Chapter 35
LUKE
The morning after getting drunk with Nic, I woke up with a headache and a guilty feeling I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t because of something I had done. It was what I hadn’t done.
The conversation we had overheard between Dixie and her friend kept rattling around in my brain like an annoying song. My ex had been torpedoing Clara’s life without her knowing, and it sure sounded like she was about to do it again.
Nic had insisted I not get involved. That I would just make things worse. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. Dixie had painted a target on Clara’s back because of me. Dixie had told her friend Clara had stolen me from her, which was obviously not the case.
Dixie was the kind of narcissist that could never admit she was at fault for anything. It would require her to admit she wasn’t perfect, and Dixie had never been capable of that kind of self-reflection and growth. So she blamed Clara.
Our last fight had started with me confronting Dixie about what she’d done to Clara, stealing her role in the Christmas play so she could sing the big song at the end.
I told her it was a shitty thing to do and I didn’t want to be with a girl who would do that to someone and not feel guilty at all.
Dixie never even faked any kind of remorse, and it sickened me.
I broke up with her then and there. Our split had been inevitable and it had been building long before the Christmas Spectacular. But Dixie wouldn’t believe it.
She said she saw Clara sit on my lap during the play, and Dixie knew exactly what had happened. She assumed that was when I chose Clara over her. I denied it but she was adamant. She was holding that irrational grudge for a crime Clara never committed.
While I moped around my parents’ house, growling at anyone who tried getting close to me, I kept trying to figure out what I needed to do.
My instinct told me to go find Dixie and tell her to cut the shit.
We weren’t in high school and she couldn’t keep acting like we were.
Grow the fuck up and let people live their lives in peace.
Not only was it all ancient history, but she and I were never going to get married and live happily ever after. If we hadn’t broken up that Christmas, it would have happened at some point before I left for college. I had never felt anything close to love for Dixie.
But if I went to talk to Dixie, it would probably accomplish the opposite of what I wanted. If I told my ex to calm down about Clara, she would explode like a nuclear warhead. Probably take the whole damn town down with her.
At the very least, she would see it as confirmation that Clara was to blame for the rift that grew between us. Then she would find more ways to hassle Clara.
What I could do was warn Clara that Dixie was out for blood.
I tried texting her and calling, but I was pretty sure she had blocked my number. Fair enough. I cleaned up and headed over to the high school, knowing they were all there prepping for the official performance later that night. Clara would definitely be there.
Nic had told me how much it meant to her, to have something to work on to distract her from all the shit I had put her through.
She had even more problems coming her way from Dixie, and that was because of me, too.
I pressed the gas harder, needing to get there as fast as I safely could.
If I got stopped for speeding, I could pay whatever bullshit ticket I got.
I ran into the school auditorium and slowed down, not wanting to draw every eye in the place. My fame already got me more attention than I wanted right then. I appreciated anyone who was a fan, but the only person I wanted to connect with was Clara. Her bright red hair was nowhere to be seen.
I went backstage and lurked around, again not wanting to draw attention. The first familiar face I saw was an unwelcomed one. Dixie fucking Garner. She had to be here to rain on Clara’s parade, which meant it was even more important for me to find her before it was too late.
I steered clear of my ex, which was easy enough. She never paid attention to anyone but herself. She was onstage, all spotlights on her, singing “Santa Baby,” which was easily the worst Christmas song. It was even less appealing when Dixie was singing it.
That woman was the opposite of sexy. I wasn’t sure what to call that. Maybe boner poison. Regardless, I had to suppress the urge to boo loudly. Maybe throw some rotten tomatoes at her.
I had more important things to do first. I could heckle her later, if there was time.
I spotted Mrs. Fletcher surrounded by a flurry of students. She wrangled the chaos like a composer conducting a symphony. I hated to interrupt her right before her big show, but this was urgent.
“Is Clara around?” I asked her.
She looked up at me and her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, dear, you’re too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
“Clara isn’t here.” Mrs. Fletcher took my arm and walked me away from the kids so we could talk.
“It was bad, Luke. Dixie all but screamed at her that she wasn’t welcome here.
She was being a real see you next Tuesday, if you know what I mean.
And because the mayor is sponsoring this whole thing, she’s allowed to do it. ”
My nose wrinkled. “So it’s true? She really broke up that marriage?”
“It would appear so,” she said. “I spoke to Clara after, but she was upset and she left.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I said through a red haze forming over my vision. “I think I need to talk to Dixie.”
“Oh, Luke, be careful.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said, not caring whether it would be or not.
I was finished taking Nic’s advice about not confronting Dixie for her shitty behavior. No one treated Clara like that and got away with it. Not if I had anything to say about it. Someone needed to set Dixie straight and pull her head out of her ass.
“Dixie Garner!”
She cut off singing about Santa coming down her chimney. The song had no business being performed at a school function. It was filthy and low-class, but that summed up Dixie to a tee.
“Why, Luke, are you here for my big performance?” She smiled like she was delighted to see me. Like she hadn’t done anything wrong. She probably really believed she hadn’t. People without souls couldn’t feel empathy or guilt.
“Oh, I think you already had your big performance earlier, when you were a bitch to Clara.”
That got everyone’s attention. High school kids could smell drama like sharks sniffing out blood in the water. They all gathered around and pulled their phones out.
“You do not talk to me like that, Luke Whitaker,” she said, drawing her chin up haughtily. A queen addressing a peasant.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked, genuinely curious. “How can you treat people like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re better than everyone,” I said, exasperated. “You act like you’re still in high school, as if anyone gives a shit you were prom queen once.”
“Me?” Dixie rolled her eyes. “You’re the one still picking fights with me over that stupid little girl. I get it. You love Clara and that’s why you broke up with me. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in my face ten years later.”
“You’re just jealous that Clara is more talented and is just a better person than you could ever be,” I told her, saying it loud and clear so all the kids got it on their phones. “Your only talent is spreading your legs for the mayor.”
A chorus of oohs rose around us. That left her speechless, at least for the moment. I didn’t stick around for when she found her voice again. I could only imagine the bile she would spew from those filler-inflated lips. Fuck her. I had a real woman to find.
On my way out to the parking lot, I called Clara again, but it didn’t even go to voicemail. I tried Nic and he answered.
“Dude, do you know where your sister is?” I asked him.
“Hello, to you, too,” he grumbled. “And she’s at the school, helping out with the play. The performance is tonight.”
“Nope. I’m just leaving there.” I told him what had happened with Clara and what I had said to Dixie. Then I apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your advice. I couldn’t let her keep getting away with it.”
“No apology necessary at all, bro. Thank you for standing up for Clara. I should have done it last night, but I figured she was just drunk and talking shit. I was worried we’d get her riled up. I was wrong. She’s a shitty person all by herself, without any help from us.”
“You got that right.” I sighed. “Do you think your sister might have left town?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “Hold on. Let me text her.”
I waited impatiently, walking in circles outside the school, just needing to know she was okay. The play had meant a lot to her and having Dixie bully her away must have been devastating. I needed to find her.
“She’s not responding.”
“Fuck.” I shook my head. “I’m going to go out looking for her.”
“I’ll keep trying her, but you let me know if you find her, all right?” Nic asked.
“Will do.”
I hopped in my rental and sped out of the parking lot.
She was probably fine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to find her, to see her with my own eyes and be sure.
Then, she could tell me to fuck off if she wanted to.
I just knew I wouldn’t be able to sit still until I made sure she was all right.
Harrison City wasn’t very big, which was nice when it came to searching for a wayward loved one. I checked Tipsy’s first, thinking she might be drinking away her sorrows. Her car wasn’t out front, but I ran in anyway, just in case. No one had seen her.
I tried the diner next with no luck. Then the theater where she used to work. There was nothing out front, so I decided to check around back. Sure enough, there was her piece of shit car, kept alive with prayers and her mechanic brother’s generosity.
I had never been happier to see a rusted-out beater than in that moment.
I parked beside it and went in through the back door of the theater. The smell of dust and old wood wrapped around me. It was like I could feel the history of the place. The door led to a hallway that led to the backstage area.
Light from the stage gave barely enough illumination for me to see back there, and I somehow managed not to trip on anything while I made my way toward the light. Then, there she was.
Clara sat at the edge of the stage, a single spotlight shining down on her. She slouched forward with her elbows on her knees, staring out at the empty seats like she could see the ghosts of past audiences.
She looked quite a bit different from the last woman I had seen under the spotlight on a stage. Unlike Dixie, Clara didn’t have a song in her heart anymore, and it was all my fault.
“Clara,” I said gently, not wanting to scare her. “Are you okay?”