Chapter 28 #2
Actually, before that, he’d grab Ted and they’d do a line of coke. He’d already done some, so another line or two wouldn’t
matter, he could always get clean starting tomorrow, New Year’s resolution–style, and being high one final time would help
him get through that conversation with Hellie, not to mention numb the two fucking holes in his butt cheek . . .
The back of Phelps’s house glowed gently. It looked inviting. He just needed Bennett and Phelps to get buddy-buddy again.
“Hey, B,” Doug instructed, “my Wi-Fi signal here is shit, pull up this SNL video I want to show Phelps . . .”
Bennett gave Doug a look between reluctant and annoyed, but Doug made a lassoing motion. “Come on, just one favor, it’s the
injured man asking . . .”
Bennett pulled up the video and Phelps leaned in.
“It’s the best SNL skit of all time,” encouraged Doug. Soon his two friends would be laughing again—later they’d commend Doug for being the
glue that held the group together. “You’re gonna love this one—”
They were almost to the back deck. Doug was just noticing the two dark figures standing there. A woman—Olivia, leaning against
the railing—and Ted. Smoke was rising—he caught a whiff of weed. Perfect. He’d grab Ted, they could do their lines in the
bathroom, he’d say he needed help shitting or something, he was injured, no one would question it . . .
“Olivia!” said Bennett, suddenly noticing his wife and abandoning his phone with Phelps.
Olivia straightened up slowly.
“Hey, we need to talk.” Bennett was practically jogging toward the deck. “Let’s go inside.”
Phelps was right behind Bennett, with Bennett’s phone still in his hand, the faint chatter of the SNL video still playing. Doug was a little slower due to his injuries. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to catch his breath.
“What about, Bennett?” Olivia said. Her voice didn’t sound normal. She actually sounded pretty freaked out. If Doug didn’t
know better, he’d think she was having a bad trip.
“C’mon,” encouraged Bennett, reaching out a hand. “It’s good news, babe. Trust me.”
Olivia stood there, her face vivid with distress, like she couldn’t decide whether to take Bennett’s hand or make a run for
it.
“Bottom line,” said Doug, bracing his arm against the rail and looking up at his friends, “Phelps is nasty, but innocent.”
“What?” said Olivia, looking a bit wild.
“Shut up,” Bennett said sharply to Doug. He turned back toward Olivia and lowered his voice. “It’s all been a gigantic misunderstanding,
okay? All of it. Let’s go inside and—” He reached for Olivia’s hands, but she stepped away from him, backing herself up against
the end of the deck.
“Misunderstanding?” Her voice was high-pitched. “What do you mean?”
Phelps came to a halt right behind Bennett. Olivia looked between them, nearly choking on her words.
“Have you . . . have you been talking about me?”
“Short answer, yes,” volunteered Doug. Everyone ignored him this time.
“Are you okay?” said Bennett with concern, stepping toward his wife. Olivia’s eyes were wide and liquid, glinting in the dark. Cleary, she was not okay. Her breathing was fast, way too fast. Dude. Panic attack. Hellie had them, after the babies. Doug knew the signs.
“Guys—” he began, taking a single step up, but Phelps started talking in calm, instructive tones.
“Olivia, I know tonight has been a lot for all of us, but please hear us out. Our little talk in the kitchen? Remember that?
Yes? Okay. Well . . . some lines have gotten . . . crossed.” Phelps glanced at Ted, slightly removed from their trio but still
within hearing distance. Ted made a swooping gesture with his hand as if to say, Please continue. Phelps lowered his voice slightly. “What you think happened, didn’t happen. Bennett can explain once we’re somewhere more
private, and I can explain too, in fact, let’s all go inside, the three of us—”
“You’ll understand everything,” said Bennett, “if we can just tell you the real story of—”
Olivia shrieked. It was so sudden and so loud that Doug physically startled. She sprang into motion, pushing past Phelps and
Bennett, down the deck stairs, her coat flying open over her yellow dress. She knocked into Doug, who flattened himself against
the rail, and ran into the yard.
“Jesus,” Doug breathed. This was some next-level shit.
“Olivia! Stop! Please, just listen!” cried Bennett, brushing past Doug as he ran after her.
“Stay away from me!” shouted Olivia as she fled toward the edge of the property. She sounded unhinged. Miss Prim and Proper,
as he and Hellie had referred to her for years, had legit snapped. Maybe Doug had underestimated her level of passion, after
all.
Then, before Doug could even blink, she had disappeared into the cornfield.
Bennett wasn’t far behind. He stopped at the edge of the field.
“Olivia! Come back!” he cried. “You’re going to get lost in there!”
“Phelps! Jerked! Off!” shouted Doug helpfully, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” snarled Phelps, descending toward the yard and hitting him—painfully—in the arm. “Can’t you stop
ruining things for two seconds of your life?”
“What did I do?” said Doug, genuinely hurt. He cradled his arm.
“I’m going after her!” said Bennett in a wild voice.
“Wait! Let me get you a flashlight!” said Phelps. “There’s one in the Dog House. Wait, man—at least take your phone, I still
have your phone—” But Bennett was already gone.
The corn rustled, then went still.
Phelps stood stock-still in the yard, looking toward the cornfield, Bennett’s phone dangling from his hand. Doug could see
his shoulders rising and falling with his breathing.
Ted, from the height of the deck, was leaning on the rail and watching them. Smoke meandered from his joint into the dark
sky like it had all the time in the world.
Phelps finally turned. For once in his life, he seemed lost for words.
“Sooooo . . .” Ted took a drag, held the smoke, then released it. His lip quirked in a half grin toward Phelps. “Allie. Let’s
be real. Way too young and hot for you. Thoughts?”