Avra's God (11 page)

Cisco chuckled. “Funny.” He closed the
distance between them.

His lips were gentle and warm on hers. She
tentatively slid her hand around his neck. He groaned and pulled
her closer. Her fingers closed on the cords of his neck.

Kallie hugged the dunes as a dark form inched
up the jagged waterline toward her. She could tell he was male by
the walk, the bulk of the shoulders. She slowed, poised to dash
through the sawgrass toward civilization.
I was crazy to run
from Jesse and put myself in danger.
The 7-11 had to be a mile
away. At least there were houses on the other side of the
dunes.

She clenched her dead cell phone in her
pocket.

The guy’s head swiveled from side to side as
he came abreast of her, maybe thirty yards away.

She held her breath.

He swerved toward her and doubled his
pace.

“Kallie!”

Jesse. The tidewater of relief rushed into
her like an estuary. She wobbled up to him, her knees weak.
Moonlight glanced off his face, but she couldn’t read his
expression. He had to be P.O.’d.

He turned toward the Flagler Avenue ramp and
hesitated as if he didn’t trust her to follow. The crash of the
surf drowned out the silence between them as they hiked toward
Jesse’s car.

At Beachin’ Willie’s he unlocked the
passenger door and swung it open.

She studied his face in the red neon from
Willie’s sign. She’d probably killed their friendship for good this
time.

His gaze bore into her, his jaw as hard as a
fist. Finally, he blew out a breath. “Get in. I’m not going
to m
aul you or anything.” He shook his
head. “I can’t believe you ran away from me.”

“I’m sorry. I was upset.” She wasn’t afraid
he’d hurt her physically, but inside. She ducked into the car.

Jesse wheeled the car onto Flagler and headed
for the North Causeway.

She huddled in her coat, hood up, clawing for
words that would make Jesse understand.
I didn’t mean to run
away.
Their friendship was
Spinning on a Kiss—
or an
almost kiss—again. Could Jesse go back to how he felt when he wrote
that song?

They crossed the stone bridge over the Indian
River tributary onto the mainland. The silence throbbed against her
courage, beating it down. He’d drop her off, drive away, and be
done with her.

Jesse pulled into her driveway and killed the
engine. The car crackled and fizzed into quiet. He pinned her with
his eyes. “What’s going on, Kal?” Jesse breathed in, breathed out.
“You act like you’re interested, then you blow me off.”

She leaned her head back on the headrest.
“It’s not you. It’s me—issues, three miles deep. It’s a long
story.”

“I’ve got time.” He twisted toward her,
hooking one arm on the steering wheel, and waited.

“Not a pretty story ... not one I’ve told
anyone.”

“Come on, talk to me.”

The pleading in his voice tugged at her. She
owed Jesse an explanation for running. He’d come looking for her.
He didn’t dump her at the curb. She met his eyes. And the words
climbed over the dam she’d built. “When I was twelve, my father had
an affair with a much-younger woman from his office. They had a
baby. He divorced Mom.” And then the words flowed.

Mom had been home, alone, recovering from a
hysterectomy that day. It made Kallie physically sick to imagine
Mom spending all those hours alone with only a home health nurse
checking on her once a day.

Kallie and Aly had spent Memorial Day weekend
with Dad. Seven-year-old Aly lay on her stomach on Dad and Erika’s
living room floor, coloring, with her feet stuck up in the air
behind her. Erika nursed baby Michael in the rocker. Dad bent over
the rocker, his forefinger stroking the down on Michael’s head. He
doted on that baby to the point of nausea. Had he loved her like
that? Ever?

Kallie focused on the scarred trunk of the
date palm over Jesse’s shoulder. She couldn’t tell him what a brat
she’d been. “Anyway, we had an argument ...”

Dad had yanked Kallie by the arm, led her out
of the house, and pushed her into the backseat of his Mercedes. He
shoved her suitcase onto her lap and slammed the door. Aly ran out
the door after them and clambered in the other side.

Kallie shot daggers at her father’s grim
whiskered jaw from the backseat. Anger filled every molecule of air
in the car. She flung herself against the leather seat,
unrepentant. Finally, she glanced at Aly’s small, pale face.
Kallie’s rage cracked; guilt slithered in.

Dad swerved to a stop beside their condo.
Thirty seconds later, she and Aly stood behind the car, their
suitcases tossed at their feet. The car peeled away, splaying small
stones. She had tasted grit in her teeth.

Kallie brushed angry tears away, embarrassed
to be crying in front of Jesse. “Dad’s never called since. It was
like he mowed us down with the Mercedes and didn’t stick around to
see the bloody body parts strewn across the road.”

Jesse’s eyes went soft with emotion and she
was glad she had told him.

Streetlight spilled across Kallie as Jesse
watched her take one last sniff and wipe away the remaining
dampness under her eyes with the pads of her fingers. Beautiful.
Broken. He wanted to hold her in his arms till she healed. But,
wanting to hold her was what got him into trouble in the first
place.

Kallie slumped like a rag doll in the
passenger seat. “I look healthy on the outside, but—”

“But inside you look like the first time I
saw you—clenched in a fetal position.”

“Yeah. When did you get so smart?”

He shrugged. “While you were talking, I kept
thinking of a Bible verse that says God is a father to the
fatherless.” His folks had seen to it that the cubbyholes of his
brain were stuffed with Bible verses like answers to Trivial
Pursuit.

“Really? You’ve read the Bible?”

“Not lately.” He stuffed the guilt the words
awoke. “I’m sorry your dad did this to you. I’ve got stuff with my
dad—” Helplessness silenced him. He opened his arms and she leaned
into his chest. He inhaled the scent of a summer rain shower.

She broke away, settling into her seat.

But he felt closer to her than ever before.
Her trust tasted sweet. “Someday, I want to make a full-court press
for you, girl.”

She lobbed a wan smile at him and let herself
out. “Warn me when it’s coming.”

He watched her open the screen door. She
looked back and waved, then went inside.

In the same way he’d known Kallie was balled
into a fetal position, he knew he had the potential to hurt her as
deeply as her father had.

“I promise never to hurt you like that,
Kallie.”

Avra’s feet thudded to the floor behind the
sound board as the auditorium door yawned.

Isabel paused under the exit sign, backlit by
four o’clock sun. She slumped into a seat in the side section, her
hair falling to the floor behind her, legs draped over the seat in
front of her. Jenna and the rest of the band’s groupies lined the
first two rows of the auditorium. They waved their arms and sang
along as the guys practiced.

A knot of anger balled in Avra’s stomach. She
hadn’t seen Isabel in weeks—since the night Cisco told her to get
lost at Beachin’ Willie’s. Was Isabel going to start stalking Cisco
again?

“That’s a wrap!” Jesse yelled.

Jenna and crew, in matching pink T-shirts,
rushed the stage, screaming and grabbing at the guys’ ankles.
Kallie stood in the row in front of the sound board and spun toward
Avra. Her lips pinched white as she gathered up her backpack and
jacket.

Avra glanced up in time to see Isabel’s arms
wind around Cisco’s bare leg. The anger flamed through her.

The groupies calmed.

Avra’s fingers turned white where she gripped
the sound board. Why hadn’t Cisco shoved Isabel off the second she
grabbed him?

Jesse vaulted from the stage and strode up
the aisle. “Hey, Kal—”

Kallie stopped at the end of the row.

“Something’s wrong with the song we’re doing
Thursday,” Jesse said. “Would you look at it?”

“Jesse!” Jenna strode up the aisle.

Jesse glanced toward Jenna and back at
Kallie. “Wait for me.”

“Oooh, Jesse!” Jenna wiggled and squirmed as
if a dragonfly had crash-landed into her backside. “That was an
awesome rehearsal!” She shook a sheaf of papers at him. “We drew up
the fan club charter. Thought you might like to look at it.”

Kallie rolled her eyes.

Yeah, I’m annoyed too. Seriously
. Avra
had had about enough of Jenna herself. And way too much of
Isabel.

Isabel swung her hips as she headed toward
the restroom. Billy’s hands stilled on the keyboard case, his chin
following Isabel’s progress across the room. Cisco ducked his head
over the high-hat, his fingers twirling a wing nut.

Enough!
She race-walked across the
auditorium before she could change her mind. She paused outside the
restroom door, took a breath, and pushed through.

Isabel stood on the tile floor, brushing her
hair at the spattered mirror. Her purse lay in the sink, the
shoulder strap overflowing onto the counter. She shoved her chin
toward Avra in the mirror, sneering. “Cisco’s girl.”

“Yeah. Quit following him around like a
Rottweiler with your tongue hanging out.”

Isabel turned toward her, hairbrush in hand
like a weapon.

Avra dropped her arms, spread her feet
apart—a soccer stance—waiting for Isabel’s next move.

Isabel shrugged a slim shoulder as though she
didn’t care.

“How would you like it if Cisco was your
boyfriend and I followed him around?”

Isabel looked her up and down. “You’re
nothing. Why would I worry about you?”

“Maybe because I got the guy.”

Isabel’s dark eyes glittered between narrowed
black lashes. She spit a Spanish word into the room between
them.

Avra flinched inwardly at the girl’s tone but
stood her ground. “Back off.” She stared at Isabel’s Look of Death
for a full second, shoved the door open, and left.

God
,
You deal with
her.

As she walked up the side aisle toward the
sound board, Kallie bent over a spiral notebook as if she were
t
rying to ignore the screaming girls’
second round.

Jesse played the rock idol—shaking hands with
the girls, kissing a cheek. He sucked it all up like a human shop
vac.

Give him what he really craves.
Avra
watched from behind the sound board as Jesse carried the keyboard
stool and the guitar stand up the aisle.

Kallie ripped pages out of the spiral
notebook and thrust them toward Jesse. “I changed my mind. Fix your
own song. You don’t need me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You never needed me. You had the talent
before I met you. Maybe I pointed out the truth to you a couple of
times, but that’s all.” She waved an arm toward the pink-shirted
girls. “You’ve got plenty of people to tell you you’re good.”

“But, Kal—”

Kallie blew by Jesse. “Knock ’em dead,
Jess.”

Go Kallie!
Avra hit the power switch
and all the lights on the board dimmed to black. She wished Kallie
hadn’t fallen for Jesse. There’d be major pain before it was over.
Lord, show her how to get close to You and Your
c
omfort.

Jesse stared at Kallie’s back as she exited
the auditorium. He smacked the seat back in front of him and caught
her eyes on him. “So what’s with Kallie?”

“She’s not into the competition scene.” She
darted a look at the restroom. “Most of us aren’t.”

“We’re
friends
, not boyfriend and
girlfriend.”

How much should she say? “Kallie’s an
all–or-nothing kind of girl.”

Jesse opened his mouth as if he’d argue, but
clamped it shut. He stared hard at the seat in front of him.
Finally, he kicked it and turned away.

“Kallie’s right, you don’t need her.”

He stopped and looked back at her.

She motioned toward the giggling girls. “You
don’t even need them. You’re looking for God’s smile.”

“Okay, Avra. Whatever.” He walked away.

The porch swing creaked and Avra snuggled
deeper into the quilt she shared with Cisco. “I thought you were
kidding about watching the garbage truck. It’s seven a.m. No one at
my house is even alive at this hour on a Saturday morning.”

Cisco slid his arm around her shoulders.
“Exactly. Very romantic, don’t you think? Wait till you see the
truck. The city just bought the thing. It’s got robot arms that hug
the garbage can, lift it up over the top of the truck, and dump.
Pretty sweet.”

She grunted and mumbled, “You’re
so
a
morning person.” She curled up, leaned her head against Cisco’s
shoulder, and closed her eyes.

He chuckled. “Fine. Go to sleep. Some date
you are.”

The swing jostled. Next to her ear, she heard
Cisco open and shut the Pop Tarts box, rip open the foil envelope.
“Hey, you’re letting in cold air.”

Cisco tucked the quilt under her chin. “A
little grumpy, are we, first thing in the morning?”

“Mmm.” She listened to Cisco munching on the
Pop Tart and dozed.

“I like you even when you’re grumpy.”

She slit her eyes at him.

He ran his hand across his mouth and the
sparse hairs on his chin. “You need sweetening up,” he said into
her hair. He kissed her part, forehead, eyelid, the corner of her
mouth. In the distance a truck revved, clunked, and revved.

Her eyes slid shut. “Still grumpy.”

Cisco’s lips closed on hers. She tasted
blueberry and breathed the soap scent from his skin. She woke by
degrees, Cisco filling her senses.