He gave me one last stabbing look before shoving his way out the door.
Through the circular window, I watched him go, and my heart plunged to my feet. Was he going to walk home?
We weren’t far from our condo, and the weather wasn’t horrid. Let him walk.
Returning to the table, I dropped back onto the bench and picked up my soda. I took a sip, but my throat seemed to have closed up completely. Prying off the lid, I spit the drink back into the cup. I scooped up both hamburgers and squished them into my bag. Then I took the tray and dumped the drinks into the bright orange trash bin.
Outside, I paused a moment to take a huge breath. Overhead three seagulls soared over town. I pulled my cell from my pocket, thumbed across the screen, and stared at Fresh Meat’s number, debating.
Without giving myself time to wimp out, I pressed it and waited as it rang once, twice, three times…
“Yeah?”
“This is Tiffany.”
“Hi.”
“Where are you?”
“On my way home.”
“How about a detour?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“The Hang.”
A low chuckle came over the line. “You going to risk it, going there with me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Right. Say what you want.”
My free hand fisted in my sleeve at his smug humor. I wasn’t sure why, but I was annoyed.
“Tiffany, you still there?”
“Still here.”
“And now you’re mad?”
I was mad — which was much better than whatever I’d felt watching Denny walk out on me.
I laughed with relief.
Fresh Meat joined in. “Okay, not too mad then.”
“But I am,” I said.
“You’re one weird girl, Tiffany Phillips.”
“You complaining?”
“Not sure. Maybe.”
I blew out my breath. “You going to be at The Hang or not?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Fine,” I said and hung up.
I got in the car and drove to the boardwalk parking lot. Once there, I trudged through the half-wet sand, picking up speed as I went along. A stirring of excitement crawled through me, which was so unexpected I didn’t know what to think. How could I be feeling excitement with the mess waiting for me back at the condo?
Denny wasn’t an angry-type person. People not speaking to me wasn’t unusual, but Denny? He always spoke to me. My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and answered it before looking at the screen.
“Denny?” My voice was pathetically eager. Wind blowing from the west made a hollow whistling sound around the phone, so I pressed it closer.
“It’s Courtney.”
I yanked the phone from my ear and stared at the screen. Crap.
“Yeah?”
“Just checking in. How’s it going?” Had Denny called her? Tattled on me?
“Fine. Everything’s fine.”
“How’s Denny doing? And isn’t he there with you? Why’d you say his name? I was going to call him, but I wanted to ask you how he was first.”
“Don’t know why I said his name. And you don’t need to call him. He’s busy with homework.” My mind spun. “He’s doing great.”
Careful, you’re overdoing it. Courtney’s a lot of things, but she’s not dumb.
“He’s great?” Courtney asked. She paused. “I still want to talk to him.”
“Sure, but maybe wait a little till he’s done working.”
Another pause. Then, “Since when are you so concerned about his homework?”
“Geez, Courtney, give me a break. I’ve been practically raising him since you went off to university.”
She exhaled loudly. “You’re right. Sorry. How’s Dad?”
Focus changed. Mission accomplished.
“Fine.” There was no need to tell her he’d left. And no reason to tell her why. She’d find out soon enough.
“I’m glad it’s working out. You still angry at me?”
“I’m always angry at you.” I attempted a light laugh. It didn’t work.
“You understand why Dad had to come, though, right?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a whooshing sound. Where are you? Aren’t you at home?”
“I stepped out on the porch for a minute. I’m going back in now.”
“You’re not smoking are you?”
“Courtney, shut up while you’re ahead.”
“Yeah, right. Sorry. But don’t smoke, okay?”
“You done?”
“I’m calling Denny later. Or have him call me when he’s finished, okay?”
“Sure.”
We hung up. I sat on a chunk of twisted driftwood and stared at the incoming tide. Sprays of water lifted off the crashing waves like fireworks, fizzling as they rushed across the sand.
I needed to get home before Denny spilled about everything. If I could convince him we were better off without Dad, he might go along with the lie. At least for a while.
I stood and rubbed bits of wet sand from my backside. The Hang was still a ways down the beach. If I took the time to go there, Courtney might call Denny before I got home. Then she’d find out what was going on and rush back, and I’d be stuck with her for the next week. Or forever.
Crap.
I stared in the direction of The Hang. Fresh Meat would be waiting.
I started running then, kicking up splats of sand bullets behind me. The grove of evergreens grew closer as I sped ahead. I ducked under the branches and felt their wet scratchiness brush my face.
And there he was, waiting. He broke into a grin and tilted his head to the side when he saw me.
“I can’t stay,” I said in a gush.
“Wh—“
“Shhh.” I went right up to him and plastered myself against him for a quick delicious moment. I felt his body stiffen, then his arms went around me and he held me close. I tipped my face up to his and kissed him hard. Then I broke from his embrace and ran back out from the circle of trees.
“Tiffany!” he called behind me. I kept going, dashing over the low dunes, almost slipping in the sand, feeling the cold air slam my face, and hearing the rumble of waves to my right.
****
I pulled into our parking space with a squeal. Now the neighbors would complain again. They always accused me of reckless driving. Mom would nod at their complaints all serious-like. Afterwards, she’d yell at me and then be exhausted and topple onto the couch to sleep the whole evening.
Since she was dead, who’d yell at me now?
I steeled myself, stuffed the thought back into my mind, and hurried to the condo door. It was locked. I fumbled with the key and burst inside.
Denny and Dad were sitting at the table eating a roasted chicken. My mouth dropped open. Denny leveled me a look of half-guilt, half-smugness. Nervous rebellion was written all over Dad’s face.
“Dad! What are you doing still here?” My words jabbed across the room. I threw my bag onto the floor and marched over to the table. “I told you to get lost.”
Dad stretched his neck up like a razor clam. He blinked rapidly and said, “I heard you, but I’m not going.”
“He’s not going,” Denny repeated.
The table had been set for three, and a glassful of milk sat at my spot.
“Yes, Denny, he is going,” I said.
Dad stood, and his chair scooted back with a screech. “I know I made a mistake, but I’m not leaving.”
“That’s the problem. Too many mistakes. A lifetime of mistakes.” Every muscle in my face was screwed tight. If he wanted a fight, he’d get one.
Denny jumped up. His face was flushed, and his eyes had gone hard. “Everything’s not up to you, Tiffany. I want him to stay.”
“But we’re fine by ourselves.”
“No, we’re not!”
“Better than having a drunk here.”
“I’m not a drunk,” Dad said. He put his hand on Denny’s shoulder.
I glared at them both. “Yes, you are! You were a drunk in Chicago, and you’re a drunk here.”
“I wasn’t a drunk in Chicago.” His voice took on a whine. “You never stopped long enough to notice. You hated me then. You hate me now.”
“Shut up! I’m talking to Denny.”
Denny stepped forward. “No, you’re not. You’re not even talking. You’re screaming.”
Denny’s breath came fast. I could see he was nervous, but he didn’t waver. He loomed taller somehow.
My stomach seized up. Since when did Denny stand up to me? Since when did he stand up to anyone?
“Denny.” My voice fell to a low murmur. “Can I talk to you upstairs, please?”
Denny glanced quickly at Dad then back at me. “No. We can talk here.”
“Please, Denny.”
Dad nodded and pushed on his shoulder, urging him forward. My stomach dropped to my feet. Was Dad calling the shots now?
Denny snorted and shoved past me and up the stairs. I followed him into his room.
“I want Dad here,” he said, facing me with fisted hands on his hips.
“I know you do.” I gritted my teeth, forcing my voice to stay neutral. “Sit down with me.” I sat and patted the bedspread.
He exhaled, and his features softened. He sat.
“Please, Tiff. He said he was sorry, and he won’t ever drink again. He promised.”
I looked into his hopeful eyes, and my heart lurched. Silently, I again cursed Mom for dying. Everything was a mess — seriously screwed up.
All I wanted to do was run. I could start a new life in California — could hitch a ride. It was warm down there. If necessary, I could live on the streets.
Denny dropped his head on my shoulder. I stiffened. His breathing slowed, and he relaxed into me. I put my arm around his shoulders.
“Courtney wants him here, too.” His voice was quiet.
“I know.” I eyed his cell sitting on the bed stand. Had Courtney called him yet? I guessed it didn’t matter now. Dad hadn’t left.
Denny raised his head and looked at me with teary eyes. “Mom’s gone. Can’t I have my dad?”
My breath froze in my throat. I swallowed hard and shook my head. “It’s not that easy, Denny.”
He scooted back a few inches and regarded me. “Yeah, it is. He’s here now. Can’t he stay? We should give him another chance. He told me he likes it here. He likes being with us. He wants to make up for all those years he was gone.”
“And you believe him?”
He winced and his brows crinkled into a frown. “Well, yeah. He had tears in his eyes and everything.”
I could almost smell Denny’s broken heart. It hovered over us like smog on a cloudy day.
“Okay, Denny. You win. We’ll give him another chance.”
Denny leapt from the bed and rushed to the door. He swiveled around and smiled. “Thanks, Tiffany. Thanks a lot.” He jolted from the room.
His cell rang, vibrating against the shiny wood surface where he’d left it on his bed stand. I looked at the screen. Courtney.
I let it go to voicemail. Downstairs, the TV came on. Canned laughter filled the condo, climbing the stairs. Emptiness a mile wide stretched inside me.
If Dad was staying, then Denny didn’t need me. I could leave — run away to California. Maybe my idea wasn’t so dumb after all. I was sick of Ocean Mist anyway. Sick of Courtney. Sick of the rain. Sick of trying to be what everyone wanted me to be.
The idea of escape rolled around in my brain, gaining speed. It would take a few days to hitch down there. Once there, I could find a place to crash — maybe under some palm tree or on some expanse of beach. I was sixteen, so I could get a job. Work at a hotel or something. Then I could sneak into the empty rooms at night to sleep. No one would ever know.
My new life turned to living color in my mind. It could work. I knew it could.
“Tiffany!” Denny yelled up the stairs, tugging me from my dream. “Wanna come down and watch TV with Dad and me?”
I stood and went to the head of the steps. “No,” I hollered.
I went to my closet of a room, waded through the mess of clothes and crusty dishes scattered across the floor, and sank onto my bed. I’d pack tomorrow.
California should be real nice this time of year.
Chapter Eleven
The phone blasted in my ear and woke me up. I was lying in total darkness on my bed, fully clothed. It was freezing.
I grabbed my phone. “Hello? Who’s this?” My voice was slurred.
What time was it?
“It’s Jason.”
I struggled to sit upright and glanced at the clock. One-thirty.
“What’s wrong?” My voice was thick.
“Nothing. Did I wake you?” he half-whispered.
“Uh, yeah. It’s the middle of the night. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
“You want to meet me somewhere?”
Instant alert. “What? Now?”
“Yeah. You busy?”
I laughed. “Only sleeping. What d’you have in mind?”
“Not sure. Could we meet at The Hang?”
“You going to tell me what this is all about?”
“It’s not about anything.”
I shrugged and rolled my head, trying to get the kink out of my neck. I took a breath. “You always meet people in the middle of the night?”
“No.”
“Okay, The Hang. See ya.” I hung up and slid off the bed, going to the window. The puddles of yellow from the street lights spotted the road like lily pads. The neighbors across the street must’ve been up because every light in their house blazed. Someone’s dark cat crept down the sidewalk in front of our condo like it was on a Sunday stroll.
I shivered and found a wadded-up hoodie on my desk chair. I pulled it over my head and flipped on my desk lamp to peer into the mirror. I licked my fingertips and attempted to pat down the clumps of hair that stuck out around my head like I’d been electrocuted. My eyeliner had smudged into black circles under each eye. I rubbed at them, but it didn’t help. It was dark anyway, so chances were Fresh Meat wasn’t going to notice my raccoon eyes.
I slipped out of my room and tiptoed down the hallway. Leaning heavily into the banister to avoid noise, I inched down the stairs. It was even colder down there — my hoodie would never be enough outside. No one had closed the curtains, so light from the parking lot crawled into the room, turning the furniture into a shadowy museum. I glanced around and saw Denny’s coat thrown over the back of the recliner. I grabbed it and put it on. The sleeves were too short, but it was plenty big enough.
I snatched the spare set of keys hanging by the door and sneaked outside into the biting air. No one was around. Even the cat had disappeared. I started off down the street, passing houses whose black windows reflected shimmery moon shadows. Even with Denny’s coat on, it was cold. I pulled the collar up around my chin, holding it against the wind.
On Main Street, most businesses had at least one lone bulb shining inside. To scare off robbers, I guessed. My footsteps echoed down the empty street. I sped up. Once I hit the sand, the darkness increased. Distorted glimmers of light played over the water. The tide was calm, like the ocean itself had gone to bed.
I knew my way well, but I didn’t go fast, aware that new chunks of driftwood could be anywhere. When I got closer to The Hang, I saw a flicker of yellow inside the trees.
Fresh Meat’s silhouette loomed in the entrance. He was holding the lantern high, probing the darkness, looking for me. My heart jolted.
“Tiffany!” There was no mistaking the excitement in his voice.
He stepped aside to let me enter. “Sorry.”
“What for?” I asked, plunging into The Hang where the scent of fir trees was thick in the stillness.
“I should ha
ve come for you.”
“I can take care of myself.” My voice came out too harsh. I attempted a laugh to cover it up.
“Never doubted that,” he said, hanging the lantern back on the branch where we kept it.
“It’s freezing.”
His eyes traveled up and down my body. Pulling myself taller, I forced my breathing to slow down and ignored the warmth spreading through my stomach.
“Whose coat?”
“Denny’s.”
He nodded, and his gaze raked over me again.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
He moved to me, taking my shoulders in his large hands. His sudden nearness made my legs go soft, and something intense flared around my heart. A bubble of panic started to rise. He was too close. Too warm. I wiggled from his grasp and paced around the soft pine needles.
“Tiffany.”
Something in his voice stopped me, and I turned to look at him.
“Come here.”
The bubble of panic burst into nothingness, and I went. Just like that. I walked into his arms and lost myself in him. His kissed me, at first soft and tender and then with more force. I kissed him back, exploring his taste, his scent. I wanted more of him. I wanted to disappear into him. We clung to each other, swaying slightly to the barely heard rhythm of the waves. His heartbeat pounded against my ear, and he tightened his embrace.
What was I doing? This was too much. Way too much. If I wasn’t careful, he might break through. He might know me.
I pulled away. “What are you doing?”
“What d’you mean?” His voice was low, confused.
I tugged Denny’s coat down over my hips. “What are we doing here anyway?” My heavy tone slapped through the air.
He stared at me for a long minute. I stared back, my lips tight, my face wiped clean of expression. He blinked and reached out toward me, paused, then dropped his hands to his side. He walked over to the base of a tree and dug into his backpack. He pulled out two beers. “Want one?”
“I don’t like beer.”
“But you drink it.” He handed me a cold bottle.
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t.”
With a loud sigh, he sat and leaned against a tree. I stood looking down at him, uncertain what to do. Before I could think too hard, I sank down beside him.
The Return: Death, Runaways, and Romance (Ocean Mist Book 3) Page 12