Remember When 2 (14 page)

   “You still haven’t seen her?”

   “No. And I really don’t care if I ever do. And that’s the truth, I swear.”

   I didn’t know where the big rant had come from. Something about seeing Trip as the teenage boy I once knew just opened up
all
the old wounds. Besides, he was always a really good listener.

   It was definitely time to change the subject. I took a cleansing breath and switched gears. “So… Sandy... is she your publicist or your assistant?”

   Trip was still looking at me cautiously, his eyes brimming with a compassion I didn’t want to acknowledge. After a moment, he splayed his hand palm-side-up on the bed, and I slipped mine back into it. It was enough.

   “Both, actually,” he answered.

   “Seems like an uncommon arrangement.”

   “It is. But there aren’t too many people I can trust out there, and Sandy was already my assistant when I realized I was going to need a publicist, too. It’s a position she’s more suited for and way more interested in. She offered to play double-duty until she can whip Hunter into shape to take over the assistant role.”

   He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, working out a kink and said, “Okay. Enough about my job. Tell me everything. How’s the old gang from St. Norman’s?”

   I was able to give a chuckle and answered, “Well, I already told you about Lisa and Pick… Let’s see… Cooper is still down in Maryland, gunning for a junior partner position at his law firm. I haven’t talked to Sargento in forever, and Rymer is… well,
Rymer
. He still lives in town. I see him every once in a while. Oh! And there’s a reunion next October.”

   Trip’s eyes started to look sleepy, but he responded, “Oh yeah? Jesus, ten years.”

   “That seems to be the collective reaction.”

   He smiled dazedly, and I figured the meds were finally catching up with him. I released his hand and told him, “Hey. I think I’m going to head out now. You need the rest.”

   There was a silent pause between us, a recap of the day’s events, a reluctance to say goodbye. But what else could we do? It was time to get back to the real world. “Take care of that skull though, okay?”

   He gave a lazy snicker. “Yeah. How ‘bout
you
just worry about taking care of
me
in your article. Try not to make me look like a jerk.”

   “Impossible. Even if you were one, I am an excellent reporter. I’d be able to spin it.”

   I gave him a wink and stood up to go. But Trip stopped me in my tracks with a grab of my wrist.

   “Look. I should just shut up, but I’m gonna blame this on the head injury, here, okay?”

   A jolt went through me, panicked at the thought of what he was possibly going to say. His eyes squinted as he tried to break the news gently, his voice groggy, “The thing is, you are not a hard-hitting news reporter, Lay. You just don’t have that killer instinct in you, and I say that as a compliment. Yeah, you got straight A’s in English, but you used to love art class too, remember? I’m surprised you even went into this blood-sucking field. You’re a dreamer, not a journalist. You need to
create,
not to
report
. How have you not figured this out by now? I just think you’re looking for happiness in the wrong place.”

  
I was surprised at his speech and stared at him, my jaw slack. He stared right back, his eyes defiant. A few seconds passed before I finally quirked a smile, then tried to make light of his hefty words. It's what I do. I crack bad jokes to break the tension. It’s always been a problem, thinking or saying something completely inappropriate to the situation at hand.

   “Well, that might be something to consider
after
I turn this article into an award-winning exclusive, Lefty.”

   “You already have the exclusive. You knew me for years before any of these other reporters. Just write that. Write about
us
.”

   I just smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, knowing he was too banged up to try anything funny. “I’ll see you around, old pal.”

   We knew it wasn’t our final goodbye. It was never goodbye with us.

   As I made my way down the corridor, I caught a familiar flash of honey-colored hair disappearing around the corner. I approached the cross-section of hallway, and took a peek at the nurse’s back, in her dark mauve scrubs, scurrying down the length of linoleum. I’d had this vision numerous times over the course of my life, and I’m sure the conversation I’d just had with Trip didn’t help matters any. The fact was, however, that I’d stopped running after my mother’s look-alikes years ago.

   I’d been duped too many times before.

Chapter 14

GOSSIP

   Bruce surrendered the car to the valet after I’d wrangled the huge, wrapped box from the backseat. I don’t know what the heck I was thinking when I’d decided on a bread machine as Jack and Livia’s engagement present. But it was on sale and I had a 20% off coupon for Bed Bath and Beyond, so I figured I’d splurge and get something off their registry.

   Negotiating the stairs leading to The Brownstone was no easy feat while hauling a box the size of Texas and balancing on my high heels, however. Then again, I had kinda counted on my fiancé to be around to help me out when I bought it. But no. Apparently, it was asking too much for Devin to make an appearance at a family function. Again. I still couldn’t quite believe that he’d actually left me flat to go to that conference.

   And don’t think for one minute that I missed a chance to get my digs in about that throughout the entire month of September.

   Bruce was no flipping help except to hold the occasional door for me, teasing, “You should’ve just gotten them a gift certificate, like me,” pulling his single card from his breast pocket and waving it in front of my face. God. Even in our twenties, he was still such a little brother.

   We navigated through to a private reception room at the back, where the first person I saw was my Aunt Eleanor. She excused herself from Livi’s parents and came over to me in a graceful flurry of elegant strides, a smile on her face. “Layla, sweetheart, that box is bigger than you!” she said, much to my chagrin, before relieving me of the bulky thing and placing it on a nearby table already crowded with presents. “How’s my girl?” she asked, finally able to greet me properly with a kiss on my cheek and a genuine hug. Hugs were Aunt Eleanor’s specialty. She never gave one of those half-assed, one-armed formalities, but always made with a genuine squeeze. She constantly doubled up on the love toward Bruce and me, partly because that’s the kind of person she was, and partly because I suspected she felt the need to make up for the guilt of her crappy sister abandoning us when I was twelve. Aunt Eleanor made up for that lost love in spades.

   “Your father and Sylvia are already here,” she whispered into my ear. “She really is something, isn’t she?”

   I had to agree. At first, it was strange to think of my father “dating”, but he and Sylvia had been together for a few months by then. Seeing the two of them together was really great. He looked happy. It was nice to see Aunt Eleanor on board with the whole thing.

   I went over to say hello to them, hoping I wasn’t interrupting as they busily giggled near the bar.

   “Hi, Dad!”

   “Layla! Hi, sweetheart.”

   I kissed him as Sylvia put her drink down. “Well, hello there, Miss Layla,” she said, holding her hands out to me.

   I took them in mine and gave her a kiss, then Dad stole an extra squeeze around my shoulders, asking, “How’s my Layla-Loo?”

   “Stellar, Dad,” I answered, before taking note of his girlfriend’s toes. “Sylvia! You did your nails! Did you go to Rita’s?”

   She peeked down and assessed her feet. “I did! I finally used that gift card you gave me.”

   “Well, they look great.”

   “Thank you.”

   Just then, I felt two tree trunks wrap around my middle from behind, lifting me off the floor.

   “Who brought the brat?” my cousin Stephen yelled into my ear as I squirmed to get out of his iron grasp.

   “Stephen! Put me down! No, really, come on. I’m wearing a dress!”

   He laughed, lowering me back to my feet as he teased, “But you’re such a little bitty thing.”

   Stephen was the oldest one of the four, huge, hulking monsters I otherwise knew as my cousins. Jack was the youngest, and there was still Harrison and Sean in between, both of whom were closing in for greetings of their own, probably involving some sort of physical torture to my person. They were all crazy—all
boy
—each and every one of them. And people wonder why I was such a tomboy growing up.

   I gave the three maniacs a kiss hello as the prospective groom spotted me and headed across the room as well. Aside from being a contractor, Jack had always been into art and music. The interest in the latter had prompted a short burst of fame back in the mid-nineties with a few songs that actually got some play on the radio. He’d since traded in his guitar for a hammer and was presently the self-proprietor of his own construction company. I chatted with everyone for a few minutes before excusing myself to let Jack lead me over to his fiancée.

   “How’s my car?” he asked, giving me a wicked, sarcastic smirk.

   “Umm, that would be
my
car, and it’s currently parked outside this very building.”

   When I was away at school, I let Jack have the Mustang. The deal was that I’d take back possession after graduation, in exchange for him doing a bit of work on the old junker. The situation was, though, that he’d spent those four years completely restoring the thing, sinking his own money into it in order to do so. I’d watched the progress over the years and couldn’t quite believe the shiny red awesomeness he’d managed to turn my old baby into. I half-expected it to start talking to me, like KIT from
Knight Rider
. There was no way I could reclaim the car after all his hard work, and since I lived in the city anyway, we just kind of decided to share it. But it
did
stay parked in my father’s garage. The thing was a restored classic, and we didn’t want to take the chance of any undue elemental exposure by letting it sit in Jack and Livia’s driveway. His man-card would’ve been revoked for such a crime.

   Jack’s fiancée and I had gone to high school together, but I didn’t really know her back then. She was a year older than me and I was inevitably viewed as chopped liver like all the other underclassmen. But I’d gotten to know her really well in the five years since she’d been dating my cousin. She was a photographer, and I had recently hooked her up with a freelance gig at
Now!

   Oh, and she was actually very, very cool.

   She threw an arm around me, drawing me into her group of bridesmaids, handing me her glass of red wine in the process, never once breaking conversation with her entourage. I knew them all from school, too, but only saw them occasionally, normally at events like this.

   I was standing with Liv and her sister Victoria, Isla St. Parque, Samantha Baker… and Tess Valletti. Tess, you may remember, dated Trip back in the day. I’d been in her company sporadically and uneventfully over the years, but that night, I felt the old, irrational pang of jealousy hit. I guessed it was because I had just seen him so recently. I knew I was being ridiculous. Tess was happily married, I was engaged, and Trip wasn’t even in the picture.

   But I guess old habits die hard.

   Cooper’s sister Shana was there, but standing off in a corner arguing with her latest boyfriend. She was a total bitch and I could never understand how Coop managed to be such a normal person. His mother was nuts, but his father was pretty awesome. Maybe the crazy genes only ran
along the female side. I couldn’t quite figure out how Shana and Livi ever wound up to be friends.

   I turned my attention back to the group in time to hear Liv say, “Hey, Layla. Did Jack tell you that Vix got knocked up?”

  
Oh my gosh. Another baby?

   I congratulated Victoria with a big hug. I hardly knew her, but it was the sort of news that brought about that kind of reaction.  

   She said hello, thanks, and asked, “So, what are you doing these days? Are you working? Dating anyone?”

   I briefly considered telling them about Devin, but I wasn’t about to announce my engagement at someone else’s engagement party. Talk about tacky. Besides, I’d left my ring at home that night, mainly because I
still
hadn’t told my father.

   “Yes and yes,” I said, before tossing out my standard reply. “His name’s Devin, and we work together at the magazine.”

   Isla’s eyes practically glazed over. “Ooh. What magazine? Pleeease tell me it’s
Vogue
or something.”

   “Or something,” I joked.

   It made everyone giggle once I described
Now!
to their eager ears.

   Isla said, “I’ll have to look for your byline now on all the articles.”