We’re up to Chapter 2! If you have yet to read Chapter 1, click on the link to catch up. I’m hoping to have it out by Monday. I hope you’re ready! It will come quick!
Chapter 2
When we reached my truck, I unlocked my custom 1970s electric Bronco and opened the passenger side door for Lizzy. “I know I have an old SUV, but that skirt still won’t fit.” Despite compressing the garment to get through the window, the humongous hoops had popped right back to their original state. What the ever-loving—! I’d shoved it down until it was half its size. How was that possible?
“I can’t get this thing off by myself.” Lizzy began frantically lifting armfuls of frilly material up from the asphalt under our feet. “What do you want me to do?”
I blew out a noisy exhale. “You owe me for this,” I muttered. Before I could consider what I was doing, I dropped to my knees, ducked under the layers upon layers of frills, and found the waist of the underskirt. My fingers traced from Lizzy’s belly button all the way to the back, but no fastenings. Had they sewn her into the damned thing? “Where’s the freaking button or snap?”
“It’s a drawstring.”
I repeated the process in the opposite direction. “I can’t believe I’m in your skirts.” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke. We’d been friends forever, and I’d never, ever imagined I’d have to do this!
“Oh, my God. You would go there.”
“Ha!” My finger caught the loop of a bow that popped from underneath the waistband when I pulled the fabric away from her waist. I tugged and tugged at the knot, but it wouldn’t give. “Don’t move.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to use my pocketknife, or we’ll be here for hours. Faith obviously doesn’t want grandchildren from you if she tied this.”
“Stop trying to be funny.”
With a quick flick of the blade, the underskirt fell, and I bolted from under the mass of fabric before I became trapped and suffocated in the fashion faux-pas fiasco of bows and organza… or was that tulle? As soon as I was back on my feet, I brushed at the knees of my black tuxedo pants. “I’m going to need to get them cleaned.”
Lizzy hurried up into the passenger seat without waiting for me to help her. “Stop whining and get in the truck.”
“I’m not whining.”
“I’ve never known a guy who was so fastidious about his clothing.”
I let out a cross between a laugh and a cough as I climbed inside the cab. “I bet Bill is.” She’d even told me how he could only wear suit coats with an even number of buttons.
“Don’t say his name ever again.”
I grinned as I started the engine. “Who? Bill?”
At her glare, I held up my hands. “Okay, okay! I promise I won’t mention him again.”
I let out another huge exhale as I drove out of the parking lot. All I needed was Faith Bennet to spot me liberating Lizzy from that prick she’d convinced her daughter to date and marry. Not that I cared. Faith could kiss my ass. I was Lizzy’s friend and would never abandon her—especially now!
After about ten minutes of silence, there was a sniff. “Richard, I think I need to go back.”
“You want to go back and face Faith?” The woman would eviscerate Lizzy.
“Ugh! No, she’ll kill me. On second thought, I need alcohol.” Lizzy’s voice was small, so when I stopped at the next light, I glanced over and flinched. Tears poured down her cheeks which were now covered in trails of gloppy black. Most of the time, she hardly wore any makeup and was gorgeous as she was. The thick mask Faith had applied to Lizzy’s face was now melting away. The effect was terrifying.
“Sweetie, don’t cry. I promise everything will be okay.”
“You don’t know that.” The words came out on a sob.
“Oh, but I do. You didn’t love Bill.”
Her expression turned fierce, and she pointed her index finger directly at my chest. “I said not to mention his name!”
“You didn’t love the tapeworm. Is that better?”
“Eww!” Her nose was starting to run and coalesce with the tears.
I kept a box of tissues in the back, so I grabbed them and put them in her lap. “Well? What did you want me to call him?”
“What was that list of names in Bridget Jones’ Diary?” She sniffled.
“I believe it was ‘alcoholics, workaholics, commitment phobics, peeping toms, misogynists, megalomanics, chauvinists, emotional fuckwits, or perverts.’[1] Which do you want to apply to You Know Who?”
“I can’t believe you can still recite that from memory. Oh!” She pointed up ahead. “There’s a liquor store in that shopping center. Pull in!”
“Firstly, we’ve watched that movie how many times? I’ve also read the book. As for the alcohol, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Come on, Dickie.”
“I wish you would stop calling me that.”
She giggled through her tears. “Your grandmother still calls you that.”
I turned into the parking lot and pulled into a space right in front of the store. “What do you want?”
“I’ll get it.”
She began gathering the folds of her skirt, but I grabbed her wrist before she could step out of the car. “In that dress? Without the underskirt, you’ll fall flat on your face.” I wasn’t going to mention the smeared makeup unless I had to.
With a huff, she slumped back into the seat. “Vodka, gin, whiskey. I don’t care.” As I started to exit the vehicle, she grabbed me by the shoulder. “On second thought, go big or go home. YOLO. You know and all that.”
“What does that mean?”
“That Scotch you always drink. I like that one.”
“The Aberlour?” She wanted to get drunk on a $100 bottle of Scotch. “That’s going to be ugly in the morning.” I wasn’t exaggerating either. She may as well drink Jack if she wasn’t going to savor it.
She waved her hand. “Never mind. I’ll take a bottle of tequila.”
I greeted the man at the counter when I entered. The hard liquor was behind the counter, so I stood in front of the clerk while I studied the shelves behind him. I passed over the cheap crap, then pointed to a bottle of Patròn Silver. I wasn’t totally heartless. I would never let her get plastered on rotgut.
When I made it back to the truck, I handed her the bag. She ripped the paper off, then proceeded to use her fingernail to break the plastic seal.
“How are you going to…?” Someone could’ve knocked me over with a feather when she tipped the bottle back and drank down a quarter of its contents. Shit! I’d need to get her some water and soon. Maybe once she got tipsy, I could hide the rest before she got alcohol poisoning.
“What’s wrong?” She wiped her cheek, smearing the black streaks up her cheekbone and into her hair.
“Not a thing.” I winced as I started the car, and as soon as we were on the road, I tapped the steering wheel a few times. “If you puke in my car, you’re going to clean it, then pay a professional to do it again.”
“I won’t puke in your car. Besides, I have the bag the tequila was in. Stop being such a wimp.”
“You ripped the bag, remember? It was also paper.”
“Oh, yeah.” She dropped her head onto the headrest.
“I’ll take you home.”
“No!” Her head shot up so hard I would be surprised if her brain didn’t ricochet off her skull. “My mother will be at my door as soon as she realizes I’m gone. I’ll be stuck inside. It’ll be a siege.”
“No biggie. We’ll go to my apartment then.”
“I have no doubt she’ll try there too. You haven’t moved in the past six years. Both of us would be trapped.”
I could’ve groaned. She was right. Faith would never leave me alone until I gave up Lizzy’s whereabouts. I’d never do that, of course, but I didn’t want to deal with the woman either. “Then what do you suggest?”
“I have to get out of town for a while, at least until Faith cools off. You’ll want to lie low for a few weeks.”
With a groan, I sagged then straightened. “I’ll have to call my assistant at some point. We’ll need to coordinate everything so I can work remotely for several days.” Lizzy wanted to believe Faith Bennet would cool off, but that woman had a memory like a rhinoceros. She never forgot anything and would ram her objections down your throat if you let her. I gripped the steering wheel and winced.
To tell the truth, I was surprised Liz was left alone long enough to get away. Faith was so engrossed in this wedding, I wouldn’t have been shocked if Faith had walked down the aisle herself, and in that insane dress Lizzy was wearing.
A second’s glance was all I needed to know the woman had selected the gown herself. Lizzy—my best friend since kindergarten—would never wear so many frills or bows, or a monstrosity that appeared as though she was expecting to time travel back to the Civil War.
For as long as I could remember, Mrs. Bennet had talked about when her daughters married—when they found rich men. She had encouraged Lizzy’s friendship with me once upon a time. How many times had she insinuated the two of us would make a “lovely couple” or comment that I should take Jane, who was a mere year older, to this dance or that? Of course, that stopped four years ago when Faith Bennet saw me out on a date one night. At the realization I preferred men, I became the wealthy, unavailable man Faith Bennet no longer had time for, and she admonished Lizzy for remaining my friend.
No, Mrs. Bennet would never forgive her second daughter for running away on her wedding day—she also would never forgive me for helping—but I certainly wouldn’t mention that to Lizzy right now. Telling her that would only make her drink more, and she’d taken several more sips since she downed the first six or eight shots in one gulp.
The piercing sound of a screaming goat filled the cab, and I about jumped out of my skin.
“Oh, God! It’s Faith! She knows I’m gone.” Lizzy picked up her leather phone wallet and opened it, staring at the screen. We’d guffawed when we found that ringtone and set it for her mother. Now, it engendered terror.
“Don’t answer it. You know she’ll only lay a guilt trip on you.”
“I know.” Her head jerked to face me, her eyes bulging. “What if she tracks my phone? Do you remember that stalking case six months ago where the guy did that and the girl had no idea? It was all over the news.” Lizzy began tearing her driver’s license and credit cards out of the phone wallet.
“What are you doing?” Before I could stop her, she opened the window and hurled her phone as far as she could.
“Now, she won’t know where we are.” She wore a satisfied smile that wouldn’t last once she’d sobered and recalled what she’d done.
“What if she finds my number?”
Lizzy snorts. “She deleted that years ago, and your mother would never tell her. I think we’re safe.” She tipped back the bottle of tequila and took another gulp.
I couldn’t argue about my mother. She’d overheard Faith attempting to lay a massive guilt trip on Lizzy in high school. If Lizzy had wanted to leave the Bennet’s house, my parents would have used every legal means to keep her from having to go back. As far as they were concerned, Mrs. Bennet was just plain manipulative, and Mr. Bennet enabled her abuse.
I reached over and took her hand. “Hey, we can make it 275 miles before I need to charge the battery. Any ideas on where you want to go?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care as long as it’s far, far, far away from my mother.” Her words were slurring. She’d fall asleep soon. I squeezed her hand as another tear fell onto her cheek.
“Hon, you don’t ever have to see Faith Bennet again if you don’t want to.”
After she nodded, I turned my attention back to the road. The car was very quiet except for the hum of the heater. Lizzy wasn’t sleeping, though. If she’d passed out, she would’ve been snoring like a freight train. She always snored when she was drunk. Other than the occasional sniff, she hadn’t made a peep.
“Dickie?”
“Yeah, Liz?”
“If neither of us has found someone by thirty-five, will you marry me?”
“What about sex? As beautiful as you are, you’re not my type.”
“Who needs it?” She waved her hand almost falling over in the process. “It’s not like I ever got any from Bill. My vibrator has worked overtime for the past five years.”
My eyes almost popped from their sockets. She’d had a five-year drought, and she’d never told me! And how had her vibrator lasted five years? I shook myself.
I’d known she didn’t love Bill, and I’d tried to make her see sense, but I’d never been successful. If I’d known, I would’ve gotten her drunk and found some decent guy to hook up with her. Anything to get her away from the stiff-necked suck-up. Heck, I had someone I’d always thought was perfect for her. Bill was even more of a fuckwit than I had imagined.
“You won’t need me. You’ll find the perfect man, get married, have those three kids you want, and live happily ever after.”
She snuffled. “No man will want me once they meet Faith.”
“They’ll still love you, and because of that, they’ll never let Faith near you again.”
“That’s definitely a fairy tale.”
When she began to snore, I pulled off the road, capped the Patròn, and tucked it behind her seat. She didn’t need any more. I watched her sleep for a moment while I bit at my lip. Should I? I’d be read the riot act for bringing a drunk friend to crash, but I wouldn’t need to stop to charge. I could plug in my truck when we arrived. How many times had I wanted to… No, that decided it. Lizzy needed me to take care of her, and that was exactly what I was going to do.
[1] Fielding, Helen. Bridget Jones’ Diary. Picador. 1996.
