Sara went up the drive, passing the truck. A large orange stripe went down the side, with the words “Auburn Tigers” painted in blue. There was an orange flag with a blue paw print on it swaying by the front door. She noticed the mailbox was painted orange and blue, too. Apparently, someone in the house was a college football fan.
Without warning, a small dog ran up the sidewalk and jumped at her, putting his dirty paws on Sara’s skirt. She told him, “No,” to no avail, then finally knelt down to pet the overly excited animal so he would stop jumping.
The dog barked, and Sara tried not to gag at his breath. She stroked back the fur on its head, thinking she had never seen an uglier animal in her life. Halfway down his back, he had curly hair like a poodle, but the fur on his legs was wiry like a terrier’s. The coloring was an ungodly mixture of black, gray, and tan. His eyes bugged out as if someone were squeezing his testicles, even though a quick check proved he didn’t have any. The check also revealed he was a she.
Sara stood, trying to brush the paw prints off her skirt. Georgia clay didn’t have a thing on Alabama dirt, and nothing short of a long soak would take the stains out.
“Zaftig!” a man called from the driveway, and Sara felt herself blush crimson until she realized the man was not talking to her.
He held a shopping bag in one hand and patted his leg with the other. “Tig! Come’re, girl.” The dog did not leave Sara’s side, and the man laughed good-naturedly as he walked across the front yard. He stopped in front of Sara, giving a low whistle as he looked her up and down. “Darlin’, if you’re one a them Jehova’s Witnesses, I’m ready to convert.”
The front door banged open, and a dark-haired woman around Sara’s age walked outside. “Don’t listen to that fool,” she told Sara, giving her the once-over with considerably less appreciation than the man had showed. “Sara, right?”
“Uh,” Sara stammered. “Right.”
“I’m Darnell, but everybody calls me Nell. This’n’s my husband, Jerry.”
“Call me Possum,” he said, tipping his orange and blue baseball cap.
Confused, Sara told them, “Nice to meet you both.”
“Ma’am.” Possum tipped his hat again before heading into the house.
Nell let the dog in, but not Sara. “So,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb. “You’re Jeffrey’s new thing?”
Sara could not tell if she was joking, but she had had enough of this sort of treatment in Grant. She crossed her arms, resigned. “I suppose so.”
Nell twisted her lips to the side, still not finished. “Are you a stewardess or a stripper?”
Sara barked a laugh, but stopped when Nell didn’t join in. She squared her shoulders, choosing “Stripper” because it sounded more exotic.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Jeffrey said you work with children.”
Sara tried to think of something witty, but could only come up with “I use balloon animals in my act.”
“Right.” Nell finally stepped aside. “They’re all in the back.”
Sara walked into the living room of the modest home, which contained more Auburn paraphernalia than was probably legal. Pom-poms and pennant flags draped the fireplace, and a framed jersey with the number seventeen hung over the mantel. Under a glass dome on the coffee table was a small village that must have resembled the university campus. A rack held several college football magazines, and even the lampshade had an orange and blue AU logo painted on it.
Nell led her down a hall toward the back door, but Sara stopped in front of a framed magazine cover. Underneath the SEC Monthly banner was a picture of Jeffrey standing at the fifty-yard line. His hair was longer and his mustache dated the picture by about fifteen years. He was wearing a blue jersey and rested his sneaker on a football. The type at the bottom said, “The Next Big Thing for the Tigers?”
Before she could stop herself, Sara asked, “He played for Auburn?”
Darnell finally laughed. “He got you into bed without showing you his Sugar Bowl ring?” she asked, managing to make Sara sound stupid and loose at the same time.
“Hey,” Jeffrey said, coming in a little too late for Sara’s liking. He was holding a bottle of beer in his hand. “I see y’all met.”
Nell said, “You didn’t tell me she was a stripper, Slick.”
“Only weekends,” he said, handing Nell the beer. “Just until she gets on full-time with the airline.”
Sara tried to catch his eye to tell him she wanted to get the hell out of here, but either Jeffrey had not learned to read her signs in the last few months or he was fully aware of the treatment she was getting and did not mind a bit. His shit-eating grin told her the truth of the matter.
Jeffrey threw his arm around her, dragging her close and kissing her head. It felt more like he was telling her to be a good sport than anything else, and Sara pinched the fire out of the back of his arm to let him know she was not up for that kind of play.
He winced, rubbing his arm. “Nell, can you give us a minute?”
Nell walked down the hall and went into what was probably the kitchen. Outside the open back door, Sara could see a pool in the yard with another couple sitting around in beach chairs. In the distance, a dog was barking. Possum stood behind a grill with a long fork in his hand, and he waved at them both through the screen door.
Sara said, “This detour seems a little planned to me.”
“Sorry?”
She kept her voice low, mindful that Nell was probably listening. “Is this part of the indoctrination for all your new things?”
“My what?”
She indicated the kitchen. “That’s what your friend called me.”
To his credit, he looked annoyed. “She’s just—”
“Thinking I’m one of your sluts?” Sara finished, her throat straining even as she whispered. “Because that’s what she pretty much said, that I’m one of your sluts.”
He tried his smile again. “Sara, honey—”
“Don’t you dare call me that, you asshole.”
“I didn’t—”
She fought to keep her tone low. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, dragging me all the way down here below the damn Gnat Line just to embarrass me, but I don’t appreciate it and you’ve got about two seconds to say goodbye to these people, because I’m driving back to Grant right now and I don’t give a damn whether you’re in the car or not.”
About three seconds passed before he burst into laughter. “My God,” he said. “That’s more than you’ve said to me the entire trip.”
Sara was so furious that she punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could.
“Ow,” he said, rubbing the spot.
“Mr. Big Football Player can’t take a hit?” She punched him again. “Why didn’t you tell me you played football?”
“I thought everybody knew.”
“How would I know that?” she demanded. “Rhonda at the bank?” He grabbed her hand before she could punch him again. “That slut at the sign shop?” She tried to get her hand back but he held her too tightly.
“Honey—” He stopped himself with a grin that said he was humoring her. “Sara.”
“You think I don’t know you’ve screwed practically every woman in town?”
He took on a wounded look. “They were just place-holders while I waited for you.”
“You are so full of shit.”
He stepped toward her, reaching out to put his hands on her waist. “Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?”
She tried to push him away, but he backed her toward the wall. Sara felt the familiar weight of his body press into her, but all she could think about was the fact that his friends were right outside the door watching. She expected him to give her a passionate kiss or make some other show of his manly prowess, followed by a victory lap around the pool and a high-five from Possum, but all he did was kiss her forehead and say, “I haven’t been back here in six years.”
She stared at him, mostly beca
use his face was less than two inches away from hers.
Suddenly, the door banged open, and one of the most gorgeous men Sara had seen outside of a fashion magazine sauntered into the house. He was as tall as Jeffrey but with broader shoulders and more swagger.
When he opened his mouth, he spoke with the sexiest Southern drawl Sara had every heard. “You too scared to introduce me to your new girl, Slick?”
“Course not,” Jeffrey said, slipping a proprietary arm around Sara’s waist. “Honey, this is Spot. He and Possum were my best friends growing up.”
“Still waiting on this one to finish,” the man said, feigning a punch at Jeffrey. “And it’s Robert now.”
Possum called from outside, “One ’a y’all fetch me them burgers from the fridge.”
Robert said, “Slick, why don’t you handle that?” then took Sara by the arm and led her down the hall before Jeffrey could stop them.
Robert opened the screen door for Sara, asking, “How was your trip over?”
“Good,” she told him, though that was debatable. She cast about for something positive to say. “My God, what a gorgeous yard.”
Possum beamed. “Nell loves being outside.”
“It shows,” Sara said, meaning it. Lush flowers bloomed all over the place, spilling out of pots on the deck, climbing up the wooden fence. A huge magnolia tree shaded a hammock at the back of the yard, and several holly trees added contrast to the fence line. Except for the barking dogs next door, the yard was an oasis.
“Whoa,” Robert said, bumping into her as the dog shot past them.
“Tig!” Possum yelled halfheartedly as the dog dove into the pool. She swam a lap across, climbed out, then rolled around in the grass, kicking her legs in the air.
“Man,” Possum said. “What I wouldn’t do for that life.”
The woman sitting by the pool looked over her shoulder. “She learned everything from Jeffrey.” She indicated the chair beside her. “Come sit by me, Sara. I’m not as horrible as Nell.”
Sara gladly took the offer.
“Jessie,” the woman introduced herself. She indicated Robert with a lazy wave of her hand. “That specimen’s my husband.” She pronounced the word “huzz-bun,” managing with her tone to make it sound slightly pornographic.
Sara offered, “He seems nice.”
“They all do at first,” she said offhandedly. “How long have you known Slick?”
“Not long,” Sara confessed, wondering if everyone here had a nickname. She was getting the distinct impression that Jessie was probably worse than Nell. She was just more polite about it. Judging by the woman’s breath, a liberal dose of alcohol was responsible for her mellow tone.
“They’re all a tight little group,” Jessie commented, leaning over to pick up a glass of wine. “I’m new in town, which means I’ve only been here twenty years. I moved from LA during my freshman year.”
Sara guessed from her accent she meant Lower Alabama.
“Robert’s a cop, just like Jeffrey. Isn’t that nice? I call ’em Mutt and Jeff, only Jeffrey hates being called Jeff.” She took a healthy swallow of wine. “Possum runs the store over by the Tasty Dog. You should meet his and Nell’s children, especially the oldest. He’s a beautiful little boy. Children are such a joy to have around. Isn’t that right, Bob?”
“What’s that, sugar?” Robert asked, though Sara was certain he had heard her.
Nell sat down beside Sara, handing her a bottle of beer. “Peace offering,” she said.
Sara took it, though beer had always tasted like swill to her. She forced herself to make an effort, saying, “You’ve got a beautiful yard.”
Nell inhaled deeply, then exhaled, “The azaleas bloomed and went away quicker than spit. Neighbor’s never home to take care of his dogs so they bark all day. I can’t get rid of the fire ants by the hammock and Jared keeps coming in with poison ivy, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out where he’s getting it.” She paused for another breath. “But thank you. I try.”
Sara turned to include Jessie in the conversation, but the other woman’s eyes were closed.
“She’s probably passed out.” Nell fanned herself with her hand. “God, I was such a bitch to you.”
Sara did not argue.
“I’m not normally so testy. If Jessie was awake, she’d tell you otherwise, but you can’t trust a woman who drinks a whole bottle of wine before four in the afternoon, and I’m not just talking on Sundays.” She swatted a fly. “She tell you about being new here?”
Sara nodded, trying to keep up.
“You should be glad she passed out. Couple’a more minutes she’d be telling you how she always depends on the kindness of strangers.”
Sara took a sip of beer.
“Slick hasn’t been back here in forever. Left town like he was running through hell with gasoline britches on.” She paused. “I guess I was mad at him and took it out on you.” She put her hand on Sara’s chair. “What I’m saying is I’m sorry I showed my ass.”
“Thank you for apologizing.”
“I near about cracked up when you said that about the balloon animals.” She laughed. “He told me you were a doctor, but I didn’t believe him.”
“Pediatrician,” Sara confirmed.
Nell sat back in the chair. “You have to be smart to get into medical school, right?”
“Pretty much.”
She nodded appreciatively. “Then I’ll assume you know what you’re doing with Jeffrey.”
“Thank you,” Sara told her, and meant it. “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s said that.”
Nell turned serious, looking at Sara with something like pity. “Don’t be surprised if I’m the last.”
Chapter Six
During the five hours she spent at Nell’s, Sara found out more about Jeffrey Tolliver than she had in three months of dating him. Jeffrey’s mother was a confirmed alcoholic and his father was serving time in prison for something no one was very specific about. Jeffrey had dropped out of Auburn two classes away from graduating and joined the police force without telling anybody why. He was an excellent dancer and he hated lima beans. He was definitely not the marrying kind, but Sara did not need Nell to tell her this. Jeffrey radiated the words “confirmed bachelor.”
Considering Nell had managed to mumble most of these details under her breath during a particularly competitive game of Trivial Pursuit, Sara was only privy to the headlines and none of the details behind them. It was pitch dark by the time they left the group, and as Sara and Jeffrey walked down the street toward his mother’s house, she tried to think of a way to find out more.
She settled on “So, what does your mother do?”
“Different things,” he said, not offering anything else.
“And your dad?”
He switched her suitcase to his other hand and wrapped his arm around her. “You seem like you had a good time tonight.”
“Nell’s just full of insight.”
“She likes the sound of her own voice.” He slid his hand to her hip. “I wouldn’t believe everything she says.”
“Why is that?”
His hand slid lower as he nuzzled her neck. “You smell good.”
She got the message, but did not exactly change the subject. “Are you sure your mother won’t mind us staying over?”
“I called her from Nell’s a few hours ago,” Jeffrey said. “You remember when Nell was telling you my life story?” He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what had been going on with Nell, though Sara had to assume Jeffrey would not have taken her to meet his friends without knowing exactly what would happen.
She decided to call him on it. “This is a pretty cheap way for me to find out all about your life without you having to say a word.”
“I told you, I wouldn’t believe everything Nell has to say.”
“She’s known you since you were both six.”
“She’s not exactly my biggest fan.”
Sara fin
ally picked up on the tension between them. “Don’t tell me you dated her, too?”
He didn’t answer, which she took for an affirmation. “It’s right here,” he said, indicating a house with a beat-up Chevy Impala parked in the driveway. Even though Jeffrey had called ahead, his mother hadn’t bothered to leave on any lights for them. The house was completely dark.
Sara hesitated. “Shouldn’t we stay in a hotel?”
He laughed, helping her as her foot caught on some loose gravel. “There aren’t any hotels here except the one behind the bar that truck drivers rent by the hour.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“Maybe for some of them,” he suggested, leading her up the front steps. Even in the darkness, Sara could tell the house was one of the ones that had been allowed to fall into disrepair. Jeffrey warned her, “Watch that board,” as he slid his hand along the top of the door-frame.
“She locks her door?”
“We were robbed when I was twelve,” he explained, jiggling the key in the lock. “She’s lived in fear ever since.” The door stuck at the bottom and he used his foot to push it open. “Welcome.”
The smell of nicotine and alcohol was overwhelming, and Sara was glad the darkness hid her expression. The house was stifling and she could not imagine spending the night, let alone living here.
“It’s okay,” he said, indicating she should go in.
She lowered her voice, “Shouldn’t we be quiet?”
“She can sleep through a hurricane,” Jeffrey said, closing the door behind him. He locked it with the key, then, judging from the sound, dropped the key into a glass bowl.
Sara felt his hand on her elbow. “Back this way,” he said, walking close behind her. She took about four steps through the front room before she felt the dining room table in front of her. Three more steps and Sara was in a small hallway, where a nightlight revealed a bathroom in front of her and two closed doors on either side. He opened the door on the right and followed her through, closing the door again before he turned on the light.
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