by Tabatha Kiss
“Then, who paid—” I deflate. “Where’s Will?”
Tucker points into the garage behind him. “He’s under that Dodge over there.” I march around the counter. “But you can’t go back—”
I bolt past him into the garage and beeline for the jacked-up car in the corner. Two legs poke out the bottom, connected to a man in a blue jumpsuit laying on a rolling creeper.
“Yo, Will!” I kick his thick work boots.
Will rolls out from beneath it with a small layer of sweat and grease covering his forehead. His eyes shift from surprised annoyance to casual acceptance as soon as he sees my face.
“Oh. Hey, Jovie.” He lays a socket wrench on the floor and grabs a different size from the pile beside my feet.
“You paid my bill,” I seethe.
“No, I didn’t.”
He kicks off the floor to roll back under the car but I bend down to grab his boot and yank him back out.
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, yeah.” He nods. “I did.”
“Will, I can take care of myself. I don’t need your pity money.”
He sits up. “It’s not pity money, Jove. I’m paying you back.”
“For what?”
His lips twitch. “Brown sugar Pop Tarts.”
I stare at him. “Huh?”
Will smiles and hops up. “Every day,” he wipes his greasy hands on a cloth from his pocket, “for four years at Clover High, you bought a pack of brown sugar Pop Tarts from the school cafeteria for breakfast.”
I think back and nod. “Okay…”
“You could never eat both of them at once but you didn’t want to let the pack sit open and go bad overnight, so you offered it to me because my locker was three down from yours. So, every day for almost four years, I ate one of your Pop Tarts.”
“Right. And?”
“Pop Tarts aren’t cheap,” he argues. “I mean, I figure a pack cost you a buck-fifty a day and I ate seventy-five cents of that. Kids are in school for about one-hundred and eighty days a year, so…”
I fight the smile on my face. “Will…”
“Seventy-five cents a day times one-eighty multiplied by four? That’s five-hundred and forty dollars I owe you. Factor in like five years of interest and that brings the grand total to about seven-hundred and nineteen dollars and thirty-four cents.”
My annoyance wavers. “That’s some real coincidental math you got going on there. You’re not even factoring in vacation or sick days. I mean, I was out with mono all the time so there were plenty of days where you didn’t eat my tarts.” I lower my voice. “And I’m pretty sure like half of them were shoplifted…”
“Jove…” He takes a step closer and shoves the dirty cloth back into his pocket. “If you insist on paying me back later, that’s fine, but if I never see a penny of it ever again, I won’t miss it. Okay?”
I exhale from my quivering lungs. “Okay.”
“Now…” he looks down, “I gotta get back to work. Mrs. Nelson’s oil ain’t gonna change itself.”
I push up onto my toes and kiss him, instantly drawing a few whistles across the garage but I ignore them.
Will wraps his arms around me and raises me up until my toes dangle an inch off the floor. A sudden rush of dangerous adrenaline fires through me but his embrace keeps me feeling safe and warm.
He breaks our kiss and I lay my forehead on his. “Do you have plans tonight?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “Do you?”
“Yeah, I’m picking you up at seven.”
I grin. “Smooth.”
He laughs and kisses me once more before setting me back down. “Wait, wait…” He grabs the cloth from his pocket. “You got a little…”
I stand still as he wipes his dirty sweat off my forehead.
“Sorry.” He chuckles.
“It’s okay.” I pause and look into at his wide, hopeful eyes. “Thank you.”
He nods. “I told you… if you ever need anything, I’m here.”
I pull my eyes from his to glance around the now silent garage at the curious, staring faces of his co-workers. “Uh-oh…”
“Just ignore them,” he says, refusing to look away from me.
“Will, is this a bad idea?”
“Only one way to find out. And I really want to find out.”
My body twitches with familiar, almost forgotten, delight, but I can’t shake that feeling out of the pit of my gut. I chalk it up to being watched, as there are at least a dozen eyes still gawking at us from around the garage.
“Hey, people!” Marv shouts from his office. “Let’s get back to work!”
Will clears his throat and takes a step back as the others resume their work. “I should…”
“Change some oil.” I nod. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He smiles as he lowers himself back down onto the creeper. I keep an eye on him as I walk away and he checks me out for a second or two before rolling back underneath the car.
I turn my palm over to stare at my car keys.
Okay. Maybe fairy tales aren’t so bad after all.
Chapter 15
Will
I’ve learned over the last several years that relationships aren’t black or white. They aren’t bad or good. No relationship in the entirety of human history has worked that way. Jovie and me included.
It’s a spectrum. When things were bad with Jovie, they were bad, stretching all the way out to the far left side of the graph. But when they were good, the pendulum would sway in the other direction. Two extremes, both equally as crushing and passionate as the other.
But, you know, Jovie’s passion is what drew me to her in the first place.
I walk down Ninth Street toward the house she grew up in. A breeze passes by but it’s not biting and cold as it was this morning. It’s warm and tender; an early tease of spring. Is it coincidence that it’s here just in time for mine and Jovie’s date? Probably, but I’m not one to question nature’s way.
No, I question people and I still have a few questions for Jovie Ross.
I reach her house and the front door opens before I have a chance to knock.
Jovie rushes out and closes the door behind her just as quickly. “Hey,” she says, flashing a smile.
“Hey…” My eyes trail down her little, black dress. It’s tight around her hips with deep red lines along the seams. I raise a brow, searching my memory as she slips her jacket over her bare shoulders. “Is that…?”
“Prom night, senior year.” She nods. “It’s the only thing casual date-like I had in my closet that still fits and doesn’t have sequins all over it. Honestly, what the hell were we thinking with all the sequins?”
“No idea.” I shrug.
“Oh, well.”
The door swings open behind her and Hank sticks his head out. His black eyes land on me and he frowns before retreating right back inside and slamming the door.
“I guess he remembers me,” I say.
“He never gave two shits about who I dated my entire life. Now, all of a sudden, it’s ‘where are you going? Why are you wearing that? Who are you hooking up with now?’”
“You think he might actually be worried about you?” I ask. “I mean, you were missing for a while…”
“Not to him. I sent postcards.”
I pause. “You did?”
She nods. “Every few weeks or so.”
“And you never thought to drop one in the mailbox for me?”
Jovie takes a serious breath. “Listen, Will… before we go any further here, we should talk about that.”
My chest skips with anticipation. Four years of waiting and wondering where she was. I might actually get some answers tonight.
“Okay,” I say.
She wets her lips. “I want us to start over with a blank slate.”
“A blank slate?”
“We’ve been through a lot together already,” she continues. “Things were said and done on both sides that we’d rather tak
e back but we can’t unless we both agree to start over. We can’t make this work with the last few years hovering over our heads, right? I want to keep it in the past where it belongs and I…” she pauses, “I don’t want you to ask me where I was or why I left again.”
I remember what my mother told me. It’s none of my business until Jovie makes it my business. The more I reconnect with Jovie, the more I understand that… and the more I hate it, too. I’m not entitled to the answers I want and Jovie won’t give them unless she trusts me enough to let me back in. If starting over is a step in that direction, then it’s what I’ll do.
“Right,” I say. “That might be the best thing for us, I think.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean… I’m not the same person I was back then and neither are you. We shouldn’t try to pick things up where we left off. We should start over and, if I’m being completely honest here, I’m really intrigued by new Jovie.”
Her cheeks blush pink. “What’s so great about her?”
I step closer. “Old Jovie never would have asked that question.”
She smiles. “That’s probably true.”
I extend my hand and she takes it. “Come on.”
“Where are we going? No Bolt?”
“No Bolt,” I say, guiding her down the sidewalk toward the center of town. “I figured we’d take advantage of this good weather. Start out nice and slow with a walk and talk.”
“Sounds good.”
“And then, you have choices.”
She feigns a gasp. “Oh, I like choices.”
“They’re playing Fahrenheit 451 at the library at eight.”
“Cool.” She nods.
“Or, we can take over a pool table at Lucky’s and I can hustle you out of your Pop Tart money.”
She cringes. “Eh, don’t mention money.”
I laugh. “Okay. No evil gambling tonight.”
“Thank you. What else?”
“Oh, William! Is that you?”
We halt our stride as Mrs. Clark cries out from her porch across the street.
“Yeah,” I say, waving. “Hey, Mrs. Clark.”
“Could you come here for a moment?”
I stay next to Jovie. “I’m actually in the middle of something right now…”
Her eyes shift between us. “It’ll only take a minute.”
Jovie shakes her head. “Just tell her no.”
I hesitate, trapped between the seductress beside me and being the helpful good ole’ boy I usually am.
I release Jovie’s hand and she tilts her head. “I’ll be right back. Just… hang on.”
I jog across the street to Mrs. Clark’s porch. She smiles with delight, deepening the wrinkles on her cheeks and brow.
“What can I do for you? Is something wrong?” I ask her.
She latches onto my arm. “My granddaughter is staying with me tonight,” she says. “I want you to come inside and meet her.”
I dig my foot into her porch. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I already have plans.”
“Oh, nonsense. Reschedule. She’s only here for one night.” She pokes her head into her door frame. “Lillian! Come here, please!”
I pull my arm free. “Mrs. Clark, I’m flattered. Really. You’re very sweet for thinking of me but I’m not interested in meeting your granddaughter—”
“Here she is!”
A young woman appears on the porch in jeans and a Kansas State sweater. Petite with blonde hair held back in a sloppy ponytail. She furrows her brow and her eyes bounce between us in confusion.
“What’s up, Grandma?” she asks. “Who’s this?”
Mrs. Clark beams brightly. “Lily, this is William and he’s—”
“Way too polite to tell your granny’s geriatric ass to mind her own damn business.”
I twist around to find Jovie standing at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms are crossed and she pops one hip out in that stance saved for moments of attitude and I hesitate with an extreme rush of nostalgia.
Mrs. Clark’s jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
I rush down to take Jovie’s arm. “So, we really have to get going. It’s nice to meet you, Lillian. Thanks again, Mrs. Clark.”
Jovie smirks. “Remind me, Lillian, are you the granddaughter she publicly shamed for dating a black guy or are you the one she tried to send to gay conversion therapy? Or is that the same one? I haven’t been around in a while…”
“Jovie,” I tug on her elbow, “come on.”
Lillian’s lips twitch with a hidden smile. “The black guy.”
Mrs. Clark snaps at her. “Get back inside, Lillian.” She fires a hateful stare at Jovie’s smiling eyes. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Jovie Ross!”
“I really missed these neighborly chats, Mrs. Clark,” Jovie teases as I lead her away as fast as I can. “We should go to church together on Sunday. You and me, babe. I’ll save you a seat in the front pew. Oh, wait. Never mind. I’ll be too busy getting drunk and having premarital sex with dudes I found on the internet!”
The door slams, causing the knocker to pop up twice before it finally settles down.
I stare at Jovie on the sidewalk. “Holy shit.”
The shock melts off my face just as fast as it arrived, quickly replaced with a wide smile. This is Jovie, after all. Calling out bullshit was always high on her list of talents and favorite past times. I’d forgotten how much I missed watching it in real time.
“What?” she asks, shrugging. “She was out of line. No means no. You should learn to say it more often or people will walk all over you. Also, that girl was far from your type. Woman has no business setting people up.”
“And just what is my type?” I ask.
“Brunettes with long legs, big tits, pretty eyes, and a blatant disregard for authority.”
I pause. “Damn, that’s accurate.”
She smiles. “I know a few if you’d like their numbers.”
“No, thanks.” I take her hand again. “I’m good.”
“Your loss, then.”
Her fingers entwine with mine and I feel the gentle tickle of her thumb as it caresses my hand. We walk together down the street, drawing closer to the town square with each quiet step. Others have come out to take advantage of the nice weather, including a band of high school kids with a frisbee and other couples walking hand-in-hand like us. We continue on to the other side of the square, far away from the flying disc to find someplace to sit and talk.
My phone rings in my pocket as we reach a park bench. I pull it out and wince. “It’s Sara…”
Jovie frowns. “Don’t answer it.”
I hesitate. “Sara never calls. She’s more of a texter.”
“So?”
“So… it might be an emergency.”
She lets go of my hand. “Well, don’t tell her I’m here…”
“I won’t.” We sit down and I swipe the screen to answer. “Hey, Sara. What’s up?”
“Please tell me you’re sitting at home doing nothing right now,” Sara says.
I glance at Jovie. “Not exactly. Why?”
“I have an assignment due online by midnight and Andy is driving me nuts. Can he hang out with you for a few hours so I can get some peace and quiet?”
“Well… can’t you get Mom to take him?” I suggest. “She’s been begging to babysit more.”
“No, if he goes with her, then she’ll fill him with sugar and then he’ll be up all night.”
“So, just tell her not to give him sugar.”
“Will,” she whines.
“Sara, I’m sorry, but I’m a little tied up right now.”
“With what?”
“Just…” I pause, feeling a rush of rebellion as I gaze at Jovie’s defiant eyes. “No. I can’t help you tonight, Sara. Sorry.”
“Okay, but—”
I hang up before I hear the rest of her response.
Jovie leans in. “And how did that make you feel?”
I exhale a heft
y weight. “Pretty good,” I answer.
“Welcome to the dark side, Will Myers,” she says, hooking into my arm. “We have high self-esteem and shiny, iron spines.”
I drop the phone back into my pocket. “I feel like that’s going backfire on me tomorrow.”
“Sara will get over it,” she says. “And she has options. Rachel and Dave can take the kid.”
I nod. “Right.”
My phone rings again and we groan together.
“Jeez, she’s awfully persistent,” Jovie says.
I slide it back out and pause. “It’s Tucker.”
“Oh.” She lightens up. “Tell him I said hi. And then, you know, piss off. We’re busy.”
“Hey, Tuck,” I answer.
“Can you be on-call for me tonight?” he asks.
I flex my jaw. “You want me to work the tow for you tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I’m, uh…” He feigns a cough. “I’m sick.”
I glare at Jovie and she raises an anti-bullshit brow. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a purposeful assault.
“Okay, Tucker,” I say. “What’s going on?”
He pauses. “What do you mean?”
“You know what. Why are people bugging me tonight?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
“Tucker…” I deepen my voice. “I know all your secrets and where you live and so does Jovie — and you know what happens to men who cross Jovie Ross.”
“Okay, okay...” He sighs. “But you didn’t hear this from me.”
“Hear what?”
“It’s… well, after your very public display of affection earlier today, certain people across town kind of… created… Jovie Watch.”
“Jovie Watch?” I blink. “What the hell is Jovie Watch?”
Jovie extends her palm to me. “Will, give me the phone.”
I hold up a finger to make her wait but she snatches the phone from my hand anyway.
“Tucker—” she says into it, “what’s going on?”
I hold my breath, trying to hear the conversation but the look on her falling face tells me everything.
“Thanks, Tucker,” she says. She hangs up and hands the phone back to me.
“What’d he say?” I ask.
“Jovie Watch… is the town’s way of babysitting me.”