Maybe it’s knowing that I’m not really alone, no matter how often I feel that way. Maybe it’s knowing that there’s someone out there who cares about what happens to me. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s from Nash. Maybe it’s that he was thinking of me, that he took the time to text me. Maybe it’s that he wanted to check on me, that he even thought to check on me. Maybe it’s that he seems always to be there for me when I need him, even though he doesn’t necessarily set out to be.
Whatever the real reason, whether one of those, none of those or a combination of them all, it breaks the firm grip of fear, not completely but enough to let rational thought in.
I type out my short reply.
Yes.
I slide my phone back into my purse. I know I won’t get a response from him, but that doesn’t matter. Even though I know it’s a mistake, that it’s probably leading me nowhere good, I walk toward the door with a smile on my face and hope in my heart.
* * *
I feel much more at ease once I’m safely inside with the door locked behind me. I won’t lie. I checked every closet and under both beds, but that’s just being responsible. Right? Right.
I peel off my suit jacket and hang it in the closet. I grab a hair band as I pass through the bathroom, pulling my hair into a messy bun as I set about changing the rest of my clothes.
I’m attempting to stuff wayward strands of blond hair into a fairly neat pile atop my head when the doorbell rings. My hands pause in midair. Reflexively, my pulse speeds up. My mind rushes through names and faces of people who might be visiting me at such an odd time.
I know it can’t be Nash; he’s not that polite. He’d try the doorknob first, and then when he figured out it was locked, he’d knock. Loudly, I’m sure. Unless he knows which key on Cash’s BMW key ring belongs to my door. I didn’t tell him. I mean, he’s staying with me, but I didn’t give him that much freedom. That would’ve required too much trust.
I make a mental note to get that key back from Cash.
I return to puzzling over my visitor. It shouldn’t be my father. Or anyone else from the office. Daddy’s working and anyone else would call first.
Who else could it be?
I reason with myself that it’s broad daylight, and that the likelihood that it’s someone with nefarious plans is slim to none. Still, I look out the peephole before I slide the deadbolt open.
I’m puzzled by what I see. Shoulder-length blond hair, pretty face, skintight miniskirt and snug T-shirt, all on a Christina Applegate look-alike. It’s Olivia’s friend, Ginger. And she looks irritated. The question is: Why is she here?
Probably looking for Olivia.
I flip the lock and twist the knob, opening the door.
“Hi,” I say stiltedly. I’m uneasy. I realize my instincts are spot on once Ginger speaks. The conversation does not start off well.
“I think we can both agree that you’ve treated Olivia like shit most of her life, but,” she says emphatically, “I’ll give you one last chance to make it up to her before I’m forced to kick your ass and steal your man.”
I’m essentially dumbstruck by her speech, so it’s no surprise that I find a response to only one small portion of it. “I don’t have a man.”
“Sure you do,” she says with a grin. “I’ve seen you watching that other brother. I don’t know how in the hell one uterus can spit out three boys that look like that, but I thank God every day for just such a phenomenon.”
I learn a couple of things during this very short introduction to Ginger. Number one, she has no idea about what’s going on with Cash and Nash. Obviously, she assumes Nash is actually a third brother.
The second thing I learn is that I like Ginger. I can totally see why Olivia enjoys her company so much.
“Well, you can’t very well steal what I don’t have.”
“Please,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a dismissive swipe of her hand. “Even if he was yours, if I wanted some o’ that, I could get it. Men are helpless to resist me when I turn on the charm.” The grin she gives me is devilish and teasing. Evidently she’s joking.
I think.
“The point is, you’re a beautiful girl and you can have him if you set your mind to it. But”—her look turns warning—“if you hurt Olivia, I’ll destroy you. Plain and simple. Fair enough?”
I feel the urge to laugh, but I don’t. I have a feeling Ginger could be quite feisty if she thought I wasn’t taking her seriously. “Fair enough,” I agree mildly. “So, what brings you here? Other than threats of bodily harm.”
Her eyes light up. “A surprise party. You interested?”
Despite the life of privilege I’ve enjoyed, I’ve never participated in a surprise party. I’ve never really wanted to. Until now. It sounds like lighthearted fun. And I need some lighthearted fun. Heck, I just need some lighthearted anything. Although I’m making some major changes that should have the opposite effect, it seems my life has gotten even more intense and complicated than it was before. Still yet, I’d take it over the blind, thinly disguised misery I was previously trapped within. Any day of the week.
Any.
Day.
“I’m sure I should ask more questions before I agree to anything, but I’m gonna throw caution to the wind and say yes right away. What did you have in mind?”
“Can I come in? Or are you gonna make me stand outside all day?”
“Oh. Sorry,” I say, stepping aside so she can come inside. Ginger walks into the living room as I shut the door. She stops right in front of the coffee table and turns toward me. Her eyes are narrowed like she’s assessing me. I stop and look left and right. “What?”
“You know, I think you really have changed. You don’t strike me as a wicked bitch-on-two-sticks at all.”
I grin, not sure how to take that. “Um, thank you?”
Ginger smiles and drops down onto one end of the sofa. “You’re welcome. But your legs are pretty skinny.”
Ahhh, so that’s what the “two sticks” meant.
I look down at my legs, poking out from beneath my skirt, and then I look at Ginger’s as she crosses them toward me. “They’re not much thinner than yours.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. They’re better to wrap around prey, don’t you think?”
I grin again. Yes, this woman is a character. “I’ve never really thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right.”