Love at 11 (18 page)

That did it. Fury slammed through my stomach. “Get off your high horse, asshole,” I cried, leaping up from the bed. “You think I’ve
fallen
for you? You’ve got to be fucking crazy!” I started laughing, realized my laughter made me sound semi psychotic. At that point I didn’t really care. “You know, Jennifer can have you! Not that she’d probably want you if she knew what a bastard you are! You go and cheat on her, and then expect to just walk down the aisle three months later. What a keeper!”

Jamie looked beaten. Truly beaten. Half of me wanted to go over and hug him and tell him everything was okay; the other, more sensible half, wanted to beat him to a pulp.

“What a prize you are.” I continued my rampage, settling for mental brutality over physical. “You said she was embarrassed by you? Well, I don’t blame her. You’re a burnt-out has-been. Pathetic. A real nothing. I wouldn’t marry you for all the handbags in Prada. And neither should she. Of course, she doesn’t know better, poor thing.”

“You’re not going to tell her, are you?” he asked, a scared expression on his face.

I drew in a breath. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. But here he was, not concerned that he’d hurt my feelings. Just worried that he might get caught. It would serve him right. Leave him with nothing.

“Well, well. That’s for me to know and you to find out,” I threatened. And with that, I grabbed my shoes and made my exit, slamming the door behind me.

FROM THE DESK OF

THE CALLA VERDA ROADHOUSE

Dear Jennifer,

You don’ t really know me, but I’ve slept with your future husband. I wanted to write and tell you what a bastard he is.

Jen,

Remember how we shared dinner last week? Well, that’s not all we’ve shared…

Jennifer,

You know how some men have the Madonna/whore complex? Ever wonder who is Jamie’s whore?

Jennifer,

You don’ t like him anyway, so how about you go marry someone else and leave Jamie to me? I think Heath Ledger might be single again…

Hi Jen,

I’m in love with your husband.

Goodbye Cruel Word,

This may be my last will and testament after having my heart broken by an asshole named Jamie Hayes.

Chapter Eleven

“Jodi!” I cried, overjoyed, when at seven p.m. on the dot my bestest friend in the whole wide world walked through the doorway of the Calla Verda roadhouse.

The owner, a plump, motherly type with graying hair and kind blue eyes, had taken pity on me when I’d rushed in a few hours earlier, all tear-streaked and bawling. She’d cooked me lunch—didn’t even charge me—and I’d told her my story. She in turn told me that all men were bastards and that her third husband had beat her to a pulp before cheating on her, which actually made me feel worse instead of better. She even gave me some stationary to write Jennifer a letter, but after several attempts, I couldn’t bring myself to sell Jamie out.

“Hi, Maddy,” Jodi said, sliding into the booth across from me. “I got here as soon as I could.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” I gushed, not being able to help myself. Then I burst into a fresh set of tears.

Jodi glanced around. The bar had filled up since I’d first arrived and several biker boys were staring at me with frank interest. Jodi stood up and grabbed me by the hand.

“Let’s go. We can talk in the car.”

We walked to her vehicle, a Ford Expedition, big enough to hold her four dogs. And sure enough, she’d brought the pooches with her. When I climbed in, they all clambered to the front seat of the SUV to try to greet me, as if I were their favorite person in the whole world and they’d missed me dreadfully since I’d been gone. Their enthusiastic welcome and sloppy kisses made me laugh, and suddenly I felt much better.

“Guys! Guys! Cut it out!” I giggled as the Italian greyhound took advantage of her small size to crawl under the Great Danes and hop into my lap. I cuddled her in my arms and she licked my hand.

Jodi popped in the other side. “In the back,” she scolded. “Bad! Bad dogs! In the BACK!” With great effort she managed to shove them all backward, then closed the cage that separated the front seats from the rest of the SUV. The dogs whimpered behind the bars, as if having been sent to solitary confinement.

“They’re so spoiled,” Jodi complained as she turned the key in the ignition. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. They’re cute.” I stroked the Italian greyhound who had somehow managed to escape the prison sentence.

“So tell me again, why are you out here in the middle of nowhere?” Jodi asked as she pulled out onto the main road.

“I was doing undercover work for that drug cartel story Miguel told us about.”

She looked over at me before turning back to the road. “And where’s Jamie?”

“Hell if I care where he is. I hope he rots in this backwater town.”

Jodi slammed on the brakes, causing me to lurch forward and bang my head on the dashboard. The dogs yelped their annoyance from the back.

“Ow!” I protested.

“Madeline Madison, you weren’t planning on leaving him here, were you?” she scolded.

“What are you, my mother?” I growled, rubbing my head. Though of course, if she were my mother, she’d be too busy shopping in
gay Paris
to give me a lift.

Jodi steered the SUV to the side of the road. “What’s going on, Maddy?” she asked. “Why are you mad at Jamie? I thought you guys were becoming friends.”

I shook my head. “What can I say? He’s a jerk.” I really, really didn’t want to tell her how stupid I’d been. How I’d had an affair with a nearly married man who, this afternoon, had informed me that he would never be leaving the wife-to-be. It was way too clichéd.

But Jodi was hearing none of it. “If you won’t tell me what happened, I’m getting out of this car and searching for Jamie myself.”

“You can’t. The dogs and I will suffer from hot-car syndrome and die.”

“I’ll leave the air conditioner on.”

“You’ll run out of gas.”

“There’s a gas station a block up.”

“But think how expensive gas prices are right now—”

“What happened, Maddy?” Jodi demanded. “I drove two hours to find you. And I’m driving another two hours back. That means today I’ve given you four hours of my life. You’d think for four hours you could come clean.”

I stared at the Italian greyhound in my lap. “Fine,” I muttered. “We had a thing.”

“A thing?” Jodi cried angrily. “How do you define ‘a thing’? Isn’t the guy getting married in three months?”

“See? This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d be all judgmental and stuff.” Jodi swallowed. “Sorry. Go on.”

So I told her. Everything. How we’d slept together the night I’d found out my parents were getting divorced. How he’d found me abandoned, after my date left me, and asked me to dinner with him and Jennifer. How we’d accidentally taken Ecstasy in the desert and how he’d confessed his feelings, only to take it all back the next day.

By the end of the tale, Jodi was seething with indignation. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Maddy?”

“What am
I
doing? I’m just the innocent bystander here. He’s the one with the fiancée.”

“Please, Maddy. Grow up. Take some responsibility for your actions. Sure, I’m not saying Jamie’s been acting like Mother Theresa here, but you haven’t exactly been discouraging his behavior either.”

“Oh fine. So it’s all my fault.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just suggesting you gain a little perspective before you leave the guy stranded in the desert. I mean, what are you really angry about? ’Cause he told you that it would never work out between the two of you? That he needed to stay faithful to the woman he’d made a lifetime commitment to? You should have known that from the start, messing around with another woman’s guy. You’re not the innocent wounded party here, and I hate to say it, but you deserve everything you’re getting for becoming involved with an almost-married guy to begin with.”

“I know, but …” I stared out the window, shamed. “It’s not some weird, dirty affair. It’s sweet and innocent and good. I have real feelings for him. I can’t help it.”

“You need to start trying. Stop putting yourself in situations where you’re vulnerable. Okay, you slept together once. Can’t take that back now. But you’ve got to move forward. Otherwise you’re spiraling down the pit of destruction.”

“I know, I know. It’s just … it’s like I’ve finally met the perfect guy and I don’t want to lose him. And I know he has doubts about getting married to Jen. He’s admitted that.”

“Trust me, everyone has doubts about getting married. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to go through with it. You need to prepare yourself for that reality and quickly.” She reached over and touched my shoulder. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

A vision of Jamie standing at the altar smiling at Jen haunted me. Jodi was right. I had to get over this ridiculous crush—and fast—or I was going to be crushed myself.

“Look, I don’t know whether Jamie’s a two-timing bastard or just a guy who has feelings for two women and is genuinely confused. But either way, you’re not doing yourself—or him—any good by perpetuating this flirtation. And you have no right in the world to get mad when he tells you that he’s trying to honor his commitment to his fiancée. I mean, think about how you’d feel if you were Jen. Knowing some bitch in San Diego was chasing after her man?”

Ugh. She had a point. In a way, I was no better than Cindi with an i. And Jen was my helpless mother. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

“You’re right,” I said, swallowing hard. “You’re totally right. I need to stop this now.” I looked over at her. She really was good friend. “Thank you.”

Jodi reached over and pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to go all tough love on you. I know you’re hurting and I’m sorry. I just don’t want it to get any worse.”

“I know. And I appreciate it. I really do.” We held each other for a moment, then pulled away.

“So, you okay for giving Jamie a ride home?” Jodi asked. “I really think it is the right thing to do.”

I nodded. “We can take him. I don’t mind.” I looked to the back of the truck and threw her a half-grin. “As long as he rides in the back with the rest of the dogs.”

*

There’s nothing like stepping into your own apartment after an extended absence, the sense of peace and quiet that envelops you as you open your front door and step over the threshold. No matter what’s happened out in the unpredictable world, you know you can always return to your sanctuary.

Except if you have your little sister staying at your place.

I groaned in dismay as I surveyed my living room. Candy wrappers were strewn throughout. The couch cushions had been pulled onto the floor, one beige cushion now stained with some kind of grape-colored liquid. Empty bottles of Bud Light were lined up like soldiers, guarding my coffee table. But most horrifying was the presence of my bathroom makeup mirror behind the beer sentries. Laid on its side, and covered with chalky residue and rolled up dollar bills.

Dear God, no.

I approached the mirror cautiously, to get a better look. And while I was certainly no expert, I wasn’t a babe in the woods, either.

Lulu and her friends had been doing drugs. In my house!

I scanned the room again, looking for more evidence of drug use. Instead I saw a trail of abandoned clothing leading to my bedroom. I took a deep breath. Could this possibly get any worse?

Half of me wanted to just retreat out the front door and come back later—after Lulu had picked everything up and kicked out whoever was there with her. Then I could return and pretend nothing had happened and not have to deal with what I was about to have to deal with.

But she was my little sister and, at the moment, I was all she had.

Stepping into my bedroom, I found Lulu in bed, an unshaven, scraggly-haired guy by her side, listlessly watching television. Except the television in question was currently spitting out static snow and neither party seemed to notice. Their blank expressions made the scene more chilling than if they’d been in the middle of some dirty deed.

“Lulu, what the hell is going on here?” I demanded. Lulu started, coming out of her trance with a guilty, red-faced look. “Maddy!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I live here?”

“Er, right. I know, I’m sorry,” she amended quickly. “I just mean, well, I thought you were coming back later, that’s all. I would have … cleaned.”

Right. “Um, I’ve been gone more than twenty-four hours,” I reminded her. “And I tried to call your cell about fifty times on the way home.”

“You have?” She scrambled out of bed, thankfully fully dressed, and started racing past me to the other room. “Wow, I must have lost track of time.”

“I’ve already seen the drugs, Lulu,” I called after her, realizing exactly what she was headed to do.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Turned around slowly to face me. “Drugs?” she asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Oh, please. Save it. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Oh, you think—” She laughed. A brittle laugh that sounded more hyena than human. “That’s just Ritalin.”

Ritalin? As in, the medication used to treat ADHD? Did she think I just fell off the turnip truck or something? “Since when does Ritalin come in a white powder?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in my best skeptical look. I felt kind of like my mother and tried to remember all the tricks I used to use when I was lying, in case Lulu tried to pull any of them on me. Not that I would have ever lied about something like this.

“It doesn’t. Drummer’s doctor prescribed the pills. But he’s been on them so long, he’s like, um, immune to swallowing them now. And his jerk doctor won’t up his dosage. So he crushes them up and snorts them to get the medicine directly into his bloodstream.”

She actually thought I was going to buy that? That her buddy Drummer was simply self-medicating? Would Mom have considered that a good excuse?