Trailer Trash(44)

And eventually, she’d give up on calling, just like she’d given up on her family.



Nate awoke the next day with his eyes scratchy from the tears he’d shed into his pillow the night before. He felt like he’d lost his mom all over again. Even worse, his dreams had been full of Christine laughing at him, and Brian and Brad tapping out lines of cocaine on a mirror, telling him it was his turn, and Cody yelling at him, telling Nate he should be ashamed of himself for taking advantage of Christine. And through it all, Nate tried again and again to tell Cody that his mom already had a new boyfriend, but Cody never seemed to hear him.

He found his dad in the kitchen, making French toast. The phone was back on the wall. His dad looked at him strangely but didn’t ask.

After breakfast, his dad left to go grocery shopping, and Nate dug the Warren phone book out of the junk drawer in the kitchen. It was tiny. He’d laughed when he’d first seen it. The phone book in Austin had been two separate books—one for white pages, one for yellow—and both had been enormous. Here, the white and yellow together were only as thick as one of the single-subject spiral notebooks he used in school.

He looked for “Lawrence” first.

None.

He scratched his head, puzzled, then remembered what Cody had said. “People were always asking me why my last name was different from my mom’s. Used to piss me off.” Nate slumped, feeling defeated. How in the world could he get Cody’s phone number?

Logan.

He looked up Robertson. There were three listings. He called the first and asked for Logan.

“Wrong Robertson,” the man on the other end said. “You’re looking for my brother’s son.” He rattled off a phone number, and Nate hurried to grab a pencil and scribble it down. It helped that every single number in Warren had the same prefix.

He called the second number and asked for Logan.

“That’s me.”

He should have recognized the voice. “Hey. Um, it’s Nate Bradford.”

There was a stony silence, and then Logan said, “Okay. What the hell do you want?”

“I need to talk to Cody.”

“Yeah, you said that once before, but it doesn’t seem like it went all that well.”

“I know, but—”

“If you want to talk to Cody, why the hell are you calling me?”

Nate put his head in his hand. “Because I don’t know his number.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“He never gave it to me.”

He could practically hear Logan scowling at him. “Did you ever ask?”

Nate sighed. It annoyed him how Logan could make him feel so small, even over the phone. “Look, can you help me or not?”

“Why should I?”

Nate traced his finger over the wood grains of the tabletop, debating ways he might convince Logan. He had a feeling Logan wouldn’t forgive him until Cody did, but maybe he’d meet him halfway. “Can you at least tell me his mom’s last name?”

A second went by. Then another, and another. Finally, Logan said, “Prudhomme.” It sounded like he hated himself for letting it slip.

Nate was already flipping through the pages, running his finger down the lines of names, the black ink smearing beneath his fingertip. “Powell. Powers. Probst. Prudhomme! Cyndi? Is that it?” It had to be. “Thanks, Logan. Really.”

“You’re welcome.” Although his voice said otherwise. “And Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck with his head again, and I’ll skin you alive. Got it?”

Nate swallowed, wondering if he was making the biggest mistake of his life. “Got it.”

His heart pounded as he dialed the number. It rang once, twice, three times. Somebody picked it up midway through the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

Cody’s voice. Nate tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry.

“Hello?” Cody said again, sounding annoyed. It was oddly reminiscent of Nate’s call home the night before, and suddenly Nate’s hands were shaking, his throat too tight to speak. What the hell was he doing? What exactly did he think he could say to Cody now? I’m sorry. I screwed up. I’m confused. I want to see you. I’ve lost my mom. I’m lonely as hell, and you’re the only friend I have.

He couldn’t say any of it, though. His grip on the phone was tight, his heart in his throat, the pressure in his chest almost more than he could bear.

“I’m hanging up,” Cody said. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, man.”

Nate sat there, silent and confused, until the line went dead.





Logan was already at work when Cody arrived Saturday afternoon. The back of the kitchen was steamy as a sauna.