by Randi Rigby
“Don’t turn around Kel,” Ginny said slowly, lowering her voice and angling her body slightly so her face couldn’t be seen. “But that guy over there won’t stop staring at you.”
“I’m kind of a freak of nature, G. It happens. A lot.” I shrugged.
“I don’t know. He followed us out of the gym. I thought he was just getting something from the concession stand but he’s been standing against that wall and watching you since we came out of the bathroom. It’s like he’s waiting for you. He’s giving me the creeps.”
“Where is he?” I carefully and deliberately screwed the lid slowly back on my water bottle.
“Gray shirt, Cowboys ball cap, over by the trophy case. Your 5:00.”
We turned around in unison but the second we made eye contact with him he immediately pulled his cap down low and quickly walked away. “See?!” Ginny grabbed my arm, her eyes wide. “Sketchy, right? Do you think we should tell someone?”
“And say what? It’s not illegal to stare. But thanks for cluing me in. I tend to be oblivious to that sort of thing. And you’re right—that was a little weird.”
She took me firmly by the hand. “Well, I’m not letting you out of my sight. And you should definitely tell Drew.”
“TELL DREW NOW.” I had the feeling that if Ginny actually knew my full name she would’ve whipped it out already—maybe twice. She’d gone into full mothering mode. The look currently on her face meant she wasn’t messing around. “If you don’t Kel, I swear I will.”
“Tell Drew what?” Drew said, his hair still wet from his shower as he and the rest of the guys emerged from the locker room. They were all smiling. It was a good night for MacArthur. Drew had a triple-double and ended the night with 27 points in their runaway victory. “Hey beautiful.” He kissed me twice in succession—the second time he lingered. “Why does it always feel like I’m just getting you back?”
“You know what they say about absence?” I said softly against his lips.
“It stinks?”
“Yeah.” I lost myself in his arms.
“Drew, Kel has some creeper following her.” Ginny said, interrupting our moment.
“What?”
“Staring,” I quickly amended because the smile just left Drew’s face. Ginny suddenly had his undivided attention. “He was just staring. It’s probably nothing.”
Ginny glared at me. “Or he could be a stalker. And if we’re not careful we’ll hear about him on the news years from now. After he’s abducted you and made you his sex slave.”
I blushed. She was continuing an argument we had during the fourth quarter when the game was comfortably in hand. The Room and Elizabeth Smart were just the tip of Ginny’s evidential iceberg. I Googled “men who stare but are harmless” as a rebuttal but she remained unmoved and unimpressed. And Tanika had annoyingly taken her side.
“Start at the beginning G,” Drew said. “What happened?”
Ginny laid out the scene again, this time for the boys, although she was improving on her story every time she told it. By the time she finished Matt, Travon, and Chris were pretty much wearing the same deadly serious expression as Drew.
“Have you seen this guy before, Kel?” Drew asked.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “She didn’t see him tonight. Not until I pointed him out.”
“Come on G, I’m 6'2". People are always staring at me.”
“Girl, you think they’re looking ‘cause you’re tall?” Travon shook his head. “She does. She really thinks that. Drew, my man, your woman needs protecting. And maybe a mirror.”
“Guys, really. I’m fine. If the four of you don’t scare him off, Ginny definitely will. Can we go celebrate already?” I looked at Drew, pleading. “Please?”
“Okay,” Drew said, throwing his hands up. “But just to be safe, I’m driving with Kel.” He tossed his keys to Chris. “You’ve got Betty tonight. Meet you all back at the Dotted T?” That was the plan. Everyone loaded up into their separate cars and drove away, the victory party now very much back on.
“You sure you’re okay, babe?” Drew asked as we made our way across the parking lot hand in hand. I wasn’t able to find a spot close to the gym.
“I’m fine. Ginny was definitely more freaked out about it than I was. Things kind of got blown out of proportion. We’ll probably never see that guy again.” But I was wrong. There he was, standing inexplicably by my car and peering in the windows.
“Is that him?” Drew’s grip on my hand tightened. With his other hand he shifted his gear bag from his shoulder to his fist.
I had a bad feeling about this. “Yes.”
Drew stepped in front of me as we silently approached the Mini. “Looking for something?” he said in a voice I’ve never heard him use before.
The man slowly turned around and just as slowly pushed up the brim of his hat. “I was.”
Drew froze and his face drained of color. “Dad?!”
9
“I’ve got friends in low places”
Garth Brooks
“What are you doing here?” Drew’s breathing was ragged and angry.
“I came to watch your game. You’ve got a pretty sweet three-point shot, son,” Andy Jarrod said quietly.
“I shut you down and your play is to stalk my girlfriend?”
“She seemed like my best chance at getting to you.”
“Unbelievable! You never change. This is between YOU and ME. Not Mom. And definitely not Kel.” Drew grabbed my hand, whisking me away from his father and around to the passenger side of the car. “You stay away from her.” He bit out each word like a finger emphatically jabbing at Mr. Jarrod’s chest.
“I just want to talk, Drew.”
Drew opened the door for me. “Too bad. The world has always revolved around what you want, Dad.” He practically spit the word out. “To hell with everyone else.” He stormed back to the driver’s side, furious, and in his father’s face. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want you watching my games. I don’t want you in my life. And if I ever find you anywhere near Kel again, I promise you’ll regret it.” Drew was still carrying all his muscle and bulk from football. He was taller, he outweighed his dad by roughly forty pounds, and he had a lot of years of white hot rage built up inside just waiting for a spark. It wasn’t an idle threat. “Have I made myself clear?”
Mr. Jarrod held both hands up in surrender. “Perfectly.”
Drew said nothing as we sped away but his jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle working in his cheek and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Deep within the recesses of my purse, my phone buzzed.
It was Ginny. U want us to order for u?
I texted her back. Something’s come up. Don’t wait for us.
R u being held hostage rn?
Give it a rest, G. But if we don’t show, don’t worry.
Srsly?
We might need some alone time.
?
xo
“Ginny. I told her not to expect us,” I reported quietly. Drew just nodded. I wasn’t even sure he heard me.
He was taking us out of the city, an unexpected road trip. I opened up a playlist Drew recently uploaded to my phone and let the sounds of Jason Mraz, Colbie Caillat, Ed Sheeran, and Jack Johnson—as well as several other local acoustic artists he followed—work their soothing, mellowing magic as their music filled the car. He’d meant for it to sing me to sleep on the nights I grew tired of listening to his voice. “Inconceivable,” I’d grinned, kissing the tip of his nose to thank him for his gift while smugly slipping in a Princess Bride reference—his favorite of the movies I’d introduced him to. Maybe his playlist hadn’t been used as intended but it had gotten me through the stress of some pretty grinding homework sessions. It seemed to be having the same effect on Drew now. His tight grip on the steering wheel lessened; the tension in his body slowly eased away.
“My father’s not a good man,” Drew finally said, finding my hand in the darkness, our
fingers intertwined as he rested them on his lap. “Things have always come too easy for him—women, money, the next high. He doesn’t have a lot of self-control and he’s a mean addict. I’m pretty sure my mom would’ve left him long before she did if it hadn’t been for me. You don’t know what he did to her. I don’t even think I know most of it—I was young and she won’t talk about it—but what I do know sickens me. The Jarrods are definitely nothing like the McCoys,” he finished bitterly.
I squeezed his hand and willed him to believe me. “You’re not your father, Drew.”
“That might be the sweetest and best thing you could ever say to me,” Drew said wryly. My heart hurt for his. “He can’t be trusted, Kel. He’s proved that over and over again. Promise me that if he’s stupid enough to try and get to you, you’ll just walk away?”
“Okay,” I said, and I could tell this was a big deal to him. “I promise.”
“Good.”
Not to change the subject—because I was pretty sure it was no coincidence Drew’s father had suddenly showed up out of nowhere—but because I was anal and had a few last minute details to iron out I smiled winningly at him. Thursday was Drew’s eighteenth birthday and I had big plans for this boy. “So, Coach Baylor’s got to be happy with how you played tonight.”
“I think the football rust is finally starting to fall off,” he nodded, obviously relieved to talk about something else, and then grinned. “Well, maybe not for Travon.” He fouled out. “But he’ll get there.”
“You think Coach B will still want extended practices?”
“I guess we’ll find out Monday.”
I tucked this information away to revisit later and gazed out my window and up at the scattering of stars overhead. “Drew?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Where are we going?”
“Not Chicago, sorry.” He looked down at the dashboard. The low fuel warning light had just turned on. Get gas had been on my to-do list. I’d just planned on doing it on my way home after the game. While still in Austin. When I’d already been coasting on fumes and a prayer. “We’re probably good for another ten miles. This road loops back to the 290. We can stop in at Dripping Springs.”
Turned out Dripping Springs, a little town just outside of Austin, not only had a gas station, it was also the wedding capital of Texas. It must be. It said so, right there on the poster. I was intrigued.
“Yeah, we love us a good wedding here in Dripping Springs and we do more than our fair share of them, that’s for sure. We’re like a classier Las Vegas.” The woman with heavily sprayed and teased blonde hair behind the register at the gas station beamed as she rang up my bottle of water and Drew’s Gatorade. Drew was still out at the pump. She nodded in his general direction. Her hair did not move. “That man of yours ever decides to put a ring on it, y’all might just want to come on back and check us out.”
To be fair, I was no longer wearing Drew’s basketball jersey—I returned it to him after the game so he’d have it on hand for his next game Tuesday night. I didn’t have time to paint my face. And unless Ginny rubbed off on me I was 100% glitter free, so nothing about me was screaming high school right now. Still. Yikes. I smiled at her. “Thanks. We will.”
“Hey Chicago,” Drew said tucking a thumb into my belt loop and drawing me close as I met him at the Mini and handed him his drink. “Here we are, out of the city, just the two of us. I can’t remember the last time I had you all to myself. We should do something to celebrate.”
I smiled up at him. “It’s been awhile. What did you have in mind?”
He opened my door for me. “Dinner. And then...who knows? Feeling adventurous?”
Me: “Absolutely.”
Also me, not forty minutes later: “We can’t go in there, Drew. We’re not old enough; we’ll get caught.” We’d just eaten BBQ at a little café after wandering the streets of downtown Dripping Springs, hand in hand. Now we were standing outside of a bar that had karaoke. Inside, someone was singing a very off-key but earnestly committed version of I Can’t Live. And Drew’s grin couldn’t have been bigger.
“If people are giving us marital advice, I think we’re good to go. Please, Kel?”
That gave me an idea. Quickly, I pulled him around the corner so we couldn’t be seen through the bar’s windows. “We’re married.” Slipping my thumb ring off, I worked it onto his left ring finger and moved my wide silver band to mine. “It’ll make us look older.”
He stared at our hands. “Married? Just like that? You really are the perfect woman. Okay. Let’s do this.”
“Wait. I’m going to put my hair up. People always say I look older with my hair up.” Digging in my purse I retrieved a hair tie and a few bobby pins. I critically inspected my reflection in the window of a parked car as I quickly pulled out a few pieces. I could legitimately pass for someone in her early twenties. I hoped. “Just please don’t try and order anything that could get us carded. I’m a terrible liar.”
When a waitress approached the little table we’d taken near the stage Drew ordered a cranberry juice for him and still water for me. “Training. Sorry,” he told her apologetically, turning on the full force of the Jarrod charm when she still tried to sell us on what was on tap. “This is our first time in Dripping Springs, Arlene.” He read her name tag featured prominently on her chest and put his devastating half-smile and those cheekbones to work. “Are most of these people locals?”
Arlene was only human. She blushed and stammered under the direct heat of Drew’s unfiltered blue gaze. “A few are. Mostly they’re tourists. We get a lot on weekends.”
“I can see why. We’ve really enjoyed our stay here, haven’t we honey?”
I smiled at them both. “We have.”
“Sing with me?” Drew begged as soon as Arlene left to get our drinks.
“No. In front of all these people?”
“They’re complete strangers, Kel. Block them out. Just look at me.”
I looked at him. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“Please?”
Arlene wasn’t the only one who was powerless against those blue eyes. I suddenly realized that Drew didn’t take advantage of being Drew nearly as often as he could. “Fine,” I sighed. “What are we singing?”
“Be right back.”
Left alone so near the front of the stage it came as no surprise that I found myself being serenaded to by a man with a beer belly and a white Stetson. Apparently, I was one of his exes who lived in Texas. Give him credit, his George Strait was not half bad. We were halfway through a strident rendition of Aretha Franklin’s Respect from a bushy-haired woman raging about the floor on four inch red heels when Drew finally returned. “We’re singing Lucky and we’re up next. The ladies in front of us in line let us cut ahead. If anyone asks, it’s the song we sang at our wedding.”
I shook my head at him. “We are going straight to hell.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “But at least we’ll be there together. Come on.”
Lucky was a Jason Mraz, Colbie Caillat duet that we had actually performed before for my family. It was disconcerting not to have a guitar in hand this time—I had nothing to hide behind. Drew gave me a microphone and a reassuring wink and then he was at his intro and he was singing, his voice caressing the notes, love and confidence behind every one. We blended well. He was right. There was something freeing about just singing for each other. His voice elevated mine. As our last note ended he leaned over and kissed me, to the delight of the other patrons who were all clapping enthusiastically and whistling their approval. Our wedding rings were on full display. We were the feel good act of the night.
We left a big tip for Arlene and slipped away, hand in hand.
On the way home Drew didn’t bring up his father. It seemed like such a closed subject I wondered if he ever would again. But he didn’t turn the music back on either. After a long stretch of quiet he suddenly started to sing a cappella—something he frequently did, somethin
g I loved about him, something that made me melt. But this time he was singing a song I hadn’t heard him sing before, Desperado, by the Eagles. It was raw and poignant and wistful and beautifully sad and I realized he hadn’t stopped thinking about his father at all.
“How would you feel about me inviting Erin over for dinner Sunday night?” Dad said as he walked into the kitchen Saturday morning where Charlie and I were both gulping water just as fast as we could after our run.
“As in meet the whole family or just me?”
Dad smiled. “I don’t think anyone’s ready for that yet—do you? I thought we could just barbecue some ribs here. Invite Drew.”
Deep breath, Kel. “Sounds fun. I can’t wait to meet her. What time are you thinking? 6:00?”
At 5:30 Sunday night the doorbell rang. It was Drew. He had the bouquet of fresh cut flowers I’d asked him to stop and pick up, his guitar for lessons later, and he was still wearing his wedding ring. “I can’t get it off.”
“Did you try soap?”
“And butter. That was Travon’s idea.”
“You’re going to freak Dad out,” I whispered, taking the flowers from him.
He left his guitar in the hall and followed me into the kitchen. “Maybe he won’t notice.”
I took down a vase. “He’ll notice.”
“Drew, nice to see you,” Dad said, giving him a hug. As he pulled away he glanced at the ring on Drew’s left hand. But he didn’t say anything because for the first time I realized he was no longer wearing his own wedding ring. Immediately, I relived the day. Was he wearing it this morning? When did he take it off? And why does the room suddenly seem to be spinning? I dropped the flowers on the counter and quickly sat down before I fell down.
Just as quickly, Drew gathered the bouquet back up and placed it in the vase.
“It was time, sweetheart,” Dad said quietly.
“I know.”
“It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”