Hollyweird by Terri Clark

work,” I said by rote. “The winds were wicked bad and a drunk driver couldn’t hold his car steady. He lost control and hit her.”
    Looking at Jameson, I didn’t sense any pity, only a natural curiosity and kind comfort. Maybe that’s why I found myself saying more than I usually did. “I never left her hospital bed. I prayed, begged, even bargained with God to save her. Didn’t matter.” Like my tone, the sweet aftertaste of Cristal turned bitter on my tongue. “She died two days later.”
    â€œAly,” he said, his voice low and tender, “I’m sure—”
    I touched his knee to stop him. “It’s okay. I’ve heard all the platitudes. God has a plan, it’s His will, He called her home. They all sound nice, and I admit it would be naïve, not to mention incredibly egotistical, to think there isn’t something, some one , greater than us all, but I can’t see how my mom dying served a greater good or what plan her loss fulfilled. And that leaves me not knowing what I believe at all.” I blinked away burning tears. “I know one thing, though. I don’t want this”—I waved my hand around to encompass the world at large—“to be all there is. It may take me a while to figure out how far my faith extends, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t include creatures of the night anymore.”
    Jameson bent back, looking over my shoulder toward Dakota and Des before leaning in to whisper in my ear. “What about the devil? Or … angels?”
    His hot breath made me shiver, as did something in his expectant tone.
    â€œI don’t know.” I shrugged, wishing I had a better answer. “I was certainly brought up to believe in them. I just wonder if I believe because I was taught to do so”—I pressed my palms together in prayerful pose—“good Catholic that I was, or because I’m too scared of the alternative.”
    â€œThe alternative being that this is all there is.” Jameson mimicked my world-encompassing wave.
    I nodded, feeling he really got me.
    â€œIt’s not, Aly,” he said with such intense conviction I found myself almost believing him.
    â€œHow could you … ” My question faded as Jameson stiffened beside me, his dark, suddenly enraged gaze directed over my shoulder.
    I pivoted, suspecting, knowing , what I’d see and still it came as a shock. Desi Marie Moreno, my BFF, the Woodstock to my Snoopy, Flounder to my Ariel, Snuffleupagus to my Big Bird, was macking on Dakota Danvers like a Chinese Suckerfish slurping down algae. Heat flashed to the top of my skull and the champagne bubbles in my tummy popped in protest. Besides shocked, I didn’t know entirely how to feel.
    I mean, I’ve heard of those marriage amnesty lists, where married couples vow complete fidelity unless by some wild turn of fate and circumstance they have the opportunity to get it on with one of the celebrities on their list. It’s a joke, a fantasy. My mom used to remind my dad that given the opportunity to play doctor with Patrick Dempsey she would not hesitate. Really though, no one ever has those chance encounters with their A-list object of desire and even if, by some miracle, they did, what were the chances they’d be able to seduce said celeb? I mean, my mom was a pretty hot mama, but McDreamy wouldn’t have looked twice at her. (No offense, Mama.)
    Yet Des, who obviously wasn’t married, had gotten her chance celeb encounter and now she was, indeed, making out with him. A part of me wanted to give a girly squeal, because HULLO, SHE’S KISSING DAKOTA DANVERS (although swallowing him might be more accurate), but another part of me felt horrified and skeeved out by the whole thing. He could have anyone at any time, so why make illegal moves on a seventeen-year-old? Because he could? ’Cause she seemed ready, willing, and handy? Or was I selling