"Give it up, Lorenzo! You're
the only one left. The Leone family has been annihilated!"
"Usin' big words on me Tony
Tubs? Well fuck you. And fuck all of the Castellis!"
The explosion of rapid
gunfire did it. Pacey swore and opened his eyes wide enough to give the
offending television screen a scathing glare. What the hell was some cheap
bullshit dime-store pathetic excuse for a gangster movie doing on at six-thirty
in the morning? And moreover, why the hell was it so goddamn loud for
chrissake?
Grumbling, he threw off the
blanket covering him and after searching for the remote with no success, Pacey
leaped up, and turned it down manually. His rapid movement made him dizzy, and
he swayed a little on his feet. He had one mean bitch of a hangover.
Pacey sunk back down to the
couch and propping his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands. His
fuzzy mind was piecing together the events of the night before.
He had been missing Joey and
the kids. Melanie came over. Together, they got shit-faced. Although Pacey
didn't remember, what was said exactly after that, he did remember, with
embarrassing detail how much pain he'd been in, how hopelessly depressed he'd
been . . . and still was. He also remembered someone comforting him. Melanie.
She was a good friend to him and Pacey looked around, for the first time
realizing the she was gone.
No, not gone. Pacey watched
Melanie walk in, her hair wet, dressed in her wrinkled clothes from the night
before.
"'Morning. I hope you don't
mind I took a shower." Melanie informed him as she walked over and located her
sneakers. "Damn they're still wet." She muttered to herself, glaring at the
offending footwear and slipping them on.
"No. It's okay." Pacey
replied vaguely. Melanie's attention was focused on the screen. "I love this
movie." She muttered.
While Melanie was captivated
by the horrible movie filled with overdone stereotypes that would make "Godfather,
Part 3" look like Academy Awards material, Pacey absently studied her. She
was there for him last night and as embarrassing as it was for him, he had to
at least thank her.
So, hesitantly, Pacey did
so. "Hey, Mel." He said quietly. Melanie looked at him, beaming. Pacey gestured
to his surroundings. "Uh . . . thanks, y'know. For last night. I appreciate
it." Pacey paused and then broke into a charming smile. "So any time y'need a
favor," he said half-jokingly, "y'know who to call."
Melanie pulled her wet hair
into a ponytail, securing it with the ever-present elastic band around her
wrist. "Thanks . . ." She trailed off, lost in thought. She had to make sure
she was doing and saying the right thing. "Can we talk for a sec, Pace?" She
asked, turning off the television.
Pacey hoped she wasn't going
to say anything stupid. The fact that she really liked him wasn't exactly
confidential. He was extremely grateful for her comfort, but was in no mood to
go through an issue with her. Maybe it was selfish, but he'd had enough soul
bearing.
"Sure," Pacey said
guardedly. "Speak your mind, girl."
Melanie took a deep breath
and sunk down on the couch next to him. "Last night, I realized something," she
said carefully, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his. "I'm utterly and
stupidly in love with you Pacey."
Fuck! Pacey struggled to
keep his face expressionless as his mind raced, searching for the best way to
tell her he wasn't interested. Maybe, if there wasn't Joey . . . but there was.
And as long as she was around, no one could take him away from her. No one.
"Now," she continued, "I
know that you're totally in love with Joey, and as much it hurts me to say
this, you need to go back with her Pacey. After listening to you last night,
it's the best thing for you right now. No more excuses. And the only way I
can have you, is if you two are completely through, and you're not. Not at
all."
Pacey sat, staring at her,
absorbing what she'd said. Melanie was right; he and Joey weren't through. And
it was stupid of him to let their separation go on for so long.
"That's true." He said, a
new resolve building.
Melanie nodded. "I know I
am," she said, standing. "So I'm gonna go. I have to be at work in an hour."
Pacey got to his feet and
stared down into Melanie's turquoise eyes, which were shining with unshed
tears. He started to say he was sorry, but he stopped himself just in time.
What would he be apologizing for, the fact that she liked him? That would only
hurt her feelings more. What else, the fact that they couldn't be together?
Nope. He wasn't sorry at all. He wouldn't trade Joey for all of the stars in
the sky, all of the gold in Fort Knox, all of the oil in the Middle East, all
of the sand in the—
"I'm leaving now, Pacey."
Melanie said. He stopped her and gave her a hug.
"Thank you Melanie." He said
sincerely. Melanie hugged him back, a little tighter than necessary, because
although Pacey didn't know, this was good-bye. She wasn't about to hang around,
being his friend when she wanted so much more. Usually, she wasn't the type to
wait for something if she knew it was utterly unattainable. And she knew that
Joey wouldn't appreciate someone so obviously in love with her husband being in
their lives. And unless Pacey divorced her and came crawling back to her, she
wasn't going to keep on pursuing him. It wasn't right.
Melanie let him go a split
second before he released her. She looked into the blue eyes that she loved,
and fought back tears. "Good-bye, Pacey."
"See you later, Mel." Pacey
said distractedly. Melanie noted that his mind was already somewhere else, most
likely on a certain slender brunette with huge hazel doe eyes and full lips.
No, you won't see me later, Melanie thought as she turned
to let herself out of the house, her heart aching, willing him to call her back
and tell her made a big mistake and that he loved her; tears slipping down her
cheeks because she knew he wouldn't.
Pacey didn't notice
Melanie's sorrow.
Pacey was going to
get his life back.
He took a refreshing
shower and dressed quickly in khakis, sneakers, and a white cotton t-shirt. On
his way out his grabbed a Pop-Tart and a couple of aspirin to take care of his
hunger and his headache.
Determined, feeling
like his old self, Pacey drove to Bessie's. He knocked on their door hard, and
Alex answered. "Hey Uncle Pacey," he said, looking confused. "Aunt Joey ain't
here."
"Where did she go?"
Alex shrugged. "She was here. But she didn't come back after work. Mom and
Dad were talking about it earlier, but when me, Casey and Aliya came down for
breakfast they stopped."
"Where are they
now?"
Alex didn't know
exactly whom his uncle was talking about, so he told him where everyone was.
"Mom took the girls to school and went to work. And Dad just left for work."
"So who's taking you
to school?"
Alex gave him an
offended glare. "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, man? I take the bus. I ain't no baby. Whatchoo think this is?" He said
in his best 'I'm from tha streets bitch, fuck whatcha heard' voice.
"My fault." Pacey
mocked lightly, holding out his hands in a gesture of apology. "Listen. I'll
give you ten bucks if you help me find out where Joey is. She told me," he
added dishonestly, "but I forgot where it was before I could write it down."
Alex was smart, and
he knew that if Uncle Pacey wasn't lying outright to him, he was definitely
leaving a lot out. It didn't make any sense that his aunt went to Capeside for
two weeks, came back, stayed home one night, came to his house the next
morning, stayed for a while, and then took off again, without taking Casey and
Aliya, and without Uncle Pacey.
But, ten bucks was
ten bucks he didn't have, and surely his mom wouldn't mind if they looked
around her room. Pacey was family after all, looking for his wife. He wasn't
some stranger.
"Come on." Alex
said, waving him inside. "We can start in Mom's and Dad's room. I'll bet you
it's in there."
Without much effort,
Pacey hit pay dirt. On Bessie's nightstand, next to the cordless phone, was a
pad of paper with Bessie's handwriting. On the paper was hastily scrawled, "Joey.
Outlook Motel. Babylon, Long Is., room 107."
Long Island?
Wondering why the hell she was all the way out there, Pacey copied the
information on another piece of paper from the pad and tore it out. Pocketing
the information and taking out his wallet, Pacey slipped Alex a twenty, and
patted his shoulder gratefully.
"Thanks, man. Let's
keep this between us for now, okay?"
Alex shrugged,
already spending the money in his mind. "A'ight. Thanks for the cash." He said
easily. Yeah, there was definitely something up. But hey, it was none of his
business. It wasn't like his aunt and uncle were having any marriage trouble.
And if so, they'd bounce back. Those two were crazy in love, no one could come
between them, so what did Alex care?
Pacey immediately left,
declining the tempting offer of some leftover breakfast that Bodie'd cooked.
The farthest he'd been out in Long Island was to the mall, Roosevelt Field, in
Carle Place. And also Andie and her husband Peter's house, in Mineola. He had
no idea where Babylon was. But he knew he could find it. All he needed was the
exact address, and a quick call to information took care of that.
It took Pacey an
hour and a half to find it, and after pulling into a space in the parking lot,
Pacey turned off the car and sat for a moment. This was it. Joey would be
pissed because he'd come looking for her, but if he knew Joey, that is exactly
what she wanted. Deep down, she wanted him to go after her, just like how he
wanted her to come back to him when she left. And so he did it.
Pacey slid out of
the car and headed for an entrance. He made it to room 107 easily. The thin
beige carpeted hallways were empty save a housekeeper doing her rounds pretty
early. It was only nine-thirty or so. Figuring it was around the hotel's checkout
time, Pacey told himself to stop procrastinating and just lift his fist and hit
the door a few times. Not too hard because he didn't want to startle her awake
if she was still asleep, Pacey took a deep breath and knocked.
He waited. The
housekeeper moved closer, noticed a sign on the door she was in front of and
moved on. Pacey knocked again. The housekeeper got to the next door and noticed
the same sign. Pacey waited. At the next door, right next door to 107, she
knocked and yelled, "Housekeeping!" before using her master key on the door.
Exclamations were
heard. Fumbling apologies and backing away, she closed the door sharply. She
rummaged into her cart and plucked a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door.
Straightening, she looked at him inquisitively. He froze, not knowing what to
say. Dumbly moving aside, Pacey watched the housekeeper shoot him a funny look
and raise her hand to knock. He recovered his wits and stopped her before she
could do so.
"My wife is sleeping
and I locked myself out," Pacey improvised. "She's pregnant and very sick so I
don't want anyone to shock her out of her sleep. She really hates that. Can you
just knock very softly and kind of whisper 'housekeeping' or something?"
The housekeeper
stared blankly at him. Her gaze quickly turned arrogantly speculative, as if he
just mentioned that he was flying neon pink Hungry, Hungry Hippo to Saturn in a
few minutes. Before he could try to convince her of his story, she ignored him
and wordlessly unlocked the door, gestured him inside with an uninterested wave
before moving along. It was perfect. Not only would he avoid having Joey answer
the door with a scowl on her face, he didn't have to beg Joey to let him in if
she refused to talk to him.
Giving himself this
one last moment to collect himself, Pacey waited until the housekeeper turned
the corner before entering.
Joey was not having
the restful comfortable sleep she'd been hoping for. She stirred when she
thought she heard Pacey's voice, but remembering what he'd done, her sleep was
completely ruined.
"SONOFABITCH!"
Pacey's thunderous voice roared from the entrance, stressed by the fierce
slamming of the door. Joey snapped upright, shocked to see Pacey, a mix of
feelings rushed her. Briefly, she'd been flooded with happiness to see him,
exhilarated that he followed her, but that was completely overtaken with fury.
And at the same time, she felt a pang of fear. Pacey was in a murderous rage.
It was the first time she was afraid of him in her entire life.
"What?" Dawson's
sleepy, confused voice murmured beside her, rolling over on his back and
squinting his eyes in the sun's morning light.
Without another
word, Pacey launched at Dawson as he struggled to sit up.
"Pacey stop
it!" Joey ordered loudly. Pacey didn't seem to
hear her. He raised a fist and swung hard, his violent punch connecting
brutally with Dawson's face.
"Pacey!" Joey yelled. "Leave him alone you lying
bastard!"
"Motherfuckin'
two-faced cocksuckin' asshole!" Pacey shouted
furiously, barely hearing his enraged wife scream for him to stop, a loud crack sounding when another vicious blow connected with
Dawson's face. Dawson struggled with him feebly, unable to block another punch
to his unprotected jaw. He was in pain, and Pacey wasn't getting up.
"PACEY!" Joey
screamed, half-slapping, half-slamming her open hand squarely on to the side of
his face. She hit him hard and soundly, a solid smack resounding in the now
deathly-quiet room.
Pacey slowly turned
his head and regarded her frostily, the hatred in his eyes meeting the wrath in
hers. Slowly, Pacey slid off of Dawson, who cradled his bloody nose as his eyes
shot daggers at Pacey. He was furious, but he didn't dare say anything. And
even if he did, Pacey couldn't care less; his face was set in impenetrable
stone as he backed a few steps away from the bed.
"What the fuck is going on here?" He asked icily, his glittering
blue eyes raking over them in detestation.
"I hate you Pacey."
Joey expressed vehemently.
Pacey was unmoved.
"That much is obvious, toots."
"Fuck you." She
hissed, beyond furious with him. Gone was the heartbroken soul who cried an
ocean the night before; in her place was a blindly livid virago who was simply
too pissed to be upset.
"Fuck me?" Pacey queried bitterly, barely contained his anger.
"Oh no. Never again, lady. I'm gettin' the fuck outta here." He abruptly turned
and began storming out.
"Fine! I want a
divorce!" Joey shouted after him.
Pacey threw one last
sentence over his shoulder before leaving and slamming the door; filled with
such disgust and spite that Joey flinched. "Granted, Potter."
Joey knelt on the
bed, his parting words stinging her through her cloud of fury. Dawson's moan
forced her attention to him.
"You okay?" Joey
demanded, her fury forbidding her gentleness.
"I will be," Dawson
muttered. "Fucking bastard."
Adrenaline still
pumping through her veins, Joey sat there, trembling, unable to believe the
events that just transpired. How dare he walk in on them and start beating up
on Dawson. How dare he?
Telling herself to
do something constructive before she began punching the wall, Joey swung her
legs over the side of the bed. "I'll get you some ice." She told him shortly
over her shoulder. When she turned around, she caught sight of Pacey through
the vertical blinds. Upon seeing the cause of all of her troubles, Joey's anger
flared.
But nothing could
prepare Joey for the unexpected onslaught of unbearable pain and violent anger
that cut through her heart when she saw Pacey pause by his car, wrench
something off of his finger, and angrily throw it off somewhere in the parking
lot. It was his wedding ring.