“Aw.” I decided not to comment too far on that, knowing I’d probably say the wrong thing, touch delicate territory.
“Of course, it does come in handy when you can see better in the dark, or smell others from miles back.” A grin spread across his face. “Or hear somebody across camp talk about how her friend should come… what was it? Suck my face off?”
My jaw dropped, a gasp bellowing from my throat. “Oh my God!” I clasped my hands over my scorching face and whimpered. “Oh, Hayden you didn’t! Please, please tell me you didn’t hear Cheyenne’s babbling I’ll be mortified.”
He laughed. “Eh, don’t worry. People have said way worse things involving me.” He exited the internet, scooting his chair to the front counter.
I sighed, watching my fingers draw invisible circles on the countertop. My face felt like a lava pit. I could’ve died right then and there. “So have you heard anything else I should be aware of?”
“Mm. Not that I can remember off the top of my head.” He filed some papers in the cabinet on the floor, still smiling. “But if I do, I’ll let you know.”
My pulse quickened as we locked eyes then. I tried not to smile back, knowing the Rose from before Friday would’ve just glared or growled, or done something in between. Somehow my lips turned up halfway.
Suddenly his gaze shot over the top of my head. His smile died.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Greg snapped his head around, returning to the job of marking price tags. His cheeks pinked as he moved to the other side of the rack, out of view. “He doesn’t want you talking to me,” Hayden whispered.
I retorted, “I thought you couldn’t read minds.”
“I can’t. But I can feel the anger practically rolling off him.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not to mention the testosterone. He likes you, you know.”
“Greg?” My eyebrows shot up. “You’re nuts, he has a girlfriend!”
“Maybe so. Doesn’t change anything.” He narrowed his eyes at his coworker. “Ten bucks says he goes and tattles on us to your two other little boyfriends.”
I shook my head. “Don’t even worry about that. I’ll deal with them.”
“I suppose they all still think I’m a criminal for the Arizona incident.”
“Don’t worry about that, either. They don’t know the whole truth.”
He shot me a look. “And you do?”
“Well.” I leaned away, taken aback. “You said it was Adrian that broke in. And your friend got killed. I sort of guessed the rest on my… own?”
We stared intensely. Sighing, he looked away first. He was all uptight again. It was time to change the subject. “I want to know more about the other realm,” I whispered.
“Rule number two: we don’t say anything about it in public. Is that clear?”
So much for getting answers to my list of questions here. “Ok. So, invite me over. Or would you like to come to my place?”
The pencil he’d been writing something with suddenly snapped. His eyes were wide as he slowly looked up from his paper.
I tilted my head. “What?”
“You actually want to come back to the apartment and learn more?” he asked, using a tone that said: are you insane?
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” I shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal—which it wasn’t.
He flushed, muttering something under his breath.
“What’s wrong with me coming back? Do your roommates not like me or something?” Unless it was his horrendous kitchen and impaired decorating skills, I was confused.
His fingers dug into the top of his hat as he sigh-growled. “No. Quite the opposite; they won’t stop asking about you.”
“No way.”
“Yes. Way.”
I grinned, flattered all over again. “Ok, so what’s the deal?”
Grabbing a new pencil, he continued to scribble notes, silent. I almost wonder if he was just acting like he was working. “Hayden,” I said impatiently.
He dropped his pencil and turned to fully face me. “You’ve barely learned the basics. How do you know it doesn’t get worse? You think because they have wings and talents and inhuman gifts that it’s all gold and rainbows?”
I swallowed. “I never thought that.”
“Good. Because it isn’t.” He shifted back to the counter. “It was dangerous to let you in. I figured you’d just take what I told you about Adrian and let the rest go.”
My mouth dropped. “Are you that thick? You really thought that once you basically handed me the keys to all of that that all I would be curious about was Adrian? Oh my God! That’s like handing me the keys to a Lamborghini and saying, ‘hey, drive about half a block down the road and you’ll find taco bell. Oh, and by the way, the mall’s that direction, the beach is back that way, and the auto show is about five miles outside of town!’”
He stared, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “And your point is?”
“My point is: you really think I’m just going to take taco bell when all that other stuff is out there?” I crossed my arms, chewing on my lip. “And when you’ve handed me the keys to one of the newest, most expensive automobiles on the planet?”
There was finally an ounce of consideration in his expression. He lowered his eyes before leaning over to file away the paperwork.
“So the other realm isn’t all rainbows and junk, but what’s so terrible about it?” I whispered. “Can’t be worse than our world.”
“I wasn’t referring to just their world.”
I hesitated. He wasn’t going to tell me what that meant—that much was clear. But maybe later? “What are you doing Friday?” I questioned, determined to get something out of him. I had to learn more. “Are you working?”
He gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“You get off at, what? Five or so like the boys?”
“… Possibly.”
“Are you doing anything at six?”
He chucked his pencil at a pen-filled cup and missed. “I guess I am now.”
“Good.” I picked the pencil off the floor, sticking it in the cup. “Friday at six then.”
“Yippy.” He was completely unenthused.
I was the total opposite. “You wanna do dinner? Would pizza work?”
“Uh, if you’re trying to poison me, yes. Pizza will work just fine.”
I gasped. “You don’t like pizza?”
“I don’t like tomato sauce.” He twisted a strand of his dreads through his fingers. “And no, before you get all accusing and folklore-ish, I don’t burn when I eat it. I can eat it, I just don’t like it.”
I squinted, still unconvinced. “I’ve never met a man that wouldn’t eat pizza because of tomato sauce.” If it was a vegetable pizza, or one covered in anchovies, maybe I could see why he wouldn’t eat it. But the sauce?
He chuckled. “Trust me; you won’t ever meet anyone like me again. Not around here, at least.”
Touché. “Ok, no pizza. Oh! There’s this really good seafood joint about two miles outside of dad’s house. They have really good shrimp and halibut. What about that?”
“How about this.” He placed a hand under his chin. “Lea owes me a favor. I’ll have him pick up dinner, and I’ll pick you up from your house at about sixthirty. Kay?”
It looked like he batted his lashes for a second. Our faces were close. My heart rate sky-rocketed, butterflies infesting my stomach.
“Oh. Alright.” That came out way too dreamy. “But you know I could just drive here and you could take me—… No. No I can’t let dad see us.” I glanced at him across the way, advertising some chest protectors to a hefty customer. I didn’t know what he’d say if he saw us leave the shop together. He might make some crude comment or decide to give me a recap of the birds and the bees. If I was going to be picked up, it’d have to be from the house. Dad rarely glanced out the windows when I had friends pick me up, though he tended to assume they were girls.
Hayden snorted. “Uh, honestly your dad was th
e least of my worries. I was thinking more along the lines of the others.” He tilted his head at Joe, then Greg. “If they see you get in the truck with me… I’ll probably get attacked next Monday. Find my tires slashed or something.”
“Oh. I see your point.” Joe kept looking our way, but he did it quick and casual, trying to not act like he was keeping an eye. And, of course, Greg kept glaring in our direction… yes, they could be a slight problem. “Pick me up from the house then?”
“Six-thirty on Friday.” He nodded.
“Six-thirty on Friday,” I repeated. “Sounds good.”
16) Traits
Six-thirty on Friday had never seemed so far away. The week dragged on in a frustrating manner and brought new struggles that I should’ve been, but wasn’t prepared for, like the guys at work were constantly keeping me within eyesight. Chanel had clearly mistaken my desire for space as a desire to not be friends, and had abandoned our lunch table to join Trent’s. Paul was back on Tuesday, insisting on that date I’d been counting on but now didn’t want as I realized my high affections for him were turning into—I couldn’t believe it—the downhill ruts of a crush.
So when Friday finally did arrive, I was ecstatic. It was one of those mornings where you wake up and the sun is shining and the birds are singing outside your window. Today was (hopefully) going to be as good as I’d hoped.
Messing with outfits that evening, I didn’t know what to wear to Hayden’s. I just knew I was determined to look good. Casual. Like I was preparing for an upper scale high school event—one that didn’t include Chanel or drunken bargoers and disco lights or my hair getting eaten by a toilet. While digging in the closet, I debated on what to tell dad. He wouldn’t care if I said I was going out for a while, but he would care if he decided to randomly glance out the window with Hayden’s truck in the driveway. And lying to dad was three times worse than “exaggerating” to mom.
But I shouldn’t have to lie . Heck, I was eighteen years old. I was legally allowed to do as I pleased!
A sigh passed my lips. I knew it still wasn’t that easy. Even when I turn thirty I’ll probably still dread the idea of disappointing my parents.
I threw a silky sweater back in the closet. Too formal. It was totally a lunchwith-my-mother type top. I held up a pink zebra-print jacket. Nope. Too bright. Bright jackets were for mall-dates or school.
I was just settling on a pair of skinny jeans and a PINK Victoria Secret hoodie when there was a knock on my door. “Rosie?” Dad called. “You sound like you’re having a war in there! What are you doing?”
Crap! I stamped my foot. This was the time to tell him, and I didn’t know what to tell him! Crap, crap, crap.
“Uh. One second!” I threw my bathrobe off and yanked the jeans on. Searching frantically for a green tank to match the hoodie, I ended up with a plain-Jane white one instead. When I was decent, I opened the door.
Dad was standing there, eating a bowl of what smelled like clam chowder. “Dad,” I said. “Hi.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hi?”
“Uh, what’s up?”
“What cha doing?” He scanned me from hair to toenails. “You look like you’re going somewhere.”
“Um.” Here we go. “Yeah. I am.”
“Uh-huh.” His suspicious-dad tone was going. He ate a spoonful of chowder, then added, “That uh, that don’t look like a casual going-to-Chanel’s-house outfit.”
I swallowed. God, of all the times he never noticed that I was taking off. “Um. It’s not—for Chanel’s house, I mean.”
“So, whose house is it for?”
I flinched, hesitating. “Ok, it’s not a date! It’s just a casual get-together, I promise.”
“Spit it out, Rose.”
I sighed. “I’m going to… Hayden’s.”
Dad about dropped his bowl. He gaped at me, eyes the size of pool balls. “Hayden’s? As in, Hayden O’Conner from work, Hayden?!”
“Hayden… from work… Hayden,” I mumbled.
He stared on, then burst out laughing. “Oh-ho, sheet dip!” He chortled, turning back towards the living room. “Oh yeah, ‘fire him, daddy, fire him’! And now you’re best friends, huh? That Wendy’s salad must’ve been pretty darn good! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Oh, please, dad,” I whined, following at his heels. I wanted to say, this has nothing to do with the Wendy’s thing, but I knew if I said that he’d want to know the real reasons—which I couldn’t tell him. “We’re having dinner with a couple of his friends and then I’m coming home!”
Dad plunked down on the couch, still chuckling. “Oh boy,” he breathed, flicking the TV on. “Just dinner, huh?”
“Yes, just dinner,” I said, getting testy. “And then maybe a movie or something. I don’t really know yet.”
“I see.” His tone was low, odd.
“Look, if you’re so worried I have my phone, ok?” I pulled it from my pocket
before he could come up with some protest that Race or Greg would’ve thrown
at me. “It’s fully charged, the ringer’s on high. You can call me later if you’re so
suspicious.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, his tone quickly dying.
“What?” I demanded, hands on my hips. “You obviously have something to
say, so say it.”
He set his bowl on the table in front of him. Oh great. This looked like one
of those serious talks. Oh no, wait! Where was the reality rewind button? I didn’t
have time for a serious talk right now, not when six-thirty was so close! “Rose,” he started, leaning forward with his elbows to his knees. “There’s still
been some complaint lately. You know, about Hayden.” He looked up, concern
about the new employee at long last filling his gaze. “And even though I don’t
necessarily agree with the things the boys say, it is true that he still has a black
mark on his record—”
“Oh, dad!” I cried. “Please, please don’t choose now to act parental!” “Well, you know, better late than never,” he retorted. “And even though I
highly doubt he would ever hurt you, the fact of the matter still makes me—” “He would never hurt the boss’s daughter,” I made clear. “Plus, even if I wasn’t
the boss’s daughter, he wouldn’t hurt me. Ever.” The opposite, I wanted to add. He’s
the one protecting me, you fool!
Dad held up his hands. “Rose, I didn’t say he would, I just want you to be
careful.”
“I am careful!”
“Well—” He cut himself off now. Scratching his head, he sighed in surrender.
“Oye. Who are his friends?”
“Drake and Lea, the boys that came into the shop with him a couple weeks
ago. When you first gave Hayden the job application.”
That seemed to appease him a little. “No girls, though?”
“Probably not.” I narrowed my eyes. “But you know, I bet if I said I was going
with Race and Preston, you’d—”
Lights flashed over the living room just then. We jerked our heads to look
out the window, witnessing Hayden’s Silverado give a dull roar as it pulled into
the driveway.
“Great.” I aimed a venomous look at the man I called ‘dad’, who was all
slumped against the couch cushions. “He’s here, and my makeup isn’t even on
yet!” I stomped towards the bathroom.
“If it ain’t a date you shouldn’t need makeup,” he muttered sourly.
“I’ll just, wing it.” I whipped out the drawers under the bathroom sink and grabbed my black eyeliner. Brushing up on my blush real quick, I drug a smudge of gloss over my lips. I was heading back to my room when I realized dad had left the couch. He stood in his sweatpants and T-shirt, opening the front door.
“Dad!” I cried. “What the heck are you—”
“Hey!” He called
to the truck. He waved a hand, motioning for Hayden to get out and come on inside.
“Dad!”
“Hey, this is the proper way to do it—”
“Yeah, when it’s a date!”
“No, you ain’t supposed to trust any boy these days.” He set his hands on his hips. I heard a car door slam. “It’s my job to check him out like a father, not just a boss. Just think of it like going through security at the airport.”
Hayden’s shadow passed the curtained window, coming up the sidewalk. I slapped a hand over my face. If dad could be anymore embarrassing, I’d have died by now. “Like security at the airport.” I shook my head, trooping to the bedroom. Gathering up my purse and brushing my hair out, I zoned out dad’s spiel on testosterone as Hayden approached.
“Hey there, Hayden!” He greeted loud and cheerily, just like he did before my first date with Scott so long ago.
“Hey, Mr. Ridgewood.” Hayden sounded nervous, voice echoing from outside.
“So, uh, Rose tells me you two are doing dinner and maybe a movie, is that right?”
“Dad, stop making it sound like a date!” I scowled, throwing my flip-flops on.
Entering the hall, I witnessed Hayden standing there beside dad, dressed in a black hat and thin hoodie. His hat had a white crown emblem in one corner. I cringed, realizing it was the emblem for Corona beer.
“So, uh.” Dad eyeballed the emblem. My mind was spouting off swear words. “Where are ya going and what time will she be back?”
Hayden paled at dad’s intense stare. “Um, just my apartment, sir. But no worries. Like she told you, it’s just dinner and maybe a movie. I’ll have her back by nine at the latest.”
Dad’s eyes scanned him. Then my old man clapped him on the back while saying, “Take care of her. I’d, uh, hate to think what would happen if—”
“Dad,” I snapped.
“Right. Well, off you go.”
Hayden gave a stiff nod, then headed back outside. “Goodnight, Mr. Ridgewood.”
Darting out behind him, I glared at dad one last time. He just smiled from the doorway, waving pleasantly. “I’ll call you later, Rosie.”
“Goodbye, dad.” I restrained from growling as I strode to the Silverado, sure he’d be watching through the window until we were out of sight. “Sorry about that,” I apologized to Hayden once we were both in the truck. “He gets all dadprotective sometimes.”
A Taste of Silver Page 19