Page 8 of Reckless Liar

“Bad day?” She chuckled as she watched me set the wine down.

“You’d never believe the day I had today,” I said.

She ran a finger over the rim of her oversized glass of Malbec. “I think you’re going to overexert yourself.”

“I swear, Scar. If I say I’m fine, I am,” I assured her. I’d already been given a lecture by both my parents, Xander. I even had my older brother talk to me, granted it was only a five-minute conversation on Father’s Day before he left early to head back to Seattle to hang out with his friends. Some compassion he had.

The worst of the guilt trips was from my best friend, though. Scarlett was worse than my mother some days, hovering over me, making sure I was eating, bringing me clothes from the boutique she owned with her mother. As much as I appreciated her help, it could be stifling.

“You know I’m worried, is all. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been surviving, Scar.”

“Avoiding your BFF, who can be there for you, isn’t surviving.”

“Scar, you can’t tell me how to grieve.”

“It’s been ten months. I’m not telling you how to grieve, I want to see you trying to.” Scarlett wiped at the corner of her lip, the blood red lipstick accenting her jet-black, chin-length hair and copper skin wonderfully. If I tried to wear lipstick that shade, it would look garish.

“Have you seen Dana?” I asked, changing the subject. The hotel Max’s mom worked at was down the street from Scarlett’s boutique.

She shook her head absentmindedly. “No, but I heard through the grapevine she got kicked out of the Skol House the other day. She started a fight with a bartender after they cut her off. She had to get picked up by Eloise, I guess.”

Dana was well known around town for her antics at the local bar, the Skol House. I’d picked her and Max up there several times over the years.

“Eloise doesn’t even have her license yet.” The guilt of leaving Eloise behind thrummed through me. With Max gone, who was making sure Eloise was eating? Did she have enough clothes? Was she going to school when she was supposed to? “I should go see her. I can’t believe she didn’t mention that her mom was making her drive around.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you.” She raised her hands over the top of her head, her arms a V-ing out. “You don’t need to be there for them, you know.”

“I should’ve been there to support his family,” I whispered.

She scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. “Fuck, Ana.” Her hands came down at her sides with a whack. “You’re killing me here. You need to forget Dana.”

“What about Eloise?”

Scarlett frowned as she considered me. “Eloise is tougher than you think, and you were not her mother, Ana. Max was not her father. It’s not your responsibility to take care of her.”

“She’s the only family Max had,” I reminded her.

Scarlett grabbed her clutch from under her arm, snapping it open and then snapping it shut several times. “I don’t want to fight with you, Ana.” She opened her clutch one more time, pulling out her red lip gloss. “I’m saying you did more for Max than his mother. You and Xander both. You’re the ones who should be grieving, not paying for the funeral in the background.”

In my fist, I dug my nails into the flesh center of my palm, alternating which nail to press hardest until I could feel the half-moon indents on my skin.

She grabbed the bottom of her dark chin-length bob. “I need you to take care of yourself. And if you can’t, let me know so I can take care of you.”

My body felt heavy as I nodded at her. “I understand.”

“Do you want to have a sleepover at my place? You know you can stay with me as long as you need to.”

“I thought you were going out with Aspen later? I’d be in the way.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ana, you are more important than some random I’m dating. If you want to stay with me, you can.”

“I...” I closed my eyes and focused on my shaking hands, the tremors running through my fingers. “I can’t, Scarlett.”

She stared at me for a few moments. Then she seemed to decide it was a conversation that wasn’t going anywhere.

I could tell she disagreed, but thankfully, she let it go. “Tell me about your bad day.”

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