What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(122)

Before long, she found what she was looking for, a teenage girl with bleached hair and burned-out eyes. She approached her carefully.

“My name’s Georgie,” she said softly. “I’m a filmmaker. Can I talk to you?”



Chaz appeared at the beach house two days later. Georgie had been sitting in front of her computer, looking at film all morning, and she hadn’t even had a shower. As soon as Aaron answered the door, an argument broke out.

“You followed me!” she heard him exclaim. “You don’t even like to drive to the grocery, and you followed me all the way to Malibu?”

“Let me in.”

“No way,” he said. “Go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere till I talk to her.”

“You’ll have to get past me first.”

“Oh, puh-leeze, like you can stop me.” Chaz stormed past him and soon found the spare bedroom where Georgie had set up her equipment. She was dressed in avenger black right down to her flip-flops. “You know what your problem is?” she declared, advancing on Georgie without preamble. “You don’t care about people.”

Georgie had barely slept, and she was too drained to deal with this.

“Bram hasn’t come home from the studio for the past two nights.” Chaz continued her attack. “He’s miserable, and it’s all because of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started doing drugs again.” When Georgie didn’t respond, some of Chaz’s fire gave way to uncertainty. “I know you’re in love with him. Isn’t she, Aaron? Why don’t you just go back to him? Then everything will be fine.”

“Chaz, stop badgering her,” Aaron said quietly as he came up behind her.

Georgie had never imagined Aaron would turn into such a determined watchdog. His weight loss seemed to have given him a new confidence. One Tuesday, when Mel Duffy’s story about Georgie’s phone call had surfaced, Aaron had gone on the attack and issued a vigorous public denial without even consulting her. She’d told him that Mel’s account was true and she didn’t care anymore, but he refused to listen.

It was easier to attack Chaz’s weaknesses than think about her own. “Here’s the thing about people who are always sticking their noses into other people’s lives. It’s generally because they don’t want to deal with their own screwups.”

Chaz immediately went on the defensive. “Everything’s just fine in my life!”

“Then why aren’t you in culinary school right now? As far as I know, you haven’t even glanced at those GED workbooks.”

“Chaz is too busy to study,” Aaron said. “Just ask her.”

“I think you’re afraid if you step outside the security of what you have now, you’ll somehow end up back on the streets.” The words were no sooner out of Georgie’s mouth than she realized she’d betrayed Chaz’s confidence. She felt sick. “I’m sorry, I—”

Chaz scowled. “Oh, stop looking like that. Aaron knows.”

He did? Georgie hadn’t expected that.

“If Chaz doesn’t study,” Aaron said, “she won’t have to worry about flunking. She’s afraid.”

“That’s bull.”

Georgie gave up. “I’m too tired to deal with this now. Go away.”

Naturally, Chaz didn’t move. Instead, she regarded Georgie with displeasure. “You look like you’re losing weight again.”

“Nothing tastes good right now.”

“We’ll see about that.” Chaz stormed into the kitchen where she stomped around for a while, banging cupboard doors, opening and closing the refrigerator. Before long, she’d produced a crisp salad and a bowl of gooey mac and cheese. It was comfort food, but not as comforting as having Chaz fuss over her.



Georgie made this big fricking deal out of Chaz borrowing one of her swimsuits and going down to the beach. “Unless you’re afraid of the water.” Georgie had said it with a kind of sneer, like she was daring Chaz to put on a suit. She knew Chaz hated showing off her body, and she must have decided this was some kind of therapy. But since she’d basically dared her, Chaz had put on the suit, then rummaged around in Georgie’s crap until she found a terry cloth cover-up to wear over it.

Aaron lay on a beach towel, reading some kind of lame video game magazine. When she’d first known him, he wouldn’t get anywhere near the water. Now he wore new white swim trunks with navy trim. He still needed to lose a few more pounds, so he shouldn’t have looked so semihot, but he’d started working out with weights, and it showed. He was also spending money for decent haircuts, plus his contact lenses.

She sat on the end of the towel, her back to him. The cover-up didn’t even reach the middle of her thighs, and she kind of tucked her legs under her.

He put his magazine aside. “It’s hot. Let’s go for a swim.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Why not? You told me you used to swim all the time.”

“I just don’t want to right now, that’s all.”

He sat up next to her. “I’m not going to jump you just because you’re wearing a bathing suit.”

“I know that.”

“Chaz, you’ve got to get over what happened.”