The Dirty Truth, page 16
Lexi reaches for Scarlett’s hair, dragging her fingers through a strand before tucking it behind her ear.
“You look so much older since I last saw you,” Lexi says in a bittersweet yet proud tone. “Getting so pretty too.”
Lexi’s driver shifts his car into park before crossing his arms and making no effort to hide his impatient annoyance at having to wait.
“Should we go somewhere and catch up?” I ask. “We’re staying at the Best Western. We were just talking about ordering in tonight, maybe watching a movie. You should join us.”
The light in Lexi’s eyes fades a shade, and her attention weaves from Scarlett to me and back. I don’t mean to make her feel like a third wheel, but I can’t let the two of them go anywhere alone together. I promised West.
“Lex, hurry up. I’m fucking starving,” her driver says. “Wrap it up.”
Scarlett takes a step closer to her mom, threading her fingers with hers. “You’re going with us, right, Mama?”
Lexi turns toward the douche in the car. “It’s my kid. She’s only here for the weekend.”
The man grits his teeth before pounding his steering wheel. “Not my problem, Lex.”
My heart hammers hard in my chest as my surroundings grow murky. Everything inside of me wants to call Lexi out for not making Scarlett a priority, and everything else inside of me wants to go animal on this douche for making her choose between him and her own flesh and blood.
But it’s not my place.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett.” Lexi’s soulful eyes lock onto her daughter’s. “Jared and I are going through a little bit of a rough patch right now . . . if I don’t go with him, it’ll probably be the end of the road for us. And he’s letting me crash with him, so that’s a whole thing.”
My jaw falls.
“Mama . . .” Scarlett’s voice breaks. “Don’t do this . . .”
Taking a step closer, I start to interject before stopping myself, lips pressed together so tight they burn with all the things I want to say to this woman.
“Maybe we can get breakfast tomorrow?” Lexi asks. “Jared goes to work tonight, and I’m picking him up in the morning when he gets off. I could meet you guys somewhere before that?”
“Since when do you get up before noon on a Saturday?” Scarlett teases her.
“Jared’s been good for me,” Lexi says with a girlish chuckle as she tosses a smirk his way. Releasing her daughter’s hand, she fusses with her thin blonde hair, sweeping it into a messy bun and securing it with a leopard-print scrunchie.
“Our time here is limited,” I say.
Jared revs his engine before cranking his classic-rock radio station so loud we have to shout to hear one another.
“I’m sorry, Scar.” Lexi cups her daughter’s face in her hands before leaning in and kissing her forehead. “Tomorrow at seven. Let’s meet at Joe’s Café on the square. You can tell me all about New York and everything then, okay?”
With that, Lexi climbs back into Jared’s mustard-yellow El Camino, leaving us in a trail of exhaust.
“I’m so sorry, Scarlett,” I say.
She sniffs before grabbing her suitcase. “For what?”
I try to find the right response, only it escapes me. I can’t relate to her situation—not even close. My mother is the opposite of hers in every aspect of the word.
We check into the hotel a few minutes later, settling into our two-queen room. When Scarlett heads to the bathroom to change for the pool, I take a second to text West.
If anyone can salvage this, it’s Superman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
WEST
“Mr. Maxwell.” Stanford, the gray-eyed bartender at the Winslow Hotel, places a linen cocktail napkin before me. “Long time no see. Will we be having the usual tonight?”
I glance around the half-filled room, giving him a tight nod. It’s been months since I’ve set foot into civilization on a Friday night.
He drops a rounded ice cube into a crystal tumbler before pouring two fingers of Macallan single malt.
“Thank you.” I take a sip and settle in, trying not to think about what’s currently taking place thousands of miles from here. While I trust Elle to have Scarlett’s best interests at heart and to keep a close watch on her, there’s no guarantee Scarlett won’t see her mother and suddenly grow a wild hair.
Granted, she’s been on her best behavior all week, and I’ve been making an effort to use positive reinforcement over verbal lashings.
But anything could happen.
I’m halfway finished with my drink when my phone buzzes in my jacket. Sliding it from the interior pocket, I’m met with a text from Elle that makes my heart stop short for a second.
ELLE: You weren’t wrong about Lexi.
A longer text follows.
ELLE: She wasn’t home when we got there, but we ran into her on the way to the hotel. She ditched Scarlett for her boyfriend, but told her she’d meet up with her in the morning for breakfast. Our girl is crushed.
Our girl.
ELLE: She’s wanting to catch up with her friends, but she doesn’t have anyone’s numbers since they’re in her old phone . . . any chance you might still have that somewhere?
I drag a hard breath into my tight chest, rapping my fingers against the wood bar top. I have her old phone in a drawer in my home office somewhere. The battery is surely dead by now.
ELLE: I told her we could get pizza and watch a movie at the hotel, but I know she’s absolutely crushed. She was so looking forward to this . . .
Elle’s right.
When I sprang the surprise trip on Scarlett this morning, I’d never seen her blue eyes so lit. Every part of her came to life, and she hugged me.
She’s never hugged me.
While I’m not thrilled with the idea of Scarlett meeting up with her ragtag group of Whitebridge friends, this was part of the deal. And as long as Elle is there to supervise, I’ll allow it. Besides, she deserves a distraction from the pain of being ditched by her own mother.
ME: I’ll be home in an hour. I’ll see what I can dig up.
ELLE: Thank you so much, West. I knew you’d come through.
I finish my drink and return home to an empty, quiet apartment to follow through with my promise. There isn’t a fiber of my soul that longs to be in Whitebridge, Nebraska—but the smallest part of me can’t help but wonder if I’m missing out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ELLE
The hotel room is filled with the scent of delivery pizza and the sound of giggling teenage girls. Earlier tonight, West came through for Scarlett, sending me a handful of phone numbers he found in her old phone. She managed to get ahold of two friends—Katie and Mackenzie—and we invited them over for a girls’ night.
Settled in with a book on the balcony, I’m doing my best to give them space while also leaving the sliding door cracked enough to hear what’s going on.
So far they’ve discussed a pregnant classmate, a beloved gym teacher who passed in a car accident last month, and Katie’s psychotic stepmom (among other things). While Katie wears far too much makeup for a girl her age and Mackenzie’s wardrobe choices leave little to the imagination, they don’t seem nearly as awful as West made them out to be.
“Hey, I just got a text from Clay Briggs,” one of the girls says.
I glance up from my book, ears perked.
“He says we should come over after ten. His mom goes to work then, and he’ll have the whole house to himself,” she adds. “And his older brother said he’d get some . . . stuff.”
Ugh.
“Oh my God. Let’s do it. My parents think I’m staying at your place tonight. Just tell them you’re staying at mine,” the other girl says. “Scarlett, you’re so coming with us!”
I brace myself for Scarlett’s answer.
“Yes, you have to!” the first girl says.
I steal a glimpse from the corner of my eye, watching the girls bounce on the bed in premature excitement as they close in on Scarlett. One of the worst things you can do to a teenager is make them feel like they’ll miss out on something epic, and it’s been months since she’s been truly included by anyone her age.
“Scarlett, come onnnnn,” the girls whine in near unison.
Closing my book, I head on in to intervene. If Scarlett tells them no, she’ll incinerate into a pile of humiliated ash and forever be labeled “lame” by her peers.
“Hey, girls.” I offer a soothing smile. “It’s getting a little late, and Scarlett and I have a breakfast date with her mom in the morning.”
Katie and Mackenzie exchange looks before sliding off the bed.
“Maybe you can see each other again tomorrow for a bit?” I walk them to the door and wait as they shuffle and slide into their respective flip-flops and sandals. “We’ll be in town until Sunday afternoon.”
“Yeah, we should hang out again before I go,” Scarlett pipes up.
Katie shrugs.
Mackenzie checks her phone before nudging Katie and whispering something under her breath—probably related to that party.
“Bye, Scarlett,” Katie says as she gets the door.
Mackenzie gives a parting wave.
Neither seems enthused about hanging out with her again. Girls that age can be so fickle and opportunistic. I get the sense that perhaps Scarlett’s return has already lost its novelty and they’d rather keep their Saturday-night options open.
“Thanks for coming, girls,” I say when I show them out. Biting my tongue, I resist the urge to tell them to make good choices. I don’t need to embarrass Scarlett any further.
The heavy door shuts with a slam just as the hotel AC kicks on.
“I know it feels like you’re missing out on—” I begin to say to Scarlett. But before I can finish my words of wisdom, she flicks the bedside lamp off, climbs under the covers, and rolls over.
All right, then.
Grabbing my pajamas, I wash up for bed before doing the same, taking a moment to send a photo of a sleeping Scarlett to her uncle. Something tells me it’ll help him rest a little easier tonight.
My stomach is clenched as we walk through the door of Joe’s Café Saturday morning. I’m almost afraid to scan the little diner for Lexi’s face, because every part of me expects her to be MIA. Only my fears are squashed the instant Scarlett squeals and dashes toward a corner booth where Lexi is waiting, bright eyed and grinning. Hopping up, Lexi greets her daughter with a bear hug before motioning for me to join them.
Sliding into the booth, I slip my purse down my shoulder and marvel at the way the two of them act like nothing happened last night. Lexi’s hair is still shower damp, her clothes smell like they’re fresh out of a dryer, and her lips shine with a coat of lip balm.
“I just can’t get over how grown you look.” Lexi fawns over Scarlett, playing with her hair.
Scarlett pretends to be annoyed, rolling her eyes despite the beaming smile overtaking her mouth.
“Whatever, Mama,” she says. “It’s only been four months. You act like it’s been years.”
“Are you hungry?” Lexi changes the subject before reaching for a couple of menus from behind the napkin rack. She hands one to Scarlett and the other to me. “They’ve got the best blueberry pancakes. Remember those, baby? They were your favorite.”
“Actually, it was the chocolate chip,” Scarlett says.
Lexi chuckles, splaying a hand over her thin décolletage. “Oh my goodness. You’re right. How could I have mixed those up?”
“It’s okay, Mama.” Scarlett rests her head on Lexi’s shoulder for a moment. Side by side, it’d be easy to mistake these two for sisters. Same big blue eyes, same pointed chin, same expressive eyebrows.
A purple-haired waitress with a stained smock ambles up to our table, pulling a pen from behind her ear as she mutters a half-hearted “Good morning, ladies.”
Scarlett orders an orange juice, I request a carafe of coffee, and Lexi gets a Diet Mountain Dew—no ice.
“So how do you know West?” Lexi directs her attention to me. “I don’t think I asked.”
“I used to work for him,” I say.
“Ah. Makes sense.” She chuckles. “I thought maybe you were a girlfriend or something, but you definitely don’t seem like his type.”
I get the impression she’s more honest than catty, that she doesn’t mean any offense. But once a journalist, always a journalist, so I can’t help but use the opportunity to ask a few questions.
“The feeling’s more than mutual,” I say with a wink. West would totally be my type—if my type were the beastly prince from “Beauty and the Beast.” “What is his type anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him with anyone.”
Lexi rolls her eyes, waving her wrist. “Oh, you know. Exotic supermodels. Socialites. Heiresses. The kind of women he doesn’t actually have to have a conversation with because they’re content just to dangle from his arm like an overpriced accessory. The man’s got insane standards. Nothing’s ever good enough. Hell, no one’s ever good enough. It’s why he can’t keep anyone around more than a few months at a time.”
Our waitress delivers our drinks, grabs our orders, and shuffles over to the table behind us.
“Just be glad you’re too normal for him.” Lexi pinches her straw between her thumb and forefinger before taking a generous sip. “God forbid he subjects himself to a real relationship with a real person. Would just about kill him, I bet.” She takes another sip. “But it’s ironic, isn’t it? West desperately needs someone to bring him back down to earth. He’s forgotten his roots. That’s his problem.”
I soak in Lexi’s words, taking mental notes and rearranging everything in my mind to fit the context.
“You seem pretty passionate about West’s dating life.” I rip a packet of sugar and dump it into my coffee before reaching for a creamer pod.
“He’s family.” Lexi shrugs. “Family always has a lot of opinions about family.”
I sniff a laugh, thinking of my mother and sisters. “Amen.”
“It’s just been interesting, watching this small-town nobody become . . .” Squinting, Lexi pauses. “You know, he wasn’t always like this.”
“What was he like before?” I stir in my creamer until my coffee turns a milky-cappuccino shade.
“West was always a little different than the rest of us,” Lexi says. “Quiet but observant. Big dreams. God complex. Was always wanting more and better for himself. And for Will, too, but that’s a whole ’nother story. Guess it’s nice that West made it out of here. But it’d be nice if he wouldn’t pretend we didn’t exist.”
“Mama, that’s not true,” Scarlett pipes up. “He bought us a house and a car.”
Lexi huffs. “Yeah. But would it have killed him to pick up the phone once in a while? To visit when he wasn’t here for a funeral? Maybe things would’ve been different. I dunno.”
She takes another pull of Diet Mountain Dew.
“Just seems like he abandoned us,” Lexi says, voice low. “Kind of seems like it’s the Maxwell way. All the men in that family just . . . sooner or later . . . poof . . . gone.”
Scarlett’s hands rest folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on her untouched orange juice. I don’t know anything about West’s father, but I don’t think it’s fair to say Will abandoned them just because he died. West, on the other hand . . . I’m sure there’s more to it than any of us realize. He’s nothing if not a complicated and layered man.
“It’s never too late,” I say, “to change things. I recently quit my job. I know it’s not the same thing, but sometimes you have to do something drastic in order to be the person you were always meant to become.”
“I guess . . .” Lexi perks up when our food arrives, elbowing Scarlett as they eye her chocolate-chip pancakes.
As soon as we finish our breakfast, I excuse myself to call my mother, whose call I missed a few minutes ago. Leaning against an exterior window, I fill my mom in on the latest before listening to her vent about the caterer for a hot minute. Peeking in, I watch Lexi and Scarlett; I never realized how much joy and sadness a person could hold on their face at the same time.
Deep down, I’m sure Lexi wishes she could be the mother Scarlett needs.
And deeper beyond that, I know Scarlett’s love for her mother is unconditional.
It’s a tragic, beautiful bond.
I finish up with Mom and shoot West a text before heading in.
ME: Finishing breakfast with Lexi.
WEST: Glad she showed up.
ME: Same.
ME: Our girl needed this. So much.
I settle back into the booth just as Lexi is sliding her purse over her shoulder.
“Taking off already?” I ask.
Scarlett pouts.
“I have to pick Jared up from work. He’s on nights.” Lexi pouts back to her daughter before slipping her arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, kid. I’ll come out and see you next time, okay? I’ve always wanted to see New York City.”
I smile at the empty promise, praying Scarlett doesn’t hold her breath.
“That’d be wonderful,” I say. “You should definitely come visit. We’ll give you the grand tour. Scarlett’s quickly learning her way around the city. I’m sure she’d love to show you some of her favorite places.”
I paint an enjoyable picture for Lexi in hopes that it makes a trip out east that much more appealing. It should be enough to want to visit her daughter’s new home, but Lexi isn’t a typical mother. I suspect there has to be something else in it for her—like a grand tour as a guest of honor. Either way, I have no problem pushing Lexi to visit. I’ll be as relentless as I need to be to make this happen for Scarlett.
Climbing out of the booth, Lexi reaches for her daughter’s hand, giving it a parting squeeze.
“We don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon,” Scarlett says, brows lifted in hope. “Maybe we can see you again before then?”
Lexi winces. “I’m dancing tonight, baby girl. Otherwise I’d be all yours.”
“You said you weren’t going to work there anymore.” Scarlett’s voice is low and laced with disappointment. “After that guy followed you home. And you said the younger girls were getting all the tips. And you—”
