Mr. Lazby sank into his chair, slightly out of breath, while the three of us collapsed onto the concrete floor of the costume shop, laughing our asses off.
“Liza Minnelli’s got nothing on us,” Krista said.
“Can I read your letter?” Mr. Lazby asked.
“Sure.” I handed it to him, and we all crowded around, reading over his shoulder. I read the “Congratulations” part about five times before I kept going all the way to the end. Which is when I saw the sentence that sent my heart plummeting.
To reserve your spot in our fall term, please send a $500 deposit within thirty days.
chapter 17
LAVON HAD MOVED HIS SEAT ALL THE WAY BACK in order to cram himself into the Beast, and so far, he’d refrained from commenting on my driving, but if he thought I didn’t notice his hands clutching the sides of his seat, he was sadly mistaken. I forced myself to concentrate more on the traffic and less on our destination.
“Tell me again why you’re draggin’ my ass ’cross town?” he asked.
“Well…last time I went over to Dad’s, he wouldn’t open the door for me, so I thought I could stand off to one side and you could knock. And then when he opened the door, I could ask him for the title to the Beast.”
My plan was to sell it and use the money for the down payment on my tuition. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of that the very first day Dad kicked me out. The Beast was five years old, but it was a Lexus. It had to be worth a lot. I could probably even get a new, smaller car, and an apartment. LaVon’s laughter rocketed through the SUV, bringing me back to reality.
“What?” I asked him.
“You think,” he said, “your old man’s gonna open the door to me? You’re crazier than I thought.”
Anger flared up in me. “My dad’s not a racist.”
“Chill, girl. I never said nothin’ about him being no racist. But have you looked at me lately?”
We’d stopped at a light, and I glanced over at him. “Ummm…”
“Hell,” he said, “if I came to my own door, I’d call the cops. You don’t have to be no bigot to be scared of me.”
I sighed. “Yeah…okay. You’re right. I’m an idiot.” I’d thought about asking Krista to come along to knock on the door for me, but I would’ve had to explain way too much. “I’ve got it,” I said, a new idea forming. “You lurk in the bushes and when he sees you, I’ll say you’ve been following me. He’ll have to let me come inside then.”
“Next plan.”
I slumped in my seat as I turned down my old street. “You wait in the car and then I give you a ride to work afterward like I promised?”
“There ya go.”
I pulled the Beast up to the front of the house. Maybe having LaVon go to the door wasn’t a good idea, but it might not hurt to have him seen in the passenger seat. If nothing else, it might pique my dad’s curiosity.
“They got a new mailbox,” I muttered as I opened my door.
LaVon put his window down and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
“Could you get out?” I asked. “I don’t want you stinking up my car if I’m going to try and sell it.”
“Fine. I’ll stand outside and freeze my ass.”
“I can’t believe you smoke anyway,” I said. “I thought you were some organic-eating, bike-riding health nut.”
LaVon shook his head. “Girl,” he said, “you don’t know nothin’.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m doin’ the best I can to leave the booze and herb alone,” he said, all his usual humor gone. “I don’t need you ridin’ me about smokin’.”
I could tell I’d stepped over a line, and I started to apologize, but LaVon stopped me. “Go get your title, and let’s get the hell outta here.”
“Okay…sorry.”
It was almost six o’clock, but my dad kept his car in the garage, so I couldn’t tell if he was home from work or not. A single light flooded the porch, but the rest of the house was dark. I stood in the street, leaning against the SUV, taking deep breaths and trying to work up my courage. I would take LaVon’s advice this time and chill. I wouldn’t yell or scream or do anything crazy. I wouldn’t even bring up the church. I’d just ask for the title and go.
As I came around the back of the Beast and stepped up into the yard, I tripped right over one of those “Vote for so-and-so for mayor” signs that my dad always lets people put up in the yard because he can’t say no. As I righted it, I saw it wasn’t for any political race.
CENTURY 21
FOR SALE
LaVon stood leaning against the front fender of the Beast, his cigarette glowing in the dark.
“The house is for sale,” I said.
“Yeah? So?”
“Why would Dad sell the house?”
“Go ask him.”
Duh. I ran up the walk and knocked on the door. When no one answered, I rang the bell a couple of times, but nothing happened. Right in the center of the window, a slim gap in the curtains let a bit of light out from the living room onto the rosebushes. If I could get close enough, I might be able to see inside.
I pushed a shrub out of the way and stepped into the flower bed. Dead leaves crunched under my feet, and branches scraped at my neck and face as I slid along the big front window. I protected my hand with my sleeve and moved a thorny stem out of the way. It snapped back as soon as I let go and caught on my coat until I yanked myself free.
I was close enough now to see through the opening, and I cupped my hand around my eyes to peer inside. On the floor sat the green-shaded reading lamp from my dad’s study. It cast a faint light over the room…the very empty room. They had already moved out. My dad was gone, and I had no idea where.
I couldn’t take it in. He’d not only kicked me out, but totally abandoned me. I think I actually thought one day my dad would wake up and snap out of it and everything would go back to the way it was. But he was gone. Moved away. Just like in those nightmares I used to have at camp.
I’d thought I was alone before, but now I knew I was. I sank down, my legs weak, the tears falling before I hit the ground. I sat there, hugging my knees, the smell of damp earth reminding me of other bushes where I’d hidden to cry so many times.
During those long seven weeks after my mom’s shoplifting arrest when I’d lived with my grandpa and my dad wasn’t allowed to visit me because Mom had filed a totally false abuse complaint against him, the feeling of being abandoned by my parents never went away. All I could do was wonder where my dad was or why my mom hadn’t come to get me. More than once, tears had driven me outside into the backyard, where I’d crawled into the boxwood hedge to cry so my grandpa wouldn’t see me and feel bad.
Sometimes I sat there, tears streaming down my face until I could hardly breathe. Other days, I’d curl up into a ball and sleep. I thought about doing that now. Letting the cold chill me from the ground up until I couldn’t feel anything anymore.
“James!” I heard someone yell. My head popped up, and for a split second, I thought it was my dad. He was the only one who ever called me that. But then I heard it again and realized it was LaVon.
“Where the hell are you?” he shouted.
I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my coat. “Coming.” As I stood up, LaVon strode across the grass toward me.
“I’m gonna be late to work. What you doin’ in there anyway?”
“Nothing. Just…just looking in the window.”
With a bare hand he pushed the rosebush aside so I could crawl out. “Well?” he demanded.
“They’re gone.”
“I figured that out. I’m just wonderin’ what the hell you’re doing sittin’ on the ground.”
“Nothing.”
He shook his head. I knew it meant this is one crazy chick. We headed back to the Beast.
“LaVon?” I asked. “Could you maybe drive?”
“Nope. Don’t got a license.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, it’d ruin my reputation as one of them hippies to be seen driving this gas-guzzler.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed a little.
“What’d you lose your license for?” I asked, once we were back on the main road.
“Who said I lost it?”
“Oh…I mean…well…did you?”
“Kinda personal question, ain’t it?”
I glanced over at him. “Is it? Sorry.”
He shrugged. “DUI.”
I knew LaVon went to AA meetings two or three times a week, so I wasn’t too surprised, but I wondered if that’s why he’d been in jail. I didn’t think they arrested you for that unless you killed someone, though. Or maybe if you got caught a bunch of times.
“Hey, LaVon,” I said, trying to sound totally casual, “what’s your last name?”
“Why? You gonna Google me to see what I done?” he asked.
Crap. Maybe I should rethink the acting career if I was so transparent.
“Ummm…well…yeah,” I admitted.
“Voluntary manslaughter,” he said so low I almost didn’t hear him.
The light turned yellow, and I probably would’ve gone through it normally, but the shock of his words made me slam on the brakes. We slid partway into the intersection, and I had to back up to get out of the way. Luckily, no one was behind us.
“Voluntary?” I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.
“That’s what they call it if it ain’t exactly an accident, but it’s not murder, either.”
Oh. My. God. Did he just say murder? Murder?! What was I doing in the car with this guy? I’d let him in my room too. And eaten food with him. And stuck up for him with Trent, saying he was okay.
The light turned, but I sat there, my hands frozen to the steering wheel.
“Waitin’ for a particular shade of green?” LaVon asked.
It took a Herculean effort to lift my foot from the brake and move it to the gas.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” LaVon said. “It was a bar fight. Me and this guy…we pretty much beat the crap out of each other.”
Neither of us said anything for a while.
“I don’t know exactly what happened,” he said. “’cause I was so drunk I blacked out.”
“Oh.” What the hell was I supposed to say to that?
“Woke up in the hospital the next day,” he continued. “The other guy was in a coma for about a week and then he died, so they charged me with voluntary manslaughter.”
“How come…how come…you’re not in prison?” I asked.
“Judge gave me five years, I did three. Out early for good behavior.” He sighed. “They needed the bed too, I guess.”
“Wow.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to be afraid of me, but I get it if you are.”
“No…it’s all right,” I said. Was I seriously okay with this? Or if not okay, exactly, did I actually want to be friends with him anyway? In a way, I guess I did. He was, oddly, the one stable adult in my life at the moment, and frankly, I needed him.
“I understand addiction,” I said after a while.
“Yeah, well, I was drunk, but I can’t blame the booze.”
“True.”
Why was I reacting so calmly? Maybe I was in shock. But the truth was I’d been around alcohol all my life, so I knew what crazy things it could make you do. No, not make you, but allow you to do. I guess that was it. I was willing to cut him more slack than maybe Krista might, but still…it was a little unnerving.
As we got closer to Lloyd Center Mall, I concentrated on the heavy traffic so I didn’t have to think about LaVon’s criminal record.
Eventually, he broke the silence. “So what you gonna do now about unloadin’ this monster?”
“I don’t know,” I said, glad he’d changed the subject. “Do I really need a title to sell it?”
“I know plenty of guys who’ll buy it without one.”
That cheered me up. “Really?”
“Yeah, really, ’cept you don’t want to go down that road. They’ll end up crashing it or something and then sayin’ it ain’t theirs, and the cops’ll come after you.”
“Oh. Bad plan.”
“Yeah.”
We drove in silence for a while. There had to be some way to sell it without a title. What did you do if you lost it, anyway? I only had about twenty-five days to sell the Beast and get the money to New York.
Heavy traffic pressed in all around me, headlights shining through the dark February night, reflecting off the wet pavement, making it hard to see, and I clenched the wheel, even though I knew it was better to try and stay relaxed when you were driving.
“Maybe I can order a replacement title on the Internet or something,” I said.
“Probably.”
We were still half a mile from the Rose Garden Arena when LaVon told me to pull over. “You’ll get stuck in traffic,” he said. “I can walk from here.”
He was right, so I pulled over into the only vacant place, which happened to be a bus stop.
“James,” Lavon said. He yanked at the seat belt trying to get loose. “Don’t worry. Dads can’t stay away from their kids for long.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I got me a daughter.”
That was the first I’d heard of her.
LaVon still couldn’t get the seat belt undone because it had a child-safety lock on it. “Here. There’s a trick to it,” I said. I popped it open. “You’ve really got a daughter?”
LaVon flashed me his broad smile. “And a grandbaby.”
“You’re a grandpa?” I said. “My God. How old are you?”
He laughed, and as he climbed out he said, “Fifty-one.”
“Really? You don’t look that old.”
“Girl. You got some mouth. Anyways, what I’m sayin’ is in spite of your habit of actin’ like a princess, I think your daddy probably raised you right, so it’s likely he’s got some common sense too, in spite of the church and that Mira woman. Eventually he’ll stop thinkin’ with his dick and remember what’s important.”
My laughter burst out, but then a horn blared behind me. I looked in the mirror and saw a bus descending on my bumper. “Gotta go,” I said. LaVon slammed the door, and I peeled out. In my rearview mirror I saw him walking slowly toward the curb, ignoring the honking bus driver.
Fifty-one, I thought. If I’d had to put money on it, I would’ve said LaVon wasn’t a day over forty. For some reason, the idea of him being a dad and a grandfather made me really happy. Some of the fear I’d had of him diminished too, in spite of his record. I looped around the block and crossed the freeway, heading for the motel. The only home I had anymore. I hoped LaVon was right about my dad.
chapter 18
AS SOON AS I GOT TO SCHOOL ON WEDNESDAY, I tried to get Josh alone to find out what he knew about my dad, but every time I saw him, he was with Derrick. The whole secret relationship thing was not working for me anymore. Scholarship or not, we really needed to talk.
That night, I got the brilliant idea of texting him from LaVon’s phone. His dad wouldn’t recognize the number, and as long as I kept it casual, he’d probably think it was one of Josh’s football buddies. I’d told Josh I was working at the café, so my text said DUDE! meet at coffee klatch after school 2morrow.
As long as his brother didn’t see it and think it was from one of their friends, Josh would be able to meet me there while Derrick was at wrestling.
Thursday morning, while I was changing the mop water, Trent filled my mug with whipped cream and when I took a drink, I got it all over my nose. I was busy trying to put some on his laughing face when I heard my name.
“Jamie?”
I stopped, one hand holding on to Trent’s shoulder, the other in the air, reaching for his face. “Josh! Oh, hi,” I said. I let Trent go and washed my hands in the sink. “Can I take my break?” I asked him.
“Sure.”
I noticed he made a
point of looking at the clock. It was only six fifteen, and I’d punched in at five thirty. What was Josh doing here this morning anyway? I’d told him to come after school.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “It will be a mini break.”
“Whatever,” Trent said. “Take your time.”
But he didn’t sound like he meant it. I ran around the counter and led Josh over to a table by the fireplace. “I’m working, so I only have a few minutes.”
“Yeah, really looked like you were working,” Josh said.
He scowled over at Trent, who had his back to us while he filled the cream jug. I was sure Josh saw his tattoo of the movie camera, which was not good since one of the times Josh and I had actually been talking recently, I’d mentioned I was thinking of getting a tattoo on my ankle of the comedy and tragedy masks. Josh hadn’t liked the idea much, and he’d probably like it less if he put two and two together and figured out where I’d gotten my inspiration.
“I thought you were coming this afternoon,” I said, trying to change the subject and realizing too late how bad it sounded.
“Clearly.”
“Josh, there’s nothing going on. He’s my boss.”
I wasn’t sure exactly who I was trying to convince.
“I have to go to Derrick’s meet after school,” he said. “So what’s so important?”
I stared at him, not believing he didn’t get it. “Well, I wanted you to come then because I thought maybe we could just hang out. You know, do homework. Joke around. Like we used to.”
“Someone might see us,” Josh said.
“No one cares what we do,” I told him. “No one but you and Derrick, and he’ll be rolling around on the mat with some other heavyweight.”
That was not the right thing to say. He ran his hands over his blond flattop and glared at me. “It’s too risky,” he said.
“So why are you here, then?” I asked, starting to feel annoyed myself.
The Right and the Real Page 13
