by Susan Soares
Devin took his forehead off mine and gently kissed my lips. “I should get you home,” he said before he walked back to the car. As I stood there alone in the warm summer air, another chill washed over me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’d been lying on the couch for an hour. After Devin dropped me off, I tried to keep busy by reorganizing the linen closet. And reorganizing the medicine cabinet. And reorganizing my dresser drawers, but nothing could take away the nagging feeling that crept all through my body. I needed to eat. Improvising a recipe I’d seen on the cooking channel, I made a batch of butterscotch pecan fudge brownies. The end result was gorgeous. Almost too beautiful to cut into. Almost. The combination of the butterscotch and fudge melted across my palate, easing away the feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one that was always there on alert, ready to take over at any given moment. The one I constantly fought with. Mr. Dobson was overjoyed at the tasty treats. He could never move or die. He was my savior in a way, and he didn’t even know it.
“Hello my little wench,” Fiona sung as she entered the apartment. “How was the party?”
I rolled to my side and stood up. “Eventful,” I said, walking towards my bedroom. “I’m going to lie in bed for a while.” And question everything about my life.
“Screw that,” she said as she crossed and stood before me. “I’ve seen this woe is me look before.” She motioned to my face. “So the party sucked, I’m assuming. So what? It’s a kid’s party. Who cares? Did you have any more success walking the dogs today?”
“They’re gone for the next week. Casper had to do some publicity thing in L.A. so he needed his whole pack.” A week without the dogs was both good and bad. Good that it would give my forearms a break from all the pulling they endured during a walk, but bad because it left me with even more time on my hands—never a good thing.
“Well, let’s go get a coffee or something.”
I opened my mouth to object, but before I could speak, she added, “And you’re not going to pussy out of it. So slap on some lip gloss, and I’ll go change.” She spun on her heel and walked to her room as she pulled her top off over her head.
Knowing Fiona, I knew that if I didn’t go willingly, she’d take me along forcibly. So I dabbed on some mauve lip gloss and waited for her to take the lead and I’d follow.
***
There was something off about Perked. It wasn’t until I sat in my booth that I realized it. One table away from me, there was a cleared out area. It used to have a table that sat four, but the table and chairs were gone. Instead, there was a small throw rug on the ground, a stool, a mic stand, and a small amplifier.
“What’s going on over there?” Fiona asked as she sat down across from me.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It wasn’t here this morning.” Whatever it was for, I wasn’t happy with its proximity to my area.
Fiona swirled a coffee stirrer around her cup over and over again. “So there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” She took a small sip of her drink while keeping her eyes glued to the table.
My stomach instantly twisted. Whenever someone sits you down to “talk,” it’s almost never a good thing. I allowed myself a deep inhalation and exhalation before saying, “What’s up?” in a super casual manner.
She tucked her blond bob back behind her ears. “So I’m going back to school,” she said before immediately sipping her coffee. Her eyes cast towards the window.
This was kind of a shock coming from Fiona. She swore she’d never go back to college. “Really?” I needed to be supportive. “Well, that’s great. Congrats!” I touched my cup to hers in a cheers motion.
“That’s kind of not all.” She gnawed for a moment on her thumbnail, smudging her lip gloss. “I want you to come with me.”
Ba-bam! There was the wrecking ball I didn’t see coming. “No thanks.”
“Just hear me out. I talked to my mom and your dad about this.”
“What? When?” I was upset that she’d gone to them behind my back, especially to discuss my future.
She shook her head. “I went over there to see how my mom was. Don’t worry about that. The point is I was stupid to have left school after earning my associates degree. I mean, you can’t do shit with an associate’s degree. I know that now. Hell, I don’t want to be making all my money off my ass. I mean I have a brain, you know—”
“You do? I’ve always been too distracted by your ass to notice.”
Fiona threw a sweetener packet toward my face, which I deflected with my hand. “Ha ha, Miss Funny Pants. Listen. Janet’s paying for me to go back, and Jack is one hundred percent ready to pay for you too. You know that.”
I shook my head and took a sip of my drink as my legs bounced up and down under the table.
“Mallory, think of it this way. We can go to the same school. It won’t be like you’re doing it alone. I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, two years ahead of me. We won’t be in the same classes. And I know my father only agreed to pay for business school.”
“So what’s wrong with business school? That’s what my degree is in, and that’s what I’m going to finally get my bachelors in. Jack’s right, you can’t make a career out of walking those stupid dogs.”
I shot her a glare, and she averted her eyes from mine. How dare she throw my father’s words at me!
College only made me think of Haley. We both received our letters in the mail the same day. She didn’t want us to open them separately, so I drove over to her house so we could open them at the same exact time. We were both accepted to Grand View University. We were both going to major in liberal arts. We were both unsure of what we wanted from our futures. But we knew that the only way we’d survive college was if we were in it together. In high school, we were each other’s yin and yang. If there was a subject Haley didn’t have all the answers on, I’d help her pick up the slack, and vice versa. Each test that we’d freak out about, we’d collaborate with each other, having sleepover cram sessions complete with pig-out hours. Of course those pig outs led to binge-and-purge sessions. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to take courses and study and cram without her. Or without the rituals we’d set up. There was no way to explain that to my dad or even Fiona. The truth was that I was scared shitless.
“Look, I’m sorry about the dogs comment. I know you like that job for whatever reason. But you and I both can do so much more with our lives. It’s time to do it. So what do you think? I’ll be there for you.” She put her hand out face up on the table and waited for me to place mine on top of hers. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not now.
“I’ll have to think about it.” Even though it was a lie, I tried my hardest to make it sound sincere.
She nodded as she slowly moved her hand away. Her lips curved up into a complacent smile. The kind that kids give their parents when they ask for something and the parent says, “Maybe, if you’re good.”
As I took a sip of my coffee, I heard someone clearing her throat to the right of me.
“Ahem, hello, everyone?” Eliza said into the microphone. “We are excited to announce that Perked will now feature live music! Please give a steaming warm Perked welcome to Jude Coleton!” She clapped and moved to the side as a guy with a guitar sat on the small stool.
He had wavy, flaxen hair that landed just above his shoulders, like the kind of effortless hair surfers had. He wore faded jeans and a black t-shirt. He pulled the microphone stand closer to him. “Hey all. I’m Jude Coleton.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but the blank stares of the crowd put an end to it. Instead, he just started strumming out a mellow riff on his guitar.
“Live music at Perked?” I asked.
Fiona sat back in her chair and gave Jude the once over. “If all the musicians look like him, I don’t have a problem with it.” She licked her lips.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who seemed smitten. Eliza had been wiping down the same spot on the counter for at least a minute. She couldn’t take h
er eyes off Jude.
“You’re not the only one,” I said, making a gesture to Eliza.
“I’ll fight her for him. You know what they say? Musicians have big—”
“Bank accounts?”
She formed her mouth into a viperish smile before saying, “No, silly, they have small bank accounts, but big cocks.”
“Here, here!” We clinked cups to musicians and their extremities everywhere.
***
When we got back to our apartment, I locked myself in my room and called Devin. With each unanswered ring, my heart beat faster and harder. The sound of his deep voice shot through me like a bolt, even though it was only his voicemail. I hung up before leaving a message. Maybe the party was still going on. Maybe he was helping his mother clean up. Maybe he was having it out with his father. Maybe he was destroying the gun his father had bought for Kyle. The day had been weird. What was up with his father? Why would he want to flaunt the fact that Devin was in the war? Had he killed people? It was something I’d never really thought about before. Knowing he was in the war and imagining him in the war were two separate thoughts. I couldn’t picture him in the thick of it with a gun in his hands. I didn’t want to picture it. So I didn’t. What were the things he wanted to say to me? Was he hiding something major? Had he gone AWOL or something?
My head started to hurt, so I rubbed my temples in slow methodic circles. There were too many questions, too many thoughts. I’d thought it had only been a few minutes, but looking at the clock, I realized I’d been lying on my bed thinking for a few hours. I picked up my phone and dialed Devin. On the fourth ring, his voicemail picked up again. There was nothing for me to say. I didn’t know what was going on, and I didn’t know what might set him off or push him away. Tossing my phone on my bed, I rolled to my side and stared at the wall. I tried to force my eyes to close, but they wouldn’t. That itching feeling began to make its way all over my body. I needed a release.
With soft feet, I plodded out of my room to the hallway. Fiona’s door was shut, and I could hear her white-noise playlist through her door. The sounds let me know that she was already asleep. Once the babbling brooks and twittering birds started to play, she was out like a light. I walked to the kitchen, knowing I didn’t have a lot of time or a lot of ingredients. It was also going to be too late to bring anything over to Mr. Dobson.
With a quick flick of the cabinet door, I revealed some basics: sugar, maple syrup, brown sugar, vanilla. Struggling for an idea, I finally came up with something. Grabbing the brown sugar and vanilla with one hand and some butter from the fridge, I dumped all the ingredients into a saucepan. My mouth salivated as the mixture turned to caramel within minutes. Once set, I didn’t bother to transfer it to a container to cool. Instead, I just let the blazing hot caramel burn my tongue spoonful after spoonful until I couldn’t even taste it because my tongue was so fried. With lots of soap, I scrubbed the pot and the spoon clean before setting them on the counter to dry. Then I slowly headed back to bed. When I lay down, I saw I’d missed a text message on my phone. It was from Devin.
Sorry today was a mess, it said.
I swallowed hard and responded, No problem.
It was best to act casual over text. No reason to start something up at that point. And maybe if he thought I was casual about the whole thing, he’d be more likely to open up to me about all the mysterious things he had to tell me.
Thanks. His text read. I’ll make it up to you next weekend okay?
I texted back a smiling emoticon and the word perfect.
And I really hoped it would be.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
All week long, Devin had been hinting at the upcoming weekend. Saying little things like “You just wait,” and “You’re not even ready for it,” and “If you only knew what you were in for.”
We hung out a few different days during the week, getting coffee, going to the book store, and he’d just randomly stop and grin at me with this I’ve-got-a-secret face. When asked what he was thinking about, he’d wink at me and add a little comment like, “Your face. I just can’t wait to see your face.” It was maddening.
Finally, it was the day of our big date. I’d texted him and asked how I should dress. He said comfortably. So I went with dark wash skinny jeans, leopard-print flats, and a purple fitted t-shirt. I tossed my hair up into a high ponytail, leaving some long, brown, wavy tendrils out to frame my face. For my makeup, I went neutral with glowing skin and warm-toned eye shadow. I dabbed on some cherry-colored gloss that made my lips look plump and juicy. Perfect for enticing Devin into a kiss. Not that he needed much enticing.
“Why are you so hot?” he said when I opened the door. A moment later, his mouth was on mine; warm and soft. He had the softest lips I’d ever kissed.
“Just doing my job,” I said before biting his bottom lip.
He moaned and pulled himself back from me. “No. You and your wily ways will not entice me now. I have plans for you, my pretty.”
I cocked a curious smile at him as I grabbed my purse and followed him out the doorway.
We drove into the night. Devin sat with a perpetual smile on his face, just like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. To distract myself, I looked around the inside of his car. It was neat. Much neater than mine. A stack of library books sat in the back seat. He had books on Apollo 11, the American Revolution, and John F. Kennedy.
“I know your secret,” I said in a singsong voice.
Devin’s head whipped towards me as he pulled up to a stop. “There’s no way you found out.”
“You, my friend, are into history.” I pointed towards the books in the backseat.
Devin let out a sigh. “Ah, you found me out.” He began driving again. “Yeah, I’m a bit of a history buff. Just something to pass the time, I guess. Better than video games right?”
“Much better.”
“Kyle hates the fact that when I have the TV on, it’s usually on The History Channel. But hey, maybe some of it will sink in for him. Give him a leg up in school or something.”
God, he was cute. Hot, smart, caring, buff, sensitive. I wanted to rip his clothes off and taste every inch of him. We turned onto the highway. Interesting.
After driving a good fifteen minutes, Devin leaned over and opened up the glove box pulling out something small and black that looked like cloth. “So I’m going to need you to put this on,” he said handing it to me.
Once in my hands I realized it was an eye mask. “You keep a blindfold in your glove box?” Sure, that’s not creepy at all.
“Only for special occasions.” He winked at me. “Just put it on.”
My anxiety didn’t do well with my eyes being shut off from the light. “Does this mean we’re close?”
“Very. Now get to it.” He nudged the eye mask in my hand.
Reluctantly, I placed the fabric over my eyes and watched the world go black.
As if sensing my primal fear, Devin grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I’m right here.” His voice was soft like cotton balls, and somehow I felt better, safer.
***
Devin announced our arrival but insisted I keep the mask on just a little bit longer. I heard him cut the engine, get out of his side of the car, and open my car door. He took my hand and guided me up and out. I could hear lots of people chattering around us, and I wondered how strange or dangerous we must’ve looked to them. Devin promised me again that I was safe as he walked me forward. I heard him knock four times against a door that sounded like it was made of metal.
“Hey,” a man’s voice said.
“Don’t ruin it,” Devin immediately said to him.
The man laughed a loud cackle. “Follow me.”
“I’ve got you,” Devin whispered in my ear.
I knew I was safe. I knew I was. But the combination of adrenaline and anxiety was making it almost impossible to choke back the bile that was forming in the back of my throat. Just breathe. Breathe.
I’d lost track of how
many footsteps we’d taken along with any sense of direction. Finally, we stopped. There was a low rumble of voices around me. People suppressing giggles and others making the shush sound.
“Okay,” Devin said as he gently removed the blindfold from my face.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the light, and then I had to blink a thousand times to be sure I was actually seeing what I was seeing. “You’re…you’re Amy Parkson,” I said as I stared mouth gaped open at Amy Parkson standing five feet away from me with her signature acoustic guitar in hand.
“Yes, I am,” she said as she moved forward with an outstretched hand. Her long, wavy auburn hair flowed around her like a cape.
“I’m shaking Amy Parkson’s hand,” I mumbled feeling like my tongue was numb and my teeth were falling out into my mouth. My hand felt like it was going to fall off. I turned to Devin. “How did you…? When did you…? How did you…?” Complete sentences escaped me.
Devin and Amy smiled at each other. “Amy’s my cousin,” he said, and my mouth hit the floor.
“You’re kidding.”
“Second cousins, but yup, we’re family. And anytime family requests to come see me play, even if it is last minute, I was raised that you always come through for family.” She moved to Devin and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
Amy turned and looked at me with her ice blue eyes. “I’ve gotta get out there. I hope you enjoy the show. I have a meet and greet thing with some fans afterwards, but maybe we can all get together for a coffee or something sometime.”
I nodded absentmindedly as I shook her hand one more time and watched her walk away with her guitar. We were left alone inside the large open room. Amy’s band members and security guards had all left. My body was still in shock as waves of electricity bounced off of my pores.
