Pride, Prejudice, and Push-Up Bras

by Mary Strand

  “You don’t?” Was she kidding? “Because you never did give him yours? Hey, if you want the info, I can find it.” I stood there, biting my lip, wondering what I should do. “But let’s get you away from the computer.” I grabbed her arm and led her upstairs to our room. A conversation like this didn’t need Mom’s prying eyes or ears.

  Jane flopped on her bed. I sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting for her to say something. She kept sniffling.

  “Geez, Jane. You know Charlie lives in New York. Of course he has to go back there.”

  I told myself I was happy he’d finally left and might not be coming back. Right this moment, though, The Book didn’t matter as much as the big fat tear rolling down Jane’s cheek.

  On the other hand, he did live in New York. If he and Jane were as tight as I thought, wouldn’t they have talked about this? About how—or if—they could manage a long-distance romance? And was Charlie really going back to New York to hook up with someone else?

  It didn’t sound like the Charlie I’d met.

  “He’s not coming back. None of them.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Charlie’s the only one we’d miss. I hope Stephanie and Alex stay in New York.”

  Jane shook her head against the pillow.

  I cooed softly at her. “He’ll be back. After the deal’s done, he’ll probably have to come here to check on things.” What things, I didn’t have a clue. But it sounded plausible.

  Jane rolled over onto one side, facing me. “How can you say that? You saw Stephanie’s email. He went to New York. He’s seeing someone else.” Another huge sniffle. I reached for the Kleenex box and tossed it to her. It hit her and bounced onto the floor. “He’s hooking up with someone.”

  I snorted. “It could be a guy. Like, for work.”

  She rolled to a slouched sitting position, her back reminding me of Quasimodo. “You’re just saying that.”

  “Fine. You’re right. Charlie’s already hot on someone else, even though he’s been hot on you for the last two months.” I shook my head. “I can’t blame him. Take a peek in the mirror, babe. You look like hell.”

  She did, of course. Red eyes and tangled hair and mascara zooming in a river down her cheeks.

  “It’s not like he ever actually asked me out. Like, on a real date. Or hardly even kissed me.”

  “He kissed you?” I blinked, startled but happy to seize on a juicy distraction. “And I’m hearing this now? When? Where? Details!”

  Jane glared at me.

  I just laughed. “By any chance did all this kissing happen the night you stayed at Charlie’s? After you got drunk? Did he take you out to the balcony and have his way with you?”

  She flushed to the roots of her hair, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “The balcony. Right before I, er, threw up over the side.”

  I slapped my thigh. “No wonder he ran to New York. He wants someone who doesn’t throw up when he kisses her.”

  “Liz!”

  I shook my head, grinning. “Kidding. I’m kidding!”

  She didn’t see the humor in the situation. Or, to be honest, the reality. Looking at Jane’s face, solemn and pale, I wondered what the reality was. At a minimum, Jane was in school in Minnesota and Charlie ran a big company in New York. It wasn’t exactly ideal. Had he been playing her? I resolved to find Charlie’s email address or, better yet, phone number. It shouldn’t be tough. But geez. If I didn’t fix this fast, she might not survive. Talk about a fragile romance.

  Jane sighed. “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, and I appreciate it, but I keep thinking about Stephanie’s email.”

  I cocked one eyebrow. “Delete it.”

  She shook her head. She seemed to be visibly shrinking. “It feels like my only—my only lifeline to Charlie.”

  “Jane, I have a feeling she’s not exactly a life preserver where you’re concerned.” Bad thoughts whirled through my head, all pointing at Stephanie. “I think you need to forget about her and focus on Charlie.”

  “At least she wrote to me. Charlie never did. He’s never coming back.” Jane shook her head, tangled hair spilling all over her face.

  I love Jane, I swear I do, but at the moment she needed a good smack upside the head. “Stephanie is totally scamming you. Don’t you see it? She just wishes Alex ever looked at her the way Charlie looks at you. If he did, even once, she’d already be registering for china.”

  “You just don’t like Stephanie.”

  I held up my hands. “You’ve got me there.”

  She didn’t even smile, and her voice came out as a soft whisper. “I want Charlie, Liz. I really do.”

  “Then you’ll have him. He’ll be back, I promise. You can take that one to the bank.”

  I just hoped the bank hadn’t moved to New York, too.

  Chapter 10

  “Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte—impossible!”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter Twenty-Two

  By dinnertime, Jane had calmed down enough for public viewing, and I told the rest of the family that, gee, by the way, Charlie had gone to New York for a few days. I knew Jane was on the verge of wailing that he’d be gone forever, though, so every time she got that look in her eye, I kicked her.

  I’d hate to see the bruises on her shin.

  What I didn’t see was Wild Bill. He hadn’t shown his face since he slithered out the door this morning, but he’d left his duffle bag in the guest bedroom, his clothes heaped on the floor, and his ten-year-old Honda parked at the curb. I could understand him—or anyone—skipping out on Mom’s dinner, but where did Bill plan to sleep?

  Suddenly horror-struck, I clapped my hand over my mouth. As the clatter of silverware from Lydia setting the table reached my ears, I dashed upstairs to call Rachel.

  “Liz?” She panted a bit, sounding out of breath.

  I couldn’t decide how to beg her forgiveness even for the possibility that Bill had ended up at her condo this morning. “I was wondering if you could solve a mystery for me. Have you seen Wild Bill?”

  She paused. Maybe he was right there, hovering by the phone, and she didn’t know how to groan politely. “Um, yes.”

  “Is he...there now?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded strained.

  I felt awful. I could do us both a favor and drag Rachel to our house, leaving Wild Bill to Norm and Doreen. I was about to suggest it when Rachel gave a little cough.

  “Liz? I really can’t talk. Bill and I were in the middle of playing Monopoly.”

  It was worse than I thought. “Yikes! Sorry! He spent the whole morning hitting on everyone here, and I had no idea he’d try you, too.” If he had. I mean, guys didn’t exactly hit on Rachel. But Bill acted like a guy who’d signed up for extra testosterone shots at the lab. “I feel like such a jerk.”

  “Oh, no hardship.”

  “But I thought your condo was such a mess.” Too big a mess to let me inside, but Bill was welcome? “If you want, I’ll come over and pretend I need you here. Without Wild Bill.”

  “I’m fine, Liz. Really.” She laughed, sounding a little more like herself. “Besides, it’s dinnertime. What is your mom planning to poison you with?”

  “Good point.” Too many of Mom’s casseroles had a name that included the word “surprise.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Rachel sounded awkward again, as if Bill was breathing down her neck. I still wanted to rescue her the first chance I got, but she had this martyrdom complex down cold.

  I finally gave up. “Okay. Send him back to us whenever you want. We’ve had a whole afternoon’s respite from him. I think it’s your turn.”

  Bill didn’t show up until almost nine p.m. I couldn’t believe his gall, but, then, I still couldn’t believe he’d shown up at our house in the first place, wanting to join Dad’s yoga center and then trying to hook up with me. And Lydia. And Cat. And only after first checking out Jane. Major ew. So I just said good-night and headed to the foot of the s
tairs, intent on another hour or so of reading. Bill mumbled he was leaving early in the morning.

  I somehow managed to keep from screaming and jumping three feet in the air. We were losing Wild Bill. Finally. Yeah, we’d also lost Charlie, so you might call it a wash, but I totally expected to see his cute little springer-spaniel face at our front door within the week. I counted on it.

  His gaze locked on the floor, Wild Bill then muttered something about coming back sometime. I looked at Dad, and we both looked at Mom, and we knew Mom would be at the hardware store first thing tomorrow, getting new deadbolts for the doors.

  Sure enough, Wild Bill left before dawn the next morning. I never even heard his car’s engine turn over. When I woke up and saw that he was gone, I twirled in a little happy dance. Life was trending upward.

  The trend lasted only until breakfast.

  Rachel dropped by around seven-thirty, which was weird, since Rachel—being Rachel—was usually in a mad dash to make it to school by seven. Accounting majors are like that.

  She turned down a mug of coffee and said she wasn’t hungry. Putting a hand on her stomach, she looked queasy—almost as if she had joined us last night for Mom’s tuna surprise, which had prompted numerous bathroom trips this morning.

  Mom had already left for work and Dad was oblivious, but Mary hung in there for the latest gossip. So Rachel kept nodding and giving me significant looks. I finally took the hint, gulped down the rest of my juice, and led the way downstairs to the rec room. The instant we reached the basement, Rachel shut the door tightly behind us. I figured she wanted to bludgeon me to death for making her put up with Wild Bill yesterday.

  I shook my head, still feeling awful about it. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Really. I—”

  She raised a hand. “I have something to say, Liz.” She paused, almost shaking, then gulped in a huge breath. “And I have to say it before I lose my nerve.”

  “You’re pissed. I really am so sorry.”

  She shoved me into an old beanbag chair in front of the big-screen TV. “Stop. Please. You’re making it worse, and it’s already pretty hard to say this.”

  I made a show of zipping my lip, then crossed my arms and settled in for her big announcement. She started pacing in front of me, and I craned my neck to watch her halting footsteps. Finally, she whirled, came back to where I was sitting, and dropped onto the carpet next to me.

  “Liz.” Her eyes looked huge. “I—I’m going to move to Fargo. With Bill Cooper.”

  I slapped my thigh. “Good joke. It was bad enough that he talked you into playing a rousing game of Monopoly. Tell me—does he cheat?”

  “I’m serious!” She looked away, twisting her fingers into pretzels in her lap. “He asked me out.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So? Of course he did. It’s what he does. But you wouldn’t. You’re not stupid.”

  Rachel swallowed hard. “I’m going to transfer to North Dakota State University next semester and, um, see where things go with Bill. I—I want to, Liz.”

  “No way!” I grabbed her arm until she met my gaze. “You barely know him, and you haven’t even dated him. Monopoly doesn’t count. I mean, come on. Switch from the U of M to NDSU to be with Bill Cooper? Are you crazy?”

  As Rachel’s face went chalk-white, I tried to point out that Bill had hit on four different girls in one day. It had to be some sort of record, but I doubted that Rachel would want to see it in the Guinness Book of World Records.

  She pursed her lips. “Do you really think no one else would want Bill just because you said no?”

  Well, I doubted anyone sane would ever hook up with Wild Bill, let alone move to Fargo with him—and up until this moment, I’d always given Rachel credit for being sane. Sure, Rachel wasn’t exactly overwhelmed with guys wanting to go out with her, but Bill? And moving to Fargo?

  “Have you thought about maybe dating the guy longer than twenty-four hours?” I bit my lip on all the other things I wanted to say. But this was Rachel. My friend. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just can’t believe it.”

  She looked stoic. “I won’t move there until January, so we’ll have a little time to get to know each other better.” Even though he’d left town already and she was here. Right. “I know this is sudden, and Bill admitted he’d asked you out.” Yeah. Not to mention Lydia and Cat. Like, yesterday. “But, really, this is good for me. I’m tired of living in a condo full of stupid inventions that Dad couldn’t quite make work.”

  I frowned. “Is this more about your parents? I know you’re not exactly a huge fan of the condo, but it doesn’t mean you have to move to Fargo. Especially with Bill.”

  “That’s another thing.” Rachel stared at her clenched hands, her lower lip trembling. “I didn’t think my parents would understand, so I didn’t tell them. About Bill.”

  My jaw dropped. “They think you’re just moving to Fargo for fun? And right after Bill hung out with you yesterday?”

  “I, uh, might’ve made up a story. Like, that I got a scholarship to NDSU, and it has a better accounting program.”

  “And your parents believed it?”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Dad doesn’t pay much attention to anything that isn’t related to his inventions, and Mom, well, she’s a little distracted lately.” She looked so sad—so hurt—that my heart ached for her. “Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to them. About Bill.”

  I was biting my lip so hard, I figured blood would start spurting any second. I stared at Rachel, depressed for her, wondering why she didn’t just ignore her parents. Didn’t we all have to deal with that? My dad spends half his life on a yoga mat and my mom is a bit wacked even when she’s on her bipolar meds. I mean, who thought this way? Other than Jane Austen, sure, but we’re talking two hundred years ago. Nowadays, even Jane Austen would settle for an apartment and maybe a cat to keep her company. She sure wouldn’t move to Fargo.

  “Liz?”

  “I don’t know what to say.” I wanted to slap her until she woke up from this nightmare, but it didn’t seem like a perfect solution.

  “I’m going to be happy, Liz. Really. Bill is a fun guy, and NDSU does have an accounting program, and, I mean, I can always come back if it doesn’t work out.”

  Somehow, though, I knew she wouldn’t. I pressed my lips together and bit back a weird urge to cry. If the odds of a decent life were so bad that a smart girl like Rachel thought she had to hook up with a loser like Bill Cooper, then I don’t think I even want to go out on a date.

  Like, ever.

  After Rachel practically flew out of my house, I trudged back to the kitchen to face a bowl of Lucky Charms that now looked as soggy as I felt.

  Rachel. Moving to Fargo. Hooking up with Wild Bill. I knew for a fact that I’d never again be able to call him that to Rachel’s face.

  I dumped out the Lucky Charms and, despite my mom’s rants about wastefulness and nameless starving children, poured a fresh bowl. I shouldn’t have bothered. I just stared at it, wondering if I should’ve seen this coming. Or if I could’ve said anything to make Rachel change her mind.

  Rachel was an idiot, but she was my friend.

  But not like before. I realized, right then, that things would never be the same between Rachel and me. In a few short weeks, Rachel would be in Fargo. Let’s face it: only Britney Spears does stuff like that.

  The week dragged by, and Charlie didn’t return. No emails or calls or smoke signals from New York, either. I didn’t say anything to Jane, who didn’t need any worries she wasn’t generating on her own.

  Saturday morning, I grabbed the far end of the living-room couch and flipped open my laptop, but not to do homework.

  An hour later, I’d caught up on a few blogs and the latest celebrity news. Oh, and I Googled Alex. I meant to type in Charlie Bingham but my fingers got stuck on A-l-e-x D-a-r-c-y. Go figure. Normally I’m good with a keyboard.

  Thanks to my uncontrollable fingers, I got a better handle on Alex than I had at all t
hose parties. His dad is wealthier than God, but Alex actually works. Until now, I’d wondered if he was employed as Charlie’s butler—since he’s so good with opening doors—or as Stephanie’s cabana boy.

  No such luck. Well, in Stephanie’s case.

  At only twenty-one, and after graduating a year early from Harvard, he’s a stock analyst and some sort of financial whiz-kid, although it didn’t explain what he’d been doing here with Charlie. Between his dad’s wealth and Alex’s work, though, no wonder the guy owns a Lamborghini. He probably owns whatever company makes Lamborghinis.

  Dang. Now I had to Google that, too.

  Shaking my head, I moved on to Charlie. In fifteen minutes, I found out a lot about him, too, including an email address and phone number at his company, which was headquartered in New York. I couldn’t find a cell-phone number for him, but I had his work info. Close enough.

  Jane noticed me hanging out on my laptop—everyone had, since they knew I’d rather be outside playing sports even on a windy, brisk day like today—and she must’ve known what I was doing. But she didn’t ask.

  So I waved the piece of paper with Charlie’s digits in front of her face. She snatched it out of my hand.

  Laughing, I reached for it. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m happy to call him for you. If you’re, like, too shy.”

  “I’ll call him.” She ran upstairs.

  With any luck, I thought, to grab her cell phone.

  On Thanksgiving, just as the first snowflakes of winter appeared, an email arrived from Stephanie Bingham.

  After a gasp from Jane, I raced to Mom’s computer—since Jane still hadn’t gotten her laptop back from Lydia, who’d probably traded it for liquor. From over Jane’s shoulder, I silently skimmed Stephanie’s email.

  From:steph69@nyhiplife.com

  To:jane.b@mail4u.net

  It’s so great to be back in New York! Charlie and I are spending Thanksgiving at Alex’s house in Connecticut. Cozy! Charlie’s been hanging out lately with a certain someone, but I’d love to see you again. Some day!