Personally, I don’t like getting pissed off—it can make me lose control of my tear ducts—but this was pissing me off. “You’re wrong,” I told her. “You couldn’t be more wrong. It wouldn’t be any different if you were a dude. I still wouldn’t trust you. I mean, we don’t really know each other.”
“Okay,” she said. “Don’t pop a blood vessel. It just seems weird that you’re able to trust someone like Nash but not me. All of that aside, though, how about Audrey? How about putting some trust in her? Like you say, she’s your best friend. I’d think you would have more faith in her judgment.”
“I do, but—”
“But what? You don’t trust her when it comes to dating a girl? Forget about me. If you really want to smooth things out with her, you need to trust her to know what she wants from life.”
“How am I going to do that? She won’t even talk to me.”
“Well, she’s really mad at you right now. But what do you expect? Not only did you call her desperate, but you also made it sound like there was no way I could really love her. Getting past that is going to take time, so just try this—give her some space for a week or so. Then, when you see the police haven’t arrested my dad—or me—for anything and there’s nothing in the news about us, you can apologize.”
“I don’t see what I have to apologize for.”
She leaned back in her chair. “All I can say is if you don’t see that, then you’re probably going to lose the best friend you ever had.”
“I’d rather lose her that way than lose her to something worse.”
“And I’m worse—is that it?”
“I guess I’m just wondering why you never mentioned how that girl in California went missing from a park—just like Ashton Browning.”
Trix stared at me for a moment. “So you didn’t want to talk to me about Audrey at all, did you? You’re still playing detective. Well, if that’s how it is, then I don’t have anything else to say to you.” She unlooped her purse strap from the back of her chair and stood. “Except one last thing—that girl in California? My dad put up the reward to find her.”
Watching her walk away, I didn’t know what to think. None of the articles I’d read mentioned anything about who put up the money for the reward, but if what Trix said was true, I had to admit it made a good case for her father’s innocence. Unless he knew all along no one would ever find her alive.
After finishing my drink, I called the taxi service and went outside to wait for my ride. Nobody popped out of the shadows to stab me. I was pretty confused and not just about the deal with Trix’s father but also about how I’d handled things with Audrey. It was true—I had called her desperate. That was just the kind of thing that would really piss her off. Plus, she usually was a good judge of character, so there was a chance that maybe I should go ahead and trust her on this. But if she was wrong, I hated to think what might happen.
Saturday night was right around the corner. Then I’d have a chance to dig into the story about Trix and her dad a little deeper. I figured I could at least hold off on bugging Audrey about it anymore until I did that.
It took about twenty minutes for the cab to show up, and when it did, who was behind the wheel? Mr. Fartmaster, of course. He’s like, “Hey, buddy, we meet again. Need a ride?”
What could I do, tell him thanks but no thanks, you stink too much? No. So I climbed into the backseat and rode home with bad thoughts in my head and the fragrance of rotten eggs in my nose.
CHAPTER 33
The whole homophobe accusation boiled in my stomach for most of the evening, but when the anger cooled off, I started to wonder if maybe there was something to what Trix said after all. True, I never cared when Audrey just said she was g*y, but now that she had a chance to do something about it, did it really bother me? Was I prejudiced against Trix because of it?
No way. Not a chance. Maybe that’s how other kids Trix knew thought, but not me. Period. On the other hand, I had to admit it did rankle me that Audrey actually got a girlfriend before I did. If she and Trix started getting all romantic, hanging out, going to movies, showing up at stupid jazz concerts, where would that leave me? So, yes, maybe I was a little jealous. No one wants to get squeezed out. But that didn’t necessarily mean my judgment got all clouded when it came to Trix, did it?
So Saturday rolled around, and I must have tried on about six different T-shirts before I settled on my new Notorious B.I.G. shirt. I checked my look with the porkpie and without and finally decided to go without. Sure, I was a little anxious about my night at Gangland, but, as with most things these days, I didn’t let on to my parents.
I didn’t even tell them about Gangland, only that I was hanging out with my Hollister people. And I assured them this was not a date with the same imaginary girl I pretended to go out with before. They were happy I had some new friends, but that didn’t keep them from being suspicious. That’s how it was—my own parents acting like I wasn’t good enough to hang out with the Hollister crowd. I figured they’d see the truth one day, though. Everybody would.
About eight o’clock the doorbell rang, and unfortunately I couldn’t just slip out. I had to ask Nash and Brett in for the parental inspection. They were both real cool with my parents, making small talk and doling out compliments. Brett told my mom she really liked our house, and Mom giggled and goes, “Oh, it’s not much, but we call it home.” Pretty lame.