Mean Season (15 page)

I think I shrugged.

“But besides, look at you now, living with a movie star.”

“Only literally,” I said. “He's more a houseguest. Or house-arrest guest, you could say.”

“Man, if Joshua Reed was living in my apartment, I'd be all over him, night and day.”

I smiled at her and wished I had a beer. I thought maybe skank had been accurate after all.

“Max Campbell is sure looking good. I been thinking about asking him out, myself,” Loreen went on. “We talk whenever he comes into the Buck.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said. “What would you ask him to do?”

Loreen looked at me funny. “I don't know. The usual, I guess.”

I wondered what her usual was. “I thought he was still hung up on Charlene,” I said. “I always hear that.”

Loreen frowned. “You think?” she asked. “I guess, maybe. But I see him out. Not so often as Lionel or Paulie, but out.”

“You see him with girls out?” I asked.

Loreen shrugged. “But you know how they say that the best cure for a girl is another girl,” Loreen said.

“Who says that?” I asked.

“It's just a saying,” she said.

I figured I was pretty much done talking to Loreen for the night, so I told her that I needed a beer, and she nodded and let me walk away. On the way to the beer cooler, I looked around for Max, but I didn't see him anywhere.

 

“So you having a good time?” Lionel asked. He'd come up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Josh mentioned you were kind of tense,” he said, kneading his fingers around.

“I'm not tense,” I said. But I think getting defensive like that kind of proved it.

“Hey, if it's about the party,” Lionel said. “I didn't realize you didn't know. Sorry about that. It wasn't meant to be a surprise.”

He kept massaging my shoulders. I remembered as he did how Lionel was one of those too-hard massagers. There was too much kneading and pinching, so that I always ended feeling more wound up than before he began.

“You guys really brought the works, didn't you? Down to my favorite mustard.”

“That was me,” Lionel said, and I took the opportunity to turn all the way around, so I could face him, but also so he would have to let go of my shoulders.

“Hey, thanks, Lionel,” I said. “Nice of you to remember.”

“Anything for you, little lady,” he said. He said it with a drawl, like he was John Wayne or someone. I winced. Lionel always used that twang when he was giving a compliment or gearing up to be sweet. It was like he had to put on an act if he was going to be gentle. Like, the real Lionel, the manly Lionel, would never be caught dead saying “you matter to me.” Instead, some twangy alter-ego was sent in to do the job. I didn't like it when we were dating, and I wasn't in the place for him to be sweet again. I liked Lionel and all, but I'd done enough treading water. That much I knew.

“Leanne and Lionel,” Beau Ray said. He was walking by, and somehow he managed to sing that out and stuff a hotdog into his mouth at the same time.

“Aw, Beau Ray, can't a girl talk to an old flame without it meaning anything?” I asked. But it gave me an excuse to slip out of my one-on-one with Lionel. Beau Ray was fighting a summer cold that had socked him with an ear infection, so I told Lionel that I had to go get my brother's medicine. Lionel said he'd catch up with me later.

 

Scooter cornered me next, but all he wanted to know was where was Sandy. Scooter'd had a thing for Sandy going on
four years at that point, but the barbecue was the first time I'd talked to him alone since finding out that Sandy wasn't ever likely to return his affections. Maybe I'd always known that Scooter was out of luck, but Alice was real confirmation.

“So Sandy's not coming? I sure as heck wish you'd known about this party,” Scooter said. “Reckon you'd have invited her. I guess I should have called her personal.”

“I think she made plans a few weeks ago,” I told him. “She probably couldn't have come anyhow.”

“She ain't been around much this summer,” he said. “You still see her a lot?”

“On and off. You know, she's working in emergency now. I think she needs a lot more down time.”

“She seeing anyone, do you know?” Scooter asked. “Oh, hey Josh,” he said.

I looked up to see Joshua smiling unsteadily at the both of us.

“Is who seeing anyone? Leanne?” he asked.

“Have you met Leanne's friend Sandy?” Scooter asked.

“Have I ever,” Joshua said. “Too bad she's playing on the other team,” he said. “Or—wait—is she on my team? We're on the same team. I think that's right.” He swayed a little bit.

“What's that?” Scooter asked. “What team is that?”

“Joshua's just kidding around,” I said. “You know, he met Sandy early on, and they talked all about baseball.” I gave Joshua my best shut-up stare. He didn't so much shut up as wander off, which worked just as well. I smiled at Scooter.

“She likes baseball?” Scooter said. “Maybe I should invite her to a game.”

I watched him wander back to the grill to add another round of sausages. I'd always liked the fact that Scooter would talk about how much he liked Sandy. I might talk to Sandy about how much I liked Max, but it scared me to death to think about saying anything like that to his face. But
I knew that if Sandy had been at the party, Scooter would have been telling her the same thing he told me. He put himself out there. I was sorry that he wasn't going to get what he wanted, but then, I figured, who did? What percentage?

 

The heat and light of the day were both fading, and it was getting on time for the fireworks. I sat down on a corner of the deck, my legs swinging off.

“Mind if I sit?” Max asked, then dropped beside me before I could answer. He took a sip of his beer and looked out toward the trees and Brown's Field. “Lots of people out tonight,” he said.

“You having a good time?” I asked him. “Everyone being nice to you?”

“Sure. Why wouldn't they be?”

I shrugged.

“I've seen a lot of people I hadn't in a while. Loreen's sure in fine form,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “Why would you say that?”

Max looked like he wasn't sure what he should say next. “You two buddies now?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I talked to her for a little while. That's all.”

“Huh. I never thought the two of you were tight. She probably had too much to drink, that's all,” he said. “It's nothing. Forget it. You like the Fourth?” he asked.

I told him that I liked the general lack of build-up, how it's just one day. The fifth and everything's gone back to normal.

“That's not a very celebratory attitude,” Max said. “It's our country's birthday, after all.”

“I got Beau Ray's birthday at the month's end. That's enough.”

From where Max and I sat, I knew we'd only see the fireworks now and again, the brightest ones that shone through
the leaves, or those that shot so high they cleared the tops of the trees. I didn't want to move though. I liked sitting next to him.

I looked down the length of our yard at all the people milling around, talking, laughing, drinking, and I suddenly hit up against a wave of melancholy, smack dead on. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed really hard, so hard that you go silent and your stomach muscles feel like they're going to give. I turned to Max.

“Am I a bitch?” I asked him.

“What?” he said. He laughed a little, then looked at me harder. “Why are you asking
me
that?”

“You've known me forever. Do you think I take things too seriously? Am I a downer? Am I uptight?”

“Is this about the barbecue?” Max asked.

“You know, I was fine before all this happened. Wasn't I?”

“Sure you were,” Max said. “You've always been.”

“Sure I was. I was fine. I was doing my job. I was going to school. I was happy. Or at least fine.”

Max nodded.

“And now I've got this movie star in my house that everyone's crazy about and I'm the bad guy all the time. Or a loser. Or a hillbilly.”

“You're not the bad guy,” Max said. “I'm sure there's a lot that you see that other people don't see.”

“There is,” I told him. “You have no idea.”

Max smiled. “You're not a bitch, or a loser, or a hillbilly,” he said. “Maybe you're just tired.”

I was very aware of the way our feet and ankles bumped, as both of us swung our legs off the deck. He kept looking at me, and I thought that I noticed him lean in a little bit, so I leaned in a little bit. Most of me was trying to remain all calm, but inside my head, there was this circus of voices saying something like “Oh my God! You're practically kissing Max Campbell!”

But then there was a shriek from someone in the crowd. I thought that the fireworks must have started, but they hadn't, not yet. Max suddenly turned around, so I pulled back. I could see people pointing to our roof, to someone who was up on it.

There's not much to say about the roof of our house on Prospect Street, except that it was slanted, not steep, but not shallow either. I'd been up there only once, when I was a kid and my dad was fixing a leak. I remember holding nails in my hand, and handing them to him one by one each time he asked. I remember him telling me to be very careful because the tiles could get slippery, and there wasn't much to grab if you fell.

“Joshua Reed's on the roof!” someone said.

I stood up. “Hey!” I called out to no one in particular. I left the deck and walked over to where the figure was standing on our roof. “Hey!” I called up to him.

It was Joshua all right. He looked down at me and bobbled a bit.

“Hey, Leanne, favorite fan,” he called down. “Come on up. View's great up here.”

“How did you get up there?” I asked, then saw a ladder leaning against the side of the house.

“Come on up,” he said again.

He lifted his cup in a toast to all of us standing below him, two stories down, but his footing must have slipped. He stumbled backward suddenly, catching himself with one arm, but not before letting go of his drink. A sticky-sweet mix of soda and whiskey poured down. I couldn't duck in time, and got sprayed by it. An ice cube beamed me in the head.

“Whoa!” he said. “My bad. Can someone bring me another Jack and Coke?”

“Why don't you come down?” I said. “It's pretty slick up there.” I tried to wipe his drink out of my hair.

“View's better,” he said. “I got good balance. Who wants to join me up here? Lionel? Where's Scooter?” He looked around at the crowd below him.

“You'll get the same view from Brown's Field,” I told a couple standing beside me. “I'd rather people not go up there.”

It didn't look like Joshua was getting any takers when I headed inside to blot his Jack and Coke from my clothing. In the kitchen were two of the girls I'd seen Joshua talking to earlier on. I wondered if anyone else was wandering through our house.

“Hi,” I said. “I'm Leanne. I don't think we've met.”

“Christy,” one of them said to me. “That's Marsha.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Can I help you find something?”

“Oh, no. We're just looking around.” Christy was staring into our refrigerator. Marsha had a cabinet open.

“Yeah, I live here,” I said. “Can I help you find something?”

Christy shut the refrigerator door. “Oh, I'm sorry!” she said. “How rude.”

I shrugged. I was glad to see that Joshua's drink wasn't leaving a stain on my black T-shirt.

“You live with Josh Reed?” Marsha asked. “She lives with Josh Reed,” she said to Christy.

“I heard,” Christy said.

“We're sort of trying to keep the party outside,” I said. “No offense. It's just, you know, my mother, all these people…”

“Oh, sure,” Christy said.

“Of course,” Marsha said.

I studied them for a moment. They looked like nice girls—a few years younger than I was in years. Maybe more in other ways. Who knows? Maybe less.

“What's it like living with him?” one of them asked.

“I'm so jealous!” the other squealed.

“You want to see his room?” I asked them. Maybe I offered because they were a lot nicer to me than Joshua was. Or else maybe I just wanted them to look at me with even half the interest they'd shown to him.

It was nice to be able to offer something like that, something that people wanted. To have people think you're cool, without having to convince them first. All evening, I'd felt it. People I hadn't seen in ages kept coming up to me, talking to me with a light in their eyes I hadn't sparked before. It was seductive. I had to keep reminding myself to pay attention. I had to keep reminding myself about the drunk girl on our lawn. My celebrity was borrowed. It had an expiration date.

“Follow me,” I told Christy and Marsha, heading toward the stairs.

“This is so cool!” I heard one of them whisper.

Joshua's door was open, and we walked right in. One of the girls stopped at his bed and buried her face in his pillow.

“I'm smelling Josh Reed!” she said.

Joshua's window was open, and I could have sworn that it had been closed just ten minutes earlier. Maybe he hadn't used the ladder after all, I thought. I stuck my head out the window to see if he was still out there. He was, but now he wasn't alone, and I felt a surge of adrenaline sour my stomach. There was Beau Ray, making his way across the roof.

“Hey, man. That's it,” Joshua was saying.

“Beau Ray!” I called out. “Stop!”

Beau Ray stopped where he was and turned his head slowly toward me.

“Hey Beau Ray, that's not cool,” I said. “Come on back inside.”