Chapter 10
“I tried calling you.” Laurel’s voice was taut as a guitar string. Her hair was damp with a sprinkling rain.
Jackie winced. When was the last time she had heard that tone of voice? Laurel so seldom got mad at anything she could not even remember. Rummaging through her purse, she pulled out the broken remains of her cell phone. “Pernetti took a dislike to it for some reason.”
“Some reason?” Laurel’s hands came to rest on her hips, balled up into fists. “Do I want to go in and ask Marly what happened?”
“Um, no.” Jackie smiled nervously at her. “I had good reason though. Pernetti-”
“Fuck Pernetti,” she snapped back, leaning in close. “How many drinks have you had, Jackie?” She did not wait for an answer and spun on her heel, marching back to her car.
Jackie hurried after her. Unlike the anger that Pernetti’s comments inspired, Laurel’s reaction had the opposite effect on Jackie. Her stomach instantly knotted up in fear. Fuck Pernetti? Christ, she really is pissed. “I only had a couple. He called you a-”
“A couple?” She paused, her hand on the door handle of her blue Beetle. “You had only two drinks?” Jackie’s silence only appeared to inspire her anger. “Don’t even know, do you? Did you hit him, Jack?” The feeble smile was all the reply she needed. “Damnit! You can get suspended for that shit, Jackie.” She got in and slammed the door before Jackie could stumble out any kind of reply.
Jackie got into the passenger’s seat, staring at Laurel in something close to shock. Her partner, best friend in the world, clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. Where had this all come from?
“Pernetti started it, Laur. He called you a boot-licking, dykey witch.”
Laurel took a deep breath and stared at Jackie for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was trembling. “I don’t give a shit about anything Pernetti says, and you know it.”
“Well,” Jackie replied, trying to sound indignant, “if you had been there, you would’ve been pissed, too.”
“No!” She pounded her hands against the steering wheel. “Pernetti can be a prick for the rest of our lives, for all I care. His behavior is not the problem.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, I don’t like him.”
“You don’t like men, period.”
“What?”
“Men, Jackie. You got a big issue with them, and I understand why, but I’m tired of seeing it drag you down into this… this place you’re in.”
“What place is that?” Jackie’s hand absently went to her stomach, which churned away with a fear that bordered on panic. “What are you talking about?”
“Am I stupid, Jack? Do I look blind?”
“No. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
“I know what happened to you. I know why you’ve got this thing. Why every guy is the biggest asshole in the world. Not all guys are like that, mind you, but it drives you, and that makes you strong in some ways. I admire that drive.” She smiled faintly.
“Thanks.”
“No, shut up. Let me finish while I still have the nerve.”
Jackie leaned away from her, against the door, watching her. “Okay.”
“Okay. First thing, why did you fight Pernetti? No, don’t answer,” Laurel said quickly, holding up a finger to her. “I’ll tell you, because I’ll bet I already know. He made a quip about what or how much you were drinking.” Jackie’s sheepish silence answered the question. “How about the guy this weekend? The lifeguard. What was his name?”
What the hell was his name? That whole night was a foggy blank. She had not even known when he left her apartment. “Does it matter?”
“Would you have had any interest at all if you weren’t plastered off your ass?”
Jackie looked down at her lap. No. She would not have given him the time of day. “Okay, so I got a little drunk and fucked a stranger. I’m not the first woman to do that, you know.”
“Jackie Rutledge,” Laurel said, pointing a shaking finger at her. “You don’t fuck anyone unless you’re so shit faced you don’t even know your own name.”
“Hey! That’s not…” Jackie faded to silence again. It was true.
“See! Not a one. I’ve been with you for eight years, Jackie. You’re my partner, and I care about you more than anyone.” Her hand reached out and pulled Jackie’s hand off her stomach and held it in her own. “Look at me, please.”
For a moment she could not bear it, but Jackie finally forced herself to look into the teary eyes of her friend. Jackie squirmed in her seat. “What?”
“They aren’t all your stepfather. There are a few good ones out there.”
She tried to grin. “That might be debatable.”
“Cut the shit! Quit hating yourself, hon. Forgive your mother for being weak and stop being scared you are just like her. You aren’t. Trust me.”
Anger billowed up inside. “I don’t hate myself! And what’s with all the psychobabble? All I did was smack Pernetti-”
“Because you’re half drunk! Why? To mull over the case? Bullshit! You don’t need six fucking shots of tequila to mull over anything.”
“I didn’t say-”
“Quit talking, Jack!” Laurel released her steel grip on Jackie’s hand and stabbed a finger at her again. “This isn’t about today or punching Pernetti. This is just the final straw, and I’ve got to say something before it drives me insane and makes me hate you.”
Jesus Christ. The ghost shit had really done a number on her. Clearly, she had to get something off her chest, so Jackie stayed silent and waited.
“I don’t want to hate you. I want…” She paused, gathering herself, and heaved a sigh. “Damnit, Jackie. You need to figure this out. I don’t want to cover your ass anymore on this stuff.”
Jackie shrugged. “Okay. Then don’t. You don’t need to do that. I’m a big girl, you know.”
Laughter half dissolved into tears. “That’s just the thing. You’re still that little girl inside who is terrified she’ll become her mother, and no amount of alcohol is going to hide that fear, Jackie. It’ll never go away until you face it down.”
“I, um…” What could she say to those tears? Everything inside turned to a quivering, gelatinous mess. Part of her wanted to lash out, tell Laurel to fuck off for being so presumptuous, but the problem was, she was right. “I will.”
“When, Jackie? When cirrhosis sets in? When you’re eighty years old and lonely and bitter and realize you’re going to die never having loved a single person in your life because you were too afraid to let them see who you are?”
“I don’t drink that much,” she said defensively.
“Only when you want to be with a guy. Because you’re too afraid they’ll see your mother in you.”
Tears welled up in Jackie’s eyes. “That’s not true.”
Laurel squeezed her hand, tears spilling down her own cheeks. “It is, and it’s ruining you, Jackie. You have to deal with this somehow.”
“I can deal with it fine.” The words did not even sound truthful to herself, and she wiped at the tear that threatened to spill. “I do just fine.”
“You ever want to love? You ever want a real, honest relationship?”
“Of course,” Jackie said with a laugh. They had to stop talking now, or she was going to burst into tears, and with her luck, the guys would all come walking through the parking lot just then.
“Then do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Next time you want to be with a guy, no drinking. Can you do that?”
What a stupid question. But deep down Jackie was not sure. She tried to imagine taking a guy home for the night, completely sober, completely herself. Christ. Jackie took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I… Yeah, I think so.”
“Good,” Laurel said, seemingly satisfied for the moment. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue. “Here. Scary thought, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“Letting someone see who you really are. Inside.”
Jackie swallowed the lump in her throat and just nodded, wiping at the tears that ran down her cheeks now. She felt twelve years old all of a sudden.