Love at 11 (23 page)

She’d evidently been picked up buying meth from an undercover cop at a nightclub. It was pretty common, the cop said. Meth was huge among San Diego teens. Cheap and available and highly addictive.

As he explained this, I wanted to cry. To tell him that the officer must have made some mistake and arrested the wrong girl. That my baby sister would never do hardcore drugs. Meth was for white trash desert rats, not middle-class all-American girls from normal nurturing families.

But then reality smacked me upside the head and I stayed silent, bearing the cop’s judgmental look as he spoke to me.
How could you let her get so out of control?
he seemed to ask.
You’re her sister. Why couldn’t you stop her?

The sun had peeked over the horizon when we finally arrived back at my apartment. I tucked a listless Lulu, who refused to speak, into my bed and took my place on the sofa. As exhausted as I was at that point, I couldn’t sleep. I think I was secretly worried she’d try to sneak past me and out of the house. Just in case, I got up and strategically stacked a few soda cans in front of the door. At least then if she tried to open it, I’d wake up.

By that time it was late enough to reasonably call in sick at work. I phoned and left a message on Laura’s voice mail, coughing a little for effect. It sucked to call in because I wanted nothing more than to work on my Mexican drug piece. The one time in my life I actually wanted to go to work. But Lulu’s problems couldn’t be put off any longer. I had to go to my dad.

I finally fell into a restless sleep. When I awakened, it was past noon. The soda cans still stood like sentries guarding the front door. I rose from the couch and peeked into the bedroom. Lulu lay there, sleeping like the dead.

I called my dad. “Maddy!”

He sounded overjoyed to hear my voice. Well, he damn well should be. If it weren’t for Lulu, he’d still be getting the silent treatment. Unfortunately I couldn’t sign her into rehab without parental consent. And since last I heard by e-mail, Mom was climbing to Everest base camp, that left the family terminator—aka Dad—to sort out the mess.

“We’ve got to talk.”

“I’m so glad you called,” he gushed, ignoring my tone of voice. “You know, when you said you never wanted to talk to me again, that was the hardest day of my life.”

I almost felt guilty. Almost.

“Can you come over? It’s about Lulu.”

He paused. “Well, actually, today’s kind of bad….”

I gritted my teeth. Why did I bother? Then I reminded myself he didn’t know the seriousness of the situation.

“This is important, Dad.”

“I’m sure it is. It’s just—well, I promised Cindi I’d go shopping for cribs with her today.”

That was his excuse? His daughter was on the fast track to self-destruction and death and he had to go freaking shopping for an unborn baby who wouldn’t even need a crib for another six months?

“Fine. Whatever. Forget I called.” I’d figure out some other way to get her in treatment. Forge his signature, whatever it took.

“No, wait! Don’t hang up.”

I stayed on the line. “What?”

“I’ll come by,” he said quickly. “I’ll just tell Cindi I’ll meet her afterward.”

“Fine.” I hung up the phone and slumped back over to the couch to await his arrival.

To his credit, he showed up ten minutes later, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. Divorce evidently agreed with him—he looked refreshed, tanned. It made me even more annoyed.

Against my will, he immediately grabbed me in a huge bear hug. The type he used to give me after coming home from a business trip when I was little. He’d ring the doorbell three times in a row, so I’d know it was him. I’d come rushing to the front hall and throw myself into his arms. He’d spin me around the house until my mother forced him to stop, lest I throw up on her carpet.

Who would have thought Super Dad would end up Super Asshole?

“I’ve missed you, Maddy,” he murmured into my ear. “So much.”

I could feel my defenses melting, but forced myself to stay strong. This man may have donated a sperm to me, but he’d also betrayed our family. He’d left his youngest daughter to fend for herself way before she was ready.

I pulled away from the embrace. “We need to talk about Lulu.”

He glanced around the room. “Is she here? When is she coming home, do you think? I miss having her around.”

I stared at him. “Why did you even let her come here in the first place? She’s not old enough to live on her own.”

He sighed as he made his way over to the couch and sat down. “I tried. She won’t talk to me.”

“You didn’t try hard enough,” I rebuked him. “Now she’s almost flunked out of school. She stays out all night partying.”

His eyes widened. “What? Why are you letting her do that? You’re her big sister. You should be—”

“Be what? Standing over her every second of the day?” I snorted. “Be realistic, Dad. There’s only so much I can do. And besides, technically none of this is my job. You and Mom are the parents, not me. And neither of you seem to give a shit that your youngest daughter is going off like a suicide bomber in Baghdad.”

I didn’t realize how angry I was until I started bitching him out. It felt good, actually. Relieved some of the pressure that had built up inside me.

Dad stared at his hands. At least he had the decency to look remorseful. “Your mother and I are going through what the psychiatrists call a selfish stage,” he explained. “We spent the last twenty-seven years as parents. It’s time for us to spend some time making ourselves happy as well.”

What?! Oh, puh-leeze. He thought I was going to just bend over and take that load of bull?

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble of selfish joy, Dad, but we have a problem.” I took a deep breath. “Lulu got arrested last night.”

“What?” Instantly Dad popped back into parent mode. “What for?” he demanded.

“Drugs.”

He stared at me. “Dr-drugs?” he asked, his voice trembling. “You mean, like pot, right?”

“No, Dad, I mean like fucking crystal meth. I mean like one of the most addictive drugs on the planet. And this wasn’t her first time, either. The girl is a major druggie.”

“Oh, God.” He leaned back against the couch and shut his eyes. “I had no idea. My little baby girl. My Lulu. A drug addict?” He opened his eyes. “Are you sure they didn’t make a mistake?”

“I’m sure.”

He moaned, staring at the ceiling. “This is my fault. I should have been there for her.”

It was hard to watch. Growing up, my dad had always been in perfect control of every situation, never displaying any emotion. He was a rock, my dad. But to see him now, looking so guilty, so defeated, I felt myself soften.

“It’s no one’s fault,” I told him. “She hid it well. But now that we know, we need to help her.” What a surreal feeling, to be reassuring one’s parent. Before now, it’d always been the other way around.

He nodded. I could almost see his brain working, formulating an in-control Dad plan. “We’ll get her into rehab. Twenty-eight days. I’ll call some places right now.” He rose from the couch. “Where’s your phone book?”

I sighed in relief and went to retrieve my Yellow Pages. It was so nice to have Dad back in control. To have the responsibility and stress lifted from my shoulders. I should have gone to him in the first place.

I handed him the phone book and he put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a warm hug. This time I didn’t resist and buried my face in his chest. “I’m so sorry you felt you had to deal with this by yourself, Maddy,” he said. “I wish you had come to me in the first place.” He squeezed me tighter. “I love you. And nothing can change that. Not Cindi. Not a new baby. You and Lulu are still my girls and I love you both to death.”

I leaned closer into the hug, feeling warm and safe for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Daddy was back. Now everything would be okay. I hoped.

Chapter Fourteen

FROM
: “David Johns”

TO
: “Madeline Madison”

SUBJECT
: Reardon Oil

Hi Baby Doll,

Guess what? Brock and I are getting married! Isn’t that sooo wonderful? Last night, he decided to leap out of that proverbial closet in a single bound—like Superman, only in Armani instead of that tacky spandex outfit! His dad, Senator Gorman, is absolutely pissed, of course, which makes the whole process even more delicious. Yes, I know, I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, but Maddy darling, when it’s love, it’s love!!!!

Oh, I asked Brock about that Reardon Oil company and while he said he never heard of such a business, he immediately recognized the guy in your photo. Evidently the fatso’s name is Ronald “Rocky” Rodriguez and he’s president of the Association for California Car Dealers. He and Brock’s dad evidently go way back. UCSD frat buddies or some shit like that. Rocky owns Pacific Coast Cars in San Diego. You remember those cheesy ads you always see on News 9, don’t you? “If I can’t beat their price I’ll drown myself in the Pacific!” That’s him. I totally didn’t recognize him without that goofy llama he always has with him on the TV ads. J

Anyway, on to more important topics. I found the most fabulous Vera Wang and put down a deposit. I’m going to be a June bride—isn’t that so wonderfully clichéd? Oh, and if you can make it up to San Fran, I’d love for you to be a bridesmaid.

Love and Kisses, David

I was still pretty exhausted. Yesterday my father and I spent the whole day trying to find a teen rehab facility that would take Lulu. It seemed every single place was booked solid. (Which, I thought, didn’t bode well for the future of San Diego’s youth.) In the late afternoon, we finally found a small private hospital with an extra bed. It took some major convincing, dragging her against her will, but we finally got her checked in.

At least work was going well. Getting an e-mail from David revealing the identity of the guy in the Reardon Oil photo was a major coup. (Though I wasn’t convinced he and Brock should get married so soon … ) Now it made perfect sense why the car with dealer plates had been there to pick up the drugs. Evidently Mr. Rocky Rodriguez had a little side business going on. Now I just needed to prove it.

“You’re back!”

I looked up to see Jamie enter my cubicle, an overjoyed expression on his way too handsome face. All work matters fled my mind and my heart panged its appreciation of seeing him again. One day off and I’d missed him terribly.

Things had changed between us since our near death escape. It was like we had this deep connection now. Something beyond sex. Beyond words. Beyond a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. Unsaid and unrefined, but definitely there.

“Hi, Jamie,” I said with a small smile. Did he feel it, too? The tension in the cubicle? He sat down in David’s seat.

“How are you doing?” he asked, studying me with those heartbreaking eyes of his. “When you weren’t here yesterday, I worried that …”

“I’m fine,” I reassured him. “I just had to deal with a family thing.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his expression illuminating his concern. I suddenly realized that I did want to talk about it. I wanted to share my grief and worry with him. Let go of the heavy burden I’d been carrying around.

I looked around. News 9 Cubicle Land, however, was not the best place to off-load.

He caught my glance. “Let’s go to Starbucks,” he said.

I nodded, relieved. It was as if he could read my mind.

A few minutes later we sat down in the comfortable purple velvet chairs to sip our coffees and I told him the whole sordid Lulu tale. He listened with rapt attention and, when I’d finished, he placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. I knew it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it sparked something else inside. Something

I was trying very hard to ignore.

“I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all that,” he said, removing his hand. “You’ve had quite a week, huh?”

I nodded, feeling my throat constrict. I willed myself not to cry.

“And what I did to you probably didn’t help much,” he said with a sigh, staring down at his coffee. “I feel terrible.”

I shook my head. I didn’t share my story with him to gain his pity. “Listen, Jamie. There’s no need to apologize,” I insisted. “You said what needed to be said. You gave me my much needed reality check. You have a fiancée. Period. End of story. It’s better that you laid it on the line before …” I trailed off. I’d begun to stupidly say before I fell too deeply in love with him. But I couldn’t say that. I’d sound like a total loser.

“What I said in Calla Verda—in that motel room—I said out of fear,” Jamie said slowly. “You see, I thought I had my life all figured out. Then you came along and turned me completely upside down. What I had with you—what we shared—started becoming more important to me than my relationship with my fiancée. I started looking forward to talking to you more than her. And that scared the hell out of me, to tell you the honest truth.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve always considered myself a decent guy. If I make a commitment, I follow through. And yet, suddenly I was having all these doubts. Like, what if Jen and I really had grown apart and I had been in denial all this time? Would marrying her make everything okay? Would we reconnect and fall in love all over again? Or would it be a huge, huge mistake that was going to make me miserable for years to come?”

I stared at him, my head spinning, not knowing what to say. Was he doing another reversal on me?

“None of this has anything to do with you, exactly,” he continued. “Only that I started really caring about you and thinking about you all the time and wanting to be with you. But at the same time, I realized how completely unfair I was being to you—forcing you into the role of the other woman because I couldn’t resist having you in my life. I’m not a jerk, Maddy. I’m really not. And so I realized I had to do something.”