Ladies' Night

by Andrews, Mary Kay

  “I think she knows he’s been using her by referring all these divorcing women to her for therapy group and then forcing her to pay him kickbacks.”

  “Hah! Can you prove it?”

  “Not yet,” Grace admitted. “Just come hang out with us tonight at the Sandbox. I’ll tell you the whole story then.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” Ashleigh said abruptly. “That’s somebody else’s problem. Look, Grace, I gotta go now.”

  “Go where?” Grace asked. “Ashleigh, where are you? Are you at home? Is there somebody you could call to come over and stay with you for a while?”

  “I’m in the car,” Ashleigh said. “I’ve been driving around for hours. And I don’t need a babysitter. I just wanted to talk to somebody. But I’ve made up my mind what I need to do.”

  “Ashleigh?”

  The line went dead.

  Grace cursed and tapped the redial button.

  The phone rang twice.

  “Leave me alone, Grace,” Ashleigh said. “This is between me and her.”

  “Her?”

  “You know exactly who I mean. Suchita. I’m gonna take care of business. Do what I should have done months ago, before things got out of hand.”

  “Ashleigh, stay away from that girl. You’re angry and upset, but stalking her is not the answer. You’ll only get yourself in more trouble.”

  “I don’t care,” Ashleigh insisted. “I don’t care about anything. Except Boyce. He’s all I have. He’s the only thing in this world I give a damn about.”

  “Come on,” Grace said. “That’s not really true. You have family; you have friends…”

  “What friends? You mean all those losers in group? Get real. None of y’all give a damn about me.”

  “We do,” Grace said. “We all care about you. I care. You must know that, or you wouldn’t have called me.”

  Silence.

  “Ashleigh? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” Ashleigh said. She was crying again. “That’s sweet, Grace. Really sweet. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a loser. You’re not like the others.”

  “You’re upset,” Grace said soothingly. She was looking out the window again, wondering what time it was.

  “You said you’re in the car. Where are you? Do you want to meet? We could get a cup of coffee and talk.”

  “I’m … oh, hell. I’ve just been driving around. I guess I’m at Bradenton Beach. But I don’t want any coffee. A drink, maybe. Yeah, another margarita.”

  “Another? You’ve already had a margarita, and you’re driving?”

  “Just a couple. But they were little ones, and mostly ice. If you’re gonna lecture me about drinking and driving, I’ll hang up right now.”

  “No lecture,” Grace said quickly. “Look, why don’t you pull into the next gas station you see and call me back. I’m not far away at all. I’ll come and meet you. How does that sound?”

  “If you want to,” Ashleigh said. “But I’m warning you. It won’t change my mind.”

  “Call me right back,” Grace said. “I’ll meet you, wherever you are.”

  * * *

  She left Sweetie napping in the condo and called Wyatt on the fly.

  “Grace, hi,” he said, sounding out of breath. “I know I’m late, but I had to go through the drive-through at Wendy’s to get dinner for Bo. I’ll only be another thirty minutes. Promise.”

  “Actually, that’ll be fine,” Grace said. “Ashleigh just called me. Today was the day her ex invited her to go to lunch. But instead of asking her to come back to him, he announced that his girlfriend is five months pregnant, and he’s going to marry her as soon as their divorce is final.”

  “Oh, wow,” Wyatt said. “And she was so sure he was going to get back with her. How’d she take the news?”

  “About like you’d expect,” Grace said. “She’s obsessed with getting Boyce back, or at least keeping that girl from marrying him. She’s been driving around, drinking margaritas, plotting some kind of revenge. I’m really worried she’ll do something drastic. I’m going to go meet her and try and talk some sense into her.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Wyatt asked. “If she’s been drinking?”

  “I don’t know what else to do,” Grace said. “She’s talking crazy. I’m afraid she might hurt herself—or somebody else.”

  “Please don’t go meet her by yourself,” Wyatt said. “Just wait thirty minutes, okay? I’ll take Bo straight home, and then come by and pick you up. We can go together. She might listen if we both ganged up on her.”

  “Maybe,” Grace said reluctantly. “But I promised I’d come right away, as soon as she pulls into a gas station. I’ll try and stall her. But hurry, can you?”

  “I’m ten minutes from home and another fifteen from the condo,” Wyatt said. “Stay right there.”

  66

  “Okay, I’m here,” Ashleigh said, without bothering with a greeting. “So, are you coming, or what?”

  “Here, where?” Grace asked.

  “Um, it’s a Hess station on Manatee, but you better get here fast, because I do not like the looks of this place. It’s definitely in the hood. The bathroom was so nasty I had to pee standing up.”

  “I’m trying to think where that is,” Grace said slowly. “Like, what block of Manatee is that?”

  “How should I know?” Ashleigh snapped. “I don’t even know why I agreed to meet you. You can’t change my mind, you know. That bitch Suchita is history. She’s toast.”

  “Please don’t talk like that,” Grace begged. She hesitated, wondering if she should mention that Wyatt would be joining them. Stall her, he’d suggested. But that was no easy feat.

  She gazed around the room and spotted Sweetie, who’d hopped off the sofa and was now sitting in front of the sliding glass doors facing the gulf.

  “Look, Ashleigh, I just need to let Sweetie out for a potty break before I leave her alone,” Grace said.

  “Who’s Sweetie?”

  “My dog. She’s a rescue, and I’ve got her over at a client’s condo, but I don’t dare leave her alone unless I take her out. Just give me fifteen minutes, okay?”

  “You want me to hang around here for fifteen minutes? No way! You said you’d meet me right away. Hell, if I hang around here for another fifteen minutes, I could be carjacked. Shiiiiit,” Ashleigh swore softly. “I knew this was a bad idea. Thanks anyway, Grace, but I gotta be moving on.”

  “No, don’t leave there,” Grace said hastily. “I’ll come right now. You said you’re at Manatee, but what’s close by? What’s the intersection and which corner? Give me a landmark, Ashleigh. I’m not really familiar with that part of town.”

  “For God’s sake. I don’t know. Let’s see … um, yeah, there’s a strip shopping center with a Bealls outlet right across from the Hess station.”

  “If you’re worried about the gas station, drive over there,” Grace suggested. “You can just go inside and wait until I pull up. Nobody’s going to carjack you at a Bealls.”

  “Maybe.” The other woman sounded unconvinced. “Or maybe I’ll stay here and get a wine cooler while I wait.”

  “I really don’t think you should have anything else to drink,” Grace said.

  “And I don’t give a flying fuck what you think,” Ashleigh retorted. “It’s five forty-five right now. If you’re not here by six, I’m history.”

  “I’m coming,” Grace said hurriedly. “Stay right there.”

  * * *

  Grace called Wyatt from her car. “Sorry, but I can’t wait for you,” she told him. “I’m meeting Ashleigh at the Hess station on Manatee. She’s so antsy, I really couldn’t stall her any longer. She’s already talking about buying a wine cooler. I’ll keep her there as long as I can, and hopefully you can meet us there.”

  Wyatt sighed loudly. “I don’t like this Grace. If she’s been drinking like you say she has, I don’t think you’re going to be able to reason with her. I think maybe you should c
all the cops and let them handle it.”

  “Ashleigh respects me. She’ll listen to me,” Grace said. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to talk to her, calm her down, and persuade her to leave her car there and let me drive her home. She’s not a maniac, Wyatt. She’s upset, and she’s talking smack, but I honestly don’t think she’s capable of really harming somebody—other than herself.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Wyatt said. “I just dropped Bo off with my dad. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Okay?”

  “Hurry,” Grace said. And she disconnected.

  * * *

  She spotted the red BMW as soon as she pulled into the gas station. Ashleigh tooted her horn and waved. Grace parked in one of the slots in front of the convenience store and trotted over to Ashleigh’s car.

  The BMW’s engine was running, and when the electric window slid down noiselessly and Grace bent down to talk to her friend, a blast of cold air hit her face. Grace’s heart sank when she saw two empty wine-cooler bottles tossed in the passenger seat.

  “Hey, Grace,” Ashleigh said. Her face was pale and her usually flawless makeup was smeared and tear-streaked. “You know this is a waste of time, right?”

  “I don’t mind wasting my time,” Grace said lightly. “Why don’t we go over and sit in my car and talk?”

  “Nuh-uh,” Ashleigh said, shaking her head vigorously. “I like my car just fine.” She patted the leather-upholstered passenger seat. “You can sit here.” She reached down to the floor and pulled up a full key-lime-flavored wine cooler. “Look, I bought one for you. We can have a party. A pity party, right?”

  “Um, I’m not really thirsty,” Grace said. “Come on, Ashleigh. You’ve had too much to drink to be driving. Let’s go sit in my car, and I’ll drive you home. You can plot revenge against Suchita tomorrow.”

  “No effin’ way,” Ashleigh said. “Tonight’s the night. That bitch is going down!” She tossed her blond hair defiantly over her shoulder. “And if you’re gonna be such a buzzkiller, you can just go on to your divorce meeting. Because I’ve got stuff to do. See ya around, Grace.” She rolled the window up.

  “Wait!” Grace said, pounding the BMW’s roof. She looked over her shoulder, hoping against hope to see Wyatt’s truck. Ashleigh was definitely drunk, and in no mood to be reasoned with.

  The window slid down again. “You comin’ or not?” Ashleigh held up the wine cooler. Grace sighed and took it, crossing to the passenger seat.

  Ashleigh popped the lock and Grace moved the empties aside before sliding into the passenger seat.

  Ashleigh watched her expectantly. Grace uncapped the bottle and took a sip of the ultrasweet cooler.

  “That’s more like it.” Ashleigh cackled. “Par-tay! Woo-hoo!” She threw the car into reverse and just as quickly into drive.

  “Wait,” Grace said, the back of her head slamming against the headrest. “Ashleigh, no! You’re in no condition to drive.”

  “Don’t be such a nag. I’m fine!” Ashleigh countered. She looked both ways, then zipped out of the parking lot and onto the highway, narrowly avoiding a collision with an oncoming white sedan before crossing the median into the far westbound lane.

  Grace glanced over at Ashleigh, who looked back and laughed. “See? I told you. I’m fine. Those wine coolers have almost no alcohol in ’em, and anyway, I’ve got a really high tolerance. I can drink, like, half a dozen margaritas and not feel a thing. We’re just a couple of girls, out cruisin’, just like in high school. Didn’t you and your girlfriends ever get a little buzzed and go cruisin’?”

  “You’re not fine,” Grace said, groping for her seat belt. “And we’re not in high school, and you’re past being buzzed. Anyway, I thought we were just going to talk. Ashleigh, if you want to drive drunk, that’s your decision, but I do not want to go along for the ride.”

  “Too bad,” Ashleigh said. “I keep telling you I’m not drunk. Okay? You wanted to talk, let’s talk.”

  Ashleigh wove the BMW in and out of traffic, twice coming so close to clipping another car, Grace finally just squeezed her eyes tightly and prayed, because she was too nervous to watch where Ashleigh was going.

  “I want you to turn around and take me back to that gas station,” Grace said through gritted teeth. “Or just pull over and drop me off. This isn’t funny, you know.”

  “You’re right; it’s not funny. It’s fuckin’ tragic is what it is,” Ashleigh said. Her eyes brimmed over with tears. “I tried calling Boyce while I was waiting for you. The number I had was disconnected. He just called me on it, like this morning. She did that. I just know it. One of her spies probably told her Boyce took me to lunch today. But what she doesn’t know is—I’ve got spies of my own.”

  She fumbled in the center console of the car and came up with her cell phone. “Here. Grab the steering wheel,” she told Grace.

  Grace reached over and took the steering wheel with her left hand, grateful that the heavy flow of traffic on Manatee meant that Ashleigh was only doing about thirty miles per hour.

  Ashleigh was squinting down at the list of contacts on her phone, scrolling down, looking for something.

  “Who are you calling?” Grace asked.

  “Here it is!” Ashleigh said triumphantly. She tapped the number and waited, and then frowned. “The bitch won’t pick up. I bet Boyce told her not to talk to me.”

  “Suchiiiiita.” Ashleigh’s voice was low and spooky. “Pick up the phone, little mama. I’ve got a message for you. No? You don’t wanna talk to me? That’s okay. Cuz I’m coming for you, bitch. Remember? I know exactly where you live. And guess what? You can run, but you can’t hide.”

  She disconnected the phone, dropped it into her lap, and took the steering wheel again.

  Grace’s mouth felt dry, and she felt beads of perspiration popping up on her forehead, despite the chill from the BMW’s air conditioner. She glanced in the rearview mirror, but there was no sign of Wyatt’s truck. She felt in the pocket of her shorts for her phone, found it, and slid it into her lap.

  She had to call Wyatt, try to let him know what Ashleigh intended. Maybe he could call Boyce Hartounian and warn him that Ashleigh was on a rampage. She glanced over at Ashleigh, who seemed to be watching the road. She managed to thumb down her recent calls and tap Wyatt’s number, but then the BMW suddenly swerved into the far left lane and, seconds later, without signal or warning, made a sharp left turn, crossing two lanes of oncoming traffic, earning her a blast of horns from the cars she narrowly avoided T-boning. Grace’s phone flew out of her hand and slid down between the seats.

  “Ashleigh!” Grace cried. “What the hell are you doing?”

  The driver shrugged. “Sorry. Guess I cut it a little close, huh?”

  “You nearly got me killed,” Grace said angrily. “If you want to kill yourself, that’s your business, but I want out of this car, right now. Pull over, dammit.”

  With her left hand, she tried groping the area beneath her seat, but the small phone eluded her grasp.

  Ashleigh laughed. “Don’t be such a chickenshit, Grace. Look, I’m barely doing thirty now.”

  It was true. They’d turned onto a quiet, treelined residential street. It was narrow, and cars were parked along the curbs on both sides, dictating a slower speed. Grace wondered if she’d managed to connect the call to Wyatt, wondered if he could hear them right now. She prayed it was so.

  “What is this neighborhood?” she asked loudly.

  “It’s Newtown,” Ashleigh said. “The bitch lives right around here, but I can’t remember the name of the street. I’ll know it when I see it, though.”

  She was scanning both sides of the street, looking ahead at the street signs.

  They were going just slow enough, Grace realized, that she could escape the car without risking her life. She snaked her right hand over toward the passenger door, her fingers clasping the handle.

  Click. Grace tugged at the handle, but it was too late.

  Ashleigh laughed. “Chi
ldproof locks. Great invention, huh? Come on, Grace. Why do you wanna jump ship? I thought you were gonna be my wingman on this mission.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with this,” Grace said. “You’re scaring me now, Ashleigh. Just pull over and let me out, okay? Or let me drive. You’re in no condition to be behind the wheel. You’re going to do something stupid and dangerous and end up in real trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Ashleigh glanced over at her. “What? Stackpole is gonna put me in remedial divorce counseling? Sentence me to community service again? You don’t get it, Grace, do you? I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of that. I just want to give that bitch what she deserves. Once she’s out of the picture, Boyce will realize what he’s been missing.”

  Grace clamped her lips together. Finally, the reality of the situation dawned on her. Nothing she could say would sway Ashleigh’s resolve. She glanced again in the rearview mirror. Was that a flash of red, a block back? Wyatt’s truck? She said another silent prayer.

  Ashleigh drove one block, turned right, drove two more blocks, and turned left. The truck sped up and seemed to be closing the gap between it and the BMW, but then it was forced to come to a halt as an enormous SUV backed slowly down a driveway and into the street, totally blocking it.

  Come on, come on, come on, Grace chanted silently.

  “This is her street!” Ashleigh muttered. “I knew it was around here.” She made a sharp left and slowed the BMW to a crawl, craning her neck to see the numbers on the mailboxes.

  If she hadn’t been so thoroughly terrified, Grace might have been craning her neck, too. The street was lined with moss-draped oak trees, lawns with thick green grass, and neatly tended beds of flowers. The homes were cozy stucco and wood-frame bungalows built in the twenties and thirties, with welcoming porches and gabled roofs.

  It was a storybook street, but Grace had a feeling that this story would not have a happy ending.

  “Oh, yeah,” Ashleigh said softly. “This is the right block.” She glanced over at Grace. “You see this neighborhood? I checked—the cheapest house on this street sold for 377,000 dollars. And I’m living in a dump condo that rents for eleven hundred a month. Ask yourself how a twenty-eight-year-old drug rep affords a house here. I’ll tell you how—she hooks up with a rich plastic surgeon and makes him her baby daddy.”