Part 12 (2/2)

”It wasn't the penthouse,” I mumbled.

He stood up. I could tell he was angry again.

”And you know?” he asked, as he paced in front of me. ”It really p.i.s.ses me off that you think working in a bar is so shameful. I work in a bar, Roxie. Does that mean you look down on me?” He stopped pacing, stood in front of me and pointed at his chest. ”No, wait. Don't answer that question. Of course you do. That's why you left me and got engaged to some rich a.s.shole a week later.”

I gasped and looked up at him. Was that the way he saw it? Was that what he'd been thinking all this time? That I was ashamed of him for being a bartender? That I married Caleb for money? Is he right?

I touched my cheek because it felt like I'd been slapped, even though he hadn't touched me. And since I was still in an uber-sensitive mood after crying all morning, that was all it took to get the tears behind my eyes again. I blinked away what I could, but there was really no way to hide them this time.

”Never mind,” he said. ”I shouldn't have said that.”

”I wasn't ashamed of you,” I said quietly.

”That s.h.i.+t doesn't even matter anymore.”

”It seems like it kind of does, or you wouldn't have said it.”

He sat down next to me again and looked at me seriously. ”Look, staying and trying to make this work for you, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Running away after barely giving it a chance, that's a reason for people to look down on you. That's something to be ashamed of. But you go ahead and leave if you want. I've gotten used to it.”

And with that, he left the room. A few minutes later I watched through the bay window as his Jeep pulled away from the house.

Jake's comments gave me a lot to think about, but I didn't have the time to think about them at the moment because I was supposed to meet Violet for our afternoon outing in an hour, and I looked like a train wreck.

I ran upstairs and washed my face again, put on some of my Benefit Eye Bright again and took another chance on mascara except I used waterproof.

I wasn't in the right mood to be trying to encourage or inspire anyone, but I told her I'd be there today, so I was going to be there.

I was sitting on a park bench, lacing up my roller skates, when her grandma dropped her off in the parking lot. When Violet told me she liked to roller skate, I'd been super excited about it because I hadn't done it since I was a kid. I had to buy myself a pair of roller skates but I bought them at a discount sporting goods store instead of an expensive designer. At least one thing about my life seemed to be changing for the better, eh?

Violet got out of her grandma's car and headed toward me with a surly look on her face. Don't tell anyone, but I kind of wished I had gotten a younger little sister, one who was too young for att.i.tude problems and backtalk. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't happy to be there. She'd rather be hanging out with her hoodlum friends and stealing makeup from drug stores. Maybe I didn't have to feel guilty for not particularly wanting to be there either.

She was a pretty girl, with her thick brown ponytail, big blue eyes and pet.i.te frame, but she wore way too much makeup for anyone to tell. Also, att.i.tude was worth a lot more than a pretty face, and she had a serious problem in that department.

As her grandma's car pulled away from the park, Violet turned and held up her middle fingers on both hands towards the car like she was some kind of gangsta. She sat down next to me on the park bench, looked at her watch and said, ”One hour. Starting now.”

Umm, okay. I was suddenly kind of scared.

She had the kind of skates that attached to the bottom of her shoes. Once she had them on she stood up and said, ”Come on, lady. I'll race you to the concession stand.”

I was still fuming over being called lady as she raced off like some kind of speed skater. I wasn't foolish enough to try to beat her so I skated over at a slower pace that was just fast enough to keep my eye on her in case she tried sneaking off. By the time I made it to the concession stand, she was literally skating circles around the small building, and I was clutching my sides in pain. I needed to work out more!

She laughed when she saw me. ”I was going to say we should get an ice cream, but it doesn't look like you need one,” she said with a smirk.

Was she calling me fat? That little b.i.t.c.h! I was too out of breath to reply, and for that I was lucky, or I might have been banned from the BBBSA forever.

She giggled, and her eyes danced as she skated around me. I was still trying to catch my breath.

”Water,” I gasped. I sat down at one of the picnic tables and pulled a plastic Victoria's Secret Pink water bottle out of my bag. It was gigantic. It didn't fit in the cup holders of my car or any piece of exercise equipment in our bas.e.m.e.nt. It took up practically all of the s.p.a.ce in my bag and I needed two hands to drink from it. But it was a free gift with purchase, and it was cute and girly, and said Drink Pink on it, so how could I resist?

Violet laughed even harder. She sat down across from me at the picnic table. ”You need some help with that?” she asked snidely.

What is this girl's problem today?

She pulled a water bottle out of her backpack. It was yellow and had a smiley face on it.

”You couldn't find one with a frown?” I asked.

For a second, she looked p.i.s.sed that I had given her some of her own c.r.a.p. Then she smiled and I could tell she appreciated it.

”What's this I hear about you stealing lip gloss from CVS?” I asked her.

She shrugged. ”I stole lip gloss from CVS.”

”I heard. But I don't understand why you did it. Your grandma told me she gave you twenty dollars, and the lip gloss was only like three dollars.”

”It wasn't about the money,” she said. ”It was about the thrill.”

”You think getting arrested is thrilling? You think having to go to court and possibly being sent to a juvenile jail is thrilling? You think your grandma having to pay your fines and court costs is thrilling?”

”No,” she said seriously. ”Not that stuff. I really do feel bad about the fines.”

”You should. Especially since she was nice enough to give you money to shop. A lot of kids your age don't get an allowance.”

”I know,” she agreed. ”None of my friends ever have money. That's why they steal.”

”Did they know that you had money that day?”

She shook her head.

”Why didn't you tell them that you didn't need to steal makeup? That you could buy it?”

She shrugged and looked at the ground. ”I don't know. I guess I wanted them to like me. To think I was brave.”

Oh dear ... she reminded me so much of myself for saying that.

”Violet,” I started off cautiously. ”Being a follower is not brave. It's weak. The brave person would be the one who said to all her friends, 'Hey, we have enough makeup and stealing is for losers. Let's take my allowance and get a pizza instead.'”

She shook her head. ”You don't understand,” she told me. ”There are two kinds of people at my school rich ones and poor ones. I'm like the only one in the middle. I can't pretend to be rich but I can pretend to be poor.”

”I understand wanting to fit in. But stealing doesn't make you poor; it makes you a criminal. You really have to stop worrying about what people think before it takes over your life, and you don't even remember who you really are anymore.”

She snorted. ”That's great coming from you.”

I was shocked at her audacity. ”What do you mean?”

”Look at you with your Kate Spade bag and your Victoria's Secret water bottle that probably weighs fifteen pounds. You didn't bring that to the park because it's a practical way to stay hydrated while you're roller skating. You brought it because other people would see it and think to themselves, oh how cute is that? I wish I had a water bottle like her.”

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