The Big Picture (16 page)

He chuckles and pivots to leave. “Oh, the things kids say.” And walks away in his lizard skin boots.

“It’s not over yet, though. Right?” Frances looks at all of us, her black eyes fierce.

“I think we have to admit defeat here.” I stand shoulder to shoulder with my friend. “We tried. We did everything.”

“Not everything.” She shakes her head and stalks back to her chair. “What if we
didn’t
do everything? I don’t think I can live with that. My father’s family left Mexico for freedom and a better life. My ancestors would roll in their graves if they saw me giving up like this.” She plops down. “And I won’t do it. I will not back down.”

“It’s just a stupid drive-in.” Chelsea’s whiny voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

Frances leaps up. “Stupid?
Stupid?
”

“Yeah.” Chelsea pops her gum. “I don’t get why you’re throwing such a hissy and — ”

“Okay, let’s go get something to drink, eh?” I grab Chelsea’s arm and drag her away from Frances. “We’ll be back soon!”

Chelsea jerks her arm back as we hike toward the concession stand. “What are you doing?”

Um, saving your life before Frances rips off your face. And you’re welcome
.

“Frances is really upset about the drive-in. Most people are. You could be a little more sensitive to that.” I know, I’m a snippy hag. I can’t help it. But if the snack bar were selling clues, this girl would need a double order.

“I just think it’s a dumb thing to get worked up over. Some people have
real
problems.”

Wait a minute. I have Chelsea Blake telling
me
about
real
problems?

We settle into line at the busy snack bar. With tonight’s crowd, Buford’s selling a lot of popcorn.

“I know you know about my dad, Katie.” Chelsea locks her eyes onto mine.

I say nothing, not sure how to tread. Did Charlie tell her he told me? Or is she just taking a guess?

“Daddy will get out of it.”

“Um . . . okay.”

“He’s totally innocent. It’s just a clerical error.”

I don’t think they usually haul away cars for clerical errors.

“He belongs with me, you know.”

I struggle to focus. “Your dad?”

“Charlie. You’re not his type.”

Her transitions could use a little work. You know, a little warning before her whiplash topic change? Wait a minute — not his type? “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“You know.” Her indulgent smile has me seeing red. “He just doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he’s fallen for me again. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings during this hard time for you. He’s such a good guy.”

Yeah, which makes him
so
completely wrong for you.

“He wants to send you off with a smile and not mad at him. Or me.”

I laugh. “Oh, I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”
I thoroughly dislike you. Maybe you’re getting the two confused.

She steps closer to me, and the scent of popcorn mingles with her expensive perfume. “Because we’re pretty much back together.”

My heart takes a nosedive, but I keep my face as expressionless as Maxine’s after a Botox injection. “Chelsea, I really don’t care.”

“I know you do. It’s okay. If anybody knows how hard it is to let Charlie Benson go, it’s me.”

“You didn’t seem to have too much trouble letting him go a couple months ago when you were lip-locked with Trevor Jackson.” She blanches. “Remember him? The boy
I
was dating?”

Chelsea’s pink mouth drops. “That was just two actors caught up in a moment.”

“Really? Well, your hands were caught up in — ”

“That was then. This is now. And you have to accept the fact you and Charlie are never going to happen,” she snaps. “He and I are so much more alike. I’m his kind.”

“His
kind
?”

Though I’m taller than she is, she still somehow manages to look down her nose at me. “You come from a different place. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but — ”

“You’re right, there’s nothing wrong with it. And let’s get one thing straight here, Chelsea. If you think Charlie dates girls because of their pedigree, then you don’t even know him. Unlike you,
he
isn’t that shallow. He cares about the person, not her background or how much money she has.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant. And I think I know Charlie. He was my boyfriend after all.” Her voice drips with possessiveness. “But you need to totally walk away from him so he can move on. He feels sorry for you, that’s all. Do you really want him hanging around for that reason?”

I step out of the line. “I wish you and Charlie the best. I hope you’re very happy. But next time you start counting off the ways you’re
so much better than me, you think long and hard. I don’t know about you, but when my momma went to jail, I got a whole new perspective.” I shake my head in disgust. “Oh, but that’s right. You won’t have to deal with that. Because your daddy just made a clerical error.”

Shaking, I walk away.

“CHELSEA IS CRYING.”

Thirty minutes later Charlie looms over my chair.

I peel my attention away from the light saber duel onscreen. “What?”

“I said Chelsea is crying.” His whole body is tense; his gray eyes cold.

I already regret what I said to her earlier. It was wrong, and I know it. But now, seeing him all steamed up and defending her like he’s her man, my regret seems far away.

I can tell my bland expression is ticking him off.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

With a glance at Frances and Nash, who now think we’re the main attraction, I get up and walk out of hearing range. Charlie follows, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He glares. “Well?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re sorry?”

“Okay . . .” Yeah, I
could
do that.

“I can’t believe you.” Charlie runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I specifically asked you not to say anything about her dad. I
trusted
you with that information. I told you not to tell anyone. And what do you do? You throw it in Chelsea’s face.”

Dude, there’s a whole list of things I’d like to throw in Chelsea’s face.

“She was baiting me. I wasn’t going to stand there and take it.”

He gets eye level with me. “Did you or did you not basically tell her her dad would be going to jail?”

“I guess, but — ”

He holds both hands up and steps away. “I cannot believe you.”

Yes, I think we’ve established that. “Did your little princess tell you what she said to me?”

“Does it matter?”

That stops me cold. “It used to. I guess now that I have a one-way ticket out of town, you don’t care, right? Chelsea can just say anything she wants. Be a witch to anyone she wants.”

“You have no idea what she’s going through.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, Charlie.” I nod and smile. “Okay, you win. Yes, I said something hateful to Chelsea. I’m sorry. She didn’t provoke it at all. I did it to hurt her — just for the fun of it. Because that’s who I am — who I really am.”

“I never said that.”

I glance over his shoulder at the In Between moon, not really seeing it, but looking right through. “Somehow in the last few weeks you’ve changed your opinion of me — and of Chelsea. I’m not going to stand here and fight with you to try and change your mind. I’m better than that.” I drag my gaze back to his. “I said too much tonight, and for that I’m sorry. You can tell your
girlfriend
that.” I wince at my own jealous tone. “But I won’t be dragged into her petty little world.” I turn around. “I’ll leave that for you.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” he calls after me.

I pause. And turn around. “You know me, Charlie Benson.” I shake my head, a trace of a bitter smile on my face. “And I thought I knew you.”

Chapter nineteen

“COME ON, SUNSHINE. WAKEY, WAKEY, eggs and bakey!”

I lift one heavy eyelid and see Maxine sitting on my bed, with Rocky panting beside her.

“Upsy daisy!”

“Get that dog out of my room.” I don’t want him drooling on my rug.

“What’s that?” Maxine raises her volume like
I’m
the senior citizen. “You want Rocky to give you a big, wet kiss? Okay. Up, Rocky! Up!”

“No!” I raise my hands to block my face, but not before the nine-hundred-pound bag-of-slobbers wets me down with his giant tongue.
Ewww
. Bathed in dog spit.

Maxine flips my blanket off. “Come on. Family breakfast downstairs. You don’t want to miss it. James is fixing waffles. Real ones. Not gluten-free, wheat-free, nasty organic cardboard ones.”

“Just go away.” Normally the lure of real food with all its additives and preservatives would have me sliding down the banister. But not today. Not after last night. It’s like I have a fight-with-Charlie hangover.

“Aw, why so glum, sweet pea? Did the big, bad blonde sit too close to you last night?”

I yank the sheet over my head, desperate to get away from Rocky’s Milk Bone breath. “I don’t even want to hear Chelsea’s name.”

Maxine snorts. “I was talking about me.” She scoots in closer and leans over me. “Trouble in sophomore paradise?”

“I want to sleep. It’s only seven-thirty.” And Bubba’s Big Picture goes down at eight. I find this a dark day and one that would best be observed from the comfort of my bed and my pjs. And maybe a little MTV later. And Diet Dr Pepper.

“Somebody’s got her Victoria’s Secrets in a wad.”

“Spare me the details of your wedgie.”

Maxine chuckles. “I meant you. What happened last night? You know I hate to be left out.”

“Does it matter? You’ll just read it in my journal later.”

“True. But I like to hear it from the source. Saves me a lot of time.”

I rise up and spill out last night’s details. “Besides . . . I’m mad at you.”

Maxine studies a manicured nail. “Is this about borrowing your shoes last night?”

“Um . . . no. You did?”

“Is this about using your Abercrombie T-shirt to wipe up my spilled nail polish?”

“What?”

“Or are you mad because I used the last of your perfume as air freshener in the bathroom?”

I rub my eyes. When I fully wake up, I have a lot to be mad about. “You and the mayor, Maxine!”

“Oh. That.”

“Yeah,
that
. What is that about? What are you thinking?”

“Ten-gallon hats are kinda sexy?”

I sit up, grab a ponytail holder from my bedside table, and bundle my hair. “No, they’re not. You know who is hot? Sam.” Ugh, my stomach turns. “Er, for you, that is. Maxine, what are you doing pushing him away like that?”

“Me pushing
him
away? He’s been seen around town with that . . . that . . . tramp.”

“Betty Lou wears Velcro shoes. That doesn’t exactly scream hoochie mama to me.”

Maxine snorts. “You’d be surprised.”

“Look, I know this is just about making Sam jealous. But couldn’t you pick someone else?”

“William is a man of culture. A man of class.”

“His Cadillac honks ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas.’”

“Mind your own business.”

But this
is
my business. I can’t leave with everything so unsettled. I need to know everyone is okay, and life is as it should be.

Schlumping behind Maxine, I follow her downstairs to the kitchen. James mans his post at the waffle iron, whistling a happy tune.

“Morning, ladies.”

“Where’s Millie?” And does she know James is fixing food that is neither natural nor gross?

“She went back to bed for a bit. Thought she’d catch a few more
z
s.”

I frown and grab a juice glass. Lately Millie’s been getting worn down by her chemo. She’s even been going in for fluids to keep her up and running. Just another loose end for me to stress about when I leave. Millie needs me to stay around and help her. At some point the contractors in town will get caught up with all of the tornado destruction and fix Maxine’s apartment. Then she won’t be around to help Millie as much. Of course, her help consists of dusting the remote control and getting the mail.

“Are you okay, Katie?” James flops two waffles on my plate, and I inhale their sweet aroma. Oh, sweet bread product with absolutely no nutritional value — how I have missed you.

“Yeah.” I drench my plate in syrup. “Just tired.” Tired of worrying. Tired of my brain being on permanent rewind and watching last night over and over. Tired of this constant feeling of being pulled in too many directions.

“Buford Wallis will be okay. He’ll find other work.” James serves his mother-in-law.

“But the drive-in makes him happy. Bubba’s Big Picture is his dream.” I stab a bite of waffle and put it in my mouth.
Yum
. Heaven. “And your
boyfriend
could stop it all.”

Maxine lifts a shoulder. “When that man’s made up his mind, there’s no stopping him.”

Ring! Ring!

James steps into the kitchen to answer the phone. “Katie, it’s for you.” He eyes the clock with a scowl. “It’s a boy.”

I pick up the phone as Maxine makes kissy noises from the table. “Hello?”

“Katie, it’s Charlie.”

Charlie? It’s seven forty-five. What’s going on? But I push down any fear and remind myself I’m mad at him. “Yeah?”

“Katie . . . I need you.”

I know that’s right
.

“It’s Frances. She’s climbed up to the top of Bubba’s Big Picture snack bar and refuses to come down.”

“
What?
”

“I came out this morning to . . . um, well, to take one last look at the drive-in. And Frances was here. Katie, you’ve got to talk her out of this. The demolition crew will be here any minute.”

“I . . . I . . .” Oh, the dilemma! I have waffles waiting on me, and who knows when we’ll be together again. “I’ll see you in five minutes.” I run back to my plate and inhale the rest of one waffle. “Gotta go.”

“Where?” James sets his morning paper down. “What was all that about?”