by Kate Gilead
“Yeah, that’s right, you asshole. You know you don’t have a leg to stand on. So don’t try and tell me that’s why you cock-blocked me back there.”
He holds up his hands, chuckling. “Okay. Look…the fact is, there’s only one thing you really need to know about Marie. And if that doesn’t throw a bucket of ice water on ya, nothing will.”
“Oh, come on. How bad could it be?”
“Once you hear it, you’ll thank me. You don’t know her, but you know her family.”
He pauses. I look over at him. He’s looking at me with raised eyebrows.
“Well?”
“She’s a Sinclair.”
Chapter Two
Marie
“Then she goes…she goes… ‘Carson Sinclair, you…scallywag!’ ”
Brenda and I crack up.
We’ve had our Girl’s Night dinner and now we’re walking her dogs: Tiny, Robert’s massive Rottweiler and Princess Poopypants, Brenda’s orange Pomeranian.
We’ve also had a few vodka slushies, making it a giggly, slightly tipsy walk along the neighborhood streets. I’m telling her about how, in her inimitable British way, my mom scolded my dad for putting a fake spider on her pillow before she woke up the other morning.
“Scallywag!” Brenda guffaws. “The shit your mom says is priceless. There is literally no one else in my life who says ‘scallywag!’ ”
“I know, right? If it wasn’t for her, my vocabulary wouldn’t be a tenth of what it is.”
“I still can’t believe she went to public school in Britain! They must have a pretty good public education system there.”
“For real,” I agree, nodding. “She says it was quite challenging. She figures their equivalent of high school English would be like, college-level here. Yet somehow they have a higher rate of graduation, as well.”
“Wow. Ha! I remember once, when I was like, ten or something. I was at your place and she told your brother not to leave the door ‘ajar’. I was all, like, How can a door be a jar, Mrs. Sinclair? She probably thought I was raised by hicks.”
“Yeah, probably,” I joke, giving her a little shove with my arm. “My dad teases her mercilessly sometimes. Scots and Brits, like water and oil, they say.”
“Your parents are very different from each other, aren’t they? He’s…huge! And she’s tiny, like you.” She clears her throat and says, “You…scallywag!” in a clipped accent. It’s actually a not-bad imitation of how my mom sounds. “What the hell does that even mean? Scallywag!” She starts giggling, going off on a roll now. “Oh, damn! I betcha she means, you know, his…his…m-meat puppet! Hah! Maybe it’s her classy way of calling him a dick!” Now, she’s laughing so hard at her own silliness, I can barely understand her.
“His what? Did you say, meat puppet?”
“Th-that’s what my mom calls a puh-penis!” Her voice is getting shriek-y, the way it does when she gets excited.
“Shhh,” I say, giggling and glancing around. There’s no one in sight, thank God. “Meat puppet! Only Beverly would come up with something like that.”
“I know! Hey, I bet the ladies really liked your dad’s meat puppet, back in the day,” she says, to my horror. Then she stops walking to do a little bump and grind, right in the street. Jesus!
“Bren!” I scold, but I can’t help laughing.
“Never mind back in the day…still, to this day!” Oh Lord, she’s not done. “He’s the hottest sixty-year old I’ve ever seen, that’s for damn sure!” She purses her lips, waggling her eyebrows lasciviously.
“Ew! Brenda, must you drool over my father? Yeesh!”
“Oh, yeah…sorry!”
“You don’t look sorry,” I say, but I’m smiling. It’s hard to keep a straight face when Brenda’s having fun.
“But, dude, seriously? For an old fart…your father’s, like, one of the hottest guys in Maple Mills. And your brothers ain’t exactly slouches in the Hot Department, either. People notice these things, mmmkay?”
“Nope, nope, don’t need to hear about how hot my brothers are, either,” I say, waving my hands around like I’m waving a bad smell away.
She laughs.
“I know,” I say, “let’s talk about a guy that I’d like to bump and grind.”
“Oh HO! Here we go, folks,” she yells out to an imaginary audience. “Now we’re gonna git down to it!”
“Damn straight! K, so…? What’s the deal with Mark? You were saying that he got his heart broken but you didn’t give any details. Don’t tell me someone dumped a man who looks like that?”
“Hah!” she says. “Look aren’t everything. But no, that’s not really what happened. Okay, okay, wait. Disclaimer: Obviously, everything I know is told to me by Rob, because Mark doesn’t talk to me about his love life.”
“What? You mean, there’s actually someone in this town who doesn’t blab all their secrets to you?” I put my hands in my pockets and give her a cheeky grin.
She tilts her head at me, smiling. “You wanna hear this or not? Okay, so: Rob says that Mark was dating an older woman. No, we never met her. Forty-ish. Trial separation, not divorced. Couple kids, alright? Thing is, her ex-husband, the kid’s dad, was never entirely out of the picture. Not saying that’s a bad thing when there’s kids involved, but….you know. Good dad, shared custody, the whole bit. But it seems that, when he got wind that there was another guy hanging around, he suddenly took an interest in his ex again. Big surprise, huh? They got back together and moved to Cincinnati to be close to her family. The End, that’s all I know.”
“And Mark’s heart-broken over her? How long did they date?”
“Not that long, about six months. Okay, so maybe “heart-broken” is too strong a term. I may have exaggerated slightly.” She gives me an apologetic glance. “He was…disappointed. He liked her, but Rob thinks a big part of that was because she was too busy to take up much of Mark’s time. She worked and was busy with the kids, except for the weekends they were at their dad’s. Especially in the last few months, Mark was in the midst of getting his new business set up and didn’t have much time to spare.”
“Oh. He has a new business?”
“Mollenkamp Motors. Brand-spanking new, only open a couple months.”
“Oh, geez, yeah. I’ve seen that name. He’s buying from our company. Sinclair’s sells to everyone in Columbus.”
“There ya go.”
“So…huh. He’s a grease monkey, not just a car-buff. I thought those overalls he was wearing were kind of grubby.”
“Yeah, he’s a mechanic. You’re practically made for each other.”
“Or…not. Maybe the last thing I need is another mechanic in my life. Anyhow, getting back to his girlfriend…it seems like you’re saying it was a casual thing he had with this woman. Not a love thing.”
“That’s what I figure. Mark wasn’t ready for a relationship and neither was she, apparently. So, that’s it. He’s single again. But…”
“But he’s still not ready for a relationship. Right?”
“I was gonna say, Rob said his brother swore off women until he gets his business going better. But, that’s easy to say…until you meet someone special.”
“Hmm. Yeah, but I flirted with him first. Made it easy for him. Guys love that, don’t they? Doesn’t mean he’s all that interested though.”
“Oh, I dunno. I think he probably is. I bet you’re the only girl he’s ever met who’s into cars…and who drives a muscle car! You’re one of a kind, Marie. Guys like that, too.”
“I guess.” I pause, a familiar sense of pessimism rising in my chest. “Not that it matters. He won’t like my father. Besides, no guy wants to date a girl with five nosy brothers and a mean, strict father.”
“Aw, geez. I told ya…you just need to meet the right guy.”
“Dude, I don’t know if there is a right guy! My dad can be such a dick. Even some of my brothers put my boyfriends off. No guy wants to put up
with that!”
“Well, I disagree! I think the right guy won’t even care.” She looks at me defiantly.
Shrugging, I say, “I dunno! It’s just… frustrating sometimes.”
“I know.” She puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze.
We walk quietly for a bit, enjoying the soft evening air and watching the dogs sniff every tree and bush in reach.
“At least you got to grow up with some of your brothers,” Brenda says, wistfully. “Callum and Hamish are a lot older, but you had Bryce, Gavin and Tommy at home with you. And you have five of ‘em! I only have Nick, and he was grown and gone by the time I was a toddler. It was like being an only child.”
“I guess you always want what you don’t have then, because sometimes, I wish I was an only child.”
She gives me a skeptical look.
“I know, I know,” I say. “They’re trying to watch out for me. But I do feel kind of…. smothered sometimes.” I kick at a stone on the sidewalk, sending it flying. “I’m pretty sure they put the fear of God into Brad.” Brad was my last boyfriend. I’ve only had a few, but they were all nervous around my brothers. And especially, my dad!
“Oh, God! Brad’s….yuck! You’re better off without him! What kind of dweeb is intimidated by his girlfriend’s family? Your dad and your brothers just want you to meet someone they can respect. A real man.”
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” I say, dubiously.
“You can’t blame them for cock-blocking a guy with no balls,” she says.
I snort, but maybe she’s right.
“Nick and my dad were always watching out for me, too,” she adds. “And Nick didn’t even live with us.”
“Sure, but if you had six of Nick and your dad all up in your business, you’d feel the same, trust me. If my dad had his way, I’d be in a convent by now.”
She chuckles. “Try to look on the bright side,” she says. “In another year, you’ll have your business administration degree.”
“True.”
“So just take advantage of the business experience working for your dad gives you! It all adds up, yanno. And the day is fast approaching when you can do as you please.”
“Also true. And then, there’s the driving. I wouldn’t have my super-cool car if not for my family.” Now comes a pang of guilt. “In truth, I’m very lucky. Maybe I need to learn to keep my mouth shut and stop complaining.”
“Aww! You’re a sweetheart of a girl, Marie, you always were.” She hugs me again. “It’s okay to complain once in a while. Everyone needs to, sometimes.”
“Well, thanks, Bren.”
“No worries. Speaking of cars, how’s that race-thingie you’re gonna be doing coming along? Whaddaya call it? NASCAR?”
“What? No, no, no! It’s just a fun motorsport event for charity. It’s not NASCAR, Bren! Not even close. Amateur only. We won’t even be exceeding freeway speeds. There’s a nice purse for the winner of the main event, but, except for that, all proceeds are going to charity.”
“Still, freeway speeds are fast enough.”
“Yeah, but the cars for the main event all have NASCAR-level safety specs, including all the proper harnesses, restraint systems and gear. Same with the track. Nowadays, NASCAR drivers can walk away from terrible crashes.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You know the Motorsport Association bought out expanded the old go-kart track. It’s expanded and upgraded to the tits now! You won’t even recognize it.”
“Pffft. I never went go-karting! I wouldn’t recognize it anyway. Hey, I hope they have clown cars at this event thing!”
“I’m pretty sure they will.”
“Yesss! What other events will they have?”
“Other stuff like mattress racing, jalopy and junker racing, and bumper cars too. There’ll be smaller prizes for those.”
“They gonna have food and stuff too?”
“OF course. Food concessions and maybe a few other activities like carnival game stands and shit.”
“Sounds like fun. You think it’ll happen soon?”
“They’re saying September. Right around my birthday, by the sounds of it. Sponsors, cars and acts, they’re all lined up. It just hasn’t been officially announced yet.”
“September? That’s only two months away.”
“Two and a half, plenty of time. Everything’s in place, we just need to get the permits. Politics and red tape!”
“Yeah. You know what they say about the government being here to help.” She makes air quotes with her fingers.
“Tell me about it. Dad says the town’s gonna spring for billboards and ads right across the state! And, there’ll be a big purse for the winner of the feature race. Fifty grand!”
“Seriously? That’s a nice chunk of change.”
“I know. Some big-money racing outfits are involved as sponsors. Always looking for new driving talent.”
“What do you get for second and third place?”
“Not much. Honorable mention in the Motorsports Hall of Fame.”
We both snicker.
“So, will you be only female race car driver there?”
“As far as I know.” I shiver and give her an anxious look. “I don’t want a career in racing though. I’m just doing it as a promo for Sinclair’s.”
“That’ll be a good promo, definitely.”
“Yeah…but I’m shitting bricks. I love to drive but you know how I am with crowds. And I’ve never driven in front of more than a few family and friends.”
She peers at me, her orange-brown eyes full of concern. “Do you think you’ll be okay? You don’t have to do it, you know. If you’re scared, you can just say “no”! Let one of your brothers do it, they’re all good drivers.”
“Yeah…but I already agreed. The car’s already customized for me. It’ll be good for publicity, good for Sinclair’s. It’s just one race, and I am a damned good driver.”
I say it with way more confidence than I feel.
Brenda’s not fooled. “I hope so. I mean, having a hot young female driver on the roster will be a great draw, no doubt. Hot young girls always are.”
“Yeah.” I hug my elbows, then blurt it out: “The truth is, I’m terrified. But my family…my dad especially, is counting on me.”
“Do they know you’re terrified?” Her expression and her tone of voice clearly tells me that she doesn’t think so.
“Well, Tommy knows. Or suspects. I mean, I haven’t outright admitted it to him, but, he’s my twin, so…”
“Right. So, what does he think about it?”
“We’re doing a lot of training. It’ll be fine. I just need to get used to it.” I dodge the question and hope she lets it go.
Eyes narrowed, she tilts her head and gives me a sharp, questioning look. I put my hands in my pockets and look down the street innocently.
“Well, I know your dad wouldn’t let you drive if he didn’t think you could do it, Ree,” she relents. “And it is pretty cool! You’re definitely the best female race car driver I’ve ever met!” Pause. “Wait, no…you’re the only race car driver I’ve ever met!”
Laughing, she holds up her hand for a high-five. Then we pinky-shake, bump hips, turn, and then bump hips again. She starts singing the chorus from Iko Iko, an old Cindy Lauper pop song, and I join in.
We start back in the direction of the house, singing and dancing and giggling like fools in the street.
In Brenda’s backyard again, the girls and I finish off the slushies and then build a fire in the fire pit. A little later, we have our coffee and dessert in front of it and relax as the night wears down.
“You know what?” I say, after a bit.
“What?”
“I had too much to drunk,” I say. “I mean, drink. I’m pretty tipsy. I was supposed to drive you home Jen, but I’m not driving anywhere now.”
“Glad to hear you talking sense
for a change,” Brenda teases. “However…I dunno why you thought I’d let you drink here and then drive anywhere.” She holds up a hand, as if to stop an argument…even though it’s my idea to stay in the first place. “No, seriously,” she says, grinning. “I already hid your keys so…don’t bother disagreeing.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I laugh.
“We can all bunk in the basement,” Amanda says. “That bed in the spare room down there is comfy as hell. Two of us could sleep on that, and the other could take the futon. Plus, Rob’s got Apple TV now! We can watch Netflix or movies or something.”
“Deal,” I say. “I’ll take the futon. Least I can do since I flaked on my driving duties.”
“Thanks but, I’m gonna head home,” Jennifer says. The rest of us groan and harass her to stay, but she holds firm. “Naw, I’m gonna get going, guys. This was my first night off in ages and I’m tired. I just wanna go home.”
“You’re ditching us?” I sit up straight. “The only time I’ve known you to do that is when you have a…hey! You got a new boyfriend, Jen? Who is it? Why you holding out on us?” I reach over and give her long ponytail a tug. “Talk! Tell us everything!”
“Hey…git away, you,” she says, slapping at my hand and laughing. But I notice her face gets red and she doesn’t look me in the eye. “I’m gonna call a cab.” She fumbles in her bag for her phone and pulls it out, avoiding looking at any of us.
We go to the front porch to sit with her while she waits for her cab. It arrives shortly, and we wave goodbye to her as she leaves.
“She’s got a new boyfriend, I bet,” I say as we’re waving. “Yup,” Brenda says, while Amanda nods, hands on hips. “We’ll hear about it soon enough, I’m sure.”
Back in front of the bonfire, Brenda gets a text from Rob. “He wants to know if he can come home now,” she says, giggling. “I should fuck with him. How can I fuck with him, you guys?”
“Don’t fuck with him! Tell him he can come home, but he has to bring Mark in for a coffee so I can talk to him.” I pipe up, only half-kidding.
“Oooh, alright,” Brenda says, happy to play matchmaker. She texts Robert back, thumbs flying.
