Down 'N' Derby (17 page)

             
We ordered a huge pizza with everything on it this time, which included pineapple.  It was the best thing I’d ever tasted.  Someone should’ve intervened in my life sooner and force fed me pizza just to prove what an idiot I was.  She looked tired and by the end of the meal seemed like she might not make it back to the parking lot, much less the car. 

             
“Do you want me to drive?  You’re gonna have to help me with the directions but you’re exhausted.”

             
She nodded and I made sure she got in the passenger side first.  She pointed me in the general direction of the freeway and told me the way to get to Venice Beach.  After that I would have to wake her up to get to her apartment.  I drove and she slept, unfazed by the incessant honking horns and truck noises.  I reached Venice Beach and hated to wake her up.  I patted her thigh to wake her up and she popped out of sleep and immediately began directing me.  We parked and retrieved the bags from her trunk and began the trek upstairs.  She unlocked the door and hesitated.  I knew that look.  I winked at her, letting her know that I understood and walked in first checking the rooms and behind doors and inside closets for thieves and kidnappers of beautiful women.  It gave me a chance to dig a little too.  One bedroom was scarce, like no one lived there in a while.  The other was hers. 

             
I lay her bags on her bed and went back to the front door. 

             
“All clear.” I said and let her come in by me. 

             
“Ok, thank you.” Her eyes got wide, “Oh shit, I picked you up. Let me take you back.”

             
I shook my head, “Nah, I’ll get a cab.  Don’t worry about it.  You need some sleep.”

             
“Are you sure? You can sleep on the couch. I can’t believe I did this.  I’m so sorry.”

             
“Hey,” I stepped closer to her to cut off her wig out. “I’m fine. You worked hard today.  I’m gonna get a cab and get some sleep.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  You must chill.” I laughed and after a minute she did too.  “Ok, well, goodnight Mad.”

             
“Goodnight, gorgeous.   There’s always tomorrow.” I shut the door behind myself and didn’t hear the click of the lock.  I waited a minute and still didn’t hear it, so I knocked.

             
She answered and looked at me like I was challenged. “Do you want me to take you home?” She asked. 

             
“No, but I am going to stand here until I hear you lock the door.”

             
“What guy does that?” I gave her a disapproving look.  She was comparing me to other men again.

             
“Ok, ok, I’m sorry. I’ll lock it.” She shut the door and I heard the click of the deadbolt.  I went out to the main road and caught a cab home.  It wasn’t far and before I knew it, I was showered and in bed.  Sleep took me before I even had the chance to get lonely. 

             
I didn’t wake up until about eleven the next morning.  I showered again after realizing that I’d missed some sand and got dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white t-shirt.  I slipped on some flip flops and my sunglasses and went in search of breakfast.  I wanted to call Storey and see if she could join me but wondered about creeping up on stalker status.  I walked a couple blocks until I found a place that said ‘Breakfast served 24 Hours A Day’.  I took a seat in a bench and ordered pancakes that were filled with sausage, cheese and green chiles.  I people watched while I waited. 

             
I ate and paid my ticket.  I hadn’t heard from her so I decided to get in the Rover and check Einer’s address again.  I hadn’t gotten any phone calls.  I drove to the apartment, the bottom unit of a shabby apartment complex.  I got out and knocked on the door.  I heard noises inside and knocked again, just in case whoever it was didn’t hear me the first time.  I yelled into the door, still hearing shuffling, “I’m looking for Einer Macon.  I’m not the cops or anything.  I just want to talk to him.”  The noises ceased but no one answered the door. 

             
I left another note on the door and hoped whoever lived there would at least do me the courtesy of returning the call.  I got back in the Rover and just as I was looking for something to do, my phone rang.  It was Storey.  I loved a girl who didn’t wait for me to call. 

             
“Good morning.” I answered and I could hear her clanking around, sounded like the kitchen. 

             
“Good morning, or afternoon.  What are you up to today?”

             
“Well, Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already eaten breakfast and I went to scope out the Dad thing.  What about you?”  I heard her yawn and try to cover it.

             
“I’m exhausted still.  But I want to see you.”  I loved her honesty.  She didn’t bullshit around.

             
“How about I pick you up something to eat and we can just lay around and watch movies.  You can rest and I still get to see you.  Sound good?”

             
“Um, yeah?” Clearly she was not accustomed to being treated well and if I ever caught Simon in a private venue, I would rearrange his face.

             
“Ok, tell me what you want to eat.  Anything at all, name it.”  She hesitated but then answered.

             
“There’s a Chinese place on the other side of Venice Beach road from my apartment.  I’ll call in the order if you don’t mind picking it up.”

             
“Not at all.  Go ahead and call.  I’ll be there soon.”  I rolled my eyes at her.  This was my new mission.  Show this girl how women should be treated.  How she deserved to be treated.  And it would start today.  Even if this summer was the end of us, I would leave her with something to remember me by. 

             
I picked up her Chinese food and then parked outside her apartment.  I climbed the steps two at a time and knocked on the door.  She answered wearing a pair of black shorts and a pink tank top.  Her chocolate hair was down and messy.  I looked down to find a pair of fuzzy white slippers with huge red fuzzy hearts on top.  They were so damn ugly.  But attached to her feet, I could almost find it in my heart to forgive them—almost. 

             
“Do not say a word about the slippers.” She pointed at me. 

             
“I wouldn’t dare.  Now, can you please pick a movie while I make you a plate?” 

             
She propped her hands up on those glorious hips and when she began to speak, a chunk of hair fell down in her face.  “I can make my own plate.”  Then she attempted to blow the hair out of her face and when it didn’t work, she groaned and moved it. 

             
“I know you can.  But I want to.  I’ll be there in a second.”  I went into her tiny kitchen and shuffled through cabinets and drawers until I came up with a plate, a fork and a napkin.  I fixed her plate filled with pork fried rice and honey chicken and brought it out to the living room.  She was playing with the remote, trying to skip past the movie previews, clearly having trouble.  I slipped the remote from her hand and replaced it with her food.  She took it, the look of disbelief still plastered to her face.  I forwarded to the main menu of the DVD and pressed play.

             
“Oh, I’ve seen this one.  Nellie watches it all the time.  She’s my other sister in law.  She can practically say all the lines with the characters.” The movie was the Breakfast Club with Molly Ringwald.  It was seriously cheesy but I’d endured it so many times, it eventually grew on me. 

             
She squinted at me with a mouth full of rice and I recognized this game from a mile away.  And I’d play it with her and take the win. 

Chapter 29

Storey

Somehow I’d anted into this hand of five card stud with him but I had a shit hand and no poker face.

             
I’d done it on purpose and now I felt like one of those mean girls from a high school movie.  I’d picked a movie that Simon hated.  I don’t mean hate, like he disliked it.  I meant hate as in every time I bought a copy he would hunt it down and burn it, usually at his family’s fire pit at their fishing camp.  And I just laughed, chalking it up to testosterone.

             
And that’s when I gave up the game I’d intended to play with him.  I’d wanted to prove him wrong.  Prove to myself that he was just like other guys.  But he’d proven me wrong so many times. 

             
We sat on my couch and watched the kids in Saturday detention and he even quoted some of the lines.  I got sleepy again somewhere after the black haired girl made a pixie stick sandwich.  I got up to put my plate in the kitchen but I was intercepted.

             
“Here, let me.  Do you want something to drink?  I forgot.”

             
“No, I don’t drink while I’m eating.  It’s fine.  Could—could you get me a bottle of water?”

             
“Yeah, of course.” He went into the kitchen and I felt like I’d become a new citizen of opposite land.  I’d dated guys after Simon—but they were all like Simon, some even spouted out some of his key traits like making fun of really large girls or skinny guys.  I had some kind of sign on my forehead, only visible to assholes that read ‘Come on, ask me out, I won’t say no and I’ll take your shit too!’

             
He came back with my water and sat down beside me again, a little closer this time.  I had the thought of propping my feet up in his lap but dismissed it.  I wiggled them out of my slippers and folded my legs under myself.  I shifted again, putting them on the coffee table.  I just couldn’t get comfortable. 

             
“You know what my mom would say,” he asked without breaking his connection with the TV.

             
“What would she say?” 

             
“She would ask you if you had ants in your pants.”

             
“You love your mom.” He didn’t have to say it for me to hear it in his voice.  He spoke about her like she held a place in his heart. 

             
“I do.  She’s great.  I need to call her.  She doesn’t deserve what I’m doing to her.”

             
“So call her.” He looked at me.

             
“Right now?”

             
“Yeah, I can go in the other room if you want—or I can stay here.  But I can tell it’s plaguing you.  So do it.  Call her.”

             
He blew out a breath and then reached in his pocket for his phone.  “Do you want me to go?” I asked. 

             
“No, I need you here,” He was too busy dialing to see the shock on my face.  I’d never been told that someone needed me—ever. 

             
“Mom, it’s Mad.” I heard him say and then tried to tune the rest out.  I leaned forward trying to let John Bender drown out his voice.  But it didn’t work.  I heard him apologizing to her.  I heard him tell her he was fine and apologize again.  And when he told her he loved her, his voice cracked.  I reached out and grabbed his hand.  Somehow I wanted to help steady him.  I turned and looked him dead in the eyes while he spoke to her and he never shifted from my gaze.  Unexpectedly, he moved his hand to the dip of my waist and pulled me closer to him.  I heard him answer ‘Yes Ma’am’ to a question she asked and then he said, ‘Hey Dad.’  I leaned against his shoulder and smiled when I felt him rumble in laughter at something his dad said.  His hand rubbed up and down my waist and though I continued to look at the TV, the credits were rolling.  A few minutes later he said his goodbyes first to his dad and then to his mom. 

             
He sat there for a minute without moving.  I got up to change out the DVD and a few moments later, heard the sink running in the kitchen.  He was washing dishes.  I couldn’t help but think that any minute this would crack.  That his kindness would crack like the sugar of a praline. 

             
I put on The Ballad of Ricky Bobby and again fuddled with the remote trying to get to the main menu.  He came back in and sat down looking very happy.

             
“Good news,” I asked.

             
“Not really anything out of the ordinary.  It was just good to hear their voices.  I thought they would be angry or upset.  But they were just worried and were glad I was ok.  I’m relieved.”  He looked relieved, he had released whatever he was holding onto.

             
“Well, I’m glad I forced you to call then.  And since I’m such a stick in the mud today, I have an idea for tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

             
“I’m up for it.  I have to get up early and try to catch my dad or whoever is at that apartment but after that I’m yours.”  I’m yours…I knew he meant for the day or whatever but I still held onto the words as if they meant more.