Hot Shot

by Karina Halle

My mom doesn't laugh. "Delilah. You have to tell him."

  Now I laugh. "Tell him what?"

  "How you feel about him."

  I shake my head. "No. No way. That's not happening."

  "It's what's best for everyone."

  "No it isn't," I cry out. "It so isn't. Mom, please, believe me. This is how I've always dealt with it. It's unrequited and it will stay that way."

  "It's preventing you from finding someone else and being happy."

  "No it isn't," I say, trying not to raise my voice, but god, I'm lying. "It isn't. Once I find the right guy, whatever I feel for Fox will go away."

  "Love," she says. "You feel love for Fox. And love doesn't go away. You can ignore it, you can bury it, you can pretend it doesn't exist. But it will continue to grow and it won't grow from a happy place. Love gets twisted, tangled. It can eventually choke you if you don't face it."

  "That's easy for you to say," I tell her. "Fox is my best friend. I am not about to ruin that. I can't lose him."

  "But aren't you anyway?" she asks. "This is the first time I've seen you visibly upset over him. The first time I've seen you want to skip out on the dinner. Don't pretend that it didn't cross your mind. You need to tell Fox and get this horrible weight off your chest."

  I get to my feet. I can't sit still anymore. Everything inside me is coming to a rolling boil, the pressure rising.

  "And give that weight to him? That's not fair. He has a girlfriend. What kind of person would that make me?"

  "He has a girlfriend right now but if you said something to him..." she trails off and looks down at her mug.

  "What? You think it wouldn't be a colossal mistake? I love him mom. He does not love me."

  "You don't know that," she says softly.

  God. Oh god, don't say things like that, don't give me hope.

  I manage to swallow. "He doesn't."

  "How would you know if you don't ask?"

  "Because. I've never picked up on anything like that before. Back in high school, he had the chance to kiss me and he didn't. We played spin the bottle and he wouldn't do it."

  She laughs richly. "Oh, sweetheart. You're basing it off of that? Listen, I won't pretend to know how Fox feels or what he's thinking. But I've watched you both grow up together. You have chemistry. The basis for attraction is there. You're both beautiful people who get along like nothing else. Your connection is stronger than steel and I know that no matter what, you can't damage that bond. If you sit him down and tell him how you feel, not only will you finally feel free from that cage you've put around your heart, but you'll give him something to think about. Maybe you’ll give him that same sense of freedom."

  I don't agree. None of this makes any sense. Fox won't "think" about it. I'll scare him off. I'll severe the connection between us. For all I know, things with Julie will continue to get more serious. I might have been the one he invited over to take care of the squirrel, and then later for lunch, but that's just old habits. I've always been the one who's at his beck and call. It doesn't even shame me anymore. Back when we were younger, I'd sometimes do his homework just because he asked.

  "It wouldn't work," I tell her. "You don't know it until you're in it and I'm in it. I've been here a long time, I can handle more. Besides, maybe he will get serious with Julie and maybe she's meant to be with him and maybe I'm not supposed to get in the middle and fuck it all up."

  "Language," my mother warns.

  I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I'm glad I finally told you. Lord knows I've had to tell someone. But that's all I'm willing to do. I'll get over it one day, I swear I will. I know this makes me all sorts of crazy but…it’s just the way things are. This is my life."

  She stares at me, a hard look in her eyes, the wheels turning in her head. "I can't tell you what to do, Del. All I can do is be there for you and stand behind your decisions. You're a grown woman with a great head on her shoulders and I'm very, very proud of you. But, you have to know that there are consequences for keeping secrets as big as this."

  It's not a secret, I want to say. It's not big.

  But that would be a lie.

  She goes on, "Unrequited love is a poison for the heart. Something that works slowly over time, like adding arsenic to milk, little by little, day by day. Undetectable on the surface but destroying you underneath. Love will give and give and give but unless you let it loose, it will only take from you until there's nothing left."

  Fuck. Though my mother is usually fond of lectures, I've never seen her be so serious before, especially over something as personal as love. I have to wonder if it has something to do with my father. Even though she's dated a few men off and on over the years, no one has really stuck it out.

  Despite my long overdue confession, the tears and the ominous love lessons, my mother and I still agree to go to dinner. In a way I do feel better about the whole thing, probably because I know my mother knows the truth. It feels good to have someone on your side, who has your back.

  That said, I do take a little bit of extra time to make myself look good for the evening. Normally I put my hair back in a ponytail and wear jeans or shorts and a loose tank top and be done with it. This time I decide to wear my hair down. It's shockingly long, past my breasts, shiny thanks to some serum I slicked over it, light brown with gold streaks through it that I get when I'm out in the sun. I usually can't stand the feeling of my hair around my shoulders or face so that's why it's often pulled back, but I'll deal with it for tonight.

  I also do some light makeup—tinted moisturizer, smudgy rust-colored eye shadow and a few coats of mascara to bring out my hazel eyes, a bit of peachy lip balm and a swipe of subtle gold highlighter. For clothes, I put on black skinny jeans with rips at the knees that I know for sure Dick will make fun of and a simple white V-neck T-shirt.

  Then I add the pièce de résistance, a necklace with a fox pendant. Fox had gotten it for me one year when we went to a flea market together at the next town over. He said it was to remember to "don't give a fox." Which of course was a lame pun but I swear I fell in love with him twenty times over that day. I don't wear the necklace often since I'm not actually a fan of jewelry, but it's always hanging in my mirror where I can see it and no “fox” are given.

  I smile at my reflection but the smile doesn't meet my eyes. I know I look good but I also know that it doesn't really matter to someone like Fox, who has seen me both at my best and my worst. Oh well, can’t hurt to try something new.

  My mother and I get in the car and soon we're leaving the boundaries of town and crossing over the Queen's River Bridge toward Ravenswood Ranch, the sun low in the west. The Nelson's ranch takes up nearly the entire north side of the river, between it and Cherry Peak, to Willow Lake and back. From this drive you really see the land in all its wild glory, the rolling hills and the tufts of sagebrush and grass between ponderosa pine. Cattle and horses are scattered dots among the velvet gold. This place was my home growing up and it never ceases to mean something to me.

  But for the first time, on this drive I've done a million times, I'm nervous.

  It's not just that my mom had that talk with me and now I've got it in my head that I need to talk to him (even though I know I won't). It's that everything feels like it's coming to a breaking point. Maybe it will be something I say. Maybe it's something Fox will do. Or Julie. Perhaps they'll announce she's moving in or they’re getting married. Crazier things have happened.

  I just know that no matter what it is, something is changing and it's changing for good. There's too much electricity in the air and there isn't even any hint of thunderstorms.

  "Here we are," my mother says, as I park the car alongside Maverick's truck, with Fox's forest green Jeep on the other side. She pats my hand. "Things are going to be fine. It's the same old same old at the Nelson's."

  But the moment we step inside the house, we know it's not true.

  The first person I see is Julie.

  Julie with her pixie cut and her cheekbones is stand
ing in the kitchen in one of Vernalee's aprons, a glass of wine in hand. Rachel and her mother, Vernalee, are also in aprons and laughing about something. Julie looks right at home.

  In the living room, Fox is sitting down on the couch with a beer, talking to Maverick about something. Shane, Dick, and Hank are all sitting around the table with whisky, while Dick is eating a bag of potato chips as if we aren't all about to eat a huge meal.

  The only person missing is Riley.

  Regardless, it feels like my mother and I are interrupting a family we aren't a part of and considering I was raised here in the little cabin right next door, that's an odd feeling to have.

  I glance at my mother to see if she feels it too, but she's smiling at everyone as she always does and so I'm pretty sure it's just in my head.

  "Sorry we're late," she says, even though we're not late at all. Then her eagle eyes spot the chips in Dick's hand. "Dick, what are you doing spoiling your appetite like that? Shane, Hank, you know all that trans fat isn't good for him."

  Shane and his father look overly reprimanded with their heads down, which almost makes me laugh.

  My mother melts into the room effortlessly while I stand by the door, my eyes darting between Julie giggling in the kitchen with Rachel (traitor!) and then over to Fox on the couch. Neither of them have seemed to notice me yet.

  Then Maverick does with a jerk of his chin and I say, too loudly, like I can’t control the volume of my voice, “Where’s Riley?”

  “On call,” he says, getting to his feet. “Want a beer or a glass of wine?”

  I can’t help but notice that it’s Maverick who is offering, not Fox. Not that Maverick isn’t always trying to make people feel taken care of. He’s good at that.

  “A beer would be great, thanks,” I tell him, forcing my eyes to stay on Mav as he goes to get my drink. “Too bad she had to work.”

  “I don’t think she minds,” Fox says and I wait a moment, pressing my lips together before I look at him.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask.

  He shrugs with one shoulder, the beer dangling between his fingers. “Our family can be a bit much. She was probably grateful for the break.” His eyes narrow as he looks me over. “You look different.”

  “Nice different?” I ask pointedly.

  His gaze goes to me again, as if he’s giving himself permission to take me all in. I swear my skin heats up as his eyes trail over my legs to my stomach, to my breasts, finally to my face. I can’t read his expression; his eyes are glittering with something I’m too afraid to look into.

  “Yeah,” he says thickly. “Nice, different.”

  “Here you go,” Mav says, slicing right through the moment like a blade and handing me my beer. “Hey, you’ve got like makeup on and stuff.” He grins. “I like it. You’re like my sexy sister.”

  “That’s what everyone wants to hear, Mav,” I tell him with a laugh.

  Mav reaches out and runs his hand over my hair, letting it glide between his fingers. “And…oh my god. What is this? You have…hair?”

  “Shut up,” I tell him jokingly, stealing another glance at Fox. He doesn’t look too happy with the way Maverick is touching me, even if it was preceded by the fact that I look like his sexy sister. Then again, I remember a dinner here once, before Riley and Maverick were dating when they were just co-workers, and Fox was dancing with her. Bugged the shit out of me and Maverick.

  So maybe that’s why I gently touch Mav’s tattooed forearm (he’s even bigger and more muscled than Fox is) and say, “Jeez, all this attention, I might have to wear my hair down more often.”

  “And the lip gloss,” Mav says, eyes settling on my lips. “Nice touch.” He gives me a wink and now I’m pretty sure he’s doing it for the same reasons I am. Mav has always had my back.

  Not unlike my mother. By now she’s in the kitchen talking to Julie and smiling politely at her.

  Mav’s eyes follow mine and he puts his hand over mine holding the beer and manually forces it up to my mouth. “Drink up buttercup.” I can almost see him thinking, You’re going to need it.

  I take a gulp of the beer, my eyes giving him a grateful look, and then Fox gets to his feet, clearing his throat as he brushes past us and goes straight to Julie in the kitchen.

  I immediately look away but Mav is still here, staring at me.

  “You going to be okay?” he asks gently.

  I give him a dry look. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Mav watches me for a moment, pursing his lips. “It’s not often he brings a girlfriend over to dinner. It’s not often he has one.”

  “I’m happy for him.” Tight smile. Another sip of beer. I can do this. “Truly. It’s about time.”

  Mav opens his mouth to say something just as I hear Dick exclaim from behind me. “Now who is this stranger?”

  I turn around and Mav’s grandpa is smiling in surprise. I’m pretty sure he knew it was me, I mean it’s not like no one has ever seen me with my hair down and he’s not that senile.

  Then he frowns at my jeans.

  “Delilah, I hate to tell you this but your jeans have holes in them. Did you wrestle with a steer or what?”

  “It’s called fashion, Dick.”

  “If that’s what constitutes as fashion nowadays, you kids can keep it,” he grumbles, giving me a dismissive wave before popping a chip in his mouth that he had hidden in his flannel shirt pocket and heads back to Shane and Hank at the table.

  “Delilah sweetheart,” my mom calls out to me from the kitchen. “Come over here.”

  So much for my mother being my rock.

  I exchange a quick glance with Mav before I sigh and trudge on over to her.

  “You’ve met Julie, right?” my mom asks innocently, which forces me to now look at the fact that both Julie and Fox are standing in front of her and Fox has his arm around Julie.

  Fuck.

  I nod while I raise the beer to my lips and start swallowing down the rest of it. God help me.

  I also want to kill my mother. How can she do this after everything I just told her? I mean, she saw me crying my eyes out over my feelings for him and now she’s forcing me to look at it and confront it and…

  Oh…

  Shit.

  This is tough love, isn’t it?

  And because I’m not saying anything because I’m frantically finishing my beer, Julie then says, all white teeth and perky lips, “We were all at The Bear Trap on Friday night. I can see why all the locals like to hang out there. It’s a great place.”

  She’s nice. I hate that she’s nice.

  “Del took it over a few years ago,” Fox says. His grip tightens around Julie’s shoulder while he’s simultaneously smiling at me, a smile that would normally make my knees feel weak but now is just flaming the anger and embarrassment inside. “She’s done an amazing job.”

  I finish the beer and clear my throat, trying to shrug. “Well, you know. The peanut shells really class up the joint.”

  “We like to think of Delilah as the town babysitter,” Vernalee says, holding a salad bowl between her hands. “Whenever we don’t want to deal with our husbands or significant others for a while we just drop them off there.”

  Julie laughs and places her hand on Fox’s chest. “Good to know.” She glances up at him with an impish smile. “Now I know where to put you when you’ve been misbehaving.”

  Hurts. This hurts.

  “Del,” Rachel says quickly, gesturing to the cupboards with her head. “Help me set the table, okay?”

  I mumble something in agreement, the room starting to feel swimmy, and hurry on over to her. With my back turned to Fox, Julie, my mom, and Vernalee, I feel scant relief. My face is going hot, my heart is racing. Jesus. I need to get a fucking hold of myself here, this is crazy.

  “Hey,” Rachel whispers to me as she takes out the plates and hands them to me. “Are you okay?”

  I really wish people would stop asking me that.

  But al
l I can manage to do is clamp my lips together until they feel bloodless and nod.

  Rachel looks over her shoulder and then eyes me. “I know this is weird.” She pauses. “And before you can tell me that you’re fine, Del, I know you and I know you’re not fine. You looked like you were about to faint back there.”

  “Low blood sugar,” I say feebly.

  “Come on people, let’s get eating or I’m opening another bag of chips!” Dick yells from the dining room.

  “Don’t you dare!” my mom volleys back.

  We make quick work of it, Rachel and I setting the table while Dick grumbles to anyone that listens about how hungry he is and how we’ll all find out in a few years that trans fat is actually good for you and how I’ve finally dressed up by wearing jeans with holes in them, then Vernalee and my mother put out the spread.

  As usual with the Sunday roasts, it looks delicious. A rib roast with crackly skin, new potatoes, carrots and parsnips. Even when the weather gets stiflingly hot in the summer, like it is now, the warm and hearty meals never change. Before Vernalee moved into the Nelson’s house (and Rachel into the guest house with Shane), it was Hank and Shane who made the meals. They’re both good cooks but you can tell the pride and effort Vernalee puts into it, plus the gathering as a whole. For a bunch of people who have lost loved ones and found new loved ones, it’s a way of keeping us together like family.

  I sit down at the table between Maverick and my mother and try not to wince when Fox and Julie sit down directly across from me.

  Needless to say, I spend a lot of the meal with my head down, trying to eat, even though I’ve completely lost my appetite. I’ve discovered there’s one good thing about having your hair down, it’s that you can hide your face, even if it gets in your food half the time.

  Maybe it’s the amount of wine I’ve had with dinner but when dessert comes out—lemon meringue pie—I dare to look up and actually watch Fox and Julie together. It’s like trying to catch a glimpse of a car wreck. It’s morbid that you even want to watch to begin with and it makes you feel like a dirty-person inside, but you can’t keep your eyes away.

  It’s not even anything vulgar that makes my lungs seize up.