Between Friends (Between the Raindrops #3)

by Susan Schussler

  Alli: Peterson is here and says he won’t leave until he talks to you.

  Me: Tell him to go fuck himself.

  Me: Better yet, tell him to go fuck the sophomore from Friday night.

  Alli: Are you breaking up with him because of Chase?

  I’m not going to respond to that.

  My phone goes off again just as I’m stuffing it in my pocket and this time it’s Chase.

  Chase: Why haven’t you answered my texts? Is it something I did?

  There’s a smiley face emoji at the end. He knows exactly why I’m not answering his texts and he’s trying to be cute. I walk back to my car before my phone learns a few new swear words.

  Since I am not ready to face Dylan, I pull into the marina on my way out of town. I figure I should show my dad what I’ve found, even if it doesn’t show signs of embezzlement. I know he will be here even on a Sunday afternoon. The only reason I can come home from school for the summer is because no one is ever at the house once the ice is off the river.

  The bell tinkles above my head as I open the door and I can hear laughter coming from the lounge area outside the back office. As I walk in, I see my real brother Wes sitting in one of the wheeled desk chairs. It’s pulled up next to the leather sofa where my younger brother Tyler lies sprawled. Standing next to them is a dark-haired woman. She’s too old for either of them, maybe in her late forties or early fifties. Her tan, almost leathery skin, indicates that she doesn’t use sunscreen and probably has a boat in the marina. Her face is kind and her eyes are the warmest honey color. When she sees me, her expression brightens.

  “Oh, Megan, you’re even prettier than your father said,” croons the woman as she approaches me and pulls me into a hug. She smells of sunshine and fresh air, but I’ve never seen her before in my life and yet she knows my name. The fact I haven’t showered today makes me wonder what my dad thinks of me. I’m not sure if I should take her comment as a compliment or an insult. She pulls back, sensing my stiffness, and adds, “I’m Joann.” She says it as if her name has meaning to me.

  I look to Wes and he clarifies. “Dad’s girlfriend Joann.”

  I didn’t even know Dad was dating. I’m glad he can get past what Mom did, that he has found a way to move forward. Am I the only one still utterly destroyed by Mom’s abandonment? Maybe I’m the only one who deserves to be destroyed.

  I smile and say, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” I have no idea how long they’ve been seeing each other but I figure if Dad has told her about me, then it must be a while.

  “We’re planning to head over to the Freight House for lunch. Please tell me you’ll join us. I would love to get to know you better.” Her hands are posed in front of her and she looks like she wants to hug me again.

  “Are you going?” I ask Wes and Tyler.

  “Nah, Braden had to run to Minneapolis for some stupid part that sheared off and as soon as he gets back, we’re back to work. We’re already three hours behind and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow. You go,” says Wes.

  “For Christ’s sakes, Megan. They’ve been dating for years and you’re meeting her for the first time today?” Tyler spouts off before placing his arms up over his face as if he’s blocking out my reply.

  Years? How come I didn’t know this? I look to Wes and one corner of his lips turns up confirming what Tyler said.

  I’m an awful daughter. Why wasn’t this woman at our family gatherings? When was the last time we had a family gathering? I went to Peterson’s parents’ house this past Christmas. The rest of my family must have gotten together without me.

  The whole getting together for holidays has been all messed up since Mom left. She was always the one to host the gatherings. The first Thanksgiving after she was gone, I tried to cook a big meal with turkey and mashed potatoes, but it turned out awful. The meat was dry and the lumpy mashed potatoes stuck together like oatmeal. My brothers criticized the meal so much I vowed to never cook for them again. It wasn’t as if they offered me any help in the kitchen. After that thanksgiving, I always found somewhere else to go. I have friends with normal families. It wasn’t hard.

  “I’m not very hungry, but I’ll go. It would be great to get to know you,” I agree with a smile. I guess it’s time I re-engage with my family. I’m going to be leaving at the end of summer and who knows where I will end up in the next ten years. I may never get another chance.

  The conversation at the restaurant is uncomfortable with Joann asking me a million questions about my life. I don’t know what it is about her, maybe her straightforward, matter-of-fact attitude, but she reminds me of my mom. And even though I’m apprehensive about answering the questions, I feel an instant closeness to her.

  “Your dad is always bragging about how smart you are—way too smart to be stuck working at the marina. Have you chosen where you’re going this fall?”

  “UCLA has offered the best package for me. I think I am set on there. It’s a free ride plus a stipend. They have a great program and I have a good friend out in Los Angeles.”

  “That sounds wonderful. Do you know where you’ll be living?”

  “I don’t have everything finalized, but there’s a service that is helping me get connected with a roommate, so hopefully I should get it figured out before I get there.”

  “Megan’s never had trouble making friends. She gets along with everyone,” my dad says. “She’s just like her mother in that way.”

  There it was, the first reference to Mom. I shouldn’t complain. I’ve already compared Joann to her. I wonder how much Joann knows about what went down with my mother. I smile to hide my cringe at being compared to Mom. I think Joann senses my discomfort because she changes the subject.

  “Are you dating anyone?” she asks.

  “No. We just broke up. He cheated,” I say. I don’t want to tell them it was two nights ago.

  My dad’s face turns contemplative and I can’t tell what he’s thinking until he asks, “Was that the guy you’ve been dating off and on for a couple of years? Dylan, was it?”

  I’m surprised he has paid attention to my love life.

  “I bet there are tons of guys just waiting for the opportunity to ask you out,” Joann says interrupting my answer.

  “Actually, I ran into an ex and I may give him a second chance.”

  My dad’s brow furrows and his jaw tightens. “Not Chase.” It’s not a question. “He cheated on you too. What makes you think he will respect you this time around?”

  I’m confused. I never told him about my problems with Chase.

  “Did Mom tell you about him cheating or how did you know?”

  “No one had to tell me. Sure he walked the walk and talked the talk, but I could see right through him. His preppy yes sir attitude didn’t fool me. Have you forgotten how conniving he was? He always had the answer a father wanted to hear, but I could tell it was all for show. I knew guys like him growing up, sweetheart. You can’t trust them. You’re not thinking about giving Chase another chance, are you?”

  “No, Dad. It’s a different guy.” I wonder if he can tell I’m feeding him the answer he wants to hear. I’m as bad as Chase. The anger quiets on his face and I think I’ve convinced him. I better change the subject again. “How did you and Joann meet?”

  “Well, Joann’s brother died and since he didn’t have any children, he left his boat to her. He kept the boat on Lake Pepin, but she didn’t want to travel that far to use it and she moved it to our marina. She used to come in and drink coffee with me in the morning. One day, she asked me out and we’ve been together ever since.”

  “How long ago was that?” Please don’t let it be four years ago. I don’t want to blame my dad for all that went down with Mom.

  Joann looks to my dad with a smile ghosting on her face. She knows what I’m thinking. “My brother passed just over three years ago. Colton and I started dating six months after that. I wasn’t around when the whole fiasco with your mother happened.”

  Her wor
ds calm my fears and she obviously knows Mom’s story.

  “I would like to think your mother and I would have been friends if we had the opportunity. Just like I hope you and I can be friends.”

  “I’d like that too,” I say.

  I miss my mom and the connection we had. I used to be able to tell her anything and she offered real advice, not the carefully worded statements most parents give. She took me to the doctor and got me on the pill when I told her I was thinking about having sex with Chase. She knew how getting pregnant affected her options and she knew no matter what she wanted me to do, we lived in the real world.

  When I suspected Chase had cheated on me the first time, she told me to take a two-week break from him to give me time to evaluate our bond without his influence, and to make a list of pros and cons for our relationship before talking to him about it. She also told me I needed to allow him to explain, even if I didn’t want to hear his explanation. Chase and I had been going out for over a year and I was so in love with him at that point he could have given me any excuse and I would have believed him. Even with my list, he convinced me he was just flirting with the girl and the person who saw him was completely mistaken. My mom’s point wasn’t to break us up, but for me to look at the situation objectively, and I ended up pulling my list out several more times before I ended it with him. If I still had the list, last night’s exploit would have made the con side just a little longer.

  My dad, Joann, and I talk for another three hours in the restaurant. It feels good and is the longest time I’ve spent with my dad in years. I guess my mom isn’t the only one I miss.

  ***

  By the time I got back to the house that night, Peterson had left and my housemates were in their rooms. I didn’t go talk to them about what Dylan said in my absence. I figured he probably brought up the fact I’d gone snowboarding with Chase, and then he’d showed up at the frat party. It made me look even worse because I tried to cover it up by saying he was my brother. I didn’t want to see the judgement in their eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Jessica asks as I enter the kitchen to fill my travel mug before class. I wonder what she thinks she knows.

  “Yep,” I lie, before turning to see her face. I take a sip of my coffee and she gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Peterson told us what happened at the party.”

  “Did he mention that he screwed some sophomore after I left?”

  Her expression morphs from frustration to disgust as she shakes her head. “He didn’t mention that.”

  “Scott’s girlfriend invited Chase to the party. She slipped him her phone number when we were boarding. I didn’t even know he would be there.”

  “Don’t get back with Chase, Megan. He just messes you up. He’s never been good for you,” she says as if it’s her last plea. She knows I will tune out her words eventually so she gets right to the point. My mind goes to the empty drug bag I found in my purse four years ago. Chase hurt me, more than my friends know. I can still feel the semi-rigid plastic sliding between my fingers. I can still smell the acrid aroma of the contents it once housed. Imagine how much they would hate him if they knew everything he did. I do my best to push the memory back into the dark corners of my mind.

  “I’m not.” I know that’s what she wants to hear. I’m still mad at him for showing up at the party, but I can’t dismiss the chemistry we have, either. He is like slipping into an old pair of comfortable jeans that fit your butt perfectly.

  I head to class without another word. It’s late afternoon before I talk to her again. I’ve been worried all day I would run into Peterson. I know it would take effort on his part, but he does know my schedule and I wouldn’t put it past him to ambush me outside of class.

  Luckily, I don’t see him. I’m not ready to talk to him.

  I’ve just collapsed on my bed after class, content with sneaking a quick nap in before taking out my homework, when Jessica calls up the stairs that our friend Sarah is on the phone. I miss Sarah. It’s been months since she moved out to Los Angeles to live with her fiancé and we hardly ever talk anymore. While Jessica is all hearts and flowers, putting her emotions out for everyone to see, and Alli is the opposite with her cold, logical view, Sarah is the middle ground. She uses both her heart and her head. I rush downstairs to join the conversation. Sarah’s offered to fly all of us out to the West Coast for the weekend on her fiancé’s dime. I bite on it immediately. I’d even pay my own way just to escape from this place. I wish we were leaving today.

  Chapter 8

  Megan

  I CAN’T BELIEVE the size of Sarah’s house—quadruple-patty, McMansion-sized. Okay, it’s not really her house. It belongs to her fiancé’s parents, but I read somewhere he made thirty-nine million dollars last year, which is a decent income even for a mega-movie star. Money is not keeping them from buying a house.

  We eat at the house, and head to a ginormous club. It’s crazy. There must be a hundred people standing outside to get in and we just walk right up to the front—while the crowd cheers, as if they are happy we’re going ahead of them. It’s such a weird culture. We had to pull out our IDs, but they didn’t even look at them. I guess clubbing with a movie star has its perks.

  Inside the club, we get whisked away to the VIP area upstairs. As we climb the open staircase, I gaze across the vast building and count eight dance platforms raised above the actual dance floors. Giant Jumbotrons on the wall capture dancers as they gyrate on the small stages. Lasers flash in all directions to the beat. I’m on sensory overload. The music is a loud, eclectic mix of familiar and amazingly fresh sounds. As we’re seated, I see the section is sprinkled with young Hollywood faces. I may not know the names attached to the faces, but I definitely have seen some of them before.

  After some drama with Jonathan’s ex-girlfriend, Mia Thompson, who is so gorgeous up close that I can see why Sarah sees her as her mortal enemy, we’re inundated by famous people. When Jake Gorboni plops his Adonis mass between Alli and Jessica, I think someone has slipped something into my drink. Seriously? Jake fricking “Gorgeous-body” Gorboni? Sarah started dating Jon last summer so I’ve had time to get used to him being around. Though we rarely saw him, the concept of him infiltrated our conversations all the time, He almost seems normal. But Gorboni just walking off the big screen and wrapping his arms around my friends, that’s a drug induced-hallucination.

  Then, within minutes of Gorboni’s arrival, I see him.

  The bad boy of my dreams, Ashton Post from Impassioned.

  He saunters toward us as if he owns the club, his looks alone accounting for the arrogance about him. The rugged bone structure of his face accented by the scruff of a day-old beard makes me imagine the roughness scratching my neck as he kisses me. My eyes travel down his body and I can practically feel the silkiness of the silver gray fabric of his button-down shirt as it clings to his sculpted muscles. His tousled blond hair looks as if he just stepped off a runway, each strand placed to look sexy as hell. How many times have I woken up sweaty and flushed in the middle of the night after dreaming about him? He and a dark-haired guy sit down in the chairs at our table, and as Sarah introduces everyone, I swear he winks at me. I’m probably imagining it—a trick of the lighting or maybe the alcohol in my drink is stronger than I thought. He must know Jonathan pretty well because he calls him Will, and only those in his closest circle of friends use that nickname. His last name is Williams and his friends call him Will. It’s not hard to follow.

  Liam Nordstrom, the guy who brings my fantasy to life, sits across the table from me. I need to separate the character he plays from the man—the gorgeous man—who is burning me with his dark mysterious eyes. His ominous persona says be careful, I’ll hurt you, but still it’s hard to look away. Sarah’s mentioned Jon’s friend Liam before, but I never imagined he was my midnight fantasy. All of a sudden, Gorboni’s lips are touching my cheek, pulling me out of my daydream.

  Nordstrom makes a comment about nice Midwestern gi
rls needing to stay away from Gorboni’s lips and it makes me laugh thinking he’s one to talk. Maybe I’m projecting his character a bit because I don’t know him, but I can’t help my mouth runs off at his comment.

  “You know, we actually have brains and can make decisions for ourselves. We’re the whole package, not the mindless plastic chicks you’re used to.”

  He looks at me without smiling as if he’s sizing me up. I just made an impression on him. I can see it in his brooding eyes, though I’m not sure if it’s positive or negative. I don’t want his eyes to burn me so I look away. Leslie, who is Jonathan’s assistant, asks me to squish in so the other guy who came over with Nordstrom from the bar can squeeze in next to us on the couch. He’s her ex-boyfriend, but he looks like he’s forgotten the “ex” part. He kisses her on the lips and I no longer feel comfortable using her to escape Nordstrom’s ominous glare.

  I avoid looking back at him as the guys banter around me about who’s a player and who’s not. I’m starting to feel more comfortable until a set of twin blond pixies surround my fantasy man. One places her hands over his eyes and the next thing I know she’s making out with him. Who was I kidding, thinking he was even giving me a second look? Identical twins? He is probably going to take them both home for the night. That’s what his TV character would do. Actually his TV character would find a private room at the club to use—one with a bar at his exact hip height, no doubt. Is it bad I want to join them?

  The kiss lasts way too long and I can tell it isn’t the first time her lips have been on his. She’s much too comfortable with his body. I wonder if they are his girlfriends or if it was just a hookup, or maybe serial hookups. Maybe he only sleeps with identical twins.

  The pixy chicks don’t seem to be leaving and I can’t watch any longer, so I focus my attention back to the rest of the group. Gorboni drones on about the filming of his last movie. He’s one of those guys who you drool over until he opens his mouth and talks. Then the drooling stops and he becomes a beautiful piece of art that you appreciate, but no longer want to buy. Apparently, his stunt double broke his arm during filming and Jake ended up finishing the scene that day without him. He had to roll down a thirty-foot embankment full of brush into a ravine and come up standing. He did it in one take, but it cost him. He shows us a scar that a sharp branch gave him and acts like someone should give him a medal because it was his blood on the film, not makeup. He sounds kind of like he doesn’t deserve a man card the way he tells the story and I can’t help but roll my eyes.