CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Julia drove by the ‘Welcome to the City of Massey’ sign. She felt sick. Her old boyfriend, James Stockton, lived here, but it was the only place she knew. Where else could she go?
Her mind circled around thoughts of Maine—how great it would’ve been to go there with Conor.
But last she saw of him, he was breaking into a safe at Sacred Heart.
If he hadn’t done that, they’d probably be halfway to the East Coast by now.
She turned off the classic rock coming from her radio, needing silence. Why did he have to do that?
She knew Conor was rough around the edges. But if he would steal from a church, what else would he do? After seeing that, it made sense to leave and drive back to this horrible town. The town she grew up in. The town she got raped in. Massey.
Pulling into a convenience store, she turned off the ignition.
She tilted down the rearview mirror and gave herself a once-over.
Not a pretty sight. Digging eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick out of her purse, she went to work.
The makeup didn’t help much, but it was something.
Really, how good could a girl look after driving most of the night before sleeping in her car at a truck stop?
She went into the convenience store. The guy behind the counter smiled way too wide when he rang up her cigarettes.
Passing her change back, he gripped her hand for a moment and ran his thumb over the back of her hand.
She pulled her hand away and threw the change at him.
It felt good listening to him curse as she walked out.
Back inside her car, she looked up an old friend on her cell. Angela Duncan. Starting the car, she searched for Angela’s address, put it into Google maps, and then pulled out of the parking lot.
Angela would let her crash at her place until she figured things out.
They’d been tight when they’d worked the cleaning crew at Woodlands High School.
Julia smiled, remembering how Angela would sing classic rock, like Zeppelin, Foreigner, and Bad Company, shaking her ass and whipping her long blonde hair around while they mopped floors, trying to one-up each other with their dance moves.
And when they weren’t dancing, Angela was sneaking up on her, kissing her neck from behind and talking in a low voice, play acting that she was a boyfriend who’d come to take her away.
All fun all the time—that was Angela. The only thing Angela ever bitched about was Karla, their boss.
Karla only had her job because her dad was on the school board.
It was part of life. People used connections all the time, but it sure chapped Angela’s ass.
And it probably explained why she’d been distant before Julia left. Julia shook her head.
She probably thought I was sleeping with James to get ahead. That’s why she stopped talking to me. Thought I was another Karla.
A sign that read “Windsor Farms” came into view on the right side of the road.
She pulled into the development. The temperature cooled in the shade of the huge oak trees towering over the road that wound its way into the development.
It was a nice place, built to look like some kind of old southern plantation.
A white, split-rail fence lined the edge of the road.
Lots of old trees, a clubhouse, a pool, and tennis courts completed the picture as you drove further in.
Julia remembered that she and Angela had gone to a couple parties here thrown by pampered college kids back when they were janitors.
She turned onto Angela’s street, White Birch Lane.
Each rowhouse had a parking space and a nice, leafy-green tree out front.
Julia pulled into a spot in front of her old friend’s house.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. The jagged scar across her cheek blazed—an ugly reminder of when she’d moved down in the world.
She averted her gaze, scanning the splendor of Windsor Farms. Somehow, someway, at the same time she was being beaten and raped into submission by James, Angela had moved up.
It would be fun to hear how she’d done it.
Good for you, Angela, she thought, opening her car door and stepping out to gaze at Angela’s rowhouse. At least one of us is going in the right direction.
* * *
Julia sniffed her armpits before she knocked on Angela’s door.
A shower was way past due. She knocked and crossed her arms, checking her watch.
A little past noon on a Sunday. Hopefully, Angela was here.
She didn’t know what she’d do if Angela wasn’t home.
She had no job, and her last paycheck wouldn’t last long.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
She put her ear against the door.
It was quiet inside.
She turned to leave, feeling a cold stone of despair settle in her stomach.
Now what? She couldn’t go back to Brannigan—she’d already quit her job.
And she didn’t have much gas in her car anyway.
The best move would probably be to sit in her car and wait.
Maybe Angela was working. Maybe she’d come home later.
She took a step away from the door when she heard it. Someone thumping their way down a flight of stairs inside the rowhouse.
Julia turned.
The door opened.
It was Angela. Her hair was super long and a blinding shade of blonde. She’d lost weight in the waist and hips—but somehow kept her big chest—and had a tan that nearly matched the orange of her gym shorts, but it was definitely her. No one’s face lit up quite like Angela’s when she smiled.
“Julia?” said Angela.
Julia smiled back at her. All she could manage was a quick “Hi” before Angela squealed and jumped on her, squeezing her in a hug.
It was early, but Julia took one of the beers Angela brought from the kitchen.
She sat on a couch, watching Angela sprawl across a rattan chair with overstuffed floral cushions.
Angela lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke.
She picked a piece of tobacco off her tongue and folded her bare legs under her.
“Been a long time,” said Angela. “What are you doing back here?”
Julia scanned the town house. “Looks like you’re doing okay for yourself.”
“Can’t complain,” said Angela. She took a drag on her cigarette, swigged her beer, and cocked her head. “Last I heard, you were seeing that superintendent, Mr. Big Shot James Stockton. Then you disappeared. Not even a goodbye. What happened?”
Julia nodded. “I got a job out of town,” she said, touching the scar on her cheek. “Sorry about ghosting you, but it came up all of a sudden.”
Angela pointed at the scar. “What happened there?”
Julia lowered her hand. She stood and walked to the big picture window with a view of the parking lot. She picked up a photo of her and Angela smiling and holding up beer bottles. “This was a fun party,” she said, tapping the photo.
Angela stubbed out her cigarette. She walked over, took the photo from Julia, and placed it on the window ledge. “You okay?” she asked, gripping Julia’s shoulder.
Tears welled in Julia’s eyes.
Angela hugged her. “It’s okay. I got you.”
Julia let Angela lead her back to the couch. Having someone hold her and tell her everything was going to be fine felt good. She didn’t know how much she’d needed it until now. “I need someplace to stay, but just for a little bit,” she said, sitting on the couch.
“Long as you need,” said Angela, sitting next to her.
“I don’t have much money.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
Julia laid her head on Angela’s shoulder. “There’s this guy. We were going to go away together,” she said, feeling Angela play with her hair.
“Can’t trust guys,” said Angela.
“I saw him breaking into a church with a couple other guys. They were trying to break into a safe. Can you believe that?”
“You deserve better.”
Julia sighed. “He seemed like such a good guy.”
Angela circled a finger around Julia’s ear. “Men can fool you. It’s happened to all of us.”
“He was really cute.”
“That’s how they suck you in,” said Angela. She rubbed the back of Julia’s neck. “You need help bringing your stuff in?”
Julia grabbed Angela’s pack of cigarettes. She lit one and took a drag, handing it to Angela. “You sure it’s not going to be a problem for me to stay?”
Angela nodded, took a drag, and then handed the cigarette back to Julia. “You can sleep with me. I got a king size bed. It’s big enough for both of us.”
Julia smiled. “You mind if I take a shower before we get my stuff?”
Angela raised her eyebrows. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah, take that shower. You are ripe, girl.”
* * *
The shower relaxed Julia. When she was done, she realized how tired she was.
She wrapped a towel around her and walked into Angela’s bedroom.
Angela was on the bed in a white muscle shirt and panties, reading a magazine.
Julia put on a black T-shirt and jumped on the bed next to Angela.
“You’re looking tight. You been working out? ”
Angela looked over the top of the magazine. “I’ve been dancing.” She hid behind the magazine again.
Julia pulled down the magazine. “What kind of dancing?”
“The fun kind,” said Angela.
“Oh my god,” said Julia, smacking Angela’s thigh. “You’re a stripper!”
Angela lifted her shirt, flashing Julia. “If you got ’em, use ’em.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Julia. “Really?”
“It’s not bad,” said Angela, tossing her magazine on the floor. “Listen. If you need work, we’re looking for another girl. You’d rake it in with that body of yours.”
“My tits are too small,” said Julia, laughing. She lay down on her side. “But I can’t even think about it now. I’m exhausted.”
Angela spooned her and talked into the back of her neck. “You sleep. I’m gonna clean up downstairs and then I’ll join you. I gotta work tonight.”
Julia listened to Angela pad out of the room. She watched the bedroom door shut, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
* * *
Angela lit a cigarette and stood at the bottom of the stairs with an ashtray in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
She blew out a cloud of smoke. She’d always been a good friend to Julia.
Danced with her. Partied with her. She’d had feelings for that girl, which was why it had been so disappointing when she’d heard that Julia was catting around with James Stockton.
Angela knew how it worked. Julia gave herself to James and got something in return.
Like everyone else, she was making a deal.
That had been bad enough. The worst, however, had been how Julia left without saying a word.
Never even called or texted. But she sure didn’t have any trouble coming over when she had nowhere else to go.
Typical. She only thought about herself, just like everyone else.
“So, you won’t be surprised if I do the same,” Angela whispered.
She smoked her cigarette to the filter and gazed up the steps, listening, but Julia never made a sound.
A last cloud of smoke eased out of her as she put the ashtray on the coffee table, and then walked into the kitchen.
She dialed a number. When James Stockton answered, she took a deep breath and smiled.
“Hey, honey,” she whispered. “Your old girlfriend Julia is here.” She shook her head.
“No, I’m not kidding. She’s sleeping in my bed right now.
” She laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s me. Very thoughtful.
” She walked into the living room, lit another cigarette then stepped quietly back into the kitchen.
“No, there’s no guy. She’s alone.” She tapped ash into the sink.
“I’m gonna take her to Sweeties tonight.
See if Billy can get her on the stage. You help make that happen, like you did for me, and she’ll be there waiting for you.
” She narrowed her eyes. “But you’re gonna owe me.
” She listened for a moment, then shook her head.
“I’ll let you know what I want. Let me think on it a bit. See you soon.”
She walked upstairs on tiptoe. Slipping under the covers, she tucked in behind Julia and nuzzled her. Julia smelled good. All soapy and clean. Julia let out a small, satisfied groan and Angela kissed her neck.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered. “I got you. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”