn’t afraid of her anymore.

  He was ready.

&n
bsp; Ready to have her on his arm when he went to see his sisters.

  Ready to have dinner with Jason and Sue, telling the world they were a couple.

  Ready to put his past behind him.

  All of a sudden, he remembered something else he needed to do: call Paula, telling her that he wasn’t available for booty calls anymore. Well, he was going to have to say it nicer than that. He didn’t want to be disrespectful. He just didn’t want it anymore.

  He wanted Chloe.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  It was almost nine that night. The angel had answered J.D.’s prayer, and it hadn’t hurt when he was shot. But he’d hurt like hell since he woke up from surgery and now she wasn’t listening. Maybe she’d realized who he was, and decided he deserved some pain.

  But damn, how could it hurt more to take a bullet out than to put one in?

  There was a light knock at the door. J.D. had heard the officer assigned to sit outside his room speaking with the nurses. So far the guy hadn’t wanted to be social.

  That was okay. He wasn’t up to being social himself.

  The knock came again. When he didn’t answer, the door swished open about six inches.

  “Want some company for a few minutes?”

  J.D. knew the voice. When he squinted, he recognized the face peering through the door. Cary Stevens reminded him of someone. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  The fact that he was nice enough to ask if he could come in said a lot. “Yeah, sure.” His memory flashed that this guy hadn’t been out of the hospital too long himself. J.D. couldn’t be sure, but thought he noticed the cop favoring one leg.

  “It probably does your heart good to see me shot.”

  “Not true,” the man said and eased in the door.

  For a second, J.D. wondered if somehow the guy was slow putting the facts together. Could he not know J.D. had shot him?

  “You do know. . .” Damn, that was stupid. He closed his mouth.

  “That you shot me?” he finished J.D.’s sentence. He kind of smiled. “I know.”

  J.D. nodded. “So, are you like religious or something and forgive people?”

  The cop hesitated before answering. “I wouldn’t describe myself as religious, per se. But I believe in . . . the whole afterlife stuff. And yeah, I believe in forgiveness.”

  “So you’ve really forgiven me?” For some reason, J.D. needed to hear it.

  “Yeah, I’ve forgiven you.” The cop said. “What about you? You religious?”

  “I believe in angels,” J.D. said.

  “Seen any lately?” Cary asked.

  “Would ya think I’m crazy if I say yes?”

  “Hell no.” The man moved a little closer to the bed. He stuck one hand in his pocket. “You hurting?”

  “Like hell,” he said.

  “You want me to get your nurse?”

  “Nah. She just came in. Said I’ll get something in an hour. Gotta tough it out.”

  He stood there quietly before saying.. “Thanks for taking Jax out. It could have turned out differently if you hadn’t.”

  J.D. stared at him. “I just figured out who you look like. That actor. The one who played in the pirate movies.”

  Cary smiled. “I get that a lot. But I’ll bet he makes a hell of a lot more money than I do. Not to mention gets a lot of girls.”

  J.D. grinned. “Probably.” The pain in his shoulder started radiating down his arm. He let his head fall back just a bit.

  “Look, I just came by to let you know that I’m gonna do what I can to help.”

  J.D. looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “I found the phone. Saw the video. CSU found another video. The one where they killed Marc Jones.”

  “I didn’t know he took that one. I wasn’t there.”

  The cop nodded. “I know. I appreciate you turning this in. Can I count on you to testify?”

  “I’d hoped you’d ask me,” J.D. said. “They hurt my friend. He didn’t do anything except not tell them where I was.”

  “I heard. He’s doing ok, by the way. I just asked his nurse.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been asking, too.”

  “Like I said, I’m going to do what I can for you. I’ll talk to the DA.”.

  J.D. figured it wouldn’t hurt to mention something. “The Black Bloods have a lot of members in prison. I need to be put in one far away. Real far.”

  The cop looked surprised. “Look, I can’t promise anything, but with what you’ve done, I’m gonna ask for probation.”

  J.D. wasn’t sure if he heard him right. “Ask for what?”

  “Probation.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “’Cause I don’t think you’re really a bad kid. Just made some bad decisions.”

  J.D. felt his chest tighten. “The only one who ever said that about me was my grandma.”

  “She must have been a smart woman,” the cop said.

  • • •

  Chloe refilled her glass. They had gone through one and a half bottles of Cab. They weren’t drunk, but were on their way to being non-sober silly. Thankfully, they’d only talked about good things. About Sheri cold-cocking Bradley Butler for trying to look up her dress. About the hot quarterback in eleventh grade, David Mosely, and the time he decided to run naked through the gym. They had, of course, been two of the lucky ones who got to see it all.

  Unfortunately, at the first lull in conversation, Sheri had turned the television on, minus sound.

  The local news was on and Chloe gasped when she saw the screen fill with Cary’s face. He looked miserable. “Turn it up,” Chloe insisted.

  The reporter’s voice boomed into the room. “Glencoe’s mayor had already held a press conference, expressing sympathy for the family of the teens who are in the hospital. “The detective who shot the sixteen-year-old Pablo Santiago is being questioned, and an investigation is ongoing.”

  Chloe covered her mouth, her chest filled with empathy. “He shot a kid?” They showed his image again, and she could see the emotion in his eyes. He was hurting.

  And right then her phone, buried in her purse, rang.

  • • •

  Cary couldn’t freaking believe it. He’d called her name out as soon as he’d walked in. Only silence echoed back. He dropped the pizza on the table and went to see if she’d fallen asleep in his bed.

  She wasn’t there, asleep or otherwise.

  He stopped in the hall. “Cupcake? Kitty, kitty?”

  Not a sound, not even a low meow answered his call. He made his way to the extra bedroom. The litter box was gone.

  “Shit! Where is she?” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed. It went to voicemail.

  “Hey, Chloe, it’s me, Cary. I’m home and . . . you’re not home . . . I mean, you’re not here.” This wasn’t her home, but . . . “I, uh, I guess maybe I just assumed you would be. I mean, now I remember you saying something about not staying more than one night, but . . . I don’t know, I just thought. . .” He paused again, realizing he sucked at leaving messages, but he kept talking. “Where are you? Is everything okay? Call me. I was really looking forward to seeing you.”

  • • •

  By the time Chloe got her phone out, it had gone to voice mail. She waited a few minutes and then listened to his message. It felt as if her heart broke apart.

  “What did he say?” Sheri asked.

  She swallowed. “I have to call him.” She started to dial his number.

  “Wait,” Sheri said.

  “For what?” Chloe asked.

  Sheri frowned. “What are you going to do?”

  Chloe bit down on her lip. “I don’t know. Should I go see him? Make sure he’s okay?”

  Sheri made a face. “Maybe. I mean . . . could you do that and not end up jumping his shit?”

  Chloe sighed. “For about five minutes.” She dropped her face in her hands. “What am I going to tell him?”

  “The truth might work,” Sheri sai
d and frowned.

  Chloe nodded. “But doesn’t he have enough on his plate.”

  Sheri sighed. “See there it is again. You’re worried about hurting him. If he’s guilty of what you think he’s guilty of, he deserves to be hurt. Do you think he’s guilty?”

  When Chloe just stood there unsure of anything, Sheri sighed. “Okay, he’s had a hell of a day. I wouldn’t tear him a new asshole right now, but just tell him you met his girlfriend. Who knows, maybe he’ll have an excuse.”

  She nodded. “ Okay, I can do this.” She dialed the number. Her heart raced, her palms began to sweat.

  “Chloe?” he answered on the first ring and sounded so relieved.

  “Yes.”

  “Where . . . where are you?”

  “I . . . I had. . .” Oh, hell. She recalled the look on his face when he’d appeared on the television. “I saw the news. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I’d be much better if you were here.”

  “Yeah, well, I had to . . .” The words stuck in her throat.

  “Had to what? Is it your grandmother?”

  She took another deep breath. “Yeah. I . . . I’m at the airport. About to go to Florida.” Chloe saw Sheri shake her head.

  “What? Damn, I really. . .” He paused and then said, “How bad is it?”

  He sounded so concerned that her chest filled with liquid pain. “Not . . . real bad. I was just . . . I felt I should be there.”

  “Okay.” He got quiet. “What about your bakery?”

  She paused. “Sheri and Amber are helping me.”

  “Where in Florida are you going?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes. “Clearwater.”

  There was another pause. “Would you like . . . I could come there. You know, just to give you some moral support. What time does the plane take off?”

  The knot in her throat doubled in size. “No. I . . . uh. It’s gonna be crazy. I’ll call you when. . .” When I feel strong enough to tell you and I think you’re strong enough to hear it. “When I’m back in town.”

  Silence filled the line. Awkward silence. The kind so void of noise that it sounded loud. “I really wouldn’t mind coming,” he said.