He Belongs With Me (7 page)

“Yeah, twins,” I said. Then, keeping with her idle chit-chat—even though I despised idle chit-chat—I asked the woman, “How long have you worked for Leo?

“Almost two years now.”

Once we stepped into one of the glass elevators, I slipped off my pink shoes. My poor feet could no longer take the pain and the cold floor felt glorious against my blisters. Regina looked down at my bare feet and blanched. She'd been pretty friendly up until now, so her repulsed reaction surprised me. The doors slid shut and we were whisked soundlessly upward.

“I find it odd that Leo's never mentioned your existence,” Regina commented, dropping all formalities now that we were behind closed doors. Her face soured and I got the impression that I was about to see the real Regina. “Working so closely over the past two years, I feel like I know Leo better than anyone and it's just strange that we've never met. Do you think he purposely kept you a secret, or are you just so irrelevant to him that he didn't think it worthwhile to mention you?”

Ouch.
Were the words 'please insult me' stamped somewhere on my forehead? Exchanging a quick look with Steph, I tried to do what I do best and ignore the woman's vicious jab—but I couldn't manage it. “I guess you don't know him as well as you think. Or maybe you're the one who’s irrelevant, and he didn't feel the need to discuss his personal life with you.” I grabbed the key card, the one she was clutching tightly in her grubby little manicured fingers. “You don't have to show us the way, I've been here before. I think I can manage.”

The timing couldn’t have been better because at that very moment, the elevators doors opened onto the penthouse floor. With Steph following close after me, I left Regina and headed down the long, open hallway. Once we were in the safety of my very large suite, I released my anger, “What a grade-A bitch!”

Steph laughed, saying, “Okay. Um, hi. Good to see you too.”

I smiled at my friend. “Sorry, it's been an interesting morning.”

“I can tell,” Steph said, raising one eyebrow. She looked like she had tons more to say but right then caught a glimpse of the view of Central Park and the surrounding skyscrapers outside our floor-to-ceiling windows and ran over to check it out. “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!”

Trying to forget Regina's nastiness, I followed her and we both took a minute to appreciate the spectacular, panoramic view. I'd been stretching the truth when I told Regina I'd been here before. Inside the hotel—yes. In this room on the top floor—no.

After peeling her face off the glass, Steph flopped onto the big, cushy bed. “Okay. Want to start by telling me what you're doing here with Leo Maddox? Last time I checked, you hated the guy.”

I unglued my eyes from the window and looked over at her. “I don't
hate
hate him. Hate is a strong word. He irritates the shit out of me, but he's kind of like family so...I don't know. Want the truth?”

“Hit me with it.”

“I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing here.” I went and plopped down beside her on the bed, letting out a dramatic sigh. Then I proceeded to fill her in on all the juicy details. Leo's hateful but true words at the gala. Seeing my ex-stepbrother again. Running Leo over with the golf cart. Sleeping in his Great-Grandma Bunny's bed. I even included the part where I stood like a lunatic drooling over Leo's perfect ass this morning.

“You like Leo!” she concluded.

“Were you even listening? I despise Leo.”

“Yeah, but you also admitted to liking how he looks naked and you're here now. Plus, you just told me you didn't
hate
hate him, whatever that means. So, I'm pretty sure a small part of you might like him.”

“That's ridiculous. I came to New York because I wanted to see you.”

“Alrighty then,” she said, letting it go. That's one thing I loved about her. Steph knew when not to push me. “I have to be at work tonight by six. I'm all yours until then. I got a job serving drinks on the weekends at this place in Brooklyn called the Alligator Lounge. If you're up for it later, then you could come with me to work tonight and hang out. The place is pretty cool; I know you'll like it. And then I'm free tomorrow.”

“I wish you didn't have to work at all.” I gave her my best pouty face. “But sure, I'll go with you to work later.”

“What are we going to do until then?”

“The better question is...what are we
not
going to do?”

After taking a quick shower, Steph and I took a taxi over to Greenwich Village. Still wearing yesterday's black dress, I desperately needed some retail therapy. I bought three outfits, one for each day that we’ll be in New York. I also gave the pink stilettos a new home in a trashcan before opting for a pair of comfy ballet flats. Leaving as fast as we did, I hadn't had time to grab a toothbrush or anything else so basic necessities were a must too.

Typically, I never spent money. While at school, I worked at an off-campus restaurant called Macado's. Between there and working for Dad every summer since age sixteen, I had a decent chunk of money in a special bank account. I saved constantly because I was dead serious about my Arizona escape plan. After I finished college, I figured I'd need enough money to buy a car, rent an apartment, and get myself on my feet once I got away. Dad and Maggie knew nothing of my personal bank account or my plan to leave them. But I wanted my freedom—I wanted it more than anything.

Steph didn't understand my obsession about leaving. When I first told her, she thought maybe I had serious family problems. But I'd had a good childhood and deep down I knew Dad and Maggie loved me. It's just...I didn't want their life. I hated the country club, the snooty club members, the endless parties, and even the smell of freshly cut grass. My plan wasn't to run away—just to get away. I saw the difference and I hoped my family would too when I finally got up the courage to leave them.

After Steph and I finished shopping, buyer's remorse started to settle in my stomach. I’d spent a lot more money than I ever did, but I forced the guilty feeling aside.
Splurging every now and then was okay,
I told myself. Nothing like the money Maggie could drop on one dress.

As we left Greenwich Village, Steph and I passed a trendy hair salon that was calling my name. Maggie hadn't been too far off when she said the color in my hair looked like Kool-Aid. The pink was only chalk and had disappeared with my shower. So while Steph grabbed us some takeout for lunch, I decided to go bold and spend a little more of my savings. I chose lavender and let the stylist go nuts. I thought it looked doggone good on me and was worth every penny. If Dad shit funny for week because of it, then that was just an added bonus. When Steph returned and saw my new hair, she squealed with delight, complimenting me on my color choice.

“Thanks. I like New York because I can walk down the street and no one cares what color my hair is. When I go back to hick-town USA, people are going to flip their shit when they see it.”

Steph giggled at my use of profanity. For some reason, she always found it hilarious when I tried to swear. “Yeah, but isn't that the reaction you want?”

“No, actually it isn't. I mean it's cool if people like it, but really I just want to do what I want to do and not be judged.”

Speaking of being judged…I checked my phone for the first time since arriving in New York and saw that there were three missed calls from Dad’s number. By now he'd probably used his fancy surveillance equipment, the kind that had facial recognition or something crazy like that, and figured out it was me who went joyriding all over his precious golf course last night. I'd be mincemeat come Monday. The only way to soften the blow was to come clean beforehand. I dialed the house phone instead of his cell and hoped no one would answer. I'd rather admit my crimes to the soft voice of the answering machine than to Dad's harsh, real-life yelling.

When the machine picked up, I breathed a huge sigh of relief and said what I needed as fast as humanly possible. “Dad. It's Clara. So last night, after seeing my wonderful ex-stepbrother in the flesh, I decided to blow off some steam and took off with a golf cart. Big mistake, I know. Just ask Leo, since I kind of accidentally ran him over. Don't worry, he's not dead. And your cart is fine too. That's not all. I'm in New York visiting my friend Stephany from school. I'm being safe. I already told Anita I couldn't work. And I'll be back Monday morning to face the music. I love you. Oh, and one more thing. I dyed my hair lavender. Okay. Bye.” I hung up feeling like the worst daughter on the planet. Maggie would never pull this kind of crap with him. But I wasn't Maggie—not even close.

CHAPTER 7

MAGGIE

Dad and I ate dinner out on the back patio like we always did in the summer. Sometimes Clara joined us. Sometimes she didn't. Either way, I always loved this time with Dad and never missed a meal. My old man was the best cook in all of Blue Creek—probably in the whole state.

Every September at the Harvest Festival in Roanoke, Dad always took home the ‘best pie in southern Virginia’ award for his apple pie. His big secret: grilling the apples before baking them into the pie. But tonight, as the sun sank over our view of Blue Creek and the Appalachian Mountains and my father plated a heaping portion of his famous pie onto my plate, I suddenly lost my appetite.

“Something bothering you, Maggie May?” Dad asked, noticing the change immediately. “Is something wrong with the pie?”

I shrugged.

“Should I go get some vanilla ice cream? Pie isn’t pie without vanilla ice cream.”

“No, that’s not it.”

Dad reached out and rested his hand over mine. “Was it seeing Robby again?”

Yes.
A lump formed in my throat at the mention of his name. It shouldn’t have but it did.

“Let me go get you a scoop of ice cream to go along with your pie, then we can talk.” Dad’s chair scraped against the wood of the deck as he stood before going inside. The reality of seeing Robby again after so many years hadn't had the opportunity to sink in until this very moment. Our first encounter came rushing back to me as if it had happened yesterday…

Three days after my fifteenth birthday, two hours after Dad announced his surprise marriage to Monica Harvey, and ten minutes after I managed to stop sobbing hysterically into my pillow, I first laid eyes on my step-brother, Robby Harvey. From my cracked-open bedroom door, I watched him move his one suitcase into the room across the hall from mine, like he'd done this sort of thing a dozen times in the past. Just before he went back downstairs, he stopped in the middle of the hallway to speak to me. Realizing then that he'd caught me peeking, I quickly shut my door.

Still he spoke. “I'm so sorry,” his deep, smooth voice whispered. “We won't be here long. My mom has a gypsy heart and never sticks around any place longer than a couple months. I understand how you might feel, but trust me...we'll be gone soon. Your life will go back to normal and it will be like you never met us. I promise.”

When he said they’d be gone soon, that was the understatement of the century. And my life
had
gone back to normal, almost like I had never met him. Almost...but not quite.

Dad came back outside with an enormous amount of ice cream. There was something about ice cream and secrets. I guess I couldn’t be trusted to hold in anything with a spoon in my hand because, as we ate, the story of how Robby pretended to be a stranger at last night’s gala came pouring out. It felt good talking things over with Dad and getting it off my chest, but as the plates were cleared and dishes were brought inside, I realized that my stomach still felt strange. And oddly enough, it had nothing to do with Robby.

I hadn't heard from Leo all day. He hadn't been at his house and Clara had mysteriously gone missing too. But one thing had been located—the golf cart.

I saw it parked at Leo's when I went by earlier.

What was going on with Leo and Clara? And why was it making me feel like I had a ton of rocks in my stomach instead of ice cream?

CHAPTER 8

CLARA

After the salon, Steph and I rode the subway to her little apartment in Brooklyn. The place was messy, cramped, and had one bathroom for six girls. And even though the apartment sucked, I couldn't have been more proud of her. Three years ago she never would have been brave enough to spend a summer in the big city, live with tons of roommates, land a big-time internship, and work a second job at a bar. She was an inspiration to me.

While she got ready for work, I changed into one of my new outfits—jeans, a loose-fitted white tank top, and a studded leather jacket I'd found at a second-hand store. I didn't wear a bra because I didn't have one with me. My boobs were pretty non-existent and I liked to wear cami-style tops and loose-fitted stuff anyway.

Once we were all set to go, Steph and I walked the two short blocks to the Alligator Lounge. The place sat intertwined among the buildings. Approaching the entrance, I thought we were about to enter the biggest dive bar on the planet. The inside wasn’t much better. The red-wood paneling clashed tragically with the tropical and Romanesque decorations but somehow I found myself digging the corny but casual vibe.

I wished Steph didn't have to work, but in a place like this I'd be fine on my own. A long bar stretched the length of the room and I claimed a stool toward the back, picking a spot that I thought Steph would pass by frequently while she worked. The place gave away free pizzas when you purchased a beer so I ordered a beer, tried the pizza, and decided I'd need to pace myself if I wanted to make it through Steph's eight-hour shift.

The first hour passed super-fast and Steph hung with me every free chance she got. I had just moved on to beer numero dos when my cell phone rang. Leo's name lit up the screen, completely surprising me since we’d always had each other’s numbers but never used them before. My heart rate quickened for some strange reason and I stared at my phone as it rang, wondering if I should answer or not. At the last second I decided to pick up. “Hello?”