The Leftover Club (29 page)

While they danced, Dylan once again swept me on the dance floor. “I’m sorry you lost,” I said as we swayed to “
Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now
.” Dylan merely shrugged.

“Bound to happen.
Can’t stay king of the mountain forever.” His eyes met mine. “Besides, it was never really about what a school full of strangers thought, anyway.”

I chuckled. “That’s easy to say when they always loved you.”

“It’s easy to say, period,” he assured. “None of this matters. In the end we all go our separate ways and fight our own path in the big bad world, win or lose. I’d really hate to think these were the best years of my life.” He glanced at Bryan. “Just look how quickly they end.”

And that was when it hit me. Dylan was Dylan Fenn no longer. Bryan had dethroned the most popular boy in school
, and I was too blinded by my devotion to Dylan to see it. I put my hand on his shoulder. “They’re not over, Dylan. Not by a long shot.” He looked unconvinced. “And hey, look at it this way. One day is better than none at all.”

He looked down at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged and looked away. “Look at me.”

“You mean the girl who landed the most popular boy in school?” he reminded and I rolled my eyes. “You think we’re so different,
Roni. But we’re both the same person, just different sides of the coin. You hide your light, afraid to be seen, afraid to be excellent, and I worry that people will see through the façade and see how ordinary I really am. Some of us hold onto the mask because that’s all we’ve got.”

“Dylan…,” I started but he cut me off.

“But you,” he said as he spun me around. “You are the real deal. Your best days are to come. I predict that you’ll come back to the high school reunion and be the envy of everyone who made your life hell.”

My eyebrow arched.
“Everyone?”

He grinned.
“Everyone. We’ll all be eating our hearts out over you, baby. I guarantee.”

“Then sign me up for the reunion,” I snickered.

“It’s a date,” he said as he hugged me close. “Ten years. Twenty years. Thirty years and beyond.”

I laughed. “You say that, but you’ll probably be married with ten kids by then.”

He shuddered. “God, bite your tongue,” he grinned and I laughed. “I’m a lone wolf. You know that. If either of us is married, it’ll be you.”

I chuckled and shook my head. I couldn’t imagine it. “Not likely.”

“Fine,” he said as he held me closer. “Then it’ll be just you and me. I hereby declare to be your date in ten years. In twenty years. In thirty years and beyond. You’re never getting rid of me.”

I got lost in those brown eyes.
“Truth?”

His eyes were dark and deep, like endless pools of melted chocolate.
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, Roni. Don’t you know that by now?”

For a split second, I thought maybe he was going to kiss me – just like at the White Dance years before. But his attention was divided when he glanced up at Bryan, who approached, ready to ditch Tiffany before she threw him in a broom closet to cement their regal new partnership.

“My queen,” Bryan pronounced as he got in earshot. “Please save me,” he whispered into the nape of my neck. I nodded and pulled away from Dylan, even though it was the very last thing I wanted to do.

And if I told him why, he’d have let me stay with Dylan. But I couldn’t leave my best friend hanging, not even for the promise of the hottest boy in class.

I said nothing to Bryan as we spun around the floor. A DJ played “
Footloose
,” which we were encouraged loudly to do. I didn’t get off that dance floor for at least a half-hour afterwards. The instant I did, I wanted to find Dylan, who had disappeared out of sight from the moment he transferred me to Bryan’s waiting arms.

It felt as though something important was happening, and for once I didn’t want to miss it. I wanted to find him, to talk to him, to ask him once and for all if he was serious when
he said all those flirty things, or if it was just my overactive imagination.

Was I really being leftover
on purpose, to save the best for last?

My question was answered when the broom closet opened and Tiffany stumbled out, with Dylan right behind her. Our eyes met briefly and he turned away. I spotted the hickey on his neck and the blush in his cheeks.

Though I never could imagine being Dylan’s date for the prom, catching him with a cheerleader before the night was over was entirely predictable.

“
You’re never getting rid of me
.”

Which was Dylan-code for “Until something new and shiny comes
along.”

I knew I had my answer. Dylan would always be Dylan, and I would always be the one who loved him best from afar.

I turned back to the dance floor, in search of the only boy at Hermosa Vista High I could be sure loved me as I was, Leftover and all.

“
Roni,” Dylan called, and I reluctantly looked back. I could tell by his bloodshot eyes that he had imbibed in the half-hour I had been gone.

“What?” I said with a sigh.

“Are you still going to the hotel?” he wanted to know.

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Of course,” he said, and I stole a glance at Tiffany, who freshened her makeup in her ever-present compact mirror.

“Of course,” I repeated.

Bryan called for me from the dance floor. They were playing Michael Jackson, and my righteous dance skills were required. I squared my shoulders and turned briefly back to Dylan. “Bry and I will probably want some time alone,” I said, knowing full well that Bryan wouldn’t want to keep up this charade all night in front of the fawning cheerleader.

In fact, he was probably itching to hit
Eleete, and by this time I was anxious to join him.

Dylan nodded as he pulled Tiffany close. “Have fun,” he said before they passed me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I said nothing as I watched them walk right out the door for the limo waiting outside.

June 20, 2008

It has been a long six months. Longer, possibly, than the thirty years I’ve spent loving Dylan Fenn my whole life.
I’ve lied to everyone, even myself. In the end, my romance with him went much like I expected it would. It caught fire quick, burned bright and then burned out before it could get too serious.

And I knew
that was what I could expect, that was why I had never allowed myself to indulge.

What can I say? Dylan Fenn is a hard man to ignore.

I guess that is why I’m sitting at my vanity, putting on my makeup and preparing for my 20-year reunion.

Obviously I wasn’t going to go. I told everyone I wasn’t going to go. When Bryan and Meghan conspired to purchase a dress for me, and make plans for a limo to pick me up from work, I wasn’t going to go. I proclaimed it loud and clear to everyone that I, Veronica Lawless, had no intention of going.

And I likely would have kept that promise had it not been for a near-catastrophic fight with my best friend just the day before yesterday, when he finally told me what kind of idiot he thought I was being.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be both a liar and a coward,” he told me as he squared off with me in my front room.
“But selfish too? That’s kind of the last straw, Miss Thing.”

I spun on him, incredulous. “How can you say that to me? Like you haven’t been here these last few months?”

He knew how I had virtually changed my life completely around. I quit my job by March, because I never wanted to see Dylan Fenn again. He had broken my heart, that was what we had all been waiting on, and it had happened. I no longer needed to bide time at some agency as a glorified personal assistant. Instead I moved Meghan and I back to Orange County got the hell out of show business and started to work as one of the business managers for a popular resort. It doubled my pay and the benefits were stupendous, not the least of which was no threat of ever running into Dylan again on a casual basis.

I made the same stipulation to my mother, telling her that her matchmaking days were over. It came as no surprise to either of the Moms when things went to shit. I think for Bonnie, I was her final hope. Now she was willing to let Dylan lead his own life, which, at the present, kept him busy in Hollywood.

As did his new – and public – romance with his costar, Emma Sterling. You couldn’t fling a dead cat in any direction in L.A. without running across some kind of promotion for their new film. They attended movie premieres and awards shows, arm in arm, with the same shining smiles.

According to Taylor, Dylan had even taken Emma to Big Bear for a springtime getaway with his dad.

I was sure he approved of the softer-spoken Emma after my last little scene.

It only proved my making the break as clean and as permanent as possible was the best idea for everyone, Dylan in particular.

If I had told him I was pregnant that day, he likely would have stayed in Los Angeles out of obligation and guilt, giving up on this movie and finding some “regular” job for the stable paycheck. I knew better than anyone that wasn’t the life that he had ever wanted for himself.

Now he only had himself to worry about.

As always.

As the months marched on, I sort of martyred myself. I was the one who sacrificed my happiness, letting him free before he could really disappoint me. After his quick rebound with Emma, I knew that he would never change, and I was foolish to expect him to.

I relived every moment of our courtship, including the first frustrating twenty years, in an effort to prove to myself letting Dylan go without a fight was the best thing. He wasn’t the marrying kind; he wasn’t the “forever” kind.

He was simply a romantic, who fell in love intense and often, to chase away all the demons his father had unknowingly planted.
He learned young that he never wanted anyone to see through the façade and leave him for something – anything – that he knew was better.

Still, knowing all this stuff and truly believing it are two different things.

In the end it doesn’t matter. Our lives connected and then drifted apart, like most of the people from high school.

I just never expected that to happen with Bryan and me.

“Yes, selfish,” he had quickly agreed. “And stupid besides.”

As I stood there, agape, he continued. “Do you know how many people would give anything so that the person they loved would love them back? It’s the slap in the face of every other Leftover.”

I chuckled. “You forget. They all got their chance.”

“I didn’t,” he reminded.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

He thought about that for a moment and then said, “What indeed.”

I was on his heels as he marched out of my house. “Where are you going?”

He spun to face me on the doorstep. “I’m going to go ask Dylan Fenn to be my date to the ball.”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving me speechless.

Was he serious? Clearly he couldn’t be serious. Dylan wasn’t gay. I didn’t even think he was bi.

When Olive phoned yesterday to ask if I would be her date to the reunion, I quickly shot her down. But she suggested I might not want to miss it. That Dylan and Bryan were going to have all sorts of tongues wagging this year.

“You’re not serious,” I breathed.

“Stranger things have happened,” she said, in a roundabout way reminding me of what happened between us. “He told him about the club, Roni. Dylan knows everything.”

“Everything?”
I squeaked.

“Everything,” she repeated.

So here I am, preparing for my reunion, waiting for my date to come around in the limo.

I glance into the mirror, where I can see my daughter fussing with my hair. “Give up. It’s a lost cause.”

She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Why do you make things so much harder than they have to be? You’re beautiful. Show it off.”

I study my reflection. My hair is shorter, swinging free around my shoulders. It was Meghan’s idea. She found it in a hairstyling magazine and thought it might make me feel young again, since everything that was happening in 2008 was destined to make me feel ancient.

She bends down to apply my eye shadow. It’s a coppery mix she swears will bring out my eyes. “Taylor loves it on me,” she grins.

“Taylor loves everything on you,” I say.

Theirs is a good relationship. They are both solid kids with a strong sense of self and ambitions for the future. Best of all, they live more than 80 miles from each other, so they are forced to conduct most of their relationship courtesy of phone calls and texts.

However
we did have a recent, candid and necessary discussion about birth control. She started the pill the beginning of May, with my blessing to decide for herself when she’d be ready to take their relationship to the next level.

I could hardly judge her on that.

I glance over the navy blue chiffon dress draped over my softened curves. It was a lovely dress handpicked by my personal stylists, whom I affectionately dubbed Bry-ghan, but I still felt as big as a house. It is a far cry from the size-8 number I wore ten years ago. And I know damned well everyone is going to notice. I sigh and Meghan swats my shoulder.

“What was that for?”

“I know what you’re thinking. You look great. Now shut up.”

Olive arrives ten before seven, decked out in a pinstriped tuxedo with a silk maroon shirt and sparkly black bow tie, topped off with a Fedora over her short cropped hair. She carries one red rose in her hand, which she offers.
“My lady.”

“Oh my God,” I groan. “Look at you! You know what people are going to think.”

“Yes, I do,” she grins. “And I could give less than a fuck. And so could you. Besides. I hear Bryan is coming in drag.”

“What?” I squeak.

“Come on,” she says.

I turn desperately to my daughter. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I ask again as Olive pulls me from the doorway with one hand. “You could film it all and put it on YouTube. It’d be fun!”

Meghan follows us out onto the sidewalk, waving. “Bye, Mom. Have fun! Love you!”

I sink down into the seat in the limo. “Is there champagne at least?” I ask and Olive delivers a stern look. “You’re doing this straight,” she said.
“So to speak.” She pops a kiss on my nose before honking my breast for good measure. “By the way, you look beautiful. Save the last dance for me.”

“You’re hilarious,” I say.

“I know,” she replies.

I contemplate bribing the driver to turn us back around the entire way to the venue, which is once again off the coast in Newport Beach.
Like I need any reminders of the last one. I can barely breathe by the time we reach the resort and step out of the car. “I’m going to vomit,” I tell Olive.

“I brought barf bags,” she assures.

From the moment I step out of the car, I feel exposed. I know everyone is staring, and I’m petrified at the thought of coming face to face with Dylan again. I’m not ready to see him again. In fact, it’s on my to-do list of one to avoid him at all costs. Every step I take is vulnerable and I know it. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the elevator closes behind us.

“Baby steps,” Olive encourages with a gentle pat.

When the elevator opens again, we walk a few feet to the ballroom where the reunion is being held. We pick up our tags, and I realize that both Dylan’s and Bryan’s are still flat on the table. They’re not here yet. This is good news.

Olive leads me over to the bar and orders me a cranberry fizz. I nearly wrestle her for her Cosmopolitan but she is firm. No alcohol. She won’t even let me eat the sushi appetizers. Instead I snack on crackers to keep the bile from rising in my stomach.

I’m a nervous wreck as I spot a blonde making a beeline for us at the bar.

It’s
Charlie
Charlotte, only she doesn’t look like a Spice Girl anymore. She has gained back about thirty of her hundred pounds, which rounds her out into a more matronly figure. She’s soft as I hug her. “Look at you!” she squeals. “You look amazing.”

“You too.”

She laughs. “Yeah, right. What I wouldn’t give to look like I looked ten years ago!” She sighs. “But I had twin boys three years ago, so you know how that goes.” She waves over a studious man she introduces as Lionel. He is tall and thin, with dark rimmed glasses and skin the color of caramel. “This is my husband.”

He takes my hand in his for a gentle kiss. “Charlie has told me so much about you,” he says.

I look down at her with an arched eyebrow. “Charlie?”

She shrugs. “You can’t run from who you are
, can you? I’ll always be Charlie. It took meeting Li to see that there was nothing in the world wrong with that.”

Olive approaches and Charlie squeals. “Olive, is that you?!”

Olive nods and they embrace. “You look amazing, Mama,” she compliments and Charlie marvels at the changes in our mutual friend.

“So do you! I’ve followed your career online. Li even bought us a print for our anniversary.
Hangs right in our living room.”

“No shit,” Olive says and we all laugh. “I think that deserves a spin around the dance floor.” She holds her hand out to Lionel.
“I’ll let you lead.”

He chuckles and they disappear, so I turn back to Charlie, who has now turned serious. “I’m glad I got to see you again,
Roni. I felt just awful about how things ended last time around.”

I scrunch my brow. “What do you mean?”

She takes another big sip of her champagne cocktail. “I lied to you,” she confesses in a tiny voice.

“About what?”

“About Dylan.”

That has my attention.
“How so?”

“We didn’t sleep together,
Roni. I mean, not for lack of trying but he just wasn’t interested in me. He flirted, but I think it was to make you jealous or piss of your husband… or… who knows? Anyway the minute we left the hotel, he took me straight home. I got nothing more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye.”

I am puzzled. “So why did you lie?”

She sighed again. “When I went to that first reunion, I had a lot to prove. I didn’t want to be Fat Charlie anymore. I wanted to be the belle of the ball, the star of the show. We spent so many years being picked on for being different, I just wanted to show ‘em all.”

“I get that. But why lie to me?”

“Why? Because you weren’t a phony like me. You had the husband, the job, the money, the kid. You’d done it all, Roni. I was so jealous of you I had to get the one thing you couldn’t. And it was clear Dylan was crazy about you. He couldn’t stop asking about you all the way to my apartment. He wanted to know if you were happy.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said that you married well and had a rich man to take care of you. Why wouldn’t you be?” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I was still Charlie deep down, accepting way less than I deserved because I thought I deserved it. The only rich men I could land were men who were already married, who wanted to keep me on the side like a toy.” She takes an even bigger breath. “I slept with Wade, Roni. I’m sorry.”