“Hi, Regina. Where's Leo? And how come you're answering his cell phone?”
“It's the reopening at the Maddox in Manhattan. Leo left his phone in the office and I noticed you calling. I hope you don't mind that I picked up. You've called so many times that I thought something might be wrong. Is everything okay?”
No, it wasn't actually. “Everything is fine. I've just been having a hard time getting a hold of Leo. When you see him, will you please have him call me?”
“Yes, of course. Goodbye, Maggie,” she said and then we both hung up.
So...Leo and Clara were both in New York. Why did that make me feel like someone just stole my favorite pair of shoes? I had to speak to Leo—no more messing around. Without missing a beat, I quickly googled the main number to the Maddox Hotel in Manhattan and then dialed.
“You've reached the Maddox International Hotel and Tower. Located on the Upper West Side, Central Park, Lincoln Center, Fifth Avenue. Where ordinary hotels simply provide you a room, we welcome you to an entire city...” The message rattled on, and by the time I reached an actual person, I’d lost my patience.
“Hello, how may I—”
“Yes,” I said in the most authoritative voice I could muster. “I need to speak with Mr. Leo Maddox immediately. It's a matter of urgency.”
“May I ask who is calling?”
“This is NYPD. My name is Detective Agent Ryder. Mr. Maddox and I met a couple weeks ago and I have a private matter to discuss with him. Please get him on the line for me. Like I said, this matter is of the utmost urgency.”
“What exactly is a Detective Agent? That sounds like a fake title to me. I'm sorry I can't get Mr. Maddox for you. We have zero tolerance for prank calls.”
“This isn't a prank! Why don't you at least tell Mr. Maddox who's calling and let him be the judge of whether we speak or not.”
The man huffed on the other line. “One moment please.”
A couple of minutes ticked by. “Hello? Clara?” Leo's voice came across the line sounding genuinely worried. “What are you doing calling this line? Is something wrong?”
“Yes!” I shouted. “And this is Maggie, not Clara. Why would you automatically assume Clara was calling?”
“Because who else would come up with Detective Agent Ryder?”
I laughed, only because that did sound like Clara. Then the smile left as quickly as it came and I snapped back to serious mode. “How come you haven't been answering my phone calls? And what's going on with you and Clara? I know she ran you over with a golf cart.”
“I'm fine. I just have a bruise the size of Texas on my ass.”
I couldn't help it when I laughed again. Why was I being so darn giggly? “Maybe you deserved it. I also just found out you're both in New York. How do you explain that?”
“Wow, Detective Agent Ryder, impressive skills of deduction.” His voice was strained and flooded with impatience. “Did you figure all that out on your own?”
“Leo. Stop, please.”
“I’m not trying to be mean. I haven't been answering your phone calls because this is exactly what I was afraid of—the voice of reason. Yes, Clara is in New York. I invited her and she came. For the first time in my life, she doesn't completely hate me.” He stopped and sighed deeply, and I had a sinking feeling I was not going to like what he would say next. “This is probably going to come as a shock, but I have a thing for Clara. I have for a long time now. I've been afraid to talk to you about it because I know you'll bring me back down to reality and tell me how stupid I'm being for getting my hopes up over this. I'm scared shitless, but I don't want to come back down to reality, Maggie.”
Oh. My. God! A thing! A thing? A THING! I could barely breathe. I could barely think. And how on earth was I supposed to respond to that? Oh, good for you. I'm so happy for you both. Please, invite me to your wedding.
“Maggie? Are you still there?”
“I'm here,” I said, my voice uncontrollably shaky. I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep from falling apart. “This is good, Leo. Really good.”
“You mean that?”
Heck no. “Yes, I think it's very good.”
Leo had Mommy issues and abandonment issues and a whole pile of other issues. He didn't date like other guys dated—he typically screwed girls once and then moved on. I think it was some kind of a defense mechanism to keep anyone from getting too close. Just hearing him express feelings for anyone was good for him.
Of course it bugged me that it was Clara, but I couldn't tell him that. I could hear the hope in his voice so, even though my stomach had turned to mush, I bit my tongue. “All I want is for you to be happy. This...this is good. Clara still sucks as a sister and I can't stand all the dumb stuff she's constantly doing. I mean, really, who dyes their hair lavender?”
“It's pretty damn sexy,” he said in a low voice without an ounce of hesitation. “You'll hate it, but I love it.”
“Ew, la, la, la,” I said, covering one of my ears with my hand, despite the fact that he couldn’t see me. “We better set some ground rules before this goes any further.” Leo laughed and I thought up some rules on the spot. “Rule number one. No talking about anything physical because I don't ever want to hear about that. Rule number two, you have to keep our friendship one hundred and ten percent separate from anything that happens between you and her. No matter what. Number three, if Clara and I get in fights—like you know we will—you always have to pick her side. Her side will be the irrational, moronic side and secretly you'll agree with me, but I'll be the bigger person and forgive you in advance for siding with her.”
Leo laughed even harder—I loved his laugh. And I knew no matter what, it felt wonderful hearing him laugh like that. Leo's mother left when he was young. She didn't say goodbye or come back to visit or ever contact him over the years. And his Dad was worse. Maybe he stuck around, but that didn't mean he'd ever been a loving or caring parent. I was Leo's best friend—the through thick and thin type—and all I wanted was for him to be happy. And today, for the first time in a long time, he sounded pretty darn happy.
Still, there was a little piece of me that wished it could be anyone but Clara that he was gushing over. Even Regina would have been a better choice because the odds of Clara breaking his heart and smashing it into smithereens were beyond astronomical. Not that I knew much about my sister's love life. But if I had to guess, I'd say her track record with guys had to be disastrous—I bet she dated and dumped them like yesterday’s garbage. That was just her personality. Flaky. Indecisive. Immature.
“I can't believe you're okay with this,” Leo said. “I thought you were gonna freak the fuck out on me.”
I giggled again. Darn it, I really needed to stop doing that. I switched back to my serious mode. “I do want to say one ‘voice of reason’ thing. Just one. It's about Clara and Andrew. Is she still with him?”
He took a few long moments to respond. “I honestly don't know,” he said. “I got a little worked up Friday night because I thought maybe Andrew might mean something to her. But when I saw her with him, I could tell she despised him as much as the rest of us. Which really makes me wonder—what the hell was the show for?”
I huffed, kicking the covers off my legs. “Probably just to hurt me.”
“Don't be so judgmental—not yet. Let me ask her about it and see what she says before you start World War III. Although, I’ll have to admit, I was more thrown by her reaction to seeing Robby.”
“How so?”
“Just that he got a reaction out of her at all. I know you both had a crush on him back in the day, and—”
“Don't, Leo. Don't start that. You are your own worst enemy. That was ages ago and she came with you to New York, didn't she? That has to mean something. You're perfect, Leo. You're sweet and kind and she'd be lucky to have you. Just let her in—let her finally see the real you.”
There was a long pause on the other line. “The real me is what I'm afraid of,” he finally said wit
h a groan, his frustrations seeping through the phone line. “But about Robby or Dean or whoever the fuck that was on Friday...when I get home, we'll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”
“That won't be necessary. I don’t plan on ever seeing him again.”
“We could only hope, but doesn't it seem odd that the jackass randomly shows up after six years? And with a whole new name? Nobody just randomly shows up in Blue Creek. And nobody changes their name unless they have something to hide. Something's up, Mags. And as soon as I get home on Monday, I'm going to figure out what it is and put an end to it.”
“Okay.” There was never any use arguing with him and plus, something else was bothering me more than the mysterious reappearance of my former step-brother. “But Leo, don’t you ever ignore my phone calls again. No matter what. Remember? You and me against the world. Always.”
“Always. But I’m tired of fighting the world, Mags. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Monday,” I repeated, my voice quivering slightly.
CHAPTER 10
CLARA
Sleeping in on a Sunday never felt so good. I woke with a refreshing calm blanketing me. In her twin bed beside me, Steph was sawing some serious logs. Her mouth hung open and a crazy-big spot of slobber soaked her pillow. I resisted the urge to find my phone so I could snap a blackmail photo, continuing to rest instead. I welcomed the sounds of the city noise and the relief I felt. Leo was right—I had needed this little getaway.
Oh, holy monkey turds! Leo. The bar. The kiss. The beer dumping. My stupid proposal. Prove to me you aren't an ass and I'm all yours. Had I really said that? Really, Clara, c'mon! We'd shared one kiss and I'd offered myself up like he was Ian freaking Somerhalder? Ugh! How embarrassing! I was lucky he didn’t laugh in my face.
I clutched my knees to my chest, inwardly chastising myself. As the memories of last night began to wash over me like a bad nightmare, all feelings of sweet bliss flew right out the window.
The shock of it all hadn't had a chance to hit me until just now.
After leaving the bar and returning to Steph's place, I'd gone straight to bed. My just-right amount of alcohol consumption must have knocked me out easily. But that was then and this was now. Normally, I never dwelled, worried, regretted, or thought too hard about anything I said or did. I preferred the ‘fly by the seat of my pants’ approach to life. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from over-analyzing this.
Every single moment Leo and I had ever shared needed to be examined in a new light. Because I needed some kind of explanation as to how last night could have blindsided me, I dug through my memories. The last time I'd even seen Leo—before this weekend—had been months ago. Thanksgiving, maybe. The Maddox family—Leo, Mr. Maddox, and the usual assortment of Maddox cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents—had come to our house for football and turkey like they did every November. And just like many of our recent encounters, Leo and I hadn't even exchanged one word—mean, nice, or otherwise. Strangely enough, we had ended up sitting next to each other at the dinner table. Had that been a coincidence or had someone switched our name cards? Had Leo done it? Was that the day Leo's feelings for me had started?
No, not likely. I think two people had to at least look at each other for that sort of thing to happen. I racked my brain further in search of our last exchange of actual words and finally came up with a memory from last summer—ouch, not a good memory either.
Almost exactly a year ago, a sweltering heat wave had hit the East Coast. The muggy air had clung to my skin and frizzed my hair—despite my attempts at straightening it that day—into an unmanageable monstrosity, giving me yet another reason to long for Arizona and its dry heat. And when the air conditioning at our house had gone out, the only shred of relief could be found at the country club’s pool—so that's where I had ended up.
With a book and towel in hand, I exited the women's locker room, my flip-flops slapping on the pavement. I noticed Leo lounging by himself, sporting a white button-up shirt, navy suit, aviator sunglasses, and too much hair product for the pool. Naturally, I went to him. We'd known each other since birth, and even if I didn't like him much, I still felt some obligation to sit with him. We were both alone; it wasn't an unreasonable gesture on my part.
“Clara,” he said by way of a greeting.
“Leo. It's like eleventy-hundred degrees out here and you're fully dressed. Aren't you miserably hot?” Kicking off my flip-flops and spreading out my towel, I lay down uninvited beside him. I wore my strapless, one-piece Speedo, circa 1985. I couldn't fathom wearing even another ounce of clothing in this heat. So why was Leo overdressed? Was he so in love with his own clothes that he couldn't bear to take them off?
“I'm fine.”
“Whatever.”
I picked up my romance novel and was swiftly swept away by the words, paying little attention to the person sitting beside me. Whenever the temperature felt too hot or my book became too steamy, I took a quick dip in the pool before returning to my towel. An hour or two passed. In that time, Leo never changed into a bathing suit, never left his spot, and never said a single word.
Initially, being there with him wasn't so bad, but after a while his behavior started to bug me. Why was his shirt still on? Why was his hair perfectly styled for the pool? And why didn't he get in the water? But the biggest mystery of all was something I couldn't keep myself from asking. “Why are you here, Leo? The pool in your backyard is better than this one.”
His hands rested behind his head. Under the dark cover of his sunglasses, I noticed his eyes were closed, but I saw a flicker of movement at my words. “Hmm?”
“You have a pool in your backyard.”
“I'm aware.”
“So, why are you here?”
“If you're so annoyed by my presence, you don't have to sit next to me. Nobody's breaking your arm.”
I rolled my eyes. Was it always going to be like this between us? “We're adults now. I sat by you because I wanted to.” Not the full truth but whatever. “Why can't we just get along? And I do really want to know...why this pool?”
He took a deep, relaxed breath. “Relentless, aren't you?”
I shrugged. Was being relentless a crime? I glanced around. What was so damn special about this pool? Other people, perhaps. There were a rather large number of attractive guys here today, something I hadn't noticed before. And then something dawned on me that I had never considered—something I wondered aloud. “Are you gay, Leo?”
I regretted the words the moment they slipped out. Leo shot to his feet in an instant and yanked off his sunglasses, giving me a clearer view of his blazing eyes. “Do you spend your free time just trying to think of ways to purposely piss me the fuck off, Clara? Because you're really good at it and it's working out too well for you.”
I scrambled to my feet, my hands landing on my hips. “No,” I said in a low voice, trying not to draw any additional attention. “If you're gay, you can tell me. I wouldn't tell anyone else.”
“I want to know why you're asking me this,” he said through gritted teeth.
Jeez la weez. “I don't know. You always dress so well—better than girls—and you have such a weird friendship with Maggie. I've never seen you with a girl or even heard Maggie mention you dating someone. Don't be such a homophobe, it was an honest question.”
“First, you assume I'm gay and now you accuse me of being a homophobe. Which is it, Clara?” he groaned. “I have a question for you. Are you gay?”
I blinked up at him. “What?”
“Where's your boyfriend? Where are all of your girl friends? I haven't seen you with either. You certainly excelled at being a tomboy growing up. And even now, even when you go to the pool—” He glanced deliberately down at my bathing suit. “You can't dress for shit. So why don’t you satisfy my curiosity…are you a lesbian? If you are, you can tell me. I wouldn't tell anyone else.”
I hadn't asked him if he was gay to be mean, but somehow he took m
y words, turned them inside out, and used them against me. I wanted to punch him in his face or worse, but I did no such thing. My best defense mechanism—indifference—came rushing to my rescue. I yawned, acting as if this conversation was boring the crap out of me, and stared blankly up at him. “Grow up,” I said, dropping to my butt and lying back down on my towel.
“We will never get along,” he groaned, glaring down at me, the sun shining around his silhouette like a gold lining. “Because you will never stop infuriating me. If you must know, I came to the pool today because I wanted some company—or at least the illusion of it—but I'd prefer being alone to being with you.”
“You're blocking my sun,” I said, ready for this pointless conversation to be over.
He groaned again, even louder this time. “You're insufferable. I hope your milky-white skin burns. And buy a bikini. You aren't eighty or fat, so I don't get why you're always wearing that damn thing.”
I let out a slow breath. On the inside my blood turned to lava, but I kept all expression off my face. “This suit used to be my mother's, asshole. Now can you please move? You really are blocking my light.”
Leo walked away without saying another word.
Now that I think about it, Leo and I didn't speak again that summer. But my “milky-white skin”—as he so delicately put it—had burned. I think God had been on Leo's side because I looked like a lobster for a whole week after that fight.
Knock, knock.
Someone banged on Steph's door, ripping me from thoughts. Grateful for the interruption, I poked Snoring Beauty in the ribs. “Wake up.”
“Mommy, no. I won't eat the cornbread, it's stale.”
“Steph!”
“What?” She rolled, falling from the bed, and landed straight on the hardwood floor below.
Steph's bedroom door squeaked open. “Sorry, Stephany. I hate to wake you, but there's a guy in a black suit at the door for you. He has a package, but he won't just leave it with me. He says it has to be you.”
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