Manning
Tiffany bounced in place, her eyes closed and her smile big. She'd pulled her hair back into a twisty-bun thing and kept everything simple with a loose sundress and little makeup. She was a natural beauty. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.
It wasn't as if I had the world at my fingertips, just a few places where there weren't any people. I led her away from the dining hall, where all the other counselors were hanging out, to a staff dining area off the kitchen. Gary and I had set it up earlier with a black tablecloth and a tall, white candle.
Tiffany opened her eyes when we stepped inside. "Oh my God," she said. "This is so romantic."
I pulled out a chair for her, then cupped my hand around the candle and lit the wick with my Zippo.
"You went through all this for me?" she asked.
I sat across from her. "You wanted me to prove it. I am."
She studied me. "You really are old-fashioned, aren't you? For a minute, I was worried you didn't like me."
"I like you." At least, I was coming to appreciate things about her. She was adventurous and bold. No girls I knew were as unapologetic about their sexuality. And, she was beautiful. I hated myself for thinking it, but it was true. All the counselors knew it. I'd shut down some of the guys talking about her, had heard some jealous snipes from the other girls.
"I like you, too," she said, sounding surprised. It occurred to me that she might also like other guys. I'd never had trouble getting women, but maybe I couldn't hang on to a girl like Tiffany as long as I wanted. And then what? I'd go back to being alone, trying to keep the past at bay. Drinking, smoking, using my hands to build things for other people. It wasn't a bad life. I slept with who I wanted. I didn't have to watch my mouth or not light my cigs.
"Are you seeing anyone else?" I asked.
She darted her eyes over the table. "Are you?"
"Nope. Are you?" I asked again.
"Well . . . not really. I didn't think you'd care if I did, though."
Bucky came strolling out and made no secret about looking Tiff over. "Dinner's about ready. I asked him what you like in your spaghetti but he didn't know. How's a man not know what his girl likes?"
Dick. I had a feeling he'd been waiting to call me out like that ever since I'd asked him for seconds the day before. I owed him for making us dinner, but if I didn't I'd have told him to fuck off.
"Meatballs, I guess?" Tiffany said with a smile to egg him on. "What else is there?"
"Anything you want, gorgeous. Mushrooms, eggplant, roasted pepper, chicken . . ."
"You mind calling her by her name?" I asked. "We're on a date here."
Tiffany's eyes twinkled. "I'll take some wine if you have it," she said to him. "Otherwise, whatever you made is fine."
"Yeah. Okay." Bucky sucked his teeth and returned to the kitchen.
"You're . . ." She shook her head. "Not like anyone I've dated."
"Same for you."
"Is that a good thing?" she asked.
"I don't know, Tiff. Most girls, I tell them something once and they listen, not three times. Even if Bucky flies to Italy and brings us back a bottle, I already told you, we're not drinking wine."
I prepared for her to argue, but instead she heaved a sigh. "I know. I'm just nervous."
"No you're not."
She smiled, looking up at me from under her lashes. "Yes I am. Usually when I'm alone with a guy, we're either drinking or smoking or there are people in the other room. It feels weird to just be out here in the middle of nowhere on a real date."
Huh. That was something we pretty much had in common. When I brought a girl home, it was probably after a drink or four at my local spot. "Bad weird?"
"No . . ." She picked at nothing on the tablecloth. "Just different. Why'd you ask if I was seeing anyone else?"
For a conversation like this, I needed a fucking cigarette. I guessed that's what Tiffany was talking about, getting too intense without something to take the edge off. "Maybe it's too early for that."
"Yeah." She unfolded her napkin into her lap. "Maybe."
"When I'm with a girl, she won't be sleeping with anyone else. Understand?"
"No. You don't want me for yourself, but you don't want me with anyone else?"
My stomach grumbled. "I guess. I mean . . . it sounds fucked up. What do you want?"
"I haven't been in a serious relationship since high school. And even then, it was . . ." She shrugged.
It wasn't really an answer, but she didn't say anything else, just twirled a saltshaker on the table.
Maybe she really was nervous. I put my hand over hers to stop her fidgeting, and I think it surprised us both a little. She flipped her palm up and flexed her fingers, lacing them with mine. Tiffany sat in front of me, but she wasn't quite the brazen girl I'd seen until now.
"Your hands are rough," she said. "Is that from work?"
"Pretty much. It's definitely not from baseball."
She giggled. "I guess not."
Corbin had left camp, but not before he'd beat my ass on the diamond. I'd had to sit through nine innings of baseball against him this evening. I'd played a little in high school, so I'd been picked to coach the opposing team. Corbin had been in and out of baseball camp all summer and obliterated us while Tiffany and Lake had watched from the grass. Smug satisfaction sat on Corbin's face as we shook hands after the game but disappeared completely as soon as Lake came around.
I released Tiffany's hand. "What's the deal with him?" I asked. "Corbin."
She folded her arms on the table. "He's a good guy, comes from a good family. Kind of a heartbreaker."
"So he's a little shit."
She laughed. "No. He doesn't do it on purpose. That's why I was worried about Lake. Like, if Corbin had a crush on me and thought he could get close to me through her or maybe that Lake was, like, a substitute for me, then I'd worry he might hurt her. But he wouldn't do it on purpose, you know? He's not like that. He's just a boy thinking with his . . . you know."
Brave, bold Tiffany couldn't come out and say what she wanted. It made me smile. Part of me wanted to hear it, just to tease her, but there was a bigger part of me that wanted to know about Corbin. "So do you think he's a problem?"
She cocked her head. "How?"
Did I want him to be a problem? Maybe a little. That way I'd have an excuse to keep him away. "I don't know. Will he try pressuring your sister into anything?"
"He's not like that." She rolled her eyes. "But maybe he should."
"What?"
"I'm kidding. Of course I don't want Lake to do anything before she's ready, and she won't. She's too uptight. I swear she's the youngest sixteen-year-old I know."
"Meaning?"
"When it comes to boys, she acts like she's twelve, but she isn't. When I was her age, I wasn't so naïve about these things. None of my friends were."
I shifted in my seat. It was just like on the horse earlier, Lake trying to convince me she was older while I wanted to keep her innocent. "Maybe you were like that and you just forgot what it's like to be that age."
She laughed. "My freshman year, my first boyfriend was quarterback of the varsity football team. A senior. You think he treated me like a kid? No. He taught me and my friends how to sneak out of the house. How to party. Before him, I'd had one beer in my life. By the end of the year, I took beer bongs as an appetizer."
I couldn't picture Tiffany at sixteen, which left me picturing Lake. They shared certain expressions that made me wonder if Tiffany had ever been as sweet and pure as her sister-or if Lake was bound to become like Tiffany. Lake was on the right track. USC would open up all sorts of doors for her. Nothing should get in her way, especially not someone like me who had no steady job, a murky past, and little more than what fit in a bedroom. Tiffany, though, she was going through something she probably couldn't recognize, not being motivated to find work or do anything of substance. She needed a hand out of it, and her dad was too busy with Lake. Even her mom hadn't seemed to want to help, more interested in getting me to date Tiffany.
There was a pretty good chance I could be good for Tiffany, and an even better one I'd be bad for Lake.
Bucky returned and set both plates down. "It took some bargaining, but I got your wine," he said to Tiffany. "It's in the back. Hope you like red."