by Botts, Liz
Dropping his head down, Kyle said, “Let’s go down to the choir room and get that rehearsal in for the audition.”
I followed Kyle to the music wing. My brain couldn’t quite process what was happening. The choir room would be deserted until after lunch, so we’d be alone. Instead of feeling over the moon about being alone with Kyle, I felt more nervous than anything else. I wanted to run and at least tell someone so they could reassure me that it would be great.
The choir room was hot like always. On a good day, you’d leave choir with only slightly damp armpits. On bad days, you’d leave with rivulets of sweat running down your face into all the nooks and crannies that you didn’t want to think about. Not exactly the place I pictured having my first real alone encounter with Kyle, but I’d take what I could get. The band teacher kept insisting that soon they were getting an air conditioning unit in here. That would be the day.
“Now, did you think about what I said last night?” Kyle asked, leaning enticingly against the piano. I loved the way his pale blue sweater hugged his rangy frame, ending just at the waistband of his faded jeans. And what wasn’t to love about the fact that he wore loafers. Loafers. It seemed so 1950 to me for some reason. As did the horn-‐-rimmed glasses that he wore to make himself look intellectual and brooding. The only thing that ruined his brooding look was his blond hair. I’m not sure it’s entirely possible to look brooding when you’re blond, but maybe I’m just biased.
“Umm…maybe you could refresh my memory,” I said, stalling. Because, duh, of course I’d been thinking about what he’d said, and I’d decided to try out for Kelly, the lead. And that wasn’t something I was willing to tell Kyle.
Kyle gave me a smile that I’d never seen before from any guy, and I realized that he thought I was flirting with him. My breath caught. Me, flirting. Holy cow! I’d been fidgeting near a music stand, and after I made my comment, Kyle sauntered over to me, placing his hands near mine on the top of the music stand.
“You little minx,” he smiled. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Maybe you aren’t quite as wholesome as everyone thinks.”
I stared at him in confusion because I had no idea what to say, and my mouth was far too dry for me to speak. Had he just called me a minx? And what did my being wholesome have to do with anything?
Kyle reached out and ran his hands along my shoulders. The gesture felt possessive somehow, and I wanted to take a step back.
“Let me teach you,” Kyle said suggestively. I mean, the tone of his voice was suggestive, not particularly what he said, but it confused me anyway.
Needing to breathe, I took a step back and moved toward the piano. “That’s a great idea,” I said. “What song should I sing for my audition?”
“Oh, we aren’t anywhere near ready to think about that yet.”
Kyle ran a hand along my forearm. “I need to teach you technique first. Are you willing to learn at my hands?”
I squirmed at the tone of his voice again. Somehow I think he thought he sounded sexy, but he sounded creepy. Without waiting for my response, Kyle took my elbow and guided me to the piano. Placing his hand on my abdomen, dangerously close to inappropriateness, he said, “You breathe from here.”
Something in his tone ticked me off, and I stepped away from him. “I know how to breathe, Kyle. I’ve been singing since I was seven.”
“Of course you have,” Kyle said with a laugh. “But if you want lessons from me, you have to submit yourself to me completely.”
I wasn’t sure that sounded good. Suddenly I just wanted to go eat my lunch. “Listen, Kyle, thank you so much for using your free time to give me this attention, but I really need to go eat something.”
“Are you hypoglycemic?” Kyle asked. “My grandma totally is.” I think he was trying to be understanding, but it didn’t make sense to me, so I just used it as my escape. Grabbing my stuff, I practically ran to the lunchroom feeling even more unsettled than before. Kyle was finally noticing me, so why wasn’t I happier?
Chapter Three
“I want you girls to be nice to Grandma’s boyfriend tonight,” Mom said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
I glanced at Hayley as she set a water glass at each place. She returned my gaze and shrugged. Picking up a stack of plates, I said,
“Sure, Mom. Why wouldn’t we be?”
Mom came into the dining room from the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. She hesitated and then said, “It’s just that Grandma’s boyfriend is a bit younger than her.”
“So?” I asked.
“How much younger?” Hayley wanted to know.
“He’s twenty-‐-seven,” Mom admitted.
My jaw dropped. I was acutely aware of it hitting the ground as I did the math in my head. Grandma had Mom when she was seventeen. Mom was forty, so that made Grandma fifty-‐-seven.
“She’s thirty years older than him,” I gasped.
“Wow, Grandma’s a cougar,” Hayley murmured, a weird streak of awe in her voice.
Mom grimaced. “Don’t use that term, please. It sounds so crass.” I watched Mom head back into the kitchen, her shoulders slumped slightly, like she was bothered by tonight’s dinner. But it was for her mom, so what could she do? Hayley and I glanced at each other not sure what to say or how to say it. I honestly wasn’t sure how I felt about my grandmother dating a guy barely ten years older than me. On one hand, Grandma deserved to have fun and be happy. She’d raised Mom alone, sometimes working two or three jobs to give Mom the best life possible. Still…on the other hand, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that my grandma had a hot young boyfriend and I certainly didn’t. Is it even okay to be jealous of your grandma?
Finishing setting the table came as something of a relief as I could escape to my room for a bit before dinner. The musical script lay untouched on my desk where I had tossed it the day before.
After Claudia’s little reveal at the basketball game, I’d completely forgotten to finish Ms. Bard’s assignment. Thankfully, our special assembly celebrating diversity in cafeteria choices had saved me from having to admit to being unprepared in class. Besides, everyone else’s analysis of the soundtrack had diverted most of the discussion away from the script.
Uploading the soundtrack to my iPod, I flipped through the script, trying to concentrate on the bit part of the younger sister. I barely got past the first page when I realized how insulted I should have been. In the stage directions, Kyle had written a description of Tiffany, the younger sister. It read: Tiffany is the exact opposite of Kelly. Where Kelly is beautiful, vivacious, and outgoing, Tiffany is homely, awkward, and shy. She sets the stage for Kelly’s brilliance by being a miserable presence.
First of all, what did that even mean? Secondly, hadn’t Kyle said that I would be perfect for the role of Kelly’s younger sister? I was beyond insulted, and I couldn’t believe Kyle actually thought that about me. Maybe he just thought I was a good enough actress to pull off such a difficult role. That made me feel a little better, but then the nagging doubts crept in as they tended to do. The more I read the script, the more I saw myself as Tiffany. Kelly reminded me of my older sister Harlow, without a doubt, and there I was, the less talented little sister lending my miserable existence to set up her brilliant life.
My parents had known before Harlow was even born that she would be a star. They bought her a tiny director’s chair to park her baby booty in. And they named her after Jean Harlow, the original platinum blonde.
I was still mulling over the script when Mom called us to dinner. Hayley giggled all the way down the stairs. I tried to shush her, but by the time we got to the table, we were both laughing too hard to even breathe. Our grandma was a cougar. Seriously, how could anyone not find that hilarious?
Luckily, Grandma and her boyfriend weren’t there yet, so Hayley and I had a few minutes to collect ourselves.
“Girls, I want you to remember that this is important to Mom,” Dad lectured us, mock sternly. “Be nice.”
Dad burst out laughing and was still chuckling as he went to open the door when the doorbell rang. Hayley and I were actually bouncing in our seats we were so excited to meet Grandma’s boyfriend. This would make for great stories tomorrow at school.
I could hear Dad using his booming guest voice, the one he thinks sounds “jovial”. Totally his word for it, not mine. Mom came into the dining room with a plate of something small that I guessed was supposed to be appetizers, or at least I hoped so because I was starving. She kept running her fingers through her hair and tugging on her blouse, and that’s when I realized that my mom, the high brow professor recently promoted to Dean of her department at the university, was nervous. Grandma and Grandpa had been divorced since Mom was two, and I couldn’t remember Grandma ever having a boyfriend for more than a week. So as funny as it all seemed, it was a big deal.
“Mom, you look great,” I said, softly. She gave me a hesitant, befuddled smile, and headed back in to the kitchen. “I think she’s nervous,” I whispered to Hayley, who nodded in agreement.
Dad led Grandma and a young man, who was, I have to be honest, super hot, to the table. “Girls, I’d like you to meet Duke, Grandma’s friend.”
“Oh, Chuck,” Grandma said, swatting Dad’s arm. “Girls, Duke is my boyfriend. Let’s get it all out in the open. We’ve been dating for five months. Why beat around the bush? We all know he’s younger than me, but I think that’s doing me a world of good.”
Grandma gave Duke’s butt a nice pat, and I had to look away, embarrassed. Then she headed into the kitchen to help Mom.
Dad took Duke’s coat and went to hang it up, leaving me and Hayley alone to entertain Duke.
“Your Grandma’s hot,” Duke commented as he sat down across the table from us. Hayley made a weird noise, and I wasn’t sure how to respond, so an awkward silence descended on the table.
Finally, Hayley said, “So, um, Duke’s an interesting name.
How’d you get that one?”
“My parents had a dog named Duke when they first got married. They named me after him,” Duke smiled proudly.
Hayley and I exchanged glances, trying hard not to laugh.
“Wow, that’s special,” Hayley said, covering her giggle with a faux cough. Duke burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you fell for that!”
“So your parents didn’t name you after a dog?” I asked, just for clarification’s sake, of course.
“Of course not,” Duke said, still chuckling. “Both of my parents went to Duke University, so they thought it would be a fitting tribute to the place where they met.”
“That’s a better story,” Hayley said. She tipped her chair back on two legs and gazed at Duke thoughtfully.
“Hey, where’s the john?” Duke asked. “I want to freshen up for Wanda.”
“Down the hall, second door on the right,” I said.
When Duke was well out of ear shot, Hayley grabbed an appetizer, and said, “He’s hot, but dumb as a post.”
“No kidding.” I stood up and began rearranging the silverware.
“I’m not sure I can take a whole meal of him telling us that Grandma is hot or Grandma being all touchy feely.” Hayley shuddered.
“Me either,” I agreed. “But remember what Dad said, this is important to Mom.”
“Girls, could you help me?” Mom called from the kitchen.
“Sure, be there in a second,” I grinned at Hayley. “Are we going to do the Interrogation?”
“Absolutely.” She grinned back.
The Interrogation was something we’d come up with when we were younger to get through some of the interminable dinners with Grandma’s boyfriends. Grandpa had remarried shortly after the divorce and we called our step-‐-grandmother, Moomaw because she really liked collecting cows. We saw Grandpa and Moomaw twice a year, on Groundhog’s Day and for the Summer solstice.
Grandma had never remarried. She dated. As a serial dater, Grandma had a new boyfriend every few months. Most of them were professional, older gentlemen who liked to pull quarters from behind our ears. So the Interrogation became our way to liven things up.
“Here,” Mom said, thrusting a bowl of salad into my arms.
“Put this on the table.”
I rummaged around in the utensil drawer until I found the salad tongs, and then headed back into the dining room where Hayley had been sent to fill the water glasses. We didn’t eat like this often. Usually Dad, Mom, and Hayley or I ate a quick meal at the kitchen table because we were all so busy. Sometimes when Mom was teaching a class or Dad was working late at the library, Hayley and I just nuked a frozen dinner and ate in front of the TV, much to the chagrin of both of our parents.
Mom’s position as dean of the History Department and Dad’s position as head of the university library did mean there were fancy dinners at our house several times a year, but Hayley and I weren’t expected to attend those. Grandma dinners were different for obvious reasons. And as much as I loved Grandma, I rarely loved her boyfriends. The one exception had been Martin.
She dated him when I was nine or ten. He was a set designer for a theater company in Chicago. When he found out that Harlow and I were interested in theater, he arranged to take us backstage during a show. It was the coolest experience of my young life and had cemented my love of theater. My heart had broken when Grandma dumped him for a line cook named Al.
Duke and Grandma scooted their chairs together so that there was literally no space between them. Her hand was under the table in parts unknown. Hayley leaned over and whispered, “This reminds me of that scene from Wedding Crashers.”
“Ew,” I whispered back.
“So, girls, do you have boyfriends?” Grandma asked before dinner even started.
“I do,” Hayley replied brightly. “His name is Mike. He’s dreamy.”
“Dreamy, eh? You should find yourself a nice young stud, Hayley,” Grandma advised. “Dreamy doesn’t get you anywhere.”
Hayley frowned. “But I really like him, Grandma. He’s funny and hot.”
“But you’re a cheerleader, Hayley,” Grandma said. Geez, she was persistent. “You should be with someone of your caliber.”
“What teen movie are you living in, Grandma?” Hayley laughed. “Mike is awesome. Mind your own business.”
“Hayley! Don’t talk to your grandmother that way.” Mom brought in the lasagna and set it on the table.
“Sorry, Grandma,” Hayley said, stuffing a dinner roll in her mouth.
“What about you, Hannah?” Grandma asked.
“Not currently. I’m trying out for the lead in the musical, though.”
Hmmm…apparently, I had made up my mind. Grandma barely registered that news, she was stuck on the fact that I didn’t have a boyfriend. I could just tell.
“I think you should focus on more important things,”
Grandma said. “Theater isn’t really your strength anyway, love muffin. That’s Harlow’s thing. You need to find a boyfriend and get you some lovin’. You’re far too serious.”
What could I say to that? I grabbed a dinner roll to stuff into my mouth. Mom dished out the lasagna and everyone dug in. Dad began talking about a book he was reading. About halfway through the meal, I nudged Hayley with my foot.
“So, Duke,” she began. “Where do you work?”
Duke grinned, happy to talk about himself. He was going to be such an easy target for the Interrogation. “I’m the assistant manager over at the Sugar Bomb.”
I nearly choked on the pop I’d just taken a sip of. “The strip club?” “Well, we prefer to call it a gentleman’s club,” Duke explained, “but yup, that’s the one.”
“Oh dear,” Mom murmured and looked at Dad.
“Well, where did you and Grandma meet?” Hayley persisted with the Interrogation.
Duke shoveled a healthy portion of lasagna in his mouth and swallowe
d audibly. “Oh, we met at the Sugar Bomb. Wanda was in for Amateur Night, and it was love at first sight.”
“Mother!” Mom gasped.
“Oh, Becky,” Grandma sighed, “you always were such a prude.”
Duke’s revelation stunned Hayley and I into silence and temporarily derailed the Interrogation. Finally, I recovered enough to continue. “What’s your family like?” That seemed like a safe subject. Duke picked something out of his teeth with his pinky finger. Charming. “Well, my mom designs lingerie for plus sized women. She sells it on Etsy. You’d be amazed at what a big market that is,” Duke grinned at his pun. “My dad sells used vacuum cleaners.”
“Is there a market for that?” Dad asked politely.
“Not really.” Duke shrugged.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Mom asked, still trying to recover from the Sugar Bomb bomb.
“One of each,” Duke said. “Birmingham works for the Union Pacific railroad, and Millie is still in college.”
“Birmingham is certainly an interesting name,” Dad commented.
Duke took a long swig of his root beer and nodded. “Mom and Dad believed in giving us really meaningful names,” he said.
“I’m named after the university they met at. Mom grew up in Birmingham and Dad grew up in Milwaukee.”
Hayley and I exchanged glances. We had never ended an Interrogation so quickly, but I wasn’t sure we could take anymore of this getting to know you stuff with Duke. I cleared my throat.
“So, um, Mom, do you need any help with dessert?”
Mom looked immensely relieved to have a reason to get up.
“No, thank you, sweetheart. Does everyone want some ice cream with their apple strudel?”
Everyone agreed and the rest of dinner passed without incident or further embarrassing revelations. One thing was for certain, we hadn’t seen the last of Duke. He was a current fixture in Grandma’s life for the time being.
Chapter Four
A few days later Maggie convinced me to go to another basketball game, this one after school. Kaylee promised to join us after she had a meeting about costumes for the show. The seamstress, Mrs. Colter, loved to do preliminary sketches of the costumes as soon as she got the new script. I knew Kaylee wouldn’t make an appearance at the game, so my choices of seating partners were limited once again.