16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixtee n
Women need time to bond and should look for any opportunity to do so. It will only benefit the child to have a mother with a firm support system.
A Young Woman’s Guide to Raising Obedient Children
Dr. Francine Pascal Reid, (1943)
W e are told later that women climbing onstage were a usual occurrence at one of the Power of the Tower shows. Bron was the tallest tower, and therefore the focus of the women’s efforts.
No one had ever tried to stop them. It was like a rite of passage to get on stage, and only a few have ever succeeded. Security only concerns themselves if someone gets up, and when that happens, Bron gives them a hug and a kiss and sends them on their way. No one took kindly to Morgan’s endeavors to protect Bron from the crowd of lovesick women. And many saw her as a threat to their quest. A bit of pushing and pulling soon collapses into a seething, sprawling girl fight that took over the first five rows of the audience.
Security can’t contain the fight as it grows and the police are called.
What is ironic is that Morgan gets away scot-free, while Brit and I, as well as a dozen other women, are arrested.
Which is how I find myself in jail for the first time in my life.
“This is all Morgan’s fault!”
It’s the sixth time Brit has announced that. It’s getting more difficult to defend Morgan from behind bars, trapped in a holding cell with at least fifteen women. The smell is horrific–a mixture of sweat, rancid body odor, too much perfume, and alcohol fumes.
I hear the retching and turn away just in time. Can’t forget the smell of vomit.
″I’ve never even been in a police station before,” Brit mutters, grasping the bars like it’s a lifeline.
″First time for everything.”
Keeping positive is becoming as much of a chore as defending Morgan, but if I don’t, I’ll end up in a sodden heap of tears, badmouthing everyone and everything with Brit. At least I’ve sobered up.
The singing from the back corner begins again reminding me that not everyone has.
″I hope the kids are okay.”
″Well, they’re not in jail with us, so I don’t know why they wouldn’t be,” Brit says, picking at her nails.
Instinctively, I cover her hand with mine to stop it. “Stop picking.”
″I’m not.”
″You pick when you’re nervous.”
″I’m not nervous!”
I glance at her, scrutinizing her expression. Even if I hadn’t known her most of my life, I could still tell something was wrong. “Morgan will get us out,” I soothe. “We won’t be in here for long.”
″I’ll never be able to get the smell out of my clothes. I’ll have to burn them.”
″I think that’s a bit drastic.”
Brit turns to me, blue eyes furious. “Do you not understand what’s going on here, Casey? We’re in jail. We’ve been arrested for fighting . At a strip club . How can you not think this is the most horrible night of your life?”
″Plus you hit like a girl,” a woman in the throng behind us says.
Brit whirls around. “That’s because I am a girl! I’m a woman and unlike some of you heathens, I’m not accustomed to using my fists to solve my issues. And why the hell would anyone want to climb up on the stage? Did you think those guys were going to pull you up, forget about the hundreds of dollars in their g-strings and whisk you away? No! Those men would take your money and push you away, just like every other man in the world!”
“Brit,” I murmur, my hand on her arm. It’s not the first outburst of the evening. There’s been a variety of cursing, crying, shouting, and downright hysterics since we’ve been locked up.
It’s been forty-seven minutes since we’ve been incarcerated. Apparently, that’s the limit for Brit.
″Morgan will get us out,” I repeat, trying to sound like I know Morgan’s whereabouts. I don’t. The sight of her blond head as the women leaped on her was the last I saw of her. I left her a message on her cell, but I have no idea if she got it. I hope she’s okay.
″How do you know? She’s probably off screwing that Power Tower and forgot all about us,” Brit sneers.
There’s a rumble behind us. It’s impossible to have a private conversation here. “She better not touch Bron.”
″He’s mine.”
″I gave him fifty bucks, and I’m damn well going home with that boy tonight.”
I cringe and try to forget what I’ve heard. “Morgan won’t forget us.”
″I lost my cousin too,” a blond says from the bench against the wall. “They couldn’t have gotten everyone. It wasn’t even that bad of a fight.”
Brit whirls around but stops herself when she catches sight of the white dress the woman is wearing. “You look like you should be at a wedding.”
″I was. But it got canceled.”
I close my eyes, waiting for the next bout of bad temper, but Brit surprises me by leaning against the bars to face the blond. “So what happened?” Brit demands. “He dump you?”
″ She walked out on him,” the friend says proudly. She lifts a hand for a high five, which the blond reluctantly slaps. “So proud of you.”
The blond sighs. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was walking down the aisle and Thomas turned and smiled at me, and I knew I couldn’t marry him.” She glances at the dark-haired woman leaning against her shoulder. “You never thought I should marry him.”
The brunette presses her lips together in a firm line. “I’m pleading the fifth at least until you talk to him. ”
″So you had no reason for dumping him? Just like that–it’s over?” I wince at the venom in Brit’s voice. “That’s pretty shitty.”
The blond’s face falls. “Brit!” I admonish.
″Flora has her reasons,” the friend announces in an icy voice. “And they’re none of your business.”
Flora waves her hand. “It’s okay, M.K. And it was a pretty shitty thing to do.”
Brit harrumphs and turns away, once more gripping the bars. “I’m sure you have your reasons,” I say. “I apologize for my friend. She’s a bit upset. This is her stagette and it got a bit messed up.”
Brit whirls around. “This is not my stagette! Will you stop telling people that?”
″It’s my stagette too,” says a girl with a ripped Bride-to-be sash around her shoulders.
″Mine too,” echoes another.
″Well, it’s not mine.” Brit’s mutter is so low that only I hear her.
″What are you talking about?” I demand. “This is what we’re here for because you’re getting married! I left my kids to spend the weekend with you because you’re getting married. I used my one phone call to call Morgan. Did you even call Justin and tell him what’s going on?”
Brit refuses to meet my eyes. “It’s not like he can do anything to help.”
″But he might–you’ve hardly mentioned him.” The realization hits me like the shoe clocking me on the side of the head had earlier. “What’s going on?”
″Unlike you, Casey, I keep my thoughts to myself.”
″No, you don’t. You’re getting married in a few weeks. Justin should be all you’re talking about.” I stand, hands on hips, demanding answers.
Brit turns her head away from me.
″What happened? Did you get in a fight?”
Brit snorts, such an odd sound coming from her. “About five weeks ago.”
″What happened?” I repeat. “Did he not like you coming here? What’s his problem?”
″His problem, apparently, is me. We broke up.” Her tone is casual like she’s reciting a menu.
″What?” My tone is anything but. “What are you talking about? When? Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Brit, what’s going on?” Brit shrugs, looking more vulnerable then she has in years. I move closer and touch her arm. “What happened?”
She sighs heavily. “It’s over. He met someone else–someone he liked better. I guess he met her around the same time as he met me, dated both of us, picked me and then changed his mind when the wedding plans were made. He got in touch with her; she still had feelings…” she trails off with another shrug.
″Sounds like the last season of The Bachelor .” My mind swirls with questions and I’m sure I’m gaping like a fish, but I don’t know what to say. Comfort? Get angry on her behalf? Sympathy? Jokey comments?
And deep down, in that low place, I don’t want to acknowledge, I can’t help but think Brit might have deserved it.
″Let me get this straight,” I begin. “You’re not getting married?”
″Not anytime soon,” Brit says bitterly.
″But–”
″You think I deserve it.”
″Of course I don’t,” I lie.
″You think because I’m such a bitch–You even told me I was being a bitch earlier, so why wouldn’t Justin think that? Why wouldn’t he pick someone nicer?”
″I’m not thinking that. I don’t know what I’m thinking. Are you okay?” Brit only shrugs. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I keep my voice quiet, even though I want to scream it at her. Brit is my best friend, so why on earth wouldn’t she tell me?
We came to Las Vegas because she was getting married again.
She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “It’s not the easiest thing to admit to. It’s embarrassing.”
″Seriously?” I reel back, holding tight to my temper. Now is not the time to be upset that she’s dragged me away from my children. “Brit, you’ve seen me with my head stuck in a toilet. I’ve helped you pee when you were wearing your wedding dress. This is nothing to be embarrassed about. I would have hated him for you. I would have stalked the other girl on social media.”
Brit doesn’t say anything for a long moment, staring out the bars and refusing to meet my eyes. I ignore the crying and conversation behind us, praying no one will interrupt.
″It’s been…hard. I’ve watched you and J.B. Before him, you were a mess. I had the better relationships, the hotter guys, but then you got pregnant and got married.”
″It’s not a competition!”
″It is for me,” she confesses. “It always has been. That’s just who I am. Not a great trait, I know.”
″You think?”
″We’re not criticizing my character traits–”
″I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing! You drop this bombshell on me, tell me you’ve been jealous of me, the wedding is off. Forgive me for being a bit confused.”
″I never said I was jealous. But you have everything you’ve always wanted, Casey. As happy as I am for you, I can’t help feeling sad for myself. ”
I pause. Whatever I think of Brit, I’ve only wanted happiness for her. We planned our lives out–She was going to have a grand, sweeping epic life, and I was going to have a more comfortable, but still amazing future. We were both going to find our happily ever afters.
But only one of us did.
″So what are you going to do?” I ask after a long pause, broken by more retching in the corner.
″What can I do? It’s over with Justin. We’re not getting married.”
″But you brought us all the way to Las Vegas for a bachelorette party!” I burst out.
Brit smiles sadly. “I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas with you, Casey. I thought this was as good a time as any. I keep waiting for you to announce you’re pregnant again.”
I keep my mouth shut. Now is not the time for true confessions from me.
″I know you didn’t want to come,” she adds sadly.
″It not that I didn’t want to come, but I have three kids, Brit. It’s really hard for me to get away. J.B. can handle them but they’re my responsibility. You don’t understand.” I bite my tongue as soon as the words leave my mouth. I’ve always tiptoed around the topic of the kids with Brit, just like we’ve always skirted the subject of why she doesn’t want kids.
″No, I clearly don’t.” Brit’s tone is as icy as the prison floor. “But do you ever stop to think that I’m your responsibility too?”
″You’re a grown woman, Brit. How do you figure?”
″You’re my oldest friend. You got me through my parents’ divorce when I was fourteen, my mother’s death when I was twenty. You were the first one I told when I lost my virginity. You stood beside me at all three of my weddings and held my hand through the divorces. Don’t you ever think that I can’t do this without you? ”
″What are you talking about?”
″I’m not strong like you, Casey. I don’t have people around me that care–like you have Cooper and Emma and your sister. Lacey is nothing like Libby. And even your mother, as freaky as she is. I don’t have a mother.”
″Brit…”
″And J.B.,” she continues with a scornful toss of her hair. “Have I ever had a man love me like that? And to think you almost threw it away. The kids. I don’t have anyone giving me unconditional love like you do, Casey. I have to work for it. People love me because I make them, and it’s hard.”
″You don’t make me love you,” I say awkwardly.
″I don’t have anyone else.” She enunciates each word. “I had to fight Morgan for you so I just gave up. But I’m your responsibility too because I don’t have anyone else. And it hurts–” She pauses and I’m stunned to find her blue eyes have filled with tears. “That you wouldn’t want to be here with me. To share this with me.”
″It’s not that I didn’t want to come,” I tell her. “It’s just hard.”
″Sure,” she says in a clipped voice. “I get it that I’m not as important to you anymore.”
″I was afraid to leave them,” I admit in a rush of words. “Not to leave them with J.B., because he couldn’t handle it. I thought they’d like being with him, maybe too much. That they’d love him more than me.”
Brit narrows her eyes. “You’re jealous of your husband? The father of your children? That’s even more screwed up than I am.”
″Maybe,” I laugh. “They’re mine. I wanted them more than anyone else, and I need to keep them.”
″You’ re not going to lose your kids because you go away for a couple of nights.” Brit laughs but trails off when she catches sight of my expression. “You’ll never lose them.”
″What if I get shot, like that concert here last year?” I ask, voicing one of my fears.
″I won’t let you get shot,” Brit says stoutly. “I’m your responsibility, but you’re mine too. I won’t let anything happen to you.”′
I glance around. “You let me get arrested.”
″That was Morgan’s fault,” Brit says briskly. “I would never have created such a ruckus over a man.”
″It was a fun ruckus,” Flora admits. I’m so intent on my conversation with Brit that I forgot that she and M.K. are still close behind us and hearing every word. “Hitting that woman felt so good, almost like I’ve been cleansed.” Flora’s voice drops, and she glances around with hunched shoulders. “She’s not in here, is she?”
″I don’t think so,” M.K. assures her.
It’s then that the officer comes to the bars. “Okay, so no one really wants to press charges, so we’re going to have to let you go. Anyone still drunk? Need to sober up?”
Morgan and a hovering Bron are there to greet us with tearful hugs as Brit and I file into the waiting room with the other women.
″I’m so sorry!” she wails, throwing her arms around me.
″Maybe you should apologize to me,” Brit huffs. “I’m the one who had her shoes ruined.”
″I’m apologizing to you both.”
″There’s no reason to,” I laugh, squeezing Morgan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault women get very aggressive when they watch guys dance.” I glance up at Bron as I pull away. “Maybe it’s yours? ”
I’m glad he responds with a grin that tells me he knows I’m joking. There’s no way I’m letting Morgan go home with a man without a sense of humour.
″I called J.B.,” Morgan says nervously.
″You what ? Oh god, Morgan.” I rest my hand against my forehead. “What did he say?”
″He laughed.”
″Really?”
″Said it was his own fault for making you come with us.”
Brit smiles at me. “At least we know who is to blame.”