by Tina Ferraro
“You’re probably asleep. I’m back at the beach—long story—and you know that Nose Ring guy you play cards with? He and some people just,” I said, quickly considering my words, “ripped me off. If you get this tonight, call me back. It’s super important.” Then I disconnected and pitched the phone on the seat beside me.
The empty seat.
The sight of which slammed at me the enormousness of my bad choices. I had made a mockery out of one of the few truly good things in my life—my job—by sneaking into my employer’s store, taking his property, and allowing it to be stolen. I would be fired for sure. And I couldn’t begin to imagine what was worse: losing my job and its refuge from the stresses of my life, or Phillip’s respect.
The traffic light turned green and I gunned it through the intersection. The painter’s truck was nowhere in sight, and even though the street was flat and fairly well-lit, there was no saying I’d ever see it again. It could have raced on ahead. Turned. Pulled into a parking lot. Just about anything.
Blowing out a sigh so hard I risked cracking the windshield, I wondered what they wanted with a mannequin, anyway. Was it just an impulse grab, made easy by the fact I’d been in too much of a hurry to lock the doors? Were they thinking cash value? Or maybe to prank the S.B. High faculty by bringing it to the dance as someone’s date?
No, wait. Pretending the mannequin was alive was my special talent. These guys were trouble, but I was pretty sure I was the only one riding that crazy train.
Most important was that they not hurt him—or ruin him or break him or whatever. I mean, sure, he was only fiberglass and hinges, but he was Phillip’s property and he belonged in the shop window.
Two, three more blocks blurred by me. Still no sight of the truck, which meant rolling into Plan B. Whatever the heck that was. I only knew it included Adam. He could maybe text them or at least second-guess them.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t calling back, and I had no idea where he and his mom even lived these days.
I did, however, know how to find out, and I had to keep my thoughts positive, on what I could do. When I faced up to Phillip in the morning, I needed to honestly report that I’d tried everything in my power to get his property back, to show him I wasn’t really thoughtless, selfish and flighty.
Even though it might look that way. And right now how it felt.
Minutes later, my heart still thrashing, I was standing out front of our townhouse. The door was locked and the interior lights were out. And while I thought I should feel some kind of relief over presumably not getting “caught” for the late hour or driving alone, my panic only increased. Was my dad even here? Had he decided to spend the night at Jennifer’s?
Once inside, I was met with a harsh snorting noise, one so annoying that I usually shut my bedroom door to block out. But right now his snoring was as comforting as a bowl of mac and cheese. I followed its static into the den, where I found my dad sawing logs in his La-Z-Boy recliner, his head lolled over by the dimly lit lamp.
He’d waited up for me. Sorta. Well, at least, he hadn’t gone to bed. On tonight of all nights. This was huge.
Whether it was that gesture, my stress, my exhaustion, or all three, when I went to speak his name, my voice came out all high-pitched and thick in a sudden well-up of tears.
He jerked awake, his pupils resizing. “Courtney?” Then his gaze focused on me and he saw me. Really saw me. “Courtney!” Lurching forward, he made a two-handed lunge for my upper arms. “Talk to me! Are you okay?”
Every fiber of my being wanted to wipe my tears, brave a smile and my control act. Because that’s who I was: Number One Daughter. Maid. Caregiver.
At that moment, I had no interest in being that girl.
“I’m okay,” I choked out. “But I need your help.” I gulped. “Daddy.”
Chapter 18
My father shot out of his recliner, the low light doing nothing to dim the panic sparking in his eyes. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” I made an attempt at swallowing back my tears. “It—it’s about Adam.”
“Adam?” He squinted hard, as if trying to reconcile his friend’s son with my bonfire date with Randy. I had to give him credit for that. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. I need to talk to him and I think he’s turned off his phone. I don’t know where he and his mom are living now, but if you could just call Chuck?”
“Call Chuck?” He glanced at the wall clock, then back at me. “It’s after one, Courtney. I’m sure this can wait until morning.”
I stepped closer. As much as I wanted to avoid a wholly heartfelt confession, I had to let him know what was at stake. “Tomorrow is too late. See, some people stole Phillip’s window mannequin tonight, and I think Adam might know how to get it back. Before it’s, you know, damaged or something. And before Phillip finds out.”
He blinked in rapid succession. “If there’s been a break-in, we need to call the police.”
“No, not the police.”
“Why in the world not?”
“Because the mannequin wasn’t stolen from the shop.” I grimaced. “It was stolen from my car.”
“Your car?”
Unfortunately, there was no stopping now. “Well, you know how you told me not to drive alone after midnight? I was using the mannequin as an escort so I didn’t look alone.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I know, weird idea, right?”
His top lip hitched into a scowl, nearly blinding me with his pearly whites. “Let me get this straight. You broke into the tuxedo shop after hours and stole the mannequin?”
“I had a key,” I managed in a small voice. “And I was going to bring it back.”
His face took on a ghostly pallor, not unlike how he’d looked when he’d first found out my mom left. I had to get this conversation back on track. Fast.
“Adam is my best bet at finding the mannequin. And if it’s still in good shape, maybe I can put it back into the window before Phillip shows up in the morning. And he’ll never know. And I wouldn’t lose my job.”
“Lose your job? Is that what you’re worried about?” My father’s brows arched into a perfect V. “For crying out loud, Courtney, I’m thinking you’re going to get arrested and sent to Juvenile Hall!”
The room went wavy before my eyes. Arrested—me? No, Phillip would never do that. I mean, we were pretty close, as far as bosses and employees went. He’d loaned me the dress, given me time off for lunch with Adam and to prep for the dance. He knew how badly I wanted to go to St. Ansgar’s. We were almost like friends. And you didn’t get your almost-friends arrested for stupid, thoughtless but not intentionally mean things. Right?
Still, as my dad yanked his cell phone from his pants pocket, I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, wondering how and why I’d changed. I was the daughter he could count on to take care of things—even take care of him. And here I’d done something he couldn’t begin to comprehend.
How would this change our relationship now?
“Hey, Chuck,” my dad’s voice said, piercing into my thoughts. “Sorry to wake you, but Courtney needs to talk to Adam. Something about lost property.” He paused in silence while I tried to remember how to breathe. “Tried that. Says his phone is off.” He went quiet again, then said, “Got it. Thanks.”
His gaze fled back at me. “11843 Laurelwood Drive, 1D.”
I knew Laurelwood—it was mostly apartments. I’d gone over there for group projects.
My dad put his phone away. “Apparently his mother turns her cell off at night, too and there’s no land line. Since it’s an emergency, you’re going to have to go over.”
I nodded, half-wanting to commemorate this father/daughter moment, of how I’d asked, and how he’d been there for me. But the clock was ticking. “Thanks, Dad,” I said, then turned to jam out of the room.
“You know where that is? The address?”
His voice stayed at an even decibel range. I wasn’t entire
ly shocked when he appeared in my peripheral vision, keeping pace with me.
“Yeah. It’s not all that far.”
Reaching the front door, I reached for the handle. Only to have his long arm reach it first and pull it open.
“You’re walking me down to the car?”
“I’m going with you.”
I squinted while my thoughts settled. “Right. I’m not allowed to drive alone after midnight.”
His voice went gruff. “Courtney Lauren Walsh, you are not allowed go out alone right now—period. I want to know what you got yourself into and why. You’re going to tell me every detail so I can try to get out of this without a mug shot.”
My breath backed up in my lungs.
“Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Dad,” I said, even though given the choice of spilling my guts to my father, or say, shaving my head with Saffron or making out with scummy Science would have been a tough one. The only way to make my dad understand why I’d taken Tux out of the shop was to expose my secret “relationship.” And while I knew it was half-cocked at the time, it seemed almost “call the men in the white coats” now.
Hey, it’s not like keeping Tux quiet had worked for me, had prevented me from all this trouble. What else did I have to lose? Certainly not my father’s attention.
* * *
We took my dad’s two-seater. He drove.
I talked. And it seemed like once I started, I couldn’t stop. I told him about the softball team’s drinking, which slid me right into getting the job with Phillip. And brought me to Tux. Instead of pausing to gather my thoughts, I simply let loose. As mortifying as it was, I admitted I’d been pretending the mannequin was my “starter boyfriend.”
“I mean, since he’s basically a normal height and everything,” I continued as we cruised through the darkened night. “And the best possible listener.”
In the illumination of the dashboard, I could see a muscle quirk in his jaw. “And then suddenly, you had two boys after you. That Homecoming kid and Adam.”
“Oh, not Adam...”
“I saw the way he was looking at you at dinner the other night.” He steered into a turn. “It’s like your mother used to say. The best way to get a guy is to already have one.”
That was so totally out of left field that all I could manage was a shake of my head.
“That’s how we got together.” His voice lost its edge. “Your mom and me.”
My eyes about popped out of their sockets. Unprovoked mention of my mother, and in almost a nostalgic way? Had the world spun off its axis?
“Back at St. Ansgar’s, she’d had a crush on this...nerd whose idea of a good time was solving equations with her in chalk on sidewalks.” He groaned. “For some reason, she was desperate to take things to the next level with him. She and I were just friends, but she asked me to come around him and flirt with her to make him jealous.”
“Did you?”
He nodded.
“It worked?”
“Sure. Trouble was, by the time that guy woke up, she and I were together for real.”
I had no words for this. No words. For not only did that have nothing whatsoever to do with what I was going through, I couldn’t help thinking my dad was missing something huge here. He was a pretty big nerd, too. Had my mom used my dad to jump-start things with the math geek—or had it been the other way around? Who had she been playing?
I shifted inside my seat, a smile teasing at my mouth. Perhaps most staggering of all was the idea that my father had been considered a catch—maybe even a hottie.
I almost wished I could talk to my mom about it, get the female perspective, learn the truth about their good old days.
But for now, it was back to bad new days for me. I had to give him kudos for trying to relate. “Thanks, Dad. It’s great to know you, well, understand what I’m going through.”
“What I still don’t get, though,” he said, throwing me a look, “was why you went to the shop tonight in the first place.”
Spotting the street sign for Laurelwood, I pushed the rest of that conversation off for later. (Or never, if I got lucky.)
“Turn here,” I told him.
Then my stomach clenched. For not only was knocking on Adam Hartnett’s door right now the single most awkward act of my entire seventeen years, but what would I do if he couldn’t help me?
Chapter 19
Adam stood in his doorway, question marks flashing in his eyes. Even in baggy sleep pants, a stretched out t-shirt and with a raging case of bed-head, he looked good. Damn good. Damn him.
I was pretty sure the heat pulsing my cheeks was mostly from my ongoing panic. Not to mention embarrassment for the belly flop I’d taken earlier on his bod.
“Uh, hi?” Adam said, taking in the sight of my dad and me in one confused swoop.
“I’m really sorry, Adam,” I managed. “This will only take a minute.”
“We appreciate you seeing us,” my dad added, low and quiet.
I did an awkward throat clear. “I just need you to call that guy with the nose ring—the one you were playing cards with that day—and see what he’s done with the mannequin he stole from my car.”
“Cody?”
“No, Tux. Oh,” I said and slapped my forehead. “Cody is your friend. Sorry. Yes. The guy who was at the bonfire tonight with the zirconium stud.”
“Cody.” He frowned. “He seriously stole your mannequin? The one from the window in your shop?”
“He and some friends,” I said, nodding and hoping we could skip over the wheres and whys so we could get to the helps.
“He was in your car?”
“It’s a long story.” One even my father hadn’t heard. And no one would hear, if I had my way. “Could you just call him, and see,” I said, feeling my throat thickening, “what he’s done with it?”
Adam backed up to let us in. Flicking on a light switch, he took long strides toward a magazine-covered coffee table, and his cell phone.
I shifted my weight on the carpet while Adam’s phone booted and he punched in some numbers.
“Yo, dude,” Adam was soon saying. “What’s happenin’?” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Cool. Hey, I hear you made a rare score tonight, like some six feet of paint and plastic.”
Fiberglass, but whatever.
“Yeah,” he said after a long break. “Yeah. In fact, she’s right here. With her dad. You want to talk to her?”
I leaned in, my adrenaline spiking—boy did I want to give this guy a piece of my mind!—only to have Adam turn away. “No, dude, no police,” he said into the receiver. “They came to me instead.”
“Tell him,” my dad broke in, “that as long as we get the mannequin back now, we won’t press charges.”
Adam repeated this into the phone, the pucker of his jaw telling me he liked what he was hearing. “Good deal, dude. See you on the beach.”
He hung up and his gaze zapped to mine. “They left it on the principal’s lawn, as a senior prank. He told me the address, but asks we keep it all quiet so his friends won’t know the prank didn’t actually go down.”
Relief burst brilliantly inside me. I kind of wanted to throw my arms around him, but knew better. I settled with a sigh and a smile.
He shifted his gaze to my dad. “He said Principal Hioki lives in Sunset Estates, on a corner house. Shouldn’t be too hard to find, especially with a mannequin on the lawn.”
“Thanks for helping us,” my dad said, and went to follow up with a handshake.
Adam had already bent down. To slip his feet into sandals. “Come on,” he said, then straightening up. “I know a short cut.”
* * *
Moments later, we were back on the road, my dad behind the wheel, Adam and me buckled up together inside the passenger seat. Moving past the obvious body-to-body mortification and the fact we were the world’s oddest cavalry, I couldn’t help wondering how we’d fit Tux in this two-seater. But then I decided to worry about it
later. Circus clowns jammed lots of people inside those tiny cars, and everybody had a grand old time, right?
Adam must have been on a similar wavelength because he leaned forward to throw a look at my dad. “You guys like small cars, huh?”
“Fuel efficient,” my dad responded.
“Cute.” I added.
My dad’s brow wrinkled. “Speak for yourself, daughter.” Then he sort of smiled, giving me the head-thunk that he probably thought his sports car was cool, maybe even proof that he wasn’t just a nerdy old guy. But in order to think that, he’d have to realize how he came off to people. He’d have to have some kind of self-image radar.
A conversation with my mom about him was getting more appealing all the time. Once I got over the idea of actually having to speak to her.
Sunset Estates sat up against a oceanside bluff, one of those communities where they had anal retentive rules about how long the grass could grow and what colors you could paint your house. Driving under the entrance archway, I stretched to scan all yards—especially corner lots.
“There,” my dad said with quiet certainty after we’d made a first turn. He pulled over to curb.
Adam and I unbuckled and scrambled out the door.
The night air excited goosebumps on my skin, or maybe they came from the cold shock of separating from Adam’s body. In any case, I went from bumpled to crumpled as we broke into crouched runs up and across the manicured lawn.
Adam reached Tux a beat or two before me, yanking him from a sitting position on an inflated inner tube. It wasn’t until he got the mannequin upright that I saw Tux’s pants were down around his ankles, and I “got” the toilet-like reference, the way those idiots had posed him as a statement to the principal.
Jerks!
Anger lanced through me as I yanked the thirty-eight long style 02116 tuxedo pants back into place and fastened the belt, but so did a stern voice, reminding me that all that really mattered was that we’d found him. That he seemed to be in good working shape. This could have been enormously worse.
