Can't Let You Go (9 page)

“Then what are you going to do? You have too much talent to waste it here.” Maxine tapped irritated fingers on the armrest.

“Maybe I’ll go to Vegas and be a show girl like you were.”

“Look, Sweet Pea, I’m being for real here. What’s the plan?”

I turned the corner a little too sharply, sending Maxine leaning a hard right into her door. She grabbed the overhead handle and shot me a look that would scare misbehaving children and men with any sense about them.

“I said, what’s the—”

“When Delores leaves, I plan to take over the Valiant.” I had already informed James of my idea, and while he wasn’t happy I was abandoning acting, he knew I would take care of the Valiant better than anyone else.

“And if it’s not saved from the chopping block?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have no idea, okay? It’s not like I knew I’d already need a career change at twenty-three.”

“Then don’t change. Or at least not ’til you have a good reason to.”

“Do you want to know how I got the role of Beatrice?”

“A sassy, smart-mouthed heroine who shoots one-liners like arrows? Can’t imagine why they’d cast you.”

“I got it because the director liked me.” Note to self,
never date your boss again
.

“Well, of course he did. You’re a brilliant actress.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Though Maxine’s version made for a much nicer story.

“I don’t know what happened in London,” Maxine said, her voice gentling, “but your incredible gift got you to London in the first place. You were all but plucked from obscurity at that college. How many kids graduated from your university and were invited to work in London?”

“One.”

“And how many from the entire state of Texas?”

“One.”

“Remind me what her name was?”

I sighed as I switched lanes. “Katie.”

“See. End of story. You need to go on that audition and show them what you’ve got. Your acting career isn’t over. It’s just taking a new direction. And maybe that direction is New York.”

“I’m not going on the audition.”

“Fine.” Maxine cranked up the radio volume. “I’ll go in your place.”

*

Diamond’s Bridal sat
on the corner of Twelfth Street and Main in a town called Newman, one hour and five Golden Arches down the highway. Traditional red bricks made up the outside of the shop, but inside was a harem of lace and satin, ivory and white, sequins and tulle.

Frances’s mother, Maxine, and I perched on pink pin-striped chairs, sipping sparkling water in wine glasses and waiting for Frances to resurface. We had already watched her model six dresses, and by now they all looked the same. If Frances had liked the dress, her mother had not. Dresses her mother adored, Frances couldn’t stand. And Maxine? Well, I was pretty sure Maxine had swapped her sparkling water for the vino at least four dresses ago.

“I guess this engagement took you by surprise?” I asked Mrs. Vega. “So sudden and all.” Maybe if Frances’s mother and I tag-teamed, we could talk some sense into the bride-to-be.

“It was quite unexpected.” Mrs. Vega didn’t take her eyes off the dressing room door.

“I’m sure you’d feel better if they waited a bit. Took some time to really get to know one another.”

“Mmm.” Her monosyllabic sound of agreement did not provide much information. “Frances, are you coming out any time soon?” Mrs. Vega checked the gold watch on her wrist.

“If she stays in there much longer, they’re gonna charge her rent.” Maxine tapped a red fingernail to her glass. “Where’s that waitress?”

“This isn’t Applebee’s.” I snatched that flute right out of her hands.

“Come on, girl,” Maxine called toward the door. “I’m fossilizing out here.”

“Get ready!” Frances yelled back. “I think you’re going to love this one.”

The dressing room door creaked open, and Frances walked to the mini runway that led to a three-way mirror so big if we aimed it at the sun, we’d light the whole town on fire. Frances wore a strapless, fitted gown of antique ivory lace. It gaped at the top and ballooned at the bottom.

Her mother pushed her glasses up her nose, much like Frances always did when needing a closer inspection. “What’s that style?”

Frances turned in a circle. “It’s called fit and flare.”

Maxine’s lip curled. “You need to burn that flare.”

“I don’t like it,” Mrs. Vega said. “Too much cleavage, not enough bling.”

“Yeah.” Maxine waved her hand toward the dress. “You gotta pimp that thing out. Get some sparkle. Some razzle dazzle.”

I nudged my grandmother. “You said you’d sit quietly. That was our deal.”

“I want to renegotiate our terms.”

I knew I should’ve dropped Maxine off at the Dairy Barn. “You’re not helping.”

“No,” Frances said. “She’s right. And my mother’s right. This dress doesn’t work. None of them have.” She turned to face the mirror. “Something’s missing with all these gowns.”

“I bet the winter collection is worth waiting for.”

“Subtle,” Maxine whispered. “Really subtle.”

“You could wear my dress,” Mrs. Vega suggested. “We could get it altered this week.”

“Your dress hasn’t been in style since frosty blue eye shadow and acid-washed jeans.” Frances’s shoulders drooped and she stepped away from the mirrors. “I’m sorry. I’m projecting my wedding stress onto you all. When I see the right one, I’ll know it. But so far, these are all very vanilla. I’m wanting—”

“Cherry chip mocha with hot fudge, butterscotch, peanut butter, toasted pecans, whipped cream, and extra sprinkles?” Maxine looked at each of our blank faces. “I guess that’s just me.”

Frances lifted her skirt above her heels and shuffled back into the dressing room.

“How is Mr. Vega taking this?” I asked when Frances was out of ear-shot.

Her mother shook her head. “Not well. Frances is our first born, his baby girl. It’s hard. We’ve had to have a lot of talks about it.”

“I’m sure his concerns are understandable.”

Mrs. Vega smiled. “Her dad’s just having a difficult time letting her go. He thinks she should still be in pig tails and Hello Kitty.”

“Do you. . .” This was such a delicate matter, I wanted to tread carefully. “Do you think Frances and Joey should date a little longer?”

“Yes, but her father and I can’t say a word.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Mrs. Vega said dreamily, “Juan and I married on date number six.”

L
oneliness was a
funny thing.

It could flood your mind with memories, thoughts, and countless what-ifs.

It could also scatter all that away like a swift wind and leave you thinking of nothing but one person.

Tonight I was thinking of one person.

Charlie Benson.

I sat on the back deck of my parent’s home, missing them and unable to stay inside that quiet house one more minute. Listening to the crickets and the tree frogs, I stared into the dancing flames of James’s fire pit. It was too hot to be lighting fires, but the crackle and snap soothed my ragged nerves.

My feelings for Charlie made no sense. I had just broken up with my long-time boyfriend. Why wasn’t I sitting here moping over Ian? Yet I thought of him less and less with each passing day. I didn’t want to feel this Herculean tug toward Charlie, as if he held this magnet, pulling me in with a force I was helpless to stop. We had a history, so many moments as close friends and more. He had been my confidante in some of my life’s darkest hours. But he’d also wounded me more than once, throwing me over for someone better, prettier, girlier. I’d despised every one of those girls. And sure, I’d done the same to him at least once, but it wasn’t like I had a pattern of walking away, of seeking out blonder pastures.

Charlie Benson was a risk. Could I really believe that he had changed in the last few years? I didn’t even know what I wanted to be when I grew up. The last thing I needed was to get involved and complicate my life further.

“Is this a private bonfire or can anyone join?”

I jumped at the voice, my breath seizing in my chest. “Charlie.” I laid a hand over my galloping heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” With a sheepish grin he climbed the few stairs to join me. He eased his tall body into the seat beside me, his long legs stretching before him. “I’ve been calling you for a few hours. I was getting a little worried you were getting into trouble with Maxine now that your folks were gone.”

I leaned my head back on my chair and laughed. “She has a whole list of things for us to do now that I’m back in town. Some of them are even legal.” I picked up my phone and took it off mute. “I guess I still had the volume off from wedding dress shopping.”

“Find anything?”

“Frances didn’t.” I gave him the bare details of Frances’s dress travails, knowing the long version would just make his eyes glaze over. “We did find my bridesmaid dress.”

“Is it awful?”

“It’s actually pretty.” It was a bright coral full-length gown, Grecian-style, with a high waist, flowing skirt, and one wide strap that crossed my left shoulder. I really did like it, but Frances’s assurance I could wear it again was simply laughable. Nobody wore bridesmaid dresses again. They sat in closets and gathered dust and moth holes.

“I bet you look amazing in the dress,” Charlie said.

The boy did know how to turn a head. “Thank you. I guess this wedding is really happening.”

“Accept it.”

“I am trying.”

“My brother’s a good guy.”

“I’m sure he is. It’s just that it’s happened so fast, and nobody seems to be concerned about this.” My best friend was not frivolous or spontaneous. “And she’s about to start her PhD program.”

“And my brother works with cars.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not being a snob here. I’m the first one in my family to have a degree—high school or college. But her brain is not normal; you know that. She’s Mensa. She’s Jeopardy champ material. She wrote a college text book her sophomore year, for crying out loud.” And sixty universities used it. “I can barely keep up a conversation with her. Is your brother going to be a good conversation partner when she wants to dissect Middle Eastern religion’s role on global affairs?”

“Maybe what they have goes well beyond how good they might be on paper. So what if they don’t match up in education or even intellect. Have you been around them?”

Charlie knew the answer to that, so I didn’t bother to reply.

“Give Joey a chance,” he said. “He loves Frances. I know this.”

“Marriage is hard in the best of circumstances. I just don’t want to see her make a mistake.”

“Love’s a risk,” Charlie said. “But it’s theirs to take.”

I had taken a risk with Ian. And lost. And now I found myself regularly thinking about this dark headed Southern boy, as if my heart didn’t know I needed time to be still and dateless. Time to watch chick flicks, eat Cheetos, and disparage the male race.

Instead of spending time with the enemy.

“So what’s going to happen after the wedding?” Charlie asked.

“Frances and Joey go on their honeymoon?”

“I meant you. Are you really not going back to London?”

“No.” I didn’t know what I would do for a career, but I was certain it wouldn’t involve a return trip to the U.K.

“You’re just going to walk away from acting?”

“Yes,” I said. “No. I mean, I don’t know.” My brain was a Magic 8 ball, and all it kept coming up with was
reply hazy, try again
.

“And what are those?” Charlie gestured to the papers on the floor.

“It’s nothing.”

He reached over me, his chest heavy and warm on mine, and grabbed the stack. “What is this? They’re from New York.”

I managed to snatch a few back. The man had no boundaries.

Charlie held up a trade paper and read. “You have some auditions circled. Are you going?”

“No. My friend Caroline from college lives in New York. She sent them to me.”

“Because she knows you should go.”

“Because she enjoys harassing me like someone else I know.”

“You can’t give up on—”

“I came out here for some peace, Charlie.” I pulled the rest of the papers from his hand and tossed it on the ground. “I don’t want to talk about my job plans.”