Dealing with Blue

by Stacia Leigh

  After the Blue Room Blow Out last Monday with Marsha, J.J.’d packed his stuff and had gotten tight and cozy with Monty and his family, which consisted of his I’m-just-a-little-bit pregnant sister-in-law and his nephew who J.J. officially renamed Squirm.

  Good times.

  Normally, the glee on Monty’s face when J.J. asked if he could move in would have sent J.J. running back home, but that wasn’t an option, not with Suzy sleeping in his bed. Sure, it had a frilly purple quilt on it now, but technically it was still his and he liked that, yes he did.

  “Touchy,” Monty muttered as the door opened.

  Marsha stood there like a ray of sunshine, dressed in butter yellow and a beaming smile.

  “Why are you knocking on your own door, J.J.?” Marsha cast her eyes over J.J.’s spiky haircut and black tuxedo. She nodded with approval and stepped aside.

  “Uh…why’re you answering it?” J.J. asked. He was at his parent’s house, right?

  Monty slugged him in the arm—“Hi, Marsha.”—and drove J.J. inside. “I’m done standing out here. Hi, Mom. I’ve got your youngest son here, all trussed up in a monkey suit. He’s still alive, believe it or not. I haven’t killed him yet.” He pounded on J.J.’s back with his beefy hand.

  Jerkwad. Who was going to kill whom, exactly?

  When Suzy stepped into his line of vision, all thoughts of killing left the building. His jaw unhinged, and he stared in awe. Her hair was swept up in the usual way, showing her slender neck, but instead of a contained bun with every strand in place, a mass of curls topped her head, ready to spill at any moment. Her baby blues sparkled like gems against a hint of smoky makeup. He scanned her dress, shiny purple fabric cinched onto her body like plastic wrap, and almost bit his tongue, trying to close his mouth.

  There was cleavage.

  Question: where was he supposed to pin this dang flower? Dangerous territory. He gulped and squeezed the carton until the lid popped open.

  “You look…” J.J. dragged his eyes back up to lock on hers. Man, he was gone. He stepped closer and took her hand, not caring how Marsha, Dad, Mom, Little Oops, and Monty were watching them like bad reality TV. “You are stunning,” he murmured. Truth.

  “You, too. You sure clean up nice, Mr. Cool. I like your hair, but I miss your curls, too.” Suzy’s shiny lips turned up.

  There was lip gloss.

  “Oh, no. You’re wearing Mocha Cocoa, aren’t you?” J.J. breathed in and fluttered his eyelashes like he might hit the floor…boom. “I’m done.”

  “What’d I miss?” Monty looked around with his thick eyebrows stuck up on his head. “Mocha what?”

  “Just never mind, man.” J.J. glanced up and felt the weight of ten eyeballs. “I’m on a date here. Do you mind?”

  “Alright then.” Monty jingled his keys. “Snap some pics and jump in the truck. I’ll give you guys a ride.”

  “What?” Steam filled J.J.’s white shirt again. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I move in with you and in five-short days I’ve mowed your grass, babysat Squirm, done the dishes a hundred times, and painted the ceiling in the nursery. And what do I get out of this? No truck, no computer, and now…no hair. If you think I’d let you drive us, you’d be wrong. We’d rather walk. Right, buttercup?”

  “I can’t walk.” Suzy lifted a black strappy foot and frowned. “I’m in heels.”

  “Whoa! Li’l bro, you came to me, remember? And a hundred times? Try twice. Besides, you wanted to move in, and I’m glad to have you and all, but you’ve got to earn your keep, and you agreed.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” J.J. closed his eyes. How was he going to live with The Boss for the next couple months? He was stuck with him until Marsha and her counselor made some headway. The current plan was anywhere from three to six months. He would have to spend as little time as possible at Monty’s. Aside from spending the night, he’d hang out at home, here with Suzy.

  He opened his eyes, and his girlfriend stood in front of him, a vision decked out in the deepest purple, all wrapped up tight and showing off a little leg. He looked at her bare shoulders, and his heart galloped. Where were the straps?

  There were no straps.

  “Monty…” Dad warned. “Come on now. Give J.J. a break. He doesn’t need you giving him a hard time. Look at him. He’s stressed out.”

  “Eh, he’s been uptight.” Monty shrugged. “I was just having a some fun. We’re good, right li’l bro?”

  “Dad, may I borrow the truck keys?” J.J. opted for a more formal approach since he was decked out in black tie. It sort of made him feel obligated to rise to the occasion. He quirked his brow at Suzy. See? He could be a stand up guy.

  Dad grinned and unhooked the truck keys from the peg on the wall and tossed them over.

  J.J. pinched them out of the air with his good hand, and a lightness of being percolated through his core. Ahh! His truck, his freedom, and his girl. Alright, people, let’s speed things along here. It was time to herd Suzy out the door and get on with prom.

  “We need to take pictures.” Marsha lifted her phone and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

  “Wait, the corsage, the boutonnière.” Mom slapped a hand over the v-neck of her green scrubs and laughed. “Oopsie, do you have it?”

  “I think you look prettier than Rapunzel,” Little Oops said and handed a clear carton to Suzy.

  “Thanks, Oopsie.” Suzy smiled and lifted out a delicate white rose surrounded by loops of blue ribbon. She held the pin in her mouth while she prepped his lapel, then fastened the flower to his tux jacket. “The blue matches the tape on your splint.” Suzy winked.

  Another dribble of sweat ran down J.J.’s back. God, it was hot in here. He held the pink rose in one hand and the pin in the other, poised above Suzy’s wrapped up chest. There was skin and cleavage and no straps and—where was he supposed to put his hands?

  “Could someone wipe my forehead?” J.J. joked over his shoulder and shrugged helplessly at Suzy. “I can’t do this.”

  “Here.” Marsha stepped forward and slipped her fingers beneath the fabric and guided the pin easily.

  J.J. let out a long breath; the deed was done. But seriously, the dress was strapless for crying out loud. It was a trap because if he’d put his hands there, Marsha might have slapped him, and if she didn’t—J.J. slid a glance to his mom, who stood with tears in her eyes and clasped hands over her heart—she definitely would have.

  “You look beautiful, honey. Thank you for…it means to me…a lot…that you. Do you know what I mean?” Marsha laughed and waved her hand. “I can’t talk. I’m just glad you invited me.”

  “Things get messier before they get better, right? That’s what you said. But I’m here and you’re here and together…we’re messy,” Suzy said and smiled at Marsha. “But I know we’re going to get through it.”

  “I know…I know,” Marsha said, her head bobbing like a weight on a spring.

  “And thank you for Zettesue,” Suzy said softly. “She turned out super cute, Mom. I’m glad you were able to give her to me.”

  “Oh, I want one, too!” Little Oops clasped her hands over her pink shirt and gushed. “But instead of a bunny, I want a kitten with a pink dress and pink eyes, and I’ll name her Oopsie Loo. Isn’t that cute?”

  Marsha looked slightly rattled by the request as Mom engulfed Oopsie in her arms and pulled her back into an I-love-you-but-zip-it hug. J.J. knew Marsha had a hard time letting things go, so giving Suzy a doll she’d made was a pretty big deal.

  Suzy held out her palm, and Marsha grabbed it with a trembling hand. Her blue eyes were lit up with unshed tears, and J.J. could tell Marsha was struggling to hold back a massive flood.

  J.J. looked away. God, he was getting choked up here.

  “Now, let me get a picture of you two.” Marsha cleared her throat and tapped on her phone screen. “I’ll send it to your dad. He’ll want to see his daughter looking so beautiful and happy. Smile!”

  * * *

  “
Smile, smile, smile!” everyone said, holding up their camera phones, and Suzy smiled. In fact, she couldn’t un-smile. She sat on cloud nine attached elbow to elbow with her Mr. Cool. God, she was floating.

  Then, everyone said, “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye! Have fun, drive safe, be good!” Suzy laughed, and like she was a helium balloon, J.J. tugged her out the front door. He kept tugging until he stopped at the chrome grill of his truck. He turned and faced her. Where was his smile? Why was he rubbing the back of his neck and pulling at his collar? Where was her Mr. Ten Below?

  “So when’s your curfew?” J.J. joked, stirring his short hair with the tips of his fingers.

  Curfew? Suzy shrugged. Who knew? She’d been living with the Radbornes for less than a week, so things were still sort of weird, new. She did miss the freedom of climbing in and out of her window whenever she pleased, but she was close to her mom without the stress. She could breathe and work on those second chances her mom needed so badly. And being honest, Suzy wanted—No, slash that. She needed another chance, too.

  She dug her glasses out of her leather handbag and slid them onto her nose, hoping she’d get to drive.

  “Hey, it’s The Professor, I’ve missed you.”

  “Funny. Is anything wrong?” Suzy asked, watching the toe of his black dress shoe chase a rock in the dirt. It was pretty obvious something was on his mind. Oh, God. It better not be about Gemma. He fidgeted with his hair while his eyebrows pinched together into a mask of discomfort…or was it regret? Her stomach twisted uneasily, and her shoulders fell limp.

  Why was this happening? Why?

  “There’s something I’ve been needing to tell you.” J.J. swallowed hard. “It’s uh…it’s been on my mind. But everything happened so fast, and I want…”

  Suzy banded her arms over her front and braced for something unpleasant. As if pre-prom was the time or the place—

  “I want to be honest with you…but not scare you off, you know? I live in a family where we say what needs to be said, and I haven’t been doing that, and with you, I want to. The day you called me an ignor-anus, I almost fell out of my chair…not because it was funnier than hell but because I thought I knew you, and I didn’t.” He lifted his brows as if he’d asked her a question, but when she only stood there, he shook his head. “What I mean is…I want to know you because you surprise me, and I sort of love you and—there it is. I said it. Honesty, right?”

  She blinked at him, fully dazed. He just said the l-word.

  “Hey, I’m not expecting anything.” He gently squeezed her hand and pleaded. “I don’t want things to be weird between us.” His words gushed over her, and the long wisp of tense air she’d been holding blew out in a steady stream.

  “No, it’s just…” She stared. He’d put his heart out there without even knowing if she’d accept it, cherish it, or pound it into sand. Things between them did happen fast, but it wasn’t weird; it was right. “I’m not really sure what love feels like, but something good is happening…right here.” Suzy copied J.J.’s earlier gesture and touched her fingertips above her heart, setting off a wave of tingles. Suddenly, the world seemed huge and vast around them, but she felt connected and safe; she had J.J.

  “I like the sound of that,” he said, “and I don’t even care if there are five faces pressed up against the window right now…all watching us.”

  His arms went around her waist, and he pressed his mouth to hers. She opened, and his tongue skated past her lips, soft and sure, turning her into a puddle of simple syrup. Her whole body melted, except for her one hand that slithered up his back between his shirt and jacket. He tasted like cool mint and smelled like the forest up at Big Hack on a warm day. Just as she was sinking into bliss, he pulled away.

  “I can’t wait to get you on the dance floor,” he murmured and stooped to pick up the black clutch she had apparently dropped. She touched her hands to her cheeks—that was some kiss—as J.J. brushed the grit off her bag and held it out to her.

  “Why don’t you let me drive?” she asked and tried on a coy smile. “I’ll take the long way.”

  “Have I told you lately how you drive me crazy?” J.J. flattened his hand to his chest. “But sadly, no deal. This tux is rented, your flower’s pinned on your dress, and I cut my hair for this thing, so…” J.J. ambled to the passenger-side and held open the door. “Hop in the truck, flash. We’re going on a hot date.”

  Flash! Ugh. She hitched up onto the seat and pulled the buckle over her dress, careful of her pink corsage. He’d better watch it. If he called her flash out on the dance floor in front of everybody, he’d learn these strappy shoes might look sexy, but they could be used as a weapon, too.

  He climbed into the driver’s side with a grin, and her finger was ready, jabbing the air in his direction. “Don’t call me flash. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it.” He chuckled and threw the truck in reverse. “Man, I’m having fun, and prom hasn’t even started yet.”

  J.J. hit the gas, and the acceleration planted Suzy back against the seat. As the silver truck sped out of Badger Court, Suzy laughed and held a hand over her flapping heart. It had sprouted wings like a junco. Here she was flying down the road toward prom with her boyfriend—James Jefferson, a.k.a. Mr. Cool. Mr. My League and she’d never been so free in her life. She was right where she needed to be.

  It was exhilarating.

  Later: A Slow Burn

  Mrs. Norton clasped her hands behind her silk blouse and pursed her lips. If Mister J.J. Radborne moved that hand down another inch, she’d be forced to intervene. Now, she didn’t want to have to do that, but this was a school function after all, and he had sweet, little Suzy all wrapped up on the dance floor like—

  Where was the help? Mrs. Norton glanced through the white balloons and crepe streamers at the two teachers on guard at the refreshment table. Those two were not on guard as it turned out, but tossing back punch and guffawing like geese.

  She thumbed the glass beads at her neck and turned back to the swaying couple. Someone really should break those two up. They were well past the tinder and kindling stage, and it was starting to look like a slow burn out there. She considered herself a romantic and didn’t abide interrupting true love. But as a mother, a responsible teacher, and a dance chaperon, she did have a moral obligation to make sure things stayed contained. She didn’t need a wildfire on her hands.

  She cursed under her breath and trudged along the perimeter next to the wallflowers, scanning for a way to break into the pulsing crowd. Charlie Russo, her best student, slouched next to a row of wide-eyed girls in pretty dresses. His gaze was on Suzy, but according to their personality tests, those two wouldn’t have been a good match. Opposites attracted. Didn’t he know that from class? Mrs. Norton shook her head. Surely, she’d mentioned it.

  She stepped into the sea of elbows, knee caps, hips, and hair and wove through the fray, holding her arms out to keep the gangly feet off her new Pompadour heels. She lost her target in the crowd and stopped, only to be jostled from behind. It was Ron, rocking back and forth like a stiff plank while clutching at Gemma’s sequined waist. The poor dear had misery painted all over her face—eyes numbly glued on a pair of slow dancers.

  Aha! J.J. and Suzy, the igniting duo.

  She eased past Ron and clicked her heels to an abrupt stop beside Mr. Radborne. Whoever thought slow music at a prom was a good idea? Teen verve…anyone hear of it? She took in his freshly shorn hairdo before formally tapping his shoulder.

  “Why don’t you two cool down and go get a drink?” Mrs. Norton’s lips turned up into a smile at their flushed faces. Ah, true love. It was a beautiful thing. Suzy looked absolutely radiant, and J.J. was a handsome devil.

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Norton.” J.J. said and had the good sense to look sheepish. What a fine young man.

  She meandered back to her post as far from the speakers as possible. With that fire doused, she could relax. She sighed and pushed up her glasses, s
weeping the room for suspicious body language like shifty looks, covert groping, and mischievous giggling—aside from the teachers, of course.

  But then a zing of adrenaline amped up her heartbeat, and the hairs on the back of her neck stiffened. Her chaperoning sensibilities tingled on red alert.

  Will, dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel, a regular hayseed at a formal, tumbled in through the exit door. His dark eyes roamed without focus, and he drooped against the concrete wall. He leaned to the right…and leaned to the right…then leaned again and fell on the floor. He was drunk, that imbecile.

  She narrowed her eyes and pushed her shoulders back, sending a wave of creaks up her spine. Without a doubt, she had her work cut out for her. First, get Will out of here. Second, call her little brother, the big, bad biker. She didn’t care that he used to be the grizzled president of the Hides of Hell Motorcycle Club. He needed to join the real world and help his son do the same.

  She would not sit on idle hands while her nephew ruined his life for one more summer.

  Because life, Will Sullivan, goes on.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  This is the part where I thank all the people who helped me sculpt this book into a reality. If only that were possible! My memory is the size of a gnat, and I would hate to forget a single name that belonged here. But rest assured, I do value the critiques, the encouragement, the experiences, and the words of writing wisdom.

  So, in the spirit of keeping things loose and simple, I’d like to give a shout out to the people on my short list:

  Kelly Vincent

  Bev Katz Rosenbaum

  Chase Nottingham

  Roberta Gebhardt

  LaZetta Krause

  Thank you so much!

  Read on for a preview of Will’s story…