This time Benton, the eighty-year-old cashier, eyed me and shook his head slightly. “Miss Mia, you know it’s ten a.m.?” I nodded. “You’re too young to be so unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy. I’m concerned about the economy in the village. I figure consumerism is the key, right?” I said it with a ridiculous amount of glee.
He rang me up and took my money, still shaking his head; I don’t think be bought my story.
Once again I stood outside and pounded back the tequila on the street, which I’m pretty sure is illegal. When I got back to the café, I told Jenny to zip it about my mother and then I went about my day. At dinner I insisted on ordering salads from Sam’s to offset the chocolate bars and tequila. We closed Kell’s early to eat our salads in the back. I told Jenny I’d had an awful morning, but left out the details about Robert. She assured me we would have a fun weekend in South Hampton. When I told her I felt bad for leaving Jackson, she suggested that I bring him.
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“Not at all, I love that pooch. I had to park my dad’s Jeep a couple of blocks away, so I’ll go run and grab it, you can get Jackson, and I’ll meet you on the street in fifteen minutes?”
“Perfect.” I took two steps at a time leaping up the stairs to my apartment.
When I opened the door, Jackson greeted me. All the lights were on, the stereo was blaring and the shower was running. I needed to tell Will that I was taking Jackson. We had gotten used to walking into the bathroom while the other person was in the shower, so I opened the door and froze. Through the frosted curtain I saw, not to mention heard, what could have only been Will fucking a girl in our shower. I quickly sucked in a breath of air, inadvertently making a squeaking noise. The motion and sound behind the curtain immediately stopped.
“Sorry!” I yelled and then backed out and shut the door. My heart was in my throat. I tried to calm myself and prevent any more water from gathering in my eyes. I clenched my jaw and stood paralyzed in the hall. When I heard them shuffling around, I turned and abruptly headed for the kitchen.
The bathroom door opened as I walked away. “Mia?” he said in a low voice behind me.
Don’t turn around, don’t cry!
I reached the kitchen counter just as the lead singer of the Black Keys began chanting something about a psychotic girl. For some reason that song reminded me of the movie Deliverance. I promised myself there would be no murder in the apartment that night. I was too crushed to do anything and… I had no right. I greeted him with a huge smile. “Hi, Will! I’ve had a fucked up day!” I said cheerily as a rogue tear spilt from my eye. I looked away and concentrated on putting Jackson’s food in a bag.
Will put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him. I kept my head down, defeated. “I’m sorry, Mia. I’m sorry you had to walk in on that. I thought you were… going…” He couldn’t finish his thought; he just lifted my chin and searched my eyes until I was sure he saw the hurt in them.
I swallowed the lump back and held my head up. “Yes… I am going… to the Hamptons. I just decided that I wanted to take Jackson, so here I am… picking up Jackson… and there you are… in a towel… postcoital… interestingly enough… time to go… it’s time to go.” I stumbled over every ridiculous word with watery eyes and a smile.
When I turned to walk out he grabbed my arm and stepped toward me with a pitying look on his face. We were mere inches apart. I fixed my gaze on the Soul Captain tattoo over his heart. I couldn’t look up at him. He hesitated and then in a low voice said, “I want you to meet Audrey.”
I took a deep, cleansing breath. “How long have you been dating her?” I whispered.
“Two weeks, but I’ve known her a while.”
I nodded and smiled. He was so sweet, so easily in love, and he wanted to share it with me.
“Please, Mia, I like her and I care what you think.”
“Okay,” I said. And then, as if on cue, Audrey came into my peripheral vision. She was gorgeous, a couple of inches taller than me with long, golden-brown hair. She had an all-American girl look about her with her cutoff jean shorts and long, tan legs. She was wearing one of Will’s old Ramones T-shirts. I appraised her, hoping to find a flaw, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t find one blemish; she even had perfect feet and pretty toes. So then I hoped that she would be really dumb or shallow or conceited or mean. Any of those would do.