Page 64 of All That Glitters
Debbie dropped to the other side of the fence and ran, her overnight bag bouncing against her hip as she sprinted across the parking lot. She fumbled with her car keys, her hands shaking so badly she could barely get them in the ignition.
The Honda coughed to life just as she saw a figure appear around the corner of the building. Without looking back, she peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her tires squealing in a way that probably woke half the neighborhood.
It wasn’t until she was three blocks away that she realized she was crying.
Debbie stormed into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind her. She dropped her overnight bag on the floor, and let out a deep, primal growl.
Veronica looked over from the couch, where she’d been watching her latest reality show addiction, ‘Groundskeeper Needs a Wife’. “Whoa. Rough drive?”
“Oh, the drive was fine,” Debbie said, grabbing a bag of chips off the table and shoving a handful into her mouth. “Six hours of Southern California traffic jams on a Friday night. What’s not to love. The rough part came when I got to that flea-bitten, roach-infested, Bates-family-reject of a motel he’s staying at!”
“So you saw him?”
“Yup!” Debbie said, chopping down on the chips. “I saw him all right. I saw him getting all cozy beside a pool full of what I can only assume was ninety percent human urine with that blonde bimbo his friends can’t stop drooling over. You know, the one with the boobs that defy both gravity and God’s natural plan!”
“Carrie Thompson?”
“That’s the one.” Debbie shoved another handful of chips into her mouth. “Oh, and get this — he was laughing with her! And not just any laugh; it was that stupid, cute, infuriating laugh he does. And he was doing it with her! I hope a bird poops on her head! I hope she gets a flesh-eating bacteria from being near that disgusting pool!”
Veronica turned off the TV. Once again, Debbie’s drama was way more interesting than any reality show. “Okay, roomie. Let’s take a breath,” she said. “Isn’t she the lead actress in his movie? Maybe they were just working. Or talking script notes. The whole thing could be an innocent misunderstanding.”
Debbie stopped mid-chew and stared at her roommate as if she’d just said the sky was plaid. “V, have you seen her? Nothing about her is innocent. Her eyelashes aren’t innocent. Her dress wasn’t innocent. And her boobs sure aren’t innocent.”
“Have you called him?”
“Why should I call him?” Debbie squawked. “He’s the one who was being all googly eyed with that… person. He should becalling me! He should be sending me flowers and apology notes and maybe leaving a sacrificial offering at my door!”
“Uhm… yeah. But how is he supposed to know that he’s supposed to be apologizing if he doesn’t even know you were there?”
“He should just know!” Debbie said, shoving another handful of emotional support chips into her mouth. “He should have sensed my psychic waves of betrayal from across the pool deck! That’s reasonable, right?”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Veronica took a long breath. “Okay. Fine. Forget talking to him.” She paused. “You know, you could always go out with Matt and Jeff. I’m sure they’re not being all googly eyed with a hot blonde actress.”
“How do you know that? They’re guys, aren’t they?”
Veronica shot her a look, as if it should be obvious. “Uhm, because I’ve met them.”
Debbie set down the bag of chips, and Veronica could practically hear the wheels spinning in her roommate’s mind. “You know, V, that’s actually a really good idea.”
“Forgetting about Tony and going out with Matt and Jeff?”
Debbie shook her head. “No. Dating Matt and Jeff to make Tony jealous.” Debbie began pacing the living room with a new fervor. “I can take photos of our dates and post them on Instagram, and tag Tony to make sure he sees them. Let’s see how he likes it when I’m out having a wonderfully sophisticated time with his friends! He can sit in his grimy motel room and wonder what I’m doing, and who I’m with, while he’s off frolicking with his plastic poolside princess!”
Veronica just stared. She had meant this as a way for Debbie to move on from Tony, not as Debbie’s new move in a chess gamethat only she seemed to be playing. But it was too late now; the wheels were in motion.
“This is perfect,” Debbie said, already grabbing the phone. “Which one do you think will make him more jealous? The boring accountant or the rabies-infested future lawyer?”
Chapter twenty-five
Women Things and Explosives
The cemetery was its usual whirlwind of semi-controlled chaos that afternoon. Carrie fetched a donut and coffee from the tailgate of Carl’s truck and headed to her trailer. Inside, she sat down on the futon that served as a couch and resumed reading Tony’s script with renewed interest. They’d spent almost the entire night at his motel batting around ideas for movies, and to her surprise, he not only took to her ideas, but came up with ways they could build on them. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected; and neither was he. It didn’t bother him that the ideas came from someone Hollywood had dismissed as a blonde, B-movie bimbo; he listened and seemed genuinely excited about fleshing them out into scripts. This slightly dorky writer from San Diego was someone she could actually enjoy being friends with.
Something small, furry, and gray suddenly skittered across the floor and under the futon. With a shriek, Carrie sprang to herfeet and leaped onto the futon. She looked down, but it had already disappeared into the wooden frame.
