Falling Angel by Clare Tisdale

to it and erased it before Cara got home. And he said that he had personally spoken to Ann earlier in the week. Normally, Cara would have given Ann the benefit of the doubt, and assumed she had forgotten to mention the calls. But Ann had been acting so strangely the past week. Had she really forgotten to tell Cara about the phone calls? Or had she purposely tried to hide them from her?
    Cara decided that for today she would put all her reservations about Ben aside. She was just going to have fun, and not worry about whether he was real boyfriend material or not. Even if he didn’t meet her criteria for the right man, she could still enjoy spending time with him.
    As she prepared to leave, the front door opened and Ann walked in. She was clearly dressed in the clothes she had worn the night before, a tight red sweater with a plunging neckline, black velour mini-skirt and thigh-high vinyl boots.
    Cara noticed the amber drop earrings set in silver that Ann wore were yet another item ‘borrowed’ from her own jewelry box.
    When Ann saw the look on Cara’s face, she stepped back, as though resisting the impulse to bolt out the door.
    “I fell asleep on the couch at my friend’s house,” she said sulkily, as though Cara were an irate parent.
    “I don’t really care where you were, or what you’ve been doing,” Even as she spoke, Cara was surprised at the icy tone of her own voice. “The only thing I’m curious about is why you never told me that Ben called, and how his message on the machine could have mysteriously disappeared before I got to hear it.”
    “Well, good morning to you, too,” Ann responded. She crossed to the kitchen sink and poured herself a large glass of water, which she drank down in one go. Setting the glass on the counter, she turned to face Cara. “Way to bite my head off!”
    “Sorry,” Cara said without conviction. “But I don’t understand how you could just forget to mention that someone had been trying to get in touch with me all week. You could have left me a note, at least.”
    “You’re right; Ben did call the other day, when you were out. I guess I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were that into him, anyway.”
    Cara ignored this remark. “And what about the answering machine message?” she demanded.
    “I don’t know anything about that,” Ann said, bristling. “I do know that you’ve accidentally erased messages on the machine before. Are you sure you’re not the one who screwed up?”
    Cara found her anger draining away as uncertainty set in. She had erased messages before, but knew for a fact that when she got home on Thursday, there had been no messages. But Ann seemed so certain of her own innocence. What point was there in accusing her further, and risking more unpleasantness?
    “Anyway,” Ann continued, pushing her advantage, “If you were so anxiously waiting for a call, why didn’t you give him your cell number?”
    “You know I mainly use it for work calls.”
    “Well then, why didn’t you call him yourself? Or is that another one of your rules? Thou shalt play hard to get?”
    Cara could think of no response to this that wouldn’t exacerbate the animosity between them. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We finally connected, and we’re going out today.”
    “Good for you,” Ann sneered. “I hope you have a fabulous time.”
    “Ann, what’s the matter with you!” Cara cried in exasperation. “Why do you have to be so, so . . .”
    “Bitchy, I believe is the word you’re looking for. Not everyone can be sweetness and light all the time, Cara dear.”
    The downstairs buzzer rang, and they looked at each other uncertainly.
    “That’s him, isn’t it?” Ann said. “First David last night, and now Ben. You’re a busy girl. Aren’t you going to buzz him up?”
    “No. I’ll run down.”
    “Don’t I ever get to meet this mystery man?” When Cara did not respond, Ann added, “No need to answer. I can tell you don’t want to