Lauren

May 2010

 

 

“Honey, I think you missed the turn,” Dr. Mulloy looked up from her phone and pointed behind us.

I pasted a smile on my face—that’s all I’d done this trip. Smile and nod. My cheeks were starting to hurt.

The last sixteen months of my life had gone about as well as could be expected. Monica had taken off in my car, leaving me stranded at a truck stop. I knew I couldn’t call Isaac or Josué—they’d given me strict instructions to take her directly to the shelter…do not pass go…do not collect $200. What could I say? “Hey guys, remember when you told me to absolutely not let Monica get close to me? Well, somewhere out of nowhere, I took her to a restaurant and she stole my car. Hilarious, right?”

I did call the police, for all the good it did me. Once the officer found out that the carjacker was my mother, he treated me like a suspect. He said they’d report it as stolen, but sixteen months later, the closest I’d gotten to my car was through the toll tag violations that came in the mail. Because, who had the time to worry about toll tags when driving a stolen vehicle?

I wasn’t going to pay the violations until I was informed that they could place a warrant out for my arrest, since the car was registered in my name. My arrest. The woman stole my car, yet I’d be the one going off to jail. It had all been so infuriating—the justice department was just as helpless as I was at stopping Monica. My only saving grace was the fact that I kept my car keys on a separate ring from my apartment and office keys; otherwise things would’ve been much worse.

I tapped the screen on Isaac’s car, hoping it would lead me to some form of GPS. I’d managed to keep the whole stolen car thing a secret for approximately one week. After that, Josué began asking questions and, on a particularly low night, the whole sordid story came out. In my defense, I had half a bottle of wine in me when he’d made the mistake of asking how things were going. I’d proudly told him that I was getting really good at riding the bus to and from work.

It hadn’t gone over well.

There was a lot of cursing. In both English and Spanish. Then, Isaac had gotten on the line to tell me that he’d have a car sent up within a couple of days. I was supposed to consider it a replacement, but in my mind, it was still Isaac’s car.

I normally only drove it to and from work; occasionally, I’d use it to go to the grocery store. But, this time I’d had to make an exception. Elizabeth was getting married. In Galveston.

I’d never been invited to a co-worker’s wedding. In all honesty, I’d never been invited to anyone’s wedding, minus Josué and Isaac’s, and that didn’t count as we were family.

Most of the girls at the dental office tolerated me on good days; not Elizabeth though. She was always friendly and warm toward me and I’d come to consider her a friend. And a friend’s wedding trumped everything.

Once Dr. Mulloy found out that I was going, she decided that it didn’t make sense for us to drive two vehicles down and insisted I take her. Thus began what I would always fondly remember as, ‘The Road Trip from Hell.’

The screen confirmed that I had just passed the hotel, so I moved into the left lane to turn around. “Good thing we’re on an island. We can’t ever get too lost.” I laughed so hard that I snorted, while Dr. Mulloy rolled her eyes and went back to her cell phone.

Killjoy.

There was something that had been nagging at me most of the nine and a half hour drive. Dr. Mulloy and I had worked closely together for the last three years and while, she made things more difficult than they needed to be most days, she chose to confide in me. That had to mean something.

“Hey, Doc. Would you consider us friends?”

She looked up from her phone and frowned. “Honey, call me Sandra when we’re not in the office. And no, we’re not friends. Christ, could you imagine a slave being friends with his master? God, why is the air so wet down here? Can we crank the air up? I’m melting.” She began messing with the various dials, while my stomach rolled in disgust.

Slave?

She saw me as her slave? Well, that certainly cleared up things for me. I was here as her driver this weekend—nothing more. The thought depressed me more than it should’ve. I knew Elizabeth would be busy with all the wedding preparations and I guess part of me imagined that Sandra and I would hang by the pool, sipping fruity drinks and swapping guy stories. Not that I had any, but I would’ve listened to hers.

We pulled up in front of the Gulfside Resort and Event Center and a man in uniform quickly rushed over to the car. “Right this way, madam. We’ll get your bags and park your car for you.”

Sandra joined me on the curb and watched amusedly as the bellhop effortlessly pulled our luggage from the trunk and onto the trolley. “So, did Brandon ever call you back?”

I frowned. “Brandon? Oh, right, the guy you set me up with last year. Uh, no. He did not ever call me back.”

She pursed her lips, while continuing to watch the man unload the car. “He’s a fool then. Who knows, Lauren—maybe we’ll both get lucky this weekend and find our Mr. Right.”

She bumped me with her hip and grinned and I nearly fell off the curb in shock.

See what I mean?

The woman was a complete conundrum.

 

I gave up on any thoughts of weekend romance about ten minutes after checking into my room. Sandra’s room was right next door and she insisted on opening the conjoining door between the two to make it feel like ‘one big hotel suite.’

Her idea of sharing a hotel suite had consisted of raiding the minibar in my room and trying on my clothes while I applied makeup in the bathroom. By the time we made it down to the beach for the ceremony, Dr. Mulloy was three sheets to the wind. “You look like a beautiful fairy,” she loudly whispered in my ear as we found our seats.

I patted her arm and looked around for help. I had not signed up for this; this was supposed to be a carefree weekend where I didn’t stress over my boss or the fact that my car was likely never going to be seen in one piece again.

Her hand shot out and grabbed my dress. “Why don’t you dress like this at work? You always look so boring.”

I pushed her hand away and slid to the far edge of my chair. “Because we have uniforms…that you picked. This would not be appropriate for work. Come on, let’s just watch the ceremony.”

I’m sure I looked unrecognizable—that had been the whole point. At work, my hair was always pulled up in a bun, so I wore it down. It fell in loose waves down my back, thanks to the humidity in the air; all I had to add were a couple of strappy headbands.

My dress was my favorite part of the whole look though. I’d found it online and, while it was shorter than I’d imagined, the emerald really brought out the color of my eyes. I’d added my graduation necklace to it. The spaghetti straps led into a soft v that was sexy, yet still somewhat modest and there was a tie at the waist, giving the illusion that it was two separate pieces. It felt like silk against my body and I briefly envisioned meeting someone at the reception who wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of me.

Dr. Mulloy, on the other hand, was not quite who I imagined. She’d chosen to wear a beaded carnation pink strapless gown with a matching blazer and appeared to be melting inside of it from the way the sweat was pouring off her forehead. She’d also worn her strappy heels, even though the invitation clearly stated that the ceremony would be on the beach and attendees were encouraged to wear flip flops. She sank down into the sand with every step she took.

Other than that, it had been a beautiful wedding—Elizabeth was gorgeous and David hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of her. They got engaged just a few months after dating; she said they both just knew.

I wanted a love just like that—you know, once I got my car back and reorganized my life. Basically, when I got a handle on all the adult shit I was supposed to be doing. Adult me would have matching towels and be able to cook like Martha Stewart, but would never let Monica con her into something stupid.

“You don’t know how to cook,” Sandra leaned in and shouted in my face.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered at her.

Using my chair for balance, she moved even closer to me. “You’re over there talking to yourself about meeting ‘the one’ and you said you’ll cook like Martha Stewart, but you don’t even know how to cook. That’s gonna be a problem.”

Shit.

I also had to work on my inner dialogue not coming out. Otherwise, I’d end up like her. After the ceremony ended, we made our way back across the beach toward the hotel for the reception. I tried scoping out any men who appeared single, but everyone was walking in one big group, so it was hard to get a good read.

Dr. Mulloy stumbled in the sand, but a pair of strong arms stopped her just before she fell. I looked up and my heart stuttered. Whiskey colored eyes met mine in amusement. “Drinking and sand don’t mix well, do they?”

My mouth went dry and I just shook my head.

He was perfect; dark hair and tanned skin. Doc must’ve thought so too because she was clinging to the front of his shirt as though he were a life preserver and she were a drowning victim. “Lauren, be a doll and grab me some water.”

Oh, no. Oh, hell no.

This guy was way too young for her. He was, however, just perfect for me. I’d find her some water…I’d find her a whole damn ocean.

“Nate! Nate!” The gorgeous matron-of-honor snapped her fingers and called over at us. “They’re about to start pictures.”

Sandra’s rescuer got her settled on her feet and backed up. The setting sunlight hit him just right and then I caught the glint from his wedding ring. “Well, looks like it’s show-time for me. You ladies both good?”

I nodded dumbly again, like a bobble-head doll, while Dr. Mulloy pouted and turned away as though he was no longer in front of us. “Why are all the hot ones either married or gay?” She complained, without waiting for him to move out of earshot.

I grabbed her by the arm, dragging her across the sand toward the hotel. “Stop. He could’ve heard you. And, no offense? But the guy had to have been at least a decade younger than you. If he was into anyone, it would’ve been me.”

She laughed until the corners of her eyes were crinkled up in amusement. “Oh, honey. You twenty-somethings always think that your age makes you more appealing to men. Most men, however, want the experience you can only get with an older woman. Also, mention my age again, and you’ll be looking for a new work experience come Monday. Are we clear?”

I nodded and she pushed off of me, carrying her sandy body to the elevators. I was going to need a lot of luck and a strong drink to make it out of this weekend alive.