Cookie Cutter (11 page)

She’s talking about James, and I promptly mark her down as okay in my book. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” she says on her way to her car.

“I’m Carter, by the way.”

She smiles “Yeah I know. I’m Alex. See ya round.”

She leaves and I give one more look in the direction of Meg’s house. When I don’t see Iris anywhere I figure,
just as well,
and head inside for a night of more drywall and maybe a phone call to a friend I know in the DMV back home.

Chapter 9. Iris

Please, please, please, please, please…

“Open the door, Meg.”

The temperature in my cheeks lowers as I let my forehead rest against the front door of my closest friend’s house.  I close my eyes as I knock again. I turn my head and press my ear to the crack of the jamb and listen.

“Dammit.”  The soft, frustrated whisper leaves my lips like a final prayer. I can’t sit here all day waiting for her to get back from wherever it is that she’s gone but I can’t go back out into the street either. I refuse to let James
or
Carter see me like this. I’m a mess and once again, it’s Carter Blackwood’s fault.

For the first time since I’ve met him, I feel like that’s a good thing, but also bad. And not bad as in, he’s a jerk bad, but bad as in, I wouldn’t want to give him or James an inkling that I might have—just might have—wanted to jump Carter like a sex starved teenager, right there in the middle of Spirit Drive, when he defended me for the second time in one week, like he did. And it wasn’t just the defending me.  It was the words he chose when he did it.

She’s not anybody’s Iris. She’s just Iris.

The blood rose straight to my face and it burned so bad, I was sure he’d noticed. When he looked at me the way he did, with that smirk he likes to show off, I was surprised he didn’t say something about it.  I’m doubly surprised James didn’t mention it. So naturally, I ran.

I can’t just go back out there and act like it didn’t happen. Not while they’re still out there anyway. I peek around the corner of Meg’s garage and thankfully, see no sign or James and no Carter. Then I turn and lean against the wall, breathe a heavy sigh of relief and collect myself for a few minutes. I count to three like I’m getting ready to hurl myself into a war zone, then hurry back to my place to figure out how I’m going to get my car back tonight.

After I do the hundred yard dash in record breaking time, I turn and back my way up the sidewalk, so as to make sure no one sneaks up on me.

“Iris?”

Shit! It’s Carter! My breath catches in my chest altogether for a moment, thinking it’s him.

“Oh.” I laugh when I see, it’s only my neighbor, Paul.

Naked Paul, that is. Because why would Carter Blackwood be sneaking up on me?

“Paul, you scared me.”

Then again, why does he ever?

“Sorry about that, Iris.” Paul stands there before me, wearing nothing but of course, his birthday suit, holding my mail in his hands.

“This was in my box today. Thought I’d bring it over for ya before everyone else started filtering in.”

I take it slowly, like he’s going to spring and bite me if I get too close. “Thank you, Paul.” My eyes try their best to wander to where I know he’s missing some very important pieces of clothing, but I’m stronger than they are. This time.

He gestures toward the driveway. “Where’s your car? Ally driving finally?”

I’m surprised he knows my daughter’s name. We don’t talk much, Paul and I, except to discuss his dress wear. Or lack thereof. I smile at this new development and easily fall into an explanation.

“No. She still hasn’t taken the test for her permit yet but soon, hopefully. I um . . . left the car at the gym, sort of.”

I try to avoid having to explain what happened all over again but I can’t help but giggle a tiny bit, thinking of Carter passed out on the floor of spin class. Even if it was a close call that he didn’t break his head wide open on Sandy McGuire’s bike.

“Oh well, I can give you a ride if you want?” he offers happily. “I don’t have any plans tonight.”  

I’m taken aback by his friendliness considering all I’ve ever done is to try and get him to wear some pants around the neighborhood. I’m close to turning down his offer out of sheer embarrassment but I don’t really have any other options, considering Meg’s not at home and Cynthia et al don’t drive much these days. So I nod and grin for him. “I’d appreciate that, actually.”

“I’ll go get my keys!” He’s so excited, over such a little thing and I’m in awe of his enthusiasm. Then he trots off to get them and while I wait.

When did I become the woman who accepts rides from nudists I barely know? There isn’t much time to ponder on that thought, because Paul returns pretty quickly. Thank the good lord, somewhere up above, he’s wearing jeans.

* * *

Paul’s cheerful disposition is addictive and infectious. Several times, I catch myself laughing at the most inappropriate of stories that he tells me, simply because of the way he tells them. I’m fairly certain these aren’t just stories he’s telling but real life experiences, which makes them even better. I can’t for the life of me figure out why I haven’t made the effort to get to know him better before. I can’t wait to tell Carter what an interesting person our neighborhood nudist is when I get back home.

However, he’s not outside when I get there and I’m hesitant to go right up to his door and knock like I would for Meg or Beatrice. So I opt to go inside and curl up in bed while I wait for Ally to get home from dance practice.

* * *

The next morning, my alarm sounds in time to save me from a no-faced dream monster that’s chasing me down a dark alleyway with no exit. I open my eyes gladly and sit up, letting my legs dangle over the side of the bed to stretch out my feet. I breathe. I rub the sleep from my eyes and push myself up.  I pull the drapes open on my bedroom window to see Naked Paul’s house not ten feet away. My mind wanders to the night before and I begin a bittersweet moment of wishful thinking as I recall the stories he told me on the way to the gym.

They were about places he’s been, like Rome and Ireland. He’s traveled to so many places, all alone with absolutely no plan and he’s apparently had the time of his life.  Even some of the places he’s traveled to within the United States are sites I’ve only dreamt of seeing. I’ve never really gone anywhere but Spangler and maybe the occasional family vacation over to Hilton Head every few years. But does that really count?  I’m an hour away from Savannah and all its beautiful history but have I been there?

No.

I should go somewhere.

Maybe next time I have some time off, I’ll drive to Miami. I hear the night life there is fantastic and the food. Oh my God, the food I could eat there. Except that my license is officially expired and I’m not legally allowed to drive at all right now.

“Crap.”

The wind in my metaphorical sail diminishes. Not only that, but how in the hell am I getting Ally to school today? Speaking of which, I check the time and listen for my daughter.
Hmmm.
The tinkering around in the kitchen tells me she’s already up. I find that odd since it usually takes her four or five snooze button pushes before she’s coherent enough to say good morning to the world. I grab my robe and wrap it around me on the way to the kitchen. Pots and pans clang together and I stop at the doorway. Ally is trying to juggle some eggs in one hand while she struggles with the bread in the other.

“What are you doing?” I lean up against the door jamb.

“Oh hey, mom, I’m making breakfast.” She searches for something in one of the overhead cabinets.

“Why?”

“Just you know, wanted to do something nice for my mother.” She sings the word mother at the end. Then shoots me this ridiculously huge smile and my mom senses tingle with suspicion. I check the time again. Perhaps I overslept. A lot. Nope, it’s 6:00 alright.

“Something happen last night? Who drove?” I was too tired for these questions last night. I was just glad she made it home alive.

Ally laughs. “Nothing happened, mom. And Blake--”

“Why didn’t Karen’s mom get you?”

“Karen told her not to bother.” She shrugs, then finds what she’s looking for. Salt. “Blake was there, he has to drive right by both of our houses anyway . . .”

“I don’t like you driving around with boys I don’t know at night, Ally.” I stride over to her and take the salt out of her hand.

She rolls her eyes and drops an egg.

“Ugh.” She throws her hands up into the air, frustrated.  So I step in. It’s the thought that counts anyway. Right?

“Here, let me help you.” I bend down to clean up and she gladly complies. Ally’s not used to cooking.

The paper towel rack is empty by the time I take what I need to clean up the egg off of the floor.  We kind of dance around each other until finally, the breakfast prep that she started is aligned properly on the counter and I’m heating up the frying pan. She cracks the eggs and beats them in a bowl for me while I start some toast in the toaster.  Then she slides the bowl toward me.

“Can you add that stuff you used to put in them?”

“Old Bay?”

“Yeah, I love that stuff.”

I flip the cabinet open and grab the small tin I have of it. “You used to loooooove it when I put Old Bay on your everything.”

“What?” Ally giggles hard. I haven’t heard her giggle like this around me in years. “When did I say that?”

“All the time.
Mommay,
you’d say.
Could you to be putting oh bay on my everything peas?
”

Ally laughs a huge, full on, can’t not laugh - laugh and now I’m laughing with her.

“I did not say that.” she insists.

“Oh, but you did.”

She lets the laughter die as it gets quiet between us. I can still see her smiling from where I stand, though.

“You were adorable.” I have to add, because she was. Still is, when she wants to be.

Breakfast comes and goes within five minutes of the food being cooked. Ally drops her plate in the sink and hurries upstairs. I head into my room to get a shower and get ready, and before I know it, here I am once again, waiting by the car for my daughter. I set my work bag down next to me and lean up against the driver’s side door. I check my work e-mail on the old iPhone to make sure nothing urgent has come up since last night. There isn’t anything from Mark but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing urgent going on—like my need to get to work without being pulled over and consequently thrown in jail for having an expired license.

I forget about my e-mail and glare at Meg’s house. I wonder if she’s up and if she is, is she functional? Not that I’m jealous but the woman hasn’t worked a day job ever. Meg is what you’d call “independently wealthy”, from a trust fund she was awarded at eighteen and, lucky for her, she has a team of very smart lawyers who have drawn up extremely air tight pre-nups for each of her previous three husbands.

That’s right. I said three.

She does nothing with that money. Nothing. Except go shopping. Oh, what I would do with that kind of money. Forget Miami, let’s talk Hawaii. Fuji Islands.
Europe.

“Morning,” a soft voice whispers next to my ear.

I’m not exactly startled when Carter suddenly appears next to me like he does. More like stunned out of the day dream I somehow got lost in a moment ago. Not that I’m complaining, the bright brown eyes that are staring into mine are better than Hawaii anyway.

“Morning,” I say through a smile I couldn’t hide if I wanted to. I know nothing’s happened between us and nothing probably ever will, but the way my belly quivers when I see him tells me something did happen, yesterday, out in front of my house. “How’s your head?”

“Good as gold.” He smiles, and taps the side of his temple. “Thanks again for the ride home. See you got your car back.”

“Yep.”

“The ex?”

“No.” I grin like I’m about to tell the ending to the world’s greatest joke. “Paul.”

Carter’s eyes grow wide and he looks impressed. “Naked Paul.”

“The one and only.”

He nods. “Nice.”

“He really is, actually.” Paul’s excitement about life in general puts me in a better mood, just thinking about it.

“I’m not at all surprised. So, whatcha doin’? Besides waiting for Ally.”

I let out a slight huff through my nose. I’m still annoyed with the police officer that pulled me over the other day. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“Whether or not I should risk driving Ally to school without a license or call us a cab.”

He chuckles and it sounds like some Greek god somewhere has smiled down on him for Christ’s sake. Since when am I into Greek mythology?

“Well, not that I think you’d get busted seeing how you refuse to go over the speed limit, but how about I take you in?”

I should tell him no thanks, he’s done enough for me. Really.

“Don’t you have work to do on the house?” I hope he doesn’t.

“Nope.”

I should tell him I’ll get Meg up and make her take me in. I really should.

“That’d be great.”

My daughter exits the house and pulls the door shut behind her. She seems pleasant enough. Still in a decent mood, but when she sees Carter and me talking, her expression turns grim. I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder.

“Come on, Ally.” I start off with Carter toward his truck across the street.