Red Queen (3 page)

Alex drove straight to the MGM, where we checked in to our room, a decent-sized suite with a view of the Strip and three separate bedrooms—plus a central living area that came equipped not only with a sofa but a love seat. The price wasn't bad, one hundred and fifty bucks: fifty bucks when split three ways. Still, the weekend was ruining my savings. The library was not exactly a high-paying place to work.

With the sofa and love seat, we had room for another two people. But Jimmy, damn him, was too much of a gentleman to impose. He also seemed reluctant to take Ted up on his offer. He tried his best to find his own room, using our hotel-
room phone to call several hotlines that supposedly could find you a suite on New Year's Eve. But it was all hype; it was Friday evening at the start of summer and Las Vegas was bursting at the seams. Jimmy struck out.

“This couch is softer than my bed,” Alex said, sitting not far from where Jimmy had just finished dialing. I was glad we had temporarily left Ted—who had gone off to find his own room. Alex, it seemed, was determined that Jimmy stay with us.

“We settled the sleeping arrangements in the car,” Debbie said, studying the minibar. Because it was filled with tiny bottles of liquor, and we had checked in to the room using our real IDs, the bar should have been off-limits. But Ted had managed to bypass the locking mechanism before departing for his quarters. I was glad, I loved minibars. The snacks tasted ten times better to me, probably because they cost ten times as much as they were supposed to.

“When we talked about it in the car, we didn't know this suite would be so large,” Alex said.

“We only have one bathroom,” Debbie growled.

“Do you plan on spending the weekend throwing up?” Alex asked.

Jimmy interrupted. “Hey, it's okay—remember, I've got Ted's room as a backup. Don't worry about me.”

Alex went to reply, but then her eyes slipped from Jimmy to me. Her unspoken message couldn't have been clearer. She wasn't worried about Jimmy, she was worried about me. Or
else she was trying to force the two of us back together, which, in her bizarre mind, was the same thing.

It didn't matter. The elephant standing in the room had just quietly roared. It could no longer be ignored. Jimmy and I had to talk—soon, and alone. But I felt too nervous to say it aloud. I stood and caught his eye, and headed toward my room. Jimmy understood, he followed me and shut the door behind him.

Before I could figure out where to sit, or what I should say, he hugged me. The gesture caught me by surprise. I didn't hug him back, not at first, but when he didn't let go, I found my arms creep up and around his broad shoulders. It felt so perfect to stand there and listen to his heartbeat. Yes, that word again, I could not be free of it when I was around Jimmy.

The hug was warm but chaste; he didn't try to kiss me. He didn't even move his arms once he had ahold of me. Although we were standing up, we could have been lying down together, asleep in each other's arms. I don't know how long the hug lasted but it felt like forever . . . compressed into a moment.

Finally, we sat on the bed together. He was holding my hands, or trying to, but I had to keep taking them back to wipe away the silly tears that kept running over my cheeks. He didn't rush me to speak. But he never took his eyes off me, and I felt he was searching my face for the answer to a question he had carried with him a long time.

Of course, I had my own question.

“Why?” I said. The word startled me more than him. It felt so blunt after our tender moment. The question didn't offend him, but he let go of me and sat back on the bed, propping himself up with a pillow.

“Do you remember the day we drove to Newport Beach?” he asked.

“Yes.” It had been during Christmas break, a few days before the holiday. I wasn't likely to forget because it was to turn out to be the worst Christmas of my life. He dumped me December 22. Then I hadn't known what to do with the presents I had bought, or the ones I had made for him. In the end, I hadn't done anything. I still had them in my bedroom closet. They were still wrapped.

“When we got back to Apple Valley, Kari was waiting at my house.” Jimmy paused. “She said she was ten weeks pregnant.”

I froze. “We were together ten weeks.”

Jimmy held up a hand. “I never slept with her once I was with you. I never even kissed her.”

“I believe you.” And I did—he didn't have to swear. Jimmy was incredibly rare; he didn't lie. I added, “Did you believe her?”

“She had an ultrasound with her.”

“That doesn't mean it was yours.”

“Jessie . . .”

“Saying, ‘I'm pregnant, Jimmy, you have to come back to me.' That's like the oldest trick in the book.”

“I know that. I know Kari's not always a hundred percent
straight. But I just had to look in her eyes. She was telling the truth.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don't know.”

“And she was showing a little bit.”

“At ten weeks?” I asked.

“It might have been twelve.”

“And it might have been a folded-up pillowcase.”

He hesitated. “No. She lifted her shirt. It was for real.”

“And she wanted to keep it.”

“Yes. That wasn't an issue.”

“She wanted you back. That was
the
issue.”

He lowered his head. “I don't know. Maybe.”

It was a lot to digest. It was a minute before I could speak.

“You should have told me,” I said.

“I'm sorry. I wanted to, but I felt it would hurt you more to know she was having my baby.”

I shook my head. “You've been good so far, real good, but that, what you just said, is nuts. Nothing could hurt worse than that call I got. Do you remember it? ‘Hello, Jessie, how are you doing? Good? That's good. Hey, I've got some bad news. I don't know exactly how to tell you this. But Kari and I are getting back together. I know this is sort of sudden, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but Kari and I . . . we're not done yet. We have stuff we have to work out. Are you there, Jessie?' ”

He stared at me. “God.”

“What?”

“You remember it word for word.”

“I'll remember it till the day I die.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't say that word again. Tell me why.”

“I just told you why. She was pregnant. I felt I had to do the right thing and go back to her.”

“Why didn't you tell me the truth?”

“I was ashamed, it's true, but I honestly thought the truth would hurt you more.”

“That's so lame. Didn't you stop to imagine how I felt? You left me hanging. Hanging above nothing 'cause I knew nothing. One moment I'm the love of your life and the next a cheerleader has taken my place.”

He nodded. “It was dumb, I made a mistake. I should have explained everything to you. Please forgive me.”

“No.”

“Jessie?”

“I don't forgive you. I can't. I suffered too much. You say you felt you had to do the right thing so you went back to her. Let me ask you this—were you still in love with her?”

“I was never in love with Kari.”

“Were you in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then what you did was wrong. So she was pregnant. So she wept and begged you to come back for the sake of your child. That doesn't matter. I was more important to you, I should have
been more important. You should have said no to her.”

“I couldn't.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

“Because when she rolled up her shirt and I saw that growing bump, and realized that it was true, that it was mine, my flesh and blood, I knew I had to take care of that baby.”

“Bullshit.”

“You're wrong, Jessie. At that moment, nothing mattered more to me than that child. And yes, forgive me, but it mattered even more than us.”

I stood. “Get out.”

He stood. “We should talk more.”

“No, leave. This was all a . . . mistake. Go stay with Ted.”

Jimmy stepped toward the door, put his hand on the knob. He was going to leave, he wasn't going to fight me. That's what I liked about him, how reasonable he could be. And that's what I hated about him, that he hadn't fought for me. I was the one who had to stop him.

“Where's the baby now?” I asked. Kari had graduated at the end of January and left campus early. I assumed she'd had the child.

But Jimmy lowered his head. He staggered.

“We lost him,” he said.

“She had a miscarriage?”

“No.” The word came out so small. I put my hand to my mouth.

“Don't tell me she had the baby and it died?” I gasped.

He turned and looked at me, pale as plaster. So frail, so hollow. I felt if I said the wrong word, he'd shatter.

“His name was Huck. He lived for three days.”

“Why did he die?” I asked.

The wrong words. Jimmy turned, opened the door, spoke over his shoulder. “You're right, I should go. We can talk later.”

He left; it was amazing how much it hurt. It was like he was breaking up with me all over again. It was then I wished I hadn't said the “why” word. We should have left it at the hug.

I DID NOT LEAVE MY
room for some time, and when I did, I found a note from Debbie and Alex. They had left to find the kids from our class and plan the night's festivities. That's the word Alex chose—“festivities.” I doubted she had seen Jimmy's face when he had left our suite.

I was tired and knew we'd be up late. I tried napping but had trouble falling asleep. Huck haunted me, perhaps the way he haunted Jimmy. I didn't fool myself. Jimmy had won our fight—if it could be called that. And here I had been positive I would humiliate him when we finally spoke. I was sure I owned the moral high ground. But Jimmy was right, the child was his own flesh and blood; it transcended infatuation, even our love, never mind that the infant had died.

I kept wondering what had killed Huck.

A part of me sensed Jimmy did not know the whole story.

At some point I must have blacked out. The next thing I knew, Alex was sitting beside me on my bed. “You all right, Jessie?” she asked softly.

She had seen Jimmy's face after all. She was concerned about me.

I sat up quickly. “I'm fine. What time is it?”

“Five.”

“Five! Why did you let me sleep so long?”

“You looked exhausted. Besides, the gang's not getting together until six.”

“Who exactly is the gang?”

Alex continued to study me. “Not sure, whoever comes. But I've got some good news. You know how you said you wanted to see
O
?”

“Don't tell me you got tickets?”

“Six seats. Ted got them from a scalper. He says he doesn't care who comes with us. He's even volunteered not to go, in case you want to bring a date.”

“Bullshit. He never said that.”

Alex shrugged. “All right, I made that up. But he's not stupid. He saw the way you and Jimmy were looking at each other.” She paused. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Later,” I said.

I took a quick shower and put on the only dress I had brought—something short, black and sexy that Debbie had sewn for me for my birthday. She had designed it after a dress
we had seen on
Project Runway
—we were all addicted to the show. Debbie's dress was even more inspired than the one on TV. She was a woman of many talents. A pity she kept most of them hidden.

Our class was staying at the MGM, but our celebratory dinner was to take place at the Bellagio. It was supposed to have the best restaurants. Our reservations were for a high-priced Italian bistro but our class was no sooner gathered in the Bellagio lobby than an argument broke out. Half our gang didn't like Italian—they wanted to eat elsewhere. On the surface that didn't seem like a major problem. Unfortunately, as Debbie shouted over the bedlam, we had already promised the hotel a minimum of two hundred guests.

“If we don't all eat here, we lose our discount,” Debbie said.

“How much is that?” someone demanded.

“Forty percent,” Debbie replied.

About fifty percent of our class didn't give a damn. They split for other hotels. When we finally made it to the restaurant, the manager looked like he'd have a nervous breakdown when we told him we were missing half our entourage. He screamed at us in Italian, but since none of us spoke the language, it didn't do much good.

He had no choice, he had to seat us immediately. We were taking up the entire waiting area. Jimmy didn't show, which hurt. I had told him where we were eating. Of course I had also told him to get out of my room.

Ted sat beside me. He said he had not seen or heard from Jimmy. “He didn't stop at your room?” I asked.

“No,” Ted said.

“Did you try calling his cell?”

Ted looked annoyed. “I'm not his babysitter. I offered him a place to crash. If he doesn't want it, that's his business.”

I touched Ted's arm. “You're right. Sorry.”

Ted tried to act casual, and would have succeeded if he didn't sound like he was choking on his next question. “You two back together?”

“Absolutely not,” I said.

The food was excellent. I had a pasta dish with shrimp. The cook had seasoned it with a fantastic mix of herbs. The incredible taste quickly improved my mood. By the end of the meal I was laughing with the rest of my class. It might have been the alcohol. Alex had flashed her fake ID and convinced our waiter we were teachers from Apple Valley High. He brought us two bottles of chilled wine that the outside heat caused us to polish off way too quickly.

I cannot hold my liquor. Two glasses of anything above ten proof and I fall in love with the universe. Worse, the love created by my inebriated state usually wants to flow in a direction. And since kindhearted Ted was sitting beside me, I couldn't stop thinking how he had gotten us
O
tickets and fake IDs, offered Jimmy a room, and broken into our minibar. . . . Why, I felt I just had to express my undying gratitude to him.