Three Girls And A Leading Man (19 page)

“Nate, it’s Annie,” I said after
Nate’s voicemail had picked up. “Listen, I know we had talked about hanging out
tonight, but I have to cancel. Jen and Ginny both have the morning off
tomorrow, which never happens. So we’re going out tonight. Sorry, babe. I’ll
make it up to you, okay? Call me.”

I hung up, feeling a slight twinge
of regret. Since the show had started its run, I was pretty tied up most
weekends. With Nate working late most weeknights, we weren’t seeing each as
much as we would have liked.

But I hadn’t seen the girls in even
longer, so it was really no contest.

Ginny came over to get ready with
us, and it was almost like old times. Tina had already moved out, and it was
feeling more like our house again. I was determined to enjoy it until Matt
moved in.

I had agreed to Jen’s plan, feeling
like I didn’t really have much choice. It didn’t seem ideal for me, but what
could I do? Tell Jen no, we needed to find another roommate? What if she
decided she wanted to live with Matt more than me? What would I do then?

Besides, if the show did end up
going to Chicago, I wouldn’t be around for awhile. And I couldn’t leave Jen in
the lurch like that. So Matt had begun the process of buying the house from our
landlord, who was happy enough to get it off his hands in this market. They
were closing in two weeks.

I tried to push all of that out of
my mind, though. Tonight was girls’ night, and I was really excited.

“What do you think about this?”
Ginny asked, coming out of the bathroom in a flowing, frumpy prairie dress.

“Where the hell did you get that
thing?” I asked her.

“It was in your closet,” she
responded.

I squinted at it, and in fact did
remember buying it last summer. But I usually wore it with a scarf belted
around the waist, to make it look less…voluminous. And I certainly never wore
it with a cardigan, the way Ginny was now.

“It’s not really you, Gin,” I told
her, struggling to be polite and wishing Jen would hurry up and get out here.
She was much better at this type of thing. I was more likely to tell Ginny that
she looked ridiculous.

“I just feel like all of my clothes
are too immature,” she said, sighing. “I still dress like I’m in college. I
mean, I’m a mom now. Shouldn’t I be dressing like it?”

“Okay, who the hell are you and
what did you do with my best friend?” I asked, unable to play polite anymore.
Ginny was the most fashion-conscious girl I knew. Her favorite pastime in the
world was to troll through sample sales and resale stores to get her hands on
designer stuff that fit her budget. She didn’t dress slutty, but she did like to
show off her figure—and I couldn’t blame her there.

“Josh’s mom said something to me,”
she said, walking into my room and flopping down on the bed.”

“Mrs. Stanley?” I asked, feeling
angry at the very mention of her name. That woman had very nearly ruined
Ginny’s life, not to mention Danny’s.

“She was over yesterday; they’d
been on vacation and she wanted to drop off some presents for Josh and Danny.
Anyhow, she gave me this frumpy old sweatshirt from Miami Beach. I mean, who
goes to Miami and comes back with a sweatshirt?”

“Evil old hags,” I said, eager for
her to get to the juicy part.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. So
basically after she gives it to me she looks me over, totally judgmental, and
says something about how she thought of me when she saw it because she figured
I’d be grateful for something more appropriate.”

“God, what a bitch,” I said. “Where
was Josh when this was going on?”

“Outside with his dad, looking at
his car. He’s been having carburetor trouble.”

“Did you tell him what she said?”

Ginny just shrugged. “He would only
get mad. Their relationship is bad enough as it is.”

Josh, to his credit, had not
forgiven his parents for their meddling. They rarely saw them, and I knew Ginny
felt guilty about this.

“Virgina McKensie, it is not your
fault that his mother is a horrible witch,” I said firmly. “Don’t you go
feeling guilty for what she did. And for God’s sake, don’t listen to a word she
says. She’s just jealous that she’s a dried-up old hag while you’re still hot,
even after having a baby. So screw her, okay?”

“You’re right,” Ginny said, giving
me a watery little smile. “I just don’t want to embarrass Danny when he gets
bigger. I don’t want to be one of those middle-aged women who still think
they’re teenagers.”

“When you start wearing tube tops
to the playground I promise I’ll put a stop to it, okay?”

“Deal,” she said.

“Now please, take that dress off
and throw it away. I can never look at it the same way again.”

In the end, Ginny picked a black
tank top dotted with sequins. She paired it with a pair of tight boot-cut jeans
and tall black heels. Needless to say, she was a total knockout—and not
the least bit inappropriate.

“You look great,” she said, looking
me over.

My tastes were a bit more eclectic
than my friends, and I had settled on a vintage sixties-style dress that I had
ordered online. It was very mod and I loved it.

“I feel dressed down next to the
two of you,” Jen said once she’d joined us, looking down at her black pants and
white button-up top.

“Add some jewelry,” Ginny advised,
apparently over her fashion crisis and ready to be our guru again. “That will
dress it up. And for God’s sake, unbutton a few of those buttons.”

We ended up at a Mexican restaurant
that we all liked. They served huge margaritas (the basis of their appeal) and
kept free refills coming on their homemade tortillas and salsa.

“So, only two more weeks of the
run,” Jen said after she had sampled her margarita. “Are you sad or relieved?”

“I guess that depends on what
happens next,” I said.

“Still no word on Chicago?”

“Only rumors,” I said. “Nothing
will happen until after Christmas, so I’m trying not to think about it too
much.”

“What does Nate think?” Ginny asked
casually.

“We haven’t really talked about,” I
said, shrugging.

“Don’t you think you should?” she
pressed.

“Why?”

“Well, don’t you want to know where
you stand?”

“Ginny,” I said, sighing. “Why do
we have to keep having this conversation? I know where I stand. We have fun
together and we like to spend time together. Nothing more, nothing less. Why is
that so hard for you to understand?”

“Because I know you,” she said, her
voice suddenly firm. “Better than just about anyone. So I can tell when you’re
spouting bullshit.”

I stared at her. Where had that
come from?

“I would rather not talk about this
anymore,” I said flatly.

“Too bad,” she said. “Because I
want to.”

“Okay, girls,” Jen said wearily.
She’d had many years of experience diffusing mine and Ginny’s bickering. We
were best friends and we loved each other to death, but we’d also known each
other since we were five. A bit of bickering was only to be expected, I guess.
“Let’s order first, and then we can choose a topic, okay?”

I looked down at my menu, feeling
irritated with Ginny for reasons I couldn’t really put into words. I knew that
she loved me and had my best interests at heart, but it really bugged me when
she acted like she knew what I was feeling better than I did.

After our waitress took our order,
Ginny leaned back in her chair. “Look,” she said. “I didn’t mean to piss you
off. I just don’t understand why you feel like you can’t be honest about this
kind of stuff with us.”

“Are you calling me a liar now?” I
asked, color flooding my cheeks.

She just rolled her eyes at me.
“Stop being a drama queen,” she scoffed. “All I’m saying is you seem to be
terrified to tell us that you have feelings for someone, even when we all can
see that you do. What do you think, that we’re going to judge you or
something?”

“I don’t think you’ll judge me,” I
said.

“Do you think it will mess up your
tough girl reputation?” she pressed.

“Jesus, Ginny,” I muttered, not
liking this conversation one bit.

“Nate is crazy about you,” she
said. “Anyone can see it. He’s totally fallen for you. And I can see you
starting to sweat right now, just from me bringing it up. So I think that’s
something we should deal with.”

“I just…” I stammered, not knowing
how to respond. “It freaks me out, okay?” I finally snapped.

“Okay,” she said, smiling at me.

“Something funny about that?”

“No, I’m just happy that you told
me something real.”

I glared at her and didn’t respond.

“Listen to me, okay? You don’t have
to respond and you can hate me when I’m done, but you need to hear this.” She
waited until I met her gaze before she continued. “I get that all the stuff
that went down with your dad made you feel freaked out about guys—”

“Oh, God,” I said, throwing my
napkin down. “Can we please not have the whole
‘her-dad-abandoned-her-so-she-mistrusts-men’ conversation? It’s so cliché. And
not true.”

“I was actually talking more about
your mom,” she said sharply.

That shut me up.

“I know that you’re terrified of
being like her. We both do.” She gestured to Jen, who looked at me sadly. “We
understand that, okay?”

“No you don’t,” I said quietly.
“You didn’t live with her after he left. You don’t know what that was like.”

“No, but my parents did have their
own special set of issues,” she said flatly. “And so did Jen’s.”

I fell silent at that. Ginny was
totally right, of course. She had a terrible relationship with her parents, had
since she was a little kid. They never approved of anything she did, and in
response, she acted out like crazy. Partying, drinking, hooking up with random
guys—that was Ginny’s life until she met Josh.

Jen, on the other hand, had parents
who were crazy about her. But her father’s alcohol addiction had destroyed
their family and nearly killed him. Her mom had turned into a work-obsessed
robot in order to cope, and did her best to pass those traits off onto Jen.

“Did you ever think that there’s a
reason the three of us are friends?” Jen asked quietly.

“We’re friends because Ginny and I
lived on the same street since we were babies,” I said, not interested in some
pseudo-psych babble. “Then we met you in high school and the three of us hit it
off.”

“That’s why we
became
friends,” Jen said, refusing to be put off by my tone. “But
why are we still friends? How many of the girls we went to high school with are
still close with their former best friends? Who do you know that stayed as
close as we are?”

“No one,” Ginny agreed.

“We stayed this close because we
became each other’s families,” Jen continued. “We all came from screwed-up
homes, right? None of us had someone in our family to connect with. We all
needed
someone when we met.”

I had a sudden mental image of
Ginny sneaking into my house when we were ten. I had finally admitted to her
that I was having nightmares when my dad was gone. So for two months one summer
she snuck into my room every night after her parents had tucked her in and
slept in my bed with me. I met her eyes, and I knew she was thinking about the
same thing.

“All I’m saying,” she said softly,
“is that we know you, Annie. You’re our family. So you can talk to us about
stuff.” She paused. “And you don’t have to get mad at me when I tell you this:
if you keep throwing away guys the way you’ve always done, you’re going to end
up every bit as unhappy as she is.”

I stared at her, taking in her
words as my heart sank. Everything I had done since I was thirteen years old
had been an effort to escape my mother’s fate. And now Ginny was telling me
that it was hopeless, that I was going to end up like her anyhow. The thought
made me sick.

“Don’t throw Nate away,” she said
softly. “That’s the last thing I’m going to say on the subject. But please
think about it, okay?”

I nodded, unable to speak. Luckily,
the waiter arrived with our food and I was spared the rest of the conversation.
Jen deftly steered discussion away to safer matters—something ridiculous
that Kiki had done in front of a client. As Jen talked, Ginny laughed and drank
her margarita like nothing had happened.

But under the table, she reached
out and grabbed my hand. And she didn’t let go for a very long time.

Chapter Twenty-four

“Annie, can you come in and talk
with me for a minute?”

I looked up to see Jenner Collins
standing in the doorway to my dressing room.

“Sure,” I told him. “I’m just about
done here.”

I swept the rest of my cosmetics
back into their case and stood up from the dressing table. We had just wrapped
the second-to-last Sunday matinee of the run. Next weekend we were closing. So
far I hadn’t heard anything but rumors regarding the fate of our show after
this run, but looking up at Jenner I had a feeling that was about to change.

Jenner gestured for me to follow
him, and headed down the hall to the small room he had been using as an office.
Tabitha was sitting there on one side of his makeshift desk, and he gestured
for me to join her, going around to sit across from us.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the
rumors about Chicago,” he said, not wasting any time.

I nodded. “People are saying the
announcement is imminent,” I told him.

“Well, the gossipers are bound to
get it right once in a while,” Tabitha said drily. I looked at her in surprise.
Did that mean…

“Annie, we’re taking the show to
Chicago in the New Year to do an eight week run,” Jenner said. “Beyond that, we
have investors showing a lot of interest in New York. If the Chicago run goes
well, we could be off-Broadway by the spring.”