by Mary Strand
Uncle Ed peered at me in the rearview mirror. “Should I turn the air conditioning up higher?”
“No, thanks.” It was already blasting at arctic.
“What’s the matter, Liz?” Concern in her eyes, Aunt Molly reached over the seat and touched my hand. “We don’t have to go to Alex’s house for dinner.”
“I said we can go, okay?” Geez. Aunt Molly really knew how to sink her claws into a girl. Despite the major blowup we’d never fixed, I wished Jane were here. I needed reinforcements.
“But?”
I stared at the back of Aunt Molly’s head, since she was facing forward again, giving Uncle Ed intricate directions to our hotel that he appeared to be ignoring. “But what’s the point of some fancy-schmancy dinner with strangers? I’m happy with McDonald’s.”
Aunt Molly sniffed. “I’m not. And they’re not strangers. At least, not to you.”
“But we could eat anywhere. It’s just a house, Aunt Molly, and I really don’t know Alex that well.”
She waved a hand. “It’s not just any house. The place is a showcase, inside and out. I’ve seldom seen such extensive grounds, all manicured to within an inch of their life. A walk around the yard and gardens would be marvelous.”
I groaned. “It’s not a home-and-garden tour, Aunt Molly. He just invited us to dinner.”
“And we’ll squeeze in a tour. Trust me. Turn left there, Ed. It’s a shortcut.”
Uncle Ed kept driving straight. Having seen a few of Aunt Molly’s “shortcuts” before, I had to agree with Uncle Ed. I only wished someone would agree with me. I didn’t want to have dinner with Alex. Or lunch or breakfast, either.
Breakfast? Stop that thought!
Chapter 19
“And of this place,” thought she, “I might have been mistress!”
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter One
Back at the hotel, Aunt Molly took one look at the outfit I tossed on my bed, then rummaged through my duffle bag until she found something she liked better.
A short skirt? How did that land in my bag?
An hour later, we were on Alex’s doorstep, ringing the bell. As we waited, I tugged at the back of my skirt, which kept riding halfway up to the North Pole. I’d packed it during the same moronic moment I’d packed my purchases from Victoria’s Secret, which thankfully Aunt Molly hadn’t scooped up in her frantic rummaging. A frothy pink, lacy bra tingled on my skin. It was so see-through, I kept fighting the urge to peek down to see if too much of me was showing.
I’d bought this bra along with a black push-up that sent my boobs to the moon. Talk about mortifying! Don’t people notice when you suddenly have Boobs? Like, you didn’t yesterday and then God reached out a finger and zapped you with silicone? I just couldn’t pull the trigger on wearing the push-up bra. So, instead, everyone will notice that I have Nipples.
The front door swung open. Alex, in a polo shirt and creased khakis, welcomed us inside, almost as if he were glad we were there. I frowned. Had he been drinking?
As he led us to the living room, I kept trying to focus my gaze on something other than his butt. Unluckily, Alex happens to have a great butt, so it wasn’t really my fault that I kept looking. At least I didn’t drool.
Aunt Molly drooled, though, over every little thing. The chandelier in the front hall, the oriental rugs, the ornate wallpaper, the dark wood. Alex shrugged at the praise, mumbling that his mother had loved to decorate.
I didn’t see anything that looked like Alex. It was nice, but Alex lived with his dad in a mansion dedicated to his mom. Okay, that wasn’t so different from me, except for the mansion part. But it almost felt like Alex’s mom was still here, checking out the girls Alex paraded through the place.
The thought was a little creepy.
We passed under an arch at the end of the front hallway, took a left and a right and another left, and finally reached the sports arena Alex called the living room. Stephanie—dolled up and pumped out to there—sat, arms crossed and grim, but Charlie leaped to his feet. A moment later, with Charlie tugging at her arm, Stephanie grudgingly stood up, too.
“Liz.” Icicles frosted her tongue. “Good to see you.”
Charlie trotted over to me and gave me a big bear hug, stunning me and everyone else in the room. “Liz! You look great.”
I could’ve sworn I heard a snort from Stephanie’s direction. She wore a skirt even shorter than mine, bright yellow and plastered to her thighs, and it looked like she’d skipped undies. Well, except for the bra, unless she’d used Charlie’s money to buy some boobs this summer.
After babbling about the weather and his tennis game and finally introducing himself to Aunt Molly and Uncle Ed, Charlie started stammering. “And your, um, family? How is everyone? I-I mean, how do they look?” He shook his head. “I mean, how is she?”
I lifted one eyebrow. “Jane?”
He nodded, reminding me of a bobblehead.
I didn’t want to make Jane look pathetic, not after Charlie dumped Jane and then blew me off in that email. “She’s good. Her internship at Minnesota Monthly didn’t stop her from working on her tan all summer.”
Charlie swallowed hard. “Her tan?”
Okay, I mentioned Jane’s tan intentionally, to bug him, but it was just a tan. In summer. No big deal. Charlie really needed to chill.
I shrugged. “I’d rather play volleyball or waterski, but Jane just likes to lie on a beach and soak up the sun.”
I could tell Charlie was picturing Jane in a bikini. He looked almost as pathetic as Jane had looked since he left, like a kid who’d lost his favorite toy.
Too bad Jane was the toy in question.
The more I thought about it, the whole conversation with Charlie felt way too weird. Actually, it felt normal—same old Charlie, the puppy who used to wag his tail at Jane—but it didn’t make sense. Why hadn’t he kept in touch with Jane? And had someone other than Charlie sent me that email?
Before I could say something, Aunt Molly started to wander around the room and Uncle Ed brought up the little bridge incident with Alex, who chuckled and insisted on telling Stephanie about it, even though she obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass. Charlie pulled me aside, casually, like he was asking me about the World Series.
“It seems like forever since I’ve seen you, Liz.”
I tilted my head. “It is practically forever. But I tried to call you. I mean, despite what happened between Jane and you, I thought we were friends.” Okay, I didn’t, but it sounded better than the truth. “And I sent you that email.”
His face went blank. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced at Stephanie, who was shooting me death glares from across the room. “I called you in February, and Stephanie said you’d call back in a couple of weeks. When you never did, I sent you an email. In March.”
He blanched. “I never got it. The message or any emails.”
“But you wrote back to me.”
“I did?” Frowning, Charlie shook his head. Frantically. “What I mean is, I didn’t. And I keep trying to get Jane to talk to me, but she swears she won’t. She—”
Alex cut in on us, claiming dinner was ready. At this point, I figured Stephanie had torpedoed my attempts to reach Charlie, but was Alex part of her nasty plot? And what was going on with Jane? Charlie had been trying to reach her?
I’d been so pissed at Jane all these months, I didn’t even talk to her anymore about Charlie. Why bother? But should I believe Charlie? And not Jane?
Argh. I couldn’t figure it out right now.
For one thing, Alex wasn’t acting like himself. He started to grab my arm, thought better of it, then touched the small of my back to prod me toward a sliding-glass door that opened onto a large deck and the infamous swimming pool. Wow. The deck didn’t look at all like Alex’s mom. It held the biggest grill I’d ever seen outside of a restaurant. Little round tables and matching chairs and a couple of chaise lounges circled the pool. The wat
er shimmered in the early-evening sunlight.
I’d kill for a swim, except for the fact that I hadn’t brought a swimsuit and no one else was swimming and a million other excellent reasons, most of which ended with Alex.
And I’d turned this guy down for a date?
Still. You don’t date a guy because he has a swimming pool and a deck and grill and a huge house and a trillion dollars in his bank account. Those are just bonuses. You date him because he makes you all hot and bothered.
Unfortunately, my temperature was rising.
But Alex? He looked calm, cool, and unwrinkled. Same as always. The thought put several much-needed ice cubes on my overheated skin. He also wasn’t saying much, but he was being nice, just like this afternoon at the art gallery. Not aloof. Not snotty. In short, not Alex.
I kept thinking back to him asking me out in Fargo, and how rude he’d been. And yet...this wasn’t the same Alex. I hadn’t changed. Had he?
We sat down to burgers and corn on the cob. Nothing hoity-toity like lobster or caviar or some French-sounding thing, and it wasn’t served by a butler. Alex grilled, Charlie passed plates around, and Stephanie ignored me.
Basically, except for the huge question mark with Charlie, everything was good. The only problem? It was becoming way too easy to like Alex.
We didn’t stay long after dinner. Stephanie moaned about the headache she’d gotten in late afternoon, probably the instant I arrived, and Aunt Molly was tired from a day of gallivanting. I’d spent too many nerve-wracking hours wondering when Alex would return to normal.
As we were leaving, Alex asked if I played tennis—duh—which turned into an invitation for brunch and tennis and lazing by the pool. I thought Stephanie was going to puke. As Alex turned to say something to me, Stephanie didn’t bother to hide her irritation.
“Liz, I hate to ask, but I thought you said you got some sun this summer.”
Alex gave me the once-over. “She has a great tan. And you’ve obviously been working out, Liz. You said you love volleyball? I should put up a net.”
Stephanie’s voice squeaked. “But you like tennis.”
Alex shrugged. “Liz plays that, too. I’m happy to play whatever she likes.”
As I gulped, Stephanie turned and ran up the stairs.
We returned to the hotel and, amazingly, Aunt Molly and Uncle Ed toddled off to their room, leaving me to collapse in mine. No inquisition. No mention of Alex at all. Puzzled, I curled up in bed with a book and stared blankly at the pages. Finally, I tossed it aside and shut off the lights. And lay awake in bed for hours, staring at a dark ceiling.
I didn’t hate Alex. Had I ever hated him? Okay, yeah. He’d been a total jerk, especially to Jane. But he was so nice today. Not puppy-dog nice, like Charlie, but the lean, mean, grown-up version. A dangerous, sexy form of nice.
Okay, Alex is hot.
But it’s more than that, and I don’t mean his Lamborghini. Had I changed my attitude when I saw how loaded Alex was? We’re talking a mansion with a gazillion bedrooms and bathrooms, a swimming pool, and tennis courts. We’re also talking serious bling potential. But am I a bling girl? Would it go with rock-band T-shirts and sweatpants and the holes in my jeans? Would Alex go with any of that?
No clue.
So what’s a girl to do? Well, whack tennis balls and swim and have brunch with the guy. For starters.
First thing the next morning, I passed on a swim with Aunt Molly in the postage-stamp pool and hung out in my room. I still hadn’t heard from Jane, even after I zipped a text message to her last night: “Saw Charlie!”
I tried Jane’s cell phone. No answer, and the phone at home was busy every time I called, so I decided to head to the pool. Just as I tossed my cell phone in my beach bag, it rang. I fumbled for it before finally answering. “Jane?”
“Oh, Liz.” A muffled sob greeted me.
“What? You’re pissed that I hunted down Charlie? I didn’t. I didn’t even hunt down Alex. I think Aunt Molly might’ve, but she’s so good I can’t pin it on her. Not definitely.”
“Liz, I don’t care about Charlie.” A sniff, followed by a hiccup. “It’s—it’s Lydia.”
My heart beat faster and, knowing Lydia, I imagined the worst. “What happened? Is she okay?” Is she alive?
Jane paused. “Well, she’s not pregnant.”
“Not pregnant? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s how she dropped the news to Dad on the phone. From the Milwaukee police station.”
I collapsed on the bed even as relief shot through me. Lydia arrested. She’d probably been stopped for speeding—even though she didn’t have a car—and told off the cop. What a twit. “What are the charges? Driving without a brain?”
“She wasn’t driving.”
“Underage drinking? She finally got nailed?”
“She got nailed, but not for drinking, although she was in a bar.”
My forehead wrinkled. “I give up.”
“Prostitution.”
I laughed. “Funny. Lydia had a job this summer. She was actually making money, and even if she weren’t, she could’ve come back home and sat on her butt. Like always.”
Jane sighed. “She didn’t dare come home. She got fired from her circus job on her second day.”
“Her second day? In June? What did she do?”
Jane took an audible gulp. “Bunny Fletcher caught Lydia with Zach.”
I snorted. “She flirts with every guy who walks by. Bunny must know she’s harmless. She’s known Lydia for months.”
“She caught them together in her bedroom.” As Jane’s voice rang in my ears, I sat rigid on the edge of my bed, waiting for the news to get worse. Jane started stumbling over her words. “He—he still had his clothes on, but Lydia was topless.”
“Topless?” My mind reeled as I tried not to picture it. “Come on, Jane. Even for Lydia, that’s too much.”
“According to Lydia, Zach didn’t believe all her bragging about how big her boobs were, claiming she was just wearing a padded bra.” Like Stephanie probably wore. Like I’d finally bought. “When Bunny described the mole on Lydia’s left breast, I thought Dad was going to pass out.”
“Fine. So she kicked out Lydia, who deserved it, but Lydia didn’t come home. Where did she go?”
“Er, with Justin Truesdale.”
“No!”
“She stayed at his apartment for a while, but he got fired too, about a week later.”
“For sleeping with Zach? Or did he do Bunny?”
“Liz!”
I bit my lip. There wasn’t anything I could do for Lydia. I wasn’t a criminal defense lawyer, and I wasn’t a pimp.
Finally, Jane piped up again. “Apparently, Justin had been stealing money from the circus and some of the performers. They couldn’t prove it, so he wasn’t arrested, but he scooted out of town before they called the police.”
“And took Lydia with him? Why?”
“No clue.” Jane’s voice sounded garbled; she’d obviously spent too much time crying. For Lydia the twit. “They went to Milwaukee. Justin took her to a strip bar, and Lydia started pole dancing, naked except for a thong, then lap-dancing, and then a group of drunken guys dragged her to a back room.” A big sniffle. “It sounds horrifying.”
“Even by Lydia’s standards.” I looked down at my knuckles, which had turned white as they gripped the bedspread, kneading it into a tight bundle. “God, Jane. Is she okay?”
“Luckily, the police came when they did. Before anything worse happened. But they arrested Lydia for prostitution, and Justin for pimping and resisting arrest and doing all sorts of illegal things with a minor, even though Lydia and Justin both claimed it was all...an accident.”
“An accident? Which part of it?”
“That’s exactly what Dad said.” Jane sighed.
“So where’s Lydia now?”
“In a juvenile detention facility in Milwaukee. Dad’s there, too, trying to get it straightened out. Phi
l Donnelly is with him, doing all the legal stuff and probably trying to keep Dad from killing Lydia.”
Talk about justifiable homicide. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s holed up in her bedroom, refusing to eat, crying hysterically, and calling out for her baby.”
“So much for Mom’s legal training.”
“Oh, Liz. I thought Dad was going to have a heart attack. Mom’s a mess, and Mary’s being sanctimonious, and Cat just whines about Lydia having all the fun.”
I was so stunned I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t my parents have considered birth control after I’d been born? “How are you dealing with all this?”
“I—I haven’t slept a wink. I hate to mess up your trip, but could you possibly come home? Like, now?”
“I’m only here another few days.”
“Please? I need you, Liz. It’s so hard.”
Crap. I frowned, trying to imagine what Jane was going through. What they were all going through. But I couldn’t stand the thought of flying home for Lydia of all people. I wanted to kill that brat the first chance I got.
I hung up without making any promises, then dashed down the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. Aunt Molly stood in the lobby, dripping wet, her cell phone to her ear, her face ashen. I started toward her, but she waved me off.
I spun around, looking for Uncle Ed, when Alex showed up. In tennis clothes, a tennis racquet over his shoulder. No. Alex, Mr. Squeaky Clean, would see my family right when it hit the skanky side of disreputable.
I had to get rid of him. “Sorry, but I can’t talk now. Emergency at home.”
Aunt Molly turned just then, spotted the two of us talking, and shook her head sharply as she moved farther away.
I sank onto a sofa as Jane’s words hit me like a squadron of fighter jets at warp speed. What a mess. I felt so stupid, knowing what a schmuck Justin was, but not warning Lydia or even Dad. Not that Lydia would’ve given a rat’s ass, but maybe Dad wouldn’t have let her loose on Wisconsin Dells.