Crazy For You (12 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Crusie

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: Crazy For You
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“Hey, I heard you went to the movies,” Darla said, when Lois came into the break room that afternoon.

Lois shrugged. “I like Tom Cruise. Matthew was paying. It’s no big deal.‘”

“Pretty big deal, dating your ex-husband,” Darla said, and watched Lois shrug. “Not to mention, making him pay. Literally.”

“Not ex-husband exactly,” Lois said. “I haven’t signed the papers yet.”

“Good,” Darla said. “I never sign papers. They only get you into trouble.”

Lois’s lips tightened. “It’s Bank Sluts that get you into trouble.”

“Right.” Darla considered telling Lois that no Bank Slut ever broke up a strong marriage and decided not to. Let Lois blame Barbara if that was what it took to get her marriage back.

“She’s probably on the prowl for somebody else now,” Lois went on, her face darkening.

“What’s her hair look like?” Darla said, remembering Debbie’s theory.

Lois snorted. “How would I know? Like she’d come here to get it done.”

Quinn breezed in then, glowing with excitement over her new house. “It’s so darling, Lois,” she said, dropping into one of the avocado armchairs. “And I just filled out the loan papers this morning, so it really is happening.”

“I’ve been by this house,” Lois said. “Darling it’s not.”

She left the room, and Quinn said, “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s dating her husband,” Darla said. “You’d think she’d be happy about that, but she’s still fixated on Barbara.”

“Dating her husband?” Quinn frowned. “Why would she be happy about that?”

“You know, something different.” Darla let her mind slide away from the something different she’d tried to put in her own marriage.

“What’s different? Matthew was a loss even before Barbara got him. I can see why Lois is depressed at the thought of dating him again.”

“He’s her husband,” Darla said with no enthusiasm.

“Right,” Quinn said, obviously filling in the blanks. “So what are you going to do about Max?”

“Something,” Darla said. “I’ll think of something. Just not now. Give me some gossip. Did you get the loan through Barbara? Tell me what her hair looks like.”

“How’d you know about her hair?” Quinn said. “She’s changed the color. It’s pretty, sort of streaked brown, but it’s a shock. She’s always been blonde, but it’s definitely light brownish now.”

Darla felt a twinge. Something not right there. If Barbara was going after Nick, she should have been deepening it to dark brown like Lisa’s. “Light brown?”

Quinn nodded. “It’s up in a twist like yours, only not so tight. Sort of like a Gibson Girl. She looks really, really good.”

Like yours.

“Darla?”

“Like mine?”

“Looser than yours. Fluffier, sort of.” Quinn gestured with her hands. “Like yours but not. With tendrils of hair around her face. You know.”

Except she had those wisps at the side that make it look so sexy,
Debbie had said.
Poor old Bea just looked like she had a bagel on her head, but Barbara looked great.

Darla touched her own tight French twist, the same tight knot she’d worn since high school.

Boring.

Max.

“Are you okay?” Quinn said.

“I’m fine,” Darla said. “Just fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Quinn said. “Talk.”

“I’m going to.” Darla picked up her purse. “To Max.”

Max was bent over a Sunbird when she came in, and Darla noticed with complete dispassion that he still had a great butt. That was one thing you had to give the Ziegler boys: they kept their bodies.

And she’d gotten the good-looking one, too. Nick had been the wild one, the one whose face had been thin with too many bones in it so he’d looked older than he was in high school. Max had been the handsome one, the nice one with the cheerful face. His mother had said, “Well, you got the good one, he’ll never give you any trouble.” People had been a little nervous around Nick, but everybody loved Max.

Still did, evidently.

He raised his head and started when he saw her. “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t hear you come in. What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Barbara was after you instead of Nick?” Her voice was clear, but her words seemed very far away to her, as if somebody else was saying them.

He put the hood on the Sunbird down, testing it more carefully than he had to in order to make sure it had caught. “No reason to.”

“A known homewrecker is chasing my husband and you didn’t see any reason to tell me?” Really, it was amazing how calm her voice was.

Max didn’t seem impressed. “Since I’m the husband, and I have no plans to cheat, no. I didn’t see any reason.” He folded his arms across his workshirt and leaned against the car, which for placid Max was attack position. Every light they’d ever had, he’d stood just like that.

“You let me think it was Nick,” Darla said.

“It didn’t hurt anybody.”

“It made me look like a fool.”

Max shook his head, clearly disgusted. “No, it didn’t The whole town knows I’d never cheat on you.”

It struck Darla with sudden clarity that he never would. He’d fallen in love with her at eighteen, he’d married her, he had two sons with her, he’d built a house with her, and now he had every intention of dying with her, and he’d never do anything to upset that.

“You have everything you’ve ever wanted, don’t you?” she said, appalled, and she was even more appalled to realize that she couldn’t think of anything else she wanted, either. Their lives were over. They were on the downhill slide. “That’s why you were so mad about the raincoat thing the other night. It screwed up your routine.”

“I was surprised, not mad,” Max said, looking mad. “And I don’t want Barbara.”

“I almost wish you did,” she said and he scowled at her.

“Well, that’s a jackass thing to say.”

Darla felt her anger like a hot flash. “Don’t call me a jackass—”

“I didn’t call you a jackass.” Max folded his arms tighter. “I said what you said was a jackass thing to say, but if you keep on like this, I may—”

“Hey, guys,” Nick said, coining in from the back lot. Then he got a good look at both of them and said, “Oh, hell,” and backed out the door again.

“Fine,” Darla said. “But I would appreciate it if next time you did not lie to me.”

“I did not lie,” Max said.

“You didn’t tell me the truth,” Darla said.

“That’s not necessarily lying.” Max unfolded his arms and walked over to the sink, where he began to wash his hands. “I’m not attracted to her. At all. And even if I was, I wouldn’t cheat on you. I have a family.”

“Well, that’s real big of you, Max,” Darla said. “The family and I appreciate it.”

“Also I love you,” Max went on. “Although right now I have to wonder why.”

“I love you, too,” Darla said. “And I’m doing a little wondering myself.” She walked over to the door and opened it. “Get in here before you freeze,” she yelled to Nick who was shooting a basket and knocking icicles off the hoop. “The fight’s over.”

But it wasn’t, she knew. It wouldn’t be over until she figured what the hell they’d been fighting over.

She had a real good idea it wasn’t Barbara.

Quinn started her move on Friday after school by loading a nervous Katie, her grandmother’s silver, and nine garbage bags of clothes into her car and driving to her new house. Edie and Meggy met her there and began to polish floors, moving on to windows while Quinn wiped down shelves, hung up her clothes, and put the silver away.

“This place really is beautiful, Quinn,” Edie said when they were done. “Lots of lovely quiet.”

“It’s a risk,” her mother said. “I don’t know what people are going to think, you living alone out here. And your next-door neighbor is Patsy Brady, for heaven’s sake, and you know
her
reputation.”

Edie rolled her eyes, and Quinn said, “Mom, stop it. I don’t care what other people think. I can’t live my life for other people, I have to live it for myself.”

“Oh, well, sure, that
sounds
good—” Meggy began.

“It is good.” Quinn stood in the middle of her house, feeling invincible. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been. The risks I’m taking like keeping Katie and buying this house—”
and wanting Nick
—“are making me feel alive.” She looked around at the now-gleaming floors, at the tall windows with all the light streaming through. “How can you look at this and not think it’s wonderful? Can’t you be glad for me?”

“I am glad for you,” Meggy said. “It’s just, all these changes—” She picked up her purse and sighed. “Never mind, I’m probably just jealous.”

“You want a new house?” Quinn said, confused, but Meggy shook her head and went out the door.

“It’s lovely, Quinn,” Edie said. “Have us all over for dinner when the furniture is in.”

“Right now that’s the pie safe, the washstand, Mom’s red couch and armchair, and our old twin beds,” Quinn said. “Although I did order this gorgeous bed for me, too. I deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” Edie kissed her on the cheek as Meggy honked the horn outside. “Have a good life here, Quinn.”

“I’ll do my best,” Quinn said, and then left to pick up Darla at the Upper Cut so they could clear out the house-wares department at Target together, leaving Katie to explore her new house and yard with her usual suspicion and dread.

“This is fun,” Darla said two hours later, folding the last of Quinn’s new mint green towels into the old-fashioned wall cupboard built into Quinn’s bathroom. “Maybe I’ll hit the savings account and buy everything new.” She shoved aside a pile of Quinn’s nightgowns to make room for towels and said, “What’s this?”

She pulled out a wad of white chiffon and shook it free and Quinn made a face. “It’s a nightgown Bill got me. Isn’t it awful? It made me feel like a virgin sacrifice. And then when I put it on, he could see right through it so he hated it.”

“Right through it?” Darla held it up in front of her and looked at Quinn through the filmy cloth. “Oh. And he hated it?”

“Bill isn’t into sexy,” Quinn said.

“Max is,” Darla said. “Or at least he used to be.”

“Then it’s yours.” Quinn waved her hand. “Use it with my blessing.”

“There’s a thought.” Darla wadded the gown up again and jammed it into her bag where Katie sniffed it and then sighed because it wasn’t food. Darla moved to the sink and opened the wall cupboard to stack soap and toothpaste into the cabinet. “You bought two toothbrushes?”

Quinn looked at the ceiling. “I bought a bed, too. You never know when you’re going to have somebody sleep over.”

Darla shook her head. “If you’re talking about Nick, that’ll be never. He’s allergic to sleepovers. Lisa got so frustrated she showed up on Christmas Eve and told him she was staying so they could wake up on Christmas morning together.”

Since Lisa was history, there was no reason for Quinn to feel jealous, and there was especially no reason for her to feel jealous since she had no relationship with Nick at all, but she did. Really, she was hopeless. “At least Lisa went after what she wanted.”

Darla snorted. “Yeah, but she didn’t get it. When they came to dinner, she was fuming. She said when she woke up, Nick was out in the living room asleep in his armchair. And then she was expecting a ring and got a CD set.” Darla closed the cabinet door and stuffed the now-empty Target bag in the trash. “And that was it for Lisa.”

“Was Nick upset when she left?” Quinn hated how needy she sounded.

“He was relieved.” Darla’s voice was sympathetic. “He always is. Round about the one-year mark, he gets itchy.”

“With me, it was at the half-hour mark,” Quinn said.

“Well, he’ll have to go longer tonight,” Darla said. “He has a lot of furniture to unload.” She checked her watch. “They should be at your mom’s right about now. Let’s go.”

Quinn thought about seeing Nick again and felt like throwing up. “Oh good.”

* * *
Bill watched Quinn and Darla drive away and scowled at the empty house. It was ugly, dirty and gray and skinny and derelict and isolated, and he hated that she was going to live there—especially live there with that damn dog, especially live there without him.

He got out and walked around the place, shaking his head at the patchy ground, full of weeds and stones, and when he let himself in the backyard through the alley gate, it was worse. Then the dog burst through a flap in the back door, barking at him hysterically, trying to get him in trouble, and he retreated to the gate before anybody could catch him there and jump to the wrong conclusion. He was just there to protect Quinn, to find out how bad the place was, and it was so bad, he knew he had to get her out of there somehow.

“What’re you doing?” a woman called, and he jerked around to see a blowzy-looking brunette leaning over the fence.

“Meter reader,” he called cheerfully, keeping his face averted as he waved and went through the gate. The dog followed him through, still barking.

If the dog wasn’t around, Quinn wouldn’t need a house.

He slammed the gate so the dog was outside in the alley— maybe it would get hit, it was dumb enough—and then he got in the car and headed for a pay phone. He’d call the pound and tell them a vicious dog was loose. Quinn couldn’t blame him if the dog got out, that was the dog’s fault. And the pound would call him since he’d paid for the license. “Put it down,” he could say. “I think it’s dangerous.” That was the God’s honest truth, too. It was dangerous.

As he drove away, he could see the dog in the rearview mirror, sniffing garbage cans, not even trying to run away.

Dumb mutt. It deserved to die.

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