Page 44 of So Much More
When we hang up, I decide I’m going to try to get in touch with Bobby. I have nothing to lose, because he already knows I’m a walking disaster.
He lives in Los Angeles, but when he’s in town, he stays at the Drake Hotel, where Diego Sanchez has also set up house in a massive suite. I call the hotel, and they won’t connect me to his room since I don’t know the room number, but the nice lady on the phone says she’ll get him a message to call me.
I decide to give Bobby a half hour to call me back, and then I’ll head out to do something to attempt to get my mind off Wendy. I hope she’ll give me a chance to explain, but I’ll understand if she doesn’t, and I know if she does and eventually forgives me, she probably won’t want to be with me anymore.
While I wait, I keep watching the western, trying and failing to get invested enough that I forget everything else. Instead I check the time every two minutes and then go take another aspirin since my hangover headache is still hanging on.
I’m about to head out the door when the phone rings.
It’s not Bobby.
“Randall Hamilton, what did you do to Wendy, and where in the world is she?” Leslie demands. There’s a lot of noise in the background, so I have no idea where she’s calling from.
I answer the most important part of her question first. “She’s with Melissa.”
“Good. I’m glad she doesn’t have to get through whatever you did to her on her own. Now, what did you do?”
“Ash didn’t tell you?”
“He wasn’t going to tell me anything, but it was obvious the second I saw him that something was wrong. I finally wore him down enough to admit you did something to hurt my best friend, but he won’t tell me what. Says that’s your responsibility. So spill before my time runs out on this pay phone. I don’t intend to waste another quarter on you.”
“I got drunk and kissed Tammy at the pub, and then I set my alarm wrong and missed breakfast with Wendy’s sister.”
“Are you kidding me?” she says. “You wouldn’t kiss your girlfriend, but then you went and kissed a waitress you barely know?”
“I was drunk,” I say feebly, as if that’s a viable excuse.
“You’re twenty-six years old. It’s time for you to stop getting drunk and start taking some responsibility for your life. I hope you didn’t screw things up between her and her sister, too, by not showing up in time.”
“The sister didn’t know if anyone was going to show up or not,” I reply.
“And you really think Wendy wouldn’t have gotten word to her if nobody was planning to meet her? She would have at least sent a message through her parents to let Andrea know she wasn’t ready to meet her yet. Instead that poor woman sat there waiting and wondering if anyone was going to come. Imagine her disappointment when nobody did.”
Now I feel worse, which I didn’t think was possible. “I’m sorry, okay? And I told Wendy I was sorry, but she didn’t want to hear my explanations.”
“Not that your explanations are worth hearing.”
I close my eyes. “Can you cut me some slack here?”
“No, I can’t. You don’t deserve it. Now, give me Melissa’s number so I can call and see how Wendy is.”
I give her the number, and she hangs up without saying goodbye. The phone immediately rings again. This time it’s Bobby.
“What are you doing for the next few hours?” I ask him.
“Nothing. I have dinner plans, but I’m free until then.”
“Want to play racquetball?” Hopefully the physical activity will help take my mind off my life.
“Sure. When and where?”
I give him the address of my gym and tell him to meet me there in thirty minutes.
* * *
“What are we really doing here?” Bobby asks while we’re taking a water break in between games.
“I needed to get my mind off Wendy.”
