Maybe Baby (17 page)

“Thank you
very
much, Gina.”

I was
so
in trouble and I knew it. I looked over at her, trying to muster a glare. She was leaning back, sipping her coffee as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She wasn’t the one in trouble, I was.

“Hey Tylar,” she said. “Watch this.”

She took a long drag off of her unlit cigarette and pressed her lips into a tight circle, puckering in and out several times with her head tilted upward. She looked over at my questioning stare.

“Smoke rings for Chrissake,” she said, exasperated that I'd missed something so obvious. Just then, there was a light tap at the door.

“Come in,” Gina called out.

Thatcher proceeded in with a tray that he set carefully down on the nightstand on my side of the bed.

“Hope this will help you feel better Ms. Preston. Please let me know if there's anything else I can get for you.”

He looked over at Gina. “May I get you anything, Mrs. Hatton?” he inquired.

Gina gave him her signature smile. “I’m good for now, Thatch. Thanks again for all of your help last night and today.”

“Very well, then. I’ll come back later to pick up the tray.”

Gina got up and circled around the bed to my side. She reached down and picked up a glass of tomato juice that had a stalk of celery sticking out of it. “Here,” she instructed, handing me the glass. “Drink this down, fast.”

“What’s in it besides tomato juice?” I asked.

“Don’t ask,” she replied. “Just do it.”

I did as instructed, chugging it as quickly as I could. It didn’t taste that bad at first, but then the after-burner kicked in. I felt the heat in the pit of my stomach, rising up through my chest, then to my throat. I let out the most disgusting belch that seemed to drag on for a full ten seconds. Then it was over. My stomach felt fine; the burning had subsided.

“Now,” she continued, handing me a tall glass of ice water, “take these and drink the full glass.” She handed me a couple of ibuprofen tablets that had been placed on the tray. I did as instructed. “Those will get rid of the headache and the water will hydrate you.” She removed the stainless steel domed cover revealing dry toast and assorted melon pieces. “Eat as much as you can,” she advised.

I obliged by taking a slice of toast, biting off a corner and chewing it. Not bad. I forked some melon slices into my mouth, suddenly feeling better. I guess Nurse Gina knew what she was doing after all.

“I'll have to give Thatcher special thanks for picking us up last night and getting us back here safely,” I commented, chewing another chunk of honeydew melon.

Gina nodded her head. “Yeah,” she said, “he’s a pretty mellow dude. He didn’t even bat an eye when you tossed all over the backseat of his car.”

“I did?” I wailed. Was there no end to my agony?

“Uh huh. It was actually kind of humorous. You thought the window was down, so you went to stick your head out of it to puke. You banged your head against the closed car window, fell back onto the seat where you puked and then laid your head in it and fell asleep.”

“How'd I get up here?” I asked.

“Well, I guess Trey called Ray to ask him to find us at the track so that Thatch could bring us home. So, Ray ended up having to leave when he saw how wasted we were and he followed Thatch here, helping to get us into the house.”

“I remember being with you in your bathroom while you were being sick, though. Did I dream that?”

“No, silly. You were just kind of hanging out with me in my bathroom once Ray delivered me there. Then you told Ray you felt like you were going to be sick, and insisted you wanted to puke in Trey’s toilet, so he carried you down here I guess.”

Holy fuucckkk . . .

“Do you realize how angry Trey is with me right now?”

“Why should he be angry with you?” Gina sounded pissed. “You don’t remember what you told me last night, do you?”

“I don’t remember a lot of things about last night.”

“Let me fill you in. You told me that it'd been Trey on the phone with you when I walked in your room yesterday, and that he told you he was working on the case all weekend. You told me that you heard the voice of a blonde slut in the background telling him that it was time they left for their dinner reservation. I’m not sure how you knew that she was blonde. You know, all blondes are not sluts.”

I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t realized that I’d confided all of that to her. I wondered what else I might have confided.

“Hey,” she said elbowing me, “that's supposed to be a joke. I’m blonde. You calling all blondes whores, get it?”

“I’m sorry, Gina. I’m just thinking about that phone call."

“Listen,” she said, taking hold of my hands, “I know that we just met a week ago, not even, but I like you. I've got to tell you something that only a friend would tell another friend.”

Oh no, what was it? Did she know something about Trey that she hadn’t told me up to this point?

“I don’t see Trey committing to anything or anyone. I know that I don’t know him well in recent years, but I can tell you from what I remember, he's a loner. For him to be engaged that one time was a real shocker to me and everyone else. When that ended so badly, I can’t think he'd ever risk it again. I mean fucking him is one thing, but keep your heart out of it, okay?"

I nodded afraid to speak with the lump in my throat. Gina hadn’t really told me anything I wasn’t already starting to believe myself. I mean, of course she was right. Only we hadn't even fucked, so why the hell did he care what I did?

“I know you're right, Gina. I just have to figure out where I go from here. I can’t continue to work here with him being so close, you know? It'd be hard for me to keep my distance. I'm really…well, drawn to him for whatever reason."

“I know,” she said. “We’ll figure something out. Don't worry.”

We watched a couple more episodes of “I Love Lucy,” which helped bring me out of my funk. I glanced over at the clock, surprised to see it was already 4:30 in the afternoon.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said abruptly.

“I’m good with that, but where are we going to go, and how will we get there?”

“Not a problem,” I smiled, getting up from the bed and walking over to Trey’s dresser. I reached on top and grabbed his set of keys to the Lamborghini. “We’ve got wheels.”

“You do realize your hair is still wrapped up in a towel?” Gina pointed out.

“I'll be dressed and ready in fifteen minutes, how about you?”

“I'll be dressed and ready in fourteen minutes, Ms. Preston, see you downstairs!”

I ripped the towel off of my head and headed into Trey’s bathroom, eventually getting a comb through my hair. I pulled it up into a high, skinny ponytail, brushed my teeth and then applied tinted lip-gloss.

Back in my room, I dressed in a pair of my new low-slung red shorts and a white half-tee. I grabbed a pair of flip-flops. I'd no clue where my handbag was; I hoped that my cell phone was still in it. Heading downstairs, I found Gina in the entry hall, ready and waiting.

“Your purse is on the hall table there,” she said, nodding her head in that direction.

“Well some good news for a change,” I remarked. I dangled the Lamborghini key chain at her and grinned. “Let’s go!”

We jogged across the side yard to the five-car garage. I pressed a couple of different buttons on the remote hanging on the key chain and eventually a garage door opened. There was Trey’s shiny black sports car. Gina had brought some of my CDs from my room so we’d have some good music for our adventure. I pressed another button and the doors unlocked.

“Wow,” Gina exclaimed, “check it out, sweet black rims on this baby.”

She grabbed a couple of black baseball caps that were hanging on a hook in the garage. They had the Lamborghini logo on the front. She tossed one over to me.

“Here, let’s put these on because that convertible top is coming down.”

We slid into the car; I was in the driver’s seat.

“Uh oh,” I said.

“What uh oh?”

“I can’t drive a manual transmission,” I replied.

“It’s the standard H-box six speed,” she responded, as if that meant anything to me.

“You can drive this then?” I asked.

“Hell yes, this thing is like zero to 60 in what, four seconds?”

“Less. Three point two,” I corrected her.

We both got out and switched places. “Fasten your seat belts,” Gina instructed, “and prepare for takeoff.”

She fired the car up, pushing the button to put the convertible top down. Gina backed the car out carefully onto the concrete drive. She shifted into first gear, and gave it plenty of gas. “And we’re off!” she hollered, the wind catching our breath.

The day was beautiful for a drive, sunny and clear. She pulled the car out onto the two-lane highway, and sped off towards Bristol. It felt so invigorating to be out on the open highway, in a car that everyone gawked at, and that rode like a dream. The controls were all on the steering wheel. Gina quickly found the one for the stereo system and hit the CD button. Instantly, classical music blasted from the speakers.

“What the fuck is this?” Gina asked. She pressed another button from ‘mission control’ and the CD ejected. She read the title aloud, “Debussy’s Greatest Hits" performed by the English Chamber Orchestra? I don’t think so,” she laughed, pitching the CD out of the convertible.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked. “That’s Trey’s. Now I’m going to have to replace it.”

“Let non-girlfriend Charlotte replace it,” she said. “It’s a given he didn’t buy it to seduce you, now did he? I could be wrong, but I can’t see you getting into all of the vampirey music shit.”

“Vampirey's not a word.” I retorted. “And you do see the irony in what you just said having gotten a Vampire’s Kiss pierced on your freakin’ neck, right?”

Gina laughed good-naturedly. “My girl's back, yes and in fighting form. Now let’s see about putting a CD in there that we can relate to, okay?”

I nodded and sorted through the stack of CDs. In the meantime, Gina opened up the Lamborghini full throttle. I was so distracted that I didn’t see the black stretch limo that passed us going in the opposite direction.

“How about Pink? You sort of remind me of her.”

“Yeah?” Gina asked, obviously flattered. “You know I’ve heard that.”

“You kind of have an attitude like hers, too.”

“I’ve heard that said as well.”

I placed the CD into the tray, and it automatically slid back into the player. In a couple of seconds, Pink’s song, “Fuckin’ Perfect” was playing. I loved this song, a rare side of Pink. Gina pulled off the road into a Dairy Queen.

“Really?” I asked.

“I’m in the mood for a slushy,” she said. “How about you? My treat.”

“Sure, blueberry,” I replied.

“Got it.”

She left the car running while she went to the order window, coming back with two giant slushies, blueberry for me, root beer for her. We sat in the car, slurping our slushies, reflecting. Gina hadn’t mentioned Ian at all since yesterday. I knew she was still pissed and had turned her cell phone off for that reason. She probably wanted him to worry about what she was doing. I knew she was thinking about him when she got quiet like this.

Gina played with the controls on the steering wheel and skipped tracks to “So What.”

“Oh, I
love
this one,” she exclaimed and started singing along. Neither of us heard the black stretch limo pull up beside the passenger side of the Lamborghini. Gina noticed it before I did when she suddenly stopped singing, and looked out past me. I followed her gaze, still singing as I turned to see the limo. The tinted window in the back seat slowly lowered and I was greeted by those incredibly blue and incredibly angry eyes.

Uh oh.

“Ladies,” Trey greeted us in his smooth silky voice, “there's been a slight change of plans. I'll drive Tylar back to the house. Gina, you can make yourself comfortable in the limo, which will be right behind us.”

There was definitely an edge to his voice that neither of us challenged. The limo driver got out, opening the door for Trey. Gina was already scooting out of the Lamborghini, giving me a look that said, “Good luck, it's been nice knowing you.”

Trey slid into the driver’s seat, electronically adjusting it to accommodate his height. The driver closed the limo door after Gina was settled inside. I was afraid to look at Trey. I smoothed the ball cap down; trying to lower the bill enough to shield me from the glare I knew I was getting at that very moment. Someone had to say something.

“Trey,” I started to speak, humbly, “I know—”

“Not a word,” he breathed, having difficulty containing his anger. “I’m too pissed off at the moment. I don’t want to risk saying anything to you that I'll regret later. For now, please stay quiet and put your seat belt on.”

I scrambled to comply. The drive back to the manor felt extremely long despite the speed at which Trey was driving. I crouched as much as I could in a two-seater car away from him, but I could feel his anger burning through me. He'd every right to be. I'd abused his generosity and over-stepped boundaries by taking his expensive sports car out without asking. He'd never forgive me, I knew that. As soon as he pulled into the garage, I opened my door, anxious to put some distance between us.

“Hold it there!” he ordered. I jumped, startled by his unsuppressed anger now that we were back on his turf. “I want you to go inside and go up to your room. As soon as I calm down, I'll be up and we'll be having a discussion. Understood?”

I nodded, hating the fact that he was treating me like a child. I spotted the limo with Gina inside winding up the drive. I was humiliated on all fronts. The omnipresent Thatcher was there to open the door as I bolted in and up the stairs like a child waiting for the paddle. I slammed the door to “my room” immediately grabbing the suitcase out of the closet and throwing it wide open on the bed. I was tossing my clothing into it when t
here was a soft knock on my door. I knew he couldn't have calmed down already.

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened and Gina peered in the room, tentatively. Seeing that I was alone, she came in, closing the door behind her.