My hairline prickled. Being made to sound like a child might be worse than getting sent back inside.
Manning shook his head fractionally. “She wasn’t bothering me.”
It didn’t sound convincing. My stomach clenched at the realization that maybe I was annoying him, and he’d just been too polite to say anything. My butt began to ache from the wall, but I stayed put. Tiffany was about to pull the plug on my afternoon, and I wanted to soak this up. The sun on my back. The sweat and dirt. Manning. I hadn’t realized until now how little I’d been outside this summer because of studying.
“You work out here?” Tiffany asked. “One of your crew whistled at me yesterday.”
“I saw,” Manning said. “Did you hit it off?”
“With him? God, no. He’s not my type.”
Manning nodded. “Then it won’t happen again. The catcalling.”
“Oh. It was no big deal.” She shrugged, running a light fingertip along her collarbone. “Manning. That’s a cool name.”
“I had no say in it.”
She laughed. “What about you, Manning? You have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“You live around here?”
“Not that close.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
My gaze had been bouncing back and forth between them, and I did a double take. He wasn’t even close to Tiffany’s age. He might even be too old for her.
“Want to come inside for a beer?” Tiffany asked.
We weren’t allowed to drink our parents’ alcohol. It should’ve gone without mentioning since Tiffany wouldn’t be twenty-one for two more years, but it had been said, more than once, since Tiffany had stolen from their stash before.
I didn’t know what would be a worse offense in my parents’ eyes—drinking their alcohol or inviting one of the workers into their home. I would be sworn to secrecy afterward. I didn’t like lying to my parents, but sometimes, a teenage girl like my sister could be more menacing than anyone.
“I’m working,” Manning answered.
Tiffany closed one eye against the sun and smiled. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Lunch break.”
I looked up at him. “But you have no food.”
“I’m on a diet.”
Tiffany laughed. I drew my brows together. Was that a joke? He didn’t seem like the funny type but it was even less likely he’d go on a diet. I forced a chuckle as well.
“Come inside,” Tiffany said. “Lake’ll make you a sandwich. She makes the best ones.”
“Sorry,” he said. His eyes stayed on me. “I don’t think your parents would like it.”
I must’ve stared at him like I was seeing the sun for the first time, but I didn’t know how to help that. I knew he shouldn’t come in. I wanted him to. If he didn’t, either Tiffany would leave and make me go with her or she’d want to be alone with him.
“I’ll make you a sandwich,” I blurted.
Manning looked over my head. “I can’t.”
“Okay, fine.” Tiffany turned to nod at me. “Don’t you have homework or something? Get lost.”
Manning’s dark eyes narrowed on Tiffany. “You talk to your sister that way?”
She brushed hair from her neck, visibly reddening. “She knows I’m joking. Don’t you, sis?”
I nodded. Tiffany wasn’t joking. Her thin smile and rigid back were a silent warning—go away, or else. It wasn’t fair, though. I’d been here first. “I don’t have any more homework. Tomorrow’s my last day.”
“Oh.” Tiffany shifted feet. “I bet Manning would like if you brought him a sandwich then.”
I figured Manning probably would like that. I didn’t want to go, but Tiffany would find a way to get what she wanted, and at least this way, I’d be doing something for Manning, too. “Okay.”
Manning sighed. He looked down at me and then over at Tiffany. “I’ll come in, but I only have twenty minutes.”
Tiffany grinned. “Cool.”
Manning jumped down from the wall. I started to slide off, too, but he caught my waist at the last minute. His hands were so large, they nearly wrapped all the way around me. I got hot and cold all at once, doing everything in my power not to shiver so I wouldn’t give myself away. He set me on the ground gently, like a porcelain statue on a shelf. “It’s not good for your ankles if you don’t know how to jump,” he told me.
“But you did it.”
He smiled a little. “You always argue with someone who’s looking out for you?”
Tiffany pulled on Manning’s elbow. “Come on.”
I followed them across the lot toward the house, the feel of his hands on my waist lingering. They were enormous. And hot. They made me hot—my cheeks, my chest, all the way down, between my legs. This time I did shiver, just replaying it in my head. Thankfully I was behind them, out of sight. Tiffany would think I was ridiculous for getting so excited over being helped off a wall.
Just now, in less than five minutes, she’d gotten more information out of him than I had all afternoon. It was as if they were speaking a language I only sort of understood, like when the Brazilian exchange student in my Spanish class spoke Portuguese to confuse the teacher.
In the entryway, Manning looked around. He seemed even bigger inside. We had vaulted ceilings, but I was sure if he stretched hard enough and jumped high enough, he could touch them. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt. I needed something to do with my hands. I needed to stop staring.
Tiffany called us into the living room where she was hunched over the mini-refrigerator behind Dad’s bar. “We have Corona or Budweiser.”
“Should you be drinking when you’re working?” I asked.
Manning had tipped his head back to take in my dad’s impressive selection of liquor, but he dropped just his eyes to mine. “No. I’ll take a Coke if you’ve got it.”
“Go make the sandwich, Lake,” Tiffany said.
“What kind do you want?” I asked him.
He spread his long fingers over his stomach and for the first time, he grinned. “I’ll eat anything you make.”
I couldn’t help responding with my own smile. “All right. I’ll make the Lake Special.”
Coined by my dad, the Lake Special consisted of sliced turkey and ham layered between cheddar and provolone cheese, smothered in mayonnaise and barbecue sauce, topped with lettuce, tomato, and avocado. For Manning, I’d add extra meat, since he had a hard job and looked big enough for two sandwiches.
I pulled ingredients from the fridge, trying unsuccessfully to catch words from the conversation in the next room. I didn’t want Tiffany to know more about him than I did. What if they talked about something personal? Got closer, while I was in here fussing with deli meat? Once everything was laid out in front of me and I could no longer stand the idea of them alone together, I called out, “It’s almost ready.”
Manning entered the kitchen and walked around the island where I stood slicing an avocado. For one brief moment, his heat warmed my back, and then it was gone. He washed his hands, took a stool on the opposite side of the island, and nodded approvingly. “That is a monster sandwich.”
“Well, you’re a big person,” I said without thinking. “Not that you’re fat. Obviously, you’re not.” I focused on placing the avocado in neat slices across the meat to disguise my awkwardness. Nobody in my life was double my size, but pointing it out felt rude. “You don’t have to eat it all.”
“I won’t leave a crumb.”
I looked up at him. Manning sat still, just watching as I built his sandwich. We exchanged a smile right before Tiffany came in, set the sodas down, and reached across the island to pluck some avocado from the sandwich. “Are you from here, Manning?” she asked, taking the seat next to him.
With a frown, I took a fresh avocado from the fruit basket. Tiffany never made her own food, so she didn’t respect the art of presentation.
I cut into the gnarly skin as Manning
eyed the knife in my hand. “Want me to do that?” he asked.
“I do it all the time.”
“Los Angeles area,” he answered Tiffany.
“Really?” she pressed.
“Sort of. Pasadena.”
“Do you have family here?”
“No.”
I pretended to mind my own business. It hadn’t crossed my mind to ask where he was from. I placed a slice of sourdough bread on top of the sandwich, cut it down the middle, and admired my work. In two halves, the sandwich nearly toppled over.
“You might not be able to hear it, but my stomach’s grumbling,” Manning said.
Tiffany giggled.
“Almost done.” I took a jar of pickles from the fridge, gripped the lid, and twisted. Nothing happened. I flexed my hand and tried again, putting more muscle behind it. The top didn’t budge.
“So no girlfriend and no family. Why Orange County? When did you move here?”
Manning took the jar from me, popped it open, and handed it back. “When I turned eighteen. I like the weather.”
“I loosened it for you,” I said as I concentrated on selecting the best pickle in the jar.
“I know,” he said.
“What do you like to do for fun?” Tiffany asked.
“What d’you mean?” Manning cracked his neck, his eyes conspicuously on the sandwich, as if it might grow legs and make a run for it.
“You’re annoying him,” I said to Tiffany.
“I’m annoying him?” she shot back. “What do you know about anything, Lake?”
I ignored her. For some reason, making Manning’s food had made me brave. Invincible. I had something he wanted. Once I was happy with the placement and position of everything on the plate, I slid it across the counter.
Manning grabbed the sandwich and dug in.
I watched, rapt, as he finished half in four bites.
After swallowing, he took one long swig of soda, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He must’ve downed half of it. “This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had.”
The way I grinned, I probably looked like an idiot, but I didn’t even care.
“I told you she makes a good sandwich.” Tiffany leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Manning’s. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Manning nodded and wiped his mouth on his shoulder sleeve. I handed him a paper towel.
“Are you in college?” Tiffany asked.
I couldn’t believe she was so brazen—touching him like he belonged to her. Asking him personal questions. I’d put up with my sister for sixteen years, but suddenly I found her unbearably obnoxious. “Are you?” I asked.
“Shut up, Lake. Why don’t you go play with your dolls?”
My face heated. Manning looked between both of us as he chewed.
“I don’t play with dolls,” I told him.
“You have stuffed animals on your bed,” Tiffany said. “You’re like a five-year-old—”
“No, I’m not,” I said in a panic. I didn’t need Manning thinking I was any more childish than he probably already did. “Mom put those there. I don’t even like them.”
“Just go away already,” Tiffany said.
Manning chewed his food calmly, but when he spoke, his words were sharp, delivered in a level, deep voice that left no room for argument. “I told you before, don’t talk to your sister like that.”
We both shut our mouths, but Tiffany glared at me. I felt it, even when I looked away.
“You must not have siblings,” Tiffany said airily, glancing sideways at him. “We fight like that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“He has a sister,” I said, excited to be in possession of information Tiffany wasn’t.
“Is she in L.A.?” Tiffany asked, giving me her shoulder to face Manning.
“No.” He wiped his mouth with the paper towel and finished off his soda. His plate was empty. “I should get back to work.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. It was over already? I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. “Do you want another sandwich?”
He stood and rubbed his stomach. “I don’t want to say no, but no. Thanks, though.”
“Okay.” I shifted on my feet. “Need some help out there?”
He raised his brows at me. Again, I noticed the flecks in his eyes, as if they were sparkling. “What are you gonna do?” he teased. “You can’t even lift most of the tools out there, forget the materials.”
I basked in the glow of his rare playfulness.
Tiffany followed as he left the kitchen. I went to a window at the front of the house. Manning stood at the end of the drive with her. I willed him to acknowledge me. I was greedy. I’d spent a lot of time with him today, but I wanted more.
He didn’t look up, though. Instead, he said something to Tiffany.
Whatever it was, it made her smile.
3
Lake
Just because my dad wasn’t necessarily a large man didn’t mean he wasn’t scary. Chief operating officer at a pharmaceutical company, he was second-in-command at work and had final say on all things concerning the Kaplan family here at home.
That worked okay for my mom and me. Mom knew how to manage his temperaments, sometimes with just a simple word or gesture. She said he had a sense of humor that most people didn’t get. And I just did what he said. He was my dad. He knew better than I did.
Tiffany was a different story. That night, after I’d helped Mom clear the dinner table, I passed by his study on my way to my room. It wasn’t unusual for me to hear them arguing in there, but the mention of my name made me stop.
“Lake deserves a night off,” Tiffany was saying. “More than that. She’s been doing schoolwork all summer.”
“I don’t expect you to understand the value of hard work,” he said calmly. “But your sister does. Don’t interfere.”
“One night at the Fun Zone is hardly interfering,” she said.
Over dinner, Tiffany had mentioned she was taking me to the fair that weekend. Dad had shut it down, worried I was losing focus because I was still reading The Grapes of Wrath after two weeks.
After a weighty silence, my dad said, “Do you think I’m stupid, Tiffany? You honestly expect me to believe you want to spend a Saturday night playing arcade games with your little sister?”
“Yes,” she said. Tiffany acted tough most of the time, but I heard the hurt in her voice.
“God only knows what you really have planned. Probably some unsupervised party at one of your degenerate friends’ houses. The answer is no.”
I frowned. Tiffany didn’t have to be in there sticking up for me. She was telling the truth after all.
“She couldn’t possibly be a better student, so why can’t she have fun, too?” Tiffany asked. “I swear, we’ll go right to Balboa and come home.”
“I don’t believe you. And I tell you something, if I’d ever lied to my father, I would’ve gotten a beating for it.”
“Go ahead, then. Beat me.”
With a gasp, I put my hand on the doorknob to intervene. Fear made me hesitate. I rarely stood up to my dad. I wasn’t even sure how he’d take it if I did.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he responded. “Your mother and I have never lain a hand on you. In fact, we let you do whatever the hell you want. All I’m asking is that you leave your sister alone. She’s on track to get everything she wants, and I’ll kick you out of this house before I let you drag her down.”
“You’re such a jerk,” Tiffany said. “All you care about is Lake. If I left tomorrow, you wouldn’t even notice.”
“I certainly would, but you won’t. You need money and a job to move out. That shouldn’t be too hard, or so one would think.”
My heart beat double-time. I didn’t want Tiffany to leave. She could be difficult, yes, but I liked knowing she was in the next room. I knew no matter what, if I really truly needed her, she’d be there.
I jumped back as Tiffany blew out of the study and upstairs. Aft
er a few seconds, her door slammed. I wasn’t sure what to do—comfort her or keep my distance.
Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Everything all right?”
“They got in a fight,” I said.
She glanced toward the staircase. “Give your sister some space,” she said, turning back. “She’ll calm down.”
“Lake?” Dad called. “Get in here.”
I had no reason to be nervous, but my mouth went suddenly dry. Tiffany was both stupid and brave for regularly picking fights with my dad. I didn’t consider myself either of those things.
I peered into the study. Dad sat at his desk, tinkering with his new computer. We were only allowed in there when he was home. He had important papers and files that couldn’t be disturbed, and as of a few weeks ago, we were most definitely not to go near the study. He’d purchased the IBM he said was worth more than me. After a month of debate over whether he actually needed a personal computer, he’d let me go with him to pick it out. He’d spent two days just setting it up, and that night, he’d let me watch as he’d moved icons around, opening them, showing me what he’d called “the future in a box.”
I crept into the room.
“When will you get your summer school grades?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s unacceptable that we have to wait at all.”
“Not for a couple weeks,” I said. “But I’ll get an A-plus in both classes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He breathed in so deeply, his chest expanded. With his exhale, he relaxed back into his leather chair. “That’s my girl. What would I do without you?”
I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”
“Just that I don’t think I would’ve survived another emotional teenager. You’re like me. Focused. Logical.” He leaned his elbows on the desk. “Now, let’s talk about the reading list. You’re falling behind?”
I wasn’t as dramatic as my sister, but I hadn’t considered I might be more like my dad. If I was a little of both, where did that put me? “This book is just longer than the others,” I said.
Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection Page 3