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Her less than lackluster smile, is more of a grimace and dashes my hopes that I’ll be able to relax with her.
She looks different. It’s not just the close crop of curly hair that’s replaced her ever present box braids. She looks…older and tired
“So, how’s married life?” she asks as soon as I sit down. Her voice is expectant and snide.
“It’s fine, thanks. How are you.”
She ignores me and nods at the waiter who drops menus off and picks one up, opening it so that it completely obscures her face “So, have you told your husband about Weston?”
Her question catches me off guard and I frown at the back of the menu.
“No, of course not. And can you put the menu down?”
After a long-suffering sigh, she closes it, and eyes me with disdain.
“Well, as selective as your memory has become, I couldn’t be sure if you’d forgotten the promise we made. You certainly forgot that we were supposed to be “sisters” when you sold us out.”
I can’t hide my shock, but quickly school my expression. With a pleasant smile in place, I lean close enough so that she can hear my harsh whisper.
“I sold you out? You lied to me for months.”
Her expression remains completely emotionless. But her fingers curl to form fists on the tabletop and her chest heaves with several deep breaths.
“You know what? I’m gonna go.” She puts her menu down and stands up in one smooth movement. Without another word, she turns and strides away.
I’m stunned and by the time I’ve managed to collect myself and stand to follow her, she’s already at the door. I ignore the people who call after me, I don’t think about the gossip that will surely follow, and I storm out the door after her.
She’s standing at the valet stand, handing over her keys. I step into her line of sight and cross my arms. She looks over my shoulder as if I’m not even there.
“Why are you leaving?” I snap.
She shrugs, still not looking at me. “I’m tired.”
“You asked to meet for lunch. I just got here. We haven’t seen each other for almost two years. I’m married. I have a baby. We’ve missed so much…. don’t you want to catch up?”
She laughs and finally deigns to meet my gaze. Her dark gaze is blazing with anger that belies the careless smile on her face.
“Yeah, sorry my unemployment check didn’t stretch far enough to allow me to attend your fancy ass wedding. Oops sorry, I forgot you didn’t invite me.”
“I couldn’t, Matty. You know that.” I search her face for a hint of the friend I love, the one who loves me too. From the flat lifeless dark eyes, to the scorn that curls her lips, there’s nothing of her here.
“Well, while you were getting married, I was just trying to figure out how to stay alive.”
“I was doing the same, Matty.”
Her indifferent mask cracks and her eyes flare anger, grief, and damning disappointment. “No, you weren’t. You turned your back on everything you swore you believed in to protect your precious family.”
“That’s not true,” I take an involuntary step back.
“Yes, it is, you didn’t even try to help her,” she bellows, her control gone, tears stream down her face.
A cough from beside us draws my eyes to the group of people watching us with voyeuristic relish.
I grab her arm and pull her away from the waiting area and into a covered walkway leading to a parking garage. I stop and whirl to face her mutinous glare. “I paid her legal fees; I wrote to the parole board. What else could I do?” I remind her.
She yanks free of my grasp and puts a hand on each of my shoulders and shakes me. “Do you hear yourself? She told you she thought one of the men who raped her was on your family’s payroll.”
I shoves her hands off and glare at her. “And I told her that was impossible. No one who worked at Wilde World could do that and you know it. Which one of your colleagues did you believe was a john?”
