Crazy Maybe (20 page)

When Dad assures her that he wasn’t the one who leaked those pictures, I think he was trying to tell me, too.  Because if he had been the one who did that, I don’t know that I could ever forgive him for that.  Even if he is my dad – that would just be too much.  I wish I knew what all this is really about because I see the pure panic in Andi’s face.  Her words confirm the danger involved.  But she also says that people other than her or my family are now in danger. 

What.  The.  Hell.  Happened?

She’s so ready to bolt but something is keeping her here.  She’s signed the papers, the property is my dad’s, but she’s still sitting here.  Bill suddenly gets up and within a few seconds is back with another man.  When I hear his name, I instantly know who he is.  And I know that the only way he could know about this meeting is either through Andi or her lawyer, because my dad’s company is not in this man’s league.  This man is more in Donald Trump’s league.

Andi suddenly looks a little self-conscious.  She’s fidgeting and keeping her eyes averted from me so that I can’t see them at all.  I can’t see what kind of look she has, because she doesn’t have a poker face at all – her eyes always give her away.  And that makes me even more suspicious and I know somehow she’s arranged this meeting with my dad and Donovan.  She keeps amazing me.

When I glance at the offer from Donovan, I know for a fact that Andi arranged this.  The amount is insane and there’s no way a man with his experience and resources would give that much for all the property my dad now owns.  Even though it’s prime real estate and is the equivalent of the entire block.  Donovan would find a way to squeeze any opponents and get it at the bottom dollar.  He didn’t make his money and reputation by being this generous.  Andi is generous to a fault, even when she has no reason to be.

Andi tries to make her exit as soon as Hugh leaves but I have been waiting for this.  I stand as she does and my parents rise from their seats.  She finally looks me in the eye and I’m ready myself to talk to her but she’s whirled around and rushing for the door in a split second.  She suddenly stops and the hurt in her voice is like a dagger in my heart.  I know she directed her statement at my dad, but it applies to me, too.

“
With your new found wealth, hopefully you’ll find your friends are more loyal than some of mine have been
.” 

Then she’s out the door and walking swiftly towards the elevators.  I’m on her heels before I know it and my hand reaches out to grab hers.

“Andi,” I say on a whisper.

She turns to me and I see tears in her eyes, though she’s fighting hard to keep them from falling down her cheeks.  My hand cups her cheek and for just a few seconds, she leans her face into my hand and closes her eyes.  A single tear rolls down her cheek and I wipe it away with the thumb of my other hand.  She suddenly tenses and jerks her head up, out of my caress. 

She swallows hard, “What do you want, Luke?”

“I want to talk.  I’ve called, sent texts and even came to your house.  I’m just asking for time – time to say the things I need to say and time to hear whatever you have to say to me.  Please.”

Her eyes slowly roam around the empty hallway, taking time to thoroughly study the carpet and the elevator buttons, before she softly replies, “Our
time
has passed, Luke.”

All the oxygen in the building has suddenly been sucked out because
I.  Can’t.  Fucking.  Breathe
.

“No,” I say on what I’m sure the last bit of oxygen reserves I have in my lungs.

“It’s too late, Luke,” she replies with a choke. 

The elevator dings, the door opens and she walks backwards until she’s inside it.  Our eyes remain locked on each other as the doors close.  I don’t care that we’re on the 16
th
floor.  I hit the stairs and take them two…or sometimes five…at a time until I’m busting out the door into the lobby.  The security guard at the front desk startles at the sound of the door slamming into the wall as I run to the elevators. 

My chest is heaving but not from the physical exertion of running down the stairs but from my heart that’s splintering into a million pieces inside me.  I reach the elevator just before the doors open and I get my speech ready to make her listen to me.  If I have to carry her out of her thrown over my shoulder like a fucking caveman, I will do it.  I block the doors and get ready for a fight….but she’s not there.

ANDI

Time?  He wants time to talk – now?  After my psychiatric-patient pictures have been splattered all over the news and internet, he decides he wants to talk to me.  After his father tries to blackmail me to get the property he wanted, now he wants to talk.  After he left me at his parents’ house, broke his promise, broke my heart and just fucking walked away from me, now he wants to talk. 

A thought takes root in my mind….something I haven’t considered until now. 
He was in on this from the start – that’s why he reacted that way.
  His dad gave him his planned out that night – a way out of our relationship and away from me.  It makes sense to me now – why else would he not even ask me any questions?  Why else would he drive off and leave me stranded with the very people who were blackmailing me? 

He’s the one who needs to be in the psych ward, dammit!

My anger hits a boiling point and I hit the button for the next floor and get off the elevator.  I make my way back up to the 16
th
floor to give him a minute of my time – intent on only telling him what’s on my mind and not giving him a chance to say anything.  But he’s not there when I exit the other elevator and I run into his parents, who are more than a little shocked to see me again so soon. 

I brush past them without a word and barely a glance as I walk towards Bill’s office.  I’m still looking around for Luke because I’m intent on finishing this now. 
Closure
.  Not finding him, I go back to the elevator and I’m relieved to see his parents have already left.  I hit the button for the 6
th
floor to take the bridge to the parking lot.  My phone beeps in my purse, telling me I have a text.  It’s from Luke.

L:  Andi….please

U and ur dad got what u wanted.  Stop pretending now & leave me alone.

L: NO, Andi, that’s not

He didn’t finish his text but now my phone is ringing.  He’s calling me to finish his sentence and have this conversation out verbally but he’s shit out of luck.  I have nothing more to say to him.  I decline his call and every consecutive one after that until I turn my phone off to be left alone.  I consider stopping by the cell phone store to get my number changed but decide I am way too mentally drained to do that today.  I make a mental note to do it later.

When I get home,
Christina, Tania and Katie are waiting for me in the driveway.  Thankfully they’re in one car so I open both garage doors and tell Christina to pull her car inside.  If Luke comes by and sees a car here, I know he won’t leave.  Another mental note to call that real estate agent that I’ve been meaning to call but have been putting off.

Procrastinators unite – tomorrow!

My girls don’t have to ask – they know where everything is and what I need.  They make quick work with the margarita machine and soon we’re all headed to Margaritaville with Jimmy.  I give them a recap of my day and I’m infinitely grateful that they don’t need all the details of my mental hospital stay to believe me when I say it was all based on a lie.  They know me well enough to let me have a little breathing room and time to regroup.

Christina
turns on my iPhone to put it on the speaker dock and one text after another comes through all at once.  Followed by notifications of numerous voicemails.  We ignore them, turn on the music and turn up the volume.  The hot tub on my back porch has never felt better than it does right now.  We’re all in it, only leaving the hot water and relaxing jets to use the margarita machine and refill our pitcher.  Several times.

I’m thankful to have a large house with multiple bedrooms and bathrooms because everyone will be staying with me tonight.  Actually, we have done this pretty frequently, so every one of them have some clothes here.  And whatever they don’t have, they know they can just take mine – except my toothbrush, of course.  It feels a lot like when we were in college and all shared a 4-person dorm room.

I don’t know what I’d do without my fun and supportive best friends.

Friday night at the club with my girls, I plan to get my drink on and try to feel better.  I still haven’t talked to Luke or responded to his daily text messages.  And I obviously haven’t changed my number yet.  But I have started back at the gym instead of letting him run me off from one of the few places that have ever felt like home to me.  I am glad that we’ve somehow missed each other all week, though.  I’m not getting into this front of Mack and the guys. 

Tonight is my real birthday celebration though – with my real friends.  We meet at a small sports bar before heading to the club later.  After my last performance, I left the club before finding out if I had advanced to the finals or not.  At the time I didn’t really care, but when Mitch sent me a text to let me know I’m one of the five finalists set to perform next weekend, I have to admit I was excited.  So now I have to figure out what song I’m going to sing.  I have an idea but I need to work out the details in my mind first.

It’s still early, but the restaurant-slash-bar is already pretty full.  The two TVs over the bar are on the local channels and we’re sharing some appetizers when I hear the reporter saying my name again.  I roll my eyes as I say, “I thought my 15 minutes of fame was over.”

The silence at the table is suddenly deafening.  I look up to see Christina, Tania and Katie’s stunned faces.  I whip my head around to the TV and they’re showing the youth center.  I’m being investigated for my involvement with the kids and what kind of influence I am on them. 

There’s a social worker, who has never met me, giving an interview and reciting all the ways that I may be a threat to the children.  They’re questioning who approved me to work there.  They cut to a parent who is asking if I will be suspended until an investigation can be conducted.

They don’t even know that it’s my personal money that funds that youth center.  They’ve never questioned my involvement or my motives before this week.  They’ve never cared that while some of the parents were too high on drugs to care for their own children, I was feeding, clothing and protecting them from the dangers of the neighborhood.  Or when the parents were working multiple jobs and long hours just to try to make ends meet, I was helping their children with their homework and doing everything possible to keep them in school.  But suddenly, I’m the monster who has been hiding in plain sight and feeding on their children without them even knowing it.

The reporter is holding up the front page of several different publications – magazines, tabloids, and newspapers – with various headlines but all about the mental hospital, the youth center or my alleged attack on my foster father.  It’s sickening how the vultures have descended upon me and have torn me apart without the first shred of evidence.  The term “innocent until proven guilty” has never really rang true with me – why else would someone have to
defend
themselves?  It’s more like “guilty until proven innocent, but even then doubt will always remain.”

I bury my face in my hands for a minute.  I am not retreating, I am not giving up, and I am not caving in.  I am simply refortifying and readying myself for all-out battle.  I can’t avoid this any longer – it’s impacting the youth center now and there are too many kids who need support.  And if my former foster family has any foster kids now, they need to be protected more than anyone I know.  I steel my nerves and take a deep breath as I raise my face to my girls.

“It’s about time to head to the club,” I firmly state. 

Our usual table is inhabited by the usual suspects – Shane, Will, Brandon and of course, Luke.  He has his back to me and doesn’t know I’m here yet.  So I walk to the DJ booth and tell him to queue up a song for me.  I had a few drinks at the pub we just left, I’m pissed and I’m really fucking hurt, so I’m going to take it out on the stage.  The song,
Just A Fool
,
is actually a duet between Christina Aguilera and Blake Shelton, but tonight I’m singing it solo.  And I’m singing it with every bit of emotion I have bubbling just below the surface of my cool façade.

The lyrics are perfect for me right now.  I obviously feel like a fool because I can’t get over him and I can’t let him go, but I know I should.  I feel like I’m weak for wanting him to make this all up to me.  For even thinking I could forgive him if he would just do something to take this pain away.  Love feels like a cruel joke and no one has hurt me in the way that he has.  I just want to forget about love and about him, but somehow he’s in every thought I have and every move I make.

I leave the stage and a friend from the gym I haven’t seen in a while stops me and asks me to dance with him.  Another slow song is playing so I step into his embrace and we take the opportunity to catch up.  He asks how I’m holding up, knowing how bad my life sucks right now, and I give him a non-committal shrug of my shoulders.  Christina taps on my arm and her gaze suddenly shifts and I turn to see what she’s looking at. 

Oh. 
It’s
Luke and he is charging forward like a bull, hell-bent on his destination.  Which happens to be me at the moment.

“Andi,” he barks at me.

“Yes,” I reply smugly.

I watch intently as he grits his teeth and clenches and flexes his hands.  His anger is barely contained and he’s working hard at restraining himself.  I know I’m not helping it but I’m no more in the mood to be fucked with right now than he is.

“I need you to come with me,” he finally says.

“No.”

He nods his head, seemingly understandingly, until I realize that I read him completely wrong.  He just decided he wasn’t going to argue with me.  In the typical method of the men in my life, he picks me up with ease, throws me over his shoulder, and charges back to the front door.  People watch with amused expressions as I scream obscenities at him like a lunatic until he reaches the door.  Then I realize we’re going outside and there may be cameras that catch me actually acting like a lunatic so I stop.

“Luke – do not walk out that door with me over your shoulder.  I’m in the news enough as it is.  I don’t need to add any
more to it,” I say in my sternest voice possible.  This stops him in his tracks and I know he hears the words I didn’t say –
thanks to your family
. 

He puts me down but doesn’t let go of me. “Then walk with me like a normal person would.”

I sigh heavily, not hiding my dislike of his demand, and respond with the typical pissed-off female response.  “Fine.”