SIX DAYS (5 page)

Without a word, my mother moved hurriedly toward her purse, phone still in hand. I rolled my eyes again when she handed me the money cashier style—one bill at a time. When she’d finished counting, I had five hundred dollars in my hand. Normally I would have balked, but I wanted to get away from her more than I wanted to argue over money.

“Oh,” Hazel said, before my mother could get the phone back to her mouth. “I’m staying at Tosh’s again tonight. Is it okay if Ryen stays, too?”

“Sure, it’s summer; you girls have a good time,” she answered quickly as she walked away. I don’t know why I was shocked; nothing she did should have surprised me anymore, but I’d never been allowed to spend two nights in a row away from home before.
Ever. I figured it was because she was anxious to get back to complaining about my father to whoever was on the phone.

“She’s burning the skin off of her face and getting injections in her lips,” I complained as Hazel and I walked out the front door.

“At least she didn’t go for that trout mouth thing,” Hazel cracked, moving her lips like a fish out of water.

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” I mumbled. “She’s just so different, like an alien has taken over her brain or something.”

“She’s a middle aged woman getting divorced because her husband left her for a younger piece. She has to work through it. The way she does it may seem crazy to you, but it’s totally normal.” I didn’t want to get used to that kind of normalcy.

I wasn’t sure why Hazel thought she knew so much about it. Her mother wasn’t middle aged and she wasn’t getting divorced. It seemed from the way Hazel talked that her mother never settled back down, or got the crazy out of her system after she was widowed. It made me wonder if my mother would end up like hers. I cringed. The thought of my mother acting like a teenager and running around with a
pervy younger man for any amount of time made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Then the thought that she just might do it in order to show my father that she could also land a younger piece, as Hazel had put it.
Gross
.

I sighed.

Hazel laughed. “Just be glad I’m not your mom, because I’d be in jail for assault right now if I was her—and possibly arson,” she snickered.

I cut my eyes at her. “Don’t give her any ideas.”

“Hazel laughed. “It’ll be okay, Hallmark. She’ll work it out of her system and things will return to their wholesome vanilla goodness before you know it.” She and I looked at each other knowing that statement was a total lie. We both knew that my life would never be vanilla again, especially if I continued to hang out with her.

Hazel drove us to her favorite store to shop for my dress. The place surprised me. It was small and advertised vintage clothing, which was really just a fancy word for used, but I wasn’t complaining. It was way better than one of those upscale boutiques my mother had recently began frequenting. The store was narrow and held so much inventory that the brick on the interior walls disappeared behind the clothes and accessories that decorated them. The room smelled of lavender, instead of the musty scent I was prepared for.

“You take that side,” Hazel instructed. “I’ll cover this one.”

Hazel and I dove in and began rummaging through the overflowing racks of clothing. The first dress she held up scared me a little. It zipped up the front—from the neckline to the bottom hem. I shook my head no.

“The zipper isn’t functional,” Hazel laughed. I still didn’t like it. “C’mon, it’s cute, and plaid is super hot right now,” she whined. I shook my head again. “Fine,” she moaned. “I’ll find something else.”

I also tried to veto Hazel’s next choice, but she forced me
to try it on. “Trust me,” she said as she shoved me into the dressing room. I reluctantly put the dress on and instantly hated that she’d been right. I was pleased with the way I looked, even though I could see my curves and too much skin. The dress was black, strapless, fitted, and short. Like nothing I’d ever worn before, but I would have been lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit sexy in it.

Hazel poked her head past the dressing room curtain. “Holy
shitballs Hallmark! You look amazing.” She went wide-eyed. “Damn girl, you’ve got a body. Why do you keep it covered up?” she asked, but didn’t let me answer. “I wish I had your boobs,” she gasped, and pushed past the curtain altogether. I crossed my arms, afraid she was going to touch them. She laughed as she reached behind me to snatch the tag off the back of the dress. “Sold,” she sang. “Now, let’s find shoes.”

“I’m not sure about the dress,” I said, stepping out of the dressing room. Hazel rolled her head toward me. “Why? It looks amazing on you and even though you probably don’t want to admit it, you felt good in it. I could see it in your face.”

“I did, I just…”

“You
wanna know how I get through the day—how I’ve survived all the tragedies in my life?  I do what I want. I do what feels good to me, and damn what anyone else thinks. You’re an adult now, Ryen. You don’t have to worry about what your mother will think. Live for you, life’s too fucking short not to. Let go of your fear of being judged. Do what makes you happy. Do what feels good because God knows that feeling good sometimes only lasts a moment. Don’t waste your time worrying about what anyone thinks of you, except you.”

I nodded. What she said made sense, but not worrying would be hard.

“Now, you’re getting that dress and those shoes.” Hazel pointed to a pair of silver, open toe heels that had a delicate rhinestone design on the straps. “And you’re going to have a fabulous time wearing them tonight, right?” she stated.

“Right,” I smiled. She made it sound so easy.

Once we’d finished at the clothing store, Hazel took me a few shops down to have my nails done. She flipped through a magazine while giving the nail tech instructions. She ordered sport-length acrylic tips for my fingers, finished with a French manicure. I also got a French manicure on my toenails. I thought it was ridiculous, but Hazel insisted that the bouncer at Lurid, the new nightclub we were going to, would look closely at me before letting me in, so it was necessary to cover all the bases. I was, after all, going to have to pass for twenty-one.

When we got back to Hazel’s car—she’d driven a Ferrari this time, red of course—there was a guy leaned against a yellow Lamborghini parked next to us looking like a supermodel waiting for someone to take his picture.

“What the hell? When did you get back?” Hazel shrieked, and then threw her arms around him.

“Last night.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted to surprise you. It’s more fun for me that way,” he said, looking past her at me. “Who’s your friend?”

“Um…oh, this is Ryen Wiley,” she said, like she’d forgotten I was with her. “Ryen this is—” “Carter Abbott,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s nice to meet you, Ryen Wiley,” he oozed, his voice smooth, like liquid velvet. His deep-blue eyes briefly swept over my face, before returning to Hazel’s gaze. 

“Come with me,” he said to her.

Hazel looked at me. “You can drive stick, can’t you?”

“Yeah, but I hope you don’t want me to drive your—” “Good, meet us back at my house,” she instructed and tossed me her key. Carter winked at me. “Thanks, Ryen,” he said, his voice all velvety again. He smiled and I thought the whiteness of his teeth could have permanently blinded me if I stared at them too long.

My first car was a stick shift, a Honda Del Sol. It was made the year I was born and my dad had taught me how to drive it. I thought I was badass because it had t-tops. I laughed out loud thinking about that, because now I was driving a Ferrari convertible, which really was badass. It made me feel like I was better than everyone else on the road, even though the streets in our neighborhood were full of nice cars.

I took my time getting back to Hazel’s house, since I had no idea what she and Carter were
up to. I parked the Ferrari in her driveway and sat on the front porch. I figured I’d stall as long as I could. I didn’t see Carter’s Lamborghini, but I still didn’t want to chance interrupting whatever they were doing.

A few minutes later, Hazel pulled the front door open, startling me.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“I figured you and Carter were…you know...”

She laughed hard, doubling over. “No stupid. Carter’s my brother.” I did feel stupid; assuming something was going on between them, but neither of them told me they were related.

“I guess I forgot to mention that,” Hazel laughed. “I was just so happy to see him. He’s been working in Europe for the past six months.”

“Sorry, I just thought…”

“Don’t sweat it,” she laughed again. “He’s going to meet up with us later, but don’t say anything.” She pointed at me. “He wants to surprise everyone.”

“Okay.” I paused for a moment, unsure I should ask, but decided to anyway.

“Why is his last
name Abbott?”

“My mom legally changed my name after old man Abbott died. Carter’s my half-brother. My mom didn’t find out about Carter until our father’s will was read. He’d had an affair with Carter’s mom, Lola a couple years before he’d knocked up and married my mother. My mom was seriously pissed—went
apeshit over the amount of money Lola and Carter got. Security dragged her out because she’d turned over chairs and was screaming all sorts of crazy shit.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Hart was her first husband’s name. And from what I’ve heard, he’s an ever bigger asshole than my old man was.”

“She was married before?” Maybe Hazel did know a thing or two about what happens to a woman during a divorce after all.

“Yeah, she got pregnant in high school. The guy married her, she miscarried, and then he divorced her.”

“Why’d she use his name for you then?”

“Because her maiden name is hideous. Now come on. We need to get ready.” She yanked at me, pulling me inside the house.

“How did you wind up
Arleigh and your brother Carter?” I asked, climbing the stairs to her room. “Okay, first.” She pointed at me. “Don’t ever say that out loud again. I could kill Kasey,” she mumbled. “Old man Abbot’s name was Carter, that’s how. I think he was just mad that I was a girl and decided to stick it to me by naming me after his grandparents, Arlie and Hazelette Abbott. At least he changed the spelling—old bastard,” she grumbled. “Oh, and speaking of Kasey,” she sang. “I talked to him before you got here.”

Instantly, butterflies filled my stomach, just hearing his name. I wondered if Kasey had mentioned me or if he was going out with us—if I was going to get to see him again.

“He likes you,” Hazel smiled widely. So did I. “He’s picking us up at eight. We’re going to meet T, Luke, and Chase, and grab some food before we go to Lurid. But first, we’ve got to do something with your hair.” It was severely windblown from the drive over.

Hazel
spritzed me with hair spray and rolled the ends of my hair up in hot curlers. While my hair set, she put makeup on my face, applying it heavier than I normally wore it. She said I needed to look older in person than on my ID photo.

“It’s amazing what a little makeup can do,” I said, marveling at Hazel’s handiwork, impressed with how grown up I looked.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of practice. I’ve been sneaking into bars since I was sixteen. Dust yourself with this,” Hazel said, handing me a round container with the word
bronzer
on the cover and a fluffy brush. “Arms, legs, chest,” she instructed, spinning a round brush through her bangs, gently sweeping them away from her face. 

Staring at her next to me in the mirror, I watched Hazel get ready as I scattered the coppery, glittery mix around my body. Hazel circled her eyes with black liner, waved light pink shadow onto her eyelids, lit a cigarette, and held it between her lips as she applied a thick coat of mascara. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she didn’t have a problem in the world. That everything naturally worked out for her. She seemed so together on the outside. Any stranger would definitely be jealous of Hazel. I still didn’t think I’d ever want to trade places with her though. I didn’t know to what extent, but I had a feeling that Hazel was more wounded than she let on.

“You want a hit?” she asked, holding the cigarette out for me—probably because I’d been gawking at her.

“No thanks.” I shook my head slightly.

Hazel turned on the faucet and held the lit end beneath the water before tossing the cigarette butt in the trash can across from us. Then she steadily applied a frosty red lipstick.

“We should get dressed, Kasey will be here soon.”

“I like him, too,” I said, even though she’d told me Kasey liked me almost an hour ago. Hazel smiled. “Of course you do.”

“Am I being too obvious?”

She laughed. “No, but c’mon. He’s beautifully put together—quite the package. He’s a great guy, a one girl at a time kind of guy. That quality is hard to come by—especially in a guy as hot as Kasey.”

I frowned.

Hazel laughed with her mouth wide open, the sound echoing. “Don’t worry. Kasey and I have never been anything other than friends. Although I’ll admit freshman year, the year he turned hot, I would have fist fought a monkey to get his attention.” I laughed at that mental picture. “It’s why I made fun of his name so much. That was really the only time he looked at me back then, but it’s because I made fun of his name that he started going by Kasey instead of Kason. At least I know I affected him in some way—even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted,” she winked. “Good thing too, because as they say everything happens—or doesn’t happen in this case—for a reason. Kasey and I never would have worked. Oil and vinegar, but I am glad he’s finally showing some interest in another girl. He really hasn’t since—” Hazel abruptly ended, an almost frightened look overtaking her face.