Good

by S. Walden

  I’d been straddling him the entire time. Once my brain registered this, my legs began aching painfully.

  “Yes.” I climbed off Mark’s lap and sat beside him, sliding my sandals off and pulling my knees up to my chest. “Why did you go to school for math?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I have a masters in English.”

  “Then why are you teaching math?”

  “Because I’m good at math, and I minored in it as an undergrad. And finding a job teaching math was a lot easier.”

  I thought for a moment. “Normally people are good at one or the other.”

  “I guess I’m blessed.”

  “Are you a Christian?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Why? Because I said I’m blessed?”

  I nodded.

  “No, Cadence.”

  I thought I should leave. Everything I learned in youth group taught me never to date a nonbeliever. It was a top rule as a Christian. I didn’t remember a rule against having an affair with a teacher, but the non-Christian thing was a definite no-no.

  “What are you thinking?” Mark asked.

  Like I was going to tell him what I was thinking.

  “Do you wanna teach math forever?” I asked instead.

  “Yeah. But not at the high school level.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m saving up to go back to school,” he explained.

  “For what?”

  “A doctorate in math at Georgia Tech.”

  I nodded. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t really understand anything about doctoral programs. I assumed they made you a doctor of something. In any case, I didn’t want to come across as a complete moron or highlight our age gap.

  “I wanna teach at the university level,” Mark said.

  “Oh. I guess college students aren’t so annoying, huh?”

  Mark chuckled. “It’s really just because I like college material better.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m kind of tired of talking about myself.”

  “Impossible. Men love to talk about themselves,” I countered.

  “Have you been reading your Marie Claire lately?” he asked.

  I laughed. “That’s cute.”

  “You’re cute,” he said, and leaned over to kiss me once more.

  This time I forced my tongue into his mouth, and I think it shocked and delighted him. In fact, he sat back and let me do all the work. I didn’t mind. For some reason I thought I had something to prove to him.

  “Do that thing again,” he said between kisses.

  “What thing?” I breathed.

  “Licking my lip. I liked that,” he said.

  I smiled, satisfied, drawing away from him and cocking my head in a challenge.

  “No.”

  He considered me for a moment. “Yes.”

  I shook my head, grinning demurely.

  He leaned over, pushing me down into the couch cushions, and kissed me tenderly.

  “I like this innocent, teasing, flirty thing you’ve got going on,” he said. “And I’ll let you play like that for awhile.” He trailed kisses over my cheek to my neck, sucking gently before sinking his teeth into my skin. I whimpered and arched my body up to his. “But only for a little while.” I shuddered.

  I didn’t know where to put my hands while he kissed my neck and thought it was natural to run them through his hair. I had been dying to do this since I saw him on the side of the road. I hesitated, fingers poised above his scalp, before burying them in his hair carefully. It was soft and thick, and I swear my fingertips came across a dozen cowlicks. I giggled.

  “What?” he asked, pulling away to look down at me.

  “Your hair is a mess.”

  “I know,” he said. “Nothing I can do about it.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything about it. I love it.” I ran my fingers once more through his hair slowly, verbally counting the cowlicks.

  “One, two, three,” I said. “Oh, there’s four. Five. Six. And seven . . .”

  “Yes, Cadence,” Mark said patiently. “I have many cowlicks.”

  I laughed, and my stomach growled.

  “Oh, good grief!” I huffed.

  “Did you eat lunch today?” he asked, sliding off of me and helping me up to a sitting position.

  “No.”

  “I thought your appetite was back,” Mark said.

  “Not for school cafeteria food,” I replied.

  Mark smirked. “I fear this’ll be one expensive relationship.”

  Relationship? I guess up until he said that word I thought it was a ridiculous fantasy—one I would wake up from at any moment.

  I watched him walk to the kitchen. He paused and turned around.

  “Well? You coming?”

  “You don’t mind feeding me again?” I asked.

  “Cadence, I don’t mind doing anything for you.”

  I used to work at Mildred’s Flower Shop before I got in trouble with the law. I didn’t think Mildred would take me back after my release from juvie. Who wants an ex-con working at her business? I was surprised when Dad mentioned it that night at dinner.

  “Cadence?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Millie called my office this afternoon,” Dad said.

  “Who?”

  “Your old boss.”

  “Ohh. How is Ms. Millie?” I asked, glad to be talking instead of eating. I pushed lima beans around my plate.

  “She’s doing well. She asked about you,” Dad said.

  Don’t get your hopes up, Cadence. But I did anyway.

  “Uh huh.”

  “She wants to know if you’d be interested in returning to work. Just a few days a week.”

  “Yes!” I screamed it.

  Dad smirked. “That’s what I told her.”

  I practically danced around in my seat.

  “I told her you have tutoring on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and that you have church Wednesday nights, so it looks like you’d work Mondays and Fridays after school and on most Saturday mornings.”

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  “So it also means you’ve got your driving privileges back,” Dad went on.

  I squealed.

  “You’ve been good, Cadence, and your mother and I are proud of you,” Dad said.

  I looked over at Mom who smiled. I wanted to laugh out loud. Now I was good? Now when I was lying about my whereabouts and kissing my math teacher and hanging with the most deceitful girl on the planet? Now I was good? It was ridiculous, and I couldn’t care less. I got my car back—all the way back!—and I wanted to go somewhere.

  “Um, Dad? I know it’s a week night, but could I drive over to see Avery? We were going to study together for our history exam,” I lied. “It’d be much easier and less expensive in person than over the phone.”

  Dad considered my request. Before, he would have automatically said no before I finished asking the entire question. But this was Avery: good, sweet, wonderful influence Avery.

  “Be home by ten,” he said.

  I kissed his forehead and dashed out the door.

  ***

  My first day back on the job was like I never left. Ms. Millie greeted me warmly with a hug and kiss on my cheek, then insisted I drop the “Ms.”

  “You’re practically an adult, Cadence,” she said. “And we’re work colleagues.”

  “You’re my boss, Ms. Millie,” I replied.

  “Oh, it’s casual around here,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “And I insist.”

  I wouldn’t argue with her about it anymore, but I confess that the first few times I called her “Millie,” I felt guilty.

  “You’re delivering today,” she said, and I groaned. “Hey, you’re an ex-con. Did you think I was going to welcome you back with the fun jobs?”

  I grinned. The fun jobs were arranging the bouquets, of course, and I had to admit that I was really good at it. A
nd she knew it, too. But she saw fit to “punish” me with flower deliveries until I earned the privilege of arranging flowers again. We packed the back of her van in order of the delivery list, and I stopped her before she closed the trunk.

  “Wait. I promise to never get high and rob a convenience store again,” I said, holding up my right hand while my left hovered over a bouquet of roses. I didn’t have a Bible, so I figured the roses were the next best thing.

  “That’s right, you won’t, or you’ll be on permanent delivery duty,” she said. “Now here are the keys,” and she dropped them in my hand. “Get going. Today’s a busy one if you hadn’t noticed.”

  I loved Millie’s organizational skills. She mapped out my drive to make it the easiest and most efficient. I hopped into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition, feeling genuinely happy to be back at work in an environment that smelled so good. That was one of my favorite things about working in a floral shop (and van): the delicious, sensual aromatic atmosphere.

  I’m not a planner by nature, so I didn’t bother to look over the entire delivery list before I started my route. I just checked off houses as I went, completely oblivious to my next stop after the Petersons: Gracie’s house. When it finally occurred to me, I wondered if Gracie’s mom would even open the door when I knocked. Then I tried to figure out why they were having flowers delivered. It wasn’t Gracie’s birthday. I wasn’t sure about her mother. The more I pondered it, the more anxious I grew until my hands were shaking, pulling the bouquet out of the back of the van, walking to Gracie’s front door with terror written all over my face. I hadn’t been to her house in more than a year.

  I rang the doorbell.

  Gracie answered. She was stunned, and then she took the flowers I held out to her.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “Whose birthday?”

  She looked over her shoulder for a brief second then back at me.

  “No one’s.”

  “So what’s up with the flowers?”

  “Mom and Dad’s anniversary,” Gracie said.

  I nodded.

  I watched Gracie place the bouquet on a hall table then return to the door. She stood silent, apparently unwillingly to say “goodbye” but unable to think of another topic of conversation.

  “So, what’s new?” I asked.

  “Not much.”

  I sighed. She wasn’t offering me anything, and I suddenly grew impatient. I turned to leave.

  “I see you hanging with Avery a lot,” Gracie said.

  “Yeah. She’s nice,” I replied, turning back around.

  “I guess.” Gracie shrugged.

  She was jealous, and oddly, it gave me comfort. She did miss me, but she was too angry still to admit it.

  “It’s not the same, though,” I replied. I watched her face for a reaction, and I got one. Her eyes welled.

  Then her mother appeared out of nowhere and ruined everything.

  “May I help you, Cadence?” she asked. She took up most of the doorway, and Gracie shrank into the background almost out of sight.

  “Just delivering flowers,” I replied. “Happy anniversary.”

  “Millie took you back?” I could see Mrs. Turner instantly regretted her words.

  I tried for humor. “Can you believe it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Have a nice day, Cadence.”

  “Wait! Can I finish talking to Gracie?” I asked.

  “About?”

  “Stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Um . . . no.”

  “Then no you may not,” and she shut the door in my face.

  ***

  With each passing day, it became easier to lie to my parents. At the beginning, I felt tons of guilt, but now it simply became a part of my existence, my genetic code. The lying sealed my heart, separated me from my parents, but surprisingly, I wasn’t sad about it. I had become accustomed to our distant relationship, and now it was just a waiting game before I graduated and was free of them.

  I couldn’t have spent so much time with Mark had it not been for Avery. She was skilled in deceit, and she taught me well. We made sure our stories always matched up, and we were, for the most part, good about planning ahead. Not once did my parents ever feel the need to call hers, and vice versa. They blithely believed us. Avery was just that good. And she insisted on taking me shopping to dress up my look when I informed her of my plans to go to a club with Mark this weekend. He wanted me to hear a local DJ, and I was a nervous wreck.

  “For a tiny thing, you sure do have a nice, little booty,” Avery said, slapping my butt.

  “What are you doing?” I squealed, instinctively covering my bottom. We were in the changing room at Love Culture Friday afternoon.

  “Your ass looks amazing in those jeans,” Avery said. “Mystery Man’ll be all over that.”

  I blushed.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he smacked it around a little,” Avery continued, staring at my ass.

  “Avery!” I was bright red by now.

  “Cadence, stop being such a freaking prude,” Avery said. “You look hot. Embrace it.”

  I turned around and studied my butt, and I had to admit that it looked nice.

  “I like the jeans, I do,” I said. “I’m just not so sure about the top.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid it’ll fall down,” I replied, pulling on the fabric. “It’s not like I’ve got anything holding it up.”

  “It’s not going anywhere. You’re paranoid because you’re not used to showing so much skin,” Avery said.

  I nodded.

  “Cadence? You look really pretty and sexy.”

  I grinned.

  “Now tell me about this special weekend,” Avery said.

  It was the first Saturday night I’d spend with Mark, but I had no plans to have sex with him.

  “You’re gonna ruin your night, you know,” Avery huffed. “Worrying the way you do.”

  She was right, and I didn’t want to ruin my night with Mark. I wanted the date to be fun and fantastic.

  “I don’t know what he has planned other than the club,” I said, changing back into my clothes. I decided to buy the jeans and the top.

  “I didn’t take you for the kind of girl who goes for the bump-and-grind type of guy,” Avery said.

  “I’m not and he’s not,” I said, walking out of the dressing room. “It’s not that kind of club.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m going to hear a local DJ who does that scratching business.”

  “Ohhh, so like a real DJ,” Avery said. “That’s pretty cool. And sophisticated. So Mystery Man is like a sophisticated hipster or something?”

  I laughed. “Um, sure.”

  “Just like you to go for a person like that,” Avery replied. She rolled her eyes.

  “And what kind of guy do you go for?” I asked as we waited in line at the register.

  “Not your business.”

  I didn’t press her. I just let Avery volunteer information as she felt comfortable. The truth was that I was itching to learn more about Gavin, but I respected her too much to press for details. It’s like she said: if a friendship developed, then all the better, but we were still in the “freedom over friendship” phase of our relationship.

  “Hey, aren’t you still seventeen?” Avery asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then how can you go to a club?”

  “Mark is good friends with the bouncer. He’s letting me in as the DD,” I said.

  “‘Mark’ is it?” Avery asked, grinning maliciously.

  Oh shit.

  “Um, yeah,” I replied, totally pissed at my slip-up.

  Avery, respectful of my privacy, didn’t ask me anything else. As we left the store, she simply said, “Mark’s gonna be all over your ass.”

  ***

 
; For a split second I regretted my decision. I looked down at my outfit. I thought I looked pretty—shimmery black tube top, skinny jeans, pink pumps—but the whole thing screamed, “Imposter!” I didn’t dress sexy and considered changing when I got to Mark’s.

  I felt incredibly self-conscious as I waited for him to answer his door. When he did, his eyes went wide. “Wow.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yes. Really. Wow. Zers. Wowzers. You look amazing,” he said, pulling me inside. He kissed me hungrily. “Let’s stay here tonight,” he cooed in my ear.

  Well, if I got that reaction, Avery did right by me. And suddenly I wanted to show off.

  “Nice try,” I said. “I spent my hard-earned money on this outfit, and you’re gonna take me somewhere in it!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mark replied. He backed away and studied me. “Care to do a little turn for me?”

  I remembered what Avery said earlier as she pulled down my tube top to reveal a bit of cleavage, how men are visual creatures. I spun around slowly, letting his gaze hit every inch of my body. When my back was to him, I felt a playful pop on my bottom.

  “Mark!” I squealed.

  “Yes?”

  I didn’t know what to say. He came up behind me and cupped both cheeks.

  “I’m in love with your ass, Cadence,” he said into my hair. “You don’t even know the things I wanna do to it.”

  My mouth dropped open, but he couldn’t see. My face also went the color of a tomato. He couldn’t see that either.

  “I hope you don’t mind my hands all over it tonight,” he said, and turned me to face him. “Why are you all red?” he teased, running his hands over my backside.

  “I’m not!” I replied, but I couldn’t look at him. Avery was right about the jeans.

  “Is it because I said I’m in love with your ass?”

  I giggled.

  “Because I am,” he went on. “But I’ll stop torturing you. I don’t want you dying of embarrassment before we even make it to the club.”

  “Ha ha,” I replied drily. “One of these days I’ll become so desensitized that your comments won’t even faze me anymore.”

  “Doubtful,” he said, and squeezed my rump one last time before walking to the kitchen.

  “I’m a little nervous,” I confessed.

  “About the club?”