Boys and Burlesque

by Ripley Proserpina

  I shuffled my feet against the stones. I didn’t dare jog because while it’d been on Gram’s list to fill in the potholes, she hadn’t gotten to it. Up ahead, I could make out headlights, and the telltale cab lights on the roof of Josh’s truck.

  Seeing him ahead gave me an instant rush of relief so potent my breath whooshed out of me. I was blinded for a quick second before he turned off the lights. My vision hadn’t cleared, but the door slammed, and then I was in his arms.

  “Hey,” he said, wrapping both arms around my neck. He smelled like sweat and hay and gasoline, like he’d come right from the barn. I put my face right against his neck, breathing him in. Josh’s scent was better than anything a doctor could ever prescribe.

  He rocked us gently from side to side, just holding me until I was the one who pulled back.

  He’d flipped his hat around backward, a move he’d taken to in order to kiss me. I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Always.” He slung his arm around my shoulders and walked me to his truck. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door and helped me inside, but placed his hands on my hips to keep me from turning away from him. “You’re tired.”

  I was. I was tired and sad, and I’d been stuffing everything down so I wouldn’t lose it. I had to keep my head because for some reason, I’d found myself in a position where I had to survive. Those things I’d started to take for granted—things Gram gave me but I’d never had before her—were being threatened.

  “I’m going to talk to my dad, but I know he’ll agree to you staying.” Josh shut the door and ran around the front of the truck, hopping inside.

  I slid across the bench seat so I could be closer to him.

  “Tell me what happened.” Glancing at me, he started down the road toward his farm.

  I gave him the story. “I don’t know what they’re talking about, except that they’re seeing all of us together. Westin’s dad—he’s definitely not making a secret of what he thinks about me. When Brant was here—”

  He cut me off. “I heard.”

  Leaning my head against the seat, I stared out the window. “I love you, but I won’t let your lives be ruined.”

  I rolled my head toward Josh in time to see him cast me a quick, piercing glance. “The only life this is affecting right now is yours. What we have is good, Betsy, don’t let them make it cheap.”

  “It’s the best thing. My favorite thing.” I kissed his shoulder.

  “Then there you go.” Josh’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “Yeah?” He looked over at me and lowered it a little. “Did you forget your phone?”

  Had I? I patted my pockets and then dug into my backpack. Twelve missed calls and a flurry of texts from the other boys. “I put it in here. Totally forgot about it.”

  “She has it,” he told whoever was on there. “Put it away when she rushed out. Yeah, my house. Meet you all there?” He hung up. “They’ll probably be at my house before we are.”

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Lan,” he replied. “He had something at the country club with his dad, but he was running out. He’d already spoken to Brant and Wes.”

  If I could have figured this out on my own, taken care of myself and not involved them, I would have. But I had nothing. Literally nothing. No money. No home. But the boys were in similar positions, we were all dependent on someone right now.

  “God, we were so close,” I muttered.

  “It doesn’t mean everything has gone to shit,” Josh replied. “Things are moving faster, earlier, but we’re still good. You’re still going to New York. The rest of us are still going to school. It’s going to be okay. I have no doubt.” His voice was strong and firm. He really didn’t have any doubt things would work out.

  And the fist clenched around my heart eased a bit more.

  Ten

  Josh

  A ball of anxiety had formed like a rock in my stomach days ago and it hadn’t gone away.

  Dad and I were walking on eggshells around each other.

  The night of our argument had changed something between us. I’d stripped him of his dreams as surely as he’d stripped me of mine.

  I told Betsy it would be okay because there was no other option. We would be together.

  One truck, a silver Audi, and Brant’s motorcycle were parked outside my house, but my best friends sat on the steps. The lights were on inside, so Dad was up, but probably wouldn’t be for much longer.

  Unless he wanted to eavesdrop, which wouldn’t be like him.

  As soon as the boys saw the truck, they stood. Anxiety was etched on their faces, though they tried to hide it. Lan’s smile was tight, Wes was ready to put his fist through a wall, and Brant, I suspected, was plotting the downfall of Bets’ uncles.

  Lan caught her door before she could open it and lifted her into his arms. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hi.”

  I got out of the truck and moved to stand with Wes and Brant, both of whom waited for their chance with Betsy.

  Lan kissed her, and from the corner of my eye, the curtain was pulled aside and my dad’s face appeared in the window.

  He saw Lan and Bets. His face, deeply tanned from all of his time outdoors seemed to pale before he twitched the material, hiding.

  So much for not eavesdropping.

  “What happened?” Wes asked as soon as Lan let her out of his arms. He scooped her up, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

  She put her face in his neck, holding on tight. I had muscle memory of that. Even without her against me, I could tell you exactly how tight she held on. How her breasts would press against me and her scent would fill my nose. She’d dance for three hours and still manage to smell good to me.

  Wes released her reluctantly and we all went to sit on the steps. Brant held his arms open and she sat between his legs, leaning back in the cradle his body made for her. She went into her story, elaborating a bit more than she had with me. I hadn’t realized how much she’d kept the events of the week from us.

  Betsy loved her grandmother more than anything in the world. The woman had given her a safe place for the first time in her short life, and from the little Betsy liked to share about her time with her parents, she was grateful every single day.

  “So they’re worried about supervising you?” Landry said. “Why?”

  “My father,” Westin offered. “He’s got it in for Betsy. He’s—I don’t know—cracked. Focusing all his hatred and anger on her.”

  Face paling, Betsy nodded. “I suspected that was part of it. The other part, we should be honest about this, is that I’m not really good at hiding how I feel about you. I mean, Landry, I kissed you behind the co-op when you were dropping off those bills for your dad. I should have been smarter.”

  “I never kissed Emerson,” Lan said. “I wasn’t willing to make it look that real.”

  “I don’t even like Violet,” Brant said. “At least Emerson isn’t a garbage human. The less time I have to spend with that girl, the happier I’ll be.”

  “I’m coming clean,” Westin said. “If my dad wants someone to blame, he can blame me. Let him preach all his bullshit, I’m not going to play his games anymore. Hasn’t the worst already happened?”

  The light in the hallway clicked on, signifying my dad was headed to bed. Had he heard everything? One less person to tell.

  “We’re gonna shake up this little town,” Landry said, but his smile was real.

  “Like Westin said,” Brant leaned down and kissed Betsy’s cheek, “the worst has already happened. What else can they do?”

  Eleven

  Betsy

  I really owed Josh’s dad. He called the state the next morning, spoke to my caseworker, and arranged to be emergency foster care. The social worker, who I hadn’t seen in a year, visited the property along with another man who was responsible for licensing, and they approved it. And to my uncles’ credit, they didn’t push the whole group home th
ing. Turned out, they really just didn’t want me. If someone—anyone—else did, then they were happy to go on their way.

  I was allowed back home and under my aunt’s supervision, able to pack up the rest of my things. Aunt Tiffany, Kevin’s wife, was sweet. She helped me wrap my keepsakes and fold my clothes. We spent the time mostly in silence, but it was clear she was a little mousy and probably not the sort to stand up to people like my uncle.

  I called the boys when everything was set. Wes and Josh brought their trucks, and Brant his dad’s car, but everything I had barely filled the back of one of them.

  “Betsy?” Tiffany called to me just as I was ready to step out the door.

  I turned and saw her standing with another box. She held it out, glancing over her shoulder like someone might be watching. “I think you should have this.”

  Opening the top so I could peer inside, she waited.

  Gram’s quilt, the one her grandmother had made her when she got married, sat in the bottom of the box. On top was a picture of her and me taken at one of my dance recitals, one she’d kept on her bedside table. Nestled in a corner was another box. It was small, and one I didn’t recognize. I took it out, opened it, and stilled. Inside were Gram’s pearl posts, the ones she wore every day.

  “Laura loved you so much, Betsy. You were more of a daughter to her than any of us. She’d want you to have this. Just… just don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll be our secret.”

  I closed the top and placed it back inside the box. None of this was Tiffany’s to give, but she was right. I did want it. Those three items meant more to me than she could imagine. When I left here, the book would be closed on my birth family. I thought I’d have those things Gram gave me and nothing more. Tiffany was giving me a piece of history. Something I could pass to my children one day and say, “This was your great-grandmother Laura’s. She would have loved you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Smiling, she shut the box and handed it to me. “Good luck, Betsy.”

  “Bets?” Brant poked his head inside the house. “Ready? Josh and Wes left already.”

  “Yes. Bye Aunt Tiffany,” I said and hurried toward him.

  “What’s this?” he asked, taking the box from me to slide into the backseat of the car.

  I waited until I was inside and the door closed to tell him. Wes had already left to bring my stuff to Josh’s, so it was just him and me. He drove down Gram’s driveway, careful to avoid potholes. This was the last time I’d be down here. If I was ever to return, it’d be someone else’s house. It hadn’t really felt like my house since Gram died.

  “Aunt Tiffany gave me some of Gram’s things,” I told Brant. “Her quilt. Pearl earrings. A picture of us. It’s not much, but she thought I should have it.”

  “Good,” he replied a little harshly. “Your uncles are dicks.”

  “She told me not to tell anyone,” I went on, “so…” I zipped my finger across my lips.

  Brant pretended to lock his lips and toss the key out the window. “I’ve been thinking about something…” He peered at me and then back to the road, shifting on his seat like he was nervous.

  “You okay?” I asked. I’d been so wrapped up in myself…

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I was just thinking about college,” he said. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his beard had grown in golden brown. I studied him. While he didn’t dress up, he was always tidy. His light brown hair was cut to lay in even waves. Hazel eyes clear. He was a t-shirt, jeans, and baseball cap kind of guy.

  Today, though, his jeans and shirt were wrinkled, and his baseball hat sat on the dash of the car. His hair was messy, and he kept running his hands through it nervously.

  “Brant.” I touched his hand where he rubbed it against his thigh. “What’s going on?”

  “I want to go to New York with you.”

  Of everything I expected him to say, this wasn’t it. “What?” Brant in New York City with me? Excitement bubbled up my throat, but I pushed it down. That was what I wanted, but I didn’t want Brant to do anything just for me.

  “What about Mobile? You’ve already been accepted.”

  He shook his head then shrugged. “No. I mean, yeah, I’ve been accepted, but I don’t want to be so far from you. I can do in New York City what I want to do in Mobile. I was thinking I’d take a year off, you know, a gap year? I’ll get a job and a little roach infested apartment, and bring you Chinese food and Band-Aids.”

  I laughed. He described my perfect fantasy. To have one of them in New York with me? Metaphorically, I’d been slapping my cheeks to psych myself up for living so far away and on my own. What if I didn’t have to?

  But a year off from college… He planned on going right in, right through for four years. What if taking a break messed up his whole plan?

  “What if…” I started and then stopped. Juilliard had dorms, but I didn’t have to live there. I could get a job, too. Something part time to help him out. It would lower the total I paid at the end of it all. “What if I lived with you?” I asked. “Maybe you could start school sooner if we both worked.”

  His hazel eyes widened. “You want to live with me?”

  “Well, yeah.” I made a show of rolling my eyes. “If you’re in New York, I want to be with you.”

  His shoulders slumped, and he let out a breath. “God. I’d love it if you lived with me.” Leaning forward, he snagged his hat off the dashboard and stuck it on his head. “You don’t know how worried I’ve been. I already withdrew from school.”

  “Brant.” Pushing aside all my joking, I threaded our fingers together. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve never been so sure in my life. All I needed was for you to be happy about it. I worried…”

  “You thought I wouldn’t be happy to have you with me?” My voice lifted. Was he crazy?

  “Well, it’s Juilliard and it’s dance.”

  “And you’re my Brant. My hat wearing hillbilly.”

  He scoffed, but he blushed in that way I knew meant he liked it.

  “My scruffy nerf-herder.” I quoted his favorite movie while rasping my fingers along his beard.

  “Who made the Kessel run in—”

  I picked it up from there. “Less than twelve parsecs.”

  “You’re really the perfect woman.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. “Absolutely.” He kissed it again. “Completely. Perfect.”

  I snorted. “Hardly.” I put my other hand on top of his where it rested on my leg now. “Have you talked to the other boys?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “You know, they want to do it, too, but it’s not as easy for them as it is for me. Landry has the ummm, what’s it called, where your family goes to a school…”

  “Legacy.” Landry’s family had gone to Washington and Lee in Virginia for generations.

  “Right,” Brant said. “He has legacy and the other guys have football.”

  “I don’t want any of you to change your plans because of me. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Just so you know, I mean.” Why did this make him nervous? “This is hard for them. For you and me to go, just the two of us.”

  There hadn’t been jealousy between the boys since we’d been romantic. I’d been the jealous one, watching them with the girls they took to dances and football games. So I didn’t know how to handle this. I tucked away the thought that it would have to be addressed somehow, later.

  The rest of the drive to Josh’s house was quiet. When we got there, Josh’s truck bed was emptied and parked next to Wes’s. I didn’t even have to move my own boxes.

  Brant parked and got the final box out of the backseat before we went inside.

  “Hello?” I called. There was no one in the kitchen or living room.

  “Upstairs!” Wes called back.

  Josh and his dad lived alone after his mom died. As far as I knew, his dad never dated or was interested in anyone besides Josh’s m
om, Ronnie. I didn’t think anything in the house had changed since she died either. His mom’s keys, the one that had a plastic picture frame of the three of them attached to it, still hung from a hook next to the door.

  Brant headed upstairs, and I trailed after him. We started toward Josh’s room, but he suddenly poked his head from a doorway down the hall. “We’re in here.”

  When I walked inside the room, I realized all of my stuff had been brought in here.

  “My dad isn’t going to let us share a room.” Josh’s tan face flushed. “Sorry, Bets.”

  “Oh!” I shrugged. “That’s fine.” It made a lot of sense actually. I was sure most parents weren’t cool with their son and his girlfriend shacking up. I studied the room. In the corner, a sewing machine sat on a table. It was the only sign of the room’s purpose, and while there was a twin bed pushed against one wall, a dresser and mirror, and bedside table, it had a girly feel. The white curtains had tiny daisies embroidered along the edges, and the walls were covered in cream-colored paper printed with violets. “It’s really pretty.”

  “My dad thought you’d like it. It was Mom’s sewing room.” Josh ran his hands through his hair, turning in a slow circle. “We hung your clothes in the closet, but we didn’t empty your suitcase.”

  They’d also stood my pictures along the windowsill and stacked my books along the dresser.

  “Thank you.”

  “Right.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I have to get back to the barn to feed the calves, but then I’ll be in for dinner. Are you going to dance tonight?”

  I hadn’t been since Gram died, and I hadn’t even bothered to call Madame Giroux. But she would know about it. Everyone in town knew.

  “I should.” Just thinking about dance made me want to go. I wanted to focus on it and push every other worry and care I had aside.

  Wes had been quiet as we stood there making plans, and I wondered if what Brant had told me earlier was on his mind. “Wes?”

  He stared out the window and startled when I said his name. “What?”