“Hey, Marc.” I patted the ground on the other side of me. “Come sit. How’ve you been?” I gave Marc my full attention.
Marc was a scrawny guy whose head bobbled on his neck like one of those weird toys. But his eyes were good — mimicking deep pools of turquoise water. I never knew what the guy was thinking. His tablet was perched in the branches of a tree, and he was preoccupied with programming the next songs he wanted to play.
He glanced at me. “Hey, Tiff, how about Loose Guns? Want to hear them?”
“Whatever. You choose.”
I knew Fresh Meat was staring at me, assessing, measuring my reactions. It felt like being pierced with hot wires. I shifted a few more inches away, wondering at my stupidity for sitting there in the first place.
Serena had grabbed Cody, and they were plastered together in a slow dance. Teri burst through the opening holding a case of beer above her head.
“Delivery!” she announced, obviously proud of herself. She shook thick blond hair from her eyes.
“Where’d you snag it?” Marc asked.
“From our fridge. Dad’s got enough in there to supply all of Astenia High.” She plunked it down on the sandy dirt and surveyed us all. Her eyes came to a dead stop on Fresh Meat. “Who are you?”
Jason stood and brushed the needles from his butt. He ran his hands over his thighs and extended his right hand to Teri. “Jason Connor. Nice to meet you.”
Teri didn’t move. She stared at his hand then took a step closer. She tipped her head and gazed up at him. “Jason, huh? I’m Teri. Where’d you come from?”
Even over Marc’s booming music, I could hear the flirt in her voice. She moved closer still.
Fresh Meat grinned. “From around. You?”
“Astenia.” She flipped her hand vaguely. “You been in Ocean Mist long?”
“Merely days,” he answered.
Merely days? Who talked like that?
“Well, this just might be your lucky day,” Teri continued. “Want a beer?”
“Don’t drink.”
My eyes bugged. He didn’t drink? What was that about? Why was he here then?
She ran her hands across his chest. “Do you dance?”
“Oh, I dance all right.” He pulled her to him, and they began to move to the beat. Slow and easy.
My stomach contorted into a hot tangle. I jumped to my feet and yanked Marc away from his tablet. “Let’s dance,” I said.
He stumbled against me, and both of us almost went down. I pushed at him until he regained his balance. “Man, Tiff, you could warn a guy.”
“Shut up and dance.”
He obliged. With Marc, there wasn’t much to hold onto. He was mostly skin stretched across a tall, gangly skeleton. I guess we were even, then, because I didn’t have much to hold onto either. For all his love of music, Marc was a lousy dancer. When a new song started, he stomped down on my foot.
“Ouch! Your dancing sucks.”
He dropped his arms. “So what’d you ask me for?”
Fresh Meat chuckled. I took a deep breath and grasped my foot. Even through my boot, it hurt.
Serena and Cody had each opened a can of beer. They’d taken out the blanket and were snuggled beneath it, drinking.
I snagged a can, popped the tab, and took a swig. I didn’t like beer, but I drank it anyway. Over Teri’s shoulder, Fresh Meat watched me, his eyes half-closed, looking way too comfortable with Teri in his arms.
I took another swallow and, in spite of myself, grimaced at the taste. Fresh Meat must’ve seen my expression because he straightened a bit, and his brows came together. A smile crept across his face.
I turned away. The song stopped.
“Thanks, Teri. I think I’ll sit the next one out,” he drawled.
After checking the bark for sticky globs of sap, I leaned against a tree. Fresh Meat walked over and leaned with me. Teri shrugged and grabbed a beer.
“You don’t drink, either?” he asked in my ear.
“I drink.”
“I saw your face.”
“I prefer harder stuff.”
He backed up. I’d surprised him.
“So, that shocks you?” I asked, purposely taking a huge guzzle, even smacking my lips.
“I don’t shock easily,” he said, but I wasn’t sure that was true.
“Why don’t you drink?”
A steel gate moved across his face, and he stiffened. “I have my reasons.”
We stared at each other. I tried to read behind the shadows in his eyes. Nothing. Blank. Wiped clean. I wondered again why he was running from the cops. What had I heard?
Not much.
“Does it have anything to do with why you’re here?” I spoke quietly, but there was accusation in my tone. “You know, the reason you ran?”
He stepped away, and his gaze turned hard. “You talk too much.” His tone cut through me, and I flinched. He turned to Serena, where she was laying on Cody’s shoulder. “Thanks for the invite, Serena. Later.”
Without a backward glance, he strode out of The Hang and disappeared into the cold wind.
Serena shot me a look. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing. I said nothing. He’s a weirdo.”
Teri stepped close. “Nice going, Phillips. He was hot.” She gazed at Cody and Marc. “We could use more hot around here.”
“Thanks a lot,” Marc said, but he smiled. He knew he wasn’t hot, and it didn’t seem to bother him.
“Anyone bring food?” Teri asked.
“No,” Marc said.
“Geez, am I supposed to bring everything around here? What’s up with that?”
“Shut up and hand me a beer,” Cody said, dislodging Serena from his shoulder. Serena slugged his arm and readjusted the blanket around her legs.
I walked to the entrance. A few lonely stars dotted the sky above the ocean. The surf had grown too rough to reflect them. I took a deep breath and drew the energy of the waves into my lungs.
Dad was probably at the condo by now. I looked in the direction Fresh Meat would’ve gone, but it was too dark to see anything.
I wished he had stayed.
****
At five to eleven, I left. Serena offered to drive me home, but I could see she didn’t want to. She was on-again-off-again with Cody, and from the way they were hanging all over each other, it was on again.
Marc was asleep against the tree trunk right below his tablet. Teri had finished most of the beer and looked bored out of her mind.
I stepped out of The Hang and pulled my jacket up around my neck against the cold. It didn’t make much difference. No fat on my bones to keep me warm. I wobbled a bit, trying to remember if I’d had two beers or three. I strained my eyes in the dark, looking out for shadowy shapes of driftwood and dips in the sand. I didn’t want a repeat of my near fall on the way in, plus I’d twisted my ankle more than once by skittering too fast over the sand at night.
The beach was always deserted. I never ran into anyone when I left The Hang late at night or early in the morning. Which pretty much summed up the dullness of Ocean Mist. I hurried down the beach and couldn’t shake an eerie feeling of being watched. I jerked my head around staring hard into the blackness.
Nothing.
The wind slapped me. I sped up, but my feet sank into the sand, making it difficult.
Still that feeling of eyes on me.
I spun around. “I know you’re there, you jerk!” I yelled into the wind.
I paused. Nothing but the high-pitched whisper of the hollow grass stalks rubbing against each other.
“You don’t scare me!” I yelled again. My words swirled in the wind. Uneasiness took hold of my stomach and shot upward into my throat.
This was stupid. I was standing there, scared, screaming at no one.
I hunched my shoulders and started walking again. The approach wasn’t far away, and two streetlights lit the parking lot. I just needed to get there fast. Once I was in the light, I’d feel better.
I started running then. My feet kicked up sprays of sand behind me and some of it fell into my shoes. I kept running. My heart was beating a harsh rhythm in my chest, and my lungs hurt with the cold. When I reached the parking lot, I put my hands on my knees and bent over, breathing hard.
I never got spooked on the beach. Never. I looked behind me and saw nothing but a faint gleam of starlight on the water. Straightening my jacket over my hips, I braced my shoulders and headed for home at a much slower pace. No one needed to know I’d run like a scared lizard.
Self-disgust made my feet heavy and slow. When I got to our condo, I hoped the lamps would be out and everyone would be in bed. Seeing Dad could wait till the morning. But, I wasn’t so lucky. Through the window, the living room light was like a strobe across the parking lot.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
And there he was — sitting on the couch, his hands on his knees and his eyes on me. He started to smile, but when he caught the look on my face, it faded into nothing. He ran a hand through his graying hair and blinked his watery eyes.
“Tiffany,” he said. He stood and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
I shut the door and went for the stairs.
“Wait,” he said, taking a step. “Sit for a while?”
“With you?”
He winced. “Yes.”
“I’m tired. It’s late.”
“A minute. Just for a minute?”
I sucked in my breath, knowing how ugly I sounded. But he might as well know from the start he wasn’t welcome.
I pulled out a kitchen chair, the farthest from where he stood. I sat in it, folded my hands on the table, and looked up at him. “What?”
“I, uh, well, I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He walked to the table and pulled out the chair opposite mine.
“Why?”
“I, well, with your mother dying, and—“
“Really? You’re going to play that card?”
His thinning brows crinkled over his eyes, and the wrinkles around his mouth deepened, making him look like a prune. “What do you mean?”
“You never cared about us before. So, you can cut the sympathy act.”
His eyes were swimming now. I swore if a tear fell down his cheek, I’d slap him.
“I am sorry, Tiffany. No matter what you think.”
I stood and shoved the chair back under the table. It screeched across the tile floor. “Anything else? Or can I go to bed now?”
He let out a breath and his thin body deflated into nothing. “See you in the morning.”
I put my foot on the first step then turned back to him. “Courtney put you in my room. But you won’t be staying there long.” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I climbed the steps and marched down the hall into my closet of a room.
My temporary closet of a room.
****
I didn’t sleep well. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling for hours. First thing in the morning, I was going to peel off those stupid plastic stars. What a child I was. What a dumb, innocent kid.
I wasn’t sure what time I heard the stairs creak. Of course, it was Dad. His footsteps down the hall were quiet. He paused outside my room, and then I heard the master door open and close with a click.
Two more days till Courtney went back to school. Two more days till I’d reclaim the master for myself. Dad wouldn’t stay long anyway. I needed to warn Denny before he got used to having him around.
I’d give Dad a couple weeks. Three at the most.
One day, we’d wake up and he’d be gone. Like so much black smoke from a bonfire.
The next morning, I awakened to Denny poking me in the shoulder. “Tiffany, Dad’s here.”
I raised myself onto my elbow and rubbed my eyes. “I know. What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Seven-thirty? You woke me up at seven-thirty?” I flopped back down and drew the covers over my head.
He poked at me through the blankets. I flapped them down. “Dennis Phillips, are you nuts? You know better than to wake me up on a Saturday morning.”
He clicked my bed light on and sat on the edge of the mattress. “It’s weird, Tiff.”
His face was pale and his worry lines, the ones I saw so often, were river-deep on his forehead.
I pulled him down and threw the covers over him, snuggling up against his cold body. “Of course, it’s weird. We don’t even know the guy.”
He wiggled and turned to face me. “It’ll be okay, though, won’t it?”
I punched his arm. “You still got me, right?”
He nodded.
“Don’t worry, Denny. He won’t be here long.”
His brows creased over his eyes. “Why? Why won’t he?”
“It’s Dad, remember? He’ll get bored with us and leave.”
Denny sat up. “But then who’ll pay the bills?”
I struggled to an upright position beside him. “Denny, would you quit worrying about stuff? You’re just a kid. You don’t need to be worried about bills.”
“But Tiffany, you won’t pay them.”
I frowned. “Give me an inch of credit, would you? I can pay bills.”
“You don’t have money. You always take mine.”
“Not anymore. I haven’t stolen your money for more than a year.” I bent down and looked straight into his eyes. “Have I?”
He shook his head.
“Well, then. See? I don’t know why Courtney is having such a fit about everything. You and me? We’re partners. Right?”
He nodded. “I guess.”
“You guess right. Now, go away and let me sleep.”
He slid off the bed, headed toward the door, then turned and looked at me. “Promise?”
“Promise we’ll be fine? Sure. Of course, I promise. Now get out of here and leave me alone.” I picked up my extra pillow and threw it at him.
He slugged it away, and it sank onto a pile of shoes shoved up against the wall. A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth as he left the room. I grinned and stretched across to my lamp, switching it off.
But I didn’t sleep anymore. I’d promised Denny we’d be fine, but I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything.
****
Around noon, I ventured downstairs to see what was going on. Courtney was in the kitchen with Dad, showing him where everything was. Denny was on the couch, watching TV. I padded to the fridge to grab some juice.
“About time,” Courtney said.
“Morning to you, too.”
Dad glanced back and forth between us. “Good morning, Tiffany. Did you sleep?”
I gave him a look and took a deep swig of grape juice.
“Dad wanted to change bedrooms, but I told him no way. He’s head of the family now, so he gets the master bedroom,” Courtney said.
I nearly choked on my juice. Head of the family? Was she freakin’ kidding me? I sputtered and dropped my juice box in the sink. “What?”
“You heard me. Now, Dad, we keep all the pans down here.” She pulled out the drawer under the stove.
I stepped over to her and kicked the drawer shut with a clang. “We need to get some things straight right now.”
Courtney blinked and took a step back. “Tiff, I’m showing Dad everything.”
I waved my arm, gesturing around the apartment. “What’s to show? It’s ten square feet. He can figure it out.”
Dad held up his hand. “Now, girls, I don’t want to cause any problems.”
“You’re a little late for that, aren’t you?” I focused back on Courtney. “You know he won’t stay. He won’t last a week. You’re delusional.”
“I will. I will stay.” He put his arm on my shoulder.
I shrugged it off and put my face up into his. “Yeah, right. Like you’ve been with us for more than five seconds your whole life.”
“That’s not my fault,” he said.
“Tiffany!” Courtney grabbed my arm. Her voic
e went low. “Denny’s listening to everything you say.”
“Good. He’s old enough to know the truth. He’s not a baby.” My words shot out louder than I’d intended.
The TV flipped off. We fell silent, each of us breathing hard.
Denny appeared in the kitchen. “Tiffany’s right. I’m not a baby. I should be in the conversation.”
Dad stepped close to Denny. “I’m not going anywhere, bud. I’m here for good. You can count on me.”
I shook my head and scowled. “Don’t you think he’s had enough disappointment?”
Denny’s gaze shifted to me. He trusted me. I knew he did, so I knew he was doubting Dad in a big way.
Courtney picked up the dishtowel and wiped her hands over and over, even though they weren’t wet. “Okay, you guys. Let’s take a step back. Everyone’s upset. We have to give it time. Dad’s here now, Tiffany, and you need to give him a chance.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? A chance, huh? Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I’ve changed,” Dad said. “I deserve a chance.”
“Strange how Mom had to keel over dead before you thought to ask for one.”
“Tiffany, you know I tried in Chicago. You’re the one who left that time, not me.”
Every muscle inside me stiffened. My eyes narrowed, and my voice became a growl. “And you never tried to find out why.”
His expression froze, and his eyes searched mine. “What? What are you talking about?”
I stared at him, shaking my head. “See what I mean?”
He touched his fingers to my arm. I jerked away. “Tiffany, what are you talking about?” He tried again.
I backed up, knocking against the side of the table, then turned and ran upstairs. The air was stuck in my chest, and I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my hands against my heart, pushed through my bedroom door, and landed on my bed, gasping.
What was I thinking? Bringing all that past crap up? I was insane.
Someone was on the stairs. I scrambled off my bed and slammed the door. Within seconds, Courtney was pounding on it. “Tiff. Tiff, let me in.”
The Return: Death, Runaways, and Romance (Ocean Mist Book 3) Page 7
