Chapter 3: Something to Tell

The night was especially humid, but the air was so still that it felt heavy on my face after having left the cool interior of the bar and lounge. I had worked for three hours, singing a couple of tunes for the audience as they ate and drank and chatted.

They all seemed so at ease.

My legs felt nearly languid from having stood so long, but I was good. I was saturated from the singing, from the music, and the audience had been especially welcoming tonight. Even though it was only Thursday.

The moment I was in the car my phone started to ring. It was Racheal, and she called to tell me the girls wanted to hang out over dinner and drinks

tomorrow.

It made me smile, and I drove through the beach strip, careful with pedestrians and trying, even as a native, not to look pointedly at the Art Deco lights.

Something distracted me as I was driving, and I missed my ramp with a curse. I knew I would just have to keep driving until the next light and make a u-turn, and that would have been fine, but I tended to avoid this route.

My memory was good enough to tell me that this was the building, even though I had not driven by it

for as long as I could help it.

It was towering above me at my right, sleek and towering and beautiful, comprised completely of glass and steel and white marble. It had the beach to its other side, and then me.

Maverick Enterprise.

It even looked like he did.

With an upwards turn on the volume I made a left onto my ramp and went home, making it a point to shove his ghost as far back into my mind as I was able.

* **

"Emily," Kate stared at my nails. "What color is that?"

"Red."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant-"

Jane laughed behind Kate, rolling her eyes at me.

"It's Revelred. I bought it for her, seeming as she's always wearing the same red polish," she said.

"It's polish, who cares?" Asked Racheal, looking at the waiter behind us.

"Eyes on us, Racheal," I interjected, and the girls laughed as we caught our friend perusing.

"What? I'm hungry. He's taking a while."

"Yeah, sure. That's why."

The four of us laughed, and when the waiter did come we became awkwardly quiet.

"Um, uh. I'll have the fettuccini Alfredo, please.

And a side of Ceasar."

For some reason we all had smiles on our faces that we were battling with. Racheal’s face was red and the waiter just smiled, looking at her politely. She looked pointedly at the table as we ordered, and she only gazed up when he was gone and out of ear sight.

"You guys!"

That was the gateway to our laughter.

"I'm not kidding! I was not checking him out.

Really. And so what if I had been been? As a matter of fact I have something to tell you guys."

"What is that?" I asked.

Jane just raised her brow playfully and Kate remained quiet, looking at Racheal.

"Fred, he, um, he went to my house last night."

Joan’s face became stone, giving nothing away as she kept silent. Kate hadn't changed. I, on the other hand, felt my blood boil.

"And what happened?" I asked, composed.

"Well, he said he was sorry for what he did. That he wanted, needed me back. And he looked like a mess. I didn't know what to do.”

"So what did you do?"

She looked at me, observing my face, but I didn't change my expression. "I let him inside. It was hot out, and he looked like he was sorry.”

I nodded slowly. "But he's said he's sorry a hundred times before, and he's looked sorry. What makes you think he is now?"

"Just him. I love him. You guys know that. I haven't called that guy from a few days ago because I just... Haven't wanted to.”

Joan stepped in. "Are you getting back with him?"

"I don't know."

I drank from my water and looked into her eyes, careful. "Racheal, He actually hit you last time."

"I know, and it was wrong. But he was drunk, Emily, and mad. He was so sad and so sorry. He promised he would never do it again. Said he had lost complete control of himself."

"Who's to say he won't do it again?" Joan asked quietly.

Kate’s voice was nearly inaudible. "You need to be careful. This is serious."

"I know. I know. I just... Love him. I trust him. It won't happen again.”

"You don't need our permission," I began. "But you have to be careful, Racheal. This isn't romance. It isn't tragic. This is just wrong, and dangerous."

We were all silent, but Racheal changed the topic within a minute. Yet it was all I could think about as I waited for the food and as my friends spoke.

It made me furious that she was with him after all the pain he had caused her. She was my friend. My pretty, loyal, kind best friend, and she was so bright and warm. She could have any good man that she put her sights to, but this one imbecile managed to sweep her off her feet.

It was her life, and we all were aware of that. Love and romance were her guidance and her beacon, her main motivations. For Racheal, there was no balance and no such thing as an in between; she either gave nothing or gave it all.

But that wasn't me.

I would never understand her or be able to see it her way. To me Fred was bad, and it didn't matter that she still idolized and adored him. But I couldn't fight her and push her away, condemning her for her decisions when they were not my business to begin with. I knew that if I fought her selfishly, and protectively, I would just push her away to the point where she wouldn't be able to come to me for help if she needed it. And that had the potential to be worse.

All I could do for now was try and lend a helping hand if she needed one, or a shoulder to cry on if it came to that. Anything worse and I would call a hitman.

When we finished our dinners we left the restaurant and drove to a bar further south.