Lost in Las Vegas (19 page)

She found some ginger ale, which she diluted with water and took back to the bathroom. Taylor was sitting on the toilet lid now, her head bent down and hair straggling all over. DJ found a barrette and managed to pull back some of the wild hair. Then she ran cool water over a washcloth, squeezed it, then handed it to Taylor. Taylor sighed and used the cloth to wipe off her face. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“Here,” said DJ. “Maybe you can drink a little of this. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

Taylor took the drink, studied it, then took a cautious swig and looked up with what seemed like tears in her eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?”

DJ smiled. “It’s Christmas.”

Taylor just nodded and took another small sip.

“Can I get you anything else?” offered DJ.

“A replacement for my head?”

DJ suppressed a laugh. Actually, that sounded like a good idea. “I’m going to get dressed. Yell, if you need something.”

“I won’t be yelling.”

By the time DJ was dressed, Taylor had managed to make her way back to the bedroom, landing in her own bed this time. Still in her underwear, she was shivering now. DJ retrieved the comforter and placed it over her.

“My head is on fire,” muttered Taylor.

So DJ went back for the cool washcloth and placed it on Taylor’s forehead. Then, noticing that Taylor had finished the soda, DJ went to fetch her another one.

“Is Taylor up?” asked Eva as DJ opened the fridge.

“She’s up . . . but not feeling too well.” DJ took the remaining portion of ginger ale and filled the glass.

Eva nodded sadly. “Hangover?”

DJ was only slightly surprised. “Yeah . . . I guess.”

Eva pressed her lips together, then turned away. DJ knew this must be hard on her. It was hard on everyone. And, okay, to be fair, it was hard on Taylor too. DJ took the soda back to the bedroom, but Taylor seemed to have fallen asleep again. So she set it on the bedside table and left.

“I do not know what to do about Taylor,” said Eva as DJ rejoined her on the sectional. “I had hoped that her moving to Connecticut would change this . . . this crazy behavior. But I’m afraid that Taylor is too much like her father.”

“Is he still at Betty Ford?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s out. He’s visiting his brother in Florida. And as far as I know, he’s doing okay. But it usually takes a few months before he falls off the wagon again.”

“Too bad.”

“Yes . . . terrible waste.”

It wasn’t long before their breakfast arrived and, as Eva promised, it was a feast. Eva turned on the TV, flipping around until she located an old Christmas movie that DJ had never seen before. And so they watched and ate. And although DJ stuffed herself, and Eva seemed to have a hearty appetite, there was still lots of food left over. So DJ packaged up what looked like it might keep and put the remains in the fridge. Who knew? Taylor might regain her appetite again.

“I know I must seem a party pooper,” said Eva, “but if you’ll excuse me, I think I will have a nap. I’m still worn out from last night.”

“I understand totally,” said DJ.

“You just make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.”

DJ decided to call Grandmother and wish her a Merry Christmas. She hadn’t spoken to her since arriving in Vegas. Grandmother sounded as if she was distracted, or perhaps she was on her way to the general’s, and so DJ cut the conversation short. Then she turned on the TV again and flipped channels until she found an old episode of Seinfeld that put her straight to sleep.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” said a female voice.

DJ opened her eyes, then blinked to see that Taylor was up and dressed and looking surprisingly well, considering the last time DJ had seen her.

“Merry Christmas.” Taylor pointed to DJ’s face. “Wipe that drool off your cheek, and let’s go get something to eat.”

DJ used the sleeve of her shirt to dry her cheek, then sat up. “What time is it anyway?”

“About four.”

“There’s food in the fridge.”

“I don’t want leftovers.” She grabbed DJ’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go get a bowl of soup or a salad or something.” Thinking it couldn’t be too risky to get soup in the middle of the day, DJ agreed. And once they were seated at the restaurant, Taylor actually apologized for getting wasted.

“You know, I didn’t really mean to do that. But things got out of hand.”

DJ pointed her spoon at her. “See, that’s what I was trying to warn you about.”

Taylor didn’t say anything, but she nodded as if considering this. After they ate, they walked around a bit and got coffees, but the hotel seemed deader than usual. Finally they went back to the suite, where Eva was just getting ready to head out for her show.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Eva said to Taylor, kissing her on the cheek. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

Taylor tossed DJ a look, then smiled at her mother. “I feel great. Have a good show.”

And when it was just the two of them, Taylor turned to DJ and scowled. “Did you tell my mom I was wasted?”

“I didn’t have to tell her anything.”

“But you didn’t cover for me?”

“How was I supposed to do that? Furthermore, why
should
I do that?”

“I thought you were my friend.”

DJ pressed her lips tightly together, holding in the angry words she wanted to shoot like bullets at Taylor. Who was Taylor to talk about friends? What kind of friend was she? But yelling at her would be pointless. Especially since she was now storming off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Merry Christmas!

18

“WHY ARE YOU DRESSED LIKE THAT?”
asked DJ when Taylor emerged about an hour later. She had on a short black skirt, tall boots, and a lacy pink top with a plunging neckline.

“Like what?” asked Taylor, doing a little turn like she thought she was on the runway.

“Like a hooker.”

Taylor scowled. “I don’t look like a hooker. I just look hot.”

“Why do you want to look hot?”

“Because I’m going out.”

Part of DJ was ready to barricade the door and put up her fists. She could probably take Taylor. But another part of her simply didn’t care. If Taylor wanted to ruin her life like this, why not let her. But instead of doing either of these things, DJ bowed her head and silently prayed.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Taylor as she grabbed up her bag. “Are you sick or something?”

DJ kept her head down. At least she’d gotten Taylor’s attention, even if it was only briefly.

“DJ?”

DJ kept her head down, praying fiercely now, asking God to do something — anything — to change this situation. As she was praying, tears started welling up in her eyes. DJ hated to cry — specially in front of someone like Taylor — but the tears were already escaping. Without looking up, DJ used her hands to wipe her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” asked Taylor, now sitting beside her on the sectional.

DJ looked up at Taylor. She had even more tears running down her face now, but suddenly it made no difference. “I
care
about you, Taylor. That’s what’s wrong. And then you go and say I’m not a good friend. I’m doing everything I can think of to be a good friend, and it’s like you just throw it back in my face.”

Taylor didn’t say anything.

“Who treats their friends like that, Taylor?”

Taylor looked uncomfortable, but she still kept her mouth shut.

“I don’t think you even know how to be a friend. Because no matter how hard I try, you push me away. You act like you want a friend, and then you rip the rug out from under me. All I want to know is . . .
why
?”

Taylor still wasn’t talking.

“I mean, you’re an intelligent person. And you can be pretty charming when you want to. You’re witty, and sometimes you even show a streak of kindness — occasionally — but then you take it all back. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You
have
to know. It’s like something is eating away inside of you. It’s like you
want
to self-destruct. And sometimes it seems like you want to take me along with you — like you think I might enjoy the ride. And I’m just not going there. Do you understand? My life is worth something to me. And maybe I’m not doing that great of a job at it, but I’m trying to be a Christian. And I think God has some better plans for me than getting wasted and ruined and destroyed. And I can’t believe you’d settle for that yourself, Taylor. You seem too smart to be like that. And yet you keep disappointing me.
Why?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course
,
I want to know!”

Taylor stood, and DJ felt pretty sure that was it. She was going to walk out — just like that. No big deal. Instead, she went to the kitchen and returned with a couple of sodas, handed one to DJ, then wiped the other one across her forehead like she still had a headache.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” DJ popped open the can. “And from what I can see, it’s going to be a long night.”

And so Taylor finally began to talk. She started by saying she used to be a fairly average girl. “Oh, I knew I was pretty smart. And my mom was a celebrity. But that wasn’t so special in the school I attended. It’s not like I really stood out that much. I mean, even being mixed racially wasn’t a big deal. Not really. For the most part I was pretty normal.”

DJ had difficulty envisioning Taylor as “normal.”

“I had a best friend.” Taylor took a swig. “Jessalyn Dougherty. We were closer than sisters from about second grade until middle school.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Jessalyn was so cool. I mean it’s like she was perfect.”

“No one is perfect.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t know her.”

“Okay, tell me about her. What made her perfect?”

“She was genuinely good. And kind. She was the kind of girl who would help anyone. She’d give away her lunch. Or she’d be nice to someone who was picked on. She was an honest-to-goodness . . . angel.”

DJ tried to imagine this. Taylor (devil girl) and an angel? Interesting.

“And then she got sick.”

“Sick?”

“Leukemia.”

“Oh.”

“The really bad kind.” Taylor took another long swig. “Her parents took her all over the country, trying to find help . . . but she died when she was just twelve.”

“I’m sorry.”

Taylor was crying now, and DJ was unsure what to do. Just the same, she reached her hand over and placed it on Taylor’s forearm. A small gesture, perhaps, but something.

“When Jessalyn died, it was like I died too. It’s like I couldn’t get over it. I mean, I knew that others were hurting too, but I was crushed . . . brokenhearted. My grandmother, as you know, was a strong Christian. She told me that Jessalyn was in heaven, but I didn’t want her to be in heaven. I wanted her to be with me. I needed her.”

“I know it’s hard to lose someone you love, Taylor. You get that I understand that, don’t you?”

Taylor nodded and sniffed. DJ went for a box of tissues — for both of them. Then she waited because it seemed there was more to this story.

“My grandmother tried to comfort me. She told me not to be mad at God. And I tried. But about the time I started high school, my grandmother died too — a stroke.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

She nodded. “And then I really did get angry at God. But I wasn’t really rebelling yet. Not like I would do later — like I’ve been doing now. By then my dad’s drinking was getting out of hand. I know it’s because he missed his mother and was probably having some big guilt trip. My mom was gone a lot because she was touring again. I was feeling pretty lost.”

DJ shook her head. “Wow, it’s like your whole world was crumbling.”

“But it gets worse.” Taylor reached for a fresh tissue. “After losing Jessalyn, I just couldn’t seem to make another real best friend. I mean, there were girls I hung with — some that had known Jessalyn too — but things started getting competitive in high school. The boys started paying more attention to me than before. Not that I was paying that much attention to them at that time. Then at the beginning of sophomore year, a girl named Ilsa befriended me. She’d been a casual friend of Jessalyn, and it almost seemed like our memories of Jessalyn had brought us together. I told her all kinds of things — about how depressed I’d been and everything. We got really close. And I began to feel better.”

DJ bit her lip, hoping that Taylor wasn’t about to tell her that Ilsa had been hit by a car or something. How much more could she take?

“Then Ilsa betrayed me.”

“She betrayed you?” DJ felt confused now. “How?”

“There was a guy named Cole who liked both Ilsa and me. Although I think he liked me more. But Ilsa was madly in love with Cole.”

“And?”

“Ilsa begged me to go out with this other guy — a senior named Brent. She said he was an old friend of hers . . . and I guess in a way, he was.”