anywhere, sweetheart! And I’ll be waiting when you realize you belong with me!” he threatens.
As I round the staircase and come to the landing on the third floor, Tim’s words echo in the empty hallway. I dig the keys from my purse but stop short of putting them in the lock. I place my forehead against the apartment’s worn door and try to subdue the alarm bells ringing in my head. I’m doing the right thing. For once in my life, I’m sure of it. Tim represents my past. He’s the physical embodiment of every bad decision and psychic warning bell I’ve ever come up against. Sam is my future. Sam who knows what it’s like to be left broken hearted by someone you thought you could trust. Sam, who’s asked me to trust him.
I turn the lock and step into the apartment. I hear Luanne singing in the bathroom, her thick country twang hollering about taking a bat to a cheating ex-lover’s pickup truck. Amen, sister.
I kick the four-inch stilettos off my sore feet and head into the kitchen. The contents of the refrigerator are sparse but I spot what I’m looking for and pull the items from the top shelf. I pour in the iced tea first, filling half my glass before adding a finger or two of vodka. I mix the drink with one of the many chopsticks always present in Luanne’s kitchen, a benefit of living above a Chinese restaurant, I guess.
I drop to the sofa and stretch my feet out on the coffee table in front of me. Droplets of condensation have already formed on the outside of the glass, and it’s slick in my hand. The cool iced tea is no match for the intense Texas heat. Even with the constant blowing of the window air-conditioner, the apartment is humid. Luanne ambles out of the bathroom in a robe, a towel wrapped around her head. She homes in on my cocktail-hour beverage and halts her progress toward the kitchen.
“You know, I think I may’ve picked up some of that supernatural sense of yours,” she says, walking around the coffee table and taking a seat next to me on the sofa. “I was at the market today and the cart literally pulled me into the liquor aisle. Somewhere deep down in my gut, I knew it was gonna be a tea-vodka kind of day.”
“Yeah, well, it started out pretty good,” I say, closing my eyes, picturing Sam emerging wet from the shower. What kind of fool leaves that behind?
“You ask him about the ring yet?”
“Not yet. I don’t really know how to bring it up without admitting I was snooping.”
“It’s easy. Next time you find yourself over at his place indulging in some afternoon delight, accidentally knock over the vase the ring’s in. It’ll fall out and, voila, he’s got to come clean.”
I take another sip, inhaling the light scent of the vodka barely discernible over the current of strong black tea. Accidentally finding the ring would get him to confess about his ex-fiancé, but I don’t want this relationship to be built on lies. I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.
“I can’t do that, Lu. I just need to ask him and get it over with.”
“Like pullin’ off a band-aid?”
“Yes, exactly. I know he’ll tell me.”
“So, is that what this is all about?” she asks, gesturing to my glass.
“I wish. Tim was here, waiting for me in the parking lot when I got home,” I say, gulping down another drink.
“Lord, give us strength,” she says, her eyes rolling to the ceiling. “Here, gimme some of that.”
I pass the glass of tea-vodka to Luanne and she takes a liberal sip before handing it back to me. “What’s he after now?”
“I can’t ever tell with him. He says he wants me back, but I don’t know. He says a lot of things.”
“What’d you say?”
I pass the glass back to Luanne who finishes it off. “I said I wasn’t interested. I said I was moving on.”
“I bet he loved that.”
“Not so much.” I lean my head against the back of the sofa and close my eyes, trying to block out thoughts of Tim, of Sam…everything. The vodka helps.
The sofa shifts as Luanne gets up, moving away from me. “Sugar, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be on the lookout for that one. He’s not used to not getting what he wants, and it sounds like he still wants you.”