My Life Next Door(83)

“Now,” Jase observes, “before some or all of that falls apart again, come here.” He leans back against the counter, pulling me between his thighs and smoothing his hands up and down my back.



It’s all so good. My body is singing-happy, my days are full of good moments, my life feels more right than it ever has been before. And that can be, I learn, how it happens. You’re walking along on this path, dazzled by how perfect it is, how great you feel, and then just a few forks in the road and you are lost in a place so bad you never could have imagined it.





Chapter Thirty-six



When I clock out from the B&T the next day, I’m surprised to see the Jetta pulling into the parking lot, and Tim beckoning to me from inside. “I need you,” he calls, pulling up—illegally—in the fire zone.

“What for?” I ask, nonetheless climbing into the car, awkwardly pulling down my short skirt.

“I bagged out on your mom. Well, mostly on Clay. I called and quit. Now I need to get my shit from the office and I need a shield. A—how much do you weigh?—one-hundred-ten-pound shield.”

“One twelve,” I correct. “I don’t even think Clay’s there. He and my mom were doing some factory thing.”

Tim knocks a Marlboro out of the pack stored in the sun visor, sticking it into the corner of his mouth. “I know. I know his schedule.” He taps a finger against his temple. “Maybe I just need you along so I’ll actually do this and not turn chickenshit at the last minute. Maybe I need you to give me a shove in—and out—the door. You gonna help me out?”

I nod. “Sure. But if you’re looking for a shield, Jase is a lot bigger than I am.”

“Yeah, yeah. But lover boy’s busy today, as I’m sure you know.”

I’m not about to admit that I do. Instead I tug my hair out of its braid.

“Man, you’re such a babe.” Tim shakes his head. “Why do all the hot girls want the jocks and the good boys? We losers are the ones who need you.”

I check his expression warily. I’ve never before had any impression Tim was attracted to me. Maybe my new non-virgin state shows. Maybe I radiate smokin’ sex now. Somehow I doubt this, especially in my fetching crested lifeguard jacket and navy spandex skirt.

“Don’t stress.” Tim finally lights the dangling cigarette. “I don’t wanna be that lame guy who comes on to the girl he can’t have. I’m just sayin’.” He makes a wide—and illegal—U-turn to go more quickly in the direction of Mom’s local office. “Wanna smoke?” He drops the Marlboros in my lap.

“I don’t. You know that, Tim.”

“What do you do with your time—with your hands—that’s the thing I can’t figure out.” Tim takes one hand off of the wheel and shakes it at me vigorously, as though he has an uncontrollable twitch. “What do you hold on to?”

I feel my face heat.

Tim smirks at me. “Oh, riiight. I forgot. Besides lover boy and his—”

I hold up my hand in a stop motion, changing the subject before he can finish his sentence. “Is it still hard, Tim, not drinking and stuff? It’s been, what, a month?”

“Thirty-three days. Not that I’m counting. And yeah, of course it’s frickin’ hard. Things only come easy to people like you and Mr. Perfect. For me, it’s like every day—a million times a day—I want to get back together with that scorchin’ girl, aka the quart of Bacardi or the bag of coke or whatever, even though I know she’s only going to screw me over again.”

“Tim, you’ve got to get over this ‘everything’s easy for everyone else’ stuff. It’s not true and it makes you boring.”

Tim whistles. “Channeling Jase, are you?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s just…It’s just watching you and Nan…” I trail off. Is there any point to telling him I know he used her work? What does it matter now? He got expelled. Nan got the awards.

“Watching Nan do what?” Tim asks, picking up on the way my voice wobbles when I say her name. He tosses the butt of the first cigarette out the window, reaching for another.

I hedge. “She’s so stressed out, this summer, already, about colleges.…”

“Yeah, well, we Masons do obsession and compulsion well.” Tim snorts. “I generally stick to compulsion and let Nano handle the obsession, but sometimes we swap. I love my sister, but there’s no rest for either of us. I’m always there to provide her with an object lesson of how much it sucks to screw up, and she’s always there to remind me how miserable she is looking perfect. And, speaking of miserable, here we are.”