Deacon Locke Went to Prom

by Brian Katcher

  There are some neat apps here. This one lets you know where your friends have been. Elijah went to the gaming shop last week. And Soraya went to the Y. And Kelli went to Coffee Lab.

  Wait. That was only ten minutes ago.

  I never much saw the point of a coffee shop. A restaurant that only serves one kind of drink? But it’s nice and cool inside, and not crowded. I spot Kelli working at her laptop, alone at a table.

  “Deacon! Wow, I feel so stalked.”

  I pull up a chair. “How are you?”

  “Great. Not ‘Reality-TV star’ great, but I’m okay.”

  “How’s Hunt?”

  “Eh, seven point five for conversation, nine for kissing. But you didn’t come here to ask about me. What’s wrong?”

  I tear open a sugar packet and down the contents. “Soraya . . . we just had a big blowout.”

  Kelli rolls her eyes. “What did you do?”

  I’m kind of offended. “What makes you think I did something wrong?”

  She regards me from over the top of her glasses. “Do you really want me to answer that question? Now, out with it, what horrible thing have you done?”

  No use denying it. “I got crazy jealous about one of her guy friends. Even though he’s a total tool! He’s a complete—”

  Kelli rolls her eyes. “I can’t imagine why Soraya’s mad at you. And are you talking about that guy she went to the dance with? Seriously, Deacon? That’s who you’re freaking out about?”

  Her words make me feel a little better. “He plays the guitar.”

  “Does he have a contract with a major TV studio? He doesn’t? Tut, tut.”

  I’m smiling now. “So I’m an idiot.”

  “Haven’t I been saying that these past couple of years? As soon as you men realize that, we’ll all be happier.”

  “Back to my problem . . .”

  “Right.” She toys with her cup. “Would it help if I went to Soraya and explained what a nice, if sometimes thoughtless, guy you are, and that she should forgive you for your many, many, MANY failings?”

  I’m overwhelmed with relief. “Yes! Would you do that?”

  “Not a chance.” She slurps the dregs from her cup. “This is your rodeo. If I were you, I’d send the most groveling text you can imagine.”

  “Way ahead of you. Now what?”

  “Nothing. You wait. Send her a text a day, saying what a sorry, pathetic wreck of a man you are, how everything is your fault, and if she’d just give you one last chance, you’d be her faithful, obedient slave for life.”

  I think about this. “I’m not sure—”

  “Oh, grow a pair, Deacon. Just tell her you’re sorry. If that’s not good enough, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

  This makes me sad. I’m not ready to give up.

  Kelli stands. “My mom’s picking me up soon. Walk me out.”

  We stand on the sidewalk. I’m preoccupied with thoughts of Soraya and how she’s probably so pissed she’ll never talk to me and how I’m going to end up as a weird middle-aged bachelor who drinks beer at Elijah’s house on the weekends.

  Kelli nudges me. “It’s going to be okay. She’ll come around.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So when do you start work on that show?”

  “July.”

  She flips her hair. “Well, don’t forget about me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Liar.”

  Something in her tone catches my attention. “Kelli?”

  She suddenly looks kind of sad. She won’t face me.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just missing you a little, that’s all.”

  “I’m right here.” Are all women this confusing, or is it just Kelli, Soraya, Jean, and that girl from the movie?

  “You haven’t been here for a long time. I’ve been texting you all week, but you never responded.”

  Don’t I feel like an ass. “I’m sorry. So many people have been trying to contact me. . . .”

  “That I got lost in the shuffle.” She looks up. “Two years you followed me around, and I kind of ignored you. And now that you’re leaving, I realize I may possibly really miss you.”

  She smiles, but it’s not sincere.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “No you won’t. And even if you do, I’ll be in Little Rock.”

  I run my hands through my hair, trying to think of a way to phrase this.

  “Look. You were my only friend in high school. My only friend ever, at least until a couple of months ago. You think I can forget the girl who told everyone that I wear women’s panties?”

  She winces. “I shouldn’t have done that. Even though the look on your face was kind of priceless.”

  “Well, I can laugh about that now.” Not really. “But I’m going to miss you too. And this isn’t the last time you’ll see me.”

  Kelli’s looking at the ground. “So you say.”

  I gently take her face in my hands and point it upward. “This is Deacon Locke you’re talking to. I’ve already screwed things up with Soraya. I’m bound to do the same thing with the TV show.” I lean toward her and tap her forehead with my own. “I’ll be back.”

  She stares into my eyes for a few seconds, then smiles and pulls away. “Things are going to be fine with Soraya. She just needs a breather. A little Deacon goes a long way.”

  She suddenly roughly pushes me in the chest and smiles. “Geez, when did we get so corny?”

  “I dunno, but let’s not do it again, okay?”

  A car honks across the street. Kelli glances at it. “That’s my ride. You stay safe in California, okay? If someone offers you a ride, don’t get in the car. Even if they have good candy. And cigarettes don’t make you look cool. They just make you look dumb.”

  “I’ll miss you too.”

  She jogs across the street. “Don’t tell the cabdrivers you’re from out of town. And call me when you get there! I want to sell your embarrassing stories to the bloggers!”

  I smile as I watch her go. There are things about this town I’m going to miss. And a couple of things I need to fix before I go.

  TWENTY-NINE

  STEP ONE: MAKE SURE JEAN IS ABSOLUTELY HEALTHY and safe enough for me to leave town for a while.

  Step two: Convince Soraya that I’m not a jerk by . . .

  Beats me. Hell, I usually don’t even have a step one.

  Still, I’m actually doing something. Since I won’t be around to help with the house, I’m making sure that it’s in good repair for when I’m gone. Jean is at her self-defense class. I take the opportunity to bring in an expert to fix that broken gutter.

  Clara dances and prances across the roof, directing the operations. And doing pretty much everything. Elijah sits next to her, gripping the dormers and occasionally holding something in place. I stand on the ground, staying out of their way and sometimes passing a tool to Clara.

  “Seriously, guys, anything I can do?”

  Clara, who is holding several screws in her mouth, shakes her head. Elijah kind of whimpers.

  I take a break from my duties of doing nothing and step back to look at the progress. The repair job is coming along nicely. Clara says they no longer make those big copper gutters, and the replacement section is noticeable. A big stretch of aluminum tubing where a solid metal pipe used to be. Kind of like where you once had a great girlfriend to hang out with, and now all you have is Elijah.

  I’ve texted her two or ten times since our fight the other day, but there’s no response. I call, but she doesn’t answer. I’m stuck in neutral. I need a change in my game plan.

  “Hey, Deacon? When was the last time you had this chimney swept?”

  “Probably before I was born.”

  Elijah, still clinging to the shingles, stares down the driveway. “Heads up, we have company.”

  Is it Soraya? It’s Soraya, right? She’s coming here for us to have one more big spat, and then a passionate makeup kiss in the driveway, as
Clara looks wistful and Elijah catcalls. I eagerly turn.

  Aaaand . . . it’s Jason. I recognize his jerkmobile from the time he intruded on astronomy night. What in the holy hell is he doing here? I’ll correct his mistake right quickly.

  Jason parks and gets out. He walks directly toward me, being careful not to soil his fancy shoes in a mud puddle. He approaches me slowly, almost skittish. It’s like I could yell “Boo!” and he’d go running off.

  I don’t yell “boo.”

  When he’s about four feet away from me, he looks me right up in the eye, but doesn’t come any closer. He claps his hands once.

  “Deacon . . . is your grandmother here?” He glances around.

  “Uh . . . no.”

  “Good. Because . . . because what I have to say is between you and me.” He points a finger at my chest. “I want you to stay away from her.”

  I’m confused. “But she’s my grandmother.”

  “No, I mean . . .” He looks at the ground, then back up at me. His eyes look angry. “Soraya. Don’t call her anymore. Stop bothering her.”

  Behind me, the construction noises abruptly stop.

  “Excuse me, Jason?”

  “You heard me.” The sentence ends in a squeak.

  I’m suddenly aware of how hot it is out here. So very, very hot. I’m sweating. I swallow.

  “And you think it’s your place to give me orders?” I take a step toward him. He steps back.

  “I know her a lot better than you.” He keeps glancing toward his car.

  I take another step, over the piece of downed gutter. “Jason, back off. I know she’s pissed at me, but this is not your business. This is not your fight.”

  Damn, it’s hot out here. I can see rings of sweat forming in the armpits of Jason’s crisp, white shirt.

  “Soraya will call you when she’s ready to talk.”

  “That’s her decision, not yours.” I continue to move forward.

  He stands his ground. “If you care about her, you need to leave her alone right now.”

  Clara says something, but I don’t catch it. Jason and I are standing eye to eye, with only a vertical foot between us.

  “You’re a liar. Now get out of my yard.”

  Jason turns and skutters off. For a couple of feet.

  And then he comes back. “Listen to me, Deacon.”

  I’m done listening. I stick out a finger and thump him in the chest. He staggers backward.

  And then his hand shoots out. He pokes me in the stomach. Right in the stomach.

  It hurts.

  It’s so very, very hot out here. . . .

  “Guys!” Elijah’s screechy voice cuts through the blurry haze of my mind. I turn to see him scrambling down from the porch roof.

  “Guys, hang on! Don’t—”

  He loses his grip and falls straight backward into the azaleas. Clara shrieks his name before leaping, feetfirst, to the ground.

  Jason and I rush toward them.

  Elijah staggers to his feet. “I’m all right!” he says, with that goofy smile of his.

  “Are you sure?” asks Clara.

  He frowns. “Nah, I’m just kidding. I broke my wrist.”

  He holds up his arm, revealing a twisted and discolored hand. He’s still grinning, tears running down his nose.

  Clara screams.

  Jason and I exchange a panicked look before remembering we’re pissed at each other and turn away. The three of us stand there, staring at Elijah, who’s clutching his forearm.

  “Clara, honey, you wanna drive me to the hospital? You’re going to have to fish my keys out.”

  She sticks her hand into his front pocket and digs around, but Elijah doesn’t crack a joke. He must truly be in pain.

  I snap out of my helplessness. “Clara, let me drive him!”

  Elijah glances at his tiny car, the back of which is filled with Clara’s tools. “You stay here. Call my mom, tell her what happened. Don’t tell her I’ve been drinking.”

  “You haven’t been drinking.”

  “Then you won’t have to lie. And Jason . . .” He turns to my nemesis and pointedly nods toward his car. “Amscray. I don’t need either of you in the ER with me.”

  Jason opens his mouth to be irritating but realizes the injured man trumps even his superiority. Instead, he takes out his phone and does something. I feel my phone buzz in response. Without another word, he slinks off to his car and leaves.

  I help Clara, who’s now crying, stuff Elijah into his car. He smiles painfully at me through the window.

  “No dueling while I’m gone. My lawyers will be in touch.”

  I watch them drive away, leaving me alone.

  God, does everything in my life end in catastrophe?

  I take out my phone to call Elijah’s mother. Jesus, how am I going to say this gently?

  Have you ever thought about gravity, Mrs. Haversham?

  So there we were, innocently hanging out on the roof . . .

  Would you mind if I faxed you over a liability waiver?

  And then I notice what it was that Jason sent me. And suddenly, I realize that Elijah is having a better day than me.

  Another goddamn video clip. It must have been taken the other day, outside the coffeehouse where I met Kelli. It’s just the two of us, talking, when she told me she’d miss me. There I am trying to cheer her up. There I am putting my hands on her cheeks. There I am, leaning toward her. . . .

  Oh, shit. What with the angle and the poor quality of the video, it doesn’t look like we’re talking. It looks like we’re kissing.

  Who the hell filmed this? What kind of Orwellian nightmare am I living in? I read the name of whoever uploaded this. 2crazy4u had better watch their ass.

  With a growing sense of doom, I read the comments.

  DEACON LIKES BIG BUTTS AND HE CANNOT LIE.

  WASN’T HE DATING SOME ARAB CHICK?

  CHRIST, LOOK AT THE ASS ON THAT ONE.

  THE DEEPER THE CUSHION . . .

  I feel like I’m going to puke. I pray to God Kelli hasn’t seen this. She deserves better.

  And then the true horror of my situation dawns on me.

  Jason doesn’t know Kelli. He doesn’t care about her feelings.

  It’s Soraya he likes. And if Jason knows about this, then so does she. He’d make sure of that.

  Shit.

  THIRTY

  ELIJAH’S MOTHER REFUSES TO GET OFF THE PHONE when I call her. It must run in the family. I spend ten minutes assuring her that her son isn’t dying of a broken neck somewhere, and another ten getting berated for allowing him to do something dangerous, like be up on my roof. She’s driving to the hospital while she talks to me on the phone. Apparently that’s not dangerous.

  Eventually she lets me go and I rush to Soraya’s house. Maybe Jason didn’t show her the clip. Maybe she saw it, but she wants to hear my side first. Maybe she doesn’t believe everything she sees on the internet.

  I’m exhausted by the time I reach her neighborhood. I pause to catch my breath, then rush to her door.

  As if things weren’t already going great, her father answers. He’s not smiling this time.

  “Hello, Deacon.” He doesn’t say “eat shit and die,” but it’s implied.

  “Mr. Shadee, is Soraya here?”

  He inhales deeply. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you at the moment. And I have to say, I agree.”

  Oh, goody. He’s seen the clip too.

  “Mr. Shadee, I—”

  “It’s okay, Dad. Let me talk to him.”

  Soraya stands in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes are not bloodshot from tears. She’s not dressed in the clothes that she slept in. Her hair is not an unkempt mess.

  She’s just as beautiful and stylish and together as she always is. Should I be relieved or worried?

  Mr. Shadee regards me from under his bushy eyebrows. “Outside, then. Five minutes.”

  We’re alone on the porch. Before Soraya can say anything, I open my mou
th.

  “I didn’t kiss her. I know what it looks like, but I swear, nothing happened.”

  She looks at me with those brown, brown eyes. “I know. I believe you.”

  Okay, she believes me. So why does all not seem right?

  “Then are we . . . okay?”

  She shakes her head. “Deacon . . .”

  I feel my heart creak. “Please. Don’t.”

  I use my latent psychic powers to prevent her from talking. I try with all my might to get time to rewind, back before I’d even heard of Celebrity Dance Off or had a social media account.

  It doesn’t work.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. And I can tell she means it. “I thought I wouldn’t mind. I thought famous Deacon could be on the show while I dated real Deacon. But they’re the same guy.”

  “Then I won’t do the show!” But even as I say it, I know the words sound forced, insincere. A fake offer that I know she won’t take.

  “Yes you will. I’d hate myself if you gave this up, and you’d end up resenting me.”

  “Then how can I make things right? How can I make this work?” If it weren’t for my fear of Jason spying on me from his house, I’d get down on my knees.

  She turns and stares at the porch lamp. “You shouldn’t have to change, not for TV, not for me, not for anyone. And I shouldn’t have to worry every time you go to a party or dance with another girl.”

  I’m starting to lose it. “You have nothing to worry about! I like you! You’re perfect, why would I want to be with someone else?”

  “Damn it!” she suddenly shouts. “You treat me like I’m some kind of superwoman! I’m not! I’m insecure! I’m scared to go off to college!”

  “So am I!”

  “Sometimes I hate who I see in the mirror.”

  “At least you don’t have to squat to see your reflection!”

  “I get freaked out when I see you with other girls. I know there’s nothing going on with you and Kelli, but it still made me jealous to see you with your hands all over her.”

  “And I nearly got in a fistfight with Jason today!” That startles her, I can tell. “Soraya, don’t you see? You and I, we’re totally screwed up. We’re meant to be together!”