The Long Way Home (8 page)

I scowled, “France, you’ll die if you eat that.”

He winked, “Worry about your breakfast and keeping it down.”

I shook my head and sighed.

He cut a piece of egg and picked it up with a piece of
sausage. He somehow managed to get a chunk of potato on the fork and stuffed
the huge bite into his mouth. I didn’t realize my fork was down and my eyes
were wide. He laughed, “What?” he asked through the huge mouthful of food.

I shook my head and looked around at the beautiful waterfront
home, “You don’t suit this place. It isn’t how I imagined your beach house. I
imagined it more like a log cabin.”

He gave me a quizzical
look,
“No?”
he scratched his scruffy dark beard. “If it makes you feel better, I just
bought a log house in Boulder.”

I rolled my eyes.

The furnishings were very nice. Everything was done with
taste and elegance. The whitewashed wood color and light blues made the house
feel like it was part of the beach. The bright, airy feel and huge windows
brought so much light into the place. He looked like a basement dweller
who
ate chips from the bag in front of a TV. It made me
smile. I liked that he had more money than Philip, but it never changed him. No
matter what they tried, he never stopped being real.

“So you still think I’m a slob? I should be living like
Jeremiah Johnson?”

I closed my mouth and shook my head, “No, you’re just…just
different and the same, all at once. You haven’t changed any of the good
things.”

His eyes had a twinkle to them, a zest for humor and life,
“I've changed. I’ve changed tons. You just haven’t been around much to see it.”

I tried to keep the smile on my face but I couldn’t. I felt
sick and my life was in the toilet.

I put a hand forward, “I didn’t mean that, the way it came
out. I don’t think you’re just a slob. You’re just casual and real, and I
always liked that.”

He still smiled, “I get it. My dad wasn’t a cardiologist like
yours. I was the scholarship kid at your school. I get it.”

I felt sick, “France, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,
at all. You’ve been my best friend for a hundred years.”

“It feels that way sometimes. I can't believe it’s been so
many years.”

I ate a bite of breakfast and tried not to gag. I swallowed,
shuddering.

He shrugged, “Besides, it would take a heck of a lot more
than that to hurt my feelings. I wasn’t offended, honestly.”

I put down my fork and nodded. I drank the rest of the liquid
and felt like I might be sick again. I pointed, “I know it’s impolite to leave
during a meal, but do you mind if I take a shower?”

He looked stunned, “Of course not. Why are you asking? You’re
being weird. You’ve been weird for days. Why are you here, Jack? What’s going
on?”

I shook my head, “Headache and need shower first.”

He nodded, “Take a shower. You look like shit.
There’s
some girls’ clothes in my room. Go pick stuff out.
After that, we are talking about this shit.”

I waved him off as I sauntered away, “Thank you, but
puck-fuck clothing is not my thing.” I was an idiot. I hated the way my
parents’ snobbery had rubbed off on me and sometimes slipped out in the worst
way. I didn’t take any of the clothes or go near his bedroom. I was scared of
what I would find in there. I went into the bathroom and closed the door,
leaning my back against it and trying to catch my breath. It was a beautiful
room with a huge window overlooking the beach. I pulled my clothes off and
started the shower. I felt miserable. I couldn’t believe I’d nearly driven
drunk. I’d never done anything like that before in my life.

I climbed in and leaned against the wall. The shower was
massive. I felt my legs giving out as I slid down the wall.

I was an idiot to believe Phil ever wanted to be with me, for
me. He wanted the right cow from the right farm. He cared about my branding,
not me. He was like the rest of the guys in my world. I closed my eyes as tears
leaked out. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. I was ashamed of trying and
forcing myself to be there in that relationship. I was ashamed of what everyone
was going to say. I would lose my friends and my family if I walked away. The
tears rained down my face, becoming one with the water streaming down my face.

I cradled my head, sobbing into my hands.

I finished the shower and stepped out to find a stack of
clothes on the counter. I stood and stared at them.

He had come into the bathroom? Wouldn’t be the first time.

The door was closed but he had come in at some point. Had he
heard me crying? I dried off and pulled on the plain purple tee shirt and black
jogging pants. They only came mid-calf. I hated them but it was nice to be in
something comfortable.

I gathered my clothes and stuffed them into the bag with
CHANEL. I made sure the dress was wrapped properly so my other clothes wouldn’t
touch it. I noticed my boots and pouted. I picked one up and sighed. The sand
had scuffed the hell out of the leather.

I pulled them on and picked up my bags. I looked like an
idiot in
capri
jogging pants
and knee-high leather boots.

I grabbed one of his pieces of mail and copied down the
address on a piece of paper. On another I wrote,

‘Mike,

Thank you for being you, but I have to go home and face the
music. I can’t run away from this. I swear we will talk about it.

 
XOXO J.D.’

I turned and left the house. The warm, salty air blew across
the driveway at me. I almost smiled at the fresh start and possibilities in it.
I had at least a few days before Phil would alert my family. I could find a
map, let my phone stay dead, and drive home the long way. I would need at least
five days to figure it all out. My sister would know I was missing. She was
like a hound when it came to the tone of my voice, or the way I paused.

She might have alerted them already. The look on my father’s
face would be one of disappointment. He would wonder if I had done enough. He
would wonder if I had ignored my fiancé or let myself slip just a little. I
looked down at the
capri
jogging pants and scuffed boots and laughed to myself.

I shuddered from exhaustion and the possibility I would be
made to return home.

“Jack!”

I looked back, seeing France running down the beach to me.
“What are you doing?”

I pointed towards the
tikis
, “My
car is down there.”

He held up the note, “You owe me more than a note.”

I stepped back, “France, we’ve talked about this a thousand
times. Not today, okay? I’m hung over and exhausted, and I have a whole day of
driving to get through.”

His cheeks blushed, “I love it when you call me France. Now
you know I meant a proper goodbye and a game plan. You know if I wanted your
sexy ass, I would wait for you to be dressed half decent, at least. Not
slumming in my sister’s jogging pants.”

I laughed weakly, “Shit. I hate you sometimes.” I looked at
him sincerely, “I’m really sorry about last night and I feel like an asshole.”

He put a hand up, “Stop saying that damned word. Say it again
and you’ll be sorry.”

“Okay. I have no game plan and I’m thirsty for something like
coffee and a pastry.”

He nodded, “Then you need to come with me. I know where all
the good coffee and pastries are. Now what’s the plan, after you add carbs and
coffee?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know. Go home.”

He pointed behind us, “Your car is at my house. You actually
had to have walked right past it. How are you getting home anyway?”

"Driving." I frowned, was that even possible? How
had I walked past my own car? I was a hot mess. I looked down at the jogging pants
and sneered—okay, just a mess.

As we walked back, he took my hand in his, “Now let’s get you
home.”

I frowned, “What?”

His eyes twinkled, “I have a couple weeks off; I can get you
home and take a flight back.”

I shook my head, “I can't ask that of you. I know you have to
get this place ready.”

He frowned, “You didn’t ask it of me, I offered. But that’s
not the only reason though. You lost your license for a week last night. It’s
being mailed to the police station closest to your address. They wouldn’t give
it to me. The only reason they left you with me, was that they’re fans and you
never actually drove.” He grabbed my bags and started walking towards the car
in the driveway.

I slumped onto the ground in the driveway, “I lost my
license?”

He ran inside and grabbed a small bag of stuff. I stayed
where I was, enjoying my pity party for one. He came back out and offered me
his hand, “Come on, baby. I’ll take you home and you can straighten this whole
thing out with Phil. We’ll get you sorted out. You can stay with me. If Phil
comes and grovels, I'll kick the shit out of him. It'll be fun. Willy told me
you were upset. He said Phil was cheating. I need to beat his ass now anyway.”

I shook my head, “I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t
believe this.” I took his hand.

He walked right over to my car, “This is going to be just
like old times.”

I laughed, “You can't come with me. That’s outrageous. How
can I pay for hotels with no license? I have to fly back. This is crazy.”

He nodded, “I agree. It’s also crazy to drive to South
Carolina and get drunk on a beach and lure unsuspecting men to their demise
with your striptease, and yet, here we are.” His eyes turned serious, “Jack, I
can’t let you leave here without making sure you’re safe. You can't board a
plane without ID, and you can't drive. I can’t let you go home to Phil until I
know the story.” His eyes sparkled, “I mean, you’re welcome to stay if you want
to.”

I laughed, “Seriously, me and you in a small space for the
two-day drive is going to be messy. You forget how much we used to fight.”

He grinned, “Baby, I remember how annoying you are. Get in
the car.” He walked over, opened the trunk of my car and stuffed CHANEL in
there with everything else.

“You had my keys?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I had the special task of driving you home.
Are you okay? We talked about this.”

I shook my head. He climbed into the driver’s seat. I sighed
and got in, looking too big for my car. I closed the door, nestling into the
warm seat. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed as he started the car.

“Dan, hey. Look, I need you to stay at the house and get it
sorted out for Mom and Dad and everyone… I had a party last night, so it's
messy. I cleared everyone out but it's still messy…Yeah, the beach house… About
a week…New York… Thanks, man. Yup, I’ll let you know.” He hung up and looked at
me, “My calendar is clear.”

I smiled, “I can stay here and help you get everything
ready.”

He shrugged, “I really didn’t want to do it. This is good.
It’ll force my family to participate in the task of running the beach house. I
do everything, pay for everything, and they all take. This is going to be a
treat for me.”

He drove slowly out of the parking lot. I closed my eyes,
even though I didn’t want to, and drifted off to sleep.

I woke with a start. We were parked outside of a store. I
looked at a strange man standing outside the window. I jumped up, but stopped
myself from freaking out when I saw the gas pump.

“Shit.” I rubbed my eyes and grabbed my wallet and ran
inside, barefoot. I looked
down,
he had taken my boots
off. I growled and stalked across the store to where he was standing at the
microwave with a stick of pepperoni hanging from his lips. He smiled. I
scowled.

“What?”

I sighed, “You took my boots off? Let me pay for the gas.”

He shook his head, “That’s okay. You can pay me back some
other time. If I pay,
fucktard
Phil can’t track you
around the countryside.”

I stepped back, “Don't swear so loud in here." I glanced
around the dingy gas station. No one even batted an eyelash at him cussing. I
sighed, "Besides, he doesn’t care where I am.”

He shrugged, “If you were mine, which you should have been,
and I screwed up as bad as he has, which for the record I would never do, I
would be scouring the bank accounts to see if you’re alright. I would need to
know where you were and I would be on a flight to come and get you.”

I flinched at the crazed look in his eyes, “He won't do
that.”

He shook his head, “Then it’s like I always said—he
never deserved you in the first place. Fuck him. Let him wonder where you are.
Let him die of curiosity and hate himself. You want a man to suffer, don’t let
him know what you’re doing. You women are all the same, you say too much. You
let us in on too many things. We’re hunters, we need the chase.” The microwave
beeped. He pulled out two wrapped-up round things. He carried them over to the
counter, looking back at me as he paid, “You want anything else?”