Too Little, Too Late (22 page)

“No,” Eve replied. “I’m just saying that maybe you were mistaken.”

“That’s just great.” Karen’s stared at her mother with wounded eyes. “My own mother doesn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Eve argued. “But if she was trying to put something in the mailbox, where is it?”

“I don’t know, okay?”

“Better yet, let’s go with the theory that she took something
out
of your grandmother’s mailbox. What was it and where is it? The police didn’t find anything on the woman when they examined her.”

“How the hell should I know?” Karen yelled at her.

Eve took a deep calming breath. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” was her daughter’s sullen response.

“How about a game of poker?” Kate offered. They had been known to play for hours at a time.

“I’m not in the mood,” Karen told her before turning back to her mother. “Thank God you believe me about the car, at least. Without those stupid skid marks on the road, you probably would’ve thought I was making that up, too.”

“You’re being ridiculous!” Eve snapped back.

“Am I?” Karen asked her.

Eve put down the head of lettuce she’d been washing and stared at her daughter. “I believe you tried to help that woman and I believe someone ran her over. Okay?”

“Then let me tell my story on
Letterman
,” Karen implored eagerly.

Eve stared at her daughter in disbelief. “So,
that’s
what this is about? You want to go on
Letterman
?”

“It doesn’t have to be
Letterman
,” Karen quickly told her. “I can always do
Entertainment Tonight
or
Access Hollywood
. Take your pick.”

“I pick nothing!” Eve shook her head vehemently before throwing down the knife she’d been holding. “So forget about it, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay!” Karen argued. “You saw what it was like when we left the police station. There were cameras everywhere! Everybody wants to know my side of the story. Why won’t you let me tell them?”

“Because they don’t care about the victim of the hit and run,” Eve tried to explain. “What they care about is exploiting the fact that I was once famous, your grandmother was once famous, you’re my daughter, and now this has happened. If any of those shows were genuinely interested what happened, then why did they want to interview me and your grandmother as well?”

“Oh my God, Mom!” Karen shrieked angrily. “For once in your life, get over yourself. This isn’t about you, it’s about me!” She ran over to the front window and lifted the slats of the plantation shutters. “Do you really think all those people camped out on our street give a shit that you used to be on some stupid TV show way back when?”

“Do you honestly think they’d give a shit if you were just anybody’s kid?” Eve hit back. “Don’t fool yourself, even for a minute. You’d be a five second story on the six o’clock news. But the fact that you come from a showbiz family makes it a hot story.” Eve stared with distaste at the hoard of paparazzi camped out on the street in front of her house. “Those people are going to squeeze every last ounce of juice from this story while they can.”

“So you’re going to keep me locked up in this house like a virtual prisoner just because you’re hung up on yourself?” she asked incredulously.

“Stop trying to twist things around,” Eve told her. “If I were you, I’d spend a little less time worrying about your public image and a lot more time being remorseful over what happened.”

Karen’s eyes filled with tears. “Sometimes, Mom, you’re too much!” With that, she ran out of the room in tears.

Eve was left propped against the kitchen sink, with her head in her hands. “Whatever happened to the nice kid we raised?”

“She’s still a nice kid,” Kate told her, “but right now, she’s just confused. Once all the excitement dies down, I have a feeling she’ll come around.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Eve began shredding the head of lettuce in frustration. “She’s been hanging around with that druggie behind my back not to mention that twenty-year-old who’s supposed to be her boyfriend.” She gave up and threw the rest of the lettuce in the sink. “It’s like I suddenly have no idea who my kid is anymore.”

“Every kid goes through growing pains.”

“Growing pains are one thing but this is a full-blown rebellion ever since Eric and I split up.” Eve slumped into the nearest chair. “And now, a woman is dead and all Karen’s worried about is going on
Letterman
.”

***

Karen was heading towards English class on Wednesday afternoon when she heard Ashley calling out her name. She kept right on walking.

“Would you wait up!” Ashley finally caught up with her. “What’s your rush?”

Karen gave her a frosty look. “What do you want?”

“Why haven’t you called me?”

“I did call,” she pointed out. “Remember that little screamfest we had over the phone after Josh’s party?”

“I was just pissed about my nose,” Ashley explained.

Karen glanced at her friend’s face. “So, how is it?” she asked grudgingly.

“Nothing that another trip to my nose guy couldn’t fix,” Ashley told her airily.

“I’m still pissed at you anyway.”

“Whatever.” Ashley inspected her nails. “I can’t believe you’d be willing to give up our friendship over what happened at Josh’s party.”

“You don’t deserve my friendship.”

“I just don’t get why you had to invite that slut, is all,” her friend retorted. “She was way out of her league.”

“Why do you care?” Karen asked. “She’s
my
friend.”

“You need to pick better friends,” Ashley snapped.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Karen started walking away.

“Wait!” Ashley caught up with her. “Do you want to hang after school?”

Karen looked at Ashley in amazement. There was no such thing as rejection in Ashley’s vocabulary. “I can’t. I’m grounded.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“The way my parents are acting, I may as well have driven the damn car that killed the woman,” she remarked bitterly. “My mom is really pissed about all the publicity and shit.”

“Then I guess she’s not going to like what I have to show you,” Ashley told her.

“What are you talking about?” Karen asked suspiciously.

“This.” Ashley opened her binder and took out a folded newspaper. “I picked this up last night.”

“What is it?” Karen asked.

“Just look at the front page, idiot!”

Karen unfolded the paper. “Aw, shit!” It was
Truth or Diss
, one of the tabloid rags sold at supermarket checkout lines. The headline screamed, “WILD CHILD OF AMERICA’S TEENAGE SWEETHEART OUT OF CONTROL!” Underneath the headline were two pictures of Karen, one where she was leaving Hollywood Division, and the other where she was caught in the middle of the fight between Ashley and Laurie at Josh’s party. Karen groaned as she scanned the article on page nine. “My mother’s going to go ballistic when she finds out about this.”

“Don’t tell her,” was Ashley’s immediate response.

Karen gave her a look of disbelief. “Like you honestly think she’s not going to find out.”

“Just make sure you’re not around when she does,” was Ashley’s advice.

“You know what?” Karen turned and started walking back to her locker.

“What?” asked Ashley, trying to keep up with her.

“Since my mother’s already going to be pissed at me when she sees the paper, I say screw third period. Let’s go get our nails done.”

“How about dumping third
and
fourth so we can get facials while we’re at it,” suggested Ashley.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go!”

It felt good being friends with Ashley again.

Liz came out of her stupor long enough to realize that someone was knocking on her front door. She didn’t have any intention of answering it. After a few minutes, the knocking became more insistent so she grabbed a pillow and threw it over her head to muffle the noise.

“Liz, I know you’re in there.”

There was no mistaking Otis’ voice. “Go away!”

Thankfully, he must have decided to leave because there was only silence after that. She was about to slide back into her stupor when the pillow covering her head was yanked off and thrown to one side. Liz visibly winced when Otis turned on her overhead light, blinded by the intensity of the glare.

“Shut off that stupid light!” she ordered. “You’re hurting my eyes.” She grabbed the edges of her comforter and threw it over her face to block out the light.

“Too damn bad!” With one swift jerk, he yanked the comforter down to her waist. “At least I know you’re still alive.”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” she muttered, “so get the hell out!”

“Nothing doing,” he told her firmly. “You’ve been holed up in this place way too long.”

“I took a leave of absence,” she told him shortly. “I’m entitled.”

“You’re entitled to grieve, kiddo, not turn into a drunken Garbo.” He grimly eyed the empty vodka bottle that had fallen to the floor.

“You’re not my shrink,” Liz shot back. A sledgehammer was pounding somewhere in the neighborhood of her brain, making it impossible for her to do much of anything let alone argue. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Instead of answering her, he went over to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. California sunshine flooded the small bedroom, causing Liz to groan in misery as she covered her eyes with her hands.

“Look,” she tried reasoning with him. “I promise I’ll get up soon. I just need a bit more time, okay?”

“No way,” Otis replied firmly. “First, you’re going to go have a shower—”

“--I don’t need a shower,” she told him belligerently.

He wrinkled his nose delicately. “That’s a matter of opinion. Believe me, the dried puke and oily hair ain’t gonna get any of
my
juices flowing.”

“Screw you,” she told him.

“And after that, you can get your scrawny butt into the kitchen so I can feed you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“What a surprise,” he replied sarcastically. “We’ll give it a shot anyway.” He pulled her cover all the way down her bed. “Now, are you getting up or do I need to put you in the shower myself?”

“All right, all right!” she bit out angrily as she sat up. The room immediately started spinning and she grabbed onto Otis’ arm until it stopped.

“Are you all right?” he asked, frowning in concern. “Try standing up – don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Liz muttered.

“When was the last time you actually ate something?”

Her brows furrowed together. “I’m not sure. Maybe a few days ago.”

“It’s a wonder you can stand at all.” He waited until she was upright before he let her go. “Are you sure you can manage in the shower by yourself?”

“If that’s your subtle way of trying to score an invite, you can forget it,” she snapped at him with some of her old spirit before closing the bathroom door firmly behind her.

Half an hour later, Liz had to admit she felt almost human after her shower. And Otis had been right. She
had
looked a sight with her gaunt features and unkempt oily hair. Wearing a clean pair of pajamas and a fresh robe, she silently made her way to the kitchen, surprised to find Otis the epitome of domesticity as he sliced a fresh baguette. There were two steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup already on the table as well as some sliced melon. He looked up from his task when he saw her.

“You certainly look better,” he remarked before making an exaggerated show of sniffing the air. “And you smell better, too.”

“Shut up,” she told him, managing a small smile. “Where did all this food come from?” Liz asked, pointing to the bread and sliced melon.

“I brought it with me.”

She looked at Otis in surprise. “You?”

“Of course, me,” he told her. “I do know how to shop, you know.”

“I’ve just never seen you do it.”

“It’s one of life’s great mysteries.” He nodded in the general direction of the table. “Now sit down and eat before you keel over.”

Liz obediently sat down and started spooning hot soup into her mouth. The first few mouthfuls tasted strange but then her taste buds acclimatized. Otis didn’t say much as he munched his way through four slices of baguette and finished off his own soup, all the while watching her like a hawk.

“Thanks, Otis,” she told him, pushing back her empty bowl. “I guess I probably needed that.”

“That, and a whole lotta loving,” he replied gruffly. Changing the subject, he pointed to the beautiful urn on the small sideboard beside Liz’s dining room table. “Nice piece. Is it new?”

“You could say that.” Liz looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s got Mom’s ashes in it.”

“You had her cremated?”

“Since our relationship never did cover things like a last will and testament, I figured I’d have her cremated so she could be with me all the time.”

“Kind of like the opposite of when she was alive, right?”

“Something like that.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Want to talk about it?”

“About what?” she asked him, her voice flat. “How the coroner ruled that Mom died of a broken neck or about the anonymous donation in her name?”

“Any idea where the money came from?” he asked curiously.

“Where do you think?” There was no mistaking the look of contempt on her face. “It was nothing but blood money to ease someone’s guilty conscience, that’s all.”

“Still,” he reproached her, “you should’ve taken it.”

Liz looked at her friend sheepishly. “Of course I took it. It may have been blood money but I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Do you think that girl could’ve been telling the truth?” he asked.

“What does it matter?” she replied bitterly. “The point is that bitch and her friends provoked my mother until she had no choice but to run. That makes them just as guilty as the psycho who actually ran her over.”

“You should see some of the press that chick’s been getting,” Otis told her in amazement, “all because her mother was in some TV show a long time ago. It’s fucking unbelievable.”