The Right and the Real

by Joëlle Anthony

  “Because I had to tell you not to text me, even from someone else’s phone. You never know who might see it, and my dad’s been threatening every day to pull us out of school. If I don’t graduate, they’ll take away my football scholarship.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m well aware of that.”

  He got up to leave.

  “Josh, please,” I said, running after him. Luckily the café was empty, but I had the feeling Trent was watching, and I lowered my voice. “Fine. Don’t hang out with me. But I need to know where my dad is. His house is for sale, and they’ve moved out.”

  “You don’t have to worry about him,” he said. “They made him a disciple.”

  “Really?”

  “You better get back to work,” he said, giving Trent another dirty look before he pushed open the door and left. It swung shut behind him, the little bell tinkling cheerfully. I knew he’d gotten his feelings hurt when he saw me and Trent messing around, and even though I didn’t really enjoy being treated like a big secret, I still cared about him. I’d have to make it up to him later. At least I’d gotten an answer about my dad. The Teacher must have moved him and Mira into the compound. That was why he didn’t need his house anymore. Jesus only had twelve disciples, and I knew the Right & the Real already had those slots filled. I guessed there was always room for a thirteenth, if he had a trust fund.

  “Who was that?” Trent asked.

  I knew the correct answer, but for some reason, I didn’t want to say it.

  “A friend from school.”

  “Didn’t seem very friendly to me,” Trent mumbled.

  On Sunday morning, I gathered up the pile of cash I’d counted out on my bed and took it downstairs to pay my rent. I was already regretting last night’s splurge with Krista and Liz. The thing was, I couldn’t avoid doing stuff with them entirely, or they’d start to get suspicious.

  “We thought maybe you didn’t like us anymore, chickie,” Krista said, when I picked them up at her house.

  “You’re my best girls,” I told them.

  “Do you think a stranger would buy us being best friends?” Liz asked, eyeing the three of us and giggling. As usual, Liz had worn black, and her hair was up in her ballet bun. All I could manage was a clean pair of jeans, my pink cashmere sweater, and high-heeled boots. Krista sparkled with glitter makeup and a ruffled gold lamé skirt, sequined high-top tennis shoes, and a silky blouse with a plunging neckline.

  “Unlikely,” Krista said. “Liz looks like she should be going to Carnegie Hall, Jamie is off to meet her doctor fiancé at the country club, and I’m planning to dance the night away.”

  We hadn’t done any of those things, though. We’d seen a movie and eaten a pizza, and this morning I was acutely feeling the loss of the twenty dollars I’d spent.

  A girl I knew vaguely from the laundry room was at the counter talking to Stub when I got to the lobby. Vanessa was only nineteen, but she already had a toddler, and a distinct baby bump showed under her too-short T-shirt. Her boyfriend was in jail, serving three months for resisting arrest. I didn’t even want to know why he was being arrested at the time. She’d divulged all this information in the first two minutes we’d met, and so usually I tried to avoid her in case she had more depressing things to tell me.

  “Come on, Stub,” Vanessa said. “You can’t do this.”

  “Rent is due by eleven o’clock on Sunday morning. If you can’t pay, you have to move out.”

  “But I’ve been here for five months,” Vanessa said. “You know I’m good for it.”

  Stub pointed to the sign that said exactly what he’d just told her. I couldn’t believe she’d lived here for five months. This was only my third week, and I was already so depressed by the idea of handing over more money for rent, I could barely stand it.

  Vanessa’s little girl, Ruby, was sitting on the floor by the dead plant, playing in the dirt. All she had on was a disposable diaper, and it was pretty obvious it needed to be changed. I waved at her and made silly faces because I didn’t know where else to look.

  Vanessa saw me, and the smile she gave me was way too familiar. I’d seen my mother give people that look every time she was about to ask for a favor. I knew what was coming.

  “Hey, Jamie,” she said. “How you doing?”

  “Oh, fine,” I said, keeping my eyes on Ruby.

  “So…LaVon said you got a job.”

  “I just started,” I said. “I’ve only worked there one week.”

  “I’m a little short on rent this week,” she said.

  “Really? Wow. That’s ummm…too bad.”

  Crap. What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t afford to float Vanessa and Ruby. From now on, I was going to stay clear of the lobby as much as possible.

  “You wouldn’t be able to give me a teeny-weeny loan,” she said. She made her blue eyes go all round and innocent-looking. “Would you? Just until Wednesday?”

  “Ummm…how much?”

  Behind Vanessa, Stub shook his head vigorously at me and mouthed, “Say no!”

  “A hundred bucks?”

  A hundred dollars? Was she crazy? She wasn’t short, she was missing almost half of her rent. “Oh, I’m sorry…I don’t have it,” I said. I was kind of relieved she’d asked for so much because I really couldn’t give it to her. If she’d asked for twenty, I might not have been able to say no.

  “Did you want to pay your rent, Jamie?” Stub asked, coming to the rescue.

  “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

  I shoved the money across the counter and ran for the stairs before she could counteroffer. A couple of hours later, I went downstairs to go to the grocery store. Vanessa was loading Ruby and half a dozen black garbage bags into a dilapidated car with a broken windshield.

  I thought of my dad. Countless times we’d been walking downtown together and he would hand over a buck or two to a homeless person. Then he would put his arm around me, squeeze my shoulder, and say, “There but for the grace of God go I.”

  Me too, Dad. Me too.

  chapter 19

  ON MONDAY, THE BAKER DELIVERED HEART-SHAPED scones and sugar cookies with pink frosting and arrows across them in red.

  “Get a stack of gift cards ready,” Trent told me as we set up for the day. “Because a whole bunch of guys woke up this morning and their wives and girlfriends gave them Valentine’s gifts, and they are totally screwed because they forgot. We’ll sell a ton of them.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  “Happens every year. Well, I only actually worked here last year, but it happened then.”

  I looked around the café at all the decorations that had been up for two weeks. Pink balloons, red heart-shaped pillows added to the sofas, lacy doilies in the windows. How could anyone forget Valentine’s Day? Even though the weekend had gone by without a word from Josh, I’d bought him a box of his favorite cashew brittle, and I was going to stick it in his locker.

  “Could you check the till and make sure we have enough ones?” Trent asked me.

  I popped the drawer and then started laughing. Instead of money, he’d filled the whole thing with candy hearts. He was giving me a sexy grin, and his crooked tooth reminded me of the first time I’d met him and wanted to run my tongue over it. I really needed to stop thinking about that.

  “Did you steal the money?” I asked.

  “Nah. It’s all underneath. But I thought maybe you’d want to take your loot out before anyone comes in.”

  He handed me a paper bag and helped me scoop the chalky blue, pink, and white candies into it. He held one up so I could read it. You’re special, Valentine.

  “You’re a goof,” I said.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed, and then he ate the candy.

  By the time we’d cleared out the drawer, it was time to open. A guy in a gray suit was standing outside texting on his phone, waiting for me to unlock the door.

  “Good thing you open early,” he said. “My secretary would freak out if I didn’t br
ing her a latte on Valentine’s Day.”

  “You better get her some truffles, too,” Trent suggested, holding up a box we’d gotten in especially for the holiday.

  “You think?” the guy asked, counting his money.

  “Definitely,” I said.

  I pressed my mouth shut, trying not to laugh, and refused to look at Trent’s dark chocolate eyes or I knew I’d crack up. All morning the two of us suckered every guy who came in into buying extra goodies. We didn’t really care about the café making a profit. It was more about working together as a team and a way to amuse ourselves. Two hours later, when we finally got a lull, I was beat.

  “Powered by caffeine,” Trent said, sucking down a shot of espresso he’d let go lukewarm.

  “You and me both,” I said.

  He held out a box of truffles. “Here. Happy Totally-Ruined-and-Commercialized-by-Advertisers-and-Retailers Day of Love.”

  “Oh, wow. A box of truffles. How thoughtful,” I said in a fake sincere voice. “Where did you steal these from?”

  “I’ll have you know,” he said, whipping a receipt out of his pocket, “I paid for those. Yesterday. On my day off. I came in just to get them. In advance.”

  “Did you really?” I asked.

  “Well”—he pushed his hair out of his eyes—“I was actually here to fix the Internet, but I did buy them for you.”

  “Thanks.” I felt way more pleased about it than a girl with a boyfriend should feel. “Want one?” I asked.

  “Hell, yeah, I want one,” he said, imitating LaVon. “Do I look like I’m on a diet?”

  I untied the ribbon, and instead of throwing it away like I should’ve, I tucked it into my apron pocket. We demolished the four truffles while we scrubbed down the espresso machine and counters. It looked like someone had thrown a bucket of coffee over it because we’d been working too quickly to clean up much.

  “So…I was thinking,” Trent said. “We should go out on a date.”

  Oh, crap.

  “A date?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You know…a date. I come to your house, bring flowers to your mom, shake your dad’s hand, say ‘yes sir’ when he tells me your curfew. That sort of thing.”

  “Oh, I…ummm—”

  “Before you say no,” Trent said, “let me elaborate. I was thinking maybe we could fly to France. Have dinner at a sidewalk café. Unless you prefer Milan.”

  “Sounds lovely, but—”

  “I know, I know.…You don’t have a passport, right? That’s okay. We could go for pizza and a movie instead. Boring, but a tried-and-true date. In fact, it might even be the definition of date. Or we could go roller-skating!”

  “Roller-skating?” I asked. Now I was laughing.

  “I haven’t been since junior high, but I am awesome on skates. I can shoot the duck and skate backwards, as long as someone holds my hands. And there’s that really cool mood lighting during couples skate. But you shouldn’t wear a black shirt with a white bra because this one time, in seventh grade, this girl McKensie, she did, and when she skated under the black light, her bra glowed right through her shirt. It was actually kind of cool, but she was embarrassed. Of course, if you don’t mind me seeing your bra, I don’t mind seeing it either. I’m that kind of guy. Very adaptable.”

  He stopped for air, but by then I was doubled over laughing.

  “You know,” he said, after a while, when I was still gasping, “I really love it when I ask a girl out and she laughs in my face. It’s very encouraging.”

  I think, in a way, my laughter was part hysteria because, while I was giggling like that, I was also thinking, What the hell am I going to do? I finally pulled myself together, but just as I was going to make myself answer him, one of the regulars came up to the counter to get a refill. While Trent got her coffee, I told myself very sternly that I had to tell him about Josh.

  After she had taken her drink, Trent turned to me. “So, what will it be? Paris or Skate World?”

  “The thing is…”

  I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I get those four words out? How hard was it to say?

  But do you really have a boyfriend? asked a little voice in my head. Was Josh as committed to me as I was to him? It really didn’t seem like it lately. And if I told Trent I was dating someone else, what would happen here at work? I would hate it if my job became formal and awkward every morning.

  “The thing is,” I tried again, “it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” he asked, but his face had clouded over and instead of melted chocolate, his eyes looked kind of like brown stones.

  “Well—”

  The bell on the door tinkled, and we both looked up to see a delivery guy carrying a huge bouquet of red roses. “I have a delivery,” he said, “for Jamie Lexington-Cross.”

  “Ahhh,” Trent said. “That kind of complicated.”

  I couldn’t leave the flowers in the Beast all day or they might freeze, and I didn’t have time to take them back to the motel, so I carried them into school with me. I knew lots of girls and even some of the teachers would have flowers, so no one would think much of them. Except for the fact that Josh had broken up with me so publicly. I kind of forgot about that aspect until I ran into Krista at the locker.

  “Secret admirer?” she asked, eyeing the dozen roses.

  “Very funny,” I said.

  “Seriously, did Josh send you those?” she asked.

  “Yep,” I said.

  Liz glided up to us. “Nice flowers, Jamie.” As usual, she wore black stretch pants and a tight sweater and looked like she was ready to do an improvised dance down the hallway. “What the hell are you wearing?” she asked Krista.

  “You’d think by now you’d be used to her,” I said. I had barely even noticed her red velvet pants and black corset laced up with a scarlet ribbon.

  “Check out my new ’do,” Krista said, pulling off her newsboy cap. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, but it was now dark purple instead of pink.

  “Nice,” I said. I actually liked it better. It wasn’t so girly.

  “So did your secret admirer give you those roses?” Liz asked.

  “Would you two stop already?”

  “What?” she said. “What’d I say?”

  “Jamie’s touchy about the whole secret admirer thing,” Krista said, fluffing her hair. “I don’t know why.”

  The really annoying thing was I had to go with “secret admirer” all morning because everyone thought Josh and I had broken up and I didn’t know what else to say when my other friends asked who the flowers were from. By lunch, I was regretting having brought them inside at all. If Josh couldn’t give me flowers for Valentine’s like a normal boyfriend, did I even want them?

  The three of us met up in the caf for lunch, and I was pawing through a box of chocolates a freshman had given Krista, trying to find the caramel ones, when she said, “Here comes your secret admirer.”

  “You’re probably in trouble for flaunting your flowers,” Liz said.

  “Oh, please. He’s not that bad.”

  They both raised their eyebrows at me, and I made a face back at them.

  I felt, more than saw, Josh come up behind me. Then he whispered, “I need to talk to you. In private.”

  Krista and Liz both gave me told-ya-so looks.

  I scooted my chair a little so I could look up at him, but I didn’t stand. “Why?”

  “Not here,” Josh said. He crouched down and tied his already tied shoelace. I guess that was supposed to be his cover. And suddenly the whole thing just seemed really stupid to me. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been honestly happy to see Josh. Sometimes I thought it was back before the wedding. Lately, I’d been afraid my annoyance with him was because maybe I kinda, sorta liked Trent, but in that moment, I realized it didn’t even have anything to do with anyone else. Josh was just pissing me off lately. Either he loved me or he didn
’t.

  “Just say what you have to say,” I told him.

  “Why are you carrying the flowers around? Everyone’s saying you got them from a secret admirer. Derrick is going to figure it out.”

  I looked at Josh, hunched over his other shoe now, retying the lace that was so obviously fine, and I lost it.

  “You know, I don’t think Derrick gives a damn about us. He used to cover for us all the time, Josh, remember? We used to sneak off during fellowship meetings, and he would make up stories to tell your parents. Remember that?”

  Josh was standing now, looking around the cafeteria, probably for Derrick. “Shhh…Jamie, people are staring.”

  I pushed my chair back, and it made a screeching sound against the linoleum. Josh cringed. “I don’t care if everyone’s looking at us. Don’t you get it? Either you’re my boyfriend or you’re not. Either you trust your brother to have your back or you don’t. But I’m not someone you can just hide out with in a closet anymore.”

  By now, pretty much everyone around us had gone quiet and was looking right at us. Josh leaned in toward me and said, “Don’t do this. I love you, Jamie.”

  “You don’t act like you love me,” I said much louder than I intended to. But by now, I was tired of holding everything in, and I didn’t really care who heard us. “You want me to sneak around with you, I’m not allowed to call you or send you any e-mails, and my best friends are supposed to act like we broke up just so your parents don’t find out you’re seeing me. That is not a boyfriend, Josh. That is just a screwed-up relationship.”

  “Jamie, just come with me out into the hall—”

  “No,” I said, shaking his hand off my arm. “Either you say you love me loud enough for everyone to hear it, you tell Derrick the roses are from you, and you kiss me right now in front of all these people who clearly can’t concentrate on their lunch anymore, or that’s it. We’re over.”

  He took a step toward me, and I thought he actually was going to kiss me, but then we both saw Derrick come into the cafeteria. Josh ran his hand over his hair, and I swear his eyes looked damp, like he was fighting tears. I almost took him in my arms and told him it was okay. I’d keep his secret, and his scholarship was safe with me, but then Derrick walked up.