Page 101 of Out of the Gold

“No.”

She sighs. “Fine. I’ll meet you here in an hour.” She leaves me alone.

Without any interest in going out tonight, I shower and put on the hot pink dress Charles—Chase—bought for me in Positano. I’ll show that stupid Doctor Manipul8. I’m applying my lipstick when Sophia knocks. You can tell we’re besties, since she’s wearing her violet dress from Positano.

Filled with people from the movie, the club is packed. After getting our Cosmos, Sophia spies Thomas across the dance floor and passes me her drink. Alone, I watch as she approaches him. Mark materializes out of thin air and grabs her hand, twirling her around. He leads her two left-feet in a Latin rhythm.

Holding both drinks, I sip mine, alone, feelinghisdefection with every swallow. A couple of minutes later, Sophia rejoins me.

“Why aren’t you out there dancing? You were near Thomas.”

“Yeah, but Mark came up and then Thomas went off with Tina from makeup.” She reclaims her Cosmo and drinks it in one swallow.

I wrap my arm around her. “Stupid men.”

A new voice intrudes in our conversation. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I turn around and see Lindsay, holding a glass of what appears to be water. My entire body tenses.

She starts, “I wanted to talk with you. Both.”

Sophia and I exchange glances, then focus on our schoolgirl tormentor. Lindsay was as awful to Sophia as she was to me growing up.

I lift my chin. “I can’t imagine what you want to talk about.”

She tips her glass, leaving a sheen on her lips. “I bet you can’t. Listen, I’ve made a list of people to talk to. It must be serendipity because you’re both on it, and you’re here.”

Sophia’s hand lands on her hip. “Yay. Serendipity.”

Charles’s sister takes a deep breath. “Let me talk for five minutes without interrupting me, okay. This is hard.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

Sophia looks at her watch. “Fine. Start.”

Lindsay bends down and leaves her glass on a nearby table, then stands and rubs her right hand up and down her left arm. She clasps her hands in front of her. For someone who wanted to talk with us, she’s not saying a word.

Sophia prompts, “Four minutes, thirty seconds.”

Lindsay fists her right hand, and her knuckles turn white. “Well, I want to first apologize to both of you. I was a terrible child and I did awful things to you growing up. I am sorry. This is no excuse, but I’ve had some issues. Big ones. You see, I . . .” She plays with her dark brown hair. So like her brother’s.

“We all had problems,” I note.

Sophia rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure yours didn’t land you in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. And then in rehab for six months. Both, twice.” Her leg bounces. “Some people take a little longer to learn.”

Sophia’s eyes widen and I absorb her meaning. Neither one of us knew she was battling alcoholism.

“I’ve just finished a six-month stint in rehab in Switzerland. I have a sponsor, who’s really helped me. And I made a list of people to whom I owe apologies. You two were at the top of it. I am so very sorry for how I treated you growing up. I was wrong to say you were riding on your father’s coattails, Melody. I was wrong to insinuate you didn’t belong at our school because you were on scholarship, Sophia. You don’t have to accept my apologies, and I do understand if you don’t. I wanted you to know some background about me, and I feel awful about how I treated you back then.” She bows her head.

Well, shoot. She seems contrite. Doesn’t erase what she did to us, though. Sophia and I lock eyes, and my bestie starts, “Lindsay—”

Her head pops up.

“When did you start drinking?”

“I was ten. Charles—Chase—was drinking with his friends then, and I emulated him. Beer at first. Then vodka became my liquor of choice.”

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