by Lynn Stevens
The best part about the rest of my weekend: no Gracin Ford. At least, not in the flesh. The worst part: he spent every minute texting me useless orders. Sunday night after I’d already left the theater, he sent a text reminding me to lock the door to his dressing room.
I responded, Forgot. Your fangirls waited outside. I told them to go on in.
Great, they’ll just steal my wardrobe. Not like I need clothes onstage, he texted a second later.
Unfortunately, I made a really dumb mistake in my response. Guess I shouldn’t sell your undies on eBay then?
Who says I wear any?
I didn’t send anything back. It was just an invitation to say something stupid I was sure Gracin would tell or, worse, show my father. Maybe Dad was right, being Gracin’s P.A. would teach me something, like keeping my mouth shut. Not sure I liked this plan. Changing my digits crossed my mind more than once.
Monday morning, Mom shuffled around the kitchen turning her nasty brew into an even nastier latte. I ate my toast slathered in butter and blackberry jam, ignoring the vibrating phone beside me.
“Carly, could you please tell Ivy and Nena to stop texting you so early.” Mom pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “It’s giving me a headache.”
“Then tell Dad not to give my number out, ‘cause it’s not them. It’s Gracin.” Jam fell onto my pinky. I lifted my hand to lick it off, but I didn’t catch it before it hit the leather band on my wrist.
“Honey, you should really call him Mr. Ford out of respect. He’s our guest.” She slammed her mug on the table and shrieked. “What is that?”
I followed her finger to the tat on my wrist. Shit.
“Please tell me you were just doodling? Or that it’s temporary.”
“Um…” Looking Mom in the eye, totally not an option.
“How could you deface yourself, Carly? Your body’s a temple not a canvas!” She fell into the chair beside me and took my hand, tracing her finger over the trinity knot. “What did I do to fail you this way? Did I not teach you anything?”
Sure, Mom. It’s okay to get a nose job and face lift, but God forbid I get a tattoo that means something. Three knots linked represented my two best friends and me. They were always teasing me about being such as sap. In a way, they were right. The tat represented something I wanted to hold onto forever. In hindsight, I should’ve gotten it in a less conspicuous location.
Mom stood abruptly, mumbling under her breath how she needed to lie down. Nena honked outside, and I put my plate in the sink, grabbing my bag on my way out the door. As usual, I’d disappointed my mother.
∞ ∞ ∞
I started my final three days at Branson North High. Hallelujah. High school wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. I did enough to pad my college application and get into U of N.
The day I got the acceptance, I rubbed it in Luke’s face. Unfortunately, Dad didn’t react like I’d hoped. U of N had been his dream school, but he didn’t get in. Neither did Luke. I applied on a whim just to see what would happen, and voila. Sure, Dad said he was proud of me and all, but it didn’t feel like he was. It was more like he couldn’t believe admission passed over his perfect son for his less-than-perfect daughter. Problem was I had no clue what to major in, although business was most likely. If Luke refused to take over the resort, I’d be expected to. Actually, I kind of wanted to run the place. I loved the old resort and the cabins, but I didn’t want to deal with the theater. That place was a money pit with red velvet seats that were as faded as the so-called stars who performed on the stage.
I strolled into the building, enjoying the smell of impending freedom, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, not at all surprised to see a text from Gracin.
I’m out of grapefruit. Bring some over.
No “please.” No “would you be so kind.” No nothing. I started to shove the phone back into my pocket when it buzzed again.
Carly, I know you’re awake. Don’t ignore me.
What an asshole. I hurried to the nearest restroom and called his number.
“Where’s my grapefruit?” he answered. His voice had that just woke up huskiness to it. Even someone immune to his charms and his good looks would swoon at that sound.
“Probably in produce showing the tangerines size does matter.”
The sexy huskiness disappeared. “And how long will it take you to go to the store? I need more than coffee in the morning. If this stuff you bought even qualifies as coffee.”
I ignored the jab at the local roasting company. “About seven to eight hours.”
Gracin’s tone stayed even. “Why is that?”
“I’m not home. Last week of high school and all. Kinda don’t want to miss it.” I drummed my fingers against the metal towel dispenser. “I’m not skipping to get grapefruit.”
“Wait a minute. You’re still in high school?” His shock reverberated down my spine.
A smile slipped onto my face. “Yes, your highness, for three whole days.”
“Oh.” Crickets couldn’t fill the silence, although that would’ve made me grin even more.
“That’s all you’ve got?” I asked when he still hadn’t said anything. The warning bell rang in the hallways, echoing into the empty restroom.
“I’ll text you if I need anything else.” Then he was gone.
True to his word, whenever I checked my phone between classes, there were one or two texts. All of them had to do with stocking his pantry or getting better towels. Like there was anything wrong with our towels. Dad didn’t skimp on stuff like that. He wanted our guests to have quality stays so they’d come back to us and not one of the corporate-owned resorts taking over the area.
By lunchtime though, I was fed up.
“What’re you complaining about, Carly?” Nena dipped her fry into enough ranch dressing to cover two salads. She raised her over-plucked eyebrows at me, widening those dark brown eyes until she resembled a lovesick puppy. “You get to spend all summer doing whatever Gracin Ford wants.”
“Yeah, we know what you’d be doing in her place, Nee,” Ivy said. She pushed Nena’s shoulder hard enough for Nena to drop her fry.
Ivy, Nena, and I had been best friends since sixth grade. We fit together like Legos. Each of us fell into a stereotype, and none of us totally suited them. Nena was the hot one. She played a good game, but the truth was she held onto her virginity like it was the Holy Grail. It seemed unorthodox in this day and age, but I loved her even more for it. No matter how many guys claimed they’d gotten down with her, Nena would simply smile and leave it a mystery. The truth was enough for her.
“More like you, Ivy. Ride ’em like a bronco.” Nena pushed back. They started laughing like cartoon hyenas.
On the other side of the coin was Ivy. Her quiet demeanor fooled most people, but she loved to drink and she loved guys. Her big hazel eyes and strawberry blonde hair combined with her innocence made her the most unlikely sex-fiend on the planet. Ivy was picky, but once she set her sights on a guy, she let her mojo work. If she ever wrote a book of her conquests, it’d be longer than War and Peace.
“Seriously, Carly, you should loosen up. It’s not Golf-A-Round, but it’s still a job.” Ivy popped a chicken nugget into her mouth and grinned.
I was the typical bad girl. Up until Friday, my purple hair, my black-lined eyes, and studded leather anything was the norm. Basically, everything that would irritate my father. Yet, out of the three of us, I pulled down straight A’s and ranked third in our class. Just because I liked to look outrageous, and sometimes be outrageous, didn’t mean I was stupid or lazy. Nope, it meant I was a little bit crazy. I liked crazy. Things were more fun when crazy was involved.
“Yeah, a job I will make no money at.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the back of my chair.
“And whose fault is that?” Nena matched my pose. “I told you to designate a driver.”
I held back the snort. And it wasn’t easy. My gaze slid toward Ivy who glance
d away quicker than a prairie dog into his hole. Nena was clueless about what had really happened. Had I been drinking? Yep, I was toasted. Was I driving? Nope, my designated driver was. I was just too drunk to realize Ivy had crossed the line of sobriety into inebriation.
“Anyway—” I’d avoided telling anyone what had really happened Prom night, and I wasn’t about to start spilling the beans. I’d taken the heat, and, once again, Dad managed to bail me out. It helped that his head of security had pull with the sheriff’s department. “—we’ve worked at Golf-A-Round every summer together. This was supposed to be our swan song.”
“You’re so sentimental. We’ll have time together.” Ivy reached out and put her hand on my arm. “Come the end of August, we won’t even have that.”
“I know,” I muttered. Nena was headed to a small Christian college in Kansas, while Ivy was going to Southeast Missouri State. “I just wanted our last summer to be fun. Memorable even.”
“It will be. We have to make the best of it, that’s all.” Nena squeezed my arm and let go as my phone vibrated again.
It buzzed four more times before I could read the first text.
I need my dressing room stocked with bottled water, not the water cooler. Somebody could slip something inside a water cooler.
When you get the grapefruit, get me two cases of water.
Make it three cases. And don’t get generic, backwoods water. Don’t forget the receipt.
Add a loaf of nine-grain bread. Do they have that here?
If they have Perrier, get that too.
I read each text twice, growing angrier after each word. Who did this guy think he was?
Nena waved her hand in front of my face. “Carly, are you okay?”
“Yeah, it looks like you lost your place at U of N or something,” Ivy added.
Nena scoffed, “That’s probably the one thing that would piss her off this bad.”
“Well, or her dad.” Ivy nibbled on another nugget.
The mention of my father almost stopped me. Almost. I’d dealt with his screaming, his anger, his absolute disappointment in me enough over the years. I could deal with it again. Even if Gracin fired me. I slammed my thumb into the touch screen to dial Gracin’s number.
“Hel-”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I asked, my voice rising enough that the tables around us stopped to listen. “No, don’t answer that. I’ll tell you. You think Branson is some hick town with no class and no taste. You think you’re doing us a favor by simply being here. Well, let me tell you something, buddy, you need us as much as we need you. So stop with the ridiculous condescending demands and get over yourself.” I didn’t take a single breath during my tirade so, by the end, it sounded soft and less mean. My teeth ground against one another as I waited for his response. Gracin could’ve hung up for all I knew, but something told me that wasn’t his style. “Well?”
“Are you done?” he asked, calmer than he should be after being waylaid by my verbal tidal wave.
“I’m sure I could come up with a few more things, but I’m in school,” I said. The list of his transgressions grew in my head.
“What’s it like?” he asked softly.
Talk about a slap in the face. That was one question I never expected. “What?”
After a couple of downbeats, he sighed heavily into the speaker. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. I promise to do my best not to text you the rest of the day, okay?”
“Okay?” I said it more as a question. Something felt off about this whole exchange. I expected a fight from the male diva, not a quick agreement. “I will call you when I’m leaving to see if you need anything else.”
“I’ll make a list.”
The line went dead. I looked up at Nena and Ivy. They shrugged in unison, a very bad habit they’d developed over the years and one I would miss. The noise around me picked back up as someone tapped my shoulder with more force than required. I glanced over my shoulder to see Principal Gibbons glaring at me.
“You’re well aware of the rule about cell phones, Miss Reynolds.” He held out his hand and waited for me to drop my precious phone into his palm. When I didn’t give in, he wiggled his fingers.
The argumentative side of me kicked in. “Mr. Gibbons, the cell phone rule applies to the time during class periods. If I remember correctly, the student handbook clearly states cell phone usage is prohibited during each educational class period, but students are allowed to utilize cell phones between classes. As this is not an educational period, cell phone usage is not prohibited.”
Mr. Gibbons stared at me for a full ten seconds, and for about two of those, I thought he’d let me keep my phone. He wiggled his fingers again.
“My logic is sound,” I said as I dropped the phone into his hand.
“Yes, it is, but policy is policy. One day I hope you use your powers for good and not evil.” He smiled and leaned down closer. “Take a serious look at pre-law, Miss Reynolds. You would do well on the right side of it for a change. You may stop by my office after school and retrieve your phone. After all, you know where I keep them.”
Mr. Gibbons nodded to my friends. Turning on his heel, he strode toward a table full of freshmen who were all huddled over someone’s tablet. They were being too obvious.
“He’s never going to let you live that down, is he?” Ivy wiped her hands on the wet wipe she always had with her. Germs freaked her out.
“Well, he’s only got two more days to remind me about it.”
Nena laughed and snorted at the same time. “Carly Reynolds, genius and criminal. You totally cemented your legacy at B North. Even the freshmen have heard about your daring break-in sophomore year. Too bad you got caught.”
“It’s not much of a break-in when the door to the office isn’t locked,” I reminded them.
The bell rang, signaling the end of our last Monday lunch period. It felt liberating and sad at the same time. I was glad the year was almost over, but it meant changes I didn’t want to make. Like losing Ivy and Nena. We’d always be friends, but we all knew our lives were changing for good. We’d lose touch, eventually just being friends on whatever social media site ruled the internet ten years from now.
We strolled through the halls toward our next class, which we all had together. Wisely, Mr. Anderson had separated us at the beginning of the semester so we’d actually study during study hall. Since it was the last week of school, he didn’t care where anybody sat. Senior privileges and all that jazz.
We took over the desks by the windows. While Nena and Ivy reminisced about a party from our freshman year, which coincided with Luke’s senior year, I tried not to listen. Nena had gotten us invited by flirting with Todd Higgins, quarterback of the football team. Back then, she’d only started perfecting her skill, but it was already devastating for unsuspecting guys. I didn’t want to tag along on their trip down memory lane. That party was the one thing from high school I’d like to believe never happened. The suspension, the detentions, all of those I would triple if I could forget that night. Unfortunately, it was burned into my brain and my heart forever, like a brand announcing my stupidity, my carelessness. If only I could find a genie in a bottle to wish it away, but my wishes never come true.
CHAPTER THREE
The photo hit the tabloids Wednesday. The ten-sentence blurb accompanying it made page twelve, and it was enough to bring some paparazzi to town. They staked out the theater, and I had to turn into a jungle adventurer to get through the bodies. If only I had a machete.
“Hey, do you work here?” one guy asked, shoving a microphone in my face.
I pushed it away only to have it replaced with another one. By the time I got to the door, they hovered around me like starving vultures. The security guards held them back.
“Have you seen Gracin Ford drunk?” another guy shouted over the din.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I should’ve kept on walking. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.
Spinning around, I sho
ved between the two security guards and held up my hands. The paparazzi stopped, holding their breath for the scoop.
“The only thing I’ve seen Gracin Ford drink is water.”
Their cameras dropped at once.
“How do we know you’re not lying?” a woman asked.
I shrugged. “Guess you don’t. But the only thing you’re going off of is a photo some vindictive ex-girlfriend took three months ago.”
“Are you the new girlfriend?”
I laughed hard enough to clutch my side. “Not even close.”
My father pulled into the parking lot, distracting the crowd. I made my getaway into the theater and turned the corner toward the stairs, slamming into Gracin. He grabbed my arms to keep me from falling. My forehead rested on his shoulder too long to be polite. Or impolite since I’d run into him. He dropped his hands and took a step back.
“I overheard what you said.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, opening them as he exhaled the same way. Honestly, boredom started to set in while I waited for whatever thoughts circulated in his mind. “Thank you.”
“What?” My throat closed around the word, cutting off the T.
“You heard me, Carly.” He stared over my shoulder toward the still open door. We stood far enough inside nobody would see us. “They’ll go away in a day or two, once they realize there isn’t a story here. You may have helped make it faster.”
I glanced back at the crowd. Dad stood center stage, and I had no doubt he was telling the paparazzi the same thing.
“They feed off other people’s misery.” Gracin settled his gaze back to me. There was a sadness about him I’d not seen. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get …”
“Get what?”
He shook his head and turned around. I stared at his retreating back, waiting for the answer I’d probably never get.
∞ ∞ ∞
Graduation had seemed so far away when I was a freshman. Saturday morning, it loomed over my head like a gray cloud that may or may not rain at any given moment. Gracin had texted the night before reminding me to be at the show by six for the opening night sell-out. Like I’d forget.
