She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [57]
In the store parking lot, Tracey ordered Breaux out of her truck. What happened next they’d later explain in very different terms. Stumbling, he climbed down and started to walk away. Then he cursed at her and threw an open can of beer that hit her and splashed on her clothes. “I backed up and pulled forward, to leave,” she says. “He lurched at me. I couldn’t stop, and the truck hit him and he was down.”
The police were called, and Tracey waited until an ambulance arrived to be sure Breaux was all right. Although he was only dazed, he claimed that she’d tried to run him over. Police noticed that she smelled of beer, so they booked her and took her in. Two days later all charges were dropped. Still, the incident haunted her, as if she were never completely clear in her own mind what she’d intended that night.
When Ray discovered that Tracey had been drinking, she told her she’d have to leave. With nowhere to go, Tracey bought one of Ray’s rental properties, a run-down one-story corner house with a carport at 3601 Wilson Street, on the south side of Austin, near St. Edward’s University. She called Pat Brooks, whose father had been her father’s law partner, and asked for her help. Pat, a remodeling consultant, and her partner, Jane, a teacher, lived in a renovated home in one of Austin’s better neighborhoods.
With the backdrop of their shared childhoods, Pat and Tracey renewed their friendship. Evenings, Pat helped with the renovations, while Jane grilled dinner on the back patio. It was easy to see what Tracey loved. All she cared about were her two cats and her dog, Wren, a Corgi and whippet mix, and her collection of first edition children’s and animal books. “Tracey loved animals like they were her children. She talked to them like they were people,” Brooks says. “Jane and I are both animal lovers, and we understood that.”
By 1998, Tracey’s dedication and hard work at BookPeople had paid off with a string of quick promotions. Wearing her plaid shirts and khakis, her nails bitten to the quick, and carrying a backpack, she was a good fit for the bohemian feel of the store. If Austin’s soccer moms and business execs bought their books at Barnes & Noble, its counterculture population, musicians, writers, and computer nerds frequented the aisles at BookPeople.
From floor manager and buyer, Tracey worked her way up to general manager. She had a staff of 150 employees to oversee and responsibility for the entire store. “It was an incredible responsibility, but I loved it,” she says. In her fourth-floor office, Tracey had an open door policy for employees. Working long hours, she pushed hard to make sure schedules were met. As in the past, she sometimes became heavily invested in her decisions. Rick Klaw, a floor manager, at times saw things differently than Tracey and felt the sting of coming up against her. “We could both become confrontational, yelling and screaming,” he’d say. “That was just Tracey. But we were still friends. We’d argue and then go out to dinner together.”
On the surface, Tracey’s life was on track and good, in every way except the alcohol.
Fueled by the run-in with Breaux, in early 1999 the voice grew louder. Soon, nothing drowned it out, not work or booze. Tracey fought to maintain control, but was barely holding on. At BookPeople, her staff noticed she was argumentative, issuing contradictory orders, as if she didn’t remember one day to the next what she’d told them. Inside Tracey’s head, the voice told her she was worthless and taunted her to end her life
At night she drank alone in the house on Wilson, then called Pat and Jane, desperate for