Rogue (34 page)

“I do too.”

“I don't think Charles likes them,” she said, frowning.

“They don't like him either,” Blake said, and they both laughed hard at that too. And then Maxine squinted at him as though from a great distance.

“Why did we get divorced anyway? Do you remember? I don't. Did you do something bad to me?” She was definitely drunk by then, and so was Blake.

“I forgot to come home.” He smiled sadly.

“Oh, that was it. Now I remember. That's too bad. I really like you … actually, I love you,” she said, smiling benignly at him, and hiccuped again.

“I love you too,” Blake said gently, and then his conscience got the better of him. “Maybe you should go to bed, Max. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow at your wedding.” Champagne was always a killer the next day.

“Are you asking me to go to bed with you?” she asked, looking a little startled.

“No, I'm not. If I did, Charles would be really pissed tomorrow, and you'd feel really guilty. But I think you should go to bed.” She finished the last of her champagne as she said it, and by then he could see she was really drunk. The final glass had made the difference, and he was feeling very drunk too. The vodka did him in after a long night of drinking, or maybe it was seeing her that way, in her gold dress. She was intoxicating. She always had been for him. He suddenly remembered, and wondered how he could have forgotten.

“Why do I have to go to bed so early?” she pouted at him.

“Because, Cinderella,” he said gently, scooping her up in his arms, and lifting her off the couch, “you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't. And you're going to marry the handsome prince tomorrow.” He started walking her to her bedroom.

“No, I'm not. I'm marrying Charles. I remember that. He's not the handsome prince. You are. Why am I marrying him?” She looked suddenly annoyed, and Blake laughed as he staggered and nearly dropped her, and then got a better grip. She was light as a feather.

“I think you're marrying him because you love him,” he said as he walked into her bedroom, and put her gently on the bed, and then stood looking at her, weaving slightly. They were both as drunk as skunks.

“Oh, that's nice,” Maxine said pleasantly. “I love him. And I really should marry him. He's a doctor.” And then she looked at Blake. “I think you're too drunk to go home. And I'm too drunk to drive you.” It was a fairly accurate assessment of the situation. “You'd better stay here.” As she said it, the room was reeling around him.

“I'll just lie down for a minute and sober up, if that's okay with you. And then I'll drive home. You don't mind, do you?” he asked, as he lay down next to her in his dinner jacket and his shoes.

“I don't mind at all,” she said, as she turned toward him, and put her head on his shoulder. She was still wearing the gold dress and the gold shoes. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“That's the name of our boat,” Blake said, with his eyes closed, and passed out cold.

Chapter 24

The phone rang interminably in Maxine's house the next
morning. It was ten o'clock, and it rang and rang and no one answered. Everyone was still sleeping. Sam finally heard it, and got out of bed to go answer it. There wasn't a sound in the house.

“Hello?” Sam said, still wearing his pajamas, as he yawned. They had all been up late, and he was tired. He didn't know where anyone else was, except he knew Daphne had had too much champagne the night before, but he had promised not to tell when she threw up when they got home.

“Hi, Sam.” It was Charles. He sounded wide awake. “Can I talk to your mom, please? I just want to say hello. I know she must be very busy before the wedding.” She had told him that she had someone coming to do her hair and makeup. And he was sure the house was a zoo. “Can you go get her? I'll only take a minute.” Sam put down the phone, and padded in his bare feet to her bedroom. He looked through the open door, and saw both his parents sound asleep with their clothes on. His father was snoring. He didn't want to wake them up, so he went back to the phone and picked up the receiver.

“They're still sleeping,” he announced firmly.

“They?” Charles knew it couldn't be Sam, since he was talking to him. So who was she sleeping with at this hour, on their wedding day? It made no sense to him.

“My dad's in there too. He's snoring,” Sam explained. “I'll tell her you called when she wakes up.” The phone clicked in Sam's ear before he hung up, and he went back upstairs to his room. Since no one else was awake, he didn't see why he had to get ready yet. He turned on the TV, and for once, he couldn't even hear Zellie's baby. It sounded like everyone was dead.

The hairdresser and makeup artist arrived promptly at ten-thirty. Zelda let them in, realized what time it was, and went to wake Maxine up. Zelda was surprised to see Blake sleeping beside her. But she could figure out what had happened. They both had their clothes on. They must have gotten drunk off their asses the night before. She poked Max gently on the shoulder, and after half a dozen attempts, she finally stirred, and looked up at Zelda with a moan. She closed her eyes immediately and clutched her head with both hands. Blake was still sound asleep beside her, and was snoring like a bulldog.

“Oh my God,” Maxine said, squeezing her eyes closed against the light. “Oh my God …I have a brain tumor and I'm dying.”

“I think it could be the champagne,” Zelda said quietly, trying not to laugh at her.

“Stop shouting!” Maxine said, with her eyes closed.

“You're in bad shape,” Zelda confirmed to her. “Your hairdresser and makeup person are here. What should I tell them?”

“I don't need a hairdresser,” she said, trying to sit up. “I need a brain surgeon … oh my God,” she said, looking down at Blake. “What's he doing here?” And then she remembered. She looked at Zelda then in amazement.

“I think you're okay. You're both dressed.”

Maxine poked him then, and shook him awake. He stirred, and moaned just as she had.

“Maybe it's an epidemic of brain tumors,” Zelda suggested, as Blake opened his eyes and looked at both of them with a grin.

“I've been kidnapped. Hi, Zellie. How come your baby's not screaming?”

“I think he wore himself out. What can I get you both?”

“A doctor,” Maxine said. “No … shit … don't even think it. If Charles saw us, he'd kill me.”

“He doesn't have to know,” Zelda said firmly. “It's none of his business. You're not his wife yet.”

“And I never will be, if he hears about this,” Maxine moaned. Blake was beginning to think that wasn't such a bad idea. He stood up then, testing his sea legs, straightened his tie, and walked unsteadily toward the door.

“I'll go home,” he said, as though that was a revolutionary concept.

“Drink a lot of coffee when you do,” Zelda suggested. They both still looked drunk to her, or had the worst hangovers she'd ever seen. “How much did you two drink anyway?” Zelda asked Maxine as they heard the front door close behind Blake.

“A lot. Champagne always kills me,” Maxine said as she crawled off the bed, just as Sam came into the room to find her.

“Where's Daddy?” he asked, looking at his mom. She looked a lot worse than Daphne, who was hung over too.

“He went home.” Maxine tiptoed across the room as fireworks went off in her head. It was a repeat performance of last night, but not nearly as pretty.

“Charles called you,” Sam announced, and his mother stopped dead in her tracks and looked like she'd been shot.

“What did you tell him?” she said hoarsely.

“I said you were asleep.” She closed her eyes in relief. She didn't dare ask him if he'd mentioned his father. “He said he was just calling to say hello and he'd see you at the wedding, or something like that.”

“I can't call him. I'm too sick. He'll know I got drunk last night, and then he'll worry.”

“You'll see him at the wedding,” Zelda said. “You're a mess. We have to get you going. Take a shower, I'll get some coffee.”

“Good … yes … that's a very good idea.” She got in the shower, and it felt like knives on her skin.

While she was in the shower, Zelda ran upstairs to wake the kids. Daphne looked almost as bad as her mother, and Zelda scolded her and promised not to tell. And Jack got out of bed, and ran downstairs for breakfast. He was fine. He had only had one glass of champagne, and soda the rest of the night, which saved him from a fate like his sister's.

Zelda poured two cups of coffee into Maxine, and scrambled eggs, under protest. She handed her two aspirin with the coffee, and the hairdresser went to work on her in the kitchen. Even having her makeup put on was painful, and having her hair done was worse. But she had to. She couldn't wear a ponytail and no makeup to her wedding.

Within half an hour, Maxine had her makeup on, and she looked better than ever. She felt awful, but it didn't show. The woman had done a good job, and Maxine's face was glowing. The hairdresser had swept her hair up in a simple French twist, and put a small row of pearls in it. Maxine could hardly move as she got up, and there were razor blades piercing her eyeballs every time she faced the sunlight.

“I swear, Zellie, I'm dying,” she said, closing her eyes for a minute.

“You're gonna be fine,” Zelda reassured her, as Daphne came downstairs, pale, but with her hair combed neatly and lip gloss on, which was all her mother would allow her. Maxine was too sick to notice that Daphne was also hung over, and Sam didn't say a word, nor did Zellie.

At twenty to twelve, all the children, including Daphne, were dressed. Zelda had made Daphne put the lavender dress on, with the threat that she'd tell she'd gotten drunk if she didn't. It worked. Then Zelda went to get Maxine's dress and shoes, while Maxine herself stood looking like a lame horse in the kitchen, with her eyes closed.

Maxine slipped into the shoes and let Zelda help her with the dress. She zipped her up and tied the sash, and her children gasped when they saw her. She looked like a fairy princess.

“You look really pretty, Mom,” Daphne said, and meant it.

“Thank you. I feel like shit. I think I have the flu.”

“You and Daddy got drunk last night,” Sam said, giggling, as his mother gave him an evil look.

“Don't you tell anyone that. Especially not Charles.”

“I promise.” He didn't even remember that he had told Charles his father was snoring.

The cars were waiting for them outside, and a minute later Zelda came back in a red silk dress, black patent leather shoes, and she was carrying her baby. He was starting to stir, but he wasn't crying yet. Maxine knew that if he did, it would split her head in two, and she silently begged him not to. They were meeting her parents and Blake at the church. Charles would be waiting for her at the altar. Suddenly, mostly due to her extreme hangover, she assumed, the thought of a church service and a wedding made her feel slightly sick.

There was a car for Zellie and the children, and another one for her. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes on the way to the church. It was the worst hangover she had ever had. She was convinced that God was punishing her because Blake had spent the night. That wasn't supposed to happen. But at least nothing else had.

The limousine she was in pulled up behind the church at five to twelve. And the one with the children was right behind her. They had made it. Maxine walked as steadily as she could into the rectory, and her parents were waiting for her there. Blake was supposed to come and get the children before the service, and he walked in right behind her. He looked worse than she did. They looked like a matched set. Two sorry drunks the next day. She smiled at him painfully, and he laughed at her, and kissed her on the forehead.

“You look gorgeous, Max. But you're a mess.”

“Yeah, you too.” She was happy to see him.

“I'm sorry about last night,” he whispered to her. “I shouldn't have let you have the last of the champagne.”

“Don't worry, I did it to myself. I think I wanted to get drunk.” Her parents were listening with interest to the exchange, just as the rectory door flew wide, and Charles stormed in. He looked at all of them with wild eyes and then at Maxine in her wedding gown. He wasn't supposed to see her. He was supposed to be at the altar. As he glared at her, the florist handed her her bouquet and tried to pin a tiny orchid on Charles's lapel. He brushed him away.

“You were with him last night, weren't you?!” he shouted at Maxine, pointing at Blake. And at the sound of it, she clutched her head.

“Oh God, don't scream!”

Charles looked from her to Blake and realized how hung over she was. He had never seen her that way.

“I had too much to drink, and he fell asleep,” she explained. “Nothing happened.”

“I don't believe a word of it!” he said, glaring at her. “You're lunatics, all of you. You two act like you're still married. Your children are brats. Crack babies, yachts, bimbos. You're sickos, all of you. And I'm not marrying you, Maxine. You couldn't pay me to marry into this family. And I'm sure you've been sleeping with him all along.” As he said it, Maxine burst into tears, and before she could answer him, Blake took a step forward and grabbed Charles by the lapels of his khaki suit and lifted him right off the ground.

“That's my wife you're talking to, you uptight son of a bitch. And those are my children you just called brats! And let me tell you something, asshole. She wouldn't marry you on a fucking bet. You're not good enough to shine her shoes, so get your sorry ass out of our sight.” He threw Charles toward the door then, and Charles turned around and left at a dead run, as Maxine stared at Blake.

“Shit, now what am I going to do?”

“Did you want to marry him?” Blake asked her with a worried look, and she shook her head, although it almost killed her to do so.

“No, I didn't. I figured that out last night.”

“Not a minute too soon,” Blake said as the children suddenly cheered. It was the first time they had ever seen their dad in action, and they loved the way he had made Charles run away. As far as they were concerned, it was about time.