King Sized Beds and Happy Trails (Beds Series)

by Ann, Becca

  I’ll tell Lex as soon as she pops on.

  The smiley face that follows lets me know it’s Kaylee who’s responding. Then a whole bunch of hearts and thumbs up and all that other emoticon stuff I still don’t know how to do. I’m laughing as I close the chat window.

  I take a quick glance in the mirror. Yeah, my face is a deep shade of purple, and my ears are bright red. This is just via IM. Man, I’m a horrible liar. I really don’t want to do it again. Especially to…

  Save me! I’m dying of boredom!

  Lexie.

  The side of my lip pulls up as I type in my response.

  Would some good news help?

  All right, I can do this. It’s better for her to not use the only money she has. I can lie just this once.

  Oooh! What is it???

  My ears are still smoking, I’m holding my breath, and if I were saying it out loud, my voice would be cracking all over the place.

  I talked to Mr. M.

  That’s all my fingers will type. At least that part is true.

  And…???

  I can’t do it. I don’t want to lie again, not to her. So I do what I do best. I omit.

  Pack your bags. We’re going skiing.

  Chapter 5

  Lexie

  First rule of working at a coffee house: Don’t IM and pour.

  I stare at my phone, Ryan’s latest message front and center. Pack your bags. We’re going skiing.

  Stinging hot pain shoots through my leg as a coffee waterfall flows over the mug onto the counter and down my pants. Ow, Ow, Ouchy! I turn the pot upright, my eyes still stuck on the words.

  I’m going. How?

  Who cares? I’m going!

  “Woohoo!” My arm shoots up in the air.

  The lady in the corner looks at me over her thick, black-framed glasses. She’s not the only one. Every person in the coffee house has their eyes on me.

  I hold up the cup I poured half the pot into. “This coffee’s really good. Mmm.” A few people nod, the lady with the glasses rolls her eyes, but they all look away.

  I have no idea how Ryan pulled this off, but I’m not surprised. He always manages to pull things out of his ass. Like when my mom wouldn’t give me money to go to the ninth grade dance—it was only fifteen bucks, but Mom needed a bottle of vodka. So Ryan convinced principal Lindquist to let me attend anyway. Or when Mrs. Nelson was hesitant to hire me to walk Brewster, Ryan took her aside and next thing you know I had my first client. By now I should know, never underestimate his power of persuasion.

  I pour the coffee into a new mug and bring it to the lady in the corner. It’s not as busy as usual, so I pull my phone out and IM Ryan back.

  I don’t know how you did it, but thanks.

  Of course you do. It’s because I’m awesome.

  You’re an ass

  The best kind

  No denying that

  Lex

  Yeah?

  You’re welcome

  The bell above the door clinks and I slide my phone back in my pocket. I grab a couple menus and head over to perform my duties as hostess/waitress/barista because the manager does it all.

  And Mom says I’m incapable of multi tasking.

  Without looking up, I offer the menus and wait for the people to take them. I flip my pad to a clean page, pen hovering ready to write. “What can I get you? Or do you need a minute?”

  “You just gave us the menus.” My eyes shoot up. Blond-in-a-bottle glares back at me with dark eyes of death. Sean in all his good looking glory sits so close to her he’s practically implanted in her ass. His arm drapes over the back of the purple, velvet couch and with long, beautiful lashes he glances down and shifts his weight away from Sandy.

  “I… uh…”

  “Did you forget how to speak?” Sandy says, eyes narrowed on me before she rolls them and starts laughing.

  “I’ll give you a minute.” I turn and try not to run away. I already made that mistake once. There is no way I’ll make it again.

  I drop the check off to the woman in the corner and head back behind the register. Stacks of cups line the counter and I use them as my hideout. I slide one stack over just enough to see Sandy and Sean spit swapping.

  Why couldn’t they have gone to Skippy Lees? Sandy probably had this planned? I seriously want to know what her problem is because I’m finding it hard to believe all the crap she’s done and said to me has to do with a stupid incident during our sixth grade field day.

  “Hello! We’re ready!”

  A bag of coffee beans sits to my right. My hand reaches for it, but then I put it down. Throwing coffee beans at Sandy’s head is not the answer. Even if it would make me feel so much better.

  “What can I get you?” I don’t make eye contact. I refuse to let Sandy see the lava pooling in my eyes. She thinks she already won. Well, I have news for her. The game has just started and I’m not going down without a fight. “Sean, your usual? A vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso and a cherry Danish?”

  He gives me a sexy smile and his arm drops from Sandy’s shoulder. “Yeah, you know it.” His eyes linger on me a little longer than they should, and I take satisfaction in it as Sandy shoves her menu in his line of sight, breaking our eye contact.

  Thank you, Mrs. Caldwell for pairing us up for that History project—best week of my life!

  “And you Sandy? Still watching your weight? May I suggest the skinny latte? It’s only a hundred and twenty calories so it won’t go right to your ass.”

  With a gasp, her eyes widen. I don’t react. My hand stays in the ready to write position, waiting for an answer. “Where’s your manager?” she demands.

  “You’re looking at her.” I smile and watch as the anger in her eyes rises to a new level of pissed off. An added benefit for working my way up to night time manager. It only took a year, but I would have done three just to watch her reaction again. “Is that a yes for the skinny latte?”

  “Sean, let’s go!” She grabs her purse and jumps up from the chair, hands on hips.

  “But what about my latte? And my Danish?”

  “I could put it in a to-go bag for you.” I flutter my eyelashes, grateful I opted for mascara today.

  “Yea—”

  “Sean! Now!” Sandy grabs his hand and yanks him away from me. At the door he stops, turns and flashes that knee weakening smile of his. “Bye, Lexie.”

  Before I can offer a bye back, Sandy pulls him through the door and out into the night.

  Lexie one. Sandy zero.

  During the ski trip I expect this to go to the mercy rule. Lexie fifteen. Sandy still zero. I can’t wait to see her face when Sean is with me, and she’s left to be pointed at.

  I send an IM to Ryan to tell him about everything, but he doesn’t answer. Must be playing Scrabble with his grandparents. I’ll call him later. Wouldn’t want to disturb the master at play and have him miss out on a triple word score.

  Not that a distraction would keep him from missing out. I swear he spots those triple letters, triple words from a mile away. I still can’t figure out if he’s a natural or if the past ten years of playing has shaped him.

  The rest of the night passes by in a blur. My mind keeps drifting to the ski trip. It’s too hard to focus on lattes and pastries when I’ll be miles away from home with Sean in possibly the room next door.

  The countdown begins. Two weeks until I’m in paradise. I pull up to the house and get out of the car. It’s late so I ease the door shut not to disturb the people who are lucky enough to go to sleep before midnight.

  One downfall of being the night manager, the shift ends at eleven and then you have to lock up. Usually they wouldn’t give it to someone my age, still being in high school and all, but I practically begged and pleaded. The owner caved as long as I was able to prove my grades wouldn’t slip.

  The garbage pail is knocked over. Stupid raccoons. I bend over to pick it up. My heart races as I jump back and scream. A large dark figure is spraw
led out behind it. Too big for a raccoon.

  I move closer until I see the red stilettos and jean mini skirt. “Mom?” She doesn’t move. “Mom!” I kick her with my foot but a sonic boom could hit her, and she’d still be knocked out cold.

  Paradise will never be a reality for me, because no matter what… no matter how much distance I put between me and this town, my mother will be the anchor holding me in place. If I leave who’s going to pick her up when she trips and falls into the garbage pail? And as much as it pains me to know this, a piece of me hates her for that.

  Her pocket book is open, her wallet and keys scattered across the lawn. I retrieve them, slip it all back in her purse and push it up my arm before bending over and picking her up. Luckily, she’s not that heavy. It’s kind of hard to gain weight when you’re constantly drinking until you puke.

  I wrap her arms around my neck and lift with my legs. Once up she sways to the left. I put my body in front of her and reposition so she’s resting into my side. Slow and steady. Step by step we get closer to the door.

  The motion sensor light turns on, and I can’t help but glance around and make sure no one is witnessing this disaster. Coast is clear. We get to the top of the stairs, and I look down. This is always the hard part. We might as well be at the top of the Empire State building.

  I take out my cell and slide it into my pocket then throw both our bags to the bottom of the steps. Not like there’s anything worth much in there.

  “Come on, Mom.” I walk down one step, her weight still heavy on my side. She moves with me. Thank God!

  “You’re my faaaavorite daughter,” she slurs, vodka heavy on her breath.

  “I’m your only daughter.”

  She stumbles forward. I don’t even have time to gasp. My arm wraps around her waist and pulls her close just before she topples down head first. Her head rests on my chest, and her hand reaches up and pushes my hair out of my face.

  “You’d be so pretty…” She taps my nose twice and then misses on the third time, getting me in the eye. “…if you pulled your hair out of your face.”

  “Thanks.” It might be a backhanded compliment, but it’s a compliment nonetheless. “Now let’s get inside.”

  “No! Let’s go party!”

  Here we go. “No, let’s go inside. It’s late.”

  “I want to partay!” She throws her arms up in the air, and even though it’s an accident, she punches me right in the eye. Pain shoots through my socket. All I want to do is grab for it, try to rub the pain away, but if I do I’ll let go of her, and in her four inch stilettos she’s guaranteed to fall.

  I push the pain aside. I can cry later. Right now I need to get her in the apartment away from the neighbors.

  “No!” I yell, anger boiling in my veins. “It’s late. You’re drunk. Night over! Now let’s go!”

  “You were always such a little bitch!”

  A little bitch who carries your drunk ass in the house. I move down the rest of the steps, lean her up against the corner of the wall and unlock the door. I kick the door open and turn around to grab her, the smell of bile heavy in the air. Mom’s bent over puking her guts up.

  Great.

  I go over and rub her back. My eyes shift down, and I see my bag and hers. She has good aim I’ll give her that. Her bag is clean, not a drop, my bag on the other hand is completely covered.

  This can go on for awhile, so I sit on the bottom step. My head falls into my hands. Tears sting my eyes, and no matter how hard I try to push them back, they pour out.

  “Lexie, I don’t feel good,” she says with pouty lips, her bob, messy and hanging in her face.

  I swipe my fingers under my eyes then look up. “I know, Mom. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

  She nods. I step around the puddle and guide her around to get her in the door. I sit her on the couch and get a wet rag. Not too hot, not too cold and wipe her face. I hand her a cup with mouthwash and another one so she can spit.

  I take off her shoes and throw a blanket over her as she curls up into a ball and passes out again. Her snore is the only acknowledgement of gratitude I get.

  Outside I get the hose, rinse down the stairwell, toss her bag in the door and then try to salvage my bag. Everything inside is okay, so I take it out, rinse the bag down and leave it to dry. I’ll throw it in the wash tomorrow after school.

  Not to wake her, I ease the door shut and make sure she’s not in a position where she can choke on her own vomit and head into my room.

  I rub my eye, and the pain from before returns times ten. The last thing I want to do is look in the mirror, so I don’t. Instead I lock my door and climb up on my dresser. I slide my bedroom window open and climb out.

  On foot it takes ten minutes. His light’s still on as if he knows I’m coming. I throw a pebble at his window and wait. He doesn’t even look. He knows it’s me.

  The front door opens. Ryan’s hair is a disheveled mess from restless sleep, and he runs his hand through it as he waits for me to come inside.

  It’s become a routine. But tonight is different. Tonight for the first time…I feel broken. Like coming into his house and sleeping in the guestroom isn’t going to fix this. Because nothing can fix this. You can only break something so many times before you can’t put it back together again.

  Ryan rubs the tiredness out of his eyes and looks up. His dark irises narrow in on me, the worry lines in his forehead flare, and he’s out the door. “Lex, what’s the matter?” His arms are on my shoulders, concern etched in every single one of his features, but I can’t speak.

  I’m frozen in fear. Fear that I will never leave this town. Fear that my mother will never get sober. Fear that one day I might not get there in time.

  The tears build and build until I’m sobbing.

  “Oh shit, Lex.” His hands slide off my shoulder and pull me into his chest. The smell of juniper and sandalwood comfort me. I breathe in his scent and let it ease the tension in my neck, erase the horrible visions of my night and let the tears fade away.

  “I’m sorry.” I pull away and wipe the half-dried tears off my cheeks. I force a smile and look up at him.

  The outside light turns on, and I can see his face clearly. It twists into rage as he grabs my chin. “What the hell happened to your eye?”

  The vein in his forehead is pulsing. I’ve only seen it a few times, and it’s enough to know he’s ready to hurt someone.

  “Mom,” I say because with Ryan it’s enough for him to understand.

  “Did she do it on purpose?”

  “No. She wanted to party, and I just happened to be in the way of her arm throw.”

  The vein stops pulsing, and his hand let’s go of my chin, trailing up my cheek to just below my eye. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “Let’s get you some ice.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we turn toward the door. His grandfather is standing in the doorway in his matching red, plaid pajama set.

  “Everything alright out here?” he asks, his voice a lot burlier than he is.

  “Yeah, Pop-pop. Lex is just having a bad night.”

  “Hi Mr. Parker.” I wave and smile, but this time it isn’t forced.

  “Well go on, get inside. The guestroom is all made up. May changed the sheets this morning. And she also made some brownies. They’re on the counter. If she asks how many you ate, tell her three.”

  “Pop-pop…” Ryan groans, but he’s smiling.

  “Midnight snack. But let’s keep that between us. She’s on my case about my sugar again. I’m seventy-one years old. I’ve gone my whole life eating what I want, and I ain’t going to change that!”

  “Don’t worry Mr. Parker, I got you covered.” His eyes turn to me and his smile fades. But he doesn’t say anything about it. He knows. All too well actually. He took his grandson away from the life I’m living.

  “Well, it’s a school night. Don’t be up too late now.”

  “We won’t, Pop-pop.
Goodnight.”

  “Thank you.” The two words are nothing compared to all that he does for me, but I have to say something.

  “No need. You’re family.” He walks over and kisses my forehead before heading to bed.

  I follow Ryan into the kitchen where he tosses me an ice pack and scoops two brownies off the platter.

  “You sure you’re okay?” He sits on the stool next to me, the unease from earlier back on his face. I had to do something right in my life to deserve him.

  I take a bite of my brownie. “I am now.”

  Chapter 6

  Ryan

  I couldn’t have asked for a better bus ride up to the ski resort. Lexie rests her head on my chest with my arm wrapped around her sleeping body. She got a ton of crap from her mom last night about leaving for a week, but now she’s completely quiet—at peace, and away from all of that.

  Her eye’s a hell of a lot better too. Good thing it didn’t stay for longer than a week, ‘cause I was about to go hit a grown woman over it. Pop-pop would’ve had my back too. He was two numbers away from calling the cops before I unplugged the phone. But he said next time Lex comes over with a purple anything, he’ll call, even if she ends up hating him for it.

  So, yeah, this trip came just in time. And seeing her actually sleep without wiping tears from her face first does funky things to my innards.

  She smells real good too. I never thought I’d be turned on by a smell, but her nail polish has a scent that smells like apples or something. I have to shift a couple times so the effect she’s having on me isn’t obvious.

  The bus jerks to a stop, and she startles awake, elbowing me right in the junk. My… obvious junk.

  “Aiy!”

  Her face goes red, but she starts laughing. “Whoops! I’m sorry, Ry!”

  I nod and squeeze my eyes shut. Not sure if I’m going to be able to stand for a minute.

  Someone’s talking in the background, Nate’s laughing behind me and patting me on the shoulder while I try the “breathe in, breathe out” method. When Mr. Miller says, “Okay, boy cabins on the right, girls on the left!” people book it down the aisle to grab a key.