by Stacia Leigh
“Well, Nick’s not here, and I don’t want any trouble. Got it, son?” Dad pointed down to the long-necked trimmer. “Start with the back. I don’t want the fleabane going to seed, then get to mowing.”
“So…” J.J. stepped over and lifted the weed trimmer by the handle.
“So…what?” Dad lifted a bushy brow. “You got something else on your mind, son?”
“So…can I get the keys back?” J.J. held up his free hand to keep his dad from interrupting. “I’ll whack the weeds, mow like the wind, and I’ll even take out the trash. No complaints.”
“I suppose you think you’re showing me responsibility right now?” Dad cocked his hip and leaned against the wood counter top.
“Most definitely.”
“Well, you’re not. Being responsible means doing your job, being accountable, and keeping your word. If you want people to trust you, son, do what you said you’d do in the first place, not after someone asks you ten times.”
C’mon! Ten times? Try three. Usually, Dad was the easy one, but this time…geez. Get caught drinking a single beer, and it brought out all kinds of sour memories of Uncle Ray. But J.J. wasn’t like his dad’s brother, a selfish, drug-abusing tool. What could he say? What did his old man want to hear?
“I’ve already promised up the wazoo I won’t drink another beer until I’m forty. I’ve been a good little prisoner for an entire week, and I’m even willing to front load on my copious chore list to prove myself to you. What more do you want?”
“I told you what I want,” Dad said and brushed wood dust off his plaid work shirt. He wore his “Gary” belt, part of his personal dress code, which meant he was primed and ready to get down to it. Dad loved grit, grease, and motor oil along with talking heads on the radio.
“Okay, see, here’s the thing…Little Suzy Blue, you know, from next door? She wants to get her driver’s license, but she doesn’t know how to drive. Unbelievable, I know, but true…and I offered. So…I really need the keys back, not so much for me, but for, you know, Suzy.”
“You want the keys back to take Suzy around?” Dad scratched the silvery stubble on his jaw while he studied J.J. “What happened to Gemma?”
J.J. waved her name aside and scowled. “She’s history.”
“I see.” Dad folded thick arms across his chest. “You know, Monty and your sisters always gripe in my ear how we’re too lenient with you, and I hate to say it, but I’m starting to think they’re right. You have to prove to me you can be responsible. You got the talking down, for sure, but I want to see action.”
“I know, Dad. Exactly. I wanna show you how I can be responsible, not just with living around here, but with other people, too. I want to be neighborly and help a friend out. Doesn’t that show you something?”
“You’re wasting precious day light.” Dad’s open palm showcased the world of ever-growing grass outside the garage bay. But his interest in the conversation waned too soon, and his eyes drifted to the hoisted tractor engine off to the right.
“Dad.” J.J. cleared his throat. He hung his head and looked up with what he hoped were big, imploring eyes, ones conveying a sense of seriousness. “I get a chance to teach a beautiful redhead how to drive…a chance to be a hero.” J.J. lifted his chin and worked double-time to keep a straight face; he’d poured it on pretty thick. It sounded cheesy even to his own ears.
“What? A hero you say!” Dad tossed his head back and laughed so hard he had to hold his guts in with his hands. “Boy, you’re too cocky by half. What am I going to do with you?” He pulled J.J. into a rough side hug. “Too smart for your own good, that’s what Monty says. Do you think he’d fall for that line of crap? A hero.” He cuffed J.J.’s head playfully. “Tell you what. If that works for Monty, it works for me.”
“C’mon, Dad. Who cares what Monty thinks? He doesn’t even live here!” J.J. pulled away and raked a hand through his hair. “He’s not my boss. What does he have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. Your brother seems to think you get away with murder.” Dad chuckled and turned to his dented tool box. He flipped the lid open. “Now he’s got a kid and thinks he’s got parenting all figured out. Ha! I love it. Now he can parent you.” He grinned over his shoulder, delight painted his whiskered face. “Let me know how it turns out.”
Right, Dad, a real chuckle-fest.
His dad whistled and rummaged through an old metal toolbox as J.J. stared holes into his broad back. Hello, Dad? Apparently, he thought this conversation was over. But it was not. Did J.J. have the keys in his hand? Not yet.
“What part of neighborly didn’t you get, Dad? I’m trying to help Suzy out. Look at her home life. Nick dumped her on Marsha…I mean, I know he had to, but she’s a little strange. What’s the deal with her? She could be cooking up meth in her trailer for all we know.”
“Now, now, son. It’s nothing like what you’re thinking.” Dad clanked the toolbox closed and pushed it away.
“I thought it would be nice to help Suzy get her driver’s license. Show her someone cares, you know? Because I really think something’s not right over there.”
“Nick’s kept me informed about the situation.” Dad faced J.J. with a somber look. “So I appreciate your looking out for Suzy because friends are important. But let’s not…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “…let’s not discount Marsha. She’s a good person, too. Speaking of which, does she know about this idea of Suzy and driving?”
J.J. would bet a microbrew to doughnuts Marsha didn’t know much of what Suzy did, so telling the truth came easy.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and tacked on a “probably” for good measure.
“Just be careful and stay off the busy roads. You can always drive around Brock Burrow Lake to get some practice driving in until she gets her permit. Do you want me to go along?”
“You serious?” This time it was J.J.’s turn to cut loose. He laughed at the rafters. “What are you, my chaperone?”
“You’re not on a date, are you? You’re teaching her to drive. Hands to self and no distractions while on the road, or do we need to have a sit-down?”
“A sit-down? No! God, no.” J.J. grinned like a fool; his dad loved him. Mr. Easy always came through. J.J. was getting his keys back so he could teach Blue to drive. Then, he’d show Gemma what a big mistake she’d made, choosing that gonad, Ron, over him.
“You rock, Dad. Thanks.”
“Better get to it before I change my mind.”
Yeah, yeah. J.J. clutched the weed whacker and marched out of the shop door and into the daylight. First things first—weed whack the universe. Then, when all was said and done, he’d pull out a bucket of suds and tenderly wash his first love…his truck.
If Gemma thought he’d be sitting on the sidelines, sniveling into a box of tissues while waiting for her to drop him a line, she’d be wrong. Not this guy.
He had big plans.
Chapter 8: The Drive
A stiff wave crept up J.J.’s back after all the whacking and mowing and fender scrubbing, but there was no sense whining about it, so he took a hot shower, manned up with a couple neck stretches, ears to shoulders, side-to-side, before venturing to Suzy’s. Her blinds were open, but nobody was home since she didn’t answer when he rapped on her window. Otherwise, he hoped she was farther in the house, watching TV or something, and not avoiding him. Not after the crap-load of yard work he’d done to get his keys back.
J.J. traipsed around the end of the trailer house through the fresh-cut grass—sheared to perfection—to her back door. He knocked and waited.
He paced and waited.
Someone was in there, shuffling stuff around on the other side. But the door stayed closed, and everything went silent. So weird. Didn’t anyone hear him out here? J.J. knocked again.
The door opened a foot, and Marsha with her Suzy-blue eyes peered around it.
“Hi, J.J.” She smiled warmly, but got directly to the point. “What do you need?”
“Hey, Marsha, I’m looking for Suzy. Is she around?” He shoved his hands in his front pockets when Marsha made no move to open the door wider or to invite him inside or the all-time favorite—to ask him how school was going. No small talk for her. In all the sixteen years J.J. lived at Badger Court, he’d never been inside Marsha’s trailer, let alone seen the entryway.
“Not at the moment, and unfortunately, I’m a little busy…”
Yeah, probably busy cooking up meth, although she didn’t look like a meth-head. He liked Marsha. He really did, but why the freak vibe? On the outside, she was friendly enough, a regular nine-to-fiver with some office gig at the courthouse. She wore nice clothes and smiled a lot. But after work, she turned into a mole and closed herself up in the house. Where were her friends? Her family? No one ever visited except her ex-husband, Nick. Then, there was the front door. It was right next to her driveway, but instead of using it, she walked clear around to the back of the house. Something just wasn’t right.
“…and I’ve got water on to boil. Why don’t you call Suzette?”
“I don’t have her number. Could you give it to me?”
“You know what? You should get that from her directly. She has a job now, working at the Butterhorn. She’s doing some training today and should be back in about an hour or so. I’ll let her know you stopped by.” She turned her lips up into an apologetic smile and eased the door closed while muttering a goodbye.
J.J. stood with his hands still rammed in his pockets. One hand picked at pocket lint; the other clutched his keys. He stared at the closed door where Marsha’s face had been a second ago. She could be the strangest woman in the trailer park, no doubt about it, right up there with The Mouth’s grandma in #22. He shook his head and jangled the—he had keys for crying out loud. Why hang around this dump? J.J. cleared the back steps in a single leap and strode to his truck.
Man, it was so clean it sparkled.
He drove down Main Street to the opposite end of town and parallel parked in front of The Butterhorn Bakery. Bells jingled above the door as he strolled inside, and the smell of fresh baked cinnamon rolls and dark roasted coffee lured him to the front where Suzy leaned on the counter. Her uniform was a snug, black t-shirt with white lettering on the front: Butter Me Up. The words rested on the glass as she pointed to something sweet in the cabinet and twirled the end of her copper ponytail. She smiled up at—
No, no, no.
J.J. squinted his eyes at Charlie, the hairy rock star with the alleged tattoo.
What was going on here? He’d made a deal with Suzy last night and only a couple doors down at Grubby’s. Yes, it was all an act, but they were supposed to be steady eddy, yet here she was, flirting with the wrong guy, good ol’ Up Chuck. There were rules in this game, and clearly, he was the only one who understood them. Watching her lips turn up into a smile for somebody else? No, no, and more no. He had enough of that with Gemma poking around Ron. The least J.J.’s pretend girlfriend could do was give him the sweet look and be the kind of girlfriend he wanted, with eyes only for him.
He trudged to them and stood next to the cabinet. “Hey, Charlie.” J.J. slapped him on the back, a smidge harder than necessary and faced Suzy. “Hi, buttercup.” He tried to infuse a little sugar, but what he really wanted to do was wring her neck.
“Buttercup?” Suzy straightened with a frown. “What are you doing here?”
“Suzy, you talked me into it.” Charlie interrupted like an ignor-anus as Suzy would say. “I’ll take two pecan sandies with my drip, and can you believe?” Charlie said in his deep baritone. He leaned on an elbow, and a dopey grin smeared across his face. “Prom’s coming up.”
“She knows. We’ve got plans,” J.J. drawled. “You got a dress picked out yet, babe? You can model it for me later.” He winked and his hand slinked across the glass cabinet to touch her fingertips.
She left her hand there for a brief moment, then eased it back and let it fall behind the counter, but not before raising her eyebrows while looking sideways at Charlie.
“Oh right. Got it.” Charlie pushed up his glasses and eased out of his slouch. “Uh…” He fumbled for his wallet before pulling it out of his back pocket. “Yeah…what do I owe you?”
Suzy bagged a couple cookies, handed them over the counter, and filled a mug with hot brew. She took the bills from his hand and made change, which Charlie tossed into the tip jar.
“Thanks, Charlie,” Suzy said softly and raised her hand in a slow wave. He nodded gently and gave her a rueful smile, then turned and walked across the room, grabbing a table for one by the window.
“Oh, geez, you’re breaking my heart here. Did you forget we have a deal? You’re my girlfriend, remember?” J.J. muttered. “I’m going to look like an idiot if you’re flirting with every guy who walks in. We’re supposed to be fused, man.”
“You said for Gemma’s eyes only. Besides, I didn’t know we’d started our agreement yet. What are you even doing here? I’m trying to work, and you’re in my face, acting all jealous.”
“Ha! What a laugh. I’m here to offer you driving lessons because I’m good for my word.” She twisted up her lips, looking kind of guilt ridden. Good. J.J. knocked on the counter. “When are you off?”
“I’m on for another half hour.” Suzy wiped the counter and snuck a look at Charlie, then back at J.J. He shook his head and frowned.
“You’re supposed to like me, or have your forgotten? Eyes on me, babe.”
Suzy rolled her stunning-blues up to the pendulum lights hanging above the counter.
“You’re going to make my life hell, aren’t you?” she said. “You’re taking this thing too far already. Gemma isn’t even around to witness your doting.”
Their arrangement could hit the dirt before it even got started. For some reason, it left him exposed, like his insides were hanging out, and what was on display wasn’t “up to snuff” as his dad would say. J.J. straightened and rubbed at the stiffness in his neck. Girls generally liked him, probably because he had three older sisters and one younger. He knew a little something about the magic of chocolate and trending nail colors all the way down to Barbie doll clothes and the difference between fuchsia and mauve. So why was Blue giving him the business? What was he doing wrong?
“Are we still doing this?” He flicked his finger back and forth between them. “The deal…driving lessons?”
She flung the dish rag into the sink and turned back to him with wary eyes, giving him a full on complex. “I guess so,” she finally said.
“Geez.” He dropped his chin and blew out a relieved breath. He didn’t want to examine too closely why it was important for Suzy to stay in the game because right now, he needed to stay focused on his goal: Gemma and retaliation. “Good, I’m glad. So…is it out of line to ask you to put a cream puff and a glass of milk on your tab, you know, for your man? After you’re off work, we can drive around the lake.”
“It’s not a stick, is it?”
“Does anyone drive a stick anymore? Don’t worry about it.” He tapped the glass top. “Cream puff…the big one, right there.”
She plated the cream puff, poured an ice cold glass of two percent, and slid both across the counter. Damn, that looked good. He rubbed his hands and nearly sighed at the sight.
“I could kiss you right now,” he said and winked, appreciating her pink blush before he strode off to sit with Charlie. What better way to kill time than to find out what allure the rock star had? He did have a deep voice, couldn’t argue that. Chest hair was possible since he drank coffee. But a tatt? No way.
“Hey, man,” J.J. set his plate down, and Charlie looked up in surprise. “Did you know there’s a rumor going around about you? Something about a rook and a tattoo…”
After thirty minutes of pumping him for answers and watching Suzy foam milk, J.J. stood and stretched. “See ya, Chuck. It was nice hanging out, but now I gotta take my girl for a spin. She wants to learn to drive.”
“You and Suzy.�
�� Charlie shook his head, swinging a meaningful look toward the front counter where Suzy tugged off her apron. “I’m sorry about earlier. The last thing I heard from the rumor mill was you with Gemma. What happened?”
“So ‘last week,’” J.J. murmured and leaned forward. “You gotta get current. If you want the latest, tune in to The Mouth—”
“Ready?” Suzy walked up with her ponytail bobbing and her jacket over her arm.
J.J. stood and loomed beside her. Man, what a half-pint; she was short. He dropped his arm across her slight shoulders and tugged her in close before turning to Charlie. Show time.
“You know, when I found out buttercup here had the hots for me, I thought, no way. The Professor wants me? She begged me to give us a chance, and I’m sure glad—oof!”
Suzy rammed her elbow into J.J.’s stomach, and he dropped his arm, staggering back.
“Alright, feisty.” J.J. coughed. “Time to go.” He waved at Charlie and herded Suzy out the door.
“You better watch it,” Suzy said tightly. “It might seem like fun and games to you to embarrass me throughout this deal, but I can find Gemma and return the favor. Then, we’ll see how you like it.” Suzy scowled and stomped down the sidewalk toward his silver truck.
“So…I got a little carried away. Sorry, it won’t happen again.” J.J. stepped ahead of her and leaned against his freshly washed grill. He patted the hood. “It’s kind of fun pretending, though. I can be free to say or do whatever I want and not worry I’m hurting your feelings or how you’ll break up with me. I can be myself. C’mon, lighten up. You try it. Anything goes.”
“Anything, huh?” Suzy looked up with annoyance. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt your feelings just because I can, and I definitely don’t want to be your temporary doormat, where you think it’s okay to treat me like—”
“Hold it.” He held up his hands. “Not what I meant at all. I’m saying I don’t have to tap dance around to make you like me, you know? I can be myself without trying to do what’s expected. Like did I call when I was supposed to, did I say the right thing? Did I spend too much time with my friends or look at the wrong person? I dunno, I guess I don’t have to impress you,” he batted his eyelashes and joked, “because you’re stuck with me.”