Pretend You Love Me (7 page)

I don’t remember starting the truck.

“Hold on a minute,” Faye called.

“Shit,” Xanadu hissed under her breath. “Just go.”

I turned off the ignition.

“Dammit.”

“Sorry,” I said. I felt I should respect Faye’s wishes. This was her house.

Faye disappeared inside the mudroom and I said, “She probably forgot about those other hundred tea towels in the cellar.”

Xanadu snorted.

I hoped I was forgiven.

A moment later Faye came back out balancing two pies, one in each hand. She handed them to me through the open window. Yes!
I was famished. From her apron pocket, Faye removed a jar of jam and offered it to me. “I bought a bushel more strawberries
at the market than I needed. Take these to your mother. You and Darryl enjoy them too.”

“Thanks,” I said, setting the pies beside me on the seat, then changing my mind and transferring them to the back. We didn’t
need anything between us. The pie plates fit perfectly inside two toilet seat rims behind me. I slid the jam in the front
pocket of my duffel.

Faye peered around me at Xanadu. “Be back by dark.”

Xanadu expelled an audible sigh.

Faye added, “You’ll want to be here when your probation officer calls.”

My head whipped around.

Xanadu snarled, “Let’s go.” She folded her arms. “Oh wait. I need my purse.” She pulled up the door lever and leaped out the
passenger side. Eyeing Faye across me, she added, “I keep my drugs in it. In case you were checking.” Xanadu left the door
swinging free and dashed toward the house.

“I think that was a joke,” I said to Faye.

She didn’t smile. I kept my eyes on the screen door, willing Xanadu to reappear—now. Faye remarked, “She’s a piece of work,
isn’t she?”

Work of art, I thought. What could I say? Our opinions differed.

Xanadu returned, sliding in beside me and slamming the door.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s fly.”

I revved up the truck again and shifted into gear. Faye’s eyes stayed on my face as I circled the drive. What? Did she think
I wouldn’t get Xanadu home before dark? I’d get her home.

Once on the road Xanadu wrinkled her nose at the radio. “I hate country,” she said. She fiddled with the knob to find another
station.

“Good luck,” I replied through the static. On a good day we could get two FM stations out of Goodland. Both country. “You
can listen to the farm report on AM,” I told her.

Xanadu widened her eyes at me, then laughed. I felt the heat rise between my legs. Her eyes looked brighter today. Clearer.
Cleaner. She wasn’t wearing all that gunk. Not that it mattered how she expressed herself, but she was a natural beauty. She
didn’t need
enhancements. She punched off the radio and leaned her head against the seat back. “Thank you for coming,” she said, closing
her eyes. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

I felt your need, I almost whispered. The pull of you.

“I don’t care where we go, I just need to get the hell out of here for a while.”

I didn’t care where we went either. I just wanted to spend every waking moment with her.

We tooled down the rutted road at a leisurely sixty-five mph. I figured she was a girl who liked speed. She flung an arm out
the window to catch the breeze and parted her lips, seeming blissful and at peace. I was right.

“What was the score?” Her voice rose over the wind.

“What?”

She’d turned her head. “Of your game.”

“Oh. Nine to eight, first game. We won. Twelve-zip, second game.”

“Ouch. Your twelve?”

I nodded.

Her eyes fixed on my biceps. “All-State, huh? I guess that’s a big deal around here, huh?”

Was she being sarcastic? “It’s big,” I said flatly.

She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mike. I don’t mean to… you know. Demean your life.” She pressed the button on the glove
box and it popped open.

I panicked. What was in there? Dad’s hip flask? Jamie’s grass? Once I found a package of condoms, obviously Darryl’s. Made
me wonder what he really did on his road trips to Goodland.

She didn’t rummage through the crap, just shut the flap and said, “I know you think I’m this rich city bitch who has no appreciation
for the joys of boonie living.”

I smiled. “No. I don’t think that.”

“What
do
you think of me?” She paused for a second before adding, “Don’t answer that.”

I almost blurted the truth, that I thought she was perfect in every way. “I… I think you’re cool,” I said.

A joyful smile lit up her face. I’d made her happy. I pledged to make her happy every day in every way.

We were nearing the stoplight and I was racking my brain about what to do in town. She’d want to have fun, but what was fun
for her? We didn’t have a movie theater. No clubs. Just the Lucky Strike Lanes. I’m sure.

Xanadu said, “I didn’t mean to lie to you before, Mike. About what happened to Tiffany. It’s just, I didn’t know how you’d
react when I told you I killed someone.”

My foot slammed on the brake. “What!”

“And now I know,” she added coolly.

The light was green so I pulled ahead into the empty lot at the grain elevators. People shouldn’t joke about death. Not even
her. “That whole ecstasy thing, that girl dying, that was just a story you made up?”

Xanadu frowned. “No. Of course not. It happened. The only difference…” She paused. “The truth is…” She let out a ragged breath.
“The truth is, I’m the one who sold Tiffany the E.”

My eyes might’ve bugged out of my head.

“Yeah,” Xanadu said. “I was her dealer.”

“Jesus.”

She lowered her head, then covered her face with her hands. “I know. It was bad. I got charged with possession. And, um, distribution
of a controlled substance.” She uncovered her face, but kept her head down. “I’ve got a police record now. And I’m expelled
from school. Thank God they tried me in juvenile court or I could’ve gone to jail.”

“Jesus,” I said again.

“I know.” She met my eyes. “But I spent forty-five days in detention and paid a thousand-dollar fine and did sixty hours of
community service to repay Tiffany’s family.” Xanadu repeated, “Repay her family. Like I could ever do that.” Her eyes welled
with tears. “I never lied about it in court. I never blamed anyone. Tiffany’s death was all my fault and I’ll have to live
with that for the rest of my life. I have to live with it. Every. Fucking. Day.” She buried her face in her hands again and
started to cry.

“Hey.” I reached over to touch her arm or something. Make contact. “Hey.” It was all I could think to say.

Xanadu sniffled and swiped her nose with her forearm. “What do you think of me now?” she said.

“I think you’re b—” I almost said it. Because she was, beautiful. She’d made a mistake. She admitted it. She’d paid for it.
She was still paying. We’ve all been there. “I think you’re brave,” I told her.

“What?” She blinked and her eyes grew wide. “Really?”

“Yeah. For telling the truth. For owning up to it. That had to be hard.”

“It was. God, Mike. It was so hard.” With her palms, she blotted her tears and smiled tentatively at me. I smiled back. My
hand was on the cushion and she reached over and covered it with hers. “You’re great.” Her fingers curled under my palm. “You
know that? You get me.”

Heat surged through my body. Yeah, I got her.

Xanadu added, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“I came here to get away. From everybody. Everything. I’m still on probation, but Dad arranged for me to stay with Aunt Faye
and Uncle Lee. He thought maybe if I got a fresh start…” She swallowed hard. “I can’t believe you’re okay with this. It’s
like… you don’t even care.”

I cared. I cared about her and what she was going through.

“I’m glad I found you,” she said quietly, increasing the grip on my hand. “After it happened, after I got charged, everyone
turned against
me, all my friends. Even my best friend dumped me. God.” Her eyes welled again. “I really need a friend.”

I needed more than a friend. I needed her to stay like this forever, stay close, hold my hand, trust me. I threaded my fingers
through hers and pulled her hand closer.

She straightened in her seat. “Come on,” she said, giving my fingers a final squeeze, then releasing them, and me. “Let’s
go have some fun.”

She was a girl, right? Girls liked to shop. The best clothes shopping in Coalton was at the Merc. Everett stocked a decent
selection of jeans and tees and long skirts and coats. There was this black canvas Carhartt jacket I’d been drooling over
since last winter.

I couldn’t picture Xanadu in any of those clothes, though. They were hick duds.

What else? Food? Eating topped
my
list of enjoyable activities. I was a girl, to some degree. Everyone liked to eat. I decided on the Dairy Delite. There was
no other choice, really.

The Dairy D looked deserted. Jamie must’ve been in the john. At the takeout counter, I called, “Hello. Anybody home?” Jamie
shot to his feet. He’d been crouching on the floor in front of the frozen custard machine, dispensing a stream of chocolate
soft-serve directly into his mouth. I sighed at Xanadu. “Meet Jamie. Jamie, Xanadu.”

Jamie looked from me to her. A grin spread across his face, ear to earringed ear. “So you’re the infamous Xanadu.” He leaned
across the counter and waggled a finger in her face. “I heard about you, girl.”

A look of terror streaked through her eyes.

“Not from me,” I said quickly.

“You’re the talk of Coalton,” Jamie said. “Meth-heads. God. I would’ve loved to have been there to see Glinda’s face when
you said that.”

“Glinda?” Xanadu asked me.

“Mrs. Stargell,” I explained. “It isn’t her real name.”

Xanadu’s brow furrowed.

“Jamie makes up names for people.”

“Not true.” He shook his head from side to side. “I give identity to one’s inner being. I visualize their essence.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ask him what he calls his mother.”

Xanadu arched eyebrows at Jamie.

“Elle s’appelle Geneviève,” he said with a fake French accent. So queer.

Xanadu laughed. She was indulging him. Not a good idea. “Make up a name for me,” she told him.

“Honey,” he said, “your essence has already been identified and personified by your name.”

That was true. She was the embodiment of poetry.

Jamie slapped the countertop. “What can I get you, girls? The special today is the chili cheese dog, but I don’t recommend
it. The buns are hard as day-old dicks and the hamburger was looking a little E. coli, if you know what I mean. The curly
fries are hot and fresh cuz I just made a new batch. Well, half a batch now.” He tilted his head. “We’re running low on custard
too, don’t ask me why.” He stuck an index finger into his right dimple and twisted it.

Xanadu laughed again. “You,” she said, pointing to him. “Both of you are going to save my life.”

Ditto, I thought.

Jamie quipped, “We’re out of Life Savers. We have gobs of sprinkles for sundaes, though.” His tongue, I saw, was a hideous
shade of green and pink and orange. “Oh hey, Mike. Kung Pao called over a few minutes ago.”

“Shit.” I glanced at my watch. Twenty after three. “Listen, I’ve got to go drop the truck off for Darryl. Take care of Xanadu,
will you? I’ll be right back.”

Jamie eyed the length of her. “I’m not sure what to do, seeing as how I’m not that kind of boy.”

I shot him a silent warning: Shut it off.

She made some remark I didn’t hear as I tore to the truck. Jamie had her laughing, anyway.

I parked at the curb and honked, left the keys in the ignition, then sprinted the eight blocks back to the Dairy D. Xanadu
had ordered onion rings and a Mr. Mistee, and was sitting across from Jamie at the outdoor picnic table. He’d fixed us our
usual—a raspberry Mistee and an order of curly fries to share.

“What do you do around here for fun?” Xanadu asked him as I eased in beside her.

“You mean instead of this?” He lassoed a curly fry in the air.

She sipped on her Mistee. Sitting so close to her, the charged air between us made the hair on my arms stand up.

Jamie tapped his chin. “Let’s see. Mike is into Internet porn.”

I lunged across the table and slugged him in the chest.

“Hey, owie.” He rubbed his pec. “Don’t damage the merch.”

“You were damaged from birth,” I muttered.

“You’re the one with hormone deficiency.”

Xanadu laughed. “You are both so gay—” She stopped. She swiveled to face me. “I didn’t say that.”

Jamie said, “Use it or lose it.” He flapped a limp wrist at her.

I hated when he got this way. All show-offy, exhibitionist. He validated the stereotype. He played to it. Exhaling an irritated
breath, I scooted out the end of the bench and said, “Anyone else want ketchup?”

Jamie raised his hand. “I do. I do.”

I bent his hand back until cartilage crunched.

On my way to the gallon jug out front, I heard Xanadu say to Jamie, “Um, is it okay to talk about it?”

“About what?” Jamie said. “Us being gay? It’s not like it’s a secret. Look at me. Am I flaming, or what?”