The shower had done wonders. And the huge dollop of vanilla ice cream I was currently dumping into my hot chocolate would do a lot more. The power had gone out just as I went to blow dry my hair. So now Jazz and I were sitting in the dark living room in front of the crackling fireplace on a blanket eating all the available ice cream before it melted. My wet hair was scraped back, and I wore my most favorite flannel pajama pants in pink tartan and a black tight t-shirt with a huge skull across the front.
I loved Jack Eversea. I really did. Not Max, but the actual guy. This was really shitty. Maybe it was the way he took my nervously barbed insults with such amusement, or maybe it was the fact we traded movie quotes perfectly, or maybe because he was so damned hot ... except I liked to think I was a little less shallow than that. But for the sake of honesty, it was fairly clear even Mother Theresa would have gotten a twinkle in her eye when it came to Jack. Or perhaps, it was that I ... saw him. The frightened and lonely boy who had put himself in the limelight with a fierce passion for his craft, despite the fact he could have hidden in shadows after whatever it was his mother had run from. I wasn’t a child psychologist, and I didn’t know for sure what he or she had endured, but I knew whatever had happened would have crippled most people with a life long fear.
But he was flawed. Majorly flawed. Not flawed enough for me not to love him, but flawed enough I would be staying away. Very far away.
He didn’t have the kind of bravery I needed if he was willing to lie to his girlfriend and keep a relationship alive for the sake of his career, if that was truly what was going on. And if it wasn’t—he had lied to me.
I handed the tub of vanilla back to Jazz. “I really wanted him to deny it, Jazz. He should’ve seen the text and realized why I was upset and denied it. He should’ve told me it was a big mistake. Except it wasn’t, was it?” I wasn’t sure why I was stating the obvious.
“I know, hon. I’m sorry.”
I took a long sip of rich hot chocolate and cool vanilla ice cream. “Do you have any magazines in your car still?” She literally couldn’t buy a pack of gum without buying a tabloid magazine, too. I would bet the last scoop of Turtle Tracks she had picked up the latest one tonight while buying the tequila.
She nodded. “But I ain’t going out there to get ‘em.”
Another rumble of thunder punctuated her words.
“Never mind. It was a dumb idea and will only prolong the agony. I just realized I’ve never really paid much attention to his life, and it’s all out there.” I thought of how private he claimed to be, and the secret he’d shared with me. “Well, most of it. The public stuff anyway.”
“Yeah, don’t start getting masochistic. This is a worst case scenario for a break up to have all that tantalizing information out there.”
“Break up?” I snorted. “Apparently, we were never together.”
“The only things I do know are that people are still wondering where he is, and Audrey put out a public statement.”
“Really? What did it say?” I hated my weakness, but I was curious.
“Something along the lines of how sorry she was, and that it was a momentary indiscretion, and that she loved and respected him deeply etcetera, etcetera. But I am assuming she put out a public statement because she doesn’t know where he is either.”
I mulled that over a second before another thought occurred to me. “Dare I ask what the book is for book club tomorrow? I’m assuming the reason you forgot to tell me is because I’ve read it already?” I rubbed my temples at the tequila headache slowly coming on.
Jazz grimaced. “Yes, well the older ladies hadn’t read them yet ... and with the movie coming out soon ...” She trailed off.
Tomorrow would suck. “Look, it’s not like you knew we would actually meet the guy when you picked them, so don’t worry about it,” I said, instantly forgiving her.
“Yeah, but at this stage I wish we were reading Anna Karenina.”
“Me too.”
Jazz let out a huge yawn. “Wow, margaritas plus ice cream. I am going into a carb coma.”
I yawned too, and then we both jumped at the sudden pounding on the front door.
“Shit, who’s that?” Jazz said. “Should we get it?”
My heart lurched from the sudden fright. “It could be Mrs. Weaton, perhaps they didn’t fix her roof properly today.” Or not. Jazz grabbed a poker from the fireplace, and we both skidded on sock feet to the front door. I looked out of the peephole, but with no lights on I couldn’t really see a thing.
“I can’t see anything,” I whispered, and then jumped back as another round of banging started.
“Keri Ann?” Jack’s voice shouted over the wind and rain.
“Oh my God.” I mouthed to Jazz.
Her eyes were wide.
“Do you think he got my message?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” she whispered back, her shoulders hunching up.
“Keri Ann? Please ... please open the door. I really need to talk to you.”
What the heck was he doing out there in the rain? Obviously, I was going to have to let him in. I could feel mortification and it’s crimson tide crawling up my chest to my neck.
Jazz shrugged with an apologetic ‘this is your mess, I have no clue how to help you here’ look on her face.
“Thanks!” I hissed at her.
“Keri Ann! Open the Goddamn door ... please?” Jack’s voice broke over the last word and my shoulders slumped.