Trigger (28 page)

My mom kept hoping I would meet a good guy, fall in love and get married so that one day I could give her plenty of grandkids. Up until only a few days ago, it had looked like her dream might in fact come true despite that I’d always told her I wasn’t that kind of a girl. I supposed Alex would be the one who provided our mother with grandkids instead.

I exhaled. “Because it’s over, Mom. He turned out to be a loser just like Dad, Sergej and Lennie. Men are a waste of time.”

“But how can it be over? What happened?”

“We just aren’t meant for each other.” There was no point telling my mom the real reason we’d broken up. All that would serve would be to bring her unnecessary pain. Then again, if she badgered me about getting back together with Dylan, I might just have to do it. “How’s Alex doing?”

“He’s fine. Lately, he’s been very good boy. Let’s hope it continue.” Mom didn’t sound like she was very sure of that.

“I’m sure it will, Mom. If not, maybe I’ll come back and stay with you guys for a while, just to make sure he stays on the right track.”

“No, no, Nina. You worry about yourself and I take care of Alex. We’ll be fine. You need to work on your career and become big actress! I don’t want you to stay waitress like me all your life. You have a lot of talent and will become big star soon. I know it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. It felt good hearing such words from my mom. Up until today she had mostly complained about how risky my career choice was.

“Thanks, Mom. I think you’re right about me needing to focus more on my career. Lately, it’s become almost an afterthought.” It was true. Dylan and I had spent so much time together, I had skipped working on my one-woman show, certainly not attended any open mikes to practice my delivery and try out new material. And I had almost forgotten an audition my agent arranged for me.
Not good
, I thought.
Not good at all.
No man was worth giving up yourself and who you are.
Well, now I had plenty of time to focus on myself and my career
, I thought, the thought not feeling quite as comforting as I wanted it to feel.

“That’s no good, Nina. Focus on your career,
moy rebenok
. Man can come later. You are young girl.”

“Right. They can definitely come later. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mom. Love you.”

Dylan

It was late in the evening and I was sitting in my home office, staring at my laptop screen. I’d pulled up Nina’s Facebook page to see what she was up to. Two weeks had passed since she ran out of my mother’s house and I had yet to come up with the best way to reach her. I had called and called of course, but she hadn’t picked up once nor had she returned any of the dozens of voicemails I’d left. I had sent her a couple of emails, imploring her to get in touch with me, but this approach failed as well.
If
she got the emails, that is. Maybe she had deleted my email address from her contacts or, worse, blocked my address so I wouldn’t be able to email her at all. I didn’t think so because my emails hadn’t bounced back. Then again, the last time one of us had attempted to apologize over email days had passed before it returned. Nina had finally found her bounced-back email in her spam mail. It had taken five days for it to come back, which was why she had assumed it must have been delivered.

I would have to connect with her in person somehow, like the first time I was in this position. I thought about driving over to her house and knock on her door, but considering that she hadn’t taken my calls I didn’t think she would open. If she was even at home. And if I was really loud in my begging, maybe I’d alert Nixon instead, who, after all, was Nina’s neighbor. As close as Nina and Nixon were, it was very likely he knew what had happened and I doubted Nixon thought as highly of me any longer. At least not if Nina believed I had known of the bullying and told him about it. Due to scheduling conflicts, Nixon and I had yet to get a chance to train together and after what had happened, neither of us had been in touch with the other. The idea of ending up in a fist fight with the beefy Puerto Rican trainer didn’t appeal to me. Not because I was scared, but because a fight with one of Nina’s best friends would only complicate an already complicated matter further. In order to get Nina to hear me out, I needed all her friends on my side as much as possible.

I had to come up with a way to reach her in person so good she just had to hear me out.

I spotted a posting in the middle of Nina’s Facebook page then. Nina would be doing an open mike at the Improv on Melrose in two days.

I suddenly knew what to do. Not only would I be at the open mike that night, but I would also get up on stage and tell Nina everything I wanted her to know. If I poured out my heart in front of all those people, I was pretty sure some of them would take pity on me and help me get Nina’s attention, at least the female audience members. The guys would probably throw eggs at me for being such a tool, but that was just something I would have to take. I needed to get up right after Nina to be sure she was still there to hear what I had to say. Before was a bad idea since that might throw her off for her own set and I sure didn’t want
that
to happen again.

I nodded to myself, pleased with this approach. If I began my time on stage with an earnest plea for Nina to hear me out, how could she not listen?

Securing the spot immediately after her should be no problem. I wasn’t poor exactly and money always talked. I’d put my money to use by bribing the person after Nina and the MC if necessary. The real challenge would be for me to put together the right thing to say to Nina and then to actually get out the words. That was a lot easier said than done. I hadn’t exaggerated when I’d told Nina I’d think it would be terrifying to stand in front of an audience, trying to entertain. I did think so. Even if the goal for my set was not to make anyone laugh. The goal was to make the audience help me convince Nina to hear me out.

I could only hope I’d succeed.

Nina

Most women like getting roses from their men. I do, too. As long as it’s not from one of those guys selling single roses to couples at restaurants. Rose pricks, I call them. Those guys seem to have a sixth sense how to make my life hell, always popping up when I’m on a first date. As if I’m not under enough pressure then… But, no, these pricks come over to add thorns to my already prickly love life by making my date buy me one or more of those unwieldy, overpriced things. Not only do I have to drag it around all evening, but I also have to worry about not displacing it or breaking it. Usually, I manage to do both at the same time—I accidentally place it on a chair and then I sit on it, getting my ass full of prick. Those damn rose pricks!

I smiled as I re-read what I had just written. The bit might work fabulously toward the end of my show, when the audience was thoroughly warmed up and game for raunchier stuff. Now I only needed five more minutes and I’d have enough material to start selling my one-woman show to club owners in California. And if no one wanted it—this was unfortunately a big possibility—I’d put it up myself at some theater and invite casting directors.

I’d try out this and three other bits this evening at the Improv, see how they’d go over with the crowds there.

Thoughts of Dylan were finding their way into my mind suddenly and my heart ached so much a little moan escaped my lips. Ever since I told my mom it was over between us, I’d done my best to keep busy to stop thinking about him. The sooner I forgot about him, the better. I worked extra shifts at the restaurant. I went to the gym with Nixon and powerwalked with Ricki. I signed up for another acting class and went on an audition for a small commercial. I met with a couple of talent agencies that had responded positively to my recent mailing. One of them had seemed very interested in signing me and was supposed to get back to me with a final decision later in the week. I should have been super excited about that as getting a new, better agent would likely make a huge difference in my career, giving me access to tons more auditions. With the right agent—-one who really believed in me—-it wouldn’t matter if I ever put up my one-woman show; I’d eventually be cast in something big anyway by going on enough auditions. But I wasn’t excited. I was finally admitting to myself that I missed Dylan too much to be excited about anything.

Not that that meant I was about to do anything about it. I still believed it was best if the two of us never saw each other again, even though I had decided to finally forgive Elisa and the others for what they had done. Carrying so much hate inside you as I had done over the years only made you bitter and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life bitter. I smiled to myself. Leslie would have been proud of me for being so mature about this.

Someone was knocking on my front door then. It was a tentative knock.

My heart fluttered.
Could it be Dylan?
He hadn’t called me for a few days now. Maybe he had decided to change strategy. Putting away my notebook, I checked the time on my phone. Almost two o’clock. No, surely it was a Jehovah’s Witness or kids selling candy for a school trip. I walked over and opened the door without checking the peephole first.

I stifled a gasp. Elisa was standing in front of me, looking like she was in pain.

“Hi, Nina.” Elisa kept glancing down at her shuffling feet.

When the initial shock to see who had come for a visit had settled, I said in a cool voice, “Hello, Elisa. What can I do for you?”

She raised her gaze and looked at me. “I… I came to apologize for what I did to you.” Her voice was unsteady.

“Oh.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her gaze. Her body shivered. She looked so miserable I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her then.

“Do you want to come in?” I stepped back, holding the door so Elisa could enter.

She stared at me now, mouth slightly opened.

“Are… are you sure?”

I nodded. “Yes. Come in.”

Elisa padded past me and into my living room. She stopped in the middle of it, seeming unsure of what to do. I walked by her and motioned toward the green couch.

“Please have a seat.”

Elisa mumbled a thank-you and sat on the couch, looking eerily similar to how her brother had looked the time he came over to talk to me after Emma’s murder. I sat in the armchair and waited for Elisa to speak. The blond girl met my eyes and cleared her voice.

“First of all, thank you for inviting me into your home,” she began. “It’s really much more than I deserve after what I did to you. There are no words to describe just how sorry I am for how horrible we were to you. I was such a coward. I should’ve stood up to Chrissy and Tara. She inhaled. “For what it’s worth, I wanted to come over in person to tell you just how sorry I am.”

“I accept your apology. And I appreciate that you had the guts to come over and tell it to my face.” I gave her a genuine smile, finding to my surprise that I truly meant those words. I
was
happy that she had come over to tell me she was sorry. It could not have been easy. What’s more, talking to her now didn’t produce any of the discomfort that I had anticipated.

Elisa looked at me with eyes big like ping pong balls. “Really? You forgive me that easily?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about you and those other girls a lot lately. I guess it wasn’t easy for you, either. Chrissy and Tara were after all horrible girls. Sociopaths.”

“Yeah, they were really
awful
.” Elisa shook her head. “You should know most of the other girls in the team felt the same way. We all talked about it afterward.”

“Afterward?”

“Yes, after the trial. I realized then just how terrified everyone had been of those two girls. Not that that justifies what we did.”

I nodded. “No, it doesn’t.”

Elisa sat up straighter and her cheeks were suddenly flushed. “You should know I couldn’t believe what was happening when Tara threw that first punch. I was in total shock. And I
swear
I didn’t hit you once. It was only when Tara ordered Jenni to hold you down that I somehow came to.”

I wrinkled my brows. “What do you mean?”

“I realized these girls might beat you to death. I had to make them stop. So I pretended like I heard someone coming and it scared them, so they stopped. I just wish I had done that a lot sooner. Maybe then Hannah would’ve survived, too.”

As I contemplated Elisa, I suddenly remembered that one of the girls had in fact alerted the others that someone was arriving. The defense attorney had brought it up during trial apparently, which was why they’d stopped the beating. Having not attended the trial myself, I had only learned of this fact secondhand.
So that girl was Elisa?

“Were you the one who placed that call to 911, too?” I asked her.

“Yes. I pretended I lost my phone in the hangar and went back to look for it. That’s when I did it. And that’s pretty much the only part I told Dylan.” She gazed down at her hands that were resting in her lap. “I lied to him because I was so ashamed of what I had done to you and Hannah. He hates bullies and I didn’t want him to hate me. So I pretended like I’d only seen what these girls were doing and interrupted the beating. Since saving you”—Elisa made quotation marks with her fingers—”excluded me from being charged with anything, he believed me. And our mom thought it was best if we didn’t tell him, either. I didn’t tell her what was going on until the trial.” Elisa sighed heavily, her pain obvious.

I looked at the other girl, processing the words she had just said. So no one in their family had known about the bullying then… Not even their mother.

Elisa lifted her head and met my eyes. “My brother’s so depressed about all this. He really didn’t know anything about what was going on. He was barely even around since he was so busy traveling the summer before college and then with his studies. We only ever talked when he was home for the holidays and not very much then either.” Her face turned pleading. “I understand if you can’t stand me, but
please
don’t punish my brother for what I did. He doesn’t deserve it. Please talk to him.”