Summer Girl

by Sophie Hill

  “We don’t take kindly to little punks like you using that kind of language in front of decent folk,” one of the men said. “We’d better not see you in here again. We work right next door, so if you even look at this place wrong, we’ll know. And if I hear one more cuss word out of your mouth, I’m going to mop up the floor with you, little boy.”

  Barron and his friends exchanged angry glances with each other, swelled up for a moment as if they were actually going to throw down…then shrivelled like balloons with air slowly leaking out of them. They slunk out of the store, muttering curses very quietly under their breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Dottie, my voice shaking. “I can quit if you want.”

  “Sorry for what? They’re losers. It’s not your fault you dated an asshole. I date a new asshole every week. Thanks for having my back, Chuck,” she added to the fry cook. “No offense. I wasn’t talking about you.”

  “None taken,” he shrugged.

  Sheriff Blackstone turned to me. “You still got my card?”

  “Yes.”

  “Program my number into your phone. Anything that you need, just call me.”

  I nodded, shaking where I stood. “Thanks.”

  How much worse could things get?

  Note to self: Never ask yourself that question.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The line at Frozen Delight felt like it was a mile long. We were downtown in Hidden Cove, standing outside of a building shaped like a banana sundae, baking on the sidewalk, slowly shuffling towards the open window. It was a clever ploy on their part: by the time the customers got to the window they were parched and craving triple helpings of something frosty and delicious.

  Except for me, I wasn’t craving much of anything these days, except oblivion. My life was a Technicolor movie gone black and white. A reverse Wizard of Oz. I ached for Slade, and the silence on my cell phone all day long rang in my ears and strummed on my nerves. I knew I’d never hear from him again, and I teetered between hurt and fury. How could he have given up on me so easily? How could I have been so incredibly stupid, to fall for someone who had obviously never cared for me at all?

  And my mother hadn’t called me back yet, so I was going to have to gather up what little nerve I had left and go to the authorities about Consuelo. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. And even worse – what if CPS couldn’t find out anything about her? How would they find her if there was no record of her birth anywhere?

  “I’m buying,” Veronica said, whipping out her credit card when we finally reached the window. I tried to protest, but she waved at me in dismissal.

  “Let her pay. She’s rich enough to buy and sell both of us,” Dottie elbowed me.

  “True,” Veronica agreed.

  I signed in defeat. “I’m paying for the next one.”

  “You can try,” Veronica said cheerfully, and gave the guy behind the counter our orders.

  I wondered how much money he made. I wondered if I’d be working in the wrong end of the hospitality industry forever. The end of the food chain that grovels for tips, not the end that owns the restaurant or hotel.

  Minutes later we were walking away from the giant banana split building, shoveling delicious fatty confections into our mouths.

  “For a rich bitch, you’re not too awful,” Dottie observed as we settled onto a bench with our sundaes.

  “Most of the time,” Veronica nodded. “I’m fairly tolerable.”

  “You guys are really good friends,” I sighed. “I appreciate it. I’m sorry I’m being such a drag these days.” I was really, really trying to act like a normal human being, and I was failing miserably. I knew that I was like a dark, gloomy cloud dragging around raining on everybody’s parade.

  “Heartbreak sucks,” Dottie shrugged. “I figured that out after the first few dozen guys. Now it’s just fuck and run.”

  “Dottie!” I gasped. “Wow. My mother would wash your mouth out with soap.”

  “My mother wouldn’t,” Dottie brayed with laughter. “Where do you think I got it from? I literally have no idea who my father is.”

  “Literally?”

  “Literally. No idea.”

  Veronica whistled. “Wow. That’s…crazy.”

  “I wish I had no idea who my father was,” I grumbled, listlessly poking at my sundae with a tiny pink plastic spoon. “My father’s a scumbag.”

  Veronica observed my lack of appetite with a critical eye. “Hey. I paid for that. You have to eat it. Seriously, you’re wasting away here.”

  I shrugged, but made myself take a decent sized bite. Then I made myself swallow. It slid down my throat like a lump of lead. The rich creamy sweetness was wasted on me; everything tasted like ashes to me now. “I have no appetite. For anything.”

  “I’m not the best friend,” Dottie sighed. “I try to be, but anything good that comes into my life, I manage to screw up. I don’t mean to, I just find myself doing it. Just like Slade, I guess. Maybe that’s why he and I never worked out, because we’re too much alike.” She glanced at me sideways. “Oh. Sorry.”

  I managed an unhappy smile. “Realistically, who in this town has he not screwed, and then screwed over?”

  Veronica raised her hand. “But only because he never hit on me,” she added. “He is pretty hot. He’s had sex with a bunch of my friends, and they said he was the bomb in bed. I had definitely considered it.”

  “I am feeling better and better,” I groaned. “Thank you. And you wouldn’t have ended up with him, because you’re too much of a princess and guys have to worship the ground you walk on before you’ll even glance at them. I wish I could say I had that much self-esteem.”

  “Oh, there are those who say my self esteem is a little too healthy. The phrase ‘stuck up bitch’ has been tossed my way more than once.” Veronica smirked. “I think they were saying it like it’s a bad thing,”

  My cell phone rang, and I picked it up. It was the new one, the one that my mother had sent to me, and the only numbers that I had programmed into it were Dottie’s, Veronica’s, Slade’s, my mother’s, and Sheriff Blackstone’s.

  How sad was my life?

  I might as well have erased Slade’s number, but it wouldn’t have done any good, because I already had it memorized. And there was this tiny part of me that didn’t want to erase the number because it would be like really admitting defeat, like slicing an invisible cord that connected me to him.

  It was my mother calling.

  Well, maybe one thing would go my way today. “Hello, mother. Are you doing all right?”

  “I’m doing much better. I’ve cut way down on my medication, and I’m meeting with a new therapist every day. Tina recommended her to me. She’s very good.” My mother’s voice wasn’t slurred, and she sounded more with it than I could remember in ages. Tina was one of her friends who’d gotten divorced from her husband when she caught him banging some young intern at his law firm…one of the women who’d vanished from my mother’s social circle. After the divorce they iced her out like Dr. Freeze, stopped inviting her to dinner parties and charity fundraisers.

  “How is Tina?”

  “Much better, apparently. We had lunch recently. It’s funny; she’s gained 30 pounds and she actually looks quite good, and she said she’s never felt happier. She used to be bulimic, you know.”

  “I’m glad to hear she’s doing well now. Living up to everyone else’s expectations is a bitch.” Yes, I was deliberately using bad language, and there was a little bit of bitterness in my voice. I was glad that my mother was doing better, but it was hard to get past a lifetime of being made to feel like I never quite measured up to some imaginary ideal.

  I considered confronting her about the whole issue with Barron, but decided not to go there today. There was something more important that I needed to talk to her about.

  “I found Maria Rodriguez.” There was utter silence on the other end of the line.

  “Hello?” I prodded.

  “I�
�m here.” Her voice was pained. “You found her, and…?”

  “She’s living in a very expensive house two hours away from here. And I asked her about Consuelo, and she pretended she had no idea who I was talking about, Which is interesting, considering that Consuelo is her daughter. I didn’t see any sign of Consuelo being there. Pedro was there too; he started talking to his mother, in Spanish. His mother said that I would ruin everything and he said that he would take care of me.”

  “He said what?”

  “You heard me.” I made my voice cold and firm.

  “Heather, you can not go back there! You have no idea what’s going on! Promise me you won’t go back there!”

  “No, I will not promise that. Unless you tell me what’s going on and where I can find her. That letter that I told you about? In the letter, she said she needed help.” I paused. “And there was a picture of dad holding her, and she looks like a little Hispanic version of him. It looked like a picture taken by a hidden camera.”

  “What? Oh, god, oh god…”

  “I mean, maybe Maria gave her up for adoption but is still somehow getting money from my father, and not sharing it with her? Because she’s obviously living quite well. Maybe Maria’s husband couldn’t stand having her around. She’s living proof that his wife cheated on him.”

  “All right, listen. I will go talk to a divorce attorney. And once I’ve gotten everything squared away, I will tell you what you want to know – but only if you promise me that you will not go back to the Rodriguez residence.”

  Veronica and Dottie were eavesdropping avidly, craning to hear my mother’s end of the conversation.

  “Is this…is this what you want?” I asked cautiously, hope swelling inside me. “Do you want to divorce him? I don’t want you to push you to do something that you don’t want, just to protect me.”

  “It’s been long overdue, and believe me, yes, this is what I want,” she said. “Just promise me that you won’t go back there!”

  “I promise, for now,” I said. “As long as you assure me that Consuelo isn’t dead and buried in the woods somewhere. Because I am really, really starting to freak out about this.”

  “No, that’s not it,” she said slowly.

  “Then what is it?” I hissed, ready to scream with frustration. God, this was infuriating! She knew, she could solve this god damn mystery which had been tormenting me, and she wouldn’t tell! I wanted to reach through the phone, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her until she talked.

  “Give me one week,” she pleaded. “I’ll meet with the divorce attorney this week. I’ll get things rolling.”

  I didn’t have much choice. Going to the police or CPS wasn’t guaranteed to turn up anything new, if there was no record of Consuelo’s existence anywhere. “All right. One week. I mean it.”

  “I know,” she said unhappily. “One week. Be very careful, please.” And she hung up.

  “Whoa, craziness,” Veronica said, her eyes wide. “It’s like a TV movie! And you’re finally getting to solve the mystery!” She hesitated. “Unless she’s just stalling?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “She’s seen how determined I am to find Consuelo. She knows this isn’t going to go away. Stalling me for a week wouldn’t solve anything. I think-”

  My words were cut off by a screech of tires, and the screams of people crossing the street who scattered like frightened sheep as a powder blue Mustang roared down the road and slammed to a stop in front of the liquor store.

  My heart shrank into a briquette of coal, charred and smoking in my chest. I had managed to avoid Slade since he’d dumped me, but in a town as tiny as Hidden Cove, that could only last so long.

  The driver’s side door banged open. Slade staggered out of the car, headed towards the liquor store.

  “Heather, he’s not going to listen to you when he’s like this,” Dottie said, but I ignored her and leaped up and ran towards him.

  “Slade,” I pleaded. God, he looked like hell. Circles under his bloodshot eyes. Sweat stains under his armpits. Hair snarled and tangled, and the sexy stubble practically a beard now.

  As awful as he looked, my heart still leaped in my chest at the sight of him, slamming against my ribs like a caged animal. Would this never end? I still loved him, despite everything.

  “Slade, please, listen to me,” I said, and he swung and stared at me with the wounded eyes of an animal who’d just felt the hunter’s bullet punching through its chest.

  And I felt a flare of hope inside me.

  He had loved me after all.

  He must have, or he wouldn’t be looking at me like that, wouldn’t be acting like this. If this is what my betrayal – my alleged betrayal – had done to him, then he still cared.

  And I still had a chance.

  He slammed the door shut behind him, and turned the lock so I couldn’t follow him in to the store. I stood there banging on the door and yelling as he stumbled up to the counter. I saw him argue with the guy behind the counter, who clearly wasn’t going to sell liquor to someone in Slade’s condition, and then he stormed out of the store, unlocking the door to push past me.

  “Slade,” I begged, “For the love of God, listen to me!”

  “Go fuck your fiancé.” His voice was hoarse and trembling.

  “He’s not my god damned fiancé! He lied to you!”

  Slade swung around to face me, staggering and almost falling over backwards. I could smell the alcohol fumes coming off him, and his eyes were wild. “Really?” he roared. “I never thought you were a fucking liar, Heather. That’s one thing I never would have believed of you. He dropped by the Sand Bar and left a copy of your engagement announcement for me.”

  God damn Barron! He was absolutely freaking determined to ruin everything. Who am I kidding, he had succeeded in ruining everything.

  “My mother ran the freaking announcement after Barron told her he wanted to marry me. He never asked me, and if he’d asked, I would have said no!” I screamed at him, tears searing my eyes and burning my cheeks, because I knew how ridiculous that sounded. It was the truth, but it sounded insane.

  “You really think I’m a fucking moron, don’t you? Of course you do. Stupid townie boy, falling for the rich fucking princess.” He staggered back to his car, almost fell as he climbed in behind the door.

  “Do not drive, do not drive, do not get in that god damned car! Slade!” I screamed, but he was already peeling away, swerving into oncoming traffic and barely pulling away in time.

  I grabbed my phone from my purse and punched up my contact list, crying so hard I could hardly talk.

  If there had been any chance for me and Slade before, any chance that he’d eventually calm down and listen to reason, there would be no chance after I made this phone call.

  But I couldn’t let him drive like that – because he’d kill himself, or kill someone else.

  “Hello, Sheriff Blackstone?” I sobbed into the phone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Slade

  The pounding in my head was pure agony, like a thousand boots kicking against my skull from the inside. My stomach roiled and I leaned over the jail cot and retched, but there was nothing in my stomach. The jail cell wouldn’t stay still; it rocked and rolled like the Titanic.

  And it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. Nothing.

  I couldn’t believe I’d let a woman do this to me. I couldn’t believe I’d been so fucking stupid. I couldn’t believe she was still hanging around trying to convince me that everything was fine and she’d never lied to me. Why, for God’s sake? For her amusement? So she could get a few more quick fucks in before she headed out of town with her Prince Charming?

  And worst of all, absolutely worst of all, I couldn’t believe that I still loved her with every cell in my body and craved her to the very core of my being. Craved her more than alcohol, more than oxygen. I missed her every waking second of the day. I’d poured gallons and gallons of alcohol into the black hole of
longing that consumed my very core, and the pain never let up for a second until I blacked out. And it roared through my body again the second that I regained consciousness.

  Seeing her again in front of the ice cream shop, gossiping with her friends like nothing was wrong, was like a spear through my god damned heart.

  I knew she was the one who’d called Sheriff Blackstone to get me arrested. I didn’t blame her for that in the least; for everything else that she’d done to me, yes, for ripping my heart out and stomping on it with her little sandaled feet, but not for getting me busted. I shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. Even if I ever got my license back, I would never, never do that again. I’d been blackout drunk, I’d put everyone in town in danger, children, old ladies, everyone.

  “Slade.” A voice drifted down at me. Aurora.

  “Yeah,” I groaned.

  “Sit up.”

  Painfully, I hauled myself to a sitting position. She handed me a bottle of water and two aspirin. I downed them, moaning. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” she said. “I can make them take you to the hospital. You really should be on i.v. fluids.”

  “Nope,” I said stubbornly. Being in the hospital would lessen the agony. I wanted the agony. I deserved the agony. The physical pain distracted me from the mental anguish which burned through me so bad that it was a struggle for me to breathe.

  “All right.” Her expression was serious. “Listen. I can probably get the drunk driving charge dropped, because when the sheriff’s deputies caught up to you, you weren’t driving. Do you remember?”

  “No,” my voice was a raspy whisper. Breathe in, breathe out. Every second felt like it stretched out for centuries. Horrible centuries of misery and rage.

  “You ran your car into a ditch and you were standing on the road when the cops came up. So they can get you on public intoxication. They may be able to get you on reckless driving as well. Your car’s been towed to the shop, by the way. It’s at Jimmy’s.”

  “Thank you.” I looked up at her. “I’m pleading no contest. I deserve the DWI.”

  “Yes, you do.” She stared at me steadily. “I can represent you if you want. You can make payments. But if you ever pull this crap again, you are on your own. I’m not going to help you kill people.”