by Leslie Pike
She continues walking but looks over a shoulder at me. “Because I might not feel like it.”
I take the hint and shut up. Funny, but I heard her mother’s strength in her statement.
“Wanna go fast?” I say.
A smile breaks out on her pretty face. “Yeah! Do it!”
I put the pedal to the metal and the ferocious Ferrari sound punctuates the quiet of the road leading toward the Midas Estate. Mallory’s hands grip the seat and she squeals with delight as I take the straightaways between curves.
“Fun, huh?” I say returning to a normal speed. “It won’t be long and you’ll be driving. Three years goes by pretty fast.”
“One year, eleven months, three weeks,” she corrects me.
“Your birthday’s next week?”
“Yep.”
“How shall we celebrate? Your mom planning a party?”
Her face scrunches up in disgust. “Better not be. I hate parties for me.”
“What? Come on! At the very least we should do something fun. What about having Paige join us for dinner and whatever else you girls would like to do? A movie? Concert?”
“I’ll think about it.”
I know when to stop. Mallory’s not one to be pressed into doing anything she doesn’t want to. I’ll talk it over with Charlotte.
“So, you’re looking forward to driving, huh?”
“Mom says as soon as I get my first job she’s gonna match whatever I save so I can eventually buy a car.”
“Got one in mind?” I say taking the final turn leading to our destination.
There’s a lightness as she tells me her plans. “My dream car is a new Mustang. I love the look of them and they have a good rating. But that’s just fantasy. I’ll probably get something older, but with decent mileage. I’m thinking maybe a KIA.”
“That’d be good. I remember the first time I drove away from my parents’ house the day I got my license. It was an awesome feeling of freedom.”
“Holy shit!” She covers her mouth with her hands, embarrassed she swore in front of me. “Opps. Sorry. But look at this place!”
My eyes follow her pointed finger. It’s not at all what I expected, this over-the-top version of a Southern mansion complete with too many towering columns and a goofy looking Midas statue in the center of a massive fountain. “Holy shit’s right,” I say, agreeing with Mallory’s assessment. We both start laughing.
I turn the car onto the circular driveway and take our place in line for the valet.
“But look, Atticus! Isn’t that beautiful?” We watch a uniformed kid get in and pull away in a light blue ’67 pristine Mustang. Its owner is watching his baby being handled by a bored looking sixteen-year-old. Mallory’s lifting in her seat for a better look.
“Oh man. That’s nice,” I say.
“Okay that’s my new dream car.”
“That’s over half a century old. Classic. You’ve got great taste, girl.”
A little smile accepts my compliment. That’s a first.
“Hey, maybe today you can do me a favor,” she says.
“Anything.”
“Just take a look every so often. Make sure I’m not standing alone somewhere. It gets embarrassing.”
My heart breaks a little with her request. “You and me Mallory, we’re here together. Don’t worry about that at all. I’ve got your back.”
“Okay. But if I’m having fun with Paige, you don’t have to watch every minute.”
“Got it.”
There’s rules to follow with a teenager. Her insecurities remind me what it was like, even though I lived such a different kind of childhood.
“Maybe we can have a secret word. Mom and I do that sometimes. If I say it, we can leave.”
Her head dips a bit as her voice trails off. Man, that took balls for her to say, but I feel happy to know she’s letting her guard down with me. I could kill the assholes that’ve hurt her.
“Sounds like a plan. I might want to say it too. What should our word be?”
She thinks for a moment then a grin. “How about zoze?”
“The backyard’s as bad as the front,” I whisper walking out to the gaudy scene.
“It’s so bad I can’t look away,” she says.
This mess must have cost millions. Lots of poorly made statues, and all that amid a tropical setting of fake palm trees. The only redeeming feature is the resort-sized pool. I see a lazy river running around the perimeter and an awesome water slide. Five waterfalls can be seen from our angle alone.
“Hey, you two!” Brick’s voice comes from behind us and as I turn he hands me a tropical drink topped with a blue umbrella sticking out of a piece of pineapple. Charlotte gets one with a pink umbrella.
“Hi. What the hell’s this?” I say looking at the girly concoction.
He leans in and lowers his voice. “Just drink it. I had the bartender leave out the cherry rum. It’s Mr. Midas’s special mixture. Tastes like shit. Excuse my language, Mallory.”
“I don’t mind. Oh! There’s Paige. I’m gonna go see her.”
She takes off for the far end of the pool where her friend sits, legs in the water.
“You haven’t met the Midas son yet, or the wife. You’re in for a real treat,” Brick says.
“That bad?”
“The teenage boy’s an entitled ass wipe, and the wife’s a horny Spaniard about a hundred years younger than Midas.”
“Sounds like a great afternoon,” I say with a straight face.
“For fifteen million think you can pretend to have a good time?”
“I’m not sure,” I tease. “Let’s see, your ten percent buys them Party Brick, right?”
“Oh yeah.”
We smile at each other like we did when we were kids and had gotten away with something.
“Here come Barbie Barcelona and the son,” Brick says waving them over.
Before I can greet her, she calls to me. “Atticus! It’s so good to finally meet you!”
Arms encircle me and hold tight. The overwhelming scent of roses rises from her. I’m getting boob crushed. She leans in to my ear and whispers, “Aren’t you a sexy one.”
With absolutely no subtlety she attempts a different kind of connection beyond my business with her husband. But Brick has schooled me well over the last five years. You handle things quickly. Think of the big picture, don’t shit where you eat and avoid wives, girlfriends and daughters of anyone you do business with, letting them down with a “I can’t mix business with pleasure” line.
I do the next best thing. I ignore her and turn my attention to the boy.
“Hi. I’m Atticus. I didn’t get your name.” My hand extends and is quickly met with his.
“Hi! I’m Jeffrey. I’m a big fan. My friends and I go to every Maverick home game. Will you be back playing soon?”
Okay, I can work with this. It’ll be a good distraction from his mother.
“Thanks, man. I’ll be back by next month.”
“Great! Hey, can I introduce you to a few of my friends?”
“Jeffrey, don’t bother Mr. Swift, he…”
The expression on the kid’s face changes and his voice rises to an angry pitch. “Quit embarrassing me, Mom! I’m talking!”
Shit. Brick and I look at each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But instead she pretends nothing unusual just happened. Maybe she’s used to being talked down to by the Midas men. They’re both short shits who like to boss women around. Little Jeffrey sounds like his father talking to his secretary the first time I met him. They’re both assholes.
“Alright, don’t get upset.” She looks at us and adds one more word. “Teenagers.”
Jeffrey the jerk-off shoots his mother a disgusted look, quieting any further comment.
“Maybe you’d like to come to one of our practices. Bring your friends,” I say trying to get past the awkward scene.
“Great idea,” Brick adds.
Now the kid’s the picture of
happiness. “Oh man, yes! Thank you!”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Mr. Midas approaching, wearing his nut hugger banana sling. I haven’t seen a tan like this since my parents’ home movies of 1960 summers. He looks like he’s made of leather with a thick sheen of lube on top, just so he doesn’t crack. Eighty never looked so fucked up.
“Mr. Swift!” he says, slapping me on the arm.
The top of his head lines up with my bicep, but his black toupee with grey strands hanging out the edges adds another three inches. I’m standing holding this fucking prissy drink with a big smile on my face like I just saw my long lost best friend.
“Midas! Looking good, my friend.”
I extend my hand for a shake. No such luck. He throws his arms around me and brings me in for a hug. Son of a bitch. As we step back he looks at the front of my light-blue shirt and laughs.
“Oh sorry! I got a bit of oil on you.”
I look like an oil slick floated by me. I’m not gonna tell him it’s a Prada shirt he just ruined, cause I see Brick giving me the silent message to shut the fuck up.
“What’s a little oil between friends?” I say.
My brother’s shoulders relax and everybody’s happy. Midas turns to his son.
“Go play with your girlfriends.” He gestures to where Mallory and Paige are sitting by the pool. “We’ve got business to discuss.”
The kid snorts out his disgust. “Those most definitely are not my girlfriends.”
You little piss ant. You should be so lucky.
“Whatever. Go!” the father orders the son.
“They’re with me,” I say locking eyes with the boy. I hope he can read by my expression what a tool I think he is.
Immediately his expression and tone changes. “Oh! I’ll go say hello and introduce myself.”
And off he slithers. I’m pissed. Brick’s the only one who figures it out. Mom and dad Midas are unaware of the deficiencies in their son’s character.
“Let’s go have a cigar and another Midas Mule. Mommy, will you go grab my phone? Thanks.”
Holy hell, he calls his wife Mommy. I may puke.
Here she comes. Checking my watch, I calculate how long I’ve been sitting here waiting. My fault, because I was the one who said, Take your time Mallory. I’ll be making a few calls from the car.
The passenger door opens, and she slides in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a happy look on her face. She leans her head out and calls to Paige who stands amidst a group of kids, Jeffrey and his friends among them. “Call me as soon as you get home!” She waves a goodbye to the group.
Pulling away from the house, I watch Mallory position herself to see the boys in the outside mirror.
“What’re you smiling about?” I say. As if I didn’t know.
I get a sly grin for an answer.
“Oh really? Which one?”
“What? I didn’t say anything about anybody.”
But she knows that I know. I’m just hoping I’m wrong about which boy. Holding back a telling smile, she presses her lips together just like her mother does.
“I think that Jeffrey guy’s cute. He’s nice. He practically talked about you the whole time we were at the table. I could tell he was impressed that I knew you.”
“Hmmm.”
“What? Don’t you like him?”
She’s innocent. It could hurt her.
“I just met him today. But I didn’t like how he talked to his parents,” I say.
She stays quiet for a few beats.
“Do I sound like an old fart?”
I get a giggle for my effort. “A little.”
“Well, it’s only because I’m looking out for you.”
“Thanks, but I can look out for myself. Anyway, we were just talking.”
Her face turns toward the window. I take the hint and change the subject. “Did you talk with Paige about us doing something for your birthday?”
“A little. I don’t know, maybe we just want to do something by ourselves.”
She’s looking away when she says it, but I don’t want her to think I’m insulted. I would have done the same thing when I turned fourteen. In fact, I probably did. Who needs the adults hanging around?
“Sure. Whatever you guys want. I want to buy you a gift you’d really like. Is there somewhere you’re thinking about going? I mean, I don’t know where kids your age hang out. Fill me in.”
Now I’ve got her attention. Turning toward me, she becomes animated. “Well actually, we were talking about having a party.”
“You and Paige?”
“Kinda.”
In kid-speak, “kinda” means not really. I know because I was the master of deception when I was a teenager.
“Now, tell me the real plans,” I say laughing.
She chuckles. “Maybe Jeffrey’s gonna throw a party for me. He’s got lots of friends.”
I’m not sure how to react, what my response should be. But I know there’s about ten reasons this is a bad idea.
“You’d have to talk that over with your mom. I mean, you don’t really know this guy very well. Will there be parents there?”
I can’t tell her I smell ulterior motives and they involve me.
“But you can help me plead my case. You know his family,” she says innocently.
“No, I don’t. I’m doing a business deal with his father. They could all be serial killers. And besides, how old is he? And are you allowed to date?”
A long sigh escapes her lips and her frustration along with it. “Never mind. I’ll do my own talking.”
“Hey, come on. Cut me some slack. How about this. I’ll tell your mom all that I know. Let her make the decision.”
“Yeah. It was never your decision to make anyway. I just wanted someone else in my corner.”
“Well that’s not fair. Now you went and told the truth,” I kid.
But I broke her sour mood and her pissed expression. She giggles and hides her smile.
“We’re friends now, Mallory. I’ll always be in your corner. But I’m also gonna watch out for you. If I think you’re in trouble or can be hurt, I’ll do what a good friend would.”
“Just don’t try to father me,” she says softly.
That was a surprise.
“I promise I won’t. I’m not looking to be your father. But the best of what a father gives is protectiveness and understanding. That wouldn’t be too bad of an offer, would it?”
“I guess not.” She digs in her purse and pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna call Mom.”
“Good. Tell her we’ll be there in fifteen and I expect dinner to be on the table. Tell her I said chop, chop.”
I start laughing and so does Mallory. “I’d advise against it unless you like being locked out of the apartment.”
“Mom, can I get on Twitter and Facebook? You said I could when I get in high school.”
We’re cleaning up after dinner and the comment stops Charlotte in her tracks.
“I don’t know. School hasn’t started yet, and I want to do a little investigating beforehand.”
“Come on! I’m the only one who doesn’t have a Facebook or Twitter account. And I want to Instagram too.”
I’m watching as mother and daughter spar. Mallory catches my eye and without a word pleads with me to jump in. Maybe this would be a good time to prove my allegiance without pissing off Charlotte.
“Can I weigh in?”
They both focus their attention on me. Charlotte nods.
“I could help her if you want.”
“Yes!” Mallory pleads.
“It probably would be good to have a few months practice before she gets to high school. She’s gonna have a lot of friend requests and she’ll know what to do. I’ve got over three million followers on Instagram and more on Twitter.”
“What? That’s insane!” says Charlotte.
“That would be great! Please, please, please, Mom! Atticus will teach me.”
Charlotte looks a
t me and I read the message behind her eyes. She wants me to be careful. She nods her head as she lifts a plate to the cupboard. “Alright. But be sure you follow his rules and mine, Mallory. No accepting friend requests from people you don’t know. And if I see you’ve abused it the accounts will come down.”
“Of course, Mom. And thank you, Atticus.”
Mission accomplished.
8
Charlotte
A crisp breeze enters through open doors leading to the runway where the Mavericks jet sits. It’s a chilly morning for August. Or maybe my world’s just colder because Atticus will be gone soon. Three days and nights in Georgia sounds like an eternity.
“Is it absolutely necessary you leave me?” I say, standing on tiptoes to kiss his nose and cheeks.
Leaning in, he whispers, “Believe me, I don’t want to.”
“Get a room!” a short stocky player calls as he passes. His teammate laughs.
“Ignore them,” Atticus says.
Lifting my chin in his hand, he gives me a tender kiss. My vow to never lose my heart to Atticus Swift flew away with the birds that night in the forest, never to be heard from again. I’ve fallen harder than I knew possible. And the feeling. I’m addicted to what just thinking of him does to me.
“When I get back we’re gonna talk,” he says kissing my hand. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
My eyes lift to his and without another word I feel something powerful pass between us. I nod my agreement, afraid questions would make the moment pass too quickly.
“One more. Just to hold you till I get back,” he says, kissing me again.
“And another so you’ll remember I’m waiting.” I return the gift.
Then he looks into my eyes and lays his hand on my heart. “Mine,” he says.
“Yours,” I whisper.
“Let’s go, Swift. Morning, Charlotte,” Coach says walking past us and out the doors.
I met the man once and he remembered my name.
“Morning, Coach,” I say without turning from Atticus’s face.
“I’ll call you tonight.”
It takes a few moments for us to completely let go, fingertips holding on till the last second.