A/N Great response for the last Logan chapter! You guys gave such awesome reviews, it made me a happy steenbean ;) Hope you like this one too…
Chapter 9
Mac
"Turn left on Harris Road in one mile."
Mac took a sip of her coffee, looking around to try and catch her bearings. She had never been in this part of town before. She was following the GPS blindly, which made her a little nervous. Sometimes, the stupid thing would lose its connection, and she'd find herself completely lost. For all of my mathematical skills, I have an awful sense of direction. But there was nothing around her except grass and stunted trees.
"Turn right on Church Street."
Mac steered her car right. Her palms were sweaty. She fiddled with the radio, but nothing seemed appropriate. She shut it off, aggravated.
"You have reached your destination."
She pulled her car into an empty gravel parking lot. She shut it off, but didn't get out. I don't want to do this. Why am I here? Mac took another sip of her coffee and leaned her head back. She took a few long, deep breaths, then opened her eyes again. Suddenly determined, she got out of her car and slammed the door. She didn't have far to walk. About thirty paces forward, and then just off to the left. Mac walked it quickly. When she arrived, she wasn't sure what to do.
"Hi, Cassidy," she said. He had a simple headstone, which was surprising, yet not. Suicides were a touchy subject when it came to most religions; the Casablancas' had seemed to understand that a mausoleum or an elaborate statue would have been frowned upon, in his case. Or maybe they just didn't care.
Mac noticed an empty Heineken bottle on the ground next to his headstone, and felt a rush of anger at the thought of random kids partying here. It's probably something fraternities make their pledges do on Rush Week. Spend a night at the psycho killer's grave. She picked it up off the ground, intending to throw it away on her way out.
She sat down cross-legged in the grass. "I was going to bring you flowers, but it didn't seem appropriate." Mac looked around, feeling self-conscious, but she was alone. She cleared her throat. "I hope that one day, I can forgive you. For what you did to all of those kids on the bus. For what you did to Veronica." She played with her shoelace. "For what you did to me. But I'm not there yet."
Mac leaned back onto her elbows and looked up at the sky. In movies, it's always raining when people go to cemeteries. Or at least, overcast and dreary. Here in Neptune, the sky is blue and the air is clear. As usual. She closed her eyes, trying to make her physical world match her emotional one. "But I do miss you, sometimes," she admitted in a whisper. "Which makes me feel a little sick to my stomach, to be honest."
After a moment, a small smile crossed her lips. "I had so much fun with you. Do you know you were the first boy I ever really, really liked? It felt so comfortable with you. And I really thought you liked me too. But I guess… I don't know. I don't know, now." When he told me how much he cared about me, he gave me such a sweet, nervous little smile… He stroked my hair, and the side of my face… and then he kissed me, once, on the lips.
And I believed him. I believed him, because he sounded so sincere. I believed him because I cared about him. But was it more like Dick said? Was I just his beard? Mac opened her eyes and sat up, staring angrily at Cassidy's grave. "I mean, was that all bullshit? All part of the act? What was real? What was fucking real?" She threw the bottle at his headstone without thinking, and it shattered noisily.
Mac was shocked by her action; she wasn't a violent person, and she didn't know what had compelled her to do that. She ripped a clump of grass out of the ground and let it fall through her fingers. Then she took a deep breath. "I saw your brother last night. I used to hate him. I used to think he was the reason that you got all screwed up. But now I'm not so sure. Who knows, maybe you were born that way."
She felt the hot, wet tears streaming down her face, and wiped them away angrily. "I swore I'd never cry for you. Fuck!" She let the tears come for a few minutes, let herself rock back and forth on the grass in front of his grave, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She sniffled and took a few deep, shaking sobs before she collected herself again.
"I had a slice at Dino's Pizza the other day. We never got to hit that one on Pizza Quest. You would have liked it. Nice, thin crust. Good sauce." Mac wiped her tears away with the arm of her sweatshirt. She felt incredibly calm, all of the sudden. All of her fury seemed to have vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Anyway. I think Dick misses you too, if that means anything." She stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans. "I don't know if I'll come back again."
Mac leaned forward and traced his carved name with the tip of her finger. Cassidy Casablancas. Beloved son; beloved brother.
Finally, in death, you got people to take you seriously.
Mac stroked the cool, smooth stone for a moment. So different from your warm, thick, chestnut hair. So different from your soft skin. But this is as close as anyone can get to you, now. Maybe as close as anyone could ever get to you. She stood up straight.
"Goodbye, Cassidy," she said aloud. "I really am trying to forgive you."
xxXxx
Mac felt scattered and gloomy as she drove away from the cemetery. When she almost ran a red light, she realized she'd better pay attention. Earlier that morning, Veronica and Piz had invited her to join them for lunch in the food court around noon. Mac had told them that she'd had an errand to run, and if she got back in time she'd meet them there.
When she'd left the cemetery, she'd had every intention of driving back to campus so she could join them. But as she got closer, she realized that she was in no mood to be around other people, even good friends. Instead of turning left towards campus, she made the snap decision to go right. Mac drove around aimlessly for a few minutes, until she decided to pull into the Barnes and Noble parking lot.
She walked into the store and took a deep breath. Something about the scent made her feel instantly more relaxed. Max reads everything on his computer, but I still like the way a book feels in my hands, the way it smells. She remembered that there was a gift she wanted to get and wandered over to the Young Adult section.
Mac took a few minutes to look at some of the old, familiar titles: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Anne of Green Gables, The Outsiders… She smiled as she remembered staying up until all hours, reading by flashlight, when she was younger. One of my first acts of rebellion. Wow, I was a real outlaw.
She grabbed the book she wanted; but instead of paying right away, she decided to head towards the graphic novel section to see if the new Astonishing X-Men was out yet. Before she got there, she almost knocked into someone standing in the aisle. "Sorry," she said, moving to skirt around him.
"No problem," he replied. He turned to look at her as she walked by. "Hey…Mac?"
Mac turned back around. She looked up to see a tall, attractive young man with dark brown hair. He was smiling expectantly at her.
"Casey?" she asked.
"Yeah. Wow, what are you doing here?" He laughed a little nervously, continuing before she could answer him. "I mean, obviously, you're at a bookstore, so…probably buying a book."
"Yeah. Crazy, I know," she replied. "I'm actually- a little surprised that you know who I am. We didn't exactly run in the same circles in high school."
"Of course I know who you are," he said with a smile.
"It was the blue hair, wasn't it?" she guessed.
"Well it did make you stand out. In a good way, though." Casey leaned against a book shelf; his fingers trailed vaguely along the row of books behind him. He gave another short laugh. "If you want to know the truth, I had a bit of a crush on you back then."
Mac just stared at him, both eyebrows raised. When she was a freshman, and he was a sophomore, she'd had the biggest crush on Casey Gant. She knew his class schedule, knew where his locker was, knew what days he had soccer practice… the crush had died down when she'd decided that he didn't know she existed. But Mac had continued to think he was one of the cutest guys in school, even up until he'd graduated.
"Wow," she finally said, immediately wishing she'd been able to come up with something better.
"I don't know why I never said anything to you; I guess you made me a little nervous," he admitted.
"I made you nervous?" she asked with disbelief.
"Well, yeah. You always seemed so confident. I don't know. You seemed different than the other girls I knew," he told her. "I probably did you a favor keeping quiet. I was kind of a jerk back then." He shrugged. "So what have you been up to?"
"I'm going to school at Hearst," she said. "How about you?"
"I was at NYU, but I'm taking the semester off to work for my family's company. Still trying to decide if I should finish. So, do you still keep in touch with anyone from high school?" he asked.
"Um, yeah. Me and Veronica are roommates. And, uh, I hung out with Dick and Logan last night, actually," she told him.
"You're kidding me? Wow, that's so weird. Dick just sent me a text message out of the blue, like, an hour ago. He said he's throwing a party next weekend, told me I should come. I didn't know you two were friends," Casey said, a note of surprise in his voice.
"We're not," Mac replied automatically. "I mean…" We're not friends…are we? I can't stand him. She stared at Casey blankly. But I did have a blast hanging out with those guys last night. I haven't laughed that hard in months. Mac had ended up staying at the Grand well past midnight, playing video games and goofing around with Dick and Logan. On the other hand, being around Dick had brought up a tidal wave of memories about his brother… Which is why I ended up at his grave this morning. "Well, really, I'm more Logan's friend," she amended.
Casey just nodded, unphased by her strange response. In one step, he moved across the aisle to stand next to her. He rested an elbow on the top of the book shelf that they were standing next to, and looked down at her. "So, do you think you're going to go to the party?"
The way Casey was looking at Mac was making her feel a little flustered, yet she couldn't seem to look away from him. His eyes seemed to lighten as she gazed back at him, going from brown to hazel. God he smells good. "Um, yeah, I was thinking about it."
"Good." He smiled warmly at her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. "Well, I have to get back to the office."
"On a Saturday? That's dedication," Mac said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
"Yeah, well, unfortunately it can't be helped. But, I'm glad I ran into you, Mac." He straightened up and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Hope I see you next weekend." Casey flashed her another smile and walked away.
Mac leaned against the stack of books behind her. Whew.
xxXxx
Despite being invited to a variety of places, Mac decided to spend that night alone. She felt totally drained after her strange afternoon. Nothing like running into your old high school crush to take your mind off your murderous ex-boyfriend. At least it worked for a little while, anyway. She lay in bed all night, reading about poor, doomed Lily Bart in The House of Mirth. It fit her mood perfectly.
Mac continued reading when she woke up in the morning, declining breakfast with Veronica and Wallace. She spoke to Max briefly when he called, then went back to her book. When Veronica got back from her shift at the library, she took one look at Mac and apparently decided that she needed to take action. She walked over to Mac, took the book out of her hands and pulled her up out of bed.
"No more moping, lady," Veronica commanded. "It's a beautiful day out, and we're going for a walk. C'mon, get dressed. I know just the place." She pointed to Mac's closet. "I'm giving you fifteen minutes."
Mac rolled her eyes, but she knew there was no arguing with Veronica when she got that look on her face. "Fine," she said grumpily.
A half hour later, Veronica and Mac strolled down Crescent Beach under a cloudless sky, eating ice cream. Another perfect day in Neptune. Seventy-five and sunny. Mac watched a little girl splashing in the waves. Every time a wave came in, her father would pick her up and she'd shriek with delight.
"Well?" Veronica asked her with a knowing smile.
"Okay," Mac admitted grudgingly. "This is helping a teeny bit."
Veronica put her arm around her friend and gave her a little squeeze. "Good," she said. "So do you want to talk about it? Is it Max?"
Mac shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe, a little bit." She took a bite of her ice cream. "He called me earlier. He calls me, like, twice a day."
"So he wants to get back together."
"Yeah. But the thing is, I don't know if I want to. I mean- It felt like we were so settled already, you know? Like, hey, it's Friday night. That means I'm going over to Max's to watch a movie, and eat pizza. And… aren't we too young to be that settled?" Mac asked. Before Veronica could answer, she continued, letting it all out at once. "When I tried to explain what I meant to him, he was like, 'So you want to do something different? Well, okay then, let's go out instead'." She threw up her hands. "So now, we're supposed to go out to a bar on Friday. But… that wasn't really what I meant. Do you know what I mean?"
Veronica took a bite of her ice cream before she answered. She looked thoughtful. "Well, I don't know," she said after a minute. "Sometimes it's really nice to just veg out with the person you love and do nothing." She stopped walking and looked at Mac. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe he's not the one you want to be watching movies with."
Mac stopped walking too and looked back at Veronica, a little surprised. "But we're so similar. I mean, we have so much in common. If he's not the right person for me, then how am I ever going to find someone that I'm compatible with?"
"I don't know," Veronica answered honestly. "But there is such a thing as being too similar. Maybe you should try dating someone who's different from you."
Mac laughed. "Like Casey Gant?" she asked.
"Um, well, kind of random, but sure. Why not?" Veronica replied, clearly confused.
"I ran into him at the bookstore yesterday," Mac explained.
"And there was sparkage?" Veronica asked, smiling. They continued walking down the beach.
Mac shrugged, embarrassed. "Maybe. It's hard to tell, with some guys. What do you think about him?"
"I think he's… a pretty nice guy, actually. But you know my track record with 09er guys," Veronica said. "I might not be the best person to give you advice on this one."
"So, do you know him at all?" Mac asked.
"Let's see… I know he can hacky-sack. I know he once sold his Porsche and gave the money to a hippie commune. And I know he's a multi-millionaire."
"Multi?" Mac asked nervously. "Like, how multi?"
"And here I thought the hippie commune was the surprising part," Veronica teased. "Well, his grandmother left him her publishing company when she died. At the time, it was worth about 80 million dollars."
Mac's jaw dropped. "All he said was that he worked for the 'family business'."
"So you just assumed mafia?" Veronica joked.
"I assumed, like, a car dealership."
"Well, at least you know he's modest," Veronica pointed out.
"Yeah, but… I don't know if I can hang out with him now. What could I possibly have in common with a multi-millionaire?"
Veronica laughed. "Um, what about Logan?"
Mac paused. "Huh. I kind of forget that he's loaded, sometimes."
"Really? I usually find he likes to lord it over us lower beings," Veronica said dryly. She took a small bite of ice cream and glanced over at her friend. "So… you hung out there on Friday, right?"
"Yeah," Mac answered slowly. With Veronica, she was never sure where the conversation would go. Especially when it comes to Logan.
"Did he happen to mention a girl named Heather?" Veronica asked.
"Heather? No…" Mac had to hide her smile with a cough. She'd suspected it for some time now, but her birthday party had confirmed it: Veronica was still completely in love with Logan. The signs didn't appear often, but when they did, Mac was sure she was right. Like now.
"No?" Veronica pressed. "Maybe she called, or maybe he texted her?"
"Honestly, I was there until after midnight, and there was no talk of a 'Heather'. Why do you ask?" Mac asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
Veronica bit her lip. "I was out with him a couple of days ago, on a case, and he got a phone call from this girl. I don't know, it sounded like it could be serious. I mean, like the two of them are dating. Anyway, he mentioned seeing her on Friday, so…I just figured I'd ask."
Mac was dying to just grab her friend and shake her. She wanted to tell her that she was out of her mind if she thought Logan spent even a second thinking about other women, let alone dating anyone else. Because she was equally positive that Logan was still madly in love with Veronica.
But I made a decision to stay neutral. Not to get involved. Besides, I'm pretty sure that Logan has a plan, and I don't want to step on his toes. Maybe this "Heather" is a part of that plan. I can totally see him making up a girl to make Veronica jealous.
"Honestly, I've never heard him mention her. But I'll keep my ears open," Mac promised.
"So you guys were working on your website?" Veronica asked.
"Not really," Mac admitted. "I mean, we tried, but Dick was there and he's kind of distracting." She laughed. "But I have to admit, he's pretty funny. Him and Logan together are like a comedy routine. Seriously, they should have their own reality show."
Veronica looked sideways at Mac. "You and Dick aren't…?"
"No! Oh, god no. I've only just recently moved from seething hatred to being able to tolerate his presence," Mac told her.
Veronica laughed. "Okay, my world suddenly makes sense again."
Mac took a deep breath and exhaled. She felt a lot better, now that she'd talked to Veronica about some of the stuff on her mind. Being by the beach was helping, too. She looked around her, suddenly appreciating how beautiful parts of Neptune really were. Up on a bluff, overlooking the ocean, sat a gorgeous grey house. It seemed to be made up of mostly stone and glass, and looked almost as though it blended into the hilltop. It was totally secluded. They must have an absolutely amazing view.
She pointed the house out to Veronica. "Hey, I wonder who lives there?" Mac laughed shortly. "Probably Casey Gant."
Veronica's eyes followed where Mac was pointing. She smiled, yet she looked almost sad, all of the sudden. "Yeah," Veronica said quietly. "I always liked that house." After a moment, she looked at Mac and smiled more brightly. "So… that's another unprompted Casey reference. Don't think I didn't notice."
Mac blushed. "Yeah, well… what can I say, he's cute."
"That he is," Veronica agreed.
"And, well, he's gonna be at that party I told you about. The one at Dick's parents house. You're coming, right?"
Veronica hesitated, and Mac considered for a minute before she pushed the issue farther. She really did want Veronica there, for moral support. On top of that, Logan had made Mac promise that she would bring Veronica to the party. But he was pretty drunk by that point; maybe he doesn't even remember asking me to do it…?
And maybe I'm not being completely neutral, here, after all. I told myself that I wouldn't get involved in whatever is going on between the two of them… Mac glanced over at Veronica, who was looking out at the ocean. Oh, who am I kidding? Logan knows exactly what he's doing. And so do I. Screw it.
Mac grabbed her friend's arm. "You have to. I need backup," she pleaded.
"You want Backup?" Veronica asked. "I'm sure he'd love a good party."
"Very funny. But as much as I love your dog, I need girl backup. Please?" Mac pouted at her.
"Okay, okay. I'll come," Veronica gave in, laughing.
"Good." So next weekend should be interesting. I'm going to my dead ex-boyfriend's house to flirt with my high school crush, in an attempt to distract me from my problems with my most recent ex-boyfriend. How did life get so freaking complicated?
xxXxx
Logan handed Mac her customary soy Chai latte in class the following Wednesday.
"Thanks," she said appreciatively. "But you know as well as I do that there isn't enough caffeine in the world to get us through this class."
Before she'd even sat down, Logan spoke up. "Well?" he asked expectantly.
"Well, what?" she returned. She was messing with him. Mac had missed class on Monday due to a flat tire; she knew Logan was waiting to hear if Veronica was coming to the party with her.
He made a face at her and reached for the latte. "I'll just take that back now."
"Yes!" she laughed, holding it out of his reach. "She's coming."
"Are you sure? Because when I mentioned it to her yesterday, she told me she didn't know yet," Logan said doubtfully.
"I'm sure," Mac told him. "I made her swear in blood."
"Well done," he said. He raised an eyebrow at her. "And will Piz be joining you?"
Mac could hear the disdain in his voice. Piz gets the same tone in his voice whenever Logan's name comes up. There's no love lost between those two, that's for sure. "Nope. He's going home for the weekend. I think it's his mom's birthday or something."
Logan didn't reply; but when she glanced over at him she saw that he was smiling. Yeah. He definitely has something up his sleeves. Mac considered asking him about Heather, curious if he really had made her up, but she quickly changed her mind. She couldn't think of any way to bring the girl up that wouldn't make it obvious that Veronica was the one who'd put her on the trail.
She took a sip of her latte, still watching Logan. "Hey," she asked curiously. "Why is it so important to you that Veronica come to this party?"
Logan's smile faded instantly. He shrugged, not looking at her. "It's just a kind of tough day for both of us. It'll be easier if we spend it together."
Lilly. Veronica mentioned it was the anniversary of her death. Well it makes sense Logan would want to spend it with the other person who knew her best. She nodded at him to show she understood. "So-" Mac began.
Before she could continue, Logan interrupted her. "Yes," he said, smirking. "Casey will be there."
Mac crossed her arms and glared at him. "I can't believe she told you. I'm gonna kill her."
"Don't say anything to her," Logan laughed. "You'll get me in trouble."
Mac made a face at him. "Oh, don't worry, she's the one who's in trouble."
"Seriously, don't even bring it up. I figured it out myself. Really," he insisted. "I knew something was up when she started asking me about Casey. He's not exactly her type."
"Oh, really Logan? And what exactly is her type?" she teased him.
"Please," he scoffed. "I think we both know the answer to that question." He raised his eyebrow at her cockily. But, when Mac looked at him more closely, she could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
xxXxx
When Mac and Max walked into Valentine's that Friday night, they both stood hesitantly at the door for a moment before they continued inside. Mac wasn't sure why Max didn't want to walk further into the bar. Maybe it's just his general anti-socialness. It's already packed in here. I, on the other hand, have a very good reason. She had noticed immediately that Bronson was there, working behind the bar.
The two of them eventually ventured into the bar. Mac sat down as casually as she could onto an empty barstool in a slightly dark corner. She hadn't seen Bronson since she'd broken up with him, and she had no idea what to expect.
"So," Max said, seating himself on the stool next to hers. "What's your poison?"
Mac shrugged. "Um, I don't know…" She was feeling very out of her element and suddenly wanted to get very drunk. "Tequila?" she suggested.
Max smiled warmly at her, and she wondered for a minute why she'd ever thought they should split up. She was relieved to see a different bartender, a blonde woman, come over to serve them their drinks. She and Max clinked glasses and downed their shots.
Max scooted in closer to her. "So… Have you given everything more thought?" he asked, looking at her intently.
Mac stared back at him; he looked so hopeful, and she didn't know what to say. The bartender came back and poured what was left in the shaker into their shot glasses, which ended up being another full shot for both of them. They drank their second shots; Mac could feel the warm liquid running down her throat, giving her courage. She turned back towards Max. "I have," she finally answered.
"And?" he asked.
"And… I don't know. I'm sorry. I still don't know," she told him honestly. "But I do feel like we're right to take it easy, for a little while."
Max nodded, and moved his stool back a couple of inches. It clearly wasn't the answer that he'd wanted. "Okay."
She watched him as he looked around the bar; at his own drink, at the TV mounted above them, at the pool table. Anywhere but at me. The silence grew more awkward by the minute, until Max finally spoke up again. "Hey," he said. "I have to go talk to that guy over there for a sec. He's the T.A. for Intro to Astronomy, and he's having a little moral dilemma about giving me certain information I need this semester. Are you okay here for a minute?"
"Uh, sure," Mac shrugged. As uncomfortable as things were between the two of them, she didn't really want him to leave. The place was crawling with guys, and she felt a little exposed being by herself. Especially with Bronson here. But Max just nodded, getting up quickly to talk to the T.A.
Mac put her jacket down on his empty bar stool, hoping that would deter any unwanted company. She decided to order a beer. While she waited for the bartender to get back, she checked her phone. She had a text message from Veronica.
Everything going ok?
She texted back, Not so much. Suspect will need more ice cream tomorrow.
"Mac?"
She looked up. Bronson. Of course, now you decide to venture over to this side of the bar. "Hey," she said as brightly as she could manage. "How are you?"
"Good. How are you?" he asked.
"Good," she replied, smile frozen in place. "So… you don't work at Goldfinger's anymore?"
He returned her smile, but his looked much more natural. "No, I do. Tuesday's and Thursday's. But I got a chance to work weekends here and had to grab it. This place is packed on the weekends." He laughed and gestured to the crowd. "As you can see."
"Oh," Mac replied. What a brilliant conversationalist I am.
"So, what can I get you?" he asked.
"Uh…Grolsch?" she asked.
He smiled again and quickly produced one from below the counter. When she handed him her money, he waved it away. "On me," he said.
"Hey, you don't have-" she began. But he winked at her and walked away, having a busy bar to take care of.
Mac took a few long gulps of her beer and glanced around the bar. Max was still talking to the T.A.; she could tell he was really pouring on the charm. When he spotted her looking at him, he walked over to her quickly.
"Hey," he said. "I think I might have to lose a game of pool to this guy before he agrees to work with me. I'm sorry; are you okay for a few minutes? I promise to do this as fast as I can."
Mac was a little annoyed; he was the one who'd asked her to come out, and he'd spent a total of about five minutes with her so far. But she just shrugged, not wanting to get into it with him in public. "Sure."
He squeezed her arm and took off back towards the pool table. Mac sighed and took another sip of her beer. What the hell am I doing here?
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Mac looked up, expecting to be witness to a drunk couple fighting. Instead, she saw Madison Sinclair, standing directly in front of her with her arms crossed.
"Um…" Mac replied. She had a million things she'd wanted to say to the girl, since she'd seen her over the summer, but her usually sharp mind had gone blank. Damn tequila.
Madison sat down next to her, sitting on top of Mac's jacket with no regard. She had obviously been drinking for a while. "So," she said, slurring a bit. "It's you. Or do I mean, it's me?" Madison downed her drink and set it down rather roughly onto the bar. She glared at Mac. "I guess you weren't lying, were you? My parents didn't deny it."
She stirred her drink while she studied Mac carefully, continuing in a slightly softer tone. "She looks just like you, you know?" Madison asked. "My mother. Your mother. And Lauren." Her eyes narrowed suddenly, and her voice got hard again. "But you know that already, since you've been meeting up with them every week."
Mac was speechless. How does she know that?
Madison waved a fifty dollar bill in the air, trying to get the bartenders attention. "Hello?" she said. Bronson caught the movement and came over to help her. "Vodka tonic, twist of lime," she ordered haughtily. Bronson glanced over at Mac with a questioning look as he poured Madison's drink. Mac shook her head slightly at him.
Madison waited until he'd served her and walked away before she continued talking. She took a sip out of the little black straw, staring at Mac as if she were something on the bottom of her shoe. "Every Thursday night, like clockwork. Pizza with Mac, over at the old Sinclair household. But not Friday's. No, never Friday's. Because Madison comes home on Friday's, and we wouldn't want to upset her." Madison took another sip of her drink. She rolled her eyes at Mac. "Lauren can't keep her mouth shut, you know."
So Lauren spilled the beans. It must be genetic. I couldn't keep my mouth shut either. "Madison-" she began.
Madison cut her off. "But your parents, or is it, my parents, don't want a thing to do with me." She laughed bitterly. "And why would they? They already have their perfect daughter."
Mac stared at Madison, still speechless. I didn't know she'd gotten in touch with Mom and Dad… Why didn't they say anything to me? And why don't they want to meet with her? She watched as Madison impatiently tapped her flawlessly manicured nails against the bar, clearly waiting for a response from her.
You're the perfect daughter, not me, she wanted to say. Look at you. But Mac didn't say it. Because she knew, deep down, that it wasn't true. Madison was right. She had been meeting the Sinclair's, every Thursday for the past three weeks. And it was clear to all of them that she fit right into their family…
It's the previous night, and Mac is walking up to a large, beige house, partially covered in ivy. She rings the doorbell, fiddling with the bow on the gift in her hand as she waits.
Lauren answers the door. Her birth sister is the spitting image of her when she was her age, and Mac still finds it a bit jarring when she sees her in person. She's a little taken aback by the similarities that they share in both looks and personality. But she's pleased that they have so much in common. It's a new experience for her.
Lauren smiles at her. "We told you to stop doing that, silly. Just come right in."
"Oh, right," Mac says. "Sorry." She follows Lauren into the foyer, and hangs up her jacket on the coat rack. "Hey, I got you something. Nothing big, just something I thought you might like." She hands her the package.
Lauren seems surprised. She grins at Mac and rips through the wrapping paper. "The Dark is Rising," she reads. "Thanks, that's awesome!" She gives Mac a hug.
"You're welcome," Mac says, genuinely touched by her response. "Have you ever read it?" she asks.
"No, but my friend Beth told me it was really good. It's perfect timing. I was gonna ask you if you had any more recommendations for me. I already read everything you suggested."
Mac loves that her sister is also such a bookworm. "Well I think you'll like that one. It's still one of my favorites. I read it every winter. You really have to use your imagination to picture all of the snow on the ground, living in Neptune," she laughs.
She follows Lauren into the dining room. There is an elegant dinner already set up on the table, complete with lit candles and a floral centerpiece. Margaret Sinclair greets her with a big smile and tells her that they're almost ready to eat.
Mac had been surprised to learn that the Sinclair's didn't employ any servants. Margaret had confided in Mac that she really enjoyed doing everything herself. Although she had her Master's degree, she didn't work. She didn't need to. When Mac had asked her if she missed working, she'd laughed. "Not at all! Besides, there's not a whole lot you can do with a degree in 20th Century American Literature. As I learned rather quickly."
She watches her birth mother now, as she moves comfortably around the kitchen. "No pizza tonight?" she asks.
"I thought we'd try something a little different tonight," Margaret replies. She leans closer to Mac and whispers. "John doesn't know it, but we're back on Weight Watchers."
Mac gives her a conspiratorial smile. "Aha."
"Mom, look what Mac brought me," Lauren speaks up, holding up the book.
"Oh, that's a great one. So thoughtful of you, Mac," Margaret says, squeezing her arm.
"Can I help you with anything?" Mac offers. She sees a look of surprise in Margaret's eye again; it's a look that she's noticed pretty often over the last few weeks, on all three of the Sinclair's faces. Mac knows why it's there. Madison never offers to help. Madison never puts her plate in the sink when she's done eating. Madison never brings them gifts out of the blue.
John Sinclair walks into the kitchen with a bottle of wine. "I brought up the Pinot Noir we got in Napa, is that okay?" he asks his wife. "The one from that organic vineyard?"
"Perfect, thank you," she replies, kissing him on the cheek. Mac watches them, wondering for the millionth time what her life would have been like if she'd grown up with them. Not that Mom and Dad aren't great parents. They are. They're just…different.
Her mom had cried when she'd first told them that she knew she wasn't their child. She had begged her not to have anything to do with the Sinclair's. Her dad had been shocked that she had found out. But Mac had patiently assured both of them that they would always be her parents, no matter what, and they seemed to be coming to terms with it.
John notices Mac standing there. "Mac," he says happily. "I didn't realize you'd arrived." He uncorks the wine. "How's business?" he asks.
Mac had told him that she had an online business, but she'd been way too embarrassed to tell him what it was. He hadn't pushed, but he'd often ask her questions about it, or about her classes. John was a computer programmer at Kane software. He'd been pleased to hear that Mac was following in his footsteps.
"It's going really well, actually," Mac says. "Our numbers are about five times higher than I initially projected."
"Excellent," he replies. He pours two glasses of Pinot and swirls one of them around. Noticing Mac watching him, he holds the glass out to her. "Would you like a taste?"
They always treat me like a grown up. And they talk to me like I'm an adult, who has valid opinions. Mac tried not to make comparisons between her parents and her birth parents; but sometimes, she couldn't help it. "Um, no thanks," she declines. "I'm not much of a wine person."
"It's an acquired taste," he agrees. "Speaking of…" John pulls open a drawer in one of the kitchen cabinets and takes out a white envelope. "You mentioned that you like Picasso. Some of his pieces are at the Neptune Art Museum, on loan from the Met. They're having a special exhibit; it opens next Saturday evening. I thought you might enjoy that." He hands her the envelope.
Mac opens it to see two tickets. She swallows a couple of times, trying to hide the sudden wave of emotion that has struck her. I can't believe how well they know me, after only three weeks. She pulls herself together and looks up at him. "Mr.- I mean, John. Thank you so much. Really, you didn't have to do that."
He smiles back at her. "It was my pleasure."
Mac turns to Lauren, who is looking on with interest. "So what do you say, you want to come with me?"
"Definitely," Lauren says enthusiastically. Mac sees that look again. She glances up at John, and then over at Margaret. They are all looking at her the same way. Surprised, and pleased, and a little bit proud...
Mac stared at Madison, wondering why this had happened to them. They were all innocent bystanders; none of them were to blame. Except for me, for telling Madison in the way I did. Without warning. It was so spiteful of me. She was genuinely sorry that she'd told Madison about their parents. And she was a little shocked by how upset the other girl was about it. I didn't think she was capable of human emotion. But she almost looks like she's about to cry…
Impulsively, she reached out to Madison. But the blonde girl recoiled as though she were trying to brand her with a hot poker. Madison stood up quickly and grabbed her drink off of the bar; a little bit spilled onto Mac's jacket. "Have fun trying to live my life- Madison." She said each word like a coil of barbed wire.
Mac stared at her as she walked away, stunned. Not by the venom in her voice, but by the raw pain she'd detected beneath. She watched as Madison stumbled into a tall, rather beefy looking man with a deep sunburn. He chuckled appreciatively and smacked her on her ass. Instead of slapping him, Madison just smiled at the man suggestively. Mac was slightly alarmed. The Madison that she knew from high school wouldn't have touched this guy with a ten foot pole. What do I do? If I go over there, she'll just make a scene.
"Hey. You're friends with that girl?"
Mac turned away and looked up to see Bronson standing in front of her again. "Friends? No," she corrected him. "She makes Regina George look like a saint."
Bronson looked confused, but laughed anyway. "Okay. I was gonna say… she's not the nicest person in the world."
Mac glanced back over at Madison, who was laughing loudly at something the beefcake had said. "Does she come in here a lot?" Mac asked him.
"Just for the last couple of months. But the last two weeks or so, she's been getting, just, annihilated. We had to call a cab for her last Friday," he told her. Bronson looked up and saw people waiting at the other end of the bar. "Sorry, duty calls." He walked over to help his customers.
Mac circled her finger absently around the rim of her beer bottle, thinking about what Bronson had just said. It sounded like Madison was spiraling out of control… And I'm the one who's responsible for that. She sighed heavily. I don't regret getting to know the Sinclair's better. That's the one good thing that's come out of this mess. They're kind of like a missing piece of my puzzle.
But this thing with Madison… I asked Veronica to look into my family- Madison didn't ask anyone. I lost my temper and just blurted it out to her. She took a sip of her beer and glanced back over at Madison. Beefcake was now rubbing his meaty hands up and down her back, and she was eating it up. Two of his friends had joined them, and she could see them looking Madison up and down.
Someone needs to keep an eye on this girl, make sure she doesn't do anything that could actually get her hurt. Suddenly, Mac had a crazy thought. I wonder if Veronica would let me borrow a listening device, of some sort? But even if she does, how would I bug her? Mac considered that for a minute, but she wasn't sure how to proceed. Well, hopefully these last few years hanging out with Veronica have rubbed off on me, and I'll be able to figure something out…
Max walked back over to her, then, interrupting her train of thought. "Sorry about that," he said. "It was worth it though. He agreed to help me out."
Mac just nodded. "Hey, can we get out of here?" she asked.
Max looked at her. "What? Why? You were the one who wanted to go out in the first place."
No, actually, I wasn't, she thought.
But Mac didn't correct him. She could tell that he was frustrated, but so was she. And I can't even explain about Madison. She hadn't told Max about her parents yet; she hadn't told anyone. Mac wasn't sure why she was being so secretive about it. It was kind of like being in a new relationship; she just wanted something that she could have all to herself.
When she didn't respond, Max rolled his eyes. "Well I wish you hadn't dragged me all the way out here. There was a James Bond marathon on TBS tonight. C'mon, let's go."
Mac got up off of her stool. She caught Bronson's eye and gave him a smile and a little wave. He waved back. She glanced over at Madison one more time. She was making out with the guy now, in the middle of the bar. His friends were making lewd gestures behind her back.
As she followed Max out the door, she made a promise to herself. I'm going to figure out a way to fix this. Somehow.
A/N Please tell me your thoughts on this. I got pretty sad and moody after I wrote that first scene with Mac in the cemetery. I had to take a break from writing for like two days. Poor Mac, I really feel for her. :( My boyfriend tells me I'm a "method" writer. Lol. Maybe that's true. I was in a great mood when I wrote that scene with Mac, Dick and Logan at the Grand last chapter… think I'd had a couple of margaritas ;) Anyway, please review!
