Tilley touched Kate’s hand. “Kate, darling. It’s community theater. I’m not sure how pressing our protocol really is.”
“Well, I mean, I guess it would be all right. But why?”
Tilley smiled self-assuredly as she lied through her teeth. “?‘Hello, Dolly!’ is obviously the most important song and dance in the musical. I want to practice it at home in the dress to make sure I get the steps just right. How embarrassing would it be to trip onstage?”
Kate nodded. “Very.”
The young woman seemed convinced. She handed Tilley a garment bag. “Just don’t let Tony see. He would kill me for letting you take the most important costume in the show out of the theater.”
“You’re a doll,” Tilley whispered. “This will be our little secret.” She added, quite seriously, “And the show will be all the better for it.”
She wasn’t sure if that part was true or not. What she had in mind had nothing to do with the show whatsoever. But if a butterfly could flap its wings across the world and make it rain in another part, anything was possible, really. Today, Tilley was that butterfly. Beautiful, elegant, quietly powerful. And, she hoped, distracting enough that her little plan just might work.
MASONBrothers in Arms
This is why I don’t get serious with women, I thought as I stood on the baseball field in what would be the last quiet moments before the onslaught. If I’d never gotten involved with Daisy, then… Well, okay. So maybe Daisy wasn’t totally to blame for this situation. I was the one who found the baby. I was the one who told Drew he was the father without consulting her. But, again, I’d defend that. I wasn’t going to have poor shell-shocked Sarah taken to the police station when I could fix that situation. And, no, I hadn’t told the truth one hundred percent. But I had told like eighty-four percent of the truth. Was I turning into my mother and Tilley and Elizabeth? Manipulating everything?
I knew I had done the right thing. Or maybe the wrong thing for the right reason? Even still, thatDo not call me ever againfrom Daisy was painful. How could she have said that to me, even in a moment of anger? Amelia had tried to justify her behavior and, yeah, sure, I got it. Kind of. I had no idea what it was like to be abandoned as a child. All I had ever known was family who mercilessly, relentlessly rallied around me even in the bad times. I had embarrassed them. I had made bad decisions. And they just kept on coming back for more.
And, yes—as Amelia had filled me in on—her finding out I was leaving on TV was not ideal. But, again, not my fault. I had tried to tell her. On multiple occasions. I didn’t know what to do. But I felt like, after practice, after I began to clean up this monstrous mess that our local news anchor had made, I would go over there.
Daisy had acted badly, but so had I. We both had our reasons. And I was beginning to realize that grown-up relationships with baggage were tricky.
As I looked up to the sky, trying to think about how I was going to apologize to the sea of boys who looked up to me, who trusted me, not only for leaving but also for not telling them, a woman with a strut I would know anywhere approached.
“This field really isn’t made for high heels,” Carmen called.
I shook my head. “You aren’t going to charm your way out of this one, Carmen.” I crossed my arms. “You can sugarcoat it any way you want, but you did a bad thing.”
She took the last step toward me, looking genuinely offended. “Mason! I am telling the news! It’s my job.”
Her job. Uh-huh. The local cable access channel paid her like $1,800 a year. It wasn’t exactly CNN. I was worked up now. “So why’d you do it, Carmen? Because you couldn’t make me fall in love with you in high school? Because I wouldn’t marry you and you had to marry Tim—who, by the way, is a million times the husband I’d ever be. Grow up, Carmen. You messed with people’s lives. And you might have been trying to hurt me, but you hurt all those boys. And that’s not okay.”
Carmen rolled her eyes and touched my shoulder. “I know you think I did this on purpose, but I did not. When you told Tim you were resigning, I figured it was common knowledge. Larry had already heard it, and you two don’t exactly run in the same circles. Iwas trying to do something nice for you, but I should have asked you first.”
I felt bad. I’d been needlessly mean. “Sorry. I don’t think this is really about you.”
“Oh no?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “You aren’t really this pissed about my announcing your news to my eight viewers?” She could look so innocent under all those eyelashes. I had known her my whole life. We’d gotten fake IDs together, and, when Sunny (definitely not his real name) down at the Murder Mart—our not-so-affectionate nickname for the rundown convenience store at the edge of town—had gone through the stage where he’d sell to clearly underage girls but not boys, who had always bought beer for me? Carmen.
I scrunched my nose. “I’m assuming Tim told you about the baby?”
She nodded. “Trouble in paradise now?”
I shrugged. “Kind of. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for relationships.”
She studied me. “I don’t know, Mase. You’ve got potential.” She paused. “Look, here’s the thing you’ve never really understood about women. We have wild hormones and sometimes we massively overreact. And usually all we need is a hug and to be told that we’re right and you’re sorry.”
“But what if it isn’t my fault?”
“Oh, honey, that has nothing to do with anything. If the mail is late being delivered, and she’s upset, she’s right, and you’re sorry.”
I wanted to keep being mad at her, but she made it so darn hard. “I’m sorry. She’s right.”
Carmen clapped. “See! We’ll make a husband out of you yet.”
“Poor Tim.”
“Oh,” Carmen said suggestively, “I make it up to Tim in ways you never got to experience.” She winked at me, and we both laughed.
