by Stacy Wise
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Look, last night I thought you might be in on it, and I was pissed. More than pissed. I told Shawn to kick my ass this morning. I needed to knock some of the fight out of me. As I was running down the driveway, things weren’t adding up, and I knew in my gut you weren’t involved.”
Leo snorts, and I kneel to rub the spot behind his ears that he likes. “Thanks. And I’m truly sorry.”
He shoves a hand through his sweat-slick hair and fixes his blue eyes on me. “I believe you.” His voice is scratchy, and I wonder if he screamed at the walls last night. Before I can respond, he turns on the blender and pulverizes apples, strawberries, and kale. He clicks off the blender and pours his green concoction into a glass. “You want any?”
“I’m okay. I’ve kind of lost my appetite.”
“I know the feeling.” The look on his face is raw, lonely. I suddenly wish I could comfort him. But I think hugging him would be entirely awkward, so I simply say, “I hope you know you can trust me.”
His eyes meet mine, and he gives me a slight nod. “I’m going to get showered.” He walks over and takes my hand in his. For a crazy second, my brain scatters to hundreds of possibilities of what he’s going to do. But he simply places his phone into my hand. “Go ahead and get started on my calendar.”
I nod and try to get my heart to slow down to a reasonable rate.
Chapter Nineteen
My mom’s birthday is tomorrow, and I’m going home to celebrate first thing in the morning. I’m baking her favorite cake for the occasion. It’s the first thing I’ve made since Shawn’s cupcakes.
Drunken giggles spill into the room as Meg stumbles through the front door of our apartment with a guy I’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s Ethan from the elevator. They pause in the entry for a kiss that tells me it isn’t their first.
“Hey, Meg. How’s it going?” I yell from where I’m standing in the kitchen, waiting for the cake to cool. The way they’re pawing each other, I’m afraid they’ll start ripping each other’s clothes off right there by the door.
She looks up, surprised to see me. I’ve done a pretty good job, no, a perfect job, of avoiding her since the movie premiere—since I saw the photo of her proud boobs. I hung out at the sorority house all weekend and have carefully dodged her this week. I thought if I stayed away long enough, my anger would subside.
One night after work, I saw her car parked in our spot, so I flipped around and drove until I ended up at Third Street Promenade. It cost me. I was lured into American Eagle, where I bought a flirty jade green poet shirt and a cool pair of distressed jeans. I also picked up a corset-style crop top to go under a plaid flannel I couldn’t resist. It was time to lose some of my twinsets and replace them with more stylish clothes. When I returned to the apartment, her car was gone. I congratulated myself on my hundred and fifty dollar escape route and went straight to bed.
“Hey, Jess. I was starting to think you’d gone to France after all.” She drops her arms from her guy’s shoulders and twists toward me, pulling his hands to her hips.
“Nope. I guess we’ve just been on opposite schedules lately.” I wave to her friend. “Hey, I’m Jessica.”
He looks at me with hooded eyes. “I’m Tony.”
“Nice to meet you.” I raise my eyebrows at Meg. She hasn’t mentioned a Tony before. I carefully remove the first cake layer from the round pan onto wax paper.
Meg grabs Tony’s hand from her waist and saunters to the kitchen. He follows her like an obedient basset hound. “Who’s the cake for?” she asks.
“My mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow. I’m heading down in the morning.”
“Hmm. Tell her I said happy birthday and all that, will you?”
I look at her, trying to gauge if she’s sincere. “Sure.”
Tony shadows her to the counter and eyes the cake like he hasn’t eaten in days. “What kind of cake is that?”
I try not to glare at him, but he’s so close, I’m afraid a strand of his greasy hair will fall onto it. “Chocolate.”
“It looks really good. I love cake.”
Meg gives him a chastising look, and he slinks over to a chair. She turns to me. “How’s Jack?” she says, emphasizing the hard k sound.
“Busy, as usual.”
“Hmm.” She grabs a beer from the fridge and passes it to Tony. “Here. Drink this. I’ll be right back. I have to get something for Jess for her mom’s birthday.” I feel sorry for Tony. He looks totally confused. Meg grabs my hand and practically drags me to her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I ask, rubbing my wrist.
“I’m trying to have a conversation with you in private so we don’t have to do this in front of Tony. You made Jack change his number, didn’t you?”
“No. I think you’re the one who did that.”
“Me?” She blinks her eyes, opening them wide. It makes her look like a surprised Snow White.
“Yeah. As awesome as your sexting is, he’s not interested in having a stalker, so he changed his number.”
“He said that? That I’m a stalker?” She doesn’t bother to raise an eyebrow at me. The snap in her voice is enough, but I don’t let it faze me.
“We didn’t talk about it much. He showed me a photo and said he changed his number.”
She crosses her arms. “I think you’re lying.”
“You’re calling me a liar? That’s rich, given that you’ve been lying about your job for over a year.”
“Wait. Now we’re talking about my job? Who says I lied?”
“You’re not a broker. You’re an assistant.”
She narrows her eyes. “Yeah. So?”
“You always made it sound like you’re a broker. Why?”
“Oh, please. Semantics. Who cares?”
Her derision cuts like a dull knife to my stomach. I kept giving Meg the benefit of the doubt, because I wasn’t ready to see what she’s become. My body feels like it has a slow leak, like a tiny prick in a helium balloon that causes it to drift to the ground until it’s nothing but a deflated version of its former perky self. I don’t want to feel deflated. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thanks. I like to think so.”
I shake my head. “What happened to you? You’re mean now. It’s sad.”
“Oh, I’m not mean. I’m just making you take a good look in the mirror. Ever since you started working for Mr. Movie Star, you think you’re better than everyone. You keep everything all hush-hush. You can’t even share the fun with your best friend. We should be going to clubs and sitting at VIP tables. You’ve taken me to one lousy premiere.”
“Yeah, and that went well.”
A condescending laugh trickles from her dark red lips. “Get over it.”
“Oh, for the love of God. Stop! Just stop. You know what? You’ve had a problem with me ever since I took this freaking job. Probably ever since I got accepted to UCLA, but I was too blind to see it.”
She looks at me and cracks up. I have to clench my fists to prevent myself from doing something crazy. She takes a breath and holds up her hand. “Okay. You know what? We’re not going to talk about your precious school. Go Bruins! Yeah! And theta, beta, blah, blah, blah! Give it a rest. You wave your perfect little life like a fucking banner in my face.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. “We’re friends,” I say slowly. “Usually friends share in each other’s excitement. But now I see that you aren’t capable of that. I think you’re happiest when I’m down. And that is really, really wrong.”
“Hmm. I don’t know where you get your clever ideas. Maybe all that schooling.”
I swear her brain isn’t shaped like a normal one, but like one of those twisted star puzzle games that are impossible to solve. She wears her signature smug look and that determined glint in her eyes. And all I feel is sad. “I remember when we first met in high school, I was impressed by your self-assurance. You had a lot of family shit to deal with, but you never let
it bother you. And I keep thinking you’re still that girl, but the truth is, you’re not.” The tears burn, but I blink them away. “I don’t know you anymore. Now you contort stuff and make everything about how you were wronged. I’ve seen you do it with your parents, with guys, and with me.”
Her face turns white. “I can’t believe you’d say that.”
“I’m not saying it to hurt you. But you need to know the truth, even if it’s harsh. You’re going to end up alienating everyone around you.”
She stares at me, her lips pressed into two parallel lines. “Well, speaking of harsh truths, I hate to tell you what I have to tell you now. The timing sucks.”
Chill bumps spring across my arms. “Tell me what?”
“My landlord discovered you’re not on the lease. If you stay, we’d have to sign a new one, and I’d lose my rent-control rate. I can’t do that.”
“The landlord doesn’t even live in this state.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Shit happens. I’m sure you have some little friends from school you can move in with.”
“You don’t need to feed me some B.S. story about the freaking landlord. And I am not going to pretend I want to stay. I’ll be out of here this weekend.”
“I hope you don’t have to move back in with your parents. That’d be a real drag.”
“I’ll figure it out.” I step around her to get out of her room. “I need to frost my cake. And you should probably check on your friend.”
“I guess you’d have to quit your job if you moved home. The commute would suck.”
I stop in my tracks and turn, the sting of her knife in my back. “Yeah, that commute would suck,” I snap.
Her mouth is pulled at a weird angle, like she just had dental surgery, as she makes a pathetic attempt at a smile. She brushes past me, her heels making a no-nonsense click on the wood floors.
I follow her to the kitchen. “I hope you figure things out, Meg. Good luck finding someone who wants to live with you.”
She glares at me as she grabs her boy toy by the hand and heads for the front door. It slams shut, and I stare at it, wondering what the hell just happened.
I move to my room like a robot. There’s no time to think. I simply retrieve my two large suitcases and start piling my folded clothes into the first one. It’s so full I have to sit on it to zip it shut. I rip the sheets and blankets off my bed and roll them into a tight ball. They’ll take up too much suitcase space, so I head to the kitchen for garbage bags. With the entire box in hand, I return to my room where I stuff my bedding into one of the big, black bags. A few more serve as garment bags for my hanging clothes. I toss my shoes into the second suitcase and lug it to the bathroom to fill with my blow dryer, towels, and cosmetics. All the furniture belongs to Meg’s mom, so I don’t have to deal with that.
I finish packing the last few items from the bathroom and drag my suitcase to the kitchen. There’s no room left for my kitchen items. I’ll have to use a trash bag, but I’m too sweaty and hungry and tired to move at the moment. I sink to the floor alongside my suitcase. My red poppy pillow smiles at me from the couch, all bright and cheery. I cross over to the table and pick up my little mama pig, clutching it in my fist. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the tears from spilling.
Crying isn’t going to help, a voice in my head chides. With forced determination, I grab a roll of paper towels from the kitchen and wrap each pig carefully before tucking them into my suitcase pocket. I stand and assess the room. I have to get out of here. There’s no way I’m staying tonight.
I grab my phone and send a group message to Kolbi and Leah. Can I crash at the house tonight? I’m moving out of my place.
I hit send and start to call my parents, but decide against it. There’s no need to worry them. Besides, I’ll be staying at their house tomorrow. If only my brother went to school here in L.A. He’d let me crash at his place.
I stare at my phone, waiting for the girls to text back. Needing to do something, I check the cake. It’s cool enough to frost now. My plan was to do a pretty fondant, but I don’t have the energy. I’ll whip up some buttercream frosting. Everyone loves a good buttercream. I can smooth it out with a hot spatula and fondant paddle and then add flowers to make it look pretty. It’ll be great. I get to work and wish I could slow down my brain. Decorating the cake isn’t having the calming effect I’d hoped for. I finish it off with a simple border and a few flowers.
I check my phone one more time, but there’s nothing. I call Kolbi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. And now Leah’s mailbox is full, so I can’t leave a message. The reality sets in that I have nowhere to go. I’ll sleep here one more night and leave as soon as I wake up. I’ve already taken all the sheets off my bed, but that’s okay. I fish my blanket out of a trash bag and wrap myself in it like a burrito. I’m too exhausted to brush my teeth or wash my face. Besides, I already packed my toothbrush, toothpaste, and cleanser. I waddle over to the couch, still wrapped in my blanket, and flop onto it. The poppy pillow rests under my head, and I shut my eyes, waiting for the sweet escape of sleep.
A vision of Jack tenderly fixing my wounds floats into my head. I snuggle into my blanket wishing he were here now, brushing the hair from my eyes, telling me everything will be okay.
Chapter Twenty
My mom kneels on her foam gardening pad pulling weeds from the flowerbed as I drive up. She sees me and heads over, brushing dirt off her gloved hands. “Hi, Jess!”
I rush to steer her toward the house and away from my car. There’s no way I can let her see that it’s packed to the brim with my luggage. “Hi, Mom. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” She leans in to kiss me on my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here early. We’ll have a full day to spend together. I’ll get washed up, and we can have coffee. Your dad went out to get doughnuts.”
“Sounds good. Go on in. I have your birthday cake, and you can’t see it yet.”
She smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you inside.”
As I turn back to get the cake carrier, my phone dings with a text.
So sorry I didn’t see this sooner! Of course u can stay with us. I’ll send an email blast to see if anyone needs a roommate. What happened with Meg? I’m dying to know. Hang in there. Xo.
I send Kolbi a quick response. I’ll fill you in when I see you. Thank you. You’re the best. Xo.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and grab the cake. Once inside, I set it in the dining room, out of sight. The rich aroma of my mom’s coffee lures me into the kitchen, and I pour myself a mug. To be fair, it’s my second cup—I stopped at Starbucks before I left Santa Monica and got a double latte. It was urgent. Sleep was elusive last night, and I wasn’t sure I’d make it down here in one piece without caffeine.
I sit at the table while my mom scrubs her hands with her special gardener’s soap. It can’t possibly do anything different than regular soap, but she seems to think it removes the dirt better. “We have a surprise visitor coming to dinner tonight.” She dries her hands on a blue and white striped dishtowel.
“Really? Is it Aunt Marnie?”
“No.” She grins. “But speaking of Marnie, she says Jack McAlister is quite pleased with you.”
“That’s pretty shocking. Are you sure it was me he was talking about?”
Mom smirks. “Of course I’m sure. By the way, I didn’t realize how close Jack and Marnie are. She said he’s like a son to her.” She pauses. “Anyhoo, I’m proud of you for doing a good job. I know it wasn’t your first choice.”
“Huh.” I want to ask her for more details. I didn’t know Jack and Aunt Marnie were that close, either. And I’m sure he didn’t actually say he’s “pleased” with me. That’s total mom-speak. “So who’s the surprise guest?”
“Your brother.”
“I didn’t know he wasn’t coming in the first place.”
“Oh, he was worried about some big test. He told me last week that he wouldn’t be able to g
et away, but I remained hopeful.”
“That’s Colin for you.” My brother is probably one of the few surfers I know who also happens to be a total brainiac.
“Exactly. Now, let’s get back to discussing your job. What’s Jack McAlister like, anyway? Is he that handsome in real life?”
“Of course I am,” my dad booms as he walks through the door. “I have doughnuts for my favorite girl!” He kisses the top of my head as he sets the big pink box on the table. He moves over to my mom, pecking her lips with a kiss, and says, “I’m the handsome man you were referring to, right?”
Mom catches my eye and giggles. “Of course, dear.”
“Bullshit.” He winks at her and turns to me. “Do you have a new boyfriend, Jess? Why is it that your father is always the last one to know the important stuff?”
I roll my eyes. “No, I don’t have a new boyfriend. Mom was referring to my boss, Jack McAlister. Apparently she has a crush on him.”
“I do not! I just wanted to know if he’s attractive in person.”
I look at my dad and grin. “She seems a little defensive, doesn’t she? You may have some competition, Dad.”
“Oh, honestly. No teasing me on my birthday.” She pulls the lid off the doughnut box and selects a buttermilk old-fashioned. “Moving on to more important things, your dad and I thought it would be fun to go over to Balboa Island today. We can window shop and have lunch down there.”
“That sounds perfect! I haven’t been in ages.”
“So how’s life, Jess?” Dad asks.
“Great,” I lie. I pause to choose my doughnut. After intense deliberation, I go for a traditional glazed one. “Everything’s great.”
“Good to hear.” He takes the last bite of his maple bar and stands to pour himself a cup of coffee. “How’s Meg? I saw her dad at the hardware store a few weeks ago.”
“Really? How is he?”