“Hanging out.”
She kicked my legs to the side and climbed the steps around me.
“You mad?” I asked.
She paused with her hand on the screen door. “Me? Why would I be mad?” Her sarcastic words bit through the cool air.
I jumped up. “Okay, I’m sorry. I was a jerk. Can I come in?”
“Why should I let you?” She fumbled with her key in the lock.
I slugged her arm. “Because I’m your best friend, Butt-cheeks.”
“So now you call me names and expect me to let you in?” But she was laughing. Lucky for me, Serena didn’t hold grudges. She opened the front door, and I followed her inside.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, throwing her keys onto the coffee table. “And you stink. What’s with all the dirt?”
“Had a run-in with some mud puddles.”
“Well, don’t touch anything. Mom will have a cow. Get in the shower, and I’ll bring you some clothes.”
I went into her bathroom, peeled off my clothes, and stepped into the shower. The water ran cold for a good two minutes. I plastered myself into the corner of the shower until it turned hot and steamy. The bathroom door opened and through the fogged-up glass I saw Serena come in, carrying a handful of clothes. She sat on the toilet seat.
“Okay, Phillips, what gives?”
I stood under the stream of scalding water, letting its heat run over and through me until my skin turned red.
“You hear me?” she asked.
“I hear you. Give me a minute.” I lathered up then rinsed. I forced myself to turn the hot water off. “Hand me a towel, would you?”
Serena tossed a towel over the stall door. I wrapped it around myself and stepped out onto the fluffy orange rug.
Serena had put on her tough look, the one that intimidated every single person I knew. Except me. “Cut the glare, would you?” I said.
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
“I kissed Fresh Meat,” I blurted. I hadn’t planned to tell her, but there were the words, floating through the air.
She stood. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She stared for a long moment, and then laughed, a huge sound coming from such a scrawny body. “Priceless! I love it. You kissed him?” She slugged my shoulder. “But I don’t get it. How’s that a problem?”
I pulled on the sweats and T-shirt she’d brought me. She was right. How was that a problem? But it was. Somehow, it was.
“You’ve kissed a zillion guys, Tiff. Big deal. Does he have herpes or something?”
“Gross. No.”
“Then, what?”
I leaned over the sink and wiped the damp towel across the steamed-up mirror. I picked up her brush from the edge of the sink and worked on my knotted hair.
She watched my every move. When I didn’t speak, she grabbed my shoulders, turning me to her.
“Oh. Get. Out. You like him.”
I yanked on the brush, ripping it through my hair. “That’s not it.”
She snatched the brush from my hand, pulling a chunk of hair with it.
“Ouch!”
She dropped the brush into the sink. “You like him.”
“Shut up. I don’t even know him.”
“Well, well, well. I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you in love.”
I opened the door and pushed by her out of the bathroom. “I said shut up. And you’re wrong.”
She followed. “So, what’s the problem? You like him. Big deal. Did he kiss you back?”
“He’s the one who started it.”
“I feel like we’re back in seventh grade gooing over cute guys. Okay, Tiffany, you gotta confess. Do you like him or not?”
“I don’t have to confess anything.” We were in her room and sitting on her black quilted bedspread. The shades were down, and she hadn’t turned on a light. I was glad for the dark.
“Yeah, you do. He’s coming to The Hang on Friday night. A couple of the guys from Astenia will be there. Are you two going to be all over each other? Should I bow out and tell everyone not to come so you can have The Hang to yourselves?”
“Don’t be stupid, Serena. We’re not going to be all over each other. Besides, what do you care about privacy? You’ve done plenty at The Hang with all of us right there.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, I have. It’s been good, too.” I could see her head nodding in the shadows. “I’m good. No argument there.”
I flopped back onto her pillow. “You’re conceited, you know that?”
“No more than you, Phillips. No more than you.”
“Can I spend the night?”
“Courtney on your tail again?”
“She’s stealing my room.”
“What? The master? Why?”
“Dad.”
“He’s a worm. He doesn’t deserve the master.”
“I know. Right? Try telling that to Miss Goody-Goody.”
Serena plopped down beside me on the pillow. “Sure, you can stay. Why not? But Mom might disagree. Just warning you.”
“You can get around her, can’t you?”
“I’ll play the ‘her-mother-just-died’ card.”
Her tone was joking. She knew Mom and I never got along. But somehow, her sarcasm bit at me, her words dropping like spent bullets into an empty cave.
****
“Get home!” Courtney seethed. “We need you home. Can you for once in your life think about someone besides yourself?”
“Geez, Courtney, get a grip. I’m at Serena’s. And we’ll come by for Denny in the morning. He doesn’t have to take the bus.”
“No way. You and Serena? I’d rather send him to school with Dracula.”
“Seriously? Dracula?” I couldn’t help it; I laughed.
“You know what I mean. Like you and Serena would be on time. Just forget it. I’ll take him myself.”
“If that’s what you want.” I could sound sticky sweet when I wanted to.
“Shut up. And thanks for nothing.” She hung up.
Serena sat on the other end of the couch listening. “That went well.”
“Like always.” I sighed. There was a time, years before, when Courtney and I had actually gotten along. Those days were so over.
“Is your dad coming on Friday or Saturday?”
“Friday night.”
“While we’re at The Hang? You gonna get in trouble for not being at the condo?”
“You mean for the happy homecoming? Yeah, probably.”
“You can skip Friday night, you know.”
“No. I’m coming to The Hang.”
She nodded with a smug look on her face.
“It’s not what you think,” I said. “I’m just in no mood to welcome Dad with open arms.”
****
I was on the bus Friday after school, mainly for Denny’s sake. He climbed aboard, and when he saw me, he sighed with a look of relief.
“I’m nervous,” he said, sitting and pressing into my side.
“I know. But it’ll be okay. Courtney has everything all arranged.” I put my arm around his shoulders.
“Yeah, but still. I haven’t seen Dad since that Christmas when Court and I went to Idaho.”
“But it was fine, right?”
He nodded. “I guess.”
“It’s going to be okay.” I was a good liar. Although usually my lies were to save my own skin.
“I know you’re mad about losing the big room.”
“I’ll be getting it back.” I pressed my lips together. Hadn’t meant to spill.
“How?”
I smiled and patted his knee. “No worries. It’ll be fine. Uh, I need to be somewhere tonight, so you and Court will have to be the welcoming committee.”
He twisted around, facing me. “What? No. You have to be there.”
“Sorry, bud. Can’t be helped.”
“Where are you going?”
“Have something I gotta do is all. Yo
u’ll be fine without me.”
“But you have to be there.”
“No, I don’t, Denny. I said I was sorry. End of conversation.”
Like most people, he knew better than to argue with me. I’d get my way. But this time, it didn’t feel good. My stomach tightened, and a sour taste came to my mouth.
Denny stared out the bus window. I knew he was pouting, but since he was in middle school now, he tried not to show it. I exhaled with a loud whoosh and fixed my gaze on the back of the girl’s head in front of me. She needed to wash her hair.
When the bus pulled up to our stop, Denny rushed out ahead of me. By the time I got to the condo door, he was already inside. I pushed through, and Courtney was by the table, her hands fisted.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
I tossed my backpack on the floor. “About what?”
“You’re not going to be here to greet Dad?”
I glanced at Denny. He stood next to the kitchen counter, his nostrils flaring, and resentment etched into his expression.
“Like he deserves the red carpet? He’s only coming to mooch off us. The sooner you realize that, the better.” I pushed past both of them and grabbed a juice from the fridge.
“He is not!” Denny said.
I shrugged. “Believe whatever you want.”
Courtney moved close and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going to be that’s so important?”
“I have business.”
“Drinking?” Courtney’s eyes were wide, and in them was both exasperation and fear.
I yanked my arm from her grasp. “What’s it to you? You don’t even live here anymore.”
She flinched. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to get things settled.”
“So you can go back to the university with a clear conscience. At least be honest about it.” I intended to fling the words at her, but instead they hissed out, barely audible.
She blinked. Twice. “I am being honest.”
“Right.” I climbed the stairs, in no hurry. Out of habit, I walked into the master bedroom and came to a dead halt. All my stuff was gone. The transition was complete. Mom’s orange bedspread was spread neatly on the bed, and the closet was empty. Vacuum trails were still evident on the carpet. I took a huge breath and tried to stuff down my outrage. I needed to bide my time. I could wait.
I walked across the hall to my old room, and there was all my junk — the piles of clothes, the jumble of shoes, the garbage sacks full of old papers and books. It looked like a bad garage sale. Courtney had made my bed, the one testament to neatness. I waded through the mess over to the saggy mattress. And then I saw it.
On the bed stand perched my vodka bottle. Empty. I sucked air and sank onto the covers. I’d forgotten to take it from under the bed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I picked it up. It had been at least a third full, and now only a few drops rolled around on the bottom. She’d poured it out.
My spine went stiff, and I jumped to my feet. How dare she? She had no right! I ran out the door and rushed to the top of the stairs. I was ready to hurtle, screaming down the steps, but I stopped myself.
I needed to think. I needed to bide my time. Serena could get me more alcohol. That girl could get anything. Besides, Denny was down there. No reason to upset him further.
I sloughed back to my room and started digging through the garbage bags of clothes looking for my teal hoodie. I knew it looked good with my blue eyes. I’d wear my tight black jeans with my old leather boots. They were scuffed plenty, but I liked them.
I wiggled into my jeans and finished dressing. My old frameless full-length mirror still leaned against the wall from when this had been my room before. I stared into it at myself, pleased.
I looked hot.
Good. Fresh Meat would be at The Hang, and I planned to totally ignore him. The hotter I looked, the better.
I’d prove he was nothing to me.
I went downstairs. Denny and Courtney were at the table, eating some kind of hamburger and veggie casserole. There was a plate set for me.
“You going to eat?” Denny asked.
“Nah, I’ll grab something.”
Courtney dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter. “Just sit down. I know you’re going to that stupid hideout of yours. There won’t be any food there, and you know it. You have to eat.”
Beneath her rude tone, I knew she was trying to be nice. A sudden burn pricked the back of my throat. “I’m fine,” I said. I grabbed my jacket off the stair rail.
“Please,” she said.
I surprised myself by plunking down into my chair. I scooped up a dripping gob of casserole and put it on my plate. Courtney didn’t exactly smile, but she did look relieved.
Denny poked around in his food, shuffling it from one side of his plate to the other. “My stomach hurts.”
Courtney reached over and patted his arm. “You’re excited, is all. Dad coming is big.”
“We haven’t seen him in forever.”
“I know, but you’ve talked on the phone with him, right? Since our trip to Idaho, I mean.”
Denny nodded.
“So, it’s not like he’s a total stranger anymore.”
I watched their interchange with concentrated detachment. I wanted nothing to do with any of it. Dad’s coming was a joke. Beyond ridiculous.
I took a bite of soggy cauliflower and realized I was hungry. Starving, in fact. I took two more bites.
Courtney kept glancing at the clock hanging on the back of the kitchen cupboard. And then I got it. She was stalling me, hoping I’d be there for Dad.
“When’s he coming?” I asked, standing up and pulling my coat on.
“In half an hour.” She looked at me, and I saw nervousness pinch her mouth.
“I’m out of here,” I said, moving to the door.
“Would a half hour kill you? Can’t you just go with us to pick him up? Then you can leave.”
“Yeah, nice try.” I slammed the door behind me. A streak of dark pink colored the sky to the west, giving a rosy glow to everything. I watched the silhouettes of three seagulls flying across the dulling color as darkness closed in. I set a fast pace down the street. If I hurried, I could be at The Hang in a half hour.
I pulled my cell from my pocket and pressed Serena’s number. It rang four times before she picked up.
“Tiff? Please tell me you’re coming. You aren’t wimping out, are you?”
“When have I ever wimped out?”
She laughed. “True.”
“Are you there?”
“I’m here. Marc and Cody are here from Astenia. The plebeians forgot the booze.”
My mind flitted to the empty vodka bottle which I’d shoved into a garbage bag full of clothes so Denny wouldn’t see it.
“Great. Anyone else there?”
“You mean Fresh Meat?”
The further I walked toward the water, the stronger the wind grew. It whipped at my face, bringing the sour smell of rotting seaweed.
“No, I don’t mean Fresh Meat.” But I did. I wondered if he’d actually show up.
And I wanted him to show up — which made me mad.
“He’s not here. I think Teri is coming in a couple minutes. How far away are you? Want me to come get you?”
“No need. I’m almost to where you parked your car anyway. See you in a few.”
A sliver of moon hung over the water, but it was so thin, it didn’t create much of a reflection. I could make out the white foam of the waves, but that was about it.
Was Dad happy about coming west? Or did he resent it? And why didn’t he force us to go to Chicago to live with him there? Not that I would. Nothing but crap memories there. But after all these years, why would he agree to move? I couldn’t see him caring about Mom dying — or about us.
Besides, I was old enough to take care of both Denny and me. Dad coming was stupid. Just Courtney trying to wipe away her guilt for not staying herself.
Not that I wan
ted her, either.
My boots sank into the sand. I tripped on a chunk of driftwood wedged deep, almost buried. I caught myself before sprawling flat.
Serena always carried a flashlight, but I saw no reason to announce my presence to whoever might be hanging around.
But then, Serena never tripped on driftwood, either.
The Hang was ahead. I saw the circle of light from our lantern splaying out through the trees. Shadows from each tree moving in the wind made the light shimmer and dance. I heard music blaring. That would be Marc — our self-appointed DJ. He had pretty good taste, though.
I was ready to duck under the overhanging branches at the entrance when someone tugged the back of my jacket. I spun around, ready to strike.
Chapter Six
Fresh Meat held up both hands. “Whoa. I surrender! Don’t hit.”
My fists dropped to my side. “Sneaking up on me? You’re lucky you aren’t laid flat.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t sneaking up. Geez, you’re paranoid.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Paranoid.”
“I’m not stalking you.”
“Never said you were.”
He brushed past and entered The Hang just ahead of me. Serena looked up as we appeared.
“Came together, did we?” Her voice was singsong, and I wanted to punch her.
“Hardly,” Fresh Meat said, settling himself on a pile of pine needles and leaning back against the rough bark of a tree.
“Hey, Cody and Marc, this is Fre—, I mean, this is Jason. Jason, Cody and Marc.”
Fresh Meat nodded at them. Cody extended his hand, and they shook. Marc continued digging through his backpack, which lay slumped next to the old picnic blanket we kept stuffed in a plastic bag. Serena observed the guys with a huge grin then winked at me. I ignored her.
Fresh Meat settled in. His arms hung loosely over his knees. I glared at him, but he met my gaze with raised eyebrows and an amused expression. My chest tightened. This was not going as planned. I’d wanted to take the offensive, but he seemed to have beaten me to it.
To prove I wasn’t affected by his presence, I sat beside him — although careful to keep some space between us. I was hyperaware of his easy grace and muscular build beneath his tight sweatshirt. He’d worn it to get to me. I knew it down to my feet, and it was working. The faint scent of soap and musk cologne wafted around me. Crap. The guy smelled delicious.
The Return: Death, Runaways, and Romance (Ocean Mist Book 3) Page 6
