“Nope. It’s true. Is she a friend of yours?” Sandy had sent me a quick picture of a very drunk woman sprawled out on the floor next to a broken picture.
“Fuck.” Lucas ran his hands through his hair.
r /> “We better get up there.” I insisted.
He nodded his head, took my hand and led the way. But before we stepped into the kitchen with all of his friends around he let go of my hand and walked ahead of me. I didn't see the symbolism until quite sometime later.
The party is in full swing and it is obvious that practically no one even noticed the host was missing. I looked at my phone and realized we were only gone about half an hour. After all the excitement I was sure it was longer than that. But I followed Lucas as he stomped, pushing his way through his guests to the spot that was in the picture on my phone.
“Tilly!” Sandy yelled and waved. She was still with Sean and Timmy when I jogged up to her. “Where’ve you been?”
“I hope you weren’t worried.”
“No. I figured you’d text me if there was anything bad happening. What have you been up to?”
“I’ll tell you later?”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I said I’ll tell you later.”
“There’s no time like the present?” Sandy insisted.
I gave her my best motherly “don’t push it” look that my mother had so perfectly mastered. It worked for the time being.”
“So what happened up here and who wants to beat me up? Do you happen to know why this person wants to beat me up?”
Sandy was shaking her head, her long blond hair waving back and forth.
Without saying a word she pointed to a picture that was smashed, the frame cracked apart and completely ruined while the canvas the peaceful scenery was painted on was ripped.
"Please tell me you didn't do that," I mumbled to Sandy without moving my lips.
“Me? I’m not that bold. Nope. That little weirdo over there did it. The one Lucas is hovering over.” Sandy looked at my face. “She’s the one who wants to beat you up. She says she can kick your ass.”
I shook my head.
“Do I even know her?”
“Monica Smith? Lucas’s on again, off again girlfriend? Yeah, you know her. You just don’t recognizer with her make-up not perfect.”
I snapped my fingers.
“Oh, yeah. Why does she want to beat me up?” I wasn’t sure unless word of my backseat tryst with Lucas had already made the primetime.
“Well, probably because she’s drunk and you look prettier than her.”
I shook my head. The whole idea that a girl like Monica Smith could ever be jealous of me was as ludicrous as my trying out for the Chicago Bears and expecting to get hired.
But I couldn’t help but watch how Lucas was tending to her. She had just damaged what looked like a really nice picture. The frame alone had to cost a couple hundred dollars and mounting canvases like that isn’t cheap. Not to mention the damage to the painting itself.
Yet, Lucas was speaking to her quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear and asking her something to which she nodded, looking up at him with pouty eyes and trembling lips. He took her by the hand. I swear before they left the room she looked at me and that scared, helpless look slipped right off. She glared hatefully at me.
“Did you see that?” I asked Sandy.
“Sure did.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken one word to that girl. What the hell is she looking at me that way for?”