Dirty Red (Love Me With Lies)(67)

“Yada. Yada,” Sam repeats. “Seems like a little more than yada-yada.”

I give him a stern look before continuing. “My birth mother was reluctant to give me up. She was young. Sixteen. When she was little, her mother used to read to her from an American book called, Tales of Johanna. She agreed to give me up, but only if my parents would name me Johanna. They wanted a baby so badly that they did.”

“So that’s kind of great,” Sam says. “It’s like she gave you something of herself.”

I snort. “Yeah, well … my parents only told me I was adopted when I was eight. You can imagine my shock. They sat me down in the formal dining room — just tiny little me and them — in this imposing room. I was so afraid I was in trouble; I was shaking the entire time. As soon as I found out about the origins of my name, I didn’t want it anymore.”

Sam reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Man, I thought my parents sucked.”

I grimaced. “So, that’s why I go by my middle name. The end.”

“Is Courtney their birth daughter?”

I nodded.

“What happened to her?”

“When my father died, she got sick.”

He interrupts me. “Sick?”

“In the head,” I say. “She was always that way. She was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. She’d go into these depressions and no one would hear from her for months. She didn’t tell anyone this time. We were all so wrapped up in our own lives, no one checked on her. I guess my father’s death and everything that happened around my trial just sent her over the edge.”

“So, did she-?”

I brake a little too hard at a red light, and he jerks forward.

“She shot herself. The bullet grazed her brain, and they were able to save her in time. But, there was too much damage.”

“God,” he says. "And this is the first time you’re seeing her since…”

“Since the hospital after it happened.”

His eyes are wide.

“Don’t judge me,” I snap, “I was pregnant. I was on bed rest.”

“You were a selfish, self-centered bitch.”

I glare at him. “I was afraid.”

“Of what, Leah? She’s your sister. God, I can’t believe I work for you. I feel sick.”

I glance at him. He does look pretty disgusted. “I’m making it right,” I say.

We drive in silence for the next few minutes.

“Ooh! Jamba Juice. Want one?” I swerve into the parking lot, and to my satisfaction Sam’s head hits the passenger side window with a nice little thud.

“Sorry,” I smile.

He rubs his head, seeming to forget his question.

“I’m going to ask Caleb to come home,” I say as I pull into a spot. I check his face to see his reaction.

“I don’t want a fruit juice,” he says.

“Come on, Sam!”

He shakes his head. “Bad idea. You’re going to get hurt.”

“Why?”

Sam sighs. “I don’t think he’s ready. Caleb is the type of man who has an agenda.”

“What does that mean?”

Sam scratches his head like he’s uncomfortable.

“What do you know?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“I’m a guy. I just know.”

“You’re gay! You don’t have special insight into straight men.”

He shakes his head. “You are the single most offensive woman I have ever met, you know that? And, I’m not gay.”

My mouth pops open. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugs, embarrassed. “I just told you that so you wouldn’t hit on me.”

I blink at him. He cannot possibly be serious. “Why would you think I’d want to hit on you? Ew, Sam! I can’t believe this!”

He sighs. “Are we getting a juice or not?”

I fling myself out of the car. “I’m not getting you anything. Stay here with the baby.”

I am so angry, I completely miss the Jamba Juice store and have to backtrack. Men are such worthless liars. I should have known he wasn’t gay. He wears way too much polyester to be gay. And, I haven’t once seen him check out Caleb. Caleb is freaking gorgeous.

I am sipping my juice and halfway back to the car when I start laughing.



When we get home, I call Caleb’s cell three times before he finally picks up.

“When you pick Estella up tonight, I was hoping you could stay a while so we can talk.”

There is a long pause before he says. “Yes, I need to talk to you, too.” I feel a surge of hope.

“Okay, it’s all set then. I’ll have Sam stay a little bit later than usual.”

I hear him sigh into the phone.

“Fine, Leah. I’ll see you tonight.”

He hangs up. I don’t even think about the fact that he never hangs up without saying goodbye, until a few minutes later.





The Past



Four months after Leah was acquitted, I filed for divorce.

Olivia

— That was my first thought.

Turner

— That was my second thought.

Motherf*cker