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“Something like that.”
“Well, she took the contact info. You want me to get it for you?” The woman dropped her cigarette and ground it beneath her sneaker, raising her brows. Sophie shook her head.
“No, thanks. I’ve got everything I need. You have a nice day, now.”
She spun on her heel and stalked through the narrow alley, digging in her pants for her cell phone. She needed some answers, but she wasn’t about to call Henry again. Not after their last disastrous conversation. Still, there was someone she could call who seemed intent on getting involved in this whole mess. Her fingers jabbed at her cell harshly. Carl answered on the second ring.
“I’m willing to hear you out.”
“Sophie. I’m glad you called. Look, it’s not what you think.” She could actually hear Carl shove his hand through his hair. It rasped against the phone.
“First things first. Nicole Rossi was in my home town the other week, Carl. Asking about me. I need you to tell me the truth... You’re friends with Henry, you must know her well enough. Is she the type of woman who’d try and mess with my business to get at me?”
Carl sighed. She heard a creak as he leaned back in his chair. “She’s exactly that type of person. Especially if she thought it would get her Henry back. Who, by the way, she doesn’t have. I’m pretty sure she’s the ‘anonymous source’ most of these papers are quoting. She’s feeding them the stories.”
“And the pictures?” Icicles were forming in Sophie veins.
“Oh, hell, Sophie. You know how they can make something look, out of context. I’m telling you, it’s not what it looks like. I know Henry, and he’d never go back to that viper. He didn’t even like her very much to begin with. He was mostly seeing her for his father’s sake.”
Sophie’s fingers tightened on her phone. She rubbed frantically at her forehead with her free hand. “Why does any of this matter to you, Carl? Why are you leaving me messages begging me to hear you out when Henry’s the one who screwed up? Again.”
He sighed and drummed his fingers on what sounded like a wooden table. Maybe a desk? “Honestly? I’ve known Henry a long time, Sophie. Long enough to know that he’s got issues. Long enough to know that he’s unhappy. And then you come along... You’ve made him happier than I’ve ever seen. I want that for him. You don’t know what he was like before, but I do. And you’re good for him.”
“You’re a good friend, Carl. He’s lucky to have you.” She stared at the blue of the sky and tried to blink away the fresh tears that pricked her eyes. She clenched her teeth against the anger and pain that welled in her chest. “But I don’t think this is going to work. I don’t think Henry’s very good for me.”
“Sophie–”
“Goodbye, Carl.” She hung up, even though he was still speaking. She’d heard him out. Nicole was the one feeding the stories to the tabloids. Nicole had snooped around her old dance studio, and probably elsewhere in town too. Anger burned like lava in her belly. At Nicole, for her vicious tactics. At Henry for keeping so much from her that she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. At herself for letting them both manipulate and control her emotions. Where was her backbone? She’d had it once. She’d been fiercely independent.
Seized with a sudden need to do something, to exert her will and change something for the better, anything, Sophie bent and snatched up a chunk of broken concrete about the size of her palm. She took careful aim and winged the hunk of asphalt as hard as she could at the old sign.
“Yes!” She gave a little hop as the bit of debris struck the broken ‘n’ and knocked it loose. It clattered to the ground with a satisfying thunk. Sophie stood, panting, fists clenched at her sides, staring at the building. The sign now read Bo—n—o.
Better than nothing. She gave a curt not, pleased with her handiwork, spun on her heel, and headed for her car.
Chapter Nineteen
She didn’t remember her bedroom ever being so small. It felt barely bigger than a postage stamp as she paced from one wall to the other. Ever since she’d returned to her parent’s house, adrenaline had tingled through her veins, bubbling through her blood. Her muscles hummed as if she was attached to some low level electrical charge. Sophie had to move. She reached her closet and spun on her heel again, striding back to her dresser.
On top was a small trophy with a ballerina on pointe. One of the first competitions she’d won. Several more were lined up beside it, tap, jazz, tango, ballroom. All first and second place trophies in gleaming gold and silver, the plaques all carved with her name. Sophie snatched it up. “You never would have let yourself fall for a man you knew next to nothing about.”
She glared at the elegant, poised figure of the dancer. “You didn’t even care about boys.” If only that was still true now. Sophie grimaced. Her fingers tightened around the smooth, cool surface of the trophy. She had to force herself to relax her arm, which was ready, for all the world, to fling the darn thing across her room.
Instead, she stomped angrily to her closet and tugged open the door. She was looking for a box, something she could put the trophy in and not have to look at it anymore. She wanted to put them away, all of them, and not have to think about what a failure she was.
She pushed aside a row of winter coats as she glimpsed the brown of a cardboard box. Sophie curled her fingers over the edge and yanked. It wasn’t as heavy as she’d been anticipating, and it came rocketing out, spilling its contents onto the floor.
Pictures and papers and ribbons piled around her feet. Sophie groaned in exasperation and squatted, setting the trophy down with a thunk.
“Another mess. Good one, Sophie. Maybe there’s a market somewhere for someone so good at making messes. You could help people plan for disaster relief just by living your stupid life in their vicinity. Christ!”
She began shoving the papers back in the box, barely glancing at them, until the words TO DO: IMPORTANT in her own childish scrawl caught her eye.
Sophie paused, breathing a little uneven, and pulled the paper from the pile. #1, she’d written, Become a Dancer! #2 - Travel the World! #3 - Dance until I’m Too Old (Like 30) #4 - Meet a Handsome Prince! #5 - Get Married, Live in a big Mansion, Have Kids #6 - Happily Ever After!
Based on the date in the corner, she’d been about six when she wrote this “important” to do list. Five easy steps to the Happily Ever After part. If only life were really that easy. But it wasn’t. Some things just weren’t meant to be, no matter how bad you wanted them.
Sophie wasn’t at all sure if she was talking about her dance career, or what had happened with Henry. Still, she’d accomplished the first two on the list. Maybe that wasn’t so bad. She had written it almost twenty years ago.
