Page 25 of Another Last Call
“So?” she pressed. “Who was he?”
I sighed. “A mistake.”
Annie’s voracious smile faded and she put down the head of lettuce, though not the large knife she had intended to chop it with. “Are you okay, Mags?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “He was just a bad decision. I’m nothurt. I’m just… hurt.”
“Hmm.” She eyed me carefully, then apparently decided I was telling the truth and picked up the lettuce again. “And what made you make this decision?”
“He was… nice,” I said.
“And hot,” Annie added.
“Yeah. But I can’t see myself with someone who complains that his lakefront palace is a piece of garbage because it doesn’t have heated hardwood floors and a hot tub.”
“Ah, there’s the bad part of the decision.” A gossipy smile spread across Annie’s face. “A tourist. I thought your mom’s rules were—”
“—always use a condom, don’t fuck tourists.” I blushed even as I grimaced. “Does it make it better if I was friends with him growing up?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really? What tourist were you friends with growing up?”
“Caleb Vaughan.”
“Thatwas Caleb?” she said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Wow. He certainly grew up.” She shook her head, then frowned. “He was complaining about his dad’s cabin?”
I nodded.
“That family seemed so down to earth.” She started chopping the lettuce again. “I can’t imagine he would’ve gotten along with you kids back in the day if he wasn’t.”
“Yeah, well, he’s delusional,” I said. “Or a liar.”
“How so?”
“He has no idea what it’s actually like to be… I don’t know. Poor.”
Annie looked at me warily. “You didn’t grow up poor, Maggie. Not like some.”
“I know, but I didn’t grow up well-off, either.” I folded my arms. “I’m not complaining. But I also never pretended like I was anything I wasn’t. He has this gorgeous cabin that’s nicer than any house I’ve ever even been in before and he spent the whole time complaining about how it wasn’t as good as the other lake houses.”
She tilted her back in a slow, knowing nod. “I see.”
“And he kept…ugh.” I leaned against the counter and looked up at the ceiling, yellowed with age and smoke and grease. “He kept telling me all the things he was going to improve, all the… the upgrades he wanted to make. You know, like putting in hardwood because linoleum makes everything look cheap, like he hadn’t just seen my kitchen with the scratched up lino from probably five decades ago. And then had the audacity to say that I looked like I was expecting more and apologized for disappointing me. Like I’d be shallow enough to think his fucking mansion wasn’t good enough.”
“Is it a palace or a mansion?” Annie asked.
“Huh?”
“You said it was a palace earlier.” She glanced at me as she kept shredding the lettuce, a sparkle of laughter in her eye. “That’s bigger than a mansion, usually.”
I pressed my lips together and stood up straight, but before I could walk away, Annie put down the knife and touched my arm.
“Mags, I understand why you’re insulted,” she said. “But I doubt he meant—”
“He made me think of my dad.”
