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“You were cozy right here at the Talk the other night. At the Talk, people talk.”
“God, when did this turn into a soap opera? We had coffee, and talked about Mackensie. We’re friends. Just. Only. Hardly even that really.”
“That’s good.” Bob issued his wise nod. “Because I was going to tell you that, man, you
never date girlfriends. It’s not only not cool, but it’s lethal. They’ll rip you up, then go shopping together.”
“That’s good to know, Bob.” Carter watched the sarcasm float harmlessly over Bob’s head. “But I’m not dating Parker. And since when can’t a man and a woman have coffee—tea—together in a public place without . . . Never mind.” As he felt a headache coming on, Carter let it go. “It just doesn’t matter.”
“Right. Back on topic. Two hot chicks squaring off over the Cartman. I bet if the redhead had come in, you’d have had a chick fight. Chicks fighting over you, Carter.” Bob’s eyes went bright with fantasy. “You’re the big, bad dog.”
“I don’t want to be the dog.” There was a reason he’d kept the incident to himself through the workday. But what madness had overtaken him to make him believe he could get reasonable advice out of Bob anywhere, anytime? “Try to stay with me on this, Bob.”
“I’m trying, but I keep getting flashes of the girl fight. You know, with the rolling around on the floor and ripping each other’s clothes.” Bob lifted his skinny cinnamon latte. “It’s pretty vivid.”
“There was no fight.”
“There could have been. Okay, so you don’t want to try juggling the two of them. Me, I think you’ve got the skills for it, but I’m sensing you want me to help you figure out which one to pick.”
“No. No. No.” Carter dropped his head in his hands. “They’re not ties, Bob. This is not a comparison study. I’m in love with Mackensie.”
“Seriously? Well, hey, you never said you had the Big L for her. I thought you just had a thing.” Rubbing his chin, Bob sat back. “This is a different equation. How pissed off was she?”
“Take a guess, then double it.”
Bob nodded wisely. “Beyond the taking her flowers and apologizing. You’ve got to get your foot in the door first, that’s the thing. Something like this, when you’re the innocent party . . . You are an innocent party, right?”
“Bob.”
“Okay. You’re going to have to let her kick your ass first, that’s my advice.” Considering, Bob sipped his latte. “Then you’ve got to tell her how you’re innocent. Then you’ve got to beg. You’re going to want to top it off with something that sparkles in a case like this.”
“Jewelry? A bribe?”
“You don’t look at it like a bribe. It’s an
apology. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t do anything, Carter. It never does. You want this to go away, get things back, get her back and have sex with her again in this decade, you spring for something shiny. It’s coming up on Valentine’s Day anyway.”
“That’s shallow and manipulative.”
“Damn right.”
Carter laughed. “I’ll keep the something shiny as a backup plan. But I think you’re right about the rest. Especially letting her kick my ass first. It looked bad. It looked very bad.”
“Did you take the brunette for a tumble?”
“No. God.”
“Then you’re a righteous man. Remember that. You’re a righteous man, Carter. But you’re also the big, bad dog. I’m proud to know you.”
IN HER STUDIO, MAC FINISHED A SET OF PROOFS. SHE BOXED them for the client, along with a price sheet, her business card, and a list of options.
She glanced at the phone and congratulated herself for having the spine
not to return Carter’s calls. Maybe Corrine had been playing games. Probably she’d been playing games. But he’d still been on the field.
It would take more than a couple of apologetic phone calls to make up for that. Besides, if he hadn’t done anything, what was he apologizing for?
Didn’t matter, she reminded herself.
She was going to reward herself for a productive day with a bubble bath, a glass of wine, and an evening of popcorn and TV. An action movie, she decided. Where lots of things blew up, and there was absolutely not the slightest whiff of romance.
She set her completed work in a Vows shopping bag for delivery, then whirled around as she heard her door open.
Linda, in full, spitting rage, stormed in. “How dare you? How dare you have my car towed to some second-rate garage? Do you know they expected me to pay two hundred dollars to release it? You’d better write me a check right this minute.”
Okay, Mac thought, there’s the bell for this round. And for once, I’m ready. “Not on your life. Give me my keys.”
“I’ll give you your keys when you give me my two hundred dollars.”
Mac stepped forward, grabbed her mother’s purse, and emptied the contents on the floor. Linda’s utter shock gave Mac time to crouch down, shove through the debris, and pocket her keys.
“How—”
“Dare I?” Mac said coolly. “I dare because you borrowed my car on Sunday, because you didn’t return it, or my calls, for five days. I dare because I’m finished being used and abused. Believe me when I say I’m finished. I’m done. This stops now.”
“It
snowed. You could hardly expect me to risk driving home from New York in a snowstorm. I could have had an accident. I could have—”
“Called,” Mac interrupted. “But leaving that aside, there was no storm; there was a dusting. Less than a quarter of an inch. That was Sunday.”
“Ari wouldn’t hear of me driving home. He invited me to stay over, so I did.” She shrugged it off. “We spent a few days together. We went shopping, to the theater. Why shouldn’t I have a life?”
“You’re welcome to one. Have it somewhere else.”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Mackensie. I left you my car.”
“You left me a car I couldn’t use, even if you’d bothered to also include the goddamn keys.”
“An oversight. You pushed me out the door so fast that day, it’s no wonder I didn’t remember. Don’t swear at me.” She burst into tears, lovely drops spilling copiously out of shattered blue eyes. “How can you treat me this way? How can you begrudge me a chance for happiness?”
It won’t work, Mac told herself even as her stomach cramped. Not this time. “You know I used to ask myself those questions, reversing the you and me. I’ve never been able to find the answer.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m in
love. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this way about someone. How it takes over everything else so it’s only the two of you. It was just a car, Mackensie.”
“It was just
my car.”
“Look what you did to mine!” Even with tears still gleaming on her cheeks, the outrage came through. “You had it
towed to that—that grease pit. And that horrible man is holding it hostage.”
“So pay the ransom,” Mac suggested.
“I don’t know how you can be this mean to me. It’s because you never let yourself feel. You take pictures of feelings, you don’t have them. Now you’re punishing me because I do.”
“Okay.” Mac crouched again, scooped, shoved, pushed the scattered contents on the floor back into her mother’s bag. “I have no feelings. I’m a horrible daughter. And in that vein, I want you to leave. I want you to go.”
“I need the money for my car.”
“You’re not getting it from me.”
“But . . . you have to—”
“No.” She shoved the bag into Linda’s hand. “That’s the thing, Mom. I don’t have to. And I’m not going to. Your problem, you fix it.”
Linda’s lip trembled, her chin quivered. Not manipulation, Mac thought, not entirely. She felt what she felt, after all. And believed herself the victim.
“How am I going to get home?”
Mac picked up the phone. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“You’re not my daughter.”
“You know, the sad thing for both of us is I am.”
“I’ll wait outside. In the cold. I’m not going to stand in the same room with you for another minute.”
“They’ll pick you up in front of the main house.” Mac turned away, shut her eyes as she heard the door slam. “Yes, I need a cab at the Brown Estate. As quickly as possible.”
With her stomach in ugly knots, Mac walked over and locked her door. She’d need to add aspirin to that post-workday relaxation plan, she thought. A whole bottle ought to just about do it. Maybe she’d take the aspirin and lie down in a dark room, try to sleep off the feelings she apparently didn’t have.
She took the aspirin first, washed it down with a full glass of icy water to try to soothe the rawness in her throat. Then she simply sat down on the kitchen floor.
That was far enough.
She’d sit there until her knees stopped shaking, until her head stopped throbbing. Until the urge to burst into wild tears passed.
When the phone rang, she reached up, managed to grab it from the counter. She read the ID, answered Parker. “I’m all right.”
“I’m here.”
“I know. Thanks. But I’m all right. I called her a cab. It’ll be here in another couple minutes. Don’t let her in.”
“All right. I’m here,” she repeated. “Whatever you need.”
“Parker? She’s never going to change, so I have to. I didn’t know it would be so painful. I thought it would feel good, good and satisfying. Maybe with a
