Playing with Fire (6 page)

So I explain that I'll be gone with Conrad by then—to
youth group.
I don't tell her that I'd just as soon not meet this guy and that I hope it's nothing serious and that she will soon figure out the Second Street Pub isn't the smartest place to go around picking up boyfriends. But I keep my mouth shut.

“Well, maybe some other time then.” She turns back to her laptop.

“Yeah, maybe so…” I stand there for a few moments as I consider telling her what Ebony told me about Zach's recovery, but then I realize Mom actually looks happy.
Strangely happy. And I'm not used to seeing her look like this. Despite my reservations about this Steven dude, I cannot bring myself to pop her balloon right now. “Have fun tonight,” I say sort of lamely.

“You too, sweetie.” She looks up at me. “But don't get arrested, okay?”

“Same back at you, Mom.”

She gives me her best exasperated look, then just laughs.

“I better go get ready,” I say as I head for the stairs. When I get to my room, I pick up my cell phone and open it. I'm curious enough about Mom's new “boyfriend” to call Conrad and cancel tonight so I can meet this guy. But then I stop. What difference would it really make? I mean, even if the guy had missing teeth and skull tattoos, was wearing black leather and a studded dog collar, even if he drove a Harley without a helmet—what could I possibly say that would change Mom's mind? Chances are, I would only make things worse. Still, as I get dressed for my evening and even as Conrad drives us to youth group, I can't help but wonder what Mom's new guy is like. I try not to let my imagination run away with me, but I guess I really am a little bit worried.

“Everything okay?” Conrad asks as he opens my door and helps me out of his car. He is such a gentleman!

“Huh?” I study him for a moment, taking in his curly red hair, which is cut short for basketball season, and his clear blue eyes. I can't help but return his goofy smile as I try to figure out what he's referring to.

“You were so quiet in the car,” he continues. “Is everything okay? Did I say something to offend you?”

I shake my head and take his para “No, not at all. I guess I'm just obsessing over my mom and her new boyfriend.”

“Your mom has a new boyfriend? What's he like?”

“That's just the problem. I don't have a clue. I haven't even seen him yet. All I know is that she met him at
the Second Street Pub.”

“And
that's
got you worried.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, wouldn't you be worried if it were your mom?”

He laughs. “Considering that my mom is married to my dad, sure, I'd be a little concerned.”

“You're so lucky to have two normal parents.”

“Guess that all depends on how you define
normal
, Sam. They can be pretty weird, if you ask me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He nods. “I guess I am lucky. My parents have their little fights and stuff, but mostly they're happy together. I know that's kinda unusual these days. Alex's parents aren't doing too well.”

“Yeah, I heard they might get separated.” I pause as he opens the door to the restaurant for me. We're doing Mexican tonight, and the smell is already making me hungry.

“It kinda looks that way.”

“Poor Alex.”

“He's taking it harder than you'd think.”

After we're seated at the table, Conrad informs me that Alex wants to ask Olivia out again.

“Really?” I place the napkin in my lap.

“But he's worried she'll turn him down, like last time.”

I laugh. “Isn't that a switch.”

“Do you think she will?”

I consider this, remembering how Olivia had chased after Alex and then pined away when he rejected her. “Well, I have been coaching her on how to play hard to get, but I think she still likes him a lot.”

“Maybe you can give her a hint,” suggests Conrad. “Let her know that Alex might ask her out…and that he's feeling a little down because of his parents.”

“You mean make her feel sorry for him? Like he's a sympathy case? Pity dating?”

Conrad frowns. “Well, not exactly.”

“Sorry. I'll pass it along to her. And if I know Olivia, she'll handle it differently this time.”

“Cool.”

Then we order and just eat and talk about regular stuff, like regular kids doing regular things. And I remind myself of what Pastor Ken told me last month—about how I need balance in my life, how I can't take everything so seriously, and how I need to have some fun.

When we're done eating, I excuse myself to the ladies’ room where, after using the facilities, I slip out my cell phone and call Olivia, giving her a quick heads-up about Alex.

“So are you saying no more playing hard to get with the boy?”

“Well…you don't want to look too eager, Liwie, but if you do want to go out with him, you'd better say yes this time. He might not have the confidence to ask again.”

She laughs. “Gotcha!”

“See ya at youth group.”

As it turns out, the timing was good, because before the evening is over, Alex and Olivia seem to be friendlier
than usual. And the next day when she picks me up for church, she tells me Alex said he was interested in taking her out.

“And what did you say?”

“For starters, I didn't jump up and down and yell, Yes! Yes! Yes!’ I was very relaxed about the whole thing, and I simply told him that sounded okay to me.”

“You said it sounded
okay?”
I repeat. “Like curb your enthusiasm, girl.”

She smiles. “Hey, he was fine with that.”

“Well, good for him.”

“And he suggested we go out with you and Conrad again.”

“Cool.”

“That's what I thought.” She frowns now. “I was thinking about something else too.”

“What?”

“I think maybe I should quit Stewed Oysters.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that after what happened on Friday night, especially if Jack was really involved.”

“I'm going to tell Cameron tomorrow.”

“Are you going to tell him why?”

“I think that's only fair.”

“Well, good for you.” I nod as she pulls into the church parking lot. “He needs to hear it. I mean, it's possible that Cameron isn't into any of that stuff, but if he keeps Jack in the band, it'll probably get them all into trouble.”

“That's how I feel too.” She turns off the car. “And my parents are adamant about it.”

“You can't really blame them.”

“So how did your mom's big date go last night?” she asks as we walk toward the church building. I told Olivia about it last night at youth group. I wanted her to pray for them.

“I'm not really sure. Mom got home after I went to bed. It was a little past midnight. But she didn't stumble in drunk and break something. And she was still asleep when I left this morning.”

“Aren't you dying to meet this guy?”

“Actually, I'd rather not meet him.”

“Huh?”

“I'm hoping it was just a one-time thing. I'd rather see my mom dating someone she didn't meet at a bar, you know what I mean?”

Olivia nods as we go inside. “Yeah, I totally get that.”

“Sometimes it feels like I’.m the parent and Mom is the kid,” I whisper to her as we find seats.

Olivia squeezes my arm. “And you're such a good little mommy, Sam.”

I laugh as we sit down. “Yeah, right.”

Olivia drives me home from church, and we both ‘ notice a strange car in my driveway. “Who's at your house?” She pulls in behind it.

“I don't know.” I study the small black sports car. “But that looks like a nice set of wheels.”

“It's a BMW. And pretty new too, which means it was expensive. Hey, maybe it's your mom's new boyfriend — maybe he's loaded.”

“Yeah, that thought occurred to me too…” I thank her for the ride, ask her to pray for me, and approach my house with more than a little hesitation. I am so not ready
for this. The thought of a strange man in my house… dating my mom…sitting on our furniture…well, it's just totally unnerving. I shoot up a silent prayer.
Dear God, help me to be civilized and nice and friendly and kind and not grumpy or rude or judgmental, Amen.

Today's sermon was on hospitality and showing kindness to strangers. It figures.

T
o my surprise, Steven Lowry appears to be all I right. No tattoos (that I can see), no studded dog collars, or missing teeth. He has short, thick brown hair and dark, somewhat expressive eyes. He's clean-shaven and speaks intelligently. He's wearing pressed khakis, a white polo shirt, and moccasin loafers without socks, which means he's style conscious. Oh yeah, and his ankles are tan, and so are his arms and face, which means he's been somewhere warm and sunny lately since it's only March and, in the Northwest, not quite tanning weather yet. Or else he likes tanning booths, and call me conservative, but that just seems a little weird for a guy.

So anyway, he does seem sort of nice, and I'm thinking Mom has pretty good taste. Except for one thing— I'm not sure how old he is, but I suspect by the way he talks and acts that he's younger than she is. I'm guessing midthirties at the most. And he seems a little surprised when he meets me. Oh, he doesn't say as much, but I can see it in his eyes. Apparently she told him she has kids but didn't mention our ages. Anyway, I think he was expecting little kids. I wonder if she has told him about Zach…or rehab. I doubt it.

“So, how old are you, Samantha?” he asks as we all sit in the family room drinking iced tea that my mom must've made before I got here.

“Seventeen. I'm a junior.”

He nods, then turns to my mom. “How old is your son, Beth? I forgot his name already.”

“Zachary. He's twenty.” She doesn't mention anything about rehab, and I can tell by the look she tosses my way that I better not either.

Steven's brows lift ever so slightly, then he smiles. “You must've been a child yourself when you had children.”

She laughs as she pushes back a strand of her recently highlighted hair, something I encouraged as a way to cover the gray that had made her look even older than forty-one. “Actually, I was a little young by today's standards. But back then I thought I was fairly grown-up.”

Does she think by saying this it'll magically shave off a few years? I mean, I know girls my age who've had babies, but add twenty years to that, and you still get thirty-seven. But thirty-seven probably sounds a lot better to my mom than forty-one. Especially if Steven is like thirty-one, which seems entirely possible.

“So, what do you do, Steven?” I ask, suddenly feeling like I've become the “man” of the house and am asking my daughter's new beau whether his intentions are honorable or not.

“I'm a financial planner.”

“Is that sort of like a stockbroker?”

He smiles. “That and a few other things too—insurance, mutual funds. I try to help people build a solid financial plan that ensures a comfortable future.”

“And have you lived in Brighton long?” I decide to continue my little inquisition. What can it hurt?

“No, actually, I'm a newcomer.”

“Really?” I glance at Mom to see whether she's taking offense at my line of questioning, but she actually looks slightly amused, which I interpret as a green light. “Where did you move from?”

“Southern California.” He shakes his head. “It was getting too crazy down there for me. Too many people on the beaches, too much traffic on the highways. So I decided to check out the beautiful Northwest, and after a couple of weeks here last fall, I decided I liked it. Lucky for me, my company had an office up here, and I was transferred last month.”

I guess that explains the tan. “So, you must not have any family or ties to keep you in California then?” Okay, this is my way of trying to determine if the guy's been married or has any children.

“I have some family down there. My mom's still in Pasadena, and I have a brother and his wife in San Diego. But that's about it.” He glances at Mom now. “Your daughter would make a good detective.”

Mom just smiles. “She takes after her dad.”

He slowly nods with an expression that tells me he's already heard about my dad being a cop and about how he died.

“And since I'm new in town,” he continues, “I was really happy to get to know your mom and her friend Paula. Other than my co-workers, who all seem to have lives of their own, I don't really know anyone here yet.”

“I hope you like it here,” I say as I stand up. Somehow I think it's time for me to give this guy a break.

“Yes, I warned him that we get a lot of rain,” says Mom.

“It's too gloomy for some people,” I say as I head to the kitchen to drop off my glass.

“I'm looking forward to it,” he says as I come back through.

Then I tell him it was nice to meet him and excuse myself to go upstairs. As I leave, I think I see a wave of relief washing over my mom's face. Well, what did she expect me to do? Welcome him with open arms? Give him the keys to the castle? At least I didn't tell the poor guy about Zachary's drug problems or how I get visions from God or how old Mom really is. Honestly, it could've gone much, much worse.

On Monday morning Amanda's sweet-sixteen party is the hot topic at school. I'm not sure if Amanda is as pleased as she thought she'd be, since I heard her parents grounded her for an undetermined amount of time. But to be fair, I think they should ground themselves as well. I mean, what kind of parents throw a huge party like that for high-school kids and then take off? What were they thinking? As it turns out, some kids really did get into trouble. A lot of the alcohol and substance charges will probably stick. It sounds like a fair number of kids will probably be taking mandatory diversion classes—where the system teaches them about the effects of alcohol abuse. Unfortunately, I suspect that some of the hard-core users got away without being arrested. But that's probably the way it usually goes.