A God in Carver
Haven Francis
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2016 by Haven Francis
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
This book is dedicated to my childhood B.F.F., Hollie. We’ve been through so much over the years, I missed you when you were gone, I was so happy when you came back and I hope we never lose each other again. Your friendship and support mean more to me than you’ll ever know.
-Haven
1
“I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth,” I say loud and clear in an attempt to drown out Mom who is doing her best to pretend like she knows the Apostle’s Creed. My voice just gets louder when my sister, Talley, decides to declare her devotion to men and liquor instead of the trinity. By the time we finally say amen the entire congregation has turned around at one point or another to look at us. Which isn’t new. The three of us get looked at a lot for different reasons depending on where we are. Right now it’s because we’re here, at church, which is new for us. And we’re too loud. And all three of us have too much skin showing and in church that means we’re being judged, not lusted over.
The last pair of eyes I see looking at me are Summer Brooks’. I blow her a kiss before sitting back down on the pew. She whispers something to her boyfriend, Brandon Eastman. I wish he would turn and look at me. I’d give him something to look at, but that boy has more morals than any seventeen-year-old should. He’s perfect. They both are. Her high, shiny, brunette pony tail wrapped in a pink ribbon makes me want to puke. Her flower print sundress and proper little white sweater make me want to puke. Her sweet voice makes me want to puke. On Brandon, all his perfection just makes me feel enraged.
What I wouldn’t do to run my nails through that black hair and mess it up, or tear his baby-blue shirt wide open, spilling the buttons all over the floor. Not because I want him but because, for once, I wouldn’t mind if the rest of this town knew what I know – he wasn’t always so damn perfect. I could make some improper words come out from behind his perfect, white teeth. I laugh out loud at that thought and Mom slaps me on my leg.
“What are you slapping me for?”
“Tatum, just… shush. Please,” she mutters.
“Oh my God, Mama, what do you care? You know these people aren’t gonna see us here again until Christmas Eve.”
Talley laughs and old Mrs. Kramer turns her head and scowls at me. Mama lets out an exasperated breath and adjusts the plunging neckline of her red dress to cover up her lace bra. I smirk and shake my head.
I don’t know what she thinks coming to church is going to accomplish. Every time she kicks a guy out of our house she thinks church is gonna set her on a new path that will help her find a decent man. But the only kind of men she’s gonna find here are the ones who pretend to be decent until they decide they want a reprieve from their dried up wives for a few months. She knows she doesn’t really want them either. She prefers working class men with an appetite for beer, steak and stinging palms.
“Go in peace, serve the Lord,” Pastor Dahl says and all three of us let out breaths of relief- service is over. We’re not even pretending that we belong here anymore and don’t bother joining in the rest of the congregation to give thanks to God.
“Can we please get out of here? I’m gonna be late for work,” I tell my mom when she grabs hold of my arm and drags me to the community room for coffee and cookies.
“I say we stay. I see some of my regulars here, I think I should say hi,” Talley says, laughing.
My mom pauses at that. Talley’s a dancer at Lucky Lou’s; the seedy club just outside of Carver’s border where most of these church going family men spend at least a couple nights a month.
“Fine,” I agree, following Talley and dragging Mom into the crowd that parts when they see us coming. Tally heads straight to Bob Brooks whose fat head starts sweating as soon as he sees her. He’s one of her best clients and he’s standing with his family, including Summer. Brandon and his family are, of course, mingling with them.
“Hey, Bobby,” she says, seductively, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He gives her a tight smile and turns to my mom. “How are you, Trish? It’s been a while since we’ve seen you and your girls here.” His diversion doesn’t work, Tally just leans into him and whispers in his ear, causing his face to redden.
Poor Bob is stuck with us but everyone else ignores us except for Brandon. I can tell that he’s taking a step towards me but I don’t look at him until he says, “Hey, Tatum.”
“How’s it going, Brandon?” I know he doesn’t want to be stuck talking to us either, but seriously, he’s way too polite and decent for his own good and if Summer’s man wants to be polite to me, I’ll let him.
“I’m fine. There’s no reason to be anything but fine. I don’t suppose you happened to catch Friday night’s game?”
Brandon is the star quarterback for the Carver Cougars and to him, like most people in this town, there is only one thing more important than God and that’s the almighty game of football. “No, I didn’t. I had a bottle of bourbon that needed drinking,” I tell him just to watch the concern cover his face. I spent Friday night consoling my mom after that asshole Wes slapped her around for the hundredth time because she talked to the UPS guy who was delivering the beer sign he won off eBay. There was a bottle of bourbon that got drunk, but I wasn’t the one drinking it.
“Well, we won. It was a good game. Nash was a force to be reckoned with. I bet he would’ve liked to have seen your face in the crowd.”
“Ha,” I laugh. “That’s sweet, Brandon, but there are all kinds of pretty faces that are only in that crowd for one reason: so that Nash might notice them. He’s got enough support. He doesn’t need me.”
“He cares about you, Tatum. He only messes around with those girls because you’re never around.”
I smile and shake my head. “I don’t think you have it in your sweet little heart to understand what Nash and I want or need. Not everyone wants to play house like you and Summer.”
He cocks his head at me. “I don’t know what happened to the two of you. You guys used to be friends,” he says about me and Summer.
“That was years ago, Brandon. Back when it didn’t matter if you were a cheerleader or a waitress. Or if your daddy owned half the town
or you didn’t have a daddy at all.”
“None of that matters, Tatum. Nash and I are still best friends.”
“Which only works because you guys both play football. I know you want to believe that we’re all the same, but face it Brandon - outside of football, you and Nash are nothing alike and if you weren’t both stars on the Cougar football team you wouldn’t even acknowledge each other.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. It’s cute and also sad that you think it’s not.”
“Hey, Tatum,” Summer says, coming to Brandon’s side and taking a possessive hold of his hand. She gives me a bright, fake as a three dollar bill, smile.
“How are you, Summer?”
“I’m good. It’s nice to see you and your family here. Are you staying for bible study?”
I stare at her for a moment trying to gauge if she’s being condescending or if she’s trying to save my soul. She’s almost as perfect and shiny as Brandon. I guess if there was a mean, bitchy person at Carver High, it would be me. “No, Summer, I’m not. I have to get on over to The End Zone so I can serve y’all after you’re done brushing up on your bible facts.”
“Well you know, we meet on Wednesday nights too. Maybe you could make it then?”
“Sorry, sweetheart, Wednesday’s are one of my most profitable nights – all the women are at church so it gets pretty busy around the Austin house.”
Her mouth pops open before she slaps a hand over it. Satisfied, I turn and grab my mom and Talley by their elbows and drag them to the front door.
“Hey,” Tally mutters, “what are you doing? I was working in there.” She pulls two twenties out of the front pocket of her mini jean skirt. “Bob gave me this to keep my mouth shut. There were at least a dozen more guys I had my eyes on in there,” she says, laughing along with my mom.
“This is the last time you drag me into this house full of hypocrites,” I tell my mom, throwing the front door open. But before I can get through it there is a hand on my shoulder stopping me. I whip around and am face to face with Brandon. “Jesus, Eastman, what do you want?”
“We’ll meet you in the car,” my mom says with humor in her voice.
“Why do you do that?” he asks me with an expression on his face that looks like his puppy just got ran over.
“Do what?”
“Pretend like you’re some kind of drunk whore.”
“I’m not pretending, Brandon. I’m sorry if people like me make you uncomfortable. This is real life, you should get used to it. Maybe someday you won’t be living in this sheltered little town and you’ll realize not everything is shiny and perfect.”
“Come on, Tatum. Don’t give me that crap. I’ve know you my whole life. I know who you really are and you’re not like them. You never were.”
I push his hand off my shoulder and take a step back. “By them do you mean my mom and sister? I’d love to hear what, exactly, you think you know. Do I need to remind you that the last time you and I had a real conversation was when we were twelve? I was naive, like you. But now, I’m happy to say, I’m living in the real world and you don’t know me. If you did, you would know that the last thing I want to be is pretentions, fake and boring like you and your little girlfriend. We may not be who you want us to be, but I am who I am and I am like them and I’m happy about it so find some other sinner to save.”
“Tatum,” he calls as I head out the door.
I flip him the bird and head across the lot, happy to leave that waste of a morning behind me.
“So, Brandon Eastman?” Tally says as soon as I’m in the backseat. “Boy did he grow up to be one fine looking man.”
“Shut up,” I tell her. “You sound just like every other stupid girl at my school. It’s sad.”
“Sensitive,” she chides as she turns back around in her seat.
I choose to ignore her, focusing instead on getting ready for work. As I reach down to my bag I realize my hand is shaking. I grip hard to my brush trying to make it stop but it just seems to get worse. I internally curse myself for letting him get to me.
I know how to ignore Brandon, I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t even think about him anymore. But apparently my body is effected by the fact that he, not only spoke to me, but looked into my eyes, put his hand on me and acted like he has any idea who the hell I am anymore. Asshole. And now I get to go to work and inevitably have to wait on him and his family as Summer sits obediently by his side like she always does on Sunday afternoons.
I hear her sweet voice in my head, inviting me to bible study. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend a leisurely Sunday afternoon discussing theology while being waited on as you snuggle up to your boyfriend and his perfect little family.
It’s hard to imagine I ever had enough in common with that girl to actually like her.
“Come on, Tatum,” my mom slurs as I come out of the shower after washing off a long twelve hour shift.
“Jesus, Mom. Can I have a little privacy?” I say, snapping a towel off the rack and wrapping it around my body.
“We miss you, come dance with us.”
“It’s almost midnight, I’ve been working all day, I have school tomorrow,” I say, pushing past her and into the hallway.
“Let her go, Mom. She’s no fun; she’s just gonna kill my buzz,” Tally says, grabbing my mom’s waist and spinning her around as they dance to the music that’s blaring from the stereo.
“Okay, fine,” Mom agrees. “I love you, baby. I’m so proud of you,” she mumbles around her tongue.
“I love you too,” I say, pointlessly, before shutting my bedroom door. I throw a pair of underwear and a t-shirt on before plopping down on my bed with my messenger bag. Between consoling mom and two double shifts this weekend, I didn’t get any of my homework done.
I pull out A Picture of Dorian Gray – the book I’m forty pages into because every time I start reading it, it puts me to sleep instantly. The book that I have a thousand word essay due on tomorrow. I could probably get Mr. Lawrence to give me an extension but really, what’s the point? It’s not like tomorrow’s gonna be any different than today except that I will have another book assigned to me that I’m never gonna get read. I shove the book back in my bag and pull out my Algebra homework. I stare at the numbers but they all blur together. I’m too tired for this crap. I don’t understand it and staring at it isn’t gonna help.
When my window rattles I look up and see Nash’s strained face as he tries to free the glass from its rotted frame. He sees me staring at him and points his finger to the window like I need assistance trying to comprehend what he might be doing. I point my finger in the direction of the front door. He should know the routine by now. I’m not a normal seventeen-year-old girl whose parents have the sense to protect their daughters from boys like him. I’m sure he’s drunk, maybe he forgot whose window he’s at.
A moment later I hear the door slam and my mom shriek excitedly. She’s always happy to see a cute boy, even if he is only in her house in order to sleep in the bed of her youngest daughter.
He’s out there for so long I think maybe he’s given up on my warm bed in favor of the more fun two thirds of the Austin’s, but when I hear Mom whining I know he’s abandoned her.
He stumbles through my door before closing it behind him and stopping to catch his breath. “Holy shit, Trish is wound up,” he says through a throaty laugh.
“Yeah, well, she’s newly single and you are one fine looking piece of meat.”
“Oh yeah?” he ask, stepping away from the door and coming to my bed, throwing his t-shirt off on the way.
“Trish thinks so,” I tell him as he pounces on top of me and runs a hand up my shirt.
“Your mom is pretty hot.”
I push his hand out of my shirt. “You can’t grope me while talking about my mom, Nash.”
He rolls to his back and pulls my thighs around his waist so that I’m straddling him. “You know you’re the sexiest girl in all of Georgia.”<
br />
“Most boys, when given the opportunity to be with the sexiest girl in Georgia, would have enough sense to know that talking about her mother is just plain stupid. That is, assuming you came here to get a piece of said girl.”
“Come on, now. You know I’m not like that. I came here to talk to you,” he drawls, running his hands up my thighs and over my panties.
I can’t help but run my hands down his chest and over his abs. Nash has got the body of a Greek god and he knows it. “When have you ever come here to talk?”
He sits up and bends his legs so I’m leaned against them. He gives me a quick kiss on my lips before resting his head against the wall. “Brandon stopped over tonight.”
“Doesn’t he stop over just about every night?”
“Yeah, but instead of riding my ass, tonight he was riding yours.”
“Oh, yeah? Let me guess… he’s got some real good ideas about how to save my soul?”
“Why is he suddenly so interested in you?” he asks, like he’s pissed that his best friend was asking about me.
“What? He didn’t tell you? The Austin girls made a trip to church this morning.”
“Yeah, I got that. What I don’t get is why he’s so interested in what you do in your spare time all of the sudden.”
“Isn’t it obvious, Mr. Carter? Being in that holy house just made it so blatantly clear that I’m the biggest sinner of them all. Suddenly he and his little wife think, because we were all friends up until the eighth grade, that it’s their duty to get me off the road to hell that I’m on with you.”
“That’s kind of what he said.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got the feeling he thinks I’m bad for you.”
“He told me I should start watching you play football on Friday nights.”
“He’s right about that. I don’t think you realize that you got a super star in your bed. You could maybe show a little more appreciation,” he says, pinching the skin on my stomach.
I push his hand away and laugh. “Trust me, babe, I’m well aware. Nash Carter, you are a legend in Carver and it doesn’t get much bigger than that.”
A God in Carver (Carver High #1) Page 1
