When no one seemed willing to move from the living room, Daniel went out to get dinner for all three of them. He knew that something was wrong. He returned with a plastic bag full of Chinese food and a bottle of Maker’s Mark. Liz smiled when she saw it and reached for it. Victoria got to it first and snatched it out of her hands.
“I’ll just get us some glasses. Eat,” Victoria said.
Liz groaned, but let Victoria take her liquor into the kitchen. She couldn’t keep it hostage forever. Daniel handed her a box of Chinese, and Liz flipped the lid open. She swirled the food around in her takeout container, took a few bites, and then set it back down. She was too jittery to eat. Her stomach couldn’t take it.
Victoria returned with three glasses of Maker’s on the rocks in her hands. She passed one off to Daniel and then set hers down on the side table.
Liz brought the glass to her lips and, taking a long swig, she cringed at the taste and set it back down. “That’s disgusting.”
“It’s delicious,” Daniel said. “Don’t hate on my favorite drink.”
Victoria rolled her eyes at him. “You should probably eat more before drinking more anyway.”
“I’m fine,” Liz lied. She tipped the glass back again. This was going to end poorly.
Two drinks later and the alcohol was numbing her pain. Somehow she convinced Victoria and Daniel that heading to Franklin Street in her condition was a good idea. She wasn’t sure if they actually believed her or if they were just going along with whatever she wanted. She was so pissed off at the entire situation that she really just didn’t care. She would have walked out of the house and gone drinking alone if they hadn’t wanted to come with her.
Wanting to do anything but think about what had happened, Liz took extra special care curling her hair and applying her dark smoky makeup. She changed into the sluttiest outfit in her closet, a skintight black-and-white patterned strapless minidress, which she had to pull down when she was walking, and six-inch leather strappy high heels. Even Victoria would be proud of her.
Liz assessed herself in the mirror and then decided that red lipstick was in order. It wasn’t her normal routine, but, well, she wasn’t really feeling like herself tonight. She was feeling like total shit. She had walked away from one relationship, tried to love another man, been used for the advancement of his career, and still there was no way she could go back to what she had originally walked away from. So, for tonight, nothing really mattered. She just wanted to get rip-roaring drunk and forget that today ever happened.
As she was about to walk out of her bedroom to see if Victoria was ready to go, her phone started ringing loudly from where she had thrown it on her bed. Liz dashed for it, her heart racing. Was it Hayden? Could he finally have manned up? Her heels skittered across the floor and she crashed down onto her bed, snatching the phone off the comforter. She stared down at the screen. Not Hayden. Another number she didn’t know. She hoped this wasn’t a reporter, because the two glasses of bourbon weren’t making her friendly.
“Hello?” she said into the phone. She crossed her legs and sat up straighter.
“Liz, it’s been too long,” the smooth, seductive voice said through the line.
Liz’s eyes bugged as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Clay?”
“And I thought for a minute you might not recognize me.”
“Of course I recognize you.” No chance in hell that she wasn’t going to recognize Clay Maxwell. Why was he calling her now?
“So, how have you been? Did you have a nice day?” he asked casually.
Liz narrowed her eyes. No contact for over a year and now he was acting all buddy-buddy.
“What do you want, Clay?” she asked.
“I can’t check in on an old friend?”
“You’ve never called me before.”
“Well, I am now,” he said.
“So, what do you want? I don’t assume that you’re calling me for no reason.”
“I read an article today in the newspaper about my brother. Have you seen it?” Clay asked.
Liz’s mouth went dry. “I saw it,” she said.
“But do you know what I couldn’t stop thinking about, Liz?”
“No,” she whispered.
“You. Liz Carmichael. The girl who showed up at the Fourth of July event and the gala and Hilton Head. Seemed a bit . . . convenient once I started thinking about it.”
Oh shit! Liz couldn’t breathe.
“But when I looked up the UNC registry, there wasn’t a Liz Carmichael either, and the only Liz at the UNC paper was a Liz Dougherty. Strange that you should tell me that your last name was Carmichael. Don’t you think?”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I never told you that was my last name,” she whispered.
“Ah. Right. The valet mentioned it at the gala . . . the event that you were at with Chris. Perhaps it’s just me, but the pieces don’t seem to fit,” Clay said. She could almost see the dimples in his smile.
“What do you want, Clay?” There had to be a catch, some kind of point to all of this. He knew. But what did he want?
“I want to see you tonight.”
“I’m not sleeping with you, Clay,” she responded immediately.
“Whoa! I never even insinuated that you would. Someone is jumping to conclusions.”
She could hear the laughter in his voice. She knew exactly what he was after. He had always been after one thing.
“I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re not. But you also don’t have anything else to lose by coming to see me. The reporter was your boyfriend, right?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Liz quickly corrected. She didn’t even want to think about Hayden. She just wanted to knock some sense into him.
“Exactly. So tonight?”
What the hell did she have to lose that she hadn’t already lost?
“Well, I’m going to be on Franklin Street in about twenty minutes. If you can find me, then you can see me.” She doubted that he would ever find her. There were a ton of bars on Franklin Street, and why would Clay go through that much trouble?
“Any hints?”
“I’ll be drinking,” she said before hanging up the phone.
That was it. She wasn’t going to answer her phone the rest of the night. Each call just brought more and more drama that she didn’t want to have to deal with. The only people she actually wanted to speak with hadn’t called, and she didn’t think they were going to. So she resigned herself to getting blackout drunk.