“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s hurt, but he doesn’t hate you. How long is the contract for?”
“One year.” Jess tops off her glass of wine and hands me mine. “Let me ask you something, Jess. When you moved home, why didn’t you work in TV?”
“Just wasn’t something I was passionate about anymore,” she admits. “But you love it, don’t you?”
“I used to. But I don’t love it more than I love Matt.”
“So then why did you take the job?”
“Because I’ve always done what’s expected of me, what I should do. As you know, my life was no bed of roses growing up, so I always played it safe and set goals to achieve. This was on my list of goals, so I took the job. For once, I did something that I thought might make me happy.”
“But this goal isn’t making you happy.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head and feel a tear fall from my eye and roll down my cheek. I swat it away and sip some more wine.
“So you haven’t been eating, or taking care of yourself or your place.” Jess looks around at my filthy condo. I shake my head.
“You have to eat, Linds.”
“I know,” I mumble.
“You don’t look healthy.”
I snort. “Well, according to the bitch-hole Amanda, I’m a fat cow.”
“And you’re really going to listen to her? Newsrooms around the country are filled with crazy-ass women trying to compete with one another, calling each other fat or ugly. Come on, Lindsay; you’re smarter than that.”
“She found my weak spot. I used to be anorexic in college,” I admit. “My life was such a mess back then, Jess. What I put in my mouth, or the lack thereof, was the only thing I could control. It was the only thing that made me feel powerful. It’s so easy to fall back into that trap when your life is spiraling out of control.”
“You need help, Linds.” Jess sets the bowl of popcorn on the island and slides off. “Let me help you. We’ll start by getting this place cleaned up and look for some local resources to help you with the eating disorder.” She places her hand on my forearm. More tears spill from my eyes and, this time, I don’t bother to chase them away—I let them fall. Jess wraps her long arms around my neck and hugs me while I cry.
“I’m sorry you came to spend time with me this weekend and, here I am, a total mess,” I say, pulling myself together.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else other than with my friend right now.”
Jess and I spend the next few hours reminiscing and drinking more wine. I notice the three empty bottles on the kitchen island and find myself nearly dozing off. “I’m going to call it a night,” I say with a yawn and stretch my arms over my head.
“I’m going to finish cleaning up out here,” Jess says as she turns on the kitchen sink. I stumble back to the bedroom, my eyes heavy and my head dizzy. I feel light-headed, I’m sure due to a combination of the wine and Oxy. I pull open the nightstand and feel around for the baggie. Pulling it from under the book, I try to open the top of the baggie through blurred vision, but before I do, I feel myself falling.
“A royal flush,” I say with a straight face as I set my cards down on the felt table.
“Bullshit,” I hear Landon say as he leans in to inspect my hand. “Bastard,” I hear as I see cards fly across the table! I reach in and pull the chips over to my side of the table and laugh.
“I’ve never in my life had a royal flush,” I say, stacking the poker chips.
“How in the hell did you manage that?” Landon asks as he collects the loose cards. His cell phone rings in his pocket. “Shit,” he grumbles. “Better not be work. I need a couple of hours sleep tonight.” I glance at my phone and can’t believe that it’s two-thirty in the morning. We’ve been playing poker for over five hours straight. Landon looks at his phone and back at me then back to his screen.
“Who is it?” I ask, putting the chips in the heavy metal case.
“Jess,” he says, confused. The phone stops ringing.
“Jess?” I blurt out. “What is she doing calling you?” He shrugs and swallows hard, still looking at the missed call on his phone. The phone begins ringing again and he looks at me before swiping the answer icon and pushing himself away from the table to take the phone call. The other guys and I all watch him as he walks over to the other side of the game room.
“What happened?” I hear him say as he runs his hand across his jaw. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles into the phone. “How far away is he?” He paces the game room, glancing quickly at me. “Let him decide. Don’t leave her until he gets there and call an ambulance if anything changes before he arrives.” I jump up and move toward him. He watches me, then looks at the watch on his left wrist. “I’ll be on the first flight in the morning,” he says as he shoves the phone back in his front pocket.