He stormed into his house, shoving the door open. JP stood in the living room with a chocolate covered strawberry hanging from his lips. “Shit! Sorry, I’m leaving. I’m checking them for poison. It’s a favor, really. Don’t kill me. You’re early. Wait. What’s wrong? Where’s Mickie?”
“Packing for her flight to California,” he said as he stomped past his brother.
“Wha—”
“Eat whatever the fuck you want.” He stomped into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer then started for his room.
“Keith!” JP called as Keith walked past his shell-shocked brother a second time. “Keith, wait. Talk to me. You hate vodka!”
He ignored JP’s shouts and trudged into his room, slamming the door behind him.
JP’s mumbled, “What the fuck?” came through the door, followed by a light knock.
Keith didn’t bother to respond. He yanked the cap off the vodka then took a long, burning drink of an alcohol he despised. The taste didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was forgetting this fucking day and numbing the excruciating pain.
After a few minutes, the sound of footsteps in the hall indicated JP’s departure.
Good. He wasn’t fit company for anyone but the frosty bottle in his hands.
Over the next few hours, his sibling’s voices appeared at his door, mostly whispering to each other but occasionally calling out to him.
He ignored it all. Besides lifting the bottle to his lips, all the had the energy for was staring at the white ceiling above his head and berating himself for falling in love.
And hours later, when his eyes finally blurred and he fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams were just as tortured with visions of Mickie as his waking hours had been.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“EXCUSE ME, SIR,” Mickie said as she sidled up to Ralph where he stood waiting for her outside the airport. As usual, his outfit was styled to perfection. Black jeans, a hot pink polo, and his favorite Gucci shoes. The warmth of California felt foreign after enduring the cold Vermont winter.
“Yes? Holy shit!” His eyes bugged and he covered his mouth as he laughed. Then he glanced around at the other people busting by. “I’m sorry, have we just traveled back to nineteen-eighty-five?”
“Shut up,” she muttered as she adjusted the straight-up eighties wig. “It was all I could find on short notice. No one recognized me in rural Vermont, but here I’m not willing to take the chance.”
The wig came from the costume section at a party store about an hour outside of where she lived. It was a penny copper color, had puffy bangs, and frizzy crimped hair. Paired with giant dark sunglasses and baggy clothes, no one would ever recognize her.
“Well, I don’t want you walking next to me because people know me here and I can’t have anyone thinking I did that to your hair,” he said with a horrified expression as he refused he hug.
“Missed your face,” she said grabbing him into a monster embrace despite his protests.
Squirming out of her arms, he gently shoved her away. “Oh, my God, get in the car before someone sees you like this.”
With a roll of her eyes, she handed him her suitcase and slipped into the passenger’s seat. “Happy?” she asked when he joined her.
Ralph snorted. “Hell, no. I’ll be happy when we get to my place and I can burn that furry animal on your head.”
Once they pulled onto the highway, Mickie removed her sunglasses and the wig, letting out a huge sigh. “Ahh, that feels so much better.”
“Looks better too.” Navigating the traffic with the ease of years of LA driving experience, Ralph gave her a side glance. “So, I kind of expected you’d be a weepy mess when I picked you up,” he said. “Are you faking this chill vibe?”
“A little bit,” Mickie said. She looked out the window at the familiar scenery she hadn’t seen in many months. “I’m compartmentalizing. If I think about what happened with Keith, I’ll turn into a blubbering idiot, so I’ve stuck that in the corner of my mind until I deal with the other matter first.”
Ralph looked at her like he didn’t believe a word of what she said. Smart man. His smartness came shining through again when he didn’t call her out on the lie. “The video?” he said as he took the exit to his condo. She’d explained the situation to him on the phone the previous night. Actually, she’d been in freak out mode and had sniveled and sobbed out the entire blackmail then break-up story.
Now, that the initial emotional reaction had passed and she had a few—very few—hours of sleep in her, she was able to process the entire situation with more of a rational head. “I used the flight to come up with a plan,” she said as she pulled out her phone. “Wanna hear what I’m thinking?”