Pretty Little Pieces, page 21
She wipes the rest of her tears away, careful to keep her makeup in place. She should’ve known the last month was too good to be true. All the signs were there. The most terrible part is that she actually thought he was going to say he loved her in that deep, tense silence in the middle of the maze. She had no idea what she would’ve done if he had, but she had wanted him to, and that expectation made his announcement ten thousand times worse.
“What if I want to be something?”
She closes her eyes, remembering his question. Then you wouldn’t leave, she replies silently, then scolds herself. It’s unfair, and she knows it. She can’t ask him to give up a job he obviously wants for a woman he’s known for a month, especially when they’re so mismatched. Between his previous marriage, career, and the fact that he can pull up random ideas from Ecclesiastes, she feels totally out of her depth, and he probably feels the same way about her, even if he won’t admit it yet.
She exhales as the song changes to something slower and sadder, and her eyes drift to a stall wall scribbled with love notes and song lyrics mixed in with curse words and Bible verses. Thank goodness Cassidy told her now, or she would’ve spilled it all soon—the depths of her father’s abandonment, the baby she had to flush away, her barely-under-control anxiety. Little by little, she had been showing him what’s under the pretty exterior to see if he would run away or not, but now there’s no point.
The bathroom door creaks open, and she freezes as footsteps follow. She lowers her head to peek under the stall and sees Savannah’s chipped toenail polish and Birkenstocks.
“Georgie?”
She quickly grabs a wad of toilet paper and drags it across her tear-streaked face. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you crying?”
Georgina stiffens. “No.”
Savannah moves closer to the stall. “Yes, you are.”
“I’m just going to the bathroom, Sav—”
“You never use public bathrooms.”
“I had to go.”
“Open the door,” Savannah demands, but Georgina doesn’t. “Please,” she adds more gently.
“No, Sav, just leave me alone.”
“Is it Lance? Did he do something else?”
Georgina sighs tiredly. Clearly, Savannah’s not going to let her cry in peace. At least she sounds slightly sobered up. Georgina wouldn’t be able to deal with drunk Savannah right now. “No.”
“Is it your show? Did I screw it up?”
Surprise fills her. “What?”
“With the Adderall thing?”
Georgina’s confusion grows until she remembers their conversation earlier that day. She lit into Savannah about spilling her secret to Poppy, reminding her sister how terrible it could be for her brand if people knew she’d popped some pills to keep her life together, but Savannah swore no one was around. “No,” she repeats.
Savannah sighs with relief, which is a nice surprise since she only offered a bare-minimum apology earlier. A long silence passes. “Cassidy?”
Fresh tears fall as Savannah guesses correctly, and she feels the loss of her favorite lifeline all over again.
“Dang. That majorly sucks,” Savannah mutters after Georgina explains his announcement. “He seemed cool.”
Georgina finally flings open the stall door.
“I actually liked him,” Savannah continues. “Way more than Lance.”
Georgina’s mouth falls open. “You could’ve fooled literally everyone, Savannah,” she says shrilly as Savannah’s face turns sheepish. “You acted like he was the worst.”
“I know. Sorry. That was dumb.”
“It doesn’t matter now. You were right. He was just a distraction.”
“I was just being mean, Georgie.”
The honest statement stuns her speechless.
“I was mad that you were happy again.”
Georgina’s eyes widen. “Why?” Hurt follows. “Why would that make you mad?”
“Look, I know it was messed up.” Savannah’s eyes turn apologetic and defensive at the same time. “Obviously, I want you to be happy. I just . . .”
“What?”
“It was just nice feeling like I wasn’t totally alone for once,” she snaps, her eyes darkening with embarrassment. “You always get it together and you never need help, but for one hot minute, your life wasn’t totally perfect. And I wasn’t happy about that, but . . . it just made me feel better. Like I wasn’t totally falling behind—”
“I’m not perfect, Savannah,” Georgina interjects, moved by the defeated look on her sister’s face. “You of all people know that. And you’re not falling behind—”
“Yes, I am,” Savannah insists, ignoring her. “Don’t lie about it. It doesn’t make me feel better,” she adds. Her eyes darken before drifting to the scribbles on the wall. “I want to change, though. And I want to be me. At the same time.” She traces a tiny, Sharpie-drawn mountainscape with her fingertip. “But, like, can you even do that? I don’t know. . . .”
Her plea almost brings Georgina to tears again—because she understands. “You’re doing that, Sav,” she insists. Like Georgina, she’s still far from perfect, but she is changing. Georgina was just too consumed with her own life to notice until now. “Just don’t give up.”
“Stop it.” Savannah surprises her and rips off a piece of toilet paper as a rogue teardrop slides down Georgina’s cheek. “No more crying about stupid boys,” she adds gently, pulling her in for a hug. “You’re too good for that.”
16
“It kind of looks like blood. . . .”
Georgina frowns down at the canvas. That’s not what she was going for.
“It’s kind of cool, though,” Poppy adds, turning the color-streaked paper upside down. “Seeds, fruit, flowers, blood. There’s something deep in there for sure.”
Georgina stares at her test swatch, thinking fast. She thought her idea for nature-inspired art was brilliant at first—pressing flowers and berries and whatever else she could find in the orchard against a crisp white background and seeing what kind of colors they left behind. But now that she and Poppy are dripping in sweat and the results are subpar, she’s less enthused. There’s also the fun fact that Tarragonians won’t stop shooting off exceptionally loud fireworks in preparation for the Fourth of July on Friday.
“Are you ready yet?” Brigitte asks, antsy to shoot their signature scene. Georgina and Poppy always did at least one piece of pretty-but-easy-to-duplicate DIY art in their Nail Breakers renovations, so Georgina is planning on carrying on the tradition—if UpScale gives her the chance.
Her stomach churns as she remembers her meeting with Lance and their lawyers is only a week away. Seeing him face-to-face will be hard enough, but there’s also his super-secret pilot. Benson tried digging up some dirt, but, unlike her, Lance hasn’t suffered any “leaks.”
“Almost,” Georgina answers Brigitte, grabbing waxed paper to try a different technique.
“Five minutes,” she mutters, racing off to find Nathan.
Poppy watches as Georgina slips the paper over the flowers and uses a lighter touch with the hammer. “That one isn’t totally hideous,” she says encouragingly. “Oh, look, there’s Savannah and her new bestie.”
Georgina looks up to see Savannah and Julie Briar hurrying inside the cottage with fountain drinks in hand. Apparently, Sav found a fellow kindred spirit who can drink Cherry Coke at ten in the morning. “Better late than never,” she mutters as Savannah expertly dodges Brigitte.
“Sav as a big sister is the cutest thing ever,” Poppy adds, watching Julie scurry after her.
Georgina smiles. It is cute. Ever since Lila gave them a ride after Sawyer’s party on Saturday, Julie’s been Savannah’s almost-constant shadow, and it seems to have had a positive effect on both of them.
Georgina still winces as her mind travels back to that terrible night, once she and Savannah finally reemerged from the barn bathroom. Cassidy had offered to drive them back to the Harp House, but Lila Briar swooped in and saved the day, since she was already there to retrieve Julie.
“Hang out with your brother,” Lila had said to Cassidy, not realizing she just spared them all the most awkward ride of their lives.
Georgina caught his disappointment, but he forced out a polite good-bye and disappeared into the crowd again. She and Savannah slid into the back of Lila’s old Subaru as Julie went from silent and sullen to speaking so fast Georgina could barely keep track of her questions about Nail Breakers. Georgina felt bad that their first real conversation happened when she was so exhausted, but Savannah had picked up the social slack and secured a sidekick in the process.
“I’m still mad about the you-know-what, by the way,” Poppy whispers, pulling her back to the present. It’s a rare moment without Savannah around and no cameras. “Since when do we keep secrets? You know I wouldn’t have judged you—”
“It wasn’t you, Pop,” Georgina whispers back, feeling another rush of regret about the Adderall. “It was just . . . stupid. I was embarrassed.” The more she reflects on it, the more she cringes. Some people actually need that medication, and she had been taking it like it was shots of espresso.
“I could’ve given you some of my camu camu if you told me. That stuff saved my life.”
Georgina smiles weakly as Poppy goes on, familiar with her and Jared’s arsenal of crunchy home remedies. “I’m okay, Poppy,” she interjects, sensing the sweet concern underneath a long list of herbal supplements. “I promise.”
Poppy looks relieved, but her concern returns when Georgina lets a tired sigh slip out.
“Has Cassidy texted you yet?”
Georgina shakes her head, grateful and devastated at the same time. He did send a text on Saturday to ask if they made it to the Harp House okay. She had replied yes, then waited, anxiously watching the dots as he typed something else. It should’ve been at least a paragraph long, based on all the time it took, but the final message was painfully short.
I’m sorry.
“I’m just going to focus on myself,” Georgina announces when Poppy looks like she’s about to say more about Cassidy. Talking about it just dredges up the heartbreak all over again.
“And God?” Poppy asks gently.
Surprise fills Georgina. And annoyance. “Sure . . .” she finally says, even though her feelings toward God are pretty mixed at the moment.
“I just think focusing on yourself too much can make it worse sometimes,” Poppy adds, pressing her hammer against a sprig of purple passionflowers.
Georgina nods but secretly bristles, even though she knows she shouldn’t. Poppy loves her more than anyone she knows, aside from her mother and Savannah, and she’s just trying to help. But between losing the baby and Lance and now Cassidy, she has no idea why God would put those things in her life just to yank them away like this. Her already-fragile faith feels pulled up by the roots.
“God can get you through anything, Georgie.”
Georgina doesn’t respond. A lot of people say that, but where exactly is God in this mess? He’s not making it terribly obvious. Suddenly, a painful possibility pops into her head. Maybe Poppy’s wrong, and it doesn’t have anything to do with God at all—maybe it really is just about her. Maybe she’s not worth sticking around for.
“You just have to trust—”
“Let’s roll!”
Brigitte’s impatient voice drowns out Poppy’s as she returns with Nathan.
“Hey, y’all!” Georgina begins, forcing a bright smile once the red light on Nathan’s camera glows. “We’re focusing on natural elements with this renovation, so we turned to the great outdoors to create some unique art pieces.”
She mentally escapes for a bit as she and Poppy pound flowers and berries into abstract art, but Brigitte’s voice swiftly brings her back to reality when the scene ends.
“Your countertops are missing,” she announces flatly, glancing at her phone.
Georgina’s mouth falls open. “Which ones?”
“All of them. It’s fine, though. We needed more mishaps.”
Georgina scowls. Unlike Brigitte, she’s not happy about the fact that her beautiful sage-green slabs of quartz are lost on a truck somewhere.
“I want to get Georgina talking to Cassidy about it,” Brigitte continues, talking Nathan through her new artistic vision. “And then he can suggest an alternative—”
“I don’t think Cassidy is coming today,” Georgina interjects. She hasn’t asked for his help lately for obvious reasons.
Brigitte frowns and checks her watch, then glances up the road. “He’s here.”
Georgina’s stomach drops as her eyes follow Brigitte’s. Sure enough, his truck is slowly coming down the drive, followed by another truck with Eddy’s Range printed on the dusty exterior.
“Is there an issue?” Brigitte asks, noticing the troubled look on her face.
“Um . . .” Georgina avoids her eyes and zeroes in on the fanny pack instead. “No—”
“Good. Poppy, come with me,” Brigitte says, whisking her away to reshoot something.
Georgina refuses to greet Cassidy alone, so she walks to the cottage. They finally installed the new HVAC system, so it’s not miserably hot anymore, and the gross neglected-house smells have been replaced by fresh paint as Tom covers the kitchen in a pink sunlight-on-apples color Poppy picked out. It looks perfect with Sawyer’s custom cabinets. Georgina misses his silliness, as does the rest of the crew, but Savannah is taking his absence surprisingly well. Georgina showed her a picture he texted yesterday, of him grinning with his wife.
“They’re cute,” Sav had conceded with a small but sincere smile.
Speaking of Savannah, Georgina heads to the bedroom to check on her progress. Georgina made the risky decision to resurrect the mural project with only a few weeks to spare, but, thankfully, Savannah is working at a slightly faster pace this time. A mounted camera captures her slow but steady progress as she paints careful cascades of leaves and fruit and flowers dripping from the ceiling, with Julie circling around to add gold leaf to every few petals.
“No means of measure can define His limitless love. He’s enduringly strong. He’s entirely sincere. He’s eternally steadfast—”
S. M. Lockridge’s familiar voice competes with Tom’s classic rock station blaring in the kitchen as Georgina enters the room. Savannah and Julie don’t hear her come in.
“Savannah—”
“He supplies strength for the weak. He’s available for the tempted and the tried. He sympathizes and He saves. He strengthens and He sustains. He guards and He guides—”
Georgina reaches for Savannah’s phone and turns down the sermon, which finally catches her sister’s attention.
“What?” Savannah says with mild annoyance.
“This looks amazing.”
“Oh. Thanks,” she mutters, quickly refocusing on a half-formed piece of fruit, but Georgina is still in awe. It was already the most beautiful room in the house with a pear-green color on the ceiling and the warm wood floor, but Savannah’s mural is the showstopper.
“It really does,” Julie chimes in, her voice reaching an excited new pitch. “And I love the bed so much!” she adds, pointing at the elegant canopy bed. “Do the people get to keep all the furniture you pick out?”
“No.” That’s the question Georgina gets asked more than any other. “It’s just for staging. They can buy it if they want to, but most people use their own stuff once the show is over.”
“I knew it!” Julie says triumphantly. “I told my mom that there was no way they could afford it, even with their crazy budgets.”
Georgina smiles. “It’s actually not the money most of the time. A lot of people just like what they’re used to.”
“Well, if y’all did our house, I wouldn’t change a single thing,” Julie says with exhausting but adorable enthusiasm. “I like how you mix in old stuff with the new. I feel like Lance’s style is kind of cold. . . .”
Georgina nods but doesn’t say anything specific. Julie has prodded her about Lance ever-so-gently a few times since the car ride. “Yeah, we like a more eclectic feel—”
Bang!
Georgina freezes.
“What was that?” Savannah demands, almost falling off her ladder.
Georgina can’t speak. She’s still frozen in place. She’s used to all kinds of sounds on set, whether it’s hammers or buzzsaws or paint cans clattering, but that one was different.
Bang!
She shrieks in surprise when it goes off again, but this time she hears laughter in its wake. She forces herself to look out the window and search for the source.
She curses softly when she finds it. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
Cassidy is off in the distance, facing the trees with a giant gun on a table in front of him.
“He’s shooting a gun,” she mutters in disbelief. “A literal gun.” There are probably a million rules about firearm safety and licenses, but apparently none of that matters, not even to Brigitte, who’s watching the whole thing with Nathan by her side.
Georgina flies out of the house and stomps in that direction, followed closely by Julie and Savannah. The crew parts as she gets closer.
“Calm down, Rambo,” Cassidy says to a man she’s never seen before as the laughter continues.
“It’s for television,” the man retorts. He’s older than Cassidy, with an alarming number of tattoos, but his face is friendly. “You need something extra special.”
Georgina watches in horror as he clicks some other scary-looking thing onto the already-oversized gun.
“What are you doing?” she demands. Curious faces dart between her and Cassidy as he looks in her direction. Her heart races as his eyes meet hers. A familiar jolt of electricity passes between them, but she pretends not to notice. “Does this look like a gun range to you?”
