A Different Blue(47)

“I didn't know!” I begged my conscience for acquittal. Mason had snapped that picture of me

without my knowledge, and his brother had gotten hold of it.

“I didn't know!” I said desperately, and this time my voice echoed in the filthy bathroom

where I cowered. I looked around at the soiled clothes, the drooping shower curtain, the rancid

toilet and the crud-lined sink. What was I doing here? What had I done? I chose to be here! And

I had chosen to be in that situation with Mason. I hadn't known about the picture. But I wasn't

innocent, either.

My actions had set off a chain of events. A mixed up girl, hungry for affection, makes a

terrible choice. Was I talking about Graciela or myself? I faced myself in the mirror and

immediately looked away. My actions, as inadvertent as they may have been, had triggered

Graciela's choice and. in turn, Manny's response. Manny, who had seemed to love the whole world

and, even more impressive, to like himself. I'm nobody. Who are you?

“I'm Manny,” he had said, as if that should have been enough. And why wasn't it? Because

despite all the good intentioned urging to just be yourself, how was being yourself even

possible if you didn't know who the hell YOU were? Manny seemed to have known, but he was as

susceptible as we all are to the influences of a world where people act without thought, live

without consciousness, and judge without understanding.

I grabbed my purse and headed back through the bedroom. Should I demand Mason's phone and delete

the picture, threatening to go to the police? Should I throw things and cry and tell him he was

a sick bastard and I never wanted to see him again? Would it do any good? The cat was already

out of the bag, so to speak. The picture was in the wind. And maybe that was justice.

I strode through the living room and shrugged into my jacket. Colby belched out a happy hello

and Brandon seemed uncomfortable. Mason was silent as I headed for the door. He had to have

known what I had heard.

“Don't go, Blue,” he said as I walked out. But he didn't come after me.





Chapter Nine





My truck was alone in the sea of striped black top. The lights in the parking lot made little

pools of orange on the ground, and I walked to my truck, grateful that the night was almost

over. My feet hurt. The high-heeled boots that made my legs look so long pinched my toes and had

me hobbling the last few steps. I dug my keys out of my purse and unlocked the door. It

screeched loudly as I swung it open, making me jump a little, although I'd heard it squeak a

thousand times before. I slid inside the cab, pulled the door shut, and shoved the keys into the

ignition.

Click, click, click, click.

“Oh no! Not now, please not now!” I wailed. I tried again. Just the series of fast little

clicks. The lights wouldn't even turn on. The battery was dead. I said a very unladylike word

and beat on the steering wheel, making the horn bleep for mercy. I considered sleeping in the

front seat. Home was miles away, and I was wearing impossibly high, ridiculous shoes. It would

take me hours to walk home. Cheryl was at work, so she couldn't come get me. But if I stayed put

I would be faced with the same dilemma in the morning, and I could be stuck walking home with

raccoon makeup and bedhead in broad daylight.

[page]Mason would come and get me. He would probably answer on the first ring. I shoved the