by Teagan Kade
Uncle Jerry looks at him suspiciously, but shakes his hand and nods. “G’night.”
I’m disappointed, but I can’t say I blame him for wanting to escape the interview. I walk Mason to the front porch and pull him into a kiss, but it feels rushed. Before I know it, he’s hopping into his car.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I’m calling after him as he waves.
And just like that, I’m alone with Jerry again.
“Well, he sure got out of here in a hurry,” Jerry says.
I want to be angry with him, but he looks so tired I can’t muster the conviction.
“You could have been easier on him, you know,” I say, helping him into the recliner.
“Hmph. Boy wants to go steady with you, he can take a little heat or he doesn’t deserve you.”
I smile at his old-fashioned terms, but my smile fades as I realize I don’t know what to call what we’re doing, what to call us… or if there even really is an ‘us.’
Jerry sighs. “I’ll give him this, he’s a heck of an improvement over the last one, much more of a gentleman. I just don’t know, Jeanie, there’s something strange going on with him. What sort of people does he come from? He didn’t come to town two to a mule, and I don’t know of any mechanics who are doing much more than just gettin’ by. Why can’t he give a straight answer about anything? I trust your judgement, of course, but I want you to make sure you’re keepin’ those green eyes wide open. You’re one of a kind and you deserve it all.”
My eyes cloud with tears. “Thanks, Uncle Jerry.”
I help him to bed and make my way to my empty room. I’m exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come. I lay in bed, the wildflowers on the table beside me, wondering why I feel so irked.
*
The music is loud in the garage when I get there. Mason is busy at work. People come and go through the storefront. The morning flies by with neither of us saying more than a handful of words to one another.
I don’t like it.
After Jerry voiced his concerns, I can’t stop thinking about all the things I don’t know about him. It occurs to me he is still nearly as much of a mystery as he was when he first came into town.
People at the diner have asked me about him, wanting the gossip. I tell myself I’m vague because I don’t want to add to the chatter, but the truth is I can’t tell them anything because I don’t really know anything.
I have a half hour before I have to head out and we’ve got a lull, so I head into the shop, needing something to quell all these uneasy feelings brewing.
“Mason?” I ask, not seeing him.
“Back here,” I hear him, behind a truck.
Following his voice, I see him texting on a cell phone I don’t recognize. When I turn the corner, he puts it back in his pocket and looks up at me expectantly.
My nerves are on edge now.
“So… last night was awkward,” I say, prompting him as he hefts a part onto the workbench.
“Sorry, I was just… distracted. With work. You know how busy it’s getting here,” he says, glancing at me apologetically as he pulls out some tools and starts taking the object apart.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “Jerry is just really protective.”
He’s nodding but not answering.
“So what’s… your family like? You never talk about them,” I say, leaning against the work bench we christened only days before.
For a fleeting second, I see his muscles tense as he focuses on the part in front of him. “They’re fine.”
“What do they think about you living here? Are they nearby?”
“They’re fine with it, and no.”
I feel my teeth starting to grind as he evades my questions.
“So where do they live then? Are they going to come out and visit, see the shop?”
“They’re spread out and I don’t know right now. Sorry, I really need to focus on this. The customer is going to be back soon.”
It’s like I’ve been slapped. I’m being dismissed. Clearly, I’m not important enough to share literally anything with… and from his demeanor, it seems like he’s okay with keeping it that way.
“I get it,” I say, biting my cheek and fighting to keep my composure, to not blow up on him like I want to. Maybe I just need to step away from the situation and it’ll all make sense.
What about that cell phone?
I might be inexperienced, but I’ve seen enough drama in this small town to know when someone is hiding something. Usually, in a town like this the secret is easy enough to snuff out, but I have no inroads into Mason’s world. I know as much as anyone else, which is nothing.
If I don’t know him, how do I know he’s any better than any other guy? Because his kisses feel like liquid fire and when I look in his eyes it feels like the world dissolves away?
I have a list for a reason, because when you neglect those standards you end up like my mama, or like every one of Clint’s conquests.
Jerry was right. I can’t afford to close my eyes to the reality before me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MASON
“There’s the good ol’ Menace Beckett I’ve been waiting on,” Buddy says, sounding relieved from the other end of the phone line.
My college nickname, once a joking reference to my reckless and wild partying, now puts a foul, bitter taste in my mouth. I swallow it down as I pace the garage.
“Yeah, you were real patient about it too,” I say, recalling the barrage of texts and emails he’s been firing off at me.
I could barely make it through dinner at Jeanie’s last night without feeling the phone vibrate in my pocket. If the heavy reality of meeting a girl’s family wasn’t stressful enough, I have Buddy breathing down my neck.
It’s late, I should be calling it a day, but I can’t take Buddy and this whole situation looming over me another night.
“Hey, you know how it is, the family legacy is on the line here. In fact, I imagine you know better than most what that means after the mess you’ve been cleaning up after your father. I’m doing what I can to preserve the Graham name, same as you.”
Another bad taste, but I can’t argue. I’ve earned my place in hell furthering the Beckett name. Changing course now can’t negate that.
“So, what’s the case?
“District Attorney’s office is taking it to Grand Jury, so the exact charges are fuzzy right now. Look, Nick’s a Trojan, it was after a game, he was wasted… I know you remember what that was like, Menace. Nick tells me there was a fistfight, bunch of guys involved, probably just going to be some assault charges.”
“Victims?” I ask, bracing myself. It can’t be an assault without a victim, but I’m holding out hope it’s just another good ol’ boy, at least they’d be evenly matched.
“I think a handful of townies. You can imagine. They catch a whiff of old money and they’re drawn in like leeches,” he says, condescension dripping from his voice.
It’s obvious he’s not going to shoot straight with me on this. I can handle a fight from the prosecutor, but there’s nothing an attorney resents more than a withholding client. At the very least, own your shit with the one person who can help you.
“When are they holding Grand Jury?” I ask, trying to calculate my timeframe.
“I’m not sure but the Preliminary Hearing is set for a two weeks from tomorrow. Of course, there is a chance they don’t indict,” he says unconvincingly.
This isn’t Nick’s first rodeo and I’m guessing he’s not going to come out of this smelling like a rose. Last time it was armed robbery, supposedly, reindeer games gone wrong. I won, of course, but only after eviscerating the prosecution’s key witness—the scared kid that Nick and his friends had bullied to the point of felony charges.
My stomach churns over what new low I’ll have to sink to for this case.
“Two weeks, not even that actually, because I’ll need to start looking over police reports and getting my own investigator working on this
. It doesn’t leave me much time to get back there.”
“Dude, tell me you’re going to be there. I’m counting on you, bro,” he says, his voice sounding more threatening than pleading.
There is virtually no way I’ll finish Jerry’s car in time.
“I’ll be there,” I say, feeling like I’m hammering the final nail into my coffin.
“Excellent. I knew you’d come through. Talk soon,” he says, hanging up.
I put the phone down and wonder how much I’ll live to regret this.
*
It’s a gray, overcast morning and I’ve overslept. I thought by agreeing to take on the case, I’d at least get a break from the stress, the sense of dread, but it’s just getting worse. Driving to the garage, I realize I need to start tying up my ends here, at least for the foreseeable future. Of course, that means lots of things, but only one of them is forefront in my mind.
Jeanie.
I feel like an asshole, but I’ve been ignoring or barely responding to her messages, hoping to make things a little easier on her. I’m wrestling with the fact I should simply cut things off cleanly now, before she starts expecting more or I hurt her any further. I know I need to, but I haven’t been able to do it.
I’ve always been careful in the partners I’ve chosen—career-minded women looking for casual pleasure, nothing more. That is, until I met Jeanie and those wide green eyes, so full of innocence and warmth, and I succumbed to impulse.
“Hey,” I say, rushing into the shop.
“You’re late. Dan’s just dropped off a busted timing belt. It’s in the garage waiting for you.”
Jeanie’s at the counter, staring intently at the computer screen. She’s so sexy, and it’s been several days now since I’ve really touched her. I’m itching for contact.
I walk by and let my hand drag across her thigh as I look through the invoices on the desk, but she turns and moves away from my touch.
Great. She’s clearly pissed.
I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong but coming up blank. She certainly can’t know about the case with Buddy.
“Something wrong?” I ask, frustrated that she won’t even look at me.
“Oh no, everything is just fine,” she says, sarcastically.
I may not have much experience in relationships, but I know passive aggression when I see it. Why do women insist on creating these verbal puzzles no one can solve?
I look at the schedule for the day and remember I’m already running late.
“Okay, clearly everything is not fine. But, if you want to sit there stewing in it all day, that’s your choice, I’ve got work to do.”
She just keeps looking at the computer, saying nothing. To hell with it, I’m not a mind-reader.
I go into the garage and start working on the car Dan dropped off, all the while feeling like I’m circling the drain with Jeanie.
It’s my own damn fault. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it was bound to end in an explosion.
Hours pass and she’s barely making eye contact with me. It seems like she’s going out of her way to ignore me, and part of me wants to let her—certainly easier. On the other hand, it’s starting to drive me crazy, not knowing what she’s so pissed about.
I go into the office for a fresh cup of coffee. I fill my mug and walk to the counter, staring at her patiently, waiting for her to acknowledge me. For a moment, I almost want to laugh at her stubbornness.
She sighs audibly but says nothing else.
Fine, you win. I’ll speak first.
“Alright, this has gone on long enough. Why don’t you just save us some time here and tell me what it is I said or did that got your panties in such a bunch.”
She looks irritated. “Is that all you care about?”
“What?” I ask.
“Panties… sex… Anything more than that and you just shut down, close people off.”
She’s right, but I still feel indignant. For fuck’s sake, I met her uncle!
“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure I came and met your family. How is that ‘shutting down’?”
“Yeah, you did and you’ve been avoiding me ever since. If you didn’t want to meet Jerry, you should have just said so.”
“If I didn’t want to meet Jerry, I wouldn’t have,” I answer flatly.
“Then why is it I can barely get a one word message out of you? Don’t tell me it’s because you’re sooo busy, because I know you’re not that busy. I’ve seen you on that phone you keep in the shop.”
My temper rises a tick. “So you’re spying on me now?”
“No, but I might as well be since you’re barely even talking to me.”
“Well, like it or not, I really have been busy. What more is it you want from me here?”
“Do I really have to spell it all out for you?”
I can feel the muscle in my jaw twitching. This is exactly why I don’t get involved with good girls. I never claimed to be suited for good company, but here she is trying to make me fit into some mold—expectations I can’t possibly live up to, not least because I have to fucking guess at what they are.
“Look, I told you from the beginning, I’m not the relationship type. I’ve never claimed I was good at any of this. I’m trying here, Jeanie, but I can’t read your mind. If there is something you’re expecting from me, you’re going to have to tell me what it is because you’re just going to make yourself mad waiting for me to figure it out.”
“Well, communication might be a start,” she says, crossing her arms.
I stretch my jaw and crack my neck, sore from the stress I’m getting on both ends now.
“We’re communicating right now, aren’t we?” I say, my voice clipped from exasperation.
She shakes her head, looking more sad than angry, “Fine. Whatever. Clearly, all you’ve been interested in is doing the bare minimum to get what you want with me.”
Are we seriously back to this?
My face grows hot. “Right, you’re so right. Because the bare minimum was apologizing for offending you to start off with, then agreeing to hire you even though you clearly still did not like me at all and took every opportunity to peck at me. And it was definitely the bare minimum when I went and defended you from that asshole Clint or when I went out and spent three hours getting interrogated by your uncle. I’ve definitely just been trying to get into your pants this whole time with no regard for anything else. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No!” she shouts, grabbing her purse and storming out the front door.
I go back to work in the garage, taking my frustrations out on my tools. As my blood starts to finally cool, regret starts to seep in.
Still, it’s probably for the best. Let her hate me, it might just make it easier for her when I have to leave.
I go to the bench and rush order the automotive paint and remaining parts I need for the GTO. Hopefully, I can finish it before I have to be back in New York for the preliminary hearing and make it a surprise parting present to Jeanie. If she needs to hate me for this to be easier, then so be it, but I promised to finish it and I’ll damn well stand by my word.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JEANIE
“Jeanie Bean!” I hear the screech as soon as I storm into the restaurant.
Despite my foul mood, some of the heat leaves me as I search the counter for Ava, the only person besides Luke who’d be calling me that.
She’s at the far end, standing up waving, her silver bangle bracelets jingling in time with the happy bounce of the black fringe on her top. With her eggplant purple hair, Monroe piercing, and violet contacts, she doesn’t exactly blend in.
“Ava!” I exclaim as we embrace. “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t think you were coming home this summer because of the internship.”
A student at the NYU Tisch School of the Arts, every time Ava comes back to town she’s morphed her look in some new way to set the gossips’ tongues wagging.
“I wasn’t supposed to, but I g
ot a couple of days off and thought I’d surprise Mom for her birthday,” she says, sitting back down at the counter.
I look around the diner at the lingering lunch crowd, noticing the glances at Ava’s hard-to-miss presence.
“Well, I sure hope you already surprised her. You know secrets don’t stay secret long here,” I say, smiling.
Well, some secrets, anyway…
Her face breaks out into a villainous smile. “Yeah, I got in around 5am, so I hid in the backseat of her car with a clown mask on and scared the bejeesus out of her when she started it up for work this morning. Man, it was classic,” she says, laughing.
I smack her with my hand towel. “That’s so mean. Funny, but mostly mean,” I admonish, but I can’t help laughing.
“Oh, come on, she had it coming. Do you remember when she’d stand outside the window at sleepovers with that old gorilla mask on, pretending to be Sasquatch?”
Ava and Luke’s mom is an epic prankster. More than once I have gotten caught in the crossfire of their schemes upon each other.
Remembering the tooth paste-filled Oreos I had been duped into eating, I can’t help but ask, “How about Luke?”
“Pukey Lukey? I didn’t have enough time to plan anything elaborate, so I just climbed under his bed and when he got up I grabbed his ankles and screamed at the top of my lungs. It got the job done.”
I look back at the window into the kitchen to see Luke scowling and laughing. I’ve really missed Ava. Growing up an only child, she and Luke were like surrogate siblings. With everything going on with Jerry and now all this tension with Mason, it feels good to take a breather.
I see to my tables, balancing plates three to an arm and do what I can to grab snippets of time with Ava.
“So, what’s the internship like?” I ask.
“Well, it’s with a graphic design and marketing firm, so it’s not exactly as art-focused as I expected, but it’s really interesting, and I think the head designers see potential in me. Like right now, they’re actually letting me assist with an NFL campaign.”
