Someone to Love(18)
I glance out the window at the Beamer nestled next to my truck. Jackie made a point to gift Kenny with a car she could borrow until she got on her feet. Typical Jackie, buying people off with my father’s money—with the exception of me, of course.
“Morning.” Kenny comes up unexpected and gravels it out in my ear with a moan. She’s wearing the same T-shirt as the night before. Her legs spear out, long and lean, as if they were carved from butter. An image of her sitting on top of me filters through my mind—I can see her eyes partially closed, her neck arched with pleasure.
“Merry Christmas.” I follow her out to the living room and hand her a bag of ornaments from Mom’s bucket-o-holiday crap.
“Merry Christmas.” She gives a shy smile.
I watch as she lands the bulbs on the tree and try to forget about the passing pornography that just swept through my mind. Can’t help it though. She’s a fantasy come to life, and she just so happens to be walking in my living room with her hair dripping wet, her face scrubbed clean, without a stitch of makeup and still manages to look like a supermodel.
My phone vibrates in my jeans, and I pluck it out to find Blair’s face smirking back at me.
Shit.
I’m quick to silence it and bury it in my pocket.
My blood runs cold from the visual. I haven’t heard from her in so long—not that I care. I could go forever without seeing or hearing from her ever again.
“You going to get that?” She tilts into me. “I can leave the room if you want.”
“Nope. Not important.” Not important? There’s a first.
“So tell me all about your family.” Her pale eyes light up as she dips into the bin and picks up the star. “I feel like we’re related now. Is that weird?”
“We’re definitely not related.” The last thing I want to be is her brother. I’m gunning for something a little more… what the hell am I gunning for? I pause to take her in and wonder what I might be getting myself into. I haven’t had a real feeling in months. Not quite sure how to categorize Kenny, yet. “You and Penn though”—I give a slight nod—“that’s practically bordering on incest.”
“Can you believe Jackie had the balls to get us matching purses?” She gives a soft laugh, and her boobs bounce in rhythm.
“Yup. That’s Jackie in a nutshell. The woman’s got balls, that’s for sure.”
“So what happened? She break things up between your mom and dad?”
“Nah, they were over before Jackie ever came into the picture. He did say he had one great love, and he let her get away—he said he always regretted that one. But Jackie, she’s like crap on the bottom of your shoe. Once she shows up it’s pretty hard to get rid of her. Pen is all right though. For the most part, I hardly see them.”
“Was that awkward for you last night?” She pulls her lips down and looks adorable as hell in the process.
She smells good, clean like watermelon and cucumbers. Her lips are full and slightly glossed. They’re calling me over to them, but I resist.
“Nope, not awkward. I had planned on stopping by anyway. Jackie’s nice enough, so long as I stay out of their way the rest of the year.”
“Oh.” She fondles the star in her hand and her features dim, so I plug it in and it glows through her fingers like magic. “Pretty.” She holds it up a moment. “Was he around for you much? You know—was he still a good dad?”
For some reason my childhood has clouded her mood, and I’m sorry Andrew’s crappy parenting has the power to dampen her Christmas spirit.
“He came to a few football games when I played. Saw him at graduation. He’s been hitting all the right highlights. Pen’s the one that reeled him in though. He got the tossing-the-ball-in-the-backyard version. The one who took the family to Hawaii every year for summer vacation.” I don’t mention the fact I could count on one hand the amount of times we’ve spent together, or the fact “Jackie the Jack Ass” made sure to make me feel excluded the few times I was around. “How about you? What’s your story?” She hands me a bag of giant red bulbs. I remember these. I used to think we were leaving fake apples for Santa and that’s why he outright avoided us some years.
“Well,” she begins, “my mom is vying for ‘serial bride’ of the century. My brother and I moved a lot—seven different schools. It was hard to always be the new girl. My dad is a lawyer in Oregon where he lives with his new and improved family. I haven’t seen him since I was four—he split from my mom long before that. Rumor has it I have six siblings. They live on a farm, and his new wife makes candles. My brother is at school up there, and I guess they’re speaking again. So it’s just me out in the cold.” She purses her lips while untangling the wire from the frosted star in her hands. “I don’t care though.”