Hawk: (7 page)

Sarah looked stunned, and Abby stood up.

“I- I didn’t mean it!” Tildy lied. “I just said something stupid! What, you’ve never said anything stupid before? I do it all the time. And you thought it was funny to laugh at the idiot girl. And you lied to me!” Tildy accused, even though it wasn’t
exactly true. Sarah had not outright lied. “You told me Hawk had been to jail! You made it sound like he was dangerous! But you just didn’t want me around your friend.”

“Sarah!” Abby chastised.

Sarah’s face fell. “I did. I did kind of make it sound like Hawk was this big, scary guy and so he and Tildy weren’t right for each other. I didn’t want you to get hurt.

Tildy glared daggers at her.

Sarah sighed. “Okay and I thought maybe you were a little crazy. I didn’t want trouble for Hawk.”

“I wasn’t going to make trouble.”

“Well, I didn’t know.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“I think,” Abby declared,” that we could all use a drink. Tildy, you want a drink?”

Tildy tore her gaze away from Sarah. “Oh. I don’t really...I mean...”

“Bah,” Abby replied. “You need one. I need one. Slick here needs one. Drinks all around.”

A martini and a half later, Tildy was far less angry. In fact
, she was fighting off a smile.

“I was so
mad
!” Sarah cried. “I’d worked my ass off making it, and Chris had hidden a fire extinguisher under the stairs in case I set the deck on fire.”

“Did you?” Tildy asked.

“No!”

“I would have.”

“Me, too,” Abby concurred. “She and Tex both have tried to teach me to cook. It’s a Work in Progress.”

“I never learned,” Tildy admitted. “We have a cook.” Then she felt embarrassed, but Abby laughed.

“I had room service my whole life,” Abby told her.

“You lived
in a hotel?”

Abby nodded. “In Vegas. I was born and raised there.”

“That’s why you’re called Vegas.”

“Yep.”

Tildy looked at Sarah. “So, why are you called Slick?”

Slick scowled. Abby laughed. “Because Chris thought I was a con arti
st when we first met,” Sarah muttered.

“Really?” Tildy asked, eyes wide.

Slick took another sip of her martini and rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t think that now.”

“Well, I hope not!” said Tildy. “He married you.”

“Actually,” Sarah replied. “
I
married
him.
”

Tildy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I left. Then I came back, and I said, ‘We’re getting married. Next weekend.’ ”

Tildy considered this as she drank. “Maybe that would work on Hawk.”

The other two women paused.

“I’m kidding!” Tildy cried. “Kind of.”

“What made you say that?” Sarah pressed.

Tildy wasn’t sure if it was strictly the alcohol or also the fact that never in her life had she done anything like have ‘girl talk’ over martinis in a friend’s living room. In the back of her mind, she did acknowledge that they weren’t really friends, but she preferred not to dwell on it.

She took out the medal that was hanging inside her blouse. “The woman who raised me gave me this. She always told me that if I got lost, it would help me find my way home. I’ve worn it almost every day for 14 years, and it never, ever broke until Hawk touched me for the first time.”

Both women looked at each other and then back at Tildy.

“Aw!” they both cried.

“Oh.
My. God!” said Sarah. “Romantic!”

“Wow,” said Abby.

“It doesn’t mean anything though,” Tildy replied. “I mean, I’m not in love with Hawk. I barely even know him. And he obviously doesn’t want to get to know me.” She glanced wistfully at the back door.

“He’s just weirded out over the marriage thing,” Abby replied. “He’s totally commitment phobic.”

“Why?”

“Chris said it’s because his parents are divorced. So’s his sister.”

Tildy made a face. “That kid. Emilio? He said, ‘One night only.’ I thought he was joking.”

The other two women grimaced. “No,” Sarah confirmed. “Pretty much that’s how it is. But he’s honest about it up front. He doesn’t lie or make empty promises. Sometimes girls think they can change his mind. Never ends well.”

Tildy fingered her medal and glanced at the door again. “I couldn’t change his mind,” she sighed. Not Tildy with her too plain face and lack of brains or grace. The silence from Sarah and Abby told her they agreed.

An hour later, Abby insisted on driving Tildy home since she was still a little out of it. Tildy fumbled a bit as she put her seat belt on.

Abby laughed at her. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t drink, were you?”

She started the engine and pulled out of Tex’s driveway.

“I can’t believe this is your car,” Tildy said, glancing around. “It’s really nice.” The black interior was leather and it shined as brightly as
the seats of Tildy’s Mercedes.

“You should have seen it when I bought it,” Abby told her. “It was a mess.”

“Did Tex fix it up for you?”

“No!” Abby scoffed. “I’ll have you know I
found this car myself, haggled the kid down, and fixed it mostly on my own.” She smiled slyly. “Tex came over a lot to
help
me with it. But really he just wanted to hang out.”

Tildy couldn’t tell if she was more surprised at the idea of a woman fixing her own car
, or a guy as hot as Tex making up excuses to spend time with a girl. Neither of those were possibilities for Tildy.

“I can’t fix anything,” Tildy admitted.
Not even my own life
, she thought.

Abby just shrugged. “Just a thing you learn, like anything else.”

Tildy scowled, thinking of all the things she’d never learned- or not learned well enough at any rate.

Abby made the turns at Ti
ldy’s behest, and they soon came upon Tildy’s well-to-do neighborhood. She sank into the seat, feeling embarrassed and awkward. Half a block from the house she said, “Could you stop here for a second?”

Abby pulled over.

Tildy peered at the house. The garage doors usually remained open during the day, if someone was home, but they were closed now.

“What are we looking for?” Abby asked
, following Tildy’s gaze.

“Just seeing if they’re home. They’re not,” Tildy said, relieved.
“I can get out here,” she offered. She reached for the seat belt buckle.

“No, I can pull up,” Abby insisted.

She did, parking in front of the Fletcher house.

Tildy put her weight into the door and half stumbled out. It was a very good thing her parents weren’t home.
Abby got out too. Tildy was about to protest when Abby said, “You’re blitzed, girl. I’m walking you in.”

Tildy put one hand on the car’s frame to steady herself and nodded.

Abby helped her to the door, and Tildy punched the alarm code before opening the front door and heading inside.

“Wow,” Abby intoned
, looking around the two-story entryway. The heels of her boots clicked on the marble. In the living room, Abby’s eyes were still wide. “It’s like a museum,” she declared. “I feel like I shouldn’t touch anything.”

Tildy snorted. “You and me both.”

“I can’t imagine growing up here.”

“Well, you don’t,” Tildy replied. “You just sort of go from
3 to 30.” Tildy turned too fast and her head swam a little.

Abby grabbed her shoulder. “Whoa there. Let’s get you upstairs.”

The pair of them left the living room. As they entered her bedroom, Abby made a face that was halfway between horror and pity. It was hard to say which girl would throw up in her mouth first.

“I know,” Tildy groaned
, waving her hand dismissively.

“Well,” Abby declared. “At least when you finally do get married, you can just take all this lace, sew it together, and have a dress with a train that stretches out to the Black Hills.

Tildy rolled her eyes. She unfastened her medal, gathered it into her palm, and stuffed it into the pillowcase. She then picked up the sundress and wrap that her mother had laid over the foot of the bed that morning.

“That’s cute
at least,” Abby told her.

Tildy opened the closet door. “I was supposed to wear it to brunch today,” she said hanging up the clothes.

“You could have worn it to the barbecue.”

Tildy’s nose wrinkled. “I’ve never been to a barbecue,” she admitted. “I wasn’t sure.”

“It might have been better,” Abby pointed out, as Tildy unbuttoned her shirt and slid it down. “Without the wrap of course,” Abby added. “Too hot.”

It was then that Tildy’s gin soaked brain remembered what the wrap was for
, why she’d chosen a long-sleeved shirt, and how she’d simply rolled up the sleeves. “Oh, crap,” she mumbled and tried to yank her shirt back up. But it was too late.

“Tildy?” Abby asked, eyes wide.

“Crap,” Tildy whispered. “Crap, crap, crap.” She struggled to get the shirt back up, but Abby grabbed one of Tildy’s wrists, stretched her arm out straight, and pulled the shirt back down with her other hand.

“Tildy, what happened?”

Tildy glanced down at the rainbow of different colored bruises in various stages of healing on her upper arms. “Nothing,” she replied calmly. “I bruise easily.” She pulled her arm out of Abby’s grip and her shirt up at the same time. “It’s nothing,” she insisted. “It’s not-”

“Did you do that to yourself?”

Tildy gaped at her. “What?
No!
Of course not! I-”

“Matilda?”

Tildy froze as her mother’s voice drifted up from downstairs.

“Matilda, are you home?”

Tildy broke out of her half-drunk stupor, and her fingers started flying over the buttons of her shirt. “No, no, no, no, no,” she whispered frantically to herself.

Abby turned and looked at the open doorway and then back to Tildy.

“Matilda, there’s a strange car in front of the house.” The voice was getting closer. Tildy swallowed the rising bile in the back of her throat and looked at Abby.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Tildy?”

Tildy shook her head wildly. “No! Please. My name is Matilda.
Not Tildy
. And don’t say anything about the bruises. Don’t let her know you know about them.
Please
,” Tildy begged.

Before Abby could respond
, Tildy’s mother appeared in the doorway. Her shrewd eyes took in first Tildy, then Abby. Tildy felt panicked but, Abby only smiled. “That’s mine,” she replied.

“Have we met
?” Deirdre Fletcher asked carefully.

“
No, ma’am. I’m Abigail Raines.”

Deirdre turned her gaze to Tildy. “Matilda? You didn’t tell me you were having a friend over. You said you didn’t feel well. You skipped brunch.”

“She doesn’t,” Abby answered. “Feel well, that is. So, I just came to check on her.”

Tildy swallowed
hard, unable to say anything, which was probably best anyway.

Deirdre smiled
, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m certain we haven’t met.”

Abby shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Deirdre looked from Abby to Tildy. “Are you one of Matilda’s friends from school?”

Abby shook her head again. “No,
I just moved to South Dakota this spring, from Las Vegas.”

“Las Vegas,” Deirdre replied incredulously.

Abby just smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I bought the Custer Hotel just recently.”

At this
, Deirdre Fletcher’s entire demeanor changed. The temperature in the room spiked considerably. “The Custer? Oh, we’d heard Aaron sold it, but we hadn’t heard who bought it.” She positively beamed at Abby. “The Custer,” she said again. “You’re so young!”

Ab
by nodded. “I graduated early, and I had some family money. The Custer was the perfect investment property.”

“Well, of course! It’s just beautiful. It’s a shame Aaron let it get away from him after his f
ather left it to him. But you know Aaron never had the head for business that his father did. Perhaps it’s best he didn’t live to see Aaron lose it.” Her eyes then cut to Tildy, and she felt herself shrink under her mother’s scrutiny. “It’s always hard when children are a disappointment.” She turned back to Abby. “How do you know
Matilda
?” She emphasized Tildy’s name as though Tildy was a piece of toilet paper clinging to Abby’s boot, rather than an actual friend.

Then Tildy reminded herself that she and Abby Raines
weren’t
actually friends. She started to panic a little. Her mother could never know about Hawk, Maria’s or the barbecue.

“Skylar,” Abby said matter of factly.

Deirdre considered it and nodded. “Skylar’s cousin had her wedding at the Custer in May.” She wrinkled her nose. “Frankly, we weren’t that impressed. Aaron really let the place go. We were going to have Matilda’s reception at the Washington.”

Abby pressed her lips together, hiding the fact that this was the first she was hearing of Tildy’s impending nuptials. “I know,” she replied. “I’m hard at work now on renovations. The Custer should have its official historic status on the first of the year.”

Deirdre smiled. “Well, we’d love a tour when it’s complete. I was thinking of a spring wedding.” As though she’d just officially realized she was chatting with a hotel mogul, rather than one of Tildy’s college friends, she said, “I’m sorry. Would you like some tea?”

Tildy held her breath. The longer Abby and her mother talked, the more chance
s there would be that something might slip. Thankfully, Abby shook her head. “Oh, I can’t stay. I have plans. I just came to check on Matilda.”

Both women turned to Tildy.

“I still don’t feel well,” Tildy said quietly. “I’m going to lay down.”

Deirdre nodded, Tildy all but forgotten as she led Abby downstairs, schmoozing her all
the way.

Tildy sighed in relief. She brushed her teeth to hide the smell of alcohol, changed into more comfortable clothes, and crawled into bed.
For reassurance, she pinched the medal tucked into the pillowcase and closed her eyes.