a bit more, ended the call and fell back on the bed next to me, grinning up at the ceiling. And not just any old grin, this was more in the category of gleeful grinning, the kind that eventually causes cheek aches.
“At least your phone is working,” I said, looking over at her, watching for any tells that she might know about Leo coming up to my apartment last night. I couldn’t see any. If she did know, it was only a matter of time before she’d let me have it, with both barrels.
“I bet you’re happy about that,” I offered, wanting her to volunteer who was on the other end of that call.
She nodded then turned toward me, scrunching her pillow under her head, tugging on the covers, grinning. Apparently, Lisa was in a good mood.
“What? Tell me,” I begged. “Did your publisher call with a million dollar deal? Are you going to be on Oprah? Are they making a movie out of one of your books? Tell me.”
She giggled again. I scrunched my pillow under my head and faced her, joining in on her contagious laughter.
It had been a long time since Lisa and I shared a bed. When we were little we’d have sleepovers all summer long. We’d never get any sleep, way too much to talk and laugh about in those days. We had endless conversations, and when we weren’t talking about someone or something, Lisa would make up stories, long lavish stories about kids living on other planets or kids with special powers. I couldn’t count how many times I fell asleep listening to her lulling voice telling me about Zoey the goddess warrior, or Princess Omni, the last female demon slayer on Ozark, a planet on the other side of the universe.
“It was Nick,” she said. “But you’re not going to like what he said.”
My chest instantly tightened as reality came rushing in.
“Oh God! What did he say? No. Don’t tell me. I can’t take any bad news. I mean, what if Dickey pops up somewhere and Nick still has that gun. I bet you anything he already ran a ballistic check on it. This could get really ugly.”
I sat up, turned slightly and looked at her. Her expression hadn’t changed. Something was up, and it couldn’t be bad. “Why are you still smiling? This has to be good. Right? Okay. You can tell me. We don’t have any secrets.”
Lie. No way could I tell her about Leo and me. Her expression changed. She stopped giggling, but the smile still clung to her lips. “Okay. So it’s not good news. Those were nervous giggles, right? Like when we were caught smoking in the locker-room and Sister Marian Joseph made us stay after school and wait for our mothers to come and fetch us so she could personally tell them of our evil deeds. You kept laughing that day, too. Did Nick find Dickey? He ran ballistics and the bullet matches the gun and he’s on his way over to pick up my mom or me or all three of us. I knew this was going to happen. I should have never let him take that weapon. We’re in for it now. We could spend the rest of our lives in jail. You won’t care. You’ll just write more books: Surviving Prison or Surviving Bad Girls. Mom will adjust, she adjusts to anything. But me? I’ll die in jail, all that tasteless food, and confinement, not to mention those bad-ass biker chicks. I never could get along with biker women. You may as well just shoot me right now, because I’ll die if I go to jail.”
I flopped down on the bed, exhausted by my own outburst.
“Are you done ranting?” she asked.
I nodded and braced for the worst.
She stared at me for a moment longer, the smile never leaving her face.
“This isn’t funny. Jail time is serious business. Just ask my family.”
“You’re overreacting. Take a deep breath. Relax. Close your eyes for a minute. Wait to hear what I have to say before you decide we’re jail bait.”
I did as I was told, but there was still a little part of my mind that saw us in bright orange jumpsuits lifting weights out in a cement courtyard alongside buffed, mean-looking women with tattoos that said Eat Me!
When I opened my eyes, she was still smiling.
I thought I’d go with it and take a different approach. “You’re smiling so I’m going to assume it’s good news.