by Lila Moore
“I’m not crazy.”
“Crazy people never know that they’re crazy.”
I meant it as a joke. I was trying-and failing-to lighten the mood. Luke wasn’t amused. I tried to think of something to say to make him laugh and came up blank. He took a sharp left turn and before I knew it we were on the street that runs in front of my house.
“How do you know where I live?”
Instantly, I realized what a dumb question this was. He’d obviously been there to visit my mother. She must have been extra careful to bring him around when I wasn’t home. I’d never seen any evidence of his presence in our apartment.
“Um, well…”
“Never mind. I’m an idiot. Thanks for the ride. You can let me out here.”
He pulled to a stop a couple buildings down from where I lived. I had no idea if my mother was home, but I assumed Luke did not want to see her again tonight. I didn’t blame him. I was dreading going inside.
I fumbled with the handle as I tried to open the car door. Luke leaned in close and reached over me. His hand brushed across my bare leg. For a heart stopping second, our faces were an inch apart. Up close, I could see that his eyes were actually blue with flecks of yellow, making them look green. He stared at me without blinking.
Madly, I found myself leaning in for a kiss.
Suddenly, he pulled away. The passenger’s-side door opened. I stumbled out in a daze. What had come over me? Did I seriously try to kiss my mother’s fiancé? Or ex-fiancé? Or ex-pretend fiancé?
I needed to get a grip. He probably thought I was as crazy as my mother. He might even suspect that I was trying to manipulate him like she had. She’d already lied to him once. What if he thought I was part of a longer con?
I’d just met Luke; I’d probably never see him again, and yet the idea of him thinking I was trying to manipulate him sent me into a panic. I had no idea how to make the situation right. The instinct to flee took over.
I jumped out of the car quickly. My dress flew up, exposing me. I pushed it back down as quickly as I could, but it was too little too late. I was sure Luke saw up my dress. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat. I half expected him to floor it. If he decided to take off in a cloud of exhaust, I wouldn’t blame him.
“I’ll wait here until you get inside,” he said.
I smiled awkwardly and closed the car’s door. I had no idea what to say. I’d just flashed him, humiliating myself. Thank God it was dark. My skin was burning hot. I’m sure I was beet red.
Silently, I walked away from Luke’s car without acknowledging him. What do you say in a situation like this? ‘Thanks for a great evening. Let’s do it again sometime?’ If I was lucky, he’d forget I exist.
I walked quickly down the street. I nodded to the doorman and turned around. Luke was still watching. I waved to him and slipped inside the building. I ran for the elevator and pulled out my key. The elevator doors opened directly into our apartment. My mother was waiting.
“You ruined everything!” she said.
“What are you talking about?”
“If you’d let me explain things to Luke, he wouldn’t have freaked out and left. But you just had to spring everything on him all at once. You scared him away. You did it on purpose.”
I pushed past her into the kitchen. I was suddenly exhausted. I needed something to wake me back up. I poured a cup of coffee and loaded it with sugar.
My mother was still ranting about how I’d ruined her ‘perfect’ plan. I was going to need caffeine before I fought this out with her. I took a long drink and tried to forget about how I’d embarrassed myself in front of Luke. Had seen up my dress when I exited the car? No. It was just my imagination. From where he was sitting, he probably didn’t see anything. And even if he did, it didn’t matter. With the way my mother had behaved tonight, I was sure I’d never see him again. Surprisingly, this disappointed me.
“What’s the matter with you?” my mother demanded. “Why aren’t you arguing with me? You’ve just been standing there quietly drinking your coffee. It’s freaking me out. Say something.”
I took another sip of my coffee and regarded her over the edge of the cup.
“Did something happen tonight? Was Luke still at the restaurant? I was sure he’d left.” She tilted her head to the side examining me closely. “You talked to him, didn’t you?”
Before I could respond, she screamed: “Shit, Gigi! What did you say to him now? I can only imagine what kind of nonsense you filled his head with. I’ll never be able to undo the damage you’ve done.”
“The damage I’ve done? You lied to Luke about everything. You were never engaged. You stole his credit card and bought yourself an engagement ring, then proclaimed you were getting married. Did you really think he would just accept that and marry you?”
I didn’t give her time to respond.
“How is this my fault?” I demanded. “You didn’t even tell him that I exist. Do you think a man is going to trust you after you’ve stolen from him, lied and kept a kid hidden from him? You deceive everyone who has ever been close to you. Not that you care, but when I leave for college, I’m never coming back home again.”
I slammed down my coffee cup and pushed past her.
“But Gigi…” she whined behind me.
I never looked back. I marched into my bedroom and slammed the door shut.
Luke
I stared at the email open on my laptop. I’d read it at least seven times and I was no closer to understanding it now than the first time. Words jumbled together into a meaningless array of symbols.
The trouble was that I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night. The bizarre scene at the restaurant played again and again in my head. Val insisting we were engaged; Genevieve sitting across the table from me in her low-cut dress. The way she looked in the low-light of the alley. Mist clung to her skin as she tried to hide her tears. And that dress. It clung to her body wetly, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Then there was the awkwardness that ensued when I drove her home. Had she tried to kiss me? Of course not. I was the one who tried to kiss her.
When I helped her open the car door, my hand brushed against her leg. Her skin felt like velvet. I could still feel a ghost of her touch. It made me hard, both then and now. When our eyes locked, I’d frozen. I’d leaned in to kiss her. Fortunately, I got ahold of myself and pulled away at the last second before I made a mistake I couldn’t undo.
What if I did kiss her? What then? She still lived at home with her mother-my ex-what? Not a girlfriend really, and certainly not my fiancée. Val was more like a fuck buddy. And now, I was attracted to her daughter. What the hell was wrong with me?
If I had kissed Genevieve, I wouldn’t have been able to stop. I would have driven her back to my place and fucked her. Imagine the mess I’d be in then.
The door to my office flew open and Trent waltzed in. For once, I was grateful for the distraction.
“So, how’d it go last night?”
“Not well.”
“Uh oh, what happened? Did she go full Bunny Boiler on you?”
“What?”
“You know, like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. After Michael Douglas breaks up with her, she loses her shit and boils his daughter’s pet bunny rabbit to death.”
“Uh, no. Nothing like that. Though, I did find out Val has a daughter.”
“Shit. How did she manage to keep a kid secret?”
“The ‘kid’ in question is about to start college.”
“How old is she?”
“Eighteen or nineteen.”
“I thought Val was-”
“Twenty-seven? Yeah, so did I.”
Trent practically fell over from laughing so hard. “She got you good. Admit it.”
I sighed and rubbed my face.
Trent laughed again. “Twenty-seven… she looks good though-for a grandma.”
“She’s not that old.”
“How old is she
?”
“I have no idea, actually.”
“What else do you think she lied about?”
“Everything. Her daughter looked horrified.”
“Wait a minute-she actually brought her kid to dinner last night? That’s how you found out about her? She just dropped that bomb and thought you’d be cool with it?”
“It gets worse.”
I didn’t want to admit my attraction to Genevieve, but I had to tell someone. I was going crazy.
“Let me guess,” Trent said, “her daughter is smokin’ hot?”
I stared at him blankly. How had he guessed? When Trent saw the look on my face he started to laugh.
“Shit, Luke, I was just joking. So, Bunny Boiler’s daughter is hot? Tell me, you fucked her. Please. It will make my year.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but no, I didn’t sleep with her.”
“But you wanted to. Fuck man, do it. I would.”
It was becoming clear that it was a bad idea to talk to Trent about this. He was nothing more than an overgrown Frat Boy. The only thing a guy like Trent cared about what getting laid; consequences be damned.
“I can’t sleep with the daughter of my ex-whatever.”
“Your ex-whatever is nuts and her daughter is hot. You better hit that before I do. A warning though: you stick your dick in crazy, you reap the consequences. You found that out the hard way with Val. Chances are her daughter’s no better. My advice: hit it and quit it. Fuck her, then change your phone number, your email, shut down your social media accounts. Ghost them both out of your life.”
“That’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?”
“You’ve never dealt with a Bunny Boiler situation before. I have. Trust me. You need to shut this down now before it gets out of control.”
“In that case, it would be best to forget about Genevieve.”
“Who’s Genevieve? The daughter? Christ, you got it bad already. Are you sure you didn’t fuck her? Because the way you’re moping around makes it look like you got it bad for this chick.”
“I haven’t fallen for her. I don’t even know her.”
“She must be hot if you’re losing it like this. Is she hotter than Val? Who am I kidding? Of course she is. Why else would you be acting this way? You got a picture of her?”
“No. And if I did, I don’t think I’d show you.”
Trent waved his hand in the air dismissing my words. He pulled out his phone and started typing.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Bingo!” he said, ignoring me.
He turned his phone around, showing me the screen. It was Genevieve’s Instagram account. There were pictures of her outside a bookstore, smiling brightly. It was hard to imagine the melancholy girl I’d met last night happy, but she appeared to be in her photos.
Of course, pictures can be deceiving. People try to create phony impressions online all the time. Secretly, they’re miserable, but all their online posts point to a happy, healthy existence. Maybe Genevieve was trying to hide her true self?
All the pictures following the bookstore photo were of Genevieve with a skinny, tall guy. He had his hand around her shoulder territorially as he smiled into the camera like a used car salesman.
Instantly, I hated him.
In a second photo, Genevieve kissed his cheek while he stared directly into the camera. His brow was furrowed and his cheeks were sucked in. He was trying to pose; he looked ridiculous. He seemed more concerned with getting a good photo then paying attention to the girl kissing him.
Genevieve’s Instagram was full of pictures of this guy. She hadn’t made a new post in almost three weeks, but prior to that she posted photos of the guy multiple times a day.
Interesting. They must have broken up.
Even though this information was public, I felt like I was snooping. I handed the phone back to Trent.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m not going to pry into her personal life.”
“Why not? It’s public. It’s the twenty-first century; everyone cyber-stalks.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, maybe you should start. If you’d cyber-stalked Val you might have learned what a nut she is sooner-could have avoided this whole mess. Of course, you wouldn’t have learned about her hot daughter…”
“Okay, enough.”
“So, are you going to see her again?”
“Genevieve? I have no reason to.”
“What about the ring?”
That was a good question. I had no idea how much it cost, but the diamond was huge. I was dreading checking my credit card statement. I needed to get the ring back.
“You didn’t get the ring back last night, did you?” Trent asked.
“I didn’t have a chance.”
“Don’t worry. I got this.”
Trent started texting.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Trent, seriously, don’t fuck around. You’re going to make things worse. With everything going on around here, I don’t need more drama in my life.”
“I know you. You won’t call this girl, even though you want to. You’re into her, she’s into you. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t hookup.”
“Weren’t you just lecturing me about how she’s probably just as crazy as her mother?”
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fuck her.”
“Enough. Stop talking about her like that. She’s not some disposable girl.”
“Shit, man you do have it bad.”
He finished texting and said: “There. Now we just have to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For Genevieve to send a message back.”
“What did you do?”
“I set up an Instagram account in your name, then sent a private message asking her to meet you and bring the ring.”
“Trent, dammit. I don’t want to complicate things. Can’t you just mind your own fucking business?”
“Whoa! I’m trying to help you out. Besides, you want the ring back, right? What’s the harm in meeting her? Get the ring back and move on with your life. It’s only complicated if you make it complicated.”
I hate to admit it, but Trent was right. I was the one adding drama to the situation. I would meet Genevieve in some place public, thank her for bringing the ring, then leave. Simple. What could possibly go wrong?
Genevieve
I stretched out across my bed and stared at the ceiling. Guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. I shouldn’t have been so hard on my mother. Without question, she was a mess, but I didn’t need to be so mean to her. I’m not a mean-spirited by nature. I just lost my temper.
I’ve tolerated a lot from my mother and I’ve held my tongue through most of it. Her behavior last night was a step too far though. The question was, why? This didn’t rank in the top ten worst things my mother has done and yet it felt horrible. Still, I knew I should apologize to her. I just couldn’t swallow my pride and do it. It made it hard knowing she would never extend me the same courtesy and apologize for putting me in that position with Luke last night.
I just had to let it go. You have to learn to accept the things you cannot change.
My cell phone made a trilling sound. I had a new email. Maybe it was from Michael. I opened my phone and saw that the email was just spam. I started to turn off my phone when I noticed someone had sent me a Direct Message on Instagram. It was from Luke.
I sat up in bed. My heart raced. Why was he messaging me? I’d made a fool of myself in front of him. I read the message once, then again, slowly.
Wat up? Hit me up 2nite & bring ur moms ring. Seeya @ Blu Lounge. 9 PM. PS Ur loking hot in ur pics.
The end of the message included an emoji with a mischievous smile wearing devil horns.
What the hell? I read the message a third time. This was not what I expected from Luke. This message looked like it had been written by a twelve year old. Had I
seriously misjudged him? Sometimes a guy can be so hot that you’re blinded to their awful personalities. Still, Luke didn’t seem immature, or douche-y. He had to be a bit naïve to fall for my mother’s lies, though. She was not subtle. He had to have on serious blinders when it came to her.
My fingers hovered over my phone’s screen. I had no idea how to respond. He wanted to meet to get my mother’s ring back. That was understandable. He probably thought it was easier to use a go-between. If he met my mother in person, she’d probably refuse to give the ring back and cause a scene.
I didn’t want to get into the middle of this mess, but I wanted to see Luke again. The strange message had made me even more curious about him.
‘OK,’ I texted back. ‘9PM Blue Lounge.’
I had no idea where that was. I’d have to look it up. More importantly, I’d have to steal my mother’s ring.
I looked at the time. It was eleven AM but I was sure my mother was still asleep. She was used to keeping late hours and she liked to mix prescription pills with champagne to help her sleep. The combo usually knocked her out. It was incredibly dangerous, but that never stopped her.
I walked into her bedroom, not even bothering to be quiet. I knew she’d be in her champagne-benzo coma. She snored loudly beneath her pink canopy bed. Gauzy blush-colored curtains surrounded her like Malaria nets. She slept in a matching pink nightie and a full face of makeup. She always said that you should never let a man see you without makeup on.
I rolled my eyes at the sight of her. I rarely wear makeup and if that’s a problem for anyone too bad.
I lifted her arm. The ring was still on her finger. I managed to pull it off but it took some effort. She never stirred as I manhandled her.
I dropped her arm onto the bed with a thud. She sighed in her sleep then continued snoring.
The diamond was intimidatingly huge. It had to cost a small fortune. What if I lost it? I debated what to do with it and ultimately decided to wear it. I slid it on my ring finger; it fit perfectly. The huge rock made my hand look childishly small.
If a man proposed to me, I’d want something more tasteful; maybe a diamond band or a small stone. I twisted the ring around my finger. What would it be like to be engaged? I tried to imagine Michael proposing to me. We haven’t known each other long, but I would say yes if he asked. He would make it perfect: romantic, but not cheesy; touching, but not overly sentimental.