Catch You If You Fall (Burnouts Book 2) Read online

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  Having missed the fall semester, MG started Moreland College in January, 2001. She and her mom rented a small U-Haul truck and moved her into her dorm room three days before the start of the spring semester.

  Her roommate wasn’t there so MG surveyed her stuff for clues about the girl she would be living with. The dry erase board on the door had a single message, “C U in Jan.” and was signed “Lexi.” It hung below the new paper sign proclaiming that Mary Grace Ulrich lived here along with Alexis Cooper. MG tore off her half of the paper name plate. No need getting people started calling her Mary Grace.

  Half the room inside was decorated with posters of musicians, most of whom MG had never seen before, but there was one common theme, violins. Music and violins seemed to be the general theme of the left side of the room. With only three framed photos on her shelf, it was easy for MG to pick out the common denominator, the very tall, thin girl with dark hair and glasses had to be Lexi. She pegged her bedspread and sheets as Bed Bath & Beyond. All evidence pointed to Lexi being a scholarship. Randy had told her that there would be a bunch of kids here who were not from wealthy families but had scholarships to pay their way. This might work. Maybe she would connect with Bed Bath & Beyond girl.

  It took her and her mom less than an hour to get all her stuff moved in, her bed made, and her wall art hung. On the little shelf above her desk she put one framed picture of her and her mom at the beach on a trip they took to Miami and one of her and Carrie by the pool at her St. Louis house. Her mom handed her a small stack of unframed photos.

  “I found these in a box of my stuff. Maybe you can find a frame for some of them too.”

  They were photos Carrie had taken of their group of friends from high school. She studied the picture of all of them piled into Ben’s jeep, the night they went to the drive-in and were attacked by killer mosquitoes. Ben, who hated to have his picture taken, looked as cute as ever but uncomfortable, standing on the back seat, leaning on the roll bar. Gina and Casey stood on either side of him, probably grabbing his ass to make him blush while Carrie took the picture. MG was on Steve’s shoulders next to the jeep so she could be as tall as everyone standing on the back seat. She focused in on herself and Steve–two but one. It seemed like they were always connected, somehow … except right after he told her he loved her. He had scared the shit out of her (probably because she felt it too) but she couldn’t let herself give in to those feelings. It was crap logic to anyone but her, but she loved him too much to allow herself to admit it. Giving in meant staying in St. Louis, probably getting pregnant (because she never could keep her hands off him) and starting a life that included a steep, uphill climb out of government housing. That was her mom’s life. It would not be hers.

  There was no way to explain it to him and not hurt him, so she avoided him, for a while at least. Then like two parts of a magnet they gravitated back together and connected. It sucked and it hurt that they had no future together, that she had to leave him behind, but those were the hard choices she had to make. She set the picture, along with the others, on the shelf, behind the framed ones. She didn’t need to focus on who and what she had left behind. She needed to focus on now and Moreland and new friends, like maybe Lexi Cooper.

  Chapter 7

  Or maybe not Lexi Cooper. MG and her roommate didn’t have the best start.

  Lexi arrived early the day before classes were to start, and it seemed like she talked non-stop until MG escaped to her classes the next morning. When she wasn’t peppering MG with personal questions about her past or wanting to know where MG had bought all her cool decorations, she was offering way too much information about her own life, her major, and everyone who lived on their floor. Donning headsets didn’t stop her. Pretending to sleep didn’t help. Even when MG left to go to the bathroom down the hall, Lexi only paused then continued exactly where she left off when MG got back. No wonder half the room had been open midyear.

  It was freakishly freezing, but beautifully quiet, when MG made her way from the freshman dorm to her first class. There had been a small ice storm overnight, so her feet crunched the thin layer of ice on the grass. An artic wind blew and stung her face, and the trees made a tinkling sound and rained shiny shards on her as she passed. Her feet were toasty warm in her new UGGs (real ones) and she almost felt like skipping. This was finally her chance to get in with the in crowd. She would be in class with the same people she saw pictured every week in Avenue, The New Yorker, or even Vogue. She so wanted to be in one of those photos, hot rich date on one side of her and debutante best friend on the other, going into a club to hang with celebs and models. She had spent the past year and a half standing on the outside, trying to figure out how to get in, and now, here she was.

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  Most of her classes first semester were general ed. She had Western Civ and Freshman Comp in small auditoriums, where she liked the idea of hiding out in the back for prime people watching. She recognized one or two girls from her dorm floor and chuckled to herself at all the too-personal information Lexi had given her on them. Prada-purse girl from the café was also in Western Civ. She was starting to get an idea of just how small this school was, considering she recognized three people and she had only been there three days.

  The class she looked forward to the most was Music Theory. There were music classes in high school, but they were pretty much for the band kids, so she never thought about taking one before. She entered the small classroom through the back door hoping for a seat in the back row. They were all filled so she had to go with the third row from the back. She slid into her seat and discretely looked around. There was only one studious looking guy sitting in the second row so it was hard to check out everyone else without turning around. Luckily, the professor took care of that problem.

  He started the class with, “Would everyone sitting in the last two rows please move forward. We’re next to a practice room, and I don’t want to have to shout to be heard.”

  Dutifully, students picked up their backpacks and moved forward filling the two rows in front of MG. Whoever was right behind her moved quickly to take a seat next to her in the third row ignoring the instructions and the open seat in front of her. A rebel. She had to check this kid out.

  The prof passed syllabi to the first person in each row with instructions to pass them down the row. MG took one and smiled as she handed the stack to the hot guy now sitting next to her. He had medium blond hair, almost the same color as hers, and just as messy, matching freshly-fucked hair. Sweet! He turned to look at her with brown puppy-dog eyes and smiled back as he took the stack from her. As he turned his head to pass the papers along she caught a glimpse of a black earring in his ear. She hid her libido-induced smile by pretending to be reading. Deb dudes didn’t do earrings, especially not black spiky ones. He might not get her in Avenue magazine, but he had definite friends-with-benefits potential.

  “Please turn to the last page of the syllabus where you will find a survey. I would like to know your background in music. If you play an instrument, please list that here. If you sing, please list that and the type of music you sing. If you have no background in music, you can just leave it blank.” The professor sat on the front edge of his desk. “Be sure to put your name on the top line and bring them to me when you are finished.”

  Everyone started writing. MG glanced around and didn’t see anyone else leaving theirs blank. She debated. It would be hard to lie about an instrument but there was that one time she got up and tried to sing with Chuck’s basement band in high school. Between her alcohol-induced giggle fit and their inability to play an entire song it didn’t last long, but it would have to do. She wrote “singer--rock music” then wrote her name at the top.

  The rebel next to her was blatantly reading her paper. She hid it under her hand and mock glared at him. He held his up to share–“Josh Hagan, drums”. That earned him a sideways smile. She was about to stand and take her paper to the professor when Josh
stood, picked up hers, and took both of theirs to the front. He sat back down and there was an awkward silence, as the others seemed to be taking a long time. How many instruments do they all play? She worried she was in way over her head in this class. When the kid next to Josh pushed past her with his paper, she saw only one instrument listed, and she got it. They were all adept at playing the “waste time on simple shit” game. This was definitely going to be her favorite class.

  When class ended she was torn between blatant flirting with Josh or playing it cool. Two guys from the front row approached him before she had a chance to make up her mind so she went with option number two. She was half-way down the hall when he caught up with her. “MG, right?”

  She slowed so he could walk with her and tried to hide her smile. Even if he wasn’t going to play it cool, she was. “Right.”

  He looked at her like he was waiting for her to say more. “You gonna tell me what that stands for?”

  “Nope.”

  “I have ways of finding out?” He challenged her with his eyes, staring down at her.

  She shrugged him off but noted how much she liked how tall he was. She always had a thing for tall guys. Course it helped that she was only 5’4”.

  “So what are you, CIA?”

  “A little closer to mafia, actually.” He downplayed the comment with a smile that said that he had secrets too.

  She tried to suppress her goofy smile. “Should I be afraid of you?”

  “Maybe.” And he winked at her.

  He was totally cheezy and totally fun. She needed to change the conversation before she embarrassed herself by asking him out. “Did you play drums in your school band?”

  He looked a little embarrassed. “Junior high and freshman year, yeah, I was a band geek; then I found a few guys and formed a band that played parties around Vegas.”

  “Your band played in Vegas?” She was seriously impressed, picturing a place with a with huge neon sign out front like she had seen on TV.

  He caught her over excitement “Not the strip. I’m from Vegas, well actually Summerlin, just outside Vegas.”

  “Oh. I guess I never thought about anyone living there.” She winced when she realized how stupid that sounded.

  He smiled. “Most people don’t. So you sing?”

  “A little, with some friends in high school …” She stopped there, not wanting to get caught in her lie.

  “Where you from?”

  She was about to answer when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket (that fit so nicely over his great ass) and held up a finger asking her to wait a minute.

  She nodded and took that minute to check him out–super-expensive watch, thousand dollar sneakers, real shearling coat … oh, my, god, he’s one of the rich guys. But he was different. He didn’t have that aura of old money surrounding him or the designer stuff with huge logos shouting “I have money and you don’t”. Maybe Vegas rich was different than New York. Either way, she liked it … him, oh hell, she liked the whole package.

  She had a sudden impulse to cut and run before he realized he was talking to the only poor, stupid girl on campus. Time in Manhattan had done a number on her head. Then she remembered that he was the one who started flirting with her. He had to know she wasn’t wearing anything expensive, from her Forever 21 flannel shirt to her Target jeans, she was waiving her suburban freak flag high and proud today.

  He hung up. “So, I’m playing in a band here. We suck, at least our singer does, but if you’re not doing anything Wednesday night …”

  MG stood there dumbfounded. This was the exact moment she had been waiting for, only she thought it would take like months, at least, before any of them noticed her or talked to her. She wasn’t prepared to meet the hot, rich guy of her dreams today. Had she known she would have at least dressed differently.

  “Give me your phone.”

  Huh? Was this a test to see what kind of phone she had? She proudly pulled out her treasured blackberry, feeling so in-crowd, and handed it to him.

  He dialed in a number and when his phone buzzed he handed it back to her. She tried to hide her lost look, but must have failed.

  “You’ve got my number now, and I’ve got yours.”

  He had her number! They just exchanged numbers, or he exchanged them, or … She needed to get out of rich-guy fangirl mode and back to playing it cool. “Mafia teach you that?”

  He smiled at her as he typed into his phone then he showed her his screen. It read ‘Margaret Grace?’

  He had gotten it half right, but she shook her head no. She had no idea how to add his name to his number or she would do the same to him. She was going to tag him “Vegas Josh” if it took her all afternoon with the instruction manual.

  “We’re playing Wednesday night downtown, if you want to come.” The look on his face told her it might be painful. He, obviously, had never spent a night listening to Chuck’s band.

  “Where downtown?”

  He chuckled. “There’s only one bar in town. You must be new here?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, long story.”

  He waited for more of an explanation.

  She shook her head no. “Try your mafia contacts.” She smiled at him and turned to walk away, hoping he was noticing her ass sway highlighted by the rhinestones on the butt of her best Target jeans.

  Chapter 8

  Two hours in the car with Amanda, Casey, Laura, Gina, and Gina’s girlfriend Raquel was painful. They all rode in the Caddie that Gina inherited from her Grandma, so space wasn’t the issue. Steve drove and Casey ended up sitting up front, next to Amanda, so jealous bitchiness was the problem. Two weeks. He just had to hold out for another two weeks then he would move in with the divorced guy from work. He was waiting ‘til the last minute to tell Amanda. That way they might get through Carrie’s wedding today and Christmas without too much drama.

  They were so late they missed most of the wedding, but they made it to the reception in record time–probably the lure of alcohol. Steve immediately headed to the bar for a beer and a shot of whiskey, then he went to beg Laura, who rarely drank, to be the DD for the drive home. She agreed because even sweet, religious Laura seemed to think he needed a few drinks to deal with Amanda today. That said a lot. He sat down at a table in the back of the room, near the bar, and waited for the others.

  Laura picked the farthest chair from him, sat down, and toasted him with her Coke. Steve smiled a silent thank you at her.

  Gina and Raquel sat near Laura, away from him, where they wouldn’t end up sitting next to his jealous girlfriend.

  Amanda brought her beer to the table and sat next to him. Casey finally arrived, her small hands struggling to hold two shots and a beer. She dropped into the seat on the other side of Steve and gave Amanda a “take that bitch” glare. Steve breathed a loud sigh, fuck. Casey pushed a shot in front of him.

  “She doesn’t look very big,” Gina noted about the pregnant bride.

  Laura did some mental math. “Yeah, but she’s not due till July. She’s only three months along.”

  Amanda looked between them, clearly out of the loop. “She’s pregnant?”

  “Yep, by the wrong guy,” Casey mumbled.

  Gina added, “Yeah, no shit,” and the mood at the table dropped as they all thought about Ben, Carrie’s first love.

  Steve asked, “She tell him yet?”

  Not being part of the conversation was making Amanda even more angry, “Tell who?” They ignored her.

  Gina looked over at Laura. “She showed us the letter she wrote him before she quit the restaurant.”

  “I cried.” Laura finished the thought.

  Raquel glanced at the main entrance, “She’s here … drop it.” Their mood shifted to fake happiness.

  Before things got too crazy, Carrie wanted to say hello to her high school friends. She started with Laura and hugged her way around the table, thanking everyone for coming. When she got to Steve he held on tight, so much unspoken pain
between them. He whispered something in her ear and she buried her head in his shoulder and nodded. Then he kissed her on her temple and let go. Carrie turned to say hi to Amanda but she had left the table.

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  Three beers later, Steve was having a good time so he hadn’t bothered to figure out where Amanda had disappeared. Laura went to wash her hands before eating and found her.

  “I think you need to come with me.” Laura caught Steve as he stood to join the line for food.

  He followed her to the door of the ladies room. “Hang on.” Laura went in then quickly came back out. “OK, it’s clear.”

  He walked in and Laura gestured to the second stall. He opened the door and found Amanda sitting on the toilet, fully dressed, crying into wads of toilet paper. Laura silently slipped out to guard the outside door.

  “What’s wrong?” He squatted in front of her, not sure if he wanted to hear her answer.

  She looked up at him, choked out a sob, and shook her head no. He pulled her into an awkward hug. “Talk to me … is it the other girls?”

  He was more than surprised when she shook her head no.

  “Then what?” He wanted food, not twenty questions.

  She wiped more mascara from under her eyes then stared down at her ball of TP. “I didn’t know when to tell you …” She started to cry harder and hid her face.

  He rubbed her back, trying to calm her. “Tell me what?”

  Into the TP she said, “Being here, with her …”

  He was desperately trying to figure out which “her” she was referring to.