“Isn’t there supposed to be someone else here?” Jazz asked.
“Nancy. She called earlier and bailed on us. Again.” Laurie dipped a cracker into the crab dip.
“We should tell her we had a great time, make up some grand thing, like, like . . . ,” Jill said.
“Right, there isn’t a ‘grand thing’ to make her feel like she’s missed something big,” Laurie sniffed. “I don’t throw a fun girls’ night out, I guess.”
“Maybe you need to have a penalty instead. Remember pajama parties and being afraid to go to sleep?” Jazz’s mind whirled with thoughts of past pranks.
Jill gasped. “What could we do?”
“TP her house?” Jazz reached into a bowl for a miniature candy bar. She slid her nail under the foil, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. Then she noticed the clarity with which she could hear every word Madonna sang in the stillness of the room. The women stared at her.
“What?”
“You ate chocolate,” Laurie said.
“You never eat sweets,” Jill said.
Tina bobbed her head in agreement.
“Louisa might not, but I do. What a miserable person she must be if she doesn’t at least have chocolate in her life.”
“But you’re . . .” Jill’s voice faded as if unsure what to say.
“Louisa, so they tell me.” She unwrapped the gold foil on another miniature chocolate bar and popped it into her mouth as well.
“It’s so weird that you don’t remember.” Jill crossed her legs and slid her feet under her thighs. “Maybe we can help, if you want us to. We could tell you what Louisa is like.”
“I don’t know if we should do that, Jill.” Laurie squirmed on top of her stack of pillows.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Jazz said. “Collin thinks I should figure it out myself. I’ve been asking Tim for help. So far I know I exercise because I might get a fat fanny.” She stood and tried to look behind her. “I didn’t think I was in bad shape. Am I?”
“I wish I had your shape,” Jill said, tossing a pillow from the couch at Jazz.
“So what is Louisa like? What does she think about Collin?”
“I’m not comfortable with this, Jazz.” Laurie hopped off the cushions she sat on. “Anyone need anything from the kitchen? Another soda?”
Jazz reached out and touched Laurie’s arm before she passed her. “We’re fine, Laurie. I know you are Louisa’s best friend. Are you thinking you’ll be gossiping about her?”
“Sort of.” Laurie didn’t move. “It’s weird.”
“But it’s okay because what if you didn’t tell me anything, and you are holding the words to bring back Louisa’s memory?” Jazz felt guilty of manipulation. Maybe she did want to snoop into someone else’s life.
“You could be right.” Laurie sat back down on a bright-blue pillow.
“Great!” Jazz piled a plate with dip and chips, then settled back in her chair.
Jill started the discussion. “First, Louisa would never eat that stuff you have on your plate. She gets nuts if she gains a pound because she thinks Collin will leave her.”
Jazz halted the progression of chips to her mouth. “Would he?”
“I don’t think so.” Laurie reached across and patted Jazz’s hand. “Go ahead and eat the chips. Don’t worry about it because if Louisa returns, she’ll work off all the calories in a day.”
“What does she do for fun?” Jazz put the chip back on the plate; she didn’t want to think about the workout that would be required to remove what she had eaten in the last five minutes.
“I don’t think she knows how to have fun. She’s never done girls’ night out with us. She prefers to go to lunch because Collin isn’t home then,” Tina said.
“Why? Collin doesn’t want her to be gone at night?” Jazz began to feel uncomfortable about leaving him with the kids for the evening.
“I don’t know,” Jill said.
“Louisa is a good mother, right? She seems to be super organized, right down to what they have on Friday nights for dinner.”
“She’s a bit controlling,” Laurie said, then frowned. “Are you sure you want to hear this, Jazz?”
“Can’t you find something nice to say about Louisa?” Jazz felt a pain she didn’t understand, as if someone she loved had been hurt.
“Sure. I think she is an amazing cook, but she wouldn’t agree.” Laurie smiled. “She hosts the most incredible dinner parties for Collin’s clients.”
“And she has this almost magic ability to rearrange furniture. She made my living room look completely different without spending any money,” Jill added.
Jazz nodded. “Thanks. I knew the house looked as if a decorator had been there. And now I know she uses all those cookbooks in the kitchen.”
“She loves Collin and the kids a lot. She doesn’t seem happy, though, does she, Laurie?” Jill said.
“No,” Laurie answered, “she doesn’t.”
Jazz knew she didn’t want to hear any more from Louisa’s friends, not now, anyway. In fact, she felt kind of queasy, as if she had been caught looking in someone’s medicine cabinet. “So where does Nancy live?” Jazz grinned as she changed the subject. “Have any extra toilet paper, Laurie?”
* * *
The van slowed to a stop in front of Nancy’s house. Laurie killed the engine. “Still want to do this?”
“You bet.” Jill hiccupped. “I’m a bit—hic—ner—hic—vous.” Her comment brought on high-pitched laughter from the rest of them.
The side door slid open. The women stumbled from Laurie’s van, giggling like teenagers.
“Shh! You have to be quiet,” Jazz whispered, holding a finger to her lips. “We don’t want to get caught.”
They stood in a tight little group until the crickets returned to their nighttime sonnets.
“That’s better,” Jazz said. “Try to stay out of the beam of the streetlights, and remember not to squeal when you throw the rolls, or someone will hear us. Laurie, get the weapons.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Laurie offered a goofy salute and went to the back of the van. She opened the hatch and held out the first rolls to Tina.
“I think I’ll just watch.” Tina backed away.
“No way. We’re all in this together. Right, Jazz?” Jill whispered.
“One for all and all that rot,” Jazz said while grabbing her two rolls.
Tina stuck her hands deep in her jeans pockets and stepped back from the group. “I always tell my kids not to follow the crowd like sheep.”
“Come on,” Jill said. “We aren’t doing any damage. Have a little fun for once, Tina.”
Tina sighed and withdrew her hands. “All right, but I don’t like doing this.”
“Noted,” Laurie said. “You can pick the next activity.”
“Naysayers have to throw the first roll,” Jill said.
Laurie giggled. “She means you, Tina.”
“No way. I’m not going first.” Tina shook her head and faltered back.
“I’ll go first since it was my idea,” Jazz whispered. “Line up behind me. We have to get in and get out quick.”
“Let’s do it all at once, and then we’ll get done faster,” Jill suggested. “I’m really scared now. What if we get caught?”
“She’s a friend, right? We get her to laugh and tell her we’ll be back in the morning to clean up the mess.” Jazz began to creep toward the house. She stopped as high-pitched giggles came from behind her. She looked back at Jill and Laurie huddled on the sidewalk, encircled by the glow of a streetlight. They covered their mouths with their hands. “Remember, no noise! Just throw as high as you can to the top of the tree.”
“Sorry,” they said in unison.
Standing in the front yard, the women aimed the rolls of toilet paper at the top of the oak tree and tossed. The rolls spiraled out of their hands. Ribbons of tissue cascaded, draping over branches and causing them to bob.
Unable to contain their nerv
ousness, they broke out in loud giggles. “Stop, we’re going to get caught,” Laurie said through a snort.
“Listen! There’s a car coming up the street. Back to the van!” Jazz squealed, breaking out in a run.
Bright lights engulfed the yard before she could get to the sidewalk. The women stood still like deer caught in the beam of a spotlight.
“Hold it right there, ladies,” an authoritative male voice called from beyond the light.
Adrenaline raced through Jazz. Collin wouldn’t like this turn of events. Maybe she could talk her way out of this. She at least had to try. “We’re sorry, Officer. We were just pulling a prank on a friend because I’ve lost my memory, and my friends are helping me get it back; only this friend didn’t show up for the sleepover tonight. We promise we’re planning to come back in the morning to clean up everything.”
“Up against the car, lady.” The officer shone his light over Jazz and moved closer.
“But you don’t understand—this was my idea. Can you let everyone else go home?” she pleaded with the armed man. Fear built a highway through her back—this man was not Officer Friendly.
“No. I’m taking all of you in. Now, up against the car.”
Jazz put her shaking hands on top of the car like she’d seen criminals do in the TV series Cops. Her friends followed her lead, and one by one, hands hit the police cruiser.
* * *
Tension mounted in Collin’s jaw. He was thankful she had been brought to the local station and not the municipal court, where he was well-known. His eye twitched, and he felt a ping in his forehead, then wondered if he could lose his memory like his wife. His life would be so much simpler if he could. How should he play this? he wondered. Hardened lawyer or desperate husband? How did his wife end up getting arrested? Not his wife, he reminded himself—Jazz. Louisa would never be in a police station unless she was on a Scouts field trip.
He checked the watch on his wrist. Jazz had called him almost an hour ago. Since she had managed to get all her friends arrested, finding a babysitter proved to be a challenge as the other husbands had to collect their own wives. He had left Madison in charge, fully aware he could be in trouble with the law himself if anyone reported him. A law he thought should be changed. Two more years and they could leave Madison with the boys, free and clear.
He approached the khaki-clad clerk behind the glass window. “You have my wife, Louisa Copeland?”
The clerk looked at him blankly.
Collin released a heavy sigh. “Jazz Sweet?”
The clerk nodded. “Her we have. Take a seat in the lobby, and I’ll send the arresting officer out to talk to you.”
In the lobby, Collin paced and then sat on one of the fern-green plastic chairs. Black-and-white posters of missing children covered one wall. The parents’ heartache had to tower over them every second as they wondered where their children were and if they were alive. How would he feel if it were his kids? His shoulders tensed. It was unimaginable. He stood and paced the room a few more times. He heard someone laugh behind the door where his wife was being held. He could hear the channel 2 sound bites now: “Local lawyer’s wife behind bars.” The minutes slowed. Waiting with a client had never felt like this. He’d never noticed how loud innocuous sounds could be if your nerves were in the process of unraveling—the jangle of coins in the vending machine or the sloshing of coffee as it poured from the machine into the cup. He sat back down, and his heels bounced.
“Mr. Copeland?” An officer stood in the open doorway.
Collin jumped from his chair. “Yes?”
“Come on back.” The officer turned and walked down the hallway without looking to see if Collin followed.
Collin upped his stride to catch him. “Are charges being pressed?”
“By the city. There is a nuisance law. We usually have teenagers breaking this law around prom time. I think this might be a first, though—four moms on a girls’ night out. Glad it’s not my wife.” The officer stopped in front of a closed door. “She’s in here. She wouldn’t sign anything until you came, said you were a lawyer?”
“I am. I’m also her husband; she just doesn’t remember that.”
The officer turned to face him. “She mentioned that. Didn’t quite believe her, though she made a valiant effort to convince me.”
“Unfortunately it’s true, and living like this can make your head ache.”
“Let’s get this done, then. Sounds like you’ve had a rough time.” The officer ushered him into the small room.
Jazz sat before him, her hair askew and mascara smeared under her eyes. He wondered if she had been crying, then canceled the thought as she rubbed her eyes with her hand.
“Collin! What took you so long? Everyone else already left.”
Jazz gazed at him like he had climbed a stone tower to rescue her from a dragon. He stood a little taller. He couldn’t help but feel good about that dewy damsel-in-distress look. But he wasn’t about to let her know that.
He cleared his throat, readying it for his in-court voice. “I’m here now. So what made you TP Nancy’s house?”
“We were . . . I don’t know . . .” She lowered her eyes to the table in front of her. Using her fingernail, she traced a name etched by someone who had been here before her.
“Bored?”
“Not exactly—more like we were acting like teenagers at a pajama party.” Jazz flashed him a grin, seemingly pleased with her rebuttal.
The officer handed him a stack of papers. “It’s good she enjoyed the experience, but I don’t think she’ll be laughing when she’s picking up bottles, cans, and unmentionables.”
“Trash?” Jazz seem puzzled.
“Yes, ma’am. You and your friends have landed yourselves a community service sentence: four hours on a Saturday morning picking up trash along the interstate. Better pray for a nice, cool, sunny day.”
Collin breathed a sigh of relief. “So we don’t have to go to court for this one?”
“No. We found with teenagers that having them work for the city is a greater punishment than fines.”
“But I’m not a teenager! Can’t we just pay a fine?” Jazz pleaded.
“Nope. You broke the law, and you have to pay the penalty.”
“Collin?”
Collin knew he could force the issue, take this to court, and maybe even win, but he was tired. Jazz could just take her punishment. “I hope you look good in bright orange.” He turned away from her angst-filled face and looked over the papers. “Sign these,” he said as he pushed them at her, “so we can get out of here. I still have a few hours of work to do.”
He refused to acknowledge the tears welling in her eyes.
Chapter Nine
Standing inside the massive bedroom closet, Jazz surveyed her choices. Another day of wearing someone else’s clothes. True, the clothes did fit, but they were so boring they made her yawn. There were no rainbow colors in this wardrobe, only navy, cream, and an occasional brown. Didn’t Louisa have one adventuresome bone in her body?
It was a cool day, and Jazz longed for a red sweater, or something with fun trim that would shoot sparkles of color across a room, or a collar of feathers that floated around her neck.
“What are you doing?” Madison padded into the closet.
“Trying to find something fun to wear.” Jazz held a cream satin shirt to her chest—fun fabric, but still didn’t come close to her style. This blouse was too dressy. She hung it back on the rod.
“Like what?”
“Anything with color or even stripes would be nice.” She shoved a hanger holding a navy-blue T-shirt to the side. “Boring.” Jazz sighed one more time and pulled a plain white T-shirt from the closet along with a navy skirt.
“Mom says one should always stick to buying the classics.” Madison stroked the dress next to her as if appreciating the value of the designer.
Jazz stared at Madison for a moment. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think I’m her. I find that r
efreshing.”
“You look like her, except . . . you smile more,” Madison said, “and you look at people when you talk to them.”
“I don’t think I’ll be smiling today.” With a hand on Madison’s back, she edged her from the closet and into the room. “Your dad is pretty mad at me, or he was last night.” She pulled the shirt over her head, then stepped into the skirt, shimmied it up her legs, and zipped it. “What do you mean I look at people?” she said, realizing Madison had offered her a clue about Louisa’s personality.
Madison flopped across the unmade bed. “I don’t know. It’s just different. Mom talked to lots of people, but she was always doing something else at the same time, like picking up Tim or looking for him or something. You just stop what you’re doing and talk.”
“I should be spending more time watching out for Tim. That’s probably a mom thing I’m supposed to know how to do.” Jazz shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe someday I’ll figure out how to multitask.”
“Maybe,” Madison agreed. “So what happened, anyway?”
“Apparently there’s a Nosy Nelly across the street. She called the police.”
Madison’s eyes widened. “What’s it like to be arrested?”
“Scary. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“What did Dad say?” Madison’s voice sounded a bit fearful.
Jazz sank down on the bed next to Madison. “He said I broke the law and had to pay the penalty. His mouth didn’t even move, just stayed in a straight line.”
“That means he’s really mad. You probably shouldn’t get too close to him today. That’s what I do when he’s mad. I stay far, far away from him,” Madison said. “Sometimes it helps if you clean your room.”
“That might be hard for me to do. I can’t hide in the bedroom all day.” She rooted through the dresser for a scarf or a belt to brighten her outfit. “And I’m not cleaning anything.”
“We could go shopping,” Madison said. “Then you could get some clothes you like.”
“Do you know how to get to the mall?” Jazz slammed the drawer shut with her hip. Her heart pounded at the thrill of the hunt for new clothes. Clothes that shouted “Jazz.”
Mind of Her Own Page 9