by Tina Ferraro
That’s when a porch light flicked on.
My heart clenched. I threw a look at Adam to see his eyes go wide. Even though we were technically reversing an act of property vandalism, we looked totally guilty, and our gut reactions seemed to be the same: Run!
He grabbed Tux by the shoulders. I got hold of the feet. And we took off.
“Who’s there?” bellowed a male voice, one I knew all too well from the hallways and the intercom system.
More light cut through the darkness. A bumping beam, and getting closer. Like a high-end flashlight.
Ignoring the sudden stitch in my side, I kept up with Adam’s frantic pace, down the grassy slope, into the driveway, and then in front of the hood of the idling car. My heart pounding all over my body, I managed to still myself long enough for him to round the open door.
“Stop!” the voice behind us demanded in a veteran principal tone.
O.M.G., we had been thisclose.
I dove butt-first inside the car, still holding Tux’s feet, figuring I’d plop them in my dad’s lap for the ride. Adam and I could keep holding Tux’s shoulders, and if the head had to stick out the window, well, so be it.
“Halt, you two!”
Adam followed me in—tight—still guiding Tux’s top half. Then arcing Tux’s head at the ceiling the way I’d done in my VW, he slammed the door behind him.
Tux’s feet slid down to my dad’s lap. Not for long. For that’s when my father turned to see Principal Hioki at the driver’s door, his dark eyes squinting with rage. Whether it was a man thing, a dad thing or just a total dumb-ass thing, he drew an inhale and got out of the car.
And even though his absence created much-needed space and lightened the load of the mannequin, every muscle in my body heaved with disappointment. Especially my tear ducts, which suddenly had the urge to expel whatever waterworks it had been holding.
I turned to Adam, whose own eyes looked dark and urgent. “We’re dead.”
“Maybe not. All we really did was trespass.”
“On the principal’s property. That’s probably some kind of felony.”
He scrunched his face. “Your dad will explain.”
Yeah. I probably should chill. Because while my dad was definitely lacking in the communicate-with-his-kid department, the fact he maintained a successful practice meant he had some business and negotiation skills. Besides, he certainly hadn’t dumped on me tonight.
I released a long sigh. “I just want this over. And this guy back in the shop where he belongs,” I added, tapping the row of buttons on the suit jacket. “So I can keep working in the shop, where I belong.”
Almost immediately, my goof hit me: I’d personified Tux again. Instead of going there and/or teasing me, Adam did the last thing I expected. He stretched out an arm, draped it across my shoulders and squeezed me tight.
While I knew this was nothing but a friendly gesture, right now, I loved that he cared. Even just a little bit. Even in the not-so-right way. And I tried to shrink from the screaming irony that while I’d gone to Tux tonight for comfort over Adam, I was now being comforted by Adam about Tux.
I rested my head against his shoulder, closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. And capturing—even owning—this unexpectedly sweet moment.
That’s when the driver’s door snapped open and dome light assaulted my face. I opened my eyes to see my father in the doorway. Alone. His face a stony stillness. “You’re off the hook.”
Relief washed through me. “Oh, thank you.”
“Yes, thanks very much, Mr. Walsh.”
“Off the hook for now. He wants to see both of you in his office first thing on Monday.” His gaze pierced mine. “At least I kept you from getting arrested.”
I must have looked appropriately ashamed because my dad’s gaze moved to his bucket seat. Which was of course occupied by mannequin legs and shoes. I used both hands to lift them up and away.
Kinda hard. Kinda fast.
With Adam’s arm still around me and not fortifying his hold, Tux’s face flew up like the light end of a teeter-totter.
That’s when we heard the crash.
The smash. The shatter.
And then my gasp. As the mannequin landed back down—a jagged, glaring hole where the nose had been.
Chapter 20
I’d killed Tux.
At least, as my dad zoomed us off into the night, that’s how it felt.
What I’d really killed was my last chance of keeping Phillip under the impression that I was a trustworthy employee.
Adam must have tapped into my thoughts because he pointed at the mannequin in our laps and sighed. “Hey, maybe you could angle a hat down low and your boss would never know.”
I felt the corners of my mouth twitch. While I was sure that would be a Band-Aid at best, bless him for envisioning an ending to this catastrophe other than me getting my butt kicked to the curb. Or wearing an orange jumpsuit. It was moments like this when I understood how he’d made it to the surfing championships. He was the type of competitor who did not back down.
I glanced his way just as his gaze was sliding at me. And although we’d looked into each other’s eyes hundreds of times—maybe thousands—somehow, in some way, this time felt different. As if we were being drawn to each other instead of merely connecting. Almost as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of us...
Wow. I was tired. Really, really tired. And maybe a little bit crazy, too. Going from imagining a factory-made object was my boyfriend to thinking Adam “I Only Want to Be Friends” Hartnett was after my heart.
I ripped my gaze away, and deep down somewhere, it almost hurt. “That’s a nice try, Adam, but I think I’m better off telling Phillip the truth.”
My dad jumped in with a clear of his throat. “Speaking of, you never did tell me why you took the mannequin to the beach tonight.”
Because, Dad, you hadn’t asked.
That answer was easy-peasy. “I realized I’d dropped my phone by the bonfire, and that once the sun came up, somebody would likely see it and steal it.”
Adam let out a half-laugh. “You stole something to keep someone from stealing from you?”
I went to correct him—I’d borrowed, not stolen—but I was pretty sure he knew that. Besides, my dad was pulling up in front of Adam’s apartment building, making this conversation essentially over.
Or so I thought.
“What I still don’t get,” my father aimed at me, “is why you went to the shop tonight at all. After the bonfire. Not just to get the mannequin, right?”
Okay. This was awkward.
My breath jammed in my throat, along with a whole bunch of sentences that all started with the name “Adam.”
Worse? I could feel his body go rigid beside mine.
Making me wonder: did he know I’d gone because of him? Wait, how could he? (Or how could he not?) In any case, this had the makings of the single most embarrassing moment of my life.
Since staying mute until I died wasn’t a real option, I tucked some hair behind my ear and went for broke. “Well, Adam had driven me back to my car at school—”
“And we talked again about me renting a tux from your shop,” Adam leaped in. “For the dance tomorrow.”
My gaze shot back to him. Liar, liar, pants on fire!
All I could think was that he did not want my father knowing what had happened in the station wagon. Since it was a one-time mistake, of course, and we were all bound together by the dental practice. And while I got him wanting to keep private things private, I wasn’t sure how I felt about covering up truths right now to my dad.
Still, after all Adam had done for me tonight, I figured I owed him this much. “You went to make sure you still had one in my size, right, Courtney?”
“Uh-huh,” I said, my voice straining.
My dad’s immobile brow told me he’d bought our story. He didn’t know each Tux Everlasting tuxedo was special-ordered, nor did I figure he could read into the
knowing look that passed between Adam and me. The one that said this conversation was to be continued...
Meaning I’d have to continue putting aside my resolution to never to speak to Adam again. Which was probably fair, after all he’d done for me tonight.
Besides, it’s not like I was going to be real busy. My dance date was likely off, and my friends’ first reactions to that news were hardly going to be a swarm of love and attention. My starter romance had skidded to a stop, and my beloved job was surely a thing of the past. Who was I to cold-shoulder one of the few people left who wanted to talk to me?
My father pulled up in front of Adam’s building.
Adam shuffled out from under the mannequin, then turned to lift a hand in a playful salute to my dad. “Goodnight, Sir.”
“My thanks, Adam,” my dad replied. “We never would have gotten it back without you.”
Parting my lips to second that, I was thunderstruck by the sudden sight of Adam reaching in and patting the top of Tux’s head. Gently, like he might do when saying so-long to the family dog.
While part of me expected him to shatter the moment with a joke about Tux needing a nose job or resting in peace, instead his voice got real low, both in tone and volume. “Later, Dude.”
Then he threw me a sad look and walked off.
Leaving me with my mouth hanging open, and way more Adam confusion. The good kind.
* * *
Since there was no reason to head to the shop, my dad drove us straight home. He grabbed Tux’s feet and I took hold of the shoulders, and we carried him up into the townhouse for safekeeping, ultimately balancing him upright in the living room. It gave me a chance to give the tuxedo a look-over, and I was relieved to find it no worse for the wear than some wrinkles and dirt patches.
At least we had that.
When my dad wandered toward the kitchen, I whispered a little “Sorry, it’s been fun,” to Tux, just to make our break-up official to the cosmos. Especially since I was likely to never see him again.
Up in my room, I didn’t even bother to wipe off my eye make-up. I simply fell face-first onto my bed, so overwhelmed by my feelings that I could oddly feel almost nothing. I might have laid there forever, eyes closed in my own empty world, had my dad’s voice not penetrated my consciousness from the open doorway.
“You okay, Courtney?”
I rolled over, realizing belatedly there were some words left to be said to him, too. “Yes, thanks.” I sat up. “And thank you for helping me tonight. For listening to me and driving me and standing by me...”
“Of course.”
“And for not freaking out,” I added, then felt my throat go moist. “That I’ve turned out to be such a—a disappointment.”
“Courtney, no!” He steadied himself by grabbing the doorjamb. “I mean, I know tonight got out of hand, but this is once in seventeen years, right? And I’m just glad you came to me.”
I was, too.
“Jennifer keeps telling me I need to be around more for you more. You’re on top of everything, handle it all so beautifully. The housework, your grades, your, well...”
I knew he was going to say “job,” and watched as he shook that thought away.
“What I mean is...I don’t want to get in your way or insult your intelligence. Or hold you back from the incredible person you are on your way to being.”
My damp throat gave way to damp eyes.
“From the moment your mother left, you stepped up,” he said, his voice cracking. “Just took over. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. It was amazing.”
Everything tightened inside of me. I knew I should simply relish these out of nowhere and desperately needed compliments. Whether it was his weary voice, Jennifer’s advice or the fact I was simply too tired to do what was best for me, I felt myself shake my head. “Well, because Mom told me to.”
Tension puckered between his dark brows. “What?”
“She left me a note. Plus, long ago, she’d told me that it was what you expected of women. Because of your aunts.”
His gaze went distant, as if he could see hundreds of yards on through my wall. “My aunts...yes...and I remember that note. That didn’t mean...you didn’t have to...” He seemed to focus back on me, his gaze turning wary. “Your mother made you feel...like you had an obligation to me?”
I nodded and drew in a breath. If we were going to do this, we were going to do this. “You seemed to expect it. Seemed to need my help, Dad.”
“I did?” Alarm shone in his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of housework and fundamental cooking and errands. Like today, I picked up your dry cleaning.”
“Thank you. I guess I didn’t have the chance to tell you how much that meant to me. But Jennifer told me she asked you to do it. Is that right?”
He nodded, then bent forward, as if he’d been kicked in the gut. “Christ, am I that clueless?”
I was on my feet before I realized it, and stepping toward him. I had never meant to hurt him. “Not clueless. Just comfortable. And it’s just as much my fault as yours because I had a voice and I didn’t use it.”
He pulled me to him. Pressing my cheek against his shirt, I tried to remember the last time we’d hugged—really hugged. I came up empty. Maybe because it had been forever. Or maybe because the power of this moment was filling the entire confines of my brain.
“Tomorrow morning,” he suddenly spoke definitively, dropping his arms. “I’m making breakfast.”
I stepped back to quirk a look at him.
“I have no idea what’s in the kitchen or what I’ll come up with, but your job will be to sit there and tell me you like it.”
“I think I can handle that,” I said and actually laughed.
“Now, do me a favor. Get some sleep so you can work up an appetite.”
“Will do.” I made a dive for my covers, a smile still tugging at the edges of my mouth. And hoping the feeling held while sleep took me away, propelling me into some pleasant or at least restful dreams.
Because with what was on tap for tomorrow, I knew I was going to need it.
Chapter 21
A woman shrieked.
At first I thought I was dreaming, since I was dug down deep under my covers, eyes closed and all. Next came frantic footsteps down the stairway.
I jumped up so fast my brain had trouble following. Then I skidded toward the steps, adrenaline pumping. Only to reach the landing to see a lady in a multi-colored gauze skirt hugging my father—Jennifer—her face all flushed, her mouth curved with laughter.
“Omigod, I was just dropping off the new seating chart and saw that thing,” she said and pointed at Tux’s elegant pose by the sofa. “I nearly had a heart attack. I thought it was an intruder—a burglar or serial killer or something.”
“A very well-dressed intruder,” my dad said in a rare display of humor.
I wanted to join in the fun—I did—but Tux’s face was all I could focus on. He looked immensely worse in the morning light, like he’d been on the wrong end of a golf club.
“Now, wait,” Jennifer went on, her tone evening. “Courtney, isn’t that the mannequin from the shop window?”
I managed a nod.
“What happened to it?”
I drew a long inward sigh, and felt my Dad touch my shoulder. “I’ll fill her in. You go take your shower.”
“Thanks,” I managed.
“Breakfast in twenty.”
A hot shower—hiding from the world while the grime of last night was rinsed away from me—sounded heavenly. Plus, my dad had definitely piqued my interest with breakfast. I couldn’t wait to see what he came up with.
But no matter. I was simply impressed he was following through, doing exactly what he’d promised in the heat of the moment. For while reasonably, rationally, I knew that this was what people should do, it just wasn’t what I was used to. Especially from people of the male persuasion.
Jennifer looped her hand through the crook of my dad’s arm as I headed for the stai
rs. “Bill, I want to hear all this—I do!—I just don’t have time to make breakfast. I need to stop by the florist and—”
My dad interrupted. “Who said anything about you cooking?”
“What?” After a long pause, her laugh filled the confines of the townhouse. Every nook and cranny. “You’re making breakfast? This I’ve got to see!”
Cruising into my room, I felt my own pearly whites flashing. Until I saw the text message icon on my phone, slamming me back into the real world.
I had not one, but three texts. From Flea, Saffron and Madison, all trumpeting that Jacy’s Facebook status had her going to Homecoming with Randy. And ending with WTH???
Before I could respond to any of them, a fourth text came in. From Randy: We need 2 talk.
Now, that was conversation I was happy to avoid. I quickly texted back: No need. I heard. Have fun tonight with Jacy. Then I added the name of the flower shop holding his boutonnière.
Thx, came back from him almost instantly. Ur great.
I quirked my brow. If only that were true. And if only I could “apply” that opinion of me to Phillip, in some sort of a pay it forward cosmic way.
If only.
What I could do was take a peek at my online bank balance. In case Phillip would let me buy my way back his good graces by covering Tux’s reconstructive surgery or—gulp—a whole new window mannequin.
First, I needed to respond to the girls. I called Flea and brought her up to speed on Randy and Jacy getting back together, asked her to cancel my nail appointment, and to spread the news.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this, Courtney? Not just being all brave or anything?”
“I’m fine,” I told her with all the throaty warmth I could muster. The dance was the least of my concerns.
“At the very least, the softball girls can send them death looks all night.”