Smokin' & Spinnin'

by Miller, Andrea

  A N D R E A B . M I L L E R

  Copyright © 2013 Andrea B. Miller

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0615808042

  ISBN 13: 9780615808048

  LCCN Imprint Name: abm Publishing Company

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  For Mark, thanks for believing in me

  long before you knew what I was up to.

  And, your undying support. I love you!

  For my girls, you were the driving

  force behind this project. You will

  never know how much I love you!

  Prologue

  I slam my car into park so violently it causes my Honda to shake and jerk. “Son of a bitch!” I exclaim to no one. I am so mad that I cannot breathe. I try desperately to drag air into my lungs as I watch her walking into his house. It is almost midnight. This cannot be happening to me.

  As she disappears through the doorway, I shakily reach for my cell phone as all the missing pieces start to fall into place. Brooke was right, but if she knew, who else knew? The phone rings in my ear, bringing me back to reality. It rings once…twice…then three times!

  “Damn it, Brooke! Pick up!”

  Then suddenly, “What the hell?” Brooke snaps as she answers the phone. I can tell she is aggravated, but I don’t give a damn. I gasp, thankful that she did take my call at this time of the night. “Whitney!” Brooke calls out again when I don’t respond.

  “Were you asleep?” I finally manage to say.

  “No, I am going over depositions on a new case. What’s the matter?”

  I take a deep breath. “You were right!”

  Brooke doesn’t miss a beat. “I told you those shoes were terrible with that dress. I hope you can take them back!”

  I laugh, although this is far from funny. “This isn’t about the shoes,” I say calmly.

  “Well, it’s hard for me to keep track sometimes…”

  “Him! You were right about him.” I cut her rambling off.

  There is a disturbing silence before Brooke hisses, “Nooooo!”

  “I saw with my own eyes,” I say calmly.

  I hear Brooke gasp. “What are you going to do? Do you need me to come there?”

  With that statement, I realize in an instant that I have only one true best friend in this world. And I know exactly what I must do.

  “No!” I say coolly. “I will be in Charlotte tomorrow before the sun goes down…”

  Chapter 1

  “Mom, I will be fine,” I promise. I see the tears begin to sparkle in my mother’s eyes. Thankfully, my Dad interjects. “Jillian, she needs to get on the road. She has a long drive ahead of her.”

  “I know, I know,” Mom replies. “Whitney, I just feel like you’re running away!”

  I laugh out loud. “Well…I guess I am. And I would have left at midnight if it hadn’t been for you.” There is no need to dance around it. I have got to get the hell out of here. I need some space from this small town, a new start, a new place, and definitely new people.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Mom exclaims.

  I take her hands. “Mom, all you have to do is call Jessica and tell her to cancel everything. There is still plenty of time.”

  She nods, then exclaims again, “And what if he calls?”

  “I will handle that!” Dad interjects again.

  I turn and smile warmly at him. “Oh, he will call. I have blocked his number from my cell phone. So, he will be scrambling sooner or later,” I say with a sigh. I know that my dad will take care of it because I have nothing to say.

  My dad gently places the last bag in the trunk of my car and shuts it firmly. “That’s all, baby girl.”

  I have everything I need, which are basically the necessities, clothes and cosmetics. I give my dad a huge hug, and his monstrous embrace envelops me. Tears prick my own eyes. I fight them back as only I know how. I never let anyone see me cry, not even that bastard! It is a defense mechanism that my dad burned into my brain from early on. “Tough, Whitney. Be tough.” I remember my Dad’s words. “Emotion is a sign of weakness.”

  I break the embrace with my dad and turn to my mother, who now has tears flowing freely down her cheeks. We embrace as she says sweetly, “I love you, Whitney!”

  “Call us, please, as soon as you arrive,” Dad says. “And absolutely no texting while driving!”

  “Yes, sir, Sgt. Parker,” I joke as I stand at mock attention and salute. I have learned to take orders from my military father well.

  I jump into my Honda Accord, plug my iPod into the auxiliary cable, and wave goodbye one last time to my parents, who are now embracing each other in the driveway. I sigh. Here goes nothing…I am approximately six hours from Charlotte, North Carolina. My new home. I’m excited yet anxious as I set out on I-95 North out of this sleepy coastal Georgia town.

  I press the shuffle button on my iPod, and one of my favorite songs from an ’80s hair band comes up. I swear my iPod has a sixth sense. This is a good omen, though. I switch over to the aptly named playlist “’80s Big Hair.” I settle in to travel along with some major rock ballads and try desperately to think of what’s ahead and not what I am leaving behind.

  The past twelve hours have been pure hell. Within a blink of an eye, I have gone from actively planning my own wedding to packing my bags to get the hell out of Georgia. Thanks to Brooke, I am escaping, and relatively no one knows (or probably cares) where I am headed. I prefer it that way. Everyone in my life, except my parents, of course, have aided and abetted the recent implosion that is my life. I shake my head at my thoughts. Nope, I am leaving that all behind, back in Georgia where it belongs.

  As soon as I cross the North Carolina state line, my cell phone begins to ring. The caller ID lets me know that it is my best friend, Brooke, or as I like to call her, my partner in crime.

  “Where are ya, babe?” Brooke asks with excitement singing in her voice. She lives in Charlotte; in fact, I will be subletting her apartment since she has recently gotten married and moved out of the city.

  “Patience, please!” I say. “I am crossing the state line, won’t be long now!” My excitement is equally radiating, or it could be my nerves rattling. I am not sure which.

  Truthfully, I have never made a snap decision like this in my life. Maybe that is why my nerves are beginning to overtake the excitement of it all. But I had to get away, move on, and the opportunity to move to Charlotte seemed like the perfect escape even though running from my problems makes me look like a total coward. I don’t give a s
hit what anyone says, though. I am done. I take a deep breath and grip the steering wheel tightly.

  Brooke has been begging me for years to move to North Carolina with her, but I wouldn’t even consider it. Now is the perfect opportunity to move to Charlotte to get away from the mess in Georgia. I sigh to myself. Brooke is my one true friend. She has worked out all the details to help make this transition a smooth one after all I have been through. My mind drifts again to the last few hours of my life. It has been utter turmoil. I feel the familiar sob catch in my throat. No! No! I halt that journey down memory lane. I will not go there. That time of my life is over and done. Those memories are not allowed in North Carolina. I chastise myself again.

  The drive is long, tedious, and boring. I am comforted only by the music that wafts through the speakers of my car. Oh, and the comical South of the Border billboards that are every mile it seems. Jeez! I arrive in the heart of Charlotte during midafternoon traffic, before sundown, as promised.

  It is my goal to get settled in my apartment and start my job search on Monday. I plan to hit the ground running. With this economy, it is harder than ever to find a job, especially right out of college, but I am confident. Failure is absolutely not an option, and neither is moving back to Georgia.

  Brooke has given me explicit directions, and I find myself at the apartment complex without any problems. I feel a huge sense of relief as I reach the door of apartment 34C. I unlock the door, and Brooke is waiting inside for me!

  “Oh my God!” she shrieks as she jumps up from the couch to greet me. She is so over the top, but I do love her. She has been my rock. She grabs me in a huge, consuming hug, suffocating me with her thick blonde hair.

  “Hi,” is all I can manage in return.

  Brooke is beautiful—with long, slender legs for days—tenacious, and successful. She totally has her shit together. I, on the other hand, do not. Brooke is close to achieving partner status in her law firm, while I am just starting my career. Thanks to you know who. I am in total awe of Brooke, which makes me feel inadequate too. My thick, mousy brown hair is pulled back in an untidy ponytail, and my river-blue eyes are red and tired from the exhausting drive. And let me not mention the few pounds that I have gained thanks to the recent turn of events in my life. I have got to get myself back in shape, I vow. I hate to feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

  “I just can’t believe that you’re finally here!” Brooke squeals again. She begins to show me around the apartment.

  “Brooke, I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Whit! Please! You are helping me, remember. I can’t handle a mortgage and a lease payment.”

  I smile. The apartment is small but very comfortable, and I already feel at home. It is a one bedroom, with a huge kitchen with a center island that opens to a great room. The apartment is flawlessly decorated with southern elegance, which is totally Brooke’s style.

  “OK, I have to get back to the office. I will be over in the morning. Then, Matthew and I will come back into town for dinner tomorrow night.”

  Matthew is Brooke’s husband. A lawyer too, he has moved Brooke out of the city and into the suburbs of Charlotte. Hence, my new digs.

  “You call me if you need anything in the meantime. OK?” Brooke jumps up and down with excitement. I laugh at her theatrics. And with that, she is gone with the same flourish.

  I sit down on the couch and take out my cell phone to call my parents. I take a deep breath as Mom answers the phone. “I made it!” I exclaim.

  “Oh, Whitney! The phone is ringing off the hook. He won’t stop calling. She is calling. They all seem to be in a panic.”

  She gasps for breath as I intercede with a laugh. “Mom! Mom! Please! Everything is OK. Just take the phone off the hook! OK?”

  She hesitates. “OK.”

  I know this is hard for her, but I have got to do what is right for me. “Mom, I have to go, but I will call you soon. I love you!”

  I can hear the tears in her voice. “I love you, Whitney!” And the line goes dead.

  I haul my belongings in from the underground garage, and suddenly it hits me just how tired I am—not just from the drive, but from no sleep last night and my epic meltdown. I head straight for the shower. I love the bathroom. It is huge. It has a double vanity sink, large walk-in shower, and separate Jacuzzi tub. What the apartment lacks in size, it more than makes up for in amenities. Oh! I am in heaven.

  I strip off my T-shirt and shorts and then turn on the shower. The hot water is scalding and therapeutic. It rushes over my skin, and I desperately try to wash Georgia off my body and out of my mind. When I emerge from the shower, I realize that I have a new resolve. So, I set out to turn Casa Brooke into Casa Whitney.

  It only takes me an hour to accomplish my task. After I unpack, I amble over to the refrigerator. Starving! Yep, I am going to have to hit the market tomorrow, I say to myself as I open the door. Shockingly, I find the refrigerator is stocked to the max. How did she do all that so quickly? Thanks to Brooke, front and center, I find my favorite bottle of Riesling. Awesome! I find a glass, corkscrew, and I’m in business! I smile. Brooke really is too much! But I have never been more thankful for another person in my life.

  On top of the counter on the center island is a plain white card bearing my name. I read the note that Brooke has left for me:

  I laugh out loud. Always a lawyer, but forever my friend! And I realize Brooke is right again. I am home.

  Chapter 2

  Iam nestled down in Brooke’s bed, my new haven, when I hear the door open. Before I can be alarmed, Brooke bounds into the bedroom.

  “OMG! Why are you not up?”

  I have to remember to get that key back from her.

  “Ugh!” I groan loudly. “You have got to call first!”

  Brooke sounds back, “Not hardly, this is my damn house, remember! Get up! We have lots to do today!”

  I scramble out of the bed and make my way to the bathroom. Thankfully, I showered last night. All I need is a little makeup, a brush through my brown mane to secure it back in a ponytail, and I am good to go.

  “All right, let’s do it!” I exclaim as I walk into the living room, where Brooke sits patiently reading e-mails on her iPad. She looks up at me warily. “Is that what you are wearing?”

  I stand back to look at myself. I have on black yoga pants, a Georgia Southern T-shirt, and my best tennis shoes. “Yes,” I exclaim. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

  Brooke sarcastically laughs, “You are not going anywhere with me dressed like that.”

  I feign disgust, roll my eyes, and put my hands on my hips, but I know all arguments with Brooke are futile.

  “Whitney!” Brooke exclaims. “You never know when you might meet a gorgeous stranger or your worst enemy. You should always be on top of your game. Not to mention the fact that you are in a new city with new people and experiences, and you need a job. And you only get one chance to make a good first impression.

  I roll my eyes at her. “OK, OK…Mom! Thanks for the early morning lecture!” I say sarcastically. “What do you suggest that I wear?”

  Brooke bounds up from the couch and back into the bedroom. She calls back to me, “Where are your clothes?”

  “In the closet!” I find Brooke rifling through my clothes at rocket speed.

  “It looks like the first order of the day is to go shopping. Seriously, Whitney! What has happened to you? You used to be such a fashionista!” she exclaims, looking through my clothes with disgust.

  Tears sting my eyes unexpectedly. She knows what happened. I look down.

  “Oh shit, Whitney!” Brooke shouts. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think.” I shake my head and push back the tears. She is right. I have completely let myself go. “You are right! Let’s go shopping!” There is no need to cry about it. It’s time to fix it.

  Luckily, I am able to find some khaki shorts and a long-sleeve polo button-down to wear from a stash o
f clothes that Brooke left behind. The outfit is perfect for a day out, and it looks perfect paired with my casual brown flip-flops. Brooke is right. I have to be on top of my game. I exaggeratedly model my new look for her. She nods in approval, adds a few pieces of jewelry, and we are out the door.

  The bright Charlotte sunshine blinds my eyes as we make our way through the streets. The great thing about Brooke’s apartment is the location. The apartment village lies in the heart of the city, within walking distance of the business district, shopping annex, and historic downtown. I fall in love instantly.

  After round one of shopping, we stop for lunch at a small deli called Amelie’s.

  “So, what is the latest?” Brooke asks outright.

  I roll my eyes, signaling that I know full well what she means. I don’t want to have this conversation. I turn my head to look out the window, hoping Brooke will stop with her inquisition. She doesn’t.

  “Have you talked to your mom at all?”

  My stomach rolls at that thought. I nod silently.

  “Both of them are blowing up my mom’s phone. And I have blocked all their numbers from my cell phone,” I say without expression. “I don’t want to hear any excuses or explanations. I just really don’t give a shit anymore! I am sick and tired of hashing and rehashing all this in my mind. The who, what, when, and where of it all is exhausting. He made his choice. He used me, lied to me, and cheated on me. And I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it all out. But I am done. I am moving on. End of the discussion.”

  Brooke eyes me intently. “Good for you!” she exclaims. “I will not mention it or ask another question. I am just so glad that you are here. And in all seriousness”—Brooke reaches across the table to grasp my hand—“you can do a heck of lot better than that bastard!”

  I throw my head back and laugh. It feels good. But she is absolutely right!

  After lunch, we do a little more shopping. Brooke puts together a few new outfits for me. I seriously love having a personal shopper—it is so easy!

  Brooke helps me haul my purchases into the apartment. “Look…I know I said that I wouldn’t say anything else, but if you need to talk or decide you want to vent, please tell me. I am here for you. I could stay with you for a few days, if you want me to?”