Almost Beautiful, page 19
We were happily baking our skin in the furthest corner of the fenced-in pool that was nestled in the center of my apartment complex.
Water splashed, and America snarled, raising her head to glare at the misfits we shared the space with.
“Mare,” I warned.
“Just let me yell at them once. Just once.”
“Then they’ll make a game of it. Those are Marsha Becker’s boys. She lets them run all over the property like heathens, and then yells at people for having the audacity to try to parent them. Just let it go. The water feels nice once in a while, anyway.”
“Until you realize they’ve pissed in that water,” she muttered, resituating her large, square sunglasses.
I chuckled, looking over at my best friend.
Her profile was flawless, her lip gloss glistening on her pouty lips, set just below her perfect pixie nose and above her divinely bestowed, softly defined jaw. She could have been a model or actress in L.A. had she not followed me to Eastern State. She could’ve been anything.
I looked over at her, wondering if she’d decided what that would be. So far, her answer had been, Who knows?
“So, Trent’s going to be okay. That’s a relief,” she said. “I know Shep’s parents went to visit him today. I think Jim was really worried.”
“Yeah, he’s good at hiding it.”
“Must be why you get along with him so well,” she said with smirk. “Congrats on the thing with that teacher, by the way. The internship or whatever. I’m so proud of you. You worked really hard for that.”
I smiled, feeling uncharacteristically affectionate. “Mare, do you remember when we met?” I asked. “I mean the first day.”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked at me over her glasses. “How could I forget? You were this confident yet mousy, lost, sweet, jaded, and jilted thing. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you. The first day of junior year.”
I turned onto my stomach, smiling at her. “You didn’t love me. It was just a crush.”
“No, it was love. True love,” she said, settling her head back against her lounger. “I purposely picked the seat next to yours and asked you to come hangout at my house within the first five minutes. You came to dinner and you never left. For the most part. I’m so glad we finally talked you into moving in. Even if it did take until the last three months of senior year.”
“Your parents were awesome. My mom was …”
“A drunk.” Her smiled faded. “Have you talked to her?”
I shook my head. “She wouldn’t even know I’m married if it wasn’t for Benny. I wouldn’t know that she knew it wasn’t for Jesse. How messed up is that?”
“Has he called?”
“Jesse?”
“Mick.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Travis might kill him if he did, and you know Mick. Forever the coward.”
America stared at the pool. “Travis will have to get in line. You know what I was wondering about the other day? You and Travis getting married in Vegas.”
I tried to keep my face smooth, dreading the moment I’d have to remind her it was better if she didn’t fully know the truth.
America knew we were at the fight, and knew we’d run off to Vegas, but she could still play dumb if questioned by the Feds, and I wanted to keep her as far away from our mess as possible.
“Did you happen to run into Jesse?” she asked.
Her question took me off guard. Jesse hadn’t crossed my mind since he’d showed up with Benny’s offer to help Travis. “What made you ask that?”
“I don’t know. It just popped into my mind and I envisioned him seeing you in your wedding dress and throwing up.”
“Throwing up?” I sat up on my knees.
I pulled my hair to the side, combing it through with my fingers before weaving it into a side braid. Even then, the ends hung past my breast. It was getting longer and lighter in the summer sun, a blonder version of my normally caramel strands. I wasn’t model-esque like America, but I’d landed Travis Maddox. My looks clearly weren’t vomit-inducing, especially not on my wedding day.
“I feel like I should be offended.”
“No, stupid,” she laughed. “Throw up as in him being sick over you marrying someone else. He was fully convinced, until the day you left Vegas, that you two were getting married. And by the text messages for almost a year after, I’d say he hung on to that for a while. Do you think that has anything to do with why … why he started working for Benny?”
“Nice titties,” one of the Becker boys said, raising his eyebrows at me before running away and jumping into the pool. By the giggling and high fives, I imagined he’d been dared.
America opened her mouth, but I gestured for her not to speak.
“Just don’t,” I said. “And I know what Jesse thought. But no, I didn’t see him. And even if for some crazy reason he started working for Benny because he was heartbroken and thought being a made man would somehow prove himself, not my problem. He knows I would want the exact opposite of that.”
“Yeah, maybe it’s something else. It’s probably something else. I’m surprised he let you stay to win back that money for Mick. I figured he would have hated you.”
“He probably does.”
America stretched, letting her head fall back. “Oh, well. Not like I would’ve gotten to see that drama unfold, anyway.”
I craned my neck, glaring at her.
“What? He drove all the way to Wichita to see you. You didn’t even let him down easy. Even my parents were appalled.”
I closed my eyes, trying to keep the memory from forming in my mind. “Do we have to talk about it?”
“He just … I don’t know, didn’t look like himself. All that soft, sweetness in his eyes … gone.”
I frowned, watching Marsha Becker’s delinquents push unsuspecting little girls into the pool.
Jesse was in love with me, and I’d tried for a long time to be in love with him. Jesse was a safe place to fall when my mother was drunk, and Mick was on one of his benders. He was always kind and soft-spoken, thoughtful and affectionate.
It wasn’t until I married Travis that I realized why I’d found it impossible to love Jesse. I was meant to be Mrs. Maddox. And America was right, whatever had happened to him since high school, he wasn’t the same person anymore.
“Do you wonder what Travis and Shep would be doing right now if we hadn’t moved to Eakins?” I asked.
“I don’t wonder, I know. Shepley would be at your apartment—except it would still be his apartment—and Travis would be in jail like Adam.”
“Don’t say that,” I said, disgusted.
“He would have gone to that fight. Keaton Hall would have caught on fire …”
“Adam was trying to keep a low profile because the fight had already been rolled once. They used the lanterns to not draw attention because the cops showed up at the last one. The cops came because a fight broke out, the fight broke out because that douche attacked me. If we hadn’t come, maybe the fire would have never happened.”
America arched an eyebrow. “Abby, if they weren’t conducting illegal fights in old buildings with too many people and just a few exits, no one would have been there to start the fire. No one would have been there to die. We all make our choices. And don’t let Travis hear you talking like that. He feels guilty enough without you blaming yourself.”
“I’m not talking to Travis about it. That’s why I’m talking to my best friend.”
“And your best friend is telling you you’re being a dumb bitch. Quit it. Anyway, we didn’t meet here to talk about the fire or Jesse or throwing up. We’re talking about your wedding.”
“Hey blondie, wanna come sit on my lap?” a Becker boy yelled.
America lifted her fist and proudly displayed her middle finger.
“Mare!” I scolded.
She smiled with her fist still in the air, then put it down, satisfied.
I climbed onto my stomach again, trying not to slip from all the oil and sweat. “Please, no wedding talk today.”
“We’ve already talked about everything else, school, plans, my date with Shep, Lexi’s pregnancy scare, and your in-depth conversation with Travis about his boss and how it would be best for everyone if you avoided him. Now, we can talk about the wedding.”
“I told you we could do it. But this is for you. I don’t want another wedding, remember?”
America pulled a notebook and pen out of her pool bag. “So, I was thinking St. Thomas. Why, you ask? Because we don’t need passports, it’s beautiful, not your average destination wedding, and the Ritz-Carlton has a beautiful venue with a wedding package.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
America made a check next to her scribbles and then dropped the pen on her mid-section, clapping. “I was hoping you’d say yes! It’s going to be perfect! Okay. Second question. Colors. I was thinking aqua, coral, pink, sea foam, and cream. Or we can go a little bolder and do purple and orange, but I prefer the first swatch.”
“First swatch it is.”
“Really? Because the orange and purple with the sand and ocean …”
“That’s fine.”
She clapped again. “Obviously, I’m the maid of honor. I would suggest Finch, but his dad’s birthday is the same day, you know.”
“Kara … Cami …”
“Excuse me?” America said, her face screwing into disgust. “Cami I get but … Kara?”
“She went through a lot when we were roommates. And she sent me a card. It was sweet. We had lunch; it was nice.”
America looked like she’d smelled something rancid.
“Kara,” I said, pointing to her notebook. “Put her down.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“I’d tap that,” a Becker boy yelled. “Twice.”
America sucked in a breath through her nose, desperately trying to ignore them.
“Now, for the reception. The Ritz has a great outdoor restaurant called Sails. There are these huge tarps they pull out that function as a ceiling. And because it’s the Caribbean it tends to rain, so they can roll down the sides like a tent enclosure to protect us from any passing showers. We could also move the wedding ceremony there if needed.”
“Great.”
She squealed. “I know you’re not into this, Abby, but it’s going to be beautiful, we’ll all get to be there, and I’m going to be a gorgeous maid of honor.”
“Yes, you will.”
“One last thing,” she said, serious. “The date.”
“I assume you have one chosen.”
“Well, it just made sense to me to do it on your first anniversary. It falls on spring break next year, but it’s on a Sunday so we’d miss at least the first day back to classes after break.”
I tried not to smile but failed. Our first anniversary had seemed so far away until that very second. I would be married to Travis Maddox for an entire year, and then we’d start on our second.
“What? You’re making a weird face.”
I laughed once, looking down. “I just … love him.”
“March twenty-first, then?” she asked, putting the notebook away.
“March twenty-first.”
One of the bigger Becker boys jumped into the pool holding his knees to his chest, sending a wall of water over America and me. We both gasped, sitting up with our mouths open.
“Mare!” I said too late.
She stood, beach bag in hand, dripping wet while she slid her bare feet into her shoes. “You little shits! The best parts of you ran down your momma’s leg!”
Everyone in the pool froze, staring at us.
“Oh, hell,” I said, gathering my things and sliding on my cut-off jean shorts. “Let’s go before Marsha hears about what you said.”
“I hope she hears it!” America screeched. “Someone needs to tell her! Her kids are little beasts! You’re vile!” she yelled, stomping out of the gate toward my apartment. “Tell your mom the community pool is not a fucking babysitter!” She pointed at one. “And you need a haircut!” She pointed at another. “And you need braces! Jesus Christ, I would be embarrassed if I had this herd of obnoxious brats for children! You know why your mother’s not here with you? Because she’s sitting at home, hiding from society, humiliated at the horrible job she’s done!”
“Oh my fuck, America, you’ve lost your mind. Walk. Walk!” I commanded.
The Becker boys cackled, overjoyed at America’s reaction.
“I will have daughters and they will be well-mannered!” she said, pointing in all directions. She looked insane.
“You just jinxed yourself,” I said, walking with her to my apartment. “Now you’re destined to have a bunch of rowdy, repugnant boys.”
“No, I won’t. Twin girls in pristine white dresses, who will slap the shit out of boys like the Beckers.”
Finch stepped out from between buildings, wearing all-white that practically glowed in the hot summer sun. “Ladies, you’re looking … sweaty. And flushed.”
America opened her arms wide. “You look like you need a hug.”
He lowered his sunglasses to look her up and down, unimpressed. “This is Gucci. Don’t you dare.” He replaced his glasses. “Abby, can I see you in my office?” He gestured to where he’d walked from. “Alone?”
I could tell America was trying very hard not to be offended, but her expression gave her away.
“It’s uh … something you shouldn’t hear.”
“So Finch can know but I can’t?”
“He doesn’t know anything. I just had him talk to Adam for Travis.”
“So why am I being dismissed? You know I would never repeat anything.”
I glanced around. “It’s not about that, Mare. I’m trying to protect you.”
“But not Finch?” she asked, unconvinced.
“Like I said, he doesn’t know anything, and it’s better this way. Please trust me.”
Her lips formed a hard line. “Fine. I’ll wait for you at the apartment. But,” she spoke softly and leaned in, lowering her sunglasses, “you were in the basement, Abby. And that terrifies me. Have you even talked to anyone about it? That had to have affected you.”
“You know I can’t.”
“What about patient/doctor privilege?”
“If there’s a crime committed, they have to report. I’ve talked to Travis, but I love you for caring about me,” I said.
America replaced her glasses on the bridge of her nose and turned on her heels, walking toward my building. The farther away she walked, the guiltier I felt.
I followed Finch under a shade tree. Beads of sweat were already forming at his hairline.
“I love how we all act like we don’t know what going on, but we all know what’s going on and we pretend we don’t all know that we all know what’s going on,” he said, nearly giddy.
“You don’t know, Finch. Not really. What did Adam say?”
“It’s all set. When and where you requested. He’s on board.”
“And how did he act about it? Nervous?”
“Very, but he did tell me to tell you something.”
“What?”
“That he’s got Mad Dog’s back.”
I thought about that. “Do you believe him?”
“I do,” he said, standing tall. “He seemed kind of relieved.”
I nodded. “And no one overheard you? No one was around? You left your cellphones out of ear shot?”
“Done, done, and done, baby. I was out there doing the Lord’s work and wasn’t about to fuck up. Now what?”
I kissed his cheek. “Nothing. You did good. Thank you so much.”
“Really? That’s it? But I’m so good at this!” he called to me as I walked away.
America was sitting on the bottom step when I arrived back at the apartment. She was picking her nails, her sunglasses hanging low on her nose.
“Please don’t be mad. I know that was hurtful, I’m sorry. I really …” I looked up to the apartment.
America held her finger to her lips briefly before speaking, “It’s fine. Really. I understand, I promise. We don’t need to talk about it.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We walked upstairs, and I unlocked the door and then closed it behind America. She sat on the couch, already engrossed in her phone while I put down my bag, sunglasses, and keys on the breakfast bar.
I kicked off my sandals and padded into the kitchen, wondering what to thaw for dinner. The house was clean, the laundry caught up. The only thing to do was cook. I looked at the clock hanging in the kitchen. Travis would be home in the next hour, and—
“Pigeon?” Travis called as he opened the door. He tossed his keys next to mine and nodded to America. When he saw me, he beamed. “Hey, Pidge.”
“Hey,” I said, grinning as he strode into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me. His whiskers scuffed against my shoulder when he hugged me, but I didn’t care. I just didn’t want him to let go.
He stood taller, just enough to steal a few tiny kisses.
America groaned and stood. “That’s my cue. Call me later. I’m driving to Wichita in the morning.”
“No,” I whined, walking over to her. “Can’t you just stay here?”
“Mark and Pam are not that cool,” she said, jutting out her lip. “Dad’s still afraid if I spend too much time with Shep, I’ll end up eloping.”
“Can’t imagine where they’d get that idea,” Travis said, kissing my cheek before opening the freezer. He pulled out a package of chicken breasts and tossed them into the sink. “They should come up. See that Abby isn’t miserable. She’s actually pretty damn happy. I make sure of it.”
He winked at me, and I tried to calm the butterflies exploding in my stomach. I thought that might’ve gone away after a while, but every time it happened, I prayed it never would.
“They still don’t want me getting married before graduation. Neither do I, but Wichita sucks. And I’ll miss Shep. And you guys, I guess.”
I took the few steps over to her and pinched her side. She squealed and laughed out loud. I couldn’t help but giggle.
