by B. B. Hamel
“So soon?”
“Sorry.” I give in to my urge and put my hand on his chest. Sure enough, it’s pure muscle. He smirks and tilts his head. “Our security guy is here to get me.”
“Really?” he asks.
I let my hand drop. “Really. I think he feels bad for me.”
“Rough.”
“I know. But he’s a nice guy.”
“Well, hey. It was good to see you again.”
“Yeah. Good to see you, too.”
I stand there and stare at him, and I remember the way I felt back behind the school all those years ago, waiting for my ride. I was so nervous and afraid, and I knew he didn’t know what I wanted, but I still wanted it anyway. I realize with a start that I still want it, I’ve been wanting it for years.
“Give me your number,” he says. “I got a new one for work a few years ago and stopped using the other one.”
I rattle it off and he sends me a text. I smile and nod. “Got it.”
“I’ll see you again soon then, Lora Lofthouse.”
“Bye, Dean.”
I linger then turn and walk away as fast as I can. I feel his eyes on me until I slip back up through the woods and head along the dirt road.
Johnson’s parked a little ways up. I climb into the family sedan and he turns to look at me. “Had fun?” he asks.
I nod once. “More than I expected.”
He smiles. “Good to hear. You should have some fun while you’re at home.” He turns the car on and heads back home.
I stare out the window, surprised at my own melancholy.
2
Dean
I stare at Lora Lofthouse’s Facebook page for a full two minutes.
I’m exhausted, but fortunately not hungover. If I had kept drinking, I’d be a wreck today, but I’m not stupid. I know my dad isn’t about to go easy just because it was my birthday the night before.
I didn’t know half the people there. I have plenty of friends, sure, but now that my dad’s on the town council, I’ve found a lot of friends I didn’t even know about are suddenly coming out of the woodworks. It’s not so bad, and anyway, he’s just the councilor for a small town. It’s not like we have any power to do anything.
It’s not like I’m a Lofthouse.
“There you are.”
I looked up at my dad standing in the doorway of my office. I expected this visit. I click out of Lora’s page as quickly as I can as he comes over and sits down in the chair in front of my desk.
He looks tired, but he always does. He says it’s from working so hard. His thinning hair is going gray and his skin is wrinkled. He smells like cigarettes, even though he quit a couple years ago. He’s wearing a blue short-sleeve polo shirt tucked into khaki pants and looks like he’s about to go play golf or something.
“How’s it going, Councilor?” I say.
He grins. “Not bad, not bad. You have a good time last night?”
“I did,” I say. “But not too much.”
“Good boy. Work comes first.”
I nod. That’s always been his motto. Work comes first.
Even when my mother was sick and dying. Even when I was growing up. Work comes first.
“What can I do for you?” I ask him.
“Just checking in.” He tilts his head. “Your old man can’t come say hello?”
“No, you can’t,” I say. “And you only do it when you either want something or want to check up on something. So let’s get to the point.”
He laughs but doesn’t look offended, even though I might want it to annoy him just a little bit. “All right, all right. Well, you know how we’re working on opening a new car wash up on Spruce?”
I nod. “Yeah. I saw the construction, it’s coming along.”
“Well, there’s a problem with the permit now. Can you fucking believe it?”
I laugh. “You’re on the council. Give yourself a permit.”
“Fucking can’t. Some asshole is making my life hard.” He shakes his head. “I know it’s those Lofthouse bastards. They hate that some of us little people are starting to grow out from under their shadow.”
I sigh. “I doubt it, Dad. I mean, do you really think they even notice you?”
“Of course they do,” he growls. “I’m a damn councilor.”
“They don’t mess with politics.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s what they say.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You’re always so quick to defend that damn family. Just because you were friendly with that one girl, what’s her name? And suddenly you think you know best.”
“Lora,” I say. “And I’m just reporting what I know.”
“Well, take your old man’s side for once, will you?”
I sigh. “Fine. The Lofthouse family sucks. Good?”
“Great.” He grins at me. “Anyway, they’re giving me trouble about that car wash. Something about how the permit only allows one car at once? But we’re building a double, that’s the whole point.”
“Why?” I ask. “There aren’t enough cars in Loftville that need washing.”
He snorts. “You see how many damn trucks there are around here? Look, it’ll be profitable, trust me.”
“Fine, sure, whatever. I don’t know what I can do about your permit issue, though.”
“I don’t either, but I’m putting you on it. I’m sick and tired of dealing with that office, and besides, they’re starting to act like I’m being unethical. Me, unethical, it’s insane. But fine, sure, it’s on you now.”
I close my eyes for a moment and rub them. “Are you sure?” I say. “You have a million cronies that’ll be happy to win some points. Get one of them to do it.”
“Nope, it’s got to be someone I trust, and I don’t trust anyone more than you.” He grins at me. “So go get ‘em, son.”
“Fine,” I say.
He stands up. “Glad you’re on board. Hey, when it’s up and running, how about you manage it?”
I hesitate. “That’s a nice offer.”
“Think about it. I’ll add that on to your salary. Hell, if you want, you can be co-owner.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really. I’ll put your name on it and everything. You run it yourself.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Think about it while you get that permit for me.”
“I will.”
He nods and leaves my office. I sit there and stare at my blank screen before pulling up Facebook again.
Lora Lofthouse.
She really does look good. She looks like her old self, and she’s always been really pretty, but she filled out now. Her figure is incredible and I couldn’t help but sneak looks at her long, lean legs in that short skirt of hers. And when she put her hand on my chest, I almost grabbed her wrist and pulled her against me.
I know she would’ve liked it. I know she would’ve kissed me back.
But I wasn’t sure if it was the beer talking or not. So I let it slide.
I won’t make that mistake a second time.
I take out my phone and pull up her number.
Me: You make it home alive last night?
Lora: Yes, unfortunately.
Me: Oh, must be so hard waking up in that huge house.
Lora: Do you have any clue how far I have to walk to get to the kitchen so my private French chef can make me breakfast?
Me: I forgot. At least it’s keeping you in shape. Very, very good shape.
Lora: Ha ha. What’s up?
Me: I’m at work, like always. My dad just offered me co-ownership of some car wash, but it’s got all this bureaucratic red tape around it so I think he’s just dumping off an annoying project he doesn’t want to deal with anymore.
Lora: That’s still good, right? Like, you’ll own part of it?
Me: Yeah, sort of, I guess.
Lora: Congrats! Let’s celebrate!
Me: You’ll use any excuse you can to see me again, huh?
Lora: Don’t ruin this.
Me: Fair enough.
Me: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at, like, three.
Lora: Ooh, a Saturday afternoon date? What do you have planned?
Me: You’ll see. I think it’s time to introduce you to life in Loftville.
Lora: I’m intimately familiar with it already.
Me: No, you’re definitely not.
Lora: Should I be worried?
Me: Yes. But you’re going to like it.
I grin and put my phone away.
I’m not going to use Lora or the Lofthouse family to get the permit. I’ll figure out some other way to do that. But I am going to take her out and show her a good time.
And finally take what I’ve wanted for so fucking long.
I don’t know why I held back when I was younger. Maybe I was just stupid, or maybe I just wasn’t ready.
But I’m older and wiser now. I know when I want something, I need to have it, no matter what. That’s the only way to get ahead in this world.
And after seeing Lora last night, I want her.
3
Lora
I’ve never been more nervous or more excited for something in my life. Right at three, I’m outside and down at the end of our stupidly long driveway. I don’t want to make Dean have to ring the bell and talk to Archie, who will inevitably tell my parents that I’m seeing a local boy, and that’s a whole thing.
Better to keep the butler out of the loop.
I lean up against the fence and look at my phone. Two minutes past three, a truck comes rolling up and parks right in front of me.
I frown at the thing. It’s red, rusty, and the engine smells like gasoline. There are mud stains on the tires and two hubcaps are missing. Unless there are just no hubcaps, I can’t tell from my angle. I’m honestly surprised it can even move, let alone move at a normal speed.
The window closest to me rolls down and Dean leans over the passenger seat. “Hey, girl,” he says. “You need a ride?”
I frown. “In that piece of crap? No thanks. I’m waiting for a nice, handsome boy to come get me.”
He laughs. “Well, he’s here, and he’s offended that you don’t love his truck.”
I walk over and tilt my head. “I thought your dad owned a car dealership.”
“Ah, yeah, we do. This is my off-roading truck.”
I frown. “What?”
“Get inside. I’ll explain on the way.”
I hesitate. I think I should turn around and run back inside. I’m a rich girl from a nice family. I don’t go off-roading.
But Dean’s handsome smile and the idea of spending time with him makes me rip open the door and jump inside.
He laughs as I shut the door and the truck lurches forward.
“Seriously, what is this thing?”
“It’s an old Ford,” he says. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Engine’s in good shape. Probably needs new tires, but all in all, she looks worse than she drives.”
“She?”
“Her name is Lucille.”
“Oh, god. You named your beat-up truck.”
“I did indeed. Lucille is a good truck name.”
“How’d you come up with it?”
“BB King’s guitar is named Lucille. This truck is an homage to that guitar.”
I laugh and watch him for a second. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You named your truck after a guitar? It’s just inanimate objects all the way down?”
“Yep, that about sums it up.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” Dean always had a weird little sense of humor that most people didn’t get into, but I loved it from the first time we met. Even his dad jokes are still somehow funny to me.
We drive away from town and pull down a few back roads. “Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“There’s this spot, it’s really good for off-roading,” he says.
“We’re doing… what?”
“We’re driving my truck through mud and dirt.” He grins and hits the gas. The truck lurches forward. “It’s actually a lot of fun.”
I gape at him. “Since when did you get so country?”
“I’ve always been country, girl. You just weren’t looking.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, Dean. We went to the same private prep school.”
“I only went there because your family paid for my tuition.”
“Yeah, but—”
He shakes his head. “No, I get you. I mean, I did have better grades, right?”
“You were a nerd,” I say, smiling. “You just studied all the time.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. We take a right turn off the main road and go down a bumpy dirt path. I’m not sure if we’re off-roading yet or not, but it’s not all that fun, really.
“I had to work harder,” he said. “You know I didn’t belong there.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad is… you know, he’s middle class. Maybe upper middle class now, but not back then.”
“So what? There were plenty of scholarship students.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Exactly,” he says. “You knew who those scholarship kids were, right? Because we were different.”
I’m quiet for a long moment. “I never thought about it before,” I admit.
“I know you didn’t,” he says. “That’s because you never cared about that stuff. You’re one of the good ones, Lora. But not everyone at West was like you.”
“Nobody bullied you though, right?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. I would’ve beaten some douchey prep school ass if they’d tried.”
I laugh. “You weren’t so big and bad back then, you know.”
“I know,” he admits. “But even still. Can you imagine someone like Valtteri Haldeman trying to push me around?”
“Oh, that was the rich guy with the bread family, right?”
“Bread kings of LA, I think he used to say.”
“That’s a terrible example. He was the smallest guy in the world.”
“True, but still.”
I lean back just as the truck hits a bump. I rock in my seat and have to steady myself. He laughs at me. “We’re not even there yet.”
“Wait, what? It gets worse?”
“You mean, it gets more fun?”
“This is terrible.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it.” He turns off the path and the dirt road becomes no more than some tracks in mud as we weave our way through a wooded area. There aren’t any houses or buildings, and I have no clue where we are.
“I’m just saying, you didn’t have it all that bad,” I say.
“You’re totally right, I didn’t. But I was different. So I had to work twice as hard to try and keep up.”
“But you ended up beating everyone.”
He grinned. “That was just a bonus, honestly.”
“Here’s the thing, though. I kept up with some of those rich assholes, and they’re all like me now. Either sitting around at home with their parents doing nothing, or living off their money doing nothing. At least you have something going for you.”
He slows the truck down to a stop and looks at me. “True,” he admits. “Even though I’m working for my father’s company.”
“It’ll be all yours sooner or later.”
“Yeah. Better make it worth something now.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay, are you ready for this?”
“No,” I admit. “I’m really, really not.”
“Good.” He grins. “Seatbelt on?”
“Of course. Why—”
I don’t finish my sentence. He hits the gas hard and the truck jumps forward. I let out a yelp as it slams into some bumps. We rock and roll, and he turns up the music, some jangling country rock tune. We hit mud and he revs the engine, kicking it up all over the place. For a second, I think the truck is stuck, but he manages to rock it free and we jump forward again, hitting more mud, a h
uge puddle of it.
We drive around a short track like that, hitting mud, skidding around. At first it’s terrifying, but soon I learn to love it, and I’m laughing along with him as we hit another huge mud puddle.
After a couple laps, he stops the truck and jumps out, wiping the windshield off. “You wanna try?” he asks.
“Oh, god, no,” I say.
“Ah, come on, you’ll like it.” He cocks his head. “Are you afraid?”
“Dick,” I say, and slide over into the driver’s seat.
He runs around and hops in the passenger side. We buckle our seatbelts and I ease the truck forward.
“Need more speed,” he says. “Hit it hard.”
I hit the gas some more, the truck jumping forward. We hit a mud puddle and I laugh, the mud flying everywhere. I spin the tires and rocket through, hitting another section of the path. I take a couple of laps around the course until the windshield is so thick with mud that we can’t see a thing.
I pull the truck over and we sit back in our seats laughing. He grins at me and shakes his head. “Not bad for your first time,” he says.
“Why, thank you. I know you didn’t realize, but I am very country.”
“Oh, yes, country club, you mean.”
“Good one.” I smile and sigh. “So now what?”
“Now, we sit in the bed and drink beer.”
“But… it’s covered in mud.”
“Yep.” He laughs. “I’ve got towels, don’t worry.”
He hops out, wipes down the windshield, and walks around back. He wipes down the bed and throws down clean towels for us to sit on. He helps me up and we sit there on the bed with our legs dangling down. He hands me a beer and we crack them open.
“Here’s to old friends,” he says.
“Here, here,” I say. We toast and I take a few sips. He takes a deep breath and lets it out.
“Man, it’s nice out here,” he says.
“Yeah? Where are we, anyway?”
“Right on the edge of town. I think your family owns this land, actually.”
“Oh, well, perfect. I give us permission to be here.”
“Thanks.” He grins at me. “Little late for that though.”
“Do people come out here a lot?” I look around. The course looks like it’s been clearly marked and groomed in the past, almost like someone takes care of it.