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“Reagan…it’s not your fault.” He looks away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His eyes lock back onto mine. There’s a sharpness in them I don’t like. “The same reason you never talk about your mother and grandmother dying. The reason you don’t discuss that you think you’ll get it too.”
His words hit like a hammer. “That’s really mean of you.”
Remorse and shame blanket his face. “Let’s get out.” He jumps out of the pool and offers me his hand. The conversation is as good as over.
Chapter 29
Alice
February comes quickly. My birthday rolls around but I don’t mention it to Reagan. In light of what’s happened it seems stupid and selfish. What’s to celebrate when Brian will never have another?
“We’re going to the Avalon tonight. Marcus Schulz is DJing,” Zoe tells me in no uncertain terms and by the look on her face it’s going to be a hard-fought argument.
I pause the Game of Thrones rerun I was absently watching and turn in my seat on the couch to take in Blake’s sympathetic expression and Zoe’s determined one. “I don’t think I’m feeling like celebrating.”
Zoe sits on the couch next to me. “Look, I get it. It’s fucking sad as shit what happened. But this is your day. It’s not often you turn twenty-one, and damnit, you, we need to celebrate that.”
One night of respite from the sadness does sound tempting.
“What about Reagan? What do I say to him? Sorry you’re in a deep state of depression, but I’m going to a club with my friends.”
“Basically,” Zoe answers without an ounce of remorse.
“Just tell him that your friends insist on taking you out for your birthday,” Blake cuts in after scowling at Zoe. “Which is the truth.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, deliberating what to do. One night out does sound fun. “Okay,” I murmur.
An hour later, I call Reagan and detect the raspy note of the sleep in his voice. “Hello?”
“Rea?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you make it to class today?”
I await his answer with a knot in my gut, already anticipating what the answer will be. He’s barely been out of the house all month. And if he keeps that up, he’ll fail every one of his classes.
“Uhh, nah. I’m just so tired.”
“I know, babe,” I sympathize, my voice breaking. I don’t know how to help him and it’s killing me. “I wanted to tell you that the girls are taking me out tonight and I won’t be able to come over.”
“Out? Why?” He sounds genuinely confused.
“It’s my birthday,” I gently remind him. “The thirteenth of February.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, babe. Happy birthday.”
“It’s okay. I know you have a lot on your mind.”
“Where are you guys going?”
“The Avalon. Zoe made plans.”
There’s a long pause, after which, he says, “You guys have fun. Happy birthday.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I croak, tears burning my eyes.
“Alice…”
“Yeah.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“This club is dope as fuck!” Zoe walks inside shouting, arms raised, her ass swaying in the short white dress she’s wearing.
Dora, Blake, and I nod and smile at the doorman, trailing after her as if she were the Pied Piper of fun. The first floor is the lounge area. It’s decorated beautifully in lush velvet, rich dark wood, and crystal chandeliers.
At one of the VIP booths we spot a major movie star and his model girlfriend. At another are two actors I recognize from television. On the far end of the bar sits a rock legend talking to a girl a third his age.
The place is packed with beautiful people. Most of the women and some of the men could grace the covers of fashion magazines. All of them seeking attention.
“What are you guys drinking?” Zoe shouts over the din of the packed bar.
“How are you buying? You’re not twenty-one yet,” I remind her when she starts waving her black Amex.
She smirks. “Oh, Alice. You’re funny. Not intentionally of course. I’ve had a fake ID since I was sixteen.”
Dora’s eyes bug out. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, please.”
Zoe rolls her eyes. “Why am I not surprised.”
“Z, c’mon, cut them some slack tonight,” Blake chides.
“One shot and then we dance. But you all are having one shot tonight. You too, Red. No excuses. I don’t want to hear about your perfect parents disapproving.”
“Fine,” Dora mutters, Zoe squeals, and we all cover our ears.
Like a pro, Zoe flirts shamelessly with the ridiculously good-looking bartender while she orders. “Four Red-Headed Sluts, please.” She hands one to each one of us and raises her glass. “To Alice. Happy twenty-first birthday and to many more.”
We bring our glasses together and toast. “And to friendship,” I add. Everything that’s happened only reminds me how precious each minute is, each person that’s in my life. “I don’t know how I would’ve survived this year without you guys. I just want you to know how much I love you.”
