After the year I’ve given them, they deserve at least that much from me.
Mom climbs into the car, but I stop to trace the dent and small scrape in the bumper before I open my door. Amazing that’s all that happened. Score one for me. Okay, really for the soft snow, but still.
Dad and Eric join us. “You ready, Lucy?”
“I’m excited. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He opens the garage door and pulls the car out a few feet before stopping. “And, we’re here.”
“Here?”
Dad snorts. “Yup.”
I climb out of the car, hesitantly.
“Go look beside the house, on the basketball court,” Mom explains.
Basketball court? Did they get me a new hoop in the middle of winter?
I peek around the side of the house. A red car with a small gold bow stuck on the hood is brilliant against the white snow.
“Are you kidding me?” A car? They got me a car! I run my hands over the perfect cherry paint job.
I peek in the windows. Leather interior. Spacious. CD player and iPhone nesting dock.
“Whoa,” I say, looking back in disbelief. Dad’s standing there with his arms crossed while Mom videos. “Is this really for me?”
“Yep,” Dad says, stepping up and opening the driver door for me. “It’s a Volvo S60. A little big, but you can fit all the stuff you want when you move away to college. And,” he points to the shifting thing. “All-wheel drive for the weather. Super safe.”
“Wow. I can’t even…I mean. Are you sure?”
Mom rests her hand on my shoulder. “Lucy, we’re very proud of you. You’ve worked hard on many things. You deserve this.”
“Climb in,” Dad instructs.
The leather seats are easy to slide into. My thumb looks for a button on the side. Score, they heat. I rest my hands on the wheel and my feet reach the pedals easily too. Dad must’ve adjusted this to Mom’s settings. Smart.
The passenger door opens and Dad joins me. He points to all the knobs and features and I appropriately ooo and ahhh.
“Dad, this thing is amazing! Thank you so much,” I lean over, giving him a hug.
“You’re welcome.”
“You know you didn’t have to do this. I know it’s a lot. And with college coming up…”
“Don’t worry; I bought it used. And Lucy, it was time for you to have your own car.”
“Sorry about landing yours in a ditch.”
“No, that’s not what this is about.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re in a more serious relationship now, right?”
I don’t move. Not acknowledging is safer than doing so.
“Well,” Dad taps the shifter. “If anything was to happen within that relationship that you’re not comfortable with, I don’t want you to be stuck there. You should have a way to drive home.”
I roll my lips in. Not comfortable with? Is this his version of the sex talk?
“Dad, Justin’s not like that.”
Dad coughs. “It doesn’t have to be that. It could just be a fight or being sick of a political conversation at one of his dad’s events.” He reaches inside and opens the glove compartment, clearly feeling a bit awkward about this too. “You deserve to have control over your transportation.”
“Does this mean Justin isn’t allowed to drive me anymore?”
“No, he can. The car gives you a bit more freedom though.”
I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
He taps my knee. “Okay, now go thank your mom.”
I squeeze his arm before climbing out of the car. “I can’t believe you got me a freakin’ car,” I say as I hug Mom.
“You deserve it, Lucy. Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you.”
“Should we go for a drive?”
“Yes!” I squeal. “Climb in.”
“Pop the trunk.”
I do and Dad pulls out a new booster seat for Eric. He shrugs. “Figure you may as well have this to help us out from time to time.”
“Sure. I’d love to drive Eric around.” At this point, they could make me commit to biweekly Boy Scout meeting transportation and I’d be fine with it. They bought me a car!
Once the booster is installed, I push the ignition button. So weird. My key’s in the cup holder. “Where to?”
“Everywhere,” Dad says.
I pull out of the driveway and that’s exactly where we go. I’ve got a whole day to waste before I can see Justin. We have lunch in Stillwater, ride roller coasters at the Mall of America, and end the night ice skating at The Depot in Minneapolis.
Finally, it’s eleven o’clock and I throw on a cute t-shirt and pj pants. I crawl under my covers with my laptop. Three minutes later, Skype does its signature ding.
“Hey, Lady.” Justin’s face pops up on the screen. His golden tan reminds me of his shirtless summer painting and my stomach heats. It’s not fair how easily he makes me melt.
“Hi, you’re all dressed up.”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“You look nice. Can I see?”
He rolls his eyes, standing up and backing away from his screen. His white linen pants and light blue dress shirt make my palms sweat. He tugs on the pants. “I didn’t know I was supposed to bring business wear, so Tonya dragged me out a few hours ago and we snagged these.”
“I like them,” I say, trying to suppress my blush. Seriously, he’s so hot.
“You do?” He turns around, pretending to model them. “Well, maybe I’ll keep them then.”
“Yum. Please do.”
That makes him laugh as he returns to the computer, pulling his hand through his hair. I smile, remembering how I used to think he did that because he thought he was hot, when actually it’s a nervous tick.
“Something bothering you?”
“I can’t talk long. We’re leaving for dinner soon. It’s amazing that a random political dinner is happening tonight, here in Hawaii, where Dad can meet and greet.”
“So, this wasn’t a birthday trip?”
“It was. I mean, we’ve done tons of awesome stuff. Climbing that volcano was incredible and surfing, I think I’m addicted. Mom made an itinerary that didn’t include any dinners… until Paul showed up. Now Dad’s dragging us to this thing tonight.”
“Paul? He showed up on your birthday trip? Isn’t that a bit weird?”
“Yup.” Justin rolls in his lips, obviously pissed.
“What did he want?”
“He wants me to do the reality show next fall.”
“What? Why?” My eyes pop. I thought Justin was far past that.
“Tonya thinks he’s probably invested in the show, but I’m not about to ask him.”
“Well, what did you say when he asked again?”
“Hell no, of course.”
I tap the keyboard, trying to piece everything together. “Why would your Dad need to meet people in Hawaii anyway? That’s about as far away from Minnesota as you can get.”
“I dunno.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose.
“Justin?” He’s totally holding something back. “What is it?”
“Pretty sure he’s gearing up for a presidential race, even though he always promised our family he never wanted to be president.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Paul says it’s standard practice, just in case he wants to make the leap in the future. Create and maintain connections, you know?”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Paul.”
Justin looks up from the laptop, answering someone in the other room with a wave. He rolls his lips in as he turns back to the screen. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll definitely see you tomorrow night at Watson’s, right?”
“Yes. My flight gets in around ten-ish. I’ll meet you at the party. There’s nothing in this world that will steal away our New Year’s kiss.”
“I can’t wait.”
&
nbsp; “Me too.” He looks over the screen. “Coming,” he says to them. “Okay, I’ve really got to go. Our car’s here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lady.” He adds a wink and my heart kerplunks. I love it when he calls me that.
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“Love you too. And, by the way,” he leans into the screen and drops his voice to a whisper, “you look beautiful.” He waves goodbye quickly as he ends the Skype call and the box on my screen fades to black.
I get up and fling my pillow across the room. My heart aches as the photo of Justin teases me from my desk. Twenty hours until he can hold me and this terrible ache in my gut goes away. I take a deep breath, pulling my hands through my hair and yanking it the way Justin does with his own.
Is it bad that I hate this?
My computer dings—an iMessage from Ian.
Ian: Up for another virtual battle to the death?
Me: Sure.
Ian: Pick your poison.
Me: Let’s mix it up tonight. How about Scrabble?
Ian: Are you sure you want to go there? Think of all the tournaments I’ve won.
Me: Hell yes. I’m going to kick your homeschooled ass.
He sends me the link and I toss up my first word—Alone.
Ding
Ian: Lonely?
I bite my lip, not knowing how to respond. Before I can come up with something clever his word pops up on the Scrabble board—Present.
My heart sinks. Here’s this guy posting the word that I wish my own boyfriend could claim.
That he’s present.
One more day.
Chapter Sixteen
Justin
Hell must be filled with baggage claims. Where are our frickin’ bags? Give me a break. We’ve waited thirty minutes! Dad steps up from the bench and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Someplace to be?”
“Dad, it’s New Year’s. I promised Lucy I wouldn’t miss it.” The gears of the conveyor belt start moving. Finally! Nothing drops out of the chute, but at least it’s moving.
He checks his watch. “It’s almost eleven-fifteen. You should be able to make it in time.”
“Yeah, in time to say goodbye.”
Dad laughs in a way that’s too similar to my own. I used to like it, but now it pisses me off. It’s getting harder to be his son after being around his fakeness this year.
“You’re eighteen now,” he says. “I’m not holding a curfew over you.”
“Lucy’s sixteen. Her parents will be expecting her home shortly after midnight.”
He nods. “Good parents.”
“Yeah.” Clunk. Something bounces on the metal above. There’s an ear piercing creak while the door opens. A purple bag tumbles down the ramp and bangs into the baggage carousel, just below the sign that states Handles With Care. Yeah, right. I step up to the carrousel, away from Dad. He’s been on his Bluetooth since we got off the plane. It’s like he was replaced with a clone that’s just a little off. I can’t stand it. I eye Dad, wondering if he is backing Paul’s recent approach about the reality show.
A chunky gray duffle gets stuck up the ramp, clogging the bags behind it.
Are you kidding me?
The other passengers from the flight start mumbling. Someone steps away to call security.
Nope. No time for that. I jump up on the belt and reach up the ramp. “Justin!” Mom calls sharply in the background.
I yank, and the bag drags free.
There.
I jump down to a short applause. I swear, if this ends up in the paper tomorrow, I’m going to freak. We were in the paper three times in Hawaii. Why? Umm, we climbed a volcano. That’s the opposite of newsworthy in Hawaii. Heck, it’s highly possible we were in the paper here and Lucy didn’t tell me.
I whip out my phone as more unrecognizable baggage falls.
Me: Dude, were we in the paper here?
Alex replies immediately.
Alex: Heck yes. Did you forget to work out while you were there? Getting a bit of a belly.
He attaches a photo from The Trib of our family with surfboards on the beach.
Me: Whatever, I look totally ripped.
Alex: One person’s opinion. ;-) Happy new years.
Me: You too. Don’t be an idiot.
I worry about Alex. He’s always been a lot of fun but the past few months on JV have gone to his head. It didn’t even faze him when Suzie dumped him a few months ago. Since, I’ve counted a rotation of four different girls clinging to his arm after our games.
I’m going to have to have a talk with him.
Finally, a purple piece of luggage falls from the chute onto the ramp. Mom’s bag. All right, here we go. I haul each of our bags over to my lazy family on the bench. “Okay, let’s go.” I kick Tonya lightly in the shin. “Come on.”
She stretches and feigns a yawn. “Just five more minutes of sleep?”
I reach out, yanking her off the bench. “Now.”
“Ouch!”
Dad steps between us. “Justin, a word. Now.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me a few steps away from the bench where Mom continues to gather our things.
“Your attitude needs to stop. Listen, I know you miss Lucy. We’ll get you to the party in time. Relax.”
“It’s not that.” But it is. I mean, it is but it isn’t. God, it’s everything.
“What’s going on?”
“Why did you invite Paul?” I say between my teeth, hating that this is coming out here.
“Justin, we went through this a few days ago. I didn’t invite him. He flew in when the opportunity for the meet and greet arrived. It was a prime chance to make connections. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.”
I suppress an urge to throw my hands up. My insides roar.
“Why are you so angry?” he says.
“Did Paul tell you the other reason he came?”
His brow furrows. “No, what’s up?”
“He asked me to be on that reality show again.”
Dad shakes his head, stepping away from me. “I made it clear you’d do the interview, but no show. Paul knows that.”
I puff out my cheeks, thrilled I stopped myself from ripping up the proof. I pull out a folder from my carry on and hand it over. “He showed up with the contract, Dad.”
Dad reviews the pages and his face pales. “Justin, I didn’t know. I thought this was taken care of.”
“Yeah, you messed up.”
“This should be a non-issue now. I’m sorry, son.”
He waits for me to apologize, but I can’t. For the first time, forgiveness isn’t quick on my tongue. The whole puzzle hasn’t come together yet. It’s too slimy and invasive.
“I promise I’ll deal with this,” he says with a thick slap to the contract.
Right. That’s his “I promise” phrase he uses on the campaign trail.
Mom and Tonya are waiting near the skyway to the parking lot. We all wheel our bags across, waiting while Dad grabs the car. I’m glad we drove ourselves. It’s way too pretentious to ask Dad’s driver to pick us up on New Year’s.
“Where’s the party, Justin?”
“Watson’s.” He always throws the New Year’s Bash. Parents think it’s clean, because for the most part it is, but someone always sneaks in booze. When we pull onto the highway, he pushes the speed limit. He gets it. At least there’s that.
Finally, at a quarter to twelve, we pull in front of Watson’s mansion. Music blares from the windows. I climb out, thanking them, and run to the front door. I don’t even care what they think. Tonya yells something from the window. The longer we were stuck in that condo together, the more we fought. It’s annoying, but I’m okay with it. At least I’ll always know she’s my sister. Amazing how Jackson’s death still makes me appreciate her more.
I yank open the huge oak doors. Immediately, I’m stuck in the clog of the entrance, people way too close. I push through elbows and a couple grinding to find a clear
ing. Then the recognition begins. People cheering my name, like I’m some sort of Frat King. It’s easier to wave back, pretending to give a rip about them when the only thing I care about is finding her.
I glance through the living room, looking for that dark flash of auburn hair, as people pull me into photos. Someone gives me the lowdown on drinks. Red cups have the booze. Yellow is free. All right, avoid all red cups, not even holding it for someone. There’s no way I’m going to be implicated in underage drinking tonight. With Dad’s inauguration only a few days away, I’m not that stupid.
Pretty sure I’ve said, “The volcano was awesome!” about one hundred times by the time I get out of the living room. In the game room, I finally spot her leaning on a bar stool, looking unbelievably squeezable in tight jeans and a pink sweater. She laughs and Ian claps her back. She’s back here with Ian? Well, okay, Laura, Luke, and Jen are there too.
But still.
Ian.
I take a deep breath, pushing away my desire to slug him in the face. Not reasonable. From the way it sounds, he did everything right. I redirect, focusing on Lucy’s bare skin where her sweater drops away from her shoulder.
“Hey, Lady,” I say as I touch it.
She whips around and screams, smashing her face into me as she wraps me in a hug.
A band of barbed wire removes itself from my chest. I take a deep breath with her in my arms. She still smells like apples. My muscles loosen. Finally.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” she whispers.
“I’m here.”
“Good.” She smiles, pulling away, letting others say hello. I never let her out of my reach though. I hug Jen and Laura and fist pump Luke and Ian.
“Nice to see you again, man. Trip good?” Ian says after he pulls back.
“Yeah, it was awesome. Hey, thanks for helping Lucy out in the storm.”
“Nah. She helped me. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have been sleeping on a tiled floor.” He claps her shoulder making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Yeah, she’s pretty awesome.” I say, pulling her a little closer. Jen lifts an eyebrow.
Okay, yeah. I’m being possessive. Kill me.
“So, how was your flight?” Jen asks, breaking the tension I’d just made.
Perfectly Messy Page 13
