Over Her Dead Body(27)

“Hello,” a voice said. “This is Silvia Hernandez.” How do I know that name? Oh, right. Louisa’s nurse.

“I am very sorry to have to tell you this,” Silvia Hernandez said, “but I have some very sad news. Very sad.” I heard her voice catch. She was crying.

And I knew the worst possible thing that could happen to a person had just happened to my aunt.





CHAPTER 20




* * *



JORDAN


She was waiting up for me when I got home from the gym. It was nearly midnight. I was rank with sweat, and completely exhausted. But even still, the sight of her sitting on the couch in our living room buoyed my heart.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” I said. I thought she might disagree with me, as we obviously had a lot to talk about, but instead she did something completely unexpected: she started to cry.

“I stink so bad right now,” I said, so she knew why I didn’t try to hug her. Not that I thought she wanted me to hug her. I didn’t know what she wanted. Obviously.

“This is my fault,” she blurted. And for a second I dared to hope that she was going to tell me the date was awful, that the man she really wanted was me.

“I totally led you on,” she said, and my hope was crushed like an empty beer can. “I didn’t mean to. I think I mistook the rush of emotion I felt about getting Brando back for something else? It was careless, and I’m sorry. I’ll always love you as a friend. I hope you know that.” With those words—“as a friend”—I understood that I was, and had always been, her last resort. Just like our “pact” implied. “If no better candidate emerges, and I reach the age that none likely will, I’ll take you.” It was a pathetic impetus for an engagement. And I should have known better.

“How did you meet him?” I asked, because apparently I was a glutton for punishment.

She told me the story of collecting Brando at the “creepy” house at the end of the cul-de-sac, how her heart had “leaped out of her chest” when he answered the door. “I’ve never felt that way before,” she said, I guess to make me feel better, and also worse.

“The whole thing just seems so . . . inevitable, y’know?” I didn’t know, so I shook my head. “Brando chose that house. And Nathan was there, and his aunt was a casting director, and knew of a job that was perfect for me.” I didn’t believe in fate in the way she did, but I knew there was no way to talk her out of her conclusion that it was all “meant to be.”

“One-stop shopping,” I joked, and she smiled.

“I can’t help but think this is the one,” she said. I thought she was talking about Nathan, until she added, “the big break I’ve been waiting for!” And it occurred to me that the two were connected—this job and this man were her long-awaited destiny.

We’d had versions of the “This is the one!” conversation many times before—after she’d auditioned for a character with her same initials, or for that casting director who was also from Wisconsin, or for that remake of the movie that had made her want to be an actress when she was twelve. This wasn’t the first time she’d found a reason why “this one was different.” But I opted not to remind her.

“Listen, Ashley,” I said. I had made a decision at the gym, and there was no point waiting to tell her. “I’ll always care about you, but I can’t go on like this, being your roommate.” After fifteen rounds with the speed bag, I realized the only way I could move on from this fantasy of finding forever with my childhood friend was to get away from her.

She nodded slowly, like it hadn’t occurred to her that after being dissed I wouldn’t want to stick around. “Do you want me to move out?”

“I was thinking about finding a place closer to work anyway,” I said, which was true; I’d just never had a reason to confess that until now.

“If I get this job, maybe I can take over the rent by myself,” she said brightly. And I felt a little sorry for her.

“You’re putting a lot of stock in this woman.” It’s not that I didn’t believe this woman could help Ashley if she wanted to. I just knew how often people—especially LA people—promised things (I’ll call you! Let’s do lunch!), then never delivered. The word people used was “flaky”; but the more accurate word was “rude.”

“I think she really believes in me. And she’s so connected. I mean, she knows everybody. I think she might be the missing piece.”

Of course she had no way of knowing that this casting director was not the missing piece, but rather, the piece that was about to go missing. And you didn’t have to be a doctor to know that where she was going, there was no coming back.





PART 3



* * *



AFTER

WINNIE & CHARLIE





CHAPTER 21




* * *



WINNIE


I found out my mother was dead in the produce aisle at Whole Foods.

I was examining an organic lemon the size of a baseball when my cousin’s call came in. I almost didn’t answer—I can’t stand people who jabber on their phones in supermarkets, blocking your access to the butter, then getting all self-important when you interrupt to ask them to move—but Nathan didn’t call very often, and I was curious what he wanted.