The Complete Arrogant Series(14)

She snaps her gaze toward me and then returns to the road. I know what people see when they look at me. My outside and insides contrast. I throw people for a loop. I’m smart, and I’m a smartass. It works for me.

“Oh,” she says. She squints into the afternoon sun, then snaps the visor down and grips the steering wheel.

“You okay? You seem kind of…”

I don’t know what she seems like. I’ve known her for all of a couple of days. All I know is she walks around with a holier-than-though attitude, and when she’s not busy prancing around as Mark Miller’s golden child, she’s huffing and sighing and keeping her opinions to herself like she’s forbidden to speak them.

“It’s not good to keep things in.” I stretch my arm across her small car, hooking it behind the driver’s seat.

“I’m not keeping anything in. I’m dealing with everything in my own way. Thank you for your concern.”

It sounds like a canned response, and I don’t buy it. “You’re an angry girl.”

More like sexually frustrated.

“How would you know?” She spits her words with a wrinkled nose.

“Told you earlier. I’m smarter than everybody else.”

“Hate to break it to you, Jensen, but you’re not.”

“Ouch.” I clap my hand across my chest as if she’s just aimed and shot at me. “I doubt you’ll be calling me stupid when I’m tutoring you for your calculus final.”

“How do you know I’m taking calc?”

“I know everything about everything, kid. Tried to warn you. I’m all-knowing and all-powerful. Omnipotent. O-m-n-i-p—”

She jabs an elbow into my side and retrieves it just as quickly, which tells me she’s not a girl used to being physical with anybody. This girl has a shit ton of pent up anger and frustration. If she needs to take it out on me, I’ll gladly be her human punching bag. I don’t mind when it’s going toward a good cause.

“Saw you walk into your class on my way to Mixed Media. Our classrooms are down the hall from each other. Relax.” I rub the dull ache in my rib cage until it subsides. She’s got to do better than that next time. That was weak.

Waverly pulls up to a mechanic’s shop with gray cinderblock walls and five bays. A yellow sign with black and red lettering says, “A1 Auto Repair.” She slams on her brakes, which I’m guessing is her way of telling me to get the fuck out. God, I’d kill to hear her say “fuck” or “damn.” Or even “hell.”

For a second, I debate asking if she’ll come pick me up in a couple hours, but I don’t dare. If looks could kill…

“Thanks for the ride.” She peels out of the parking lot before I have a chance to shut the door behind me. “All right, then.”

I’m greeted by jingle bells on the door and a cashier with a nametag reading “Liberty” across her pinstriped button-down. It’s a mechanic’s shirt, but she has it open just enough to offer the world a shameless sneak-peak at her cleavage. Her hair is long, dark, and wild, and she has the same glass-blue eyes as Waverly.

“Can I help you?” She snaps her gum between cherry-red lips. She’s so busy working her Bubble Yum six ways from Sunday she doesn’t bother to smile.

“I’m Jensen. Mark Miller sent me here for a job.”

“Ah, yes. Uncle Mark,” she says, picking up the phone and pressing three buttons. The cuffs of her shirt are hiked up just enough to show she’s got a whole sleeve of tattoos going on. Judging by her smooth baby face, she’s barely old enough to drink. “Dad, that guy that Uncle Mark sent is here.” She hangs up. “You can have a seat. He’ll be out.”

I locate a dingy aluminum chair and grab a stale issue of Car and Driver, flipping to the middle and hoping to find a half-interesting article somewhere.

“So, you’re one of the Millers now.” Liberty’s mouth turns into a knowing half-smile.

“Not a Miller.” I clear my throat and flip the page. It’s not that I’m proud to be a Mackey, it’s just there’s no way in hell I’ll ever be a fucking Miller.

“Yeah, but you’re Uncle Mark’s third wife’s son from another marriage. Right? Did I get that right?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s okay. I know about their, uh, lifestyle,” she laughs. “My mom and Waverly’s dad are brother and sister. We’re not poly, or anything, but we know about them. Family’s family, right?”

I flip another page and mutter, “Forever and always.”