Twisted (16 page)

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I smile gratefully. “Thanks, Billy. For everything.” Then I climb

out of the truck and he drives away.

After letting my mother know I’m back, I head to my room. I shut

the door behind me and lean against it. Exhausted.

Talk about a long frigging day.

My mother’s cleaned my room. Not that it was messy before,

but I can tell. The pillows are fluffed just a bit more, and my cell phone sits neatly on the nightstand.

I kick off my shoes, pick it up, and turn it on. Despite my hissy

fit earlier, it still works. I stare at the numbers. They’re lit up. Calling to me. Taunting me.

It would be so easy. Just ten quick digits and I could hear his

voice. It’s been forever since I heard his voice. My hands shake a little. Like a junkie, needing a fix—just a taste.

Do you think he’d pick up?

Do you think he’d be alone if he did?

And that’s the thought that kills the craving. There’s no way

I’m calling.

Still . . . I don’t listen to my voicemails often. Usually I just

check the missed call list. I delete my voicemails even less.

I scroll down the screen, to the date I need.

And press play.

“Hey, babe. The golf outing ran over. I was gonna stop and pick
up a bottle for later. You want Dom or Philipponnat? You know what?

On second thought—screw the champagne. You taste better than both
of them put together. I’ll be home in five minutes.”

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I close my eyes and let his words wash over me. Drew has an

amazing voice. Calm and soothing—but devilishly seductive at the

same time. he totally could’ve gone into radio.

I press another button.

This time his tone is teasing.
“Kaate, you’re late. Tell Delores to
pick out her own goddamn shoes. You’ve got a boyfriend who’s sitting in
a big, frothy Jacuzzi all by his lonesome. Come home, sweetheart. I’m
here waiting for you.”

If only that was true today.

There’s more—some are quick and to the point, some are

downright dirty. And I listen to every single one. he doesn’t say “I love you” in any of them—but he doesn’t have to. I hear it in every word. Every time he says my name.

And I can’t help but wonder how this all happened? how did

we get here? And can we ever go back?

I don’t cry. There just aren’t any tears left. I curl up in the

middle of my bed. And Drew’s voice lulls me to sleep.

The next afternoon, Billy and I are in the back room of the diner, sharing a plate of fries. he’s working on a new song and he thinks better on his feet.

See him there? Walking from one end of the room to the other,

mumbling and humming, and occasionally strumming the guitar

strapped across his chest?

I sit at the table. Trying to think my way out of the pit of

despair that is now my life.

As Billy crosses toward the door that leads to the diner, some-

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thing catches his eye in the round window at the top. And he backs away. “Oh, shit.”

I look up. “What? What’s wrong?”

Then the door bursts open. It slams against the wall and then

stays in place—afraid to move an inch. Because there, standing in

the doorway in all her pissed-off glory, is my best friend.

Delores Warren.

Oh, shit indeedy.

She’s wearing red knee-high leather boots, tight black pants,

an embellished black top, and a short, black-and-white faux fur

jacket. A myriad of Louis Vuitton bags hang off her shoulders,

matching the large wheeled one trailing behind her.

And the anger in her amber eyes makes them sparkle like fresh-

cut topaz stones . “Does someone want to tell me why I had to hear from
my mother
that there was a Three Musketeers’ reunion going on in Greenville that I wasn’t invited to?”

She stomps forward. Billy moves behind my chair, using me

like a human shield.

“Or better yet—would anyone like to explain why my best

friend took off from New York like a bat out of hell, leaving behind a shit storm that makes Sandy look like an April-fucking-shower—

and I have no idea why?!”

She takes another step forward and drops her bags to the floor.

Then she snaps her head to the right—in the direction of the perky blond teenager standing next to the lockers.

That’s Kimberly. She’s a waitress here. Works after school. She’s

seems nice.

And at the moment—terrified.

“hey, Gidget, how about you make yourself useful and get me

a Diet Coke? Don’t scrimp on the ice.”

Kimberly flees the room
.

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Lucky girl.

Delores points at me and yells, like Jack Nicholson in
A Few

Good Men,
“Well?! You can’t keep me out of the loop, Kate.
I am
the loop!”

My voice comes out meek. Repentant. If you’re ever in the

attack range of an angry she-wolf, lay down and play dead. It’ll go easier that way.

“I didn’t want to ruin your vacation.”

Delores snorts, “If only Queen Bee-atch Alexandra had been

so thoughtful. She called us twenty times at the hotel—freaking

out about how we had to come home because Drew needed a sui-

cide watch.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s exaggerating.”

“I thought so too. Until I saw the Dark Prince myself. Wasn’t

pretty.”

I take the news like a newborn bird to a worm, greedy for

more. “You saw Drew? What did he say? Did he ask about me?”

“he really wasn’t capable of coherent speech at the time.

Mostly just mumbled like the village idiot he is. Jack was carrying him. Apparently Dickwad is making quite the dent in the bar scene

these days, and Jack’s been watching his back. Which is frightening in and of itself, considering Jack is poised for the Slutman of the Year award.”

Drew has been going out. To the bars. With Jack O’Shay. You

remember the last time Drew went out with Jack, don’t you? Taxi

girl?

So this is how it feels to get stabbed with an ice pick—right in

the heart.

Billy’s voice is sarcastic, drawing her fire away from me. “hey,

Delores, it’s good to see you too. I’m great, thanks for asking. The album? Doin’ awesome—triple platinum. California? Fabulous,

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couldn’t be happier. Again . . .” he cups his hands around his

mouth, megaphone style, “. . . thanks for asking.”

Delores’s eyes zero in on him, looking him over head to toe.

Not happy with what she sees. “It’s called a razor; you should get one. If ancient man could figure it out, you’ve got a slim chance.

Oh—and Pearl Jam called. They want their flannel back.”

Billy’s brows go up. “You’re criticizing my style? Really, Cru-

ella? how many puppies had to die so you could wear that coat?”

“Eat shit.”

“Cooking again, are you? I thought the health department

banned you for life the last time you tried?”

Delores opens her mouth for a rebuttal, but nothing comes

out. her glossy lips stretch slowly into a smile. “I’ve missed you, Jackass.”

Billy winks. “Right back at you, cuz.”

he sits in the chair beside me and Delores collapses in the

other one. “Okay, Lucy. Fuckin’ splain.”

I take a big breath. “I’m pregnant.”

At first, Delores doesn’t say a word. Then she makes the sign

of the cross. “The Antichrist has spawned? For fuck’s sake, we have to hose you down with holy water or something. have the Four

horsemen arrived yet?”

Kimberly comes back with a big glass of soda. She puts it down

in front of Delores, then scurries away.

Delores takes a long sip. “So you’re unexpectedly knocked up—

congratulations. happens to the best of us. What’s the problem?”

I stare down at the table. “Drew doesn’t want the baby.”

As you already know, my best friend is not a fan of Drew’s.

When it comes to him, she
always
assumes the worst.
Always.
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eases. I expect her to join me in another round of the naughty

name-calling game.

But she doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead—she laughs.

“What are you talking about? Of course he wants the baby.

Drew Evans
not
wanting a mini-him running around? That’s like saying Matthew doesn’t want a blow job when we’re stuck in traffic.

Just ridiculous.”

Needless to say, I’m surprised. “Why do you think that?”

She shrugs. “A conversation we had once. Plus, he and Mack-

enzie—they’re like Master Blaster from
Mad Max Beyond Thun-

derdome
. Tell me exactly what he said to you. Sometimes guys talk out their asses, and you have to wade through the shit to figure out what they really mean.”

“Oh, he was pretty clear. his exact words were ‘End it.’ And of

course the stripper he was making out with at the time really drove the point home,” I say bitterly.

Delores points at me. And now she looks pissed. “That, I

believe. Fucking prick.” She holds her hands up. “But it’s okay.

Don’t panic. I’ll take care of everything. We have this new fuel at the lab that’s ready for animal testing. he won’t know what hit

him—I can slip it right through the vents.”

She turns to Billy. “You’re in charge of the garden hose and

duct tape.” Then she looks at me. “I’ll need your keys and security code.”

I shake my head. “Delores, you can’t gas Drew to death.”

“It might not kill him. If I had to guess, I’d say the odds for

survival are fifty-fifty.”

“Delores . . .”

“Okay, thirty-seventy. But still, that gives us plausible deni-

ability.”

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My mother and George walk into the room, interrupting the

diabolical plan. My mom hugs Dee Dee tight. “hi, honey! It’s so

good to see you. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” She looks at George. “hey George, how they hang-

ing?”

I think George Reinhart is a little afraid of Delores.

Maybe more than a little.

he adjusts his glasses. “They’re . . . hanging well . . . thank

you.”

My mother coos, “Look at the three of you. here, all together

again, just like old times.”

Delores grins. “Frightening, isn’t it?”

My mother takes George’s hand. “We’ll go cook you kids

something for lunch.”

They leave, and Delores rubs her hands together like the mad

scientist she is. “Now, back to the gas chamber . . .”

I cut her off. “Delores—I don’t think I’m going to have it.”

All traces of humor leave her face. She thinks for a moment.

Looks thoughtful, but nonjudgmental. When she speaks, her voice

is serious. But kind.

“I’ll support you a hundred and fifty percent, Kate; you know

that. But because I know you, I’m gonna say this: If you decide to do this? Make sure it’s for you—because it’s what
you
want to do. If you’re doing it because you think it’s what Drew wants, or as some warped attempt to work things out with him? Don’t. You’ll just end up hating yourself for it—and resenting him.”

You can’t bullshit best friends. And sometimes that’s a dou-

ble-edged sword—because it means they won’t let you bullshit

yourself.

“I haven’t decided anything for sure. Not yet.”

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Delores’s phone goes off in her purse, and the sound of Akon’s

Sexy Bitch
fills the air. While she digs into her bag, she asks Billy,

“Could you bring my luggage up to Kate’s room? I’m gonna crash

here tonight.”

“Do I look like a fucking bellboy?”

Delores doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you look like a homeless per-

son. But I don’t have a windshield for you to spit on. So be a good little vagrant and take my bags upstairs—then maybe I’ll throw a

dollar at you.”

With a grin, Billy goes to do it. Still, he complains, “This was

so
much more fun when she wasn’t here.”

Delores looks at her phone. “Ugg—it’s Matthew. I swear, that

boy can’t take a shit without calling to tell me what color it is.” She walks through the back door to take the call outside.

And Billy looks at me. “Okay, I’m a guy—and even I thought

that was gross.”

Can’t say I disagree with him.

A few minutes later, Delores tears back into the room. Still on the phone and going off like a cherry bomb. “Of all the ignorant, balls-out shitty things to say . . . by the time I’m done with you, they’re going to have to reinstate your V card, buddy!”

She punches the OFF button on her cell much harder than nec-

essary.

“Problem?”

“Yes. The problem is, people are what’s between your legs—

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which explains why my husband is behaving like a big, fat, uncir-

cumcised dick!”