Susan Elizabeth Phillips - Call Me Irresistible

“What do you mean, after you go?”

She swallowed. “Strangest thing, but Wynette’s lost its appeal. I’m taking off as soon as I talk to my parents. And aren’t you glad you don’t have to be around to witness that conversation?”

“I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”

“Why not?” She studied him, looking for some sign she might have missed. “What am I supposed to stay around for?”

He made an odd gesture of helplessness. “I—I don’t know. Just stay.”

The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes told her everything. “Can’t do it, pal. I—just can’t.”

It was strange to see Ted Beaudine look so vulnerable. She pressed her lips to the undamaged corner of his mouth and hurried to the car that her ever-thoughtful parents had left for her. As she drove away, she allowed herself one last glance in the rearview mirror.

He stood in the middle of the road, watching her leave. Behind him, the vast wasteland of the landfill extended as far as the eye could see.

Meg cleaned up in the bathroom at the Chevron station on the highway, wiping away the worst of the dirt and covering up her tear streaks. She dug into the suitcase she’d wedged into the small restroom for her boho top, a clean pair of jeans to hid the scratches on her legs, and a gauzy green scarf to conceal the beard burn on her neck. Since the first time they’d made love, she’d wanted him to be so overcome by passion that he’d lose his legendary control. It had finally happened, but not in the way she’d dreamed.

She let herself in through the service entrance at the inn. Birdie would never permit guests as famous as her parents to stay anywhere but the recently renamed Presidential Suite, and she climbed the back stairs to the top floor. Each step was an exercise in willpower. From the very beginning, she’d gotten it all wrong with Ted. She hadn’t believed he’d loved Lucy, but he’d loved her then, and he still loved her now. Meg was nothing more than his rebound girl, his temporary walk on the wild side.

She couldn’t let herself give in to the pain, not when she was about to face such an excruciating reunion with her parents. She couldn’t think about Ted, or her uncertain future, or the wreckage she’d be leaving behind when she drove away from Wynette.

Her mother answered the door of the suite. She still wore the tailored platinum tunic top and slim-legged pants she’d had on at the landfill. Ironically, her fashion model mother cared little about clothes, but she dutifully dressed in the exquisite outfits her brother Michel made for her.

In the background, Meg’s father stopped pacing. She gave them both an unsteady smile. “You could have told me you were coming.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” her father said dryly.

Her mother took her by the elbows, gave her a long, hard look, then pulled her close. As Meg sank into that familiar embrace, she forgot for a moment that she was a full-grown woman. If only her parents were clueless and demanding, her life would be a lot less guilt-ridden, and she wouldn’t have to expend so much energy pretending she didn’t care about their good opinion.

She felt her mother’s hand in her hair. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

She swallowed her tears. “I’ve been better, but considering that train wreck you witnessed, I can’t complain.”

Her father took over the embrace, squeezing her tight, then giving her a light smack on the rear, just as he’d done since she was a little girl.

“Tell us everything,” her mother said when he finally let her go. “How did you get tangled up with that awful man?”

“Dad’s fault,” Meg managed. “Spencer Skipjack is a celebrity worshiper, and I was the closest he could get to the mighty Jake.”

“You have no idea how much I want to rip that bastard apart,” the mighty Jake said.

That was a scary thought, considering her father was a Vietnam vet, and what he hadn’t learned in the Mekong Delta, he’d picked up making movies involving every form of weaponry from samurai swords to AK-47s.

Her mother made a vague gesture toward her state-of-the-art phone. “I’ve already started digging. I haven’t uncovered anything yet, but I will. A snake like that always leaves a slimy trail.”

Their anger didn’t surprise her, but where was their disappointment at having witnessed their oldest child once again at the center of a mess?

Her father returned to pacing the carpet. “He’s not going to get away with this.”

“It’s only a matter of time before his sins catch up with him,” her mother said.

They didn’t understand the implications of what they’d witnessed. They didn’t have a clue how important the golf resort was to the town or the part Meg had played in destroying that promise. All they’d seen was a slimeball insulting their beloved daughter, and a gallant younger man avenging her honor. Meg had been given a gift from heaven. Not even Dallie and Francesca seemed to have enlightened them on the drive back to the inn. If she got her parents out of town quickly enough, they’d never hear about the part she’d played in all of this.

And then she remembered the words she’d spoken to Haley . . . how you act in the next few minutes will dictate the person you’re going to be from now on.

Her circumstances were different from Haley’s, but the underlying truth remained the same. What kind of person did she want to be?

An odd sense of—not peace, because there’d be no peace for her, not for a very long time. More a sense of rightness came over her. The experiences of the past three months had torn away the fabrications she’d shrouded herself in. She’d been so convinced she could never live up to the accomplishments of the rest of her family that she hadn’t made a fair attempt at anything except nurturing her role as the family gadabout. If she’d ever risked building something for herself, she would also have risked failing in their eyes. By not risking anything, she couldn’t set herself up for failure. That’s what she’d believed, so that, in the end, she’d been left with nothing.

It was time she claimed the woman she wanted to be—a person willing to walk her own path in her own way without worrying how others judged her success or her failure, including those she loved. She needed to create her own vision of what she wanted her life to be and follow it to the end. She couldn’t do that by hiding.

“Here’s the thing . . .” she said. “What happened today . . . It’s a little more complicated than it might seem.”

“It seems pretty straightforward to me,” her father said. “The guy’s a pompous jerk.”

“True. Unfortunately, that’s not all he is . . .”

She told them everything, starting with the day she’d arrived. Halfway through her story, her father attacked the minibar, and a few minutes later, her mother joined him, but Meg kept going. She told them everything except how deeply she’d fallen in love with Ted. That was her story alone to sort out.

When she got to the end, she was standing by the window, her back to City Hall, while her parents sat side by side on the low couch. She made herself keep her chin up. “So you see, it’s because of me that Ted lost his temper for the only time in his adult life and got in that fight. It’s because of me that the town is going to lose millions of dollars of revenue and all those jobs.”

Her parents exchanged long looks, full of meaning to each other but incomprehensible to her. They’d always communicated like this. Maybe that’s why neither she nor her brothers were married. They wanted what their parents had and weren’t willing to settle for less.

Ironically, that’s what she’d started to believe she had with Ted. They’d gotten really good at reading each other’s minds. Too bad she hadn’t picked up on what she’d most needed to know about him. How much he loved Lucy.

Her father rose from the couch. “Let me get this straight . . . You kept Lucy from potentially destroying her life by marrying the wrong man. You supported yourself in a town full of nutty people hell-bent on making you the scapegoat for all their troubles. You weren’t really the activities coordinator at that country club, but you worked hard at the job you did have. And you also managed to start your own small business on the side. Do I have that right?”

Her mother lifted one magnificent eyebrow. “You’ve forgotten to mention how long she was able to hold off that perverted blowhard.”

“Yet she’s the one who’s apologizing?” Her father turned it into a question, and the Glitter Baby’s famous gold-flecked eyes bored into her daughter’s.

“For what, Meg?” she said. “Exactly what are you apologizing for?”

Their question left her speechless. Hadn’t they been listening?

The model and the movie star waited patiently for her response. A lock of blond hair curled along her mother’s cheek. Her father rubbed his hip, as if he were checking for one of the pearl-handled Colt revolvers he’d worn in his Bird Dog Caliber films. Meg started to respond. She even opened her mouth. But nothing came out because she couldn’t think of a good answer.

Her mother tossed her hair. “Obviously, these Texans have brainwashed you.”

They were right. The person she needed to apologize to was herself for not being wise enough to protect her heart.

“You can’t stay here,” her father said. “This isn’t a good place for you.”

In some ways, it had been a very good place, but she merely nodded. “My car’s already packed. I’m sorry to run out on you after you came all this way, but you’re right. I have to leave, and I’m going now.”

Her mother switched to her no-nonsense voice. “We want you to come home. Take some time to regroup.”

Her father slipped his arm around Meg’s shoulders. “We’ve missed you, baby.”

This was what she’d wanted since they’d kicked her out. A little security, a place to hole up while she sorted everything out. Her heart filled with love for them. “You’re the best. Both of you. But I have to do this on my own.”

They argued with her, but Meg held firm, and after an emotional farewell, she headed back down the rear stairs to her car. She had one more thing to do before she drove away.

The cars in the Roustabout parking lot overflowed onto the highway. Meg parked on the shoulder behind a Honda Civic. As she walked along the road, she didn’t bother searching for Ted’s Benz or his truck. She knew he wouldn’t be here, just as she knew everyone else would have gathered inside to hash over the afternoon’s catastrophe.

She took a deep breath and shoved the door open. The smell of fried food, beer, and barbeque rolled over her as she looked around. The big room was jammed. People stood along the walls, between tables, and in the hallway that led to the restrooms. Torie, Dex, and all the Travelers squeezed around a four-top. Kayla, her father, Zoey, and Birdie sat nearby. Meg didn’t see either Dallie or Francesca, although Skeet and some of the senior caddies leaned against the wall next to the video games, sipping beer.

It took a while before anyone in the crowd noticed her, and then it started to happen. Small pockets of silence that grew bigger as the seconds ticked by. They spread to the bar first, then encompassed the rest of the room until the only sounds were the clink of glassware and the voice of Carrie Underwood coming from the jukebox.

It would have been so much easier to slink away, but these past few months had taught her she wasn’t the loser she’d believed herself to be. She was smart, she knew how to work hard, and she finally had a plan, however shaky, for her future. So even though she’d started to feel dizzy, and the food smells were making her nauseated, she forced herself to walk over to Pete Laraman, who always gave her a five-dollar tip for the frozen Milky Ways she carried just for him. “May I borrow your chair?”

He relinquished his seat and even gave her a hand up, a gesture she suspected was motivated by curiosity, not courtesy. Someone pulled the plug on the jukebox, and Carrie broke off midsong. Standing on the chair might not have been her best idea because of her rubbery knees, but if she was going to do this, she had to do it right, and that meant everyone in the place needed to be able to see her.

She spoke into the silence. “I know you all hate me right now, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“You can get the hell out of here,” one of the bar rats shouted.

Torie shot to her feet. “Shut up, Leroy. Let her have her say.”