Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (31 page)

As we walk away from my father, he calls, “How much? How much Adrian?”

I stop, turning around slowly; my fists clenched. “What?”

“Name your price. I’m sick of this holier than thou bullshit,” my father states, walking toward us. “Surely your girl here would like a little something. What is it; Princess, ya got student loans? Old, beater car?” he patronizes, leering at us. “What about your parents? Wanna buy them something real nice?”

Kathryn’s stunned, completely speechless. My father’s abhorrent behavior infuriates me. “Are you fucking kidding me? What happened to you? What happened to that guy … to the man I looked up to? Where the Hell did he go?”

“Don’t give me your shit, Adrian. Everyone’s got a price,” my dad says, coming in close to my face, nearly nose-to-nose. “So what’s yours, Golden Boy? I’ll write you a check, and you and your whore can go live happily ever after in whatever white trash town you want.”

“Don’t you ever—”

“Dre! No!” Kathryn screams, stepping in front of my father, stopping me. “Look at me,” she demands. I take a deep breath, dropping my hands, unclenching my fists.

“Dre, it’s not worth it. Don’t … don’t even think about it … let it go … let’s just get out of here,” she says, rationally and calmly, stroking my cheek, running her thumb along my jaw.

My teeth clench, jaw sets. I nod, breathing deeply. “You’re right; you’re so right. He isn’t worth it.”

“Holy fucking, mother-goddamn shit! Your family is ass-butt nuts crazy!”

“Easy Pebbles, ‘mother-goddam’ and ‘ass-butt nuts’ aren’t real phrases,” Dre laughs, holding me in his arms, his face beaming. “And you’re right, swearing doesn’t become you—not one bit.”

“I mean, what the Hell, Dre? Your dad seriously just tried to pay me off! Who the fuck does that?” I ask, feeling rage and embarrassment boiling together inside of me. “Nobody! That’s who. I mean, I guess people do that crap … like on
General Hospital
or
Desperate Housewives
… not in real life!”

“Alright, calm down, deep breaths,” Dre says, stroking my arms, firmly.

“How can I calm down? One of the richest men … like … ever … just offered me money to go away. That’s … that’s … just crazy. I need … I need … a drink. Can we … can we go somewhere?” I ask hopefully. “I’m a little edgy right now. Can we please?”

“Anything. Anything you need,” Dre replies, kissing my forehead.

Everything is just whacko in this state. I don’t think I’m going to be making a return visit anytime soon to New Hampshire. The short time I’ve spent here has been long enough to know that this is not anywhere that I want to be. These people, Dre’s family is just out of control, manipulative, aristocratic, criminal nutjobs. When we leave here, I’m never looking back. Now, I finally understand how easy it must’ve been for Dre to just pack up and bail. I would’ve too if I were him.

Leaving the hospital, sucking in the fresh air, I finally feel like I can breathe again. I know that Dre’s agonizing over what to do about Tristan’s heinous crime, but I just want to get the heck out of here. I have to come up with a solution, help him through this, so we can leave the second Dre’s ready to go home. Because right now, I’m ready.

Walking into a small corner tavern, I’m relieved that we’re finally going to be able to sit and drink without all this stress suffocating us. We take a small table in the back, and Dre gets us two draft beers. Normally, I’m a wine or mixed drink kind of girl, but right now, an icy cold beer in a frosty mug is just what I need. For the first time in my life, I wish I had a siphon; I’d just down this thing in two seconds flat, begging for a refill.

Chugging my beer, I look around the bar, taking in the clientele. The people in this establishment are really well-dressed, perfectly groomed, and carrying designer handbags.

“Dre, what is this place?” I ask, feeling completely out of my element.

“Executive Tavern on the Green,” he says, drinking his beer. “It’s kind of like a country club, but with no pool or golf course. It’s members only.”

“Why’d we come here?” I ask, wondering why he’d choose a place like this. “I thought you were ‘so over’ this lifestyle?”

“I wanted to see if Tristan was here,” he says, grabbing my hand across the table. “I’m gonna try to convince him to turn himself in.”

“Uhhh Dre, do you really think
that’s
gonna work?” I ask, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, enjoying the feel of his fingers interlocked with mine.

“Not one bit,” he admits. “I just don’t know what else to do. I just can’t see myself calling the cops and reporting them. I know they fucking deserve every last thing that happens to them … I just can’t be the person who puts all that shit into motion.”

“Is this your roundabout way of asking me to do it?” I ask, anxiety setting in.

Chuckling, Dre kisses the back of my hand and says, “Not even close. That’s funny though. Pebbles, I’d never put you in the middle of this. You’re too pure and good to be involved in this shit.”

Thinking about Dre’s plan gives me an idea. “Dre, have you ever talked to Leah? Gotten her side of the story? Offered your support? Sympathy?”

Shaking his head, he says, “No. I tried once. Went to her apartment even, but she wasn’t home.” Motioning to the server to bring us two more beers, Dre adds, “After I left, I never really got the guts to try again. Why?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking—what if we go to her and try to convince her to come forward and … maybe even press charges?” I ask, weighing the pros and cons of this plan in my head. “Wouldn’t that be the best of both worlds, really? Leah gets justice—and it doesn’t have to be you who does it?”

Dre’s mulling it over, ruminating the probability of my idea actually working. His mind is clearly considering my suggestion. “I don’t know. Seems like a long shot … but it’s a thought.”

Taking his hand in both of mine, I say, “I know it’s hard—and just sucks—but you know you have to do something.” Dre nods, scraping the frost off his mug with his other hand.

“But … but … if you decide to do nothing … I’m gonna do nothing with you.” He looks up at me, sadly. “I’m not going anywhere, Dre. You’re pretty amazing. The way you take care of people, help people, and even find ways to try to forgive people is remarkable. My mom’s right. You’re a keeper.”

“She thinks I’m a keeper?” he asks, sheepishly. I nod, winking at him.

Then he says, “Just wait until you tell her all this crap—she’ll be changing her tune then.”

“She already knows Dre. We’re keeping you—as long as you want to be kept,” I joke, feeling the unmistakable flit of butterflies in my stomach.

“Pebbles, ever since that damn carousel ride, I’ve been sold,” he confesses.

“Oh riding behind me on that horse did it for you?” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Although that was pretty nice being up against your ass like that, riding that horse up and down, it wasn’t that ride that did it. Not even close,” Dre admits.

“Oh really, what was it then?”

“It was two things. One was watching you stare at that little girl riding the carousel. When you watched her, you looked so happy, a happiness beyond any I’ve ever experienced,” Dre says, his face grim, remorseful.

Shaking his head, he adds, “I thought ‘shit if some strange little girl does that to her, what would her face look like if it was … was… Fuck, just forget it.”

“Dre Donley, are you getting shy on me?” I ask, smacking his hand playfully.

“Let me make this easier for you … yes … if she were mine, then I’d be that happy every minute of my life. Having kids really is my ultimate fantasy.” Dre looks away, definitely shyly, obviously a trait I didn’t know he possessed. “So what was the second one?”

“That’s easy. Watching your face on the ride. It just glowed,” Dre recalls. “Lately, I’ve dreamed of meeting someone who didn’t care about money and all that. When I saw how excited you were, how much fun you were having … I just knew … knew I could never let you go.”

Dre takes my hand and brings it close to his lips, but stops when we hear, “I heard, but I didn’t fucking believe it. I can’t fucking believe you’d come back here, Adrian.” Dre’s eyes widen. Then his head and shoulders fall as he drops my hand quickly back onto the table.

I turn only to see the most beautiful, well-put together, classy woman I’ve ever seen. I’d never tell Sydney this, but she makes Syd look like—like—me. Her Burberry trench coat is cinched tightly around her tiny waist. Her legs are long and thin, and look like they were made for her leggings and riding boots. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a slick ponytail. This chick’s got the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Dang, if I weren’t straight, I’d take her home with me.

God, whoever this person is has quite the effect on Dre. He’s staring at her as if he can’t see anything else in the room. I wonder briefly if my skin is turning the dark shade of green that I’m feeling wash over me.

Dre averts his eyes, shaking his head. “Hi Waverly,” he says, resignedly, “it’s good to see you.”

“Who’s your friend?” she asks, never glancing my way. Dre was right; he dated some stunning women.

“Waverly Harrington, this is my … my … friend, Kathryn Howell,” Dre answers wearily.

Oh no. He just called me his “friend,” the kiss of death. I thought we’d just covered this. Crap, he’s always going to be the unattainable commitment-phobic drifter, no matter how hard he tries. Frankly, I’m getting discouraged with all this.

“Friend?” Waverly says, snidely. “If that’s all—”

“Well, it would’ve been more,” Dre offers, “but you showed up and interrupted us. I was about to tell, Pebbles, here how she is the most beautiful, loving, forgiving, and incredible woman I’ve ever known.”

Dre picks my hand back up, massages my palms, and says, “No one holds a candle to you, Babe. You’re all I ever wanted.”

Waverly’s eyes narrow, glaring at us angrily. Dre continues, “I was going to say all those things to her, but you came over. I guess she’ll never know that I’m completely in love with her—have never loved anyone more.”

“You’re a fucking prick, Adrian. No wonder your family disowned your ass. I dodged a goddamn bullet when I dumped you and your limp dick,” Waverly seethes, before storming away.

We watch her walk away, both of us smirking devilishly. Turning to him, I say, “She must not be all that good in bed if she couldn’t get you hard. I think it’s pretty easy.”

Laughing, he says, “Pebbles, you’re too much.”

“By the way, Dre,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I fell for you on that carousel too—if we’re being honest.”

“You liked the feel of my di—”

“Yes, that was nice. It was more like the added bonus, not the deal-sealer for me though.” I confess.

“So what was?”

“That’s easy, when you stood up on the moving horse and started singing while everyone was staring at us, I was smitten,” I admit, taking a long slow drink of my beer, trying to figure out how to explain this to him.

“I’d spent so much time with Theodore, wishing he was more fun, more spontaneous, but he never was,” I complained. “Just once, I wanted him to shock me, make me laugh … anything, but it never happened. I knew I didn’t want a ‘predictable forever.’ I want surprises, moments of magic.”

Laughing, Dre says, “Well damn Pebbles, I guess I nailed that surprises part.”

“You sure did,” I agree. “But, you’ve pretty much got the magic nailed too.”

“Baby, don’t you worry. I got a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

The next morning, after finishing our coffee, we exit the café, holding hands. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” I ask, feeling like I’m going to puke.

“No, I don’t want to … but I’m going to,” Dre confirms, as we walk across the street to the apartment building. “I can’t believe how easily you got her address.”

“Hey now, Syd and I have some serious stalking skills,” I boast, squeezing his hand tighter as we walk into the building. “I’m not gonna tell you how many nights I ‘Googled’ you and came up with nothing. I can’t wait until I get home, and I can ‘Google’ Adrian O’Donnell.”

“Remind me to destroy your computer when we get back,” he says, glancing at the numbers on the elevator. “Well here goes nothing.”