“No.” That didn’t mean I wasn’t trying to distance myself, wasn’t trying to cushion my heart. And, of course, Justin, being a good friend even if a shitty love interest, would sense my coldness—but I was going to downplay it, nonetheless. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Then I’m glad I decided to do this, ‘cause we can talk for a few minutes.”
As he started to get in, he asked, “What’s this?” Then he picked up the card on the seat and tilted it close to the window, trying to catch the light coming through from the street lamp. “Kevin Campbell. Roosevelt Middle School.”
“Yeah, he’s the counselor at Sarah’s school.”
“You gonna meet with him?”
After I lit my cigarette, I handed the pack over to Justin before turning the keys in the ignition long enough to lower the windows to let the smoke out. It also allowed me the opportunity to not look him in the eyes while I answered his question—not that he could see me that well and not that it mattered. “I already did.”
Justin lit a cigarette and took a drag. “So how’d it go?”
“He told me all the things that could be wrong with her, so it didn’t do me a damn bit of good. It just got me really upset. But one good thing is it seems he’s genuinely interested in Sarah’s well being.”
“That’s good.” Finally, he set the card on the dashboard.
“Okay, mister, if you plan on smoking with me twice a week, I don’t want to hear you complain about addiction later on.”
“Addiction? You don’t need to worry about that. It’s you that I gotta worry about.”
“Don’t. It’s a bitch to quit, but I will someday.”
He didn’t speak until I looked him in the eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I think I’m addicted to you.”
I choked on the smoke and coughed a few times before speaking. “So now I’m unhealthy?”
Laughing, he took another drag. “Rascal, you’re too much. That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“If you say so.” I gripped the steering wheel with my left hand, trying to keep my voice steady. “So is that what you tell your other girlfriends?”
“Hell, no. Wouldn’t be true.”
“No, I mean, do you tell them you’re addicted to me?”
He laughed again. “Maybe I should. That’s a great idea.”
“You ass.”
“You know it, babe.” After he tossed the cigarette butt out the window, he leaned over, resting his hand on my cheek. “I better let you go.”
I nodded, more than ready for him to leave, because, like everything in my fucking life right now, all this visit had done was make me more upset. “Yeah. I gotta get the kids.”
“Next Tuesday, Rascal.”
“Sure.” After he shut the door, I started the van and drove off quickly, wondering how my nonexistent love life had gotten so fucked up. So fucked up, in fact, that Justin and I had just had a casual conversation about the other women he dated like it was nothing. So incredibly fucked up that I couldn’t tell him how I felt about him.
That I wouldn’t even if I could.
I couldn’t bear the thought of rejection, so I had to do it myself. This addictive friendship needed to end. At least Justin had been right about the compulsive, habitual nature of our relationship.
But my clusterfuck of a week wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. At least I hadn’t gotten any calls from the school about Sarah. That was a bright spot.
I had the closing shift at work on Friday, and, from ten till midnight when the store finally closed, I was on my own. When it was almost eleven, I had an unexpected customer. Had he been by himself, I would have welcomed him.
But he was not alone.
“Hey, Rascal. Didn’t know you worked tonight.”
Try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to smile. “Are you here to rent a movie or what?” I missed my chance to ask if they wanted to get a porno. Had I known then that this woman was a complete twat waffle, I would have gone overboard about it.
“Yep, I think so.” As he and the pretty young woman approached the counter, he said, “Chelsea, this is my good friend Randi Miller.”
Justin couldn’t see the look on that little bitch’s perfectly shaped, though overly made up, face. The young blonde appeared to be in her early twenties with a petite figure unmarred by childbirth. Maybe she already sensed that Justin and I were the benefits-type of friends. It would explain her hostility towards me that Justin was too oblivious to notice.
“Nice to meet you.” Jesus Christ. The anger and jealousy dripping off this woman was palpable, leaving me to wonder why Justin didn’t notice it.
Or maybe he did. Maybe this particular woman was clingy, not willing to take his player ways, and he thought a “chance” meeting with me would send her running. As the woman approached the counter, a sickeningly sweet smile spread over her face, but her eyes gave her away. I tried not to focus on the slashes of blue eye shadow she’d painted on her lids, the thick pink lipstick smeared on her lips. More than that, I avoided the tight tank top accentuating her cleavage, small though it might have been.
Goddamn. I was pissed at Justin, probably more than this woman was pissed at me, and I really didn’t appreciate being put in this position—but I was on the clock and would make all my customers, even the assholes, happy. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in my life that a woman viewed me as some sort of competition. When I smiled back, I could tell it was a little too wide, but it was the best I could do. “Nice to meet you, too. Justin, do you even have an account here?”
“Yeah, but I never rent movies.”
Chelsea tilted her head. “Except for now.”
When I pulled up the account for one Anderson, Justin Lee, I said, “It looks like your address needs to be updated. But go ahead and browse for now.”
“Thanks,” the girl said, as if Justin needed her to speak for him. Then she eyed what she could see of my uniform as if sizing me up, making me want to smack her.
Justin flashed me one of his smiles that were known to make my knees wobble as he followed the girl. “We’ll be back.”
I could hardly wait.
From a loss prevention perspective, Play It Again was perfect. Not only were a lot of items locked up until a cashier sold them, but the checkout area was on a platform, allowing employees a better view of the entire store. And then, of course, there were cameras in areas harder to see, like the porn room.
From the perspective of the scorned woman, however, there was far too much that I could see—and it was damn near impossible for me to pull my eyes off them. It didn’t help that there weren’t many customers at this time of night—and none of them needed my help.
So my attention was focused on Justin and his date. One of the first things I noticed was how desperately she seemed to want his undivided interest, as if forgetting that they were in my store for a reason other than just to piss me off. I almost felt sorry for her, the way she kept flirting with him like she’d just met him. Justin, on the other hand, was trying to keep it low key.
What the fuck was he doing anyway?
I knew he had other women in his life—but flaunting her right in front of my nose in a place I couldn’t escape? That was fucking cruel.
One of my regular customers came in the store, asking me questions about a foreign film. He did that about once a week, and I’d finally figured out a month ago that it was just an excuse to talk to me. He rarely bought or rented anything. Once in a while, he’d pick up a used Stephen King novel, but most of the times, he was asking me to look up something that we didn’t have in our store. While I was chatting with him, though, Justin and Chelsea finally got in line.
Oh, joy. But that was good. I could finally get this shit over with.
Looking up from my computer screen, I said to the other customer, “I can’t find it anywhere. Do you happen to know how old it is?”
“I don’t. I’ll try t
o get a date on it, maybe figure out if there’s one with subtitles, and let you know.”
“Sounds great.” This was his game—but I knew when he’d come in next week, it would be a completely different movie, and I started to wonder if any of these movies he had me look up even existed.
Probably not.
“Thanks, Randi. You’re always good to me.”
“See you next time.” The only good thing about this guy was that it was obvious to me he was flirting—but, the way Chelsea was giggling, her arm wrapped in Justin’s, a fat lot of good any of that shit did.
When they took their spot at the counter, Justin set a DVD on the counter of a hard-to-find chick flick, one of our biggest rentals. What made me smile inside was I knew Justin hadn’t chosen that one himself.
He’d probably wanted to look through the pornos. Poor guy.
To reaffirm that I knew more about him than this stupid girl, I said, “Justin, I’m trying to update the address on your account. I know you live on Larkspur, but what’s the address?”
“892 Larkspur, apartment 208.”
Sure, I was being a good employee, but I was also letting Chelsea know in no uncertain terms that Justin and I were good friends. “Great. Do you guys want anything else? Soda, popcorn, candy? Make it like a total movie night?” While I would have never said it out loud, skinny Chelsea could have stood a little more meat on her bones—especially with Justin. I loved how we were sometimes rough and aggressive in bed, but a tiny thing like Chelsea might not be able to handle it.
“Yeah. Popcorn sounds good. Maybe a candy bar.” After looking through the candies on the shelf next to the counter, Justin picked up a king-sized Snickers bar. “What about you? Get whatever you want.”
“No, thanks.”
“Aw, come on. One candy bar won’t kill you.”
Fighting against a smile, I nonetheless relished the fact that I’d inserted a tiny wedge. As if she were turning to me for help, sister to sister, Chelsea asked, “You guys have diet sodas, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said, pointing to the cooler a couple yards away from Justin.
“I’ll get a drink,” she said to him with raised eyebrows before fetching a bottle.
Leaning his elbow on the counter, Justin turned to look at me, a lopsided grin spread across his face. “You fuckin’ girls. Always worried about what you look like.”
I couldn’t help the scowl that spread over my face. “Yeah—and you like what we look like. Besides, when have I ever been that way?”
“Guess not all of you.”
Damn right—and I tried not to smirk when Chelsea returned, setting the bottle on the counter. After Justin paid, I slid everything in a bag and took it to the other side of the counter. Trying to remove all traces of sarcasm, I said, “Have fun, kids.”
But I really hoped they wouldn’t.
Justin, fully sarcastic, said, “Oh, yeah. I’ve been dying to see this movie.”
Lying again while providing excellent customer service, I said, “Nice to meet you, Chelsea.”
While she wished the same to me, she also grabbed Justin’s arm like a leash, and out they walked. Another customer came to the counter with four pornos for rent, providing temporary distraction. Unfortunately, he didn’t distract me enough to stop wondering what the hell I was going to do about Justin.
Chapter Fifteen
The following Monday evening, I got a call from Kevin. “How’s Sarah doing?”
“She seems to be all right.”
“Like we’d discussed, I’m going to start spending a few minutes with her each week, pulling her out of class, to see how I can help. But I wanted to make sure you’re still okay with that.”
“Of course.”
“Great.” During the pause, I figured he was getting ready to say goodbye. But he had something else in mind. “I, uh, also wondered if you were free this weekend.”
I knew my schedule, so I didn’t even have to check. “Friday night, yes, but I have work and school on Saturday, and I work Sunday night.”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to get together, maybe go out to dinner. Friday night would be great.”
He could provide distraction from my Justin problem. “Sure. My son will be at his dad’s, so I’ll just need to see if I can find someone to watch Sarah.”
There was another pause, and I tried to picture what expression was on his face. “If it’s a problem, we can do it some other time. Or maybe we could bring her along, too. Might be good for her.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know.” When I hung up, I thought he must be a pretty good guy. After all, how many men would not only ask a woman out on a date—but then offer to have the kid along, too?
When I called my mom, now that I was trying to limit Noreen’s time with my kids (especially if I were on a date), my mother said that she’d not only be happy to babysit but also offered to drive Sarah back Saturday afternoon. While that seemed unusual, I wasn’t about to question it.
The next day, near the end of Sarah’s psychologist appointment, Rebecca came out and sat next to me. I was the only person in the lobby, so it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was strange.
I asked, “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to let you know we’ve made some incredible breakthroughs today. She’s talking. I’m not at the root of the cause yet, but I think I’m close. I’m still not pressuring her. I think if I do that, we won’t get anywhere.”
“Do you think she’s bipolar or schizophrenic or anything like that?”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not. What’s happening with her doesn’t seem like a disorder. She’s displaying behaviors that indicate trauma.”
“Trauma? What do you mean?”
“Something has definitely happened to her. I just need to find out what.”
“What do you think it could be?”
“I hate to speculate. I could guess, but if I were wrong, I could be planting suggestions, so I’d rather just wait until Sarah is ready to tell us. We are getting there. We’ve had some good conversations so far.”
I thanked her but wondered how long this whole process was going to take. And, while Sarah might have been talking to her psychologist, I could barely get two sentences out of her on our trip home—not to mention, the copays were adding up with nothing to show for it thus far.
In my classes that night, I could hardly concentrate. And I was so pissed at myself when I automatically found myself looking around for Justin when I left the building. As I walked toward the parking lot, I pulled my jacket tighter around my frame, noticing how much cooler the air had grown since I’d arrived.
When I got closer to the van, I spotted Justin standing by my parking spot, wearing a black leather jacket and not appearing to be bothered by the chill like I was. “Howdy, Rascal. How’s it going?”
“Not much new.” After I unlocked the doors, he got in the passenger side and I threw my backpack in the back. Even though it was cold outside, I still rolled the windows down a little to pull the smoke out. Then, after lighting a cigarette, I handed the pack and lighter to Justin.
“Nah. I’ll pass this time.”
“Suit yourself. They’re bad for you anyway.” After taking a long, soothing drag on my smoke, I asked, “By the way, what the hell was that little visit Friday night all about?”
“What? Chelsea?”
“Yeah…”
“She wanted to watch a movie—and Redbox didn’t have shit.”
“Bullshit. You have cable, don’t you?”
“Yeah. A thousand channels and nothing to watch.”
“Hmm.” I took another drag on the cigarette and then blew the smoke through the crack in the window.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Rascal.”
“Nope.” I was proud of myself, because my tone of voice made the lie believable. “Why should I be?”
“Good question.” Leaning over toward me, he brushed my hair to behind my shoulder with th
e back of his hand. As I looked in his eyes, I steeled my jaw. Hell, yes, I was jealous and upset—but damned if I’d ever let him know.
Without warning, he plucked the cigarette from between my fingers and tossed it through the crack in his window. Then he leaned over again so that his breath was on my cheek—and I was struck with how good looking he was in that dim light. When he kissed me, my blood bubbled with all those feelings I couldn’t let go for this man. Gone as quick as a kiss were the hurt, anger, and jealousy—and even faster came the feelings of desire. Before I could even register it, I’d sat up while he’d lifted me so I was straddling him in the passenger seat.
The parking lot was almost deserted now, but I wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been anyway. Lowering his lips to my neck, I leaned enough that my back was pressing into the dash, and I pulled my pants down just enough to allow him access. Quickly and quietly, we fucked. It was unceremonious. Animalistic. Uncontrollable.
But necessary.
As our breathing slowed, Justin said, “I think I could use that cigarette now.”
Feeling like a fool, I sat up and shimmied my pants over my hips before moving back to my seat. How had that even happened? “They’re around here somewhere.”
As the words escaped my mouth, though, he already had two cigarettes in his mouth, lighting both before handing one to me. I wanted him to hold me, but it was impossible in the front of the van. “Fuck, woman, how do you do that?”
“Do what?”
Then he laughed. “Nothin’.” Trying to feel my way through my emotions, I sucked on the cigarette but said nothing until he finally asked a question. “How’s Sarah?”
“The psychologist said she’s making some headway. She’s convinced that something happened to her, some trauma. The waiting’s the hardest part.”
“I bet. I hope she’s able to help.”
“Me, too.” After taking another drag off my cigarette, I spit out what had been near the edge of my mind. “And I have a date Friday night.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“Sarah’s counselor at the middle school.”
Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Page 14
