September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series (27 page)

I hated that about him.

As far as I could tell, Angels exit
strategy depended entirely on Deanna being okay with Angel skipping
out on her own graduation. But Angel was determined—no matter the
sacrifice—that she would make the tour and the only way that was
going to happen was if she got permission to leave. The flipside
was; if we followed our instinct and just ran off, someone would
give chase, and Jake couldn’t have that inconvenience. So that was
the choice I was leaning towards.

I watched Angel busy herself; making
her bed and a pallet before leaving the room to pop some popcorn.
She brought back drinks and a movie and kept moving around the
room, a bundle of nervous energy, sifting through the bags of
clothes I brought over.

“You haven’t talked to her?” It didn’t
sound like a question.

Angel shook her head and squeaked out,
“I tried.”

“Chill out. I’ll tell her for you.” I
almost cringed, hearing the words come out of my mouth. I hadn’t
planned on offering.

“You would?” Her voice went had gone
up at least two octaves; it was hope rising, taking her voice along
with it.

“It makes perfect sense.” I reasoned,
“You told Jake you’d do it. Now, he’s not here for you to fall back
on. That only leaves me.” It was true, but I felt like a douche
saying it.

Honestly, I didn’t want to get
involved. Angel never liked like the way I handled things. She
thought I was too forward, too gruff or some shit. But I couldn’t
help myself. She’d made up her mind to go and I had no choice but
to go along. She was my only family.

“He offered,” she looked down at the
floor. “I told him no.”

“I’ll do it. It’s not a problem.
Besides, I’m much better at speaking your mind than you are.” I
sighed, only half-kidding, and stared at the clock. “It’s late. We
should get some rest. The Foster will be off work in a few
hours.”

Even though I’d put my foot in it, I
figured me talking to Deanna couldn’t be the worst thing in the
world. Worst case scenario, she’s say no and we’d leave undeterred.
Jake would be pissed, but that wasn’t really a concern.

I was still glad I stayed over—I
didn’t like Angel being alone with Austen. Angel swore he was
alright, but I didn’t trust his greedy eyes that lingered a little
too long on my friend when she wasn’t looking. I wanted to be there
in case he said something to her—but we’d lucked out, Austen left
not long after I got here.

I was staring off into space when
Angel poked me in the ribs with the rim of the popcorn bowl. The
lights were off and the small television on her dresser was turned
on. Opening credits were already rolling.

“Earth to Avery. What is going
on?”

“Nothing—I want this trip to work out
for you.”

Angels’ entire face lit up. She smiled
so wide, I wondered how much further her skin could stretch before
it ripped. “Me, too.”

It felt rare to see her so deeply
happy. Only Jake could push her to a pointed extreme: make her glow
with delight or fade into a depressed vacuum. Lucky for him, he
kept her dreamy-eyed most of the time. Just then, she was radiant
and it was a sight.

“Everything will work out the way it
needs to.” I assured her. We’d planned on using my mom’s old car.
It was a total hoopty that she never drove, but would get us into
Tempe.

“Thirty-nine hours,” she
sang.

It was as if Angels’ enthusiasm poured
into me, washing my frustration away. And then my feet suddenly had
a mind of their own. They shot out in front of me, stomping with
excitement, rattling the floor, shaking the trailer.

Angel pulled out two wide sheets of
newsprint and squealed at the bands publicity photos. Thanks to
Pierce, Analog Controller had landed a two-page spread in a Phoenix
weekly circular. The paper featured them as ‘The Band to Watch.’
The photos showed the three of them, standing shoulder to shoulder.
They had these bad-ass looks on their faces that made me roll my
eyes and Angel giggle, but every other girl probably thought they
looked tough and sexy.

Angel nearly died a few days before
when Jake showed up with his hair shaved down. He had just come
back from that photo shoot with the paper and went straight to her
house to show her. He told her that he knew she liked his hair
longer so he only planned for a trim, but his regular barber was
out. Another guy cut his hair and messed it all up. So Jake had him
use the clippers. It was now only about two inches long. Jake
wasn’t going to let himself be photographed with a shitty
haircut.

Angel said she wanted to cry, but it
wasn’t like Jake needed her permission. And I liked the way it
looked. It made him look dangerous. Besides, the shape of his head
was nice and round. No flat spots or lumps. No scars.

I let Angel rattle on over the
pictures while I sat back down, losing myself to deeper thoughts.
We’d been disagreeing more than usual lately—not fighting, just not
sharing the same opinion on everything anymore and that was weird.
It was Jakes’ influence. He was changing her. So long as Angel was
happy.

It was guilt that made me offer to
talk to Deanna, she was a tough lady. I was determined to convince
her to let Angel go. Even if it meant that she wouldn’t come
back.

“I’m going with you, right?” I asked,
needing the reassurance.

Angel turned from the television to
face me. She looked sleepy. “What?”

“I’m going with you to California,
right?”

Angels’ mouth curved up at the edges.
“How could I go without my other half? You’re my best friend and
you’re already eighteen.”

Something about the way she said it,
sent my mind into overdrive. Planning, making the adult decisions
on when and where to push, crafting a way to make what needed to
happen, happen. And in the midst of that, we were both so excited
we had to make ourselves settle down enough to sleep.

3
1

—Avery

Angel snoozing was on the floor beside
me, curled into a tiny ball with her mouth hanging open. A line of
spittle led to a damp circle on her pillow.

The screen door slammed shut,
signaling Deanna’s arrival. I stumbled my way down the hall to the
kitchen where Angel’s foster mom was unloading groceries into the
refrigerator. She smiled when she saw me peeking in from the hall.
I waved.

“Good morning, Sunshine. How are you
this fine day?” She was nauseatingly cheerful. It was almost unfair
for me to be the one witnessing the good mood. Angel loved that
stuff. She ate it up.

“Good.”

“Was Austen bothering you last
night?”

“No,” I shook my head. “He went out
after all.”

Deanna extended a hand bearing a
prepackaged blueberry muffin. “You want coffee? You must have been
up all night.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Bags.” Her two fingers traced the
valley below her own eyes, in gesture.

“Actually, I wanted to talk. Well, to
ask you something.” I set the muffin on the counter.

I’d try
nice
first.

Deanna leaned back against the stove,
arms crossed. “I’m all ears.”

I was already sensing an impasse. “You
know Jake’s band? Well, they’re playing tomorrow night in Tempe
and—” Deanna was already shaking her head. “But you know how
much—”

“No.”

“Please! It would mean everything.” I
had to choose my words carefully when talking with Deanna. She was
always a little too observant. A little too sharp and a lot too
stubborn.

“Not a wise idea. That relationship
has gotten too serious and Tempe is too far away.”

I lowered my voice and
stepped in very close. “No. It’s not too far. And I wasn’t
really
asking
for
permission.”

Deanna slapped her hands on her hips,
wasting no time getting all turkey-necked. “I won’t have this-this
attitude. What has gotten into you?”

I stepped back, composing myself. I
couldn’t be that way with Angels’ Foster. It wouldn’t end well for
anyone. I thought of what Angel would say and used that as my
argument. “It’s just music. It’s one weekend.”

“There’s a lot more to it than that
and you know it. Money. Transportation. Supervision. Curfews. That
Doctor Williams wants me to meet with me. No. There’s too much
going on.” She reached for her purse spread across the far counter
and was suddenly holding a cigarette. I looked at her,
semi-surprised—I thought she’d quit.

“I started again.” Deanna announced,
holding the cigarette with her teeth, answering my unspoken
question as she lit up and took a long drag. Her muscles relaxed as
she exhaled. The smoke streamed from her nostrils like two steam
pipes. “We’ve talked about running off like that, and nothing has
changed since the last conversation. Or has it?”

I wasn’t going to let her
drag me into whatever direction she thought the conversation needed
to go. So I ignored her question, deciding to take a more direct
approach. “You know, the eighteen year mark isn’t far away. And we
have
all
decided
to go to California. Together.”

“So, ‘we’ includes the too-old
boyfriend?” She raised her head, eyes darting to the ceiling and
wiped at her mouth.

I nodded. “Him and his band that will
be signing a two-record deal with a label the moment they land in
LA.” I breathed slowly, mechanically moving forward again. “You
need to let us go.”

Deanna’s eyes suddenly cooled. She
flicked the ashes of her cigarette onto the kitchen floor. “Are you
stepping to me, little girl?”

I flung my palms out, slapping them
against her shoulders. Deanna stumbled back, shocked, but didn’t
fall.

“No.” I answered, my voice firm as I
glared, willing the hollowed out core I kept so carefully concealed
to show, just for a moment. Deanna needed to see what I could do so
she would know why she shouldn’t shove back. Her eyes widened for a
moment, but she didn’t move.

“You’ve never been put out by this
foster care situation.” I began to explain; wondering if the path
of least resistance was the lesser of two evils. I had to consider
my next step. If she gave me another reason to push I would,
without a doubt.

“You’ve always been
comfortable, because you’ve never been asked to
do
anything. And just so you
understand, I’m
not
asking. I’m telling you: we are going out to California. We
are not coming back. All you need to do is continue to be
comfortable. To do nothing.”

Deanna’s dark skin paled as I took
away the last inch between us. “In a few hours, when that bedroom
is empty, your responsibilities as a foster parent are officially
over and you get to keep the next few checks. It’s a good deal for
you.”

“Austen! Austen, get out here!” Deanna
called to the hallway behind her while backing towards the living
room.

“He’s not back from his girlfriends.”
I reminded her and could have kicked myself for offering such a
glaringly normal response in the middle of this unprecedented
assault. I was going for bad-ass and informative didn’t
fit.

Deanna took advantage of my
distraction and moved into the space behind the end table at the
far end of the living room. I told myself to get my head in the
game and eyed her, closing the gap between us once more,
effectively blocking her path to the door.

Deanna had always reminded me of a
chocolate bar. She was dark, smooth and smelled sweet. She was also
a little nutty sometimes so I had to watch my step.

“So help me God, I will call that case
worker right now if you don’t back-up.”

“No.”

“Now.” She grabbed the cordless phone
on the arm of the small couch beside her.

“You’re not calling anyone.” The tight
balls of my fists pounded the words into my thighs.

This was not the outcome I wanted. Not
that I thought convincing Deanna would be easy. When I promised to
ask her about the concert, I was going to avoid temptation and
reason with her, but she didn’t let me even explain.

She went right for the
throat and that meant I had to go further. I thought over our short
exchange, trying to piece together what might have set it
off.
Would a simple apology set things
right?
She was usually lenient when she
felt she was in control. But, then there was still the problem of
leaving.

I knew how to handle Deanna, but my
way was definitely not the recourse Angel hoped for. In fact she’d
totally disapprove. But I was cornered; she had the phone and made
a threat. She’d taken away the alternatives and sealed everyone’s
fate.

I dropped my shoulders. “Deanna, I’m
not trying to hurt you.”

“Damn right.” She didn’t sound like
she was scared, but I examined her tight posture, her cornered
positioning behind the end table, as my mind explored the
possibilities.