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“Go,” she urged. “Sneak out the back exit.”
I nodded and hurried out of the restrooms. After retrieving my purse from the lockers, I left the clubhouse.
I didn’t allow myself to cry again until I got back to my apartment and locked the world away.
* * *
“Oh, shit. How did I not know this?” Marissa’s voice went all high-pitched, and I had to move the cell phone away from my ear. “Penny? Pen, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” I sighed, exhausted from a night spent sobbing into my pillow.
I cried until my eyes stung, and there were no tears left to cry.
“Get your laptop,” she ordered.
“Laptop? I don’t have one,” I replied meekly.
Marissa gasped down the line. “What the hell? Do you live in the dark ages? How do you watch Netflix?”
“I… don’t,” I admitted.
“Okay use your phone.”
“I can’t. I don’t have enough data.”
“Jesus, Penny. How do you get by with no internet?”
I shrugged, picking at one of the threads hanging from the couch. “I go to the library.”
“We need to get you hooked up, pronto.”
I rolled my eyes, a little annoyed at her presumptions. Didn’t she realize I couldn’t afford it?
My reasons would only fall on deaf ears, though, so I remained silent.
“Okay, then. I’ll Google, and you listen. Hang on. I’ll put you on speaker.”
The line went quiet except for the sound of the frantic tapping of keys.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Ooh, I’ve got something.” Her voice startled me, and I leaned back on the couch, feeling as if I might need the extra support.
“Anthony Weston, founder of West Lake and Associates, blah, blah, blah, adopts nephew, Blake Weston, after discovering his estranged sister had died following a drug overdose. Blake had been assigned a ward of the state following his father’s arrest and subsequent incarceration for drug offenses. Anthony and his wife, Miranda, ask that reporters respect their privacy at this sensitive time.
“Oh, wait, there’s something else. It’s a photo of Blake with his aunt, uncle, and the Arnold family. That’s her family, right? Piranha bitch… does she have long blonde hair and eyes that could kill a girl dead with just one look?”
That’s her.
“Yes.” I sighed, sadly trying hard not to conjure up the image of Blake pressing his lips to her cheek.
The same lips that had kissed me.
A wave of nausea rolled through me.
“Daughter of Trent Arnold, CEO of Arnold Holdings, is to attend Ohio State with a family friend and nephew of Anthony Weston, yada, yada, yada…”
My mental dam broke, and images of Blake and Brittany flooded my mind.
