'I thought you were asleep.'
'I was faking.'
'That was a mistake. Mom, look, I've had a terrible day, I just want to get dressed and go out to eat. Can you please, please, go out there and make friends with Latham?'
'I'll do my best, dear. I'm suddenly not up for conversation.'
I bit my lower lip, wondering how this could possibly get any worse.
Then I heard the front door open.
'Mary? I've got the plant.'
Alan. I hurried over, preparing myself for damage control. Latham eyed me as I walked up.
'I should have called.'
'I should have told you. We'll get through this. Be brave.' I pecked him on the cheek, but he didn't offer me anything in the way of nonverbal encouragement.
Alan had a large floor plant in his hands, something with long green pointy fronds. He set it down, smiled at me, then noticed Latham and the smile vanished.
'I didn't mean to barge in.'
'Alan, this is Latham Conger, my boyfriend. Latham, this is Alan Daniels, my ex-husband.'
Neither moved to shake hands, and I watched them size each other up. If they'd been dogs, I would have expected each of them to lift a leg and start marking territory.
'Hello, Alan! What a lovely fern!' Mom made a show of limping up to him and kissing him.
I glanced at Latham. He was staring at his watch.
'So.' I clapped my hands together and put on a big fake smile. 'Who's up for pizza?'
Chapter 28
The two slices of pizza I managed to choke down sat like rocks in my stomach. Neither Latham nor Alan had said more than ten words during dinner, having expended most of their energy trying to ignore each other.
That left my mother to dominate the conversation, and she was on her third drink, inhibitions falling away by the sip. She hadn't mentioned the kiss yet, but it was only a matter of time.
'Spicy.' Mom smacked her lips. 'When you get older, your tastebuds -- well -- don't taste. But a good bloody Mary with a healthy dose of hot sauce makes this tired old tongue dance a jitterbug. Plus it's so much fun to order a drink with my name in it.'
'Yeah,' I said. 'It's a hoot.'
'Are you in town long, Alan?' Latham asked.
'I'm here until Mary settles in.'
'So that's how long? A week? Two?'
'As long as it takes.'
Latham played with his drink straw, spearing at the ice.
'Don't you have a job you need to get back to?'
Alan folded his arms -- one of his defense postures.
'I'm a freelance writer. I'm not tied to an office job, stuck in that nine-to-five rut, making my employer rich from my efforts. But I'm sure it's not like that at all in the accounting world.'
'I don't mind nine-to-five. It pays the bills.'
'Boring, though, isn't it? Jack usually falls for creative types.'
'Maybe she realized how badly that's worked for her in the past, and decided she needed a change.'
I raised my hand. 'Does anyone want to hear about my day? The crazy guy I put behind bars threatened to kill me.'
I'd intended to provoke sympathy, but Latham took that as a cue to assert dominance. He put his arm around me, like we were drinking buddies.
'Stay at my place tonight, Jack.'
'Jack doesn't look too thrilled there, Latham. Maybe you've begun to bore her already.'
'Why don't you go run home and write about it?'
'Okay, guys. Enough.' I pulled away from Latham and stood up. 'You're all acting like jerks.' I glanced at my mom, to let her know I included her in the statement.
'I'll drive you home.' Latham stood up. So did Alan.
'I'll drive myself home.' I dug into my pocket, threw some bills on the table. Both Alan and Latham fell all over themselves, trying to give me my money back. I left them there, heading for the front door, stepping out into the cold Chicago night air.
Home wasn't an option. I needed time to think. A Checker cab was at the stoplight, and I yelled to it and climbed in.
'Where you headed?'
