Trailer Trash(51)

He knew Logan would make a big deal out of it, so he shrugged. “Maybe I’m just going for a smoke.”

Logan didn’t look convinced, but he obviously had something else on his mind. “Yeah right. Hey, listen. I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Can you cover for me at the Tomahawk next Saturday?”

“After Thanksgiving, you mean?”

“Right. You don’t have plans, do you?”

Of course he didn’t, and Logan knew it. It was a day they’d been booked for overlapping shifts, Cody for only a few hours in the first half of the day, and Logan arriving later. “Why? What’s up?”

“Shelley wants me to take her to Casper on Friday so she can go shopping with our cousins on Saturday. She’s gonna spend the weekend there. I could come back that night and work my shift, but then I’d have to drive to Casper again on Sunday to pick her up. It’d be easier if we both just stayed the weekend and came home Sunday evening. I know you’ve worked almost every Friday night during football season, and you shouldn’t have to work all day Saturday too—”

“It’s cool.” After all, he had nothing better to do with his weekends, and a few extra hours on his paycheck would be nice. It’d mean working a ten hour shift, but so what? “I’ll cover for you. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

Cody grinned. “Well, I’ll have to cancel that hot date I had with Jamie Simpson, but for you, I’ll do it.”

Logan laughed and threw his arm around Cody’s shoulders, turning him toward the outside door just as Jimmy Riordan and Larry Lucero came through it. “You’re the best.” He tugged Cody to the side to let Jimmy and Larry by, nearly pulling him off his feet as he dragged him closer, his face bumping the top of Cody’s head as Cody fought for his balance. If he didn’t make it as a quarterback in college, Cody figured Logan had a shot as a defensive lineman. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

They strolled toward the door, Logan’s arm still draped comfortably over Cody’s shoulders.

“You’re not just going out for a smoke. You’re bailing on the dance, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“At least let me give you a ride home.”

Even in his new coat, a ride in Logan’s Camaro would sure beat walking. “I’m still not putting out on the first date.”

“How do you feel about first base?”

“That’s the second date.”

Logan laughed again. “I was planning on breaking up with you before then anyway.”



Nate arrived at the dance with nearly a dozen Mormons, from all four grades. The overhead lights in the gym were out. A mirrored ball hung over the center of the floor. Christmas light had been strung all over the place, and streamers were abundant, but it still looked and smelled like the same gym they all had PE in.

Several couples were already on the dance floor, along with a small group of girls, dancing in a circle. He followed the Mormons to the right, circling away from the Grove clique, but Nate’s eyes met Brian’s for a moment, and then Brian leaned toward Brad and Jennifer, whispering something that made them both look Nate’s way.

Nate’s stomach knotted, some small seed of discomfort wiggling there, almost like a warning, and Nate tried to tell himself it was nothing. So the Grove kids were talking about him. Why should he care? He was the one who’d abandoned them, not the other way around. Maybe he didn’t quite fit in with the Mormons, but at least he didn’t have to worry about them peer-pressuring him into a bottle of Blue Maui, or pushing him toward a few lines of cocaine.

Eventually, the group he was with moved onto the dance floor, Stacy pulling Nate along with them. They danced a few fast dances, Nate feeling awkward and ridiculous, but confident at least that he looked less foolish than Jimmy Riordan, who seemed to be having convulsions on the far side of the room.

And then, the thing Nate had been dreading happened: the slow dance.

Some of the Mormons left the floor. Some of them paired up. A few of them stayed put, glancing awkwardly at each other. His eyes met Stacy’s. He cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say.

“Do you want to—”

“Sure!” She stepped closer, putting her arms around his neck.

Nate had intended to say, Do you want to get some punch? He hadn’t intended to ask her to dance, but there wasn’t a graceful way out now.

He put his hands on her waist. She was shorter than him, a bit overweight, but pretty enough, he supposed. They moved their feet a half inch at a time, slowly turning in circles, not speaking, their eyes averted. Nate had no idea what to do with his hands. Were they too close to her breasts? He wasn’t sure, but if he lowered them, they were too low on her hips. His elbows seemed to be sticking out way too far. He glanced at the couples around them and noticed that most of the guys had their hands all the way around their partner’s waists, but then he’d have his hands practically on her ass. Not only that, it’d mean drawing her a lot closer to him than she was now.