Urban Climber 2 (12 page)

My breathing is all over the place. Short, sharp gulps are all I can manage. “I know that Dad lost his job … and you’ve been looking for another job. But you can’t find one and you almost lost the …” My voice cracks as I desperately suck in a big breath before my lungs collapse in on themselves, and I crumble to the floor.

“Almost lost the what?”

“House,” I wail. “The place you’ve loved so dearly for all these years.”

“Where is this all coming from, darling? Shush, it’s okay, poppet.”

“Hugo,” I sniff, looking up at her. “Hugo told me everything, and I don’t know why you couldn’t, but don’t worry, it’s all sorted now.”

“What’s sorted?”

“You’re not going to lose the house because he paid the bank. Y–you don’t h–have to worry about a–anything,” I stammer, blowing my nose.

“Laura darling, listen to me. Your father is still working. He went back months ago. They never stopped paying him. I’m not looking for a second job—the one I’ve got at the café keeps me very busy, not to mention chasing after all those suits on my days off.”

“B-but the house?” I stammer. “What about the house?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the house. We were never going to lose it. In fact, we’re ahead on our payments by over a year.”

“You are?”

“Yes, darling. I would never lie to you; you know that. Who told you this?”

“I told you,” I sob, “
Hugo
. He was the one who told me you were going to lose everything.”

Mom’s lips pull into a straight line, and she gives me a look that only means one thing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I cry. “It’s been such a long day, I can’t take it.”

Her voice tightens. “Well, I’m sorry, dear, but I just can’t hide my feelings about this. I don’t want to upset you any more than you already are, but it appears that Mr. Smit has made up a giant concoction of lies because none of that is true.”

“It’s not?” I sob.

“No. Not one stinking word.”

“Oh no.” I cover my face. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I love you both very much, and I know all the invitations have already been sent out, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t love Hugo anymore.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you don’t love him?”

“I don’t,” I cry. “I don’t even
like
him.”

“Well, if you feel that way, why on earth are you marrying him?”

“Because I love you and Dad,” I sob into my hands. “And I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Please tell me this isn’t because of my constant nagging for grandbabies.”

I shake my head.

“Honey, please listen to me. Don’t ever marry someone you don’t like just to please someone else. I’m sorry I keep going on about grandchildren; that was selfish of me.”

“It’s not because of that.”

“Then what?”

“I thought you were going to lose everything—and Hugo said if I married him, he would take care of everything—you know, pay the bank off.”

Mom is looking at me like the devil just stuck her with his pitchfork. “He did what?” she screams. “Wait until your father hears this. He’ll want to strangle that boy! I can’t believe he would make up such a rotten story. What else has he lied about?”

“The porn,” I sob, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“I never liked him, Laura. You can never trust a man in a suit.”

“It’s not the suit, it’s the person,” I cry. “Material is just material. It doesn’t change who the person is inside.”

“What did he really do?”

“He cheated on me,” I sob uncontrollably, “and I walked in on them, and it wasn’t with just one girl either. There were many girls—heaps. He even slept with the airhostess. You know Penelope?”

“That little—”

“What do I do, Mom? The wedding is …”

“This spring?” She sneers, helping me to my feet. “Yes, I know, honey. Hugo couldn’t stop going on about it. He was like a stuck record the way he kept whirring on.”

“It’s too late.” I shake my head. “It’s all too late.”

“Laura, look at me and listen carefully. Okay?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I need all the advice I can get.”

“In life, there are two sorts of people—mice and rats.”

“Huh?”

“Just listen.”

“Okay.” I wipe my nose. “So what are we, then?”

“We’re the mice, honey, and that Hugo Smit is one of the biggest rats I’ve ever come across.”

“But he can give me a future.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“You know why.”

“Because of his family’s money?”

I nod, watching as she folds her arms over her chest.

“Can money buy you happiness? Answer me truthfully, now.”

“No.”

“Are you happy that your ring is bigger than every girl’s in town?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I hate it!”

“You know the answer, then. Walk away, Laura. Pick up your rumpty, old suitcase that you hate so very much and walk away.”

“But everyone is flying in … there’s going to be over four hundred people attending.”

“Who cares about that? At least one hundred of those people want you to be happy—not just for one day but for the rest of your life. This is
your
life we’re talking about, Laura, and I believe you only get one shot at happiness. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“It’s got nothing to do with money or status or anything superficial. It’s got to do with two people who have a connection and know that no matter what obstacles they face, they can make it work simply because they love each other.”

“So what now?” I blow my nose. “Where will I go? What will I do?”

“Well, that’s up to you, my darling. What do you want to do?”

The moment she asks, I know. I know so clearly it’s almost like a message from above. I knew the moment I left New York that I’d done the wrong thing. And yet, I ignored my gut. I ignored my heart.

“Well?”

I shake my head. “You’re not going to like it, Mom.”

Mom winks at me. “Just try me.”

“I wanna go back to New York.”

“Were you happy there?”

“Not at first, but then I met someone, and I felt things for him that I’ve never felt for anyone.”

“Then what are you doing here, poppet?” Mom smiles. “Quick! Go! Call the airport and see if you can get a flight.”

“But it’s too late.”

“Where has all your wonderful optimism gone? It’s never too late. We’ll drive you there.”

“But what about the wedding? What about Hugo?”

“Stuff the rat!” She grins widely. “Your father and I will deal with everything. And if Mr. Smit tries to cause a fuss, he better pray that we don’t string him up by his priceless balls!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t we just?” she chortles. “You’d be surprised.”

Three hours later …

“Mel?” I whisper.

“This is she.”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, hey girl! How was the flight?”

“Worst flight of my life,” I exhale. “It was sweaty and demeaning. I bought mouth wash the moment I landed.”

“Gawd, what the hell happened up there?”

I sigh. “Me, being stupid.”

“But why would you need mouth wash? What did he make you do?”

“Next question.”

She giggles. “So why are you calling me? This is, like, the first time we’ve talked properly in forever.”

“Well … I wanted to ask for your forgiveness.”

“Huh?”

“Just over the whole Hugo thing, and Ash, and you know, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry. It’s fine. Everything is forgotten.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, Laura. You’re my girl! Of course I forgive you. Everything is water under the bridge. I never should have asked for Ash’s number—that was really wrong. I was being an idiot.”

She so was, but I lie. “No, you weren’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I giggle. “Okay, you were. Just a little.”

“Exactly,” she laughs. “You were with Ash. You were bonkers for Ash, and I knew that. Just because you weren’t dating him didn’t mean I should—sorry.”

“So you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

“Does this mean I get to be your matron of honor after all?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“So you’re still holding a grudge? I thought you just said we were okay.”

“Things have changed.”

Her voice tightens. “Meaning?”

“I’m not marrying him, Mel! The guy is a nut job. A really, really crunchy one.”

Mel squeals so loudly that for half a second I think she’s turned into some sort of wild animal.

“Mel,” I laugh, “are you okay?”

“Are you serious?
Really
?”

“Yup. More than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“OMG! Promise?”

“I swear, I’m done and dusted with him. He spun me a whole web of lies, and I believed him.”

“Oh my god! This is the best news, like,
ever
. I so never liked him! He was sooo creepy.”

“There was a time that you didn’t mind him. Remember?”

“Blame that on his wrapper.” She giggles. “He’s good looking, sure … hunky, yeah, but then after you get past all that, you realize he’s a big, giant, super creep.”

“I know,” I giggle. “He really should wear a cape.”

“So now what?”

“New York.”

“No!” she gasps.

“You better believe it, babe!” I cackle. “I just can’t keep away from the big smoke.”

“When?”

“As soon as I get off the phone with you.”

“What did Hugo say?”

“I haven’t told him. I’m just leaving. I’ll deal with it all later.”

“Laura,” she whispers, “don’t you think you should at least talk to him about it? He’s not gonna like it, you know. Look what happened last time.”

I sigh. “I know, but I can’t think about that right now. And anyway, if he tries anything this time, I’ll be calling the police. I’m not afraid of him.”

“So now what?”

“Now I’ve just got to book some accommodations, and I’ll be all sorted.”

“Accommodations? Don’t be silly.”

“Well, I can’t stay with you again. It was like a frickin’ igloo for the last few months.”

She laughs loudly. “My shoulder wasn’t that cold, was it?”

“Sorry, but it was,” I giggle. “Despite global warming, I swear, nothing was melting at your place.”

She laughs again. “You’re so rude.”

“I’m rude?” I laugh. “What about you and your three wise men?”

“They were the ones doing the melting!” She snorts with laughter.

“Urgh! Mel! Waaay too much information,” I sigh. “But I’m still glad I called. Wow, it really feels like old times. Man, I’ve missed you.”

“Same,” she exhales. “Sooo …”

“Sooo what?” I laugh.

“Oh come on, Laura, you
have
to stay with me. You’re family. I miss you!”

“Well,” I gaze out my bedroom window. “Not really.”

“What’s blood got to do with it? You’re family to me, and you always will be. I insist. Come and live with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to say it again. Now tell me your flight number, and I’ll come and pick you up.”

I pause a second, wondering if I’ve really lost the plot.

“You still there, babe?”

“Yup.”

“So, what’s the number?”

“Um…”

“What’s ‘um’ mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” I mumble. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her laughter gurgles down the phone, and I know she’s on to me. “Are you hoping someone else will, Miss Naughty Pants?”

I exhale, biting down on my lip. “Kinda. Is that insane?”

“No.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive me, though?”

“I just about flashed a boob trying to get his attention,” she laughs. “Of
course
he’ll forgive you. It’s very clear how loved up he is over you.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Have you spoken to him?”

“Not yet. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just speak from your heart. That’s all you can do. And if he doesn’t listen—well, fuck him!”

“Mel!” I squeal. “Stop it!”

She giggles. “What? I’m sure that would get his attention. Oh, and if you do need a lift, just holler.”

“I will,” I giggle. “Thanks, babe.”

Holy fudge nut. I’m going back to New York! Only this morning did I leave the smoggy, clogged-up place via private jet, and now I’m volunteering to go back there. Right before Christmas. With no guarantee that he’ll even see
or
speak to me again. Have I totally lost my mind? Has my skull turned into a donut and my tiny jelly brain simultaneously slipped right through the middle?

You know what? Stuff it! Who cares anymore? I don’t have time to think anyway. Thinking, thinking, and
thinking
some more has gotten me to where I am right now, and what good has it done me? From now on, I’m not thinking—I’m just throwing my heart out there, and whatever happens… happens.

“Laura? Are you ready?”

“Coming, Mom,” I laugh, grabbing a pile of things off the dresser and running down the stairs. “I’m coming.”

Me:
I don’t know what to tell you, other than I’ve made a huge mistake
.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting this guy,” I giggle, sliding into the back seat of my parents’ ancient wagon and heaving the door shut behind me.

Dad exhales. “Is he the reason we’re losing you to that place?”

I can’t help but smile. “Even without him, I love New York, Dad. I love the buzz of the place—the people, the chaos, the craziness, the diversity. Anything and everything is acceptable there because everything’s happening too fast to stop it. You’ve either got to surrender to the madness or get swept away with it, kicking and screaming.”

“And what did you do?”

I smile, sticking my head through the gap in between the front seats. “A bit of both, but in the end, I found it was better to just surrender to the moment and enjoy it all for what it is.”

“And what’s that?”

“Awesomeness.” I smile, turning my attention back to the screen of my phone.

“Awesomeness?” They laugh.

“Yes,” I smirk. “Awesomeness. Now, shhh. I’m trying to hook up my destiny.”

Me:
Ash? Are you there?

“Well?” Dad grins, watching me in the rear view mirror. “Is he texting you back? What is he saying?”

“No,” I mumble, “not yet; give him a moment.”

“Why should I give him a moment? Is he certifiable? Why wouldn’t he want to be with you?”

“I hurt him, Dad. I told him to stay away from me.”

“But I thought you said he was the bees’ knees.”

“Bees’ knees?” I giggle. “Hardly. When did I say that? Is that what you told him I said, Mom?”

“No,” she titters, turning back to look at me. “The word I used was ‘hot’.”

“Oh. My mistake! Silly old me.” Dad laughs. “Well, if he’s so ‘hot’ then, why didn’t you get together with him sooner?”

“Because I was trying to do the right thing, and Hugo made a very strong argument.”

“Don’t mention that name in this car. I want to—”

I giggle. “I know, Dad, but you can’t.”

“I’m quite sure his body would fit in the trunk of his overpriced car, though.”

“Dad!” I squeal. “Don’t go there.”

“Why not?” He laughs. “We could chop off an arm or a foot if we needed to make extra room.”

“Don’t forget his ego!” Mom hollers. “How are we supposed to fit that in?”

I giggle, glancing back to my phone. Some questions can never be answered, especially ones to do with Hugo’s ego.

Me:
I’m going to send you a heap of texts now, and I’m sorry, but a tweet just won’t do it. I stuffed up. I really, really did.

“Well? Has he texted back yet?”

“No, okay? Please stop asking.”

Me:
I know we only spent a short amount of time together, but in the time I’ve been avoiding you, all I’ve done is think about you. Day after day after DAY.

“Honey, did you get those extra socks that I left on top of your dresser?”

Socks? Oh yeah, the socks. “Yup I got them.”

“Why are you smiling to yourself like that?”

I giggle. “I don’t know. It’s just funny—here I am about to throw my heart on the line and fly back to New York seconds before Christmas, and you’re worried about socks!”