Joyride

by Anna Banks

  I waste no time in confronting him when he hangs up. “Someone’s coming to get us? So we’re definitely, absolutely stuck.”

  He rolls his eyes. “The word ‘stuck’ implies that our situation is permanent. That’s not the case. Betty would have gotten us out of it eventually, but since we’re the only ones not at the party, I thought you’d want me to get us there quicker.”

  Oh, right. I’d want to get to a party full of his obnoxious friends quicker. I’m not even sure why I’m coming—except that he’s been doing his part of the bargain. He’s actually been studying and doing his homework every day. In exchange, I’m trying to make an effort to get to know his friends. I mean, we sit with them at lunch sometimes. That’s enough for me, frankly. But a tailgate party in the middle of the muddy woods with a bunch of rich kids? No thanks. Still, Arden thought it was a good idea to let our friends—his friends, since I don’t have any—“acclimate” to our new relationship.

  I can’t tell if this is a test for me or a test for them. Maybe both. Or maybe Arden is testing out whether or not he can adjust to having a girlfriend. Either way, I’m stuck going. He actually got an A on his last social studies test—I owe him this much.

  “That’s very considerate of you.”

  He smirks at me. “Do I get a reward for being considerate?”

  I inch across the bench seat, until there’s no space left between his lips and mine. He pulls me into his lap to get a better hold on me. That’s how his friend Braden finds us a few minutes later—or how he would have found us if not for the dirty windows. Maybe mudding has its benefits after all.

  Arden waits for me to move back to my seat before opening the driver’s side door and greeting his friend. I think Braden is on the football team—he’s certainly big enough to be—but I’m not sure. Braden stands at the edge of the “puddle” we’re not stuck in. He’s got a big chain in his hand, which ends in a big hook.

  Arden balances himself between the door and the truck and pulls himself up onto the roof. Getting dirty is inevitable at this point, but I guess it’s better than actually walking around in what looks like several feet deep of red clay. When he maneuvers onto the hood of Betty, Braden carefully tosses him the chain, which Arden catches with the grace of an old pro. Arden crawls to the front and leans forward with the chain. After a few grunts and shifts, he’s crawling back into the truck cabin.

  “Braden’s going to pull us out,” he says cheerfully.

  I wipe some of the orange mud off his arm, then rub my hand on the seat between us. “Braden is nice?” I say without looking at him. He must be somewhat civilized if he’s willing to leave a party to come tow his friend out of a mudhole.

  Arden puts his hand over mine. “They’re all nice, Carly. Once you get to know them.”

  When we finally get to the party—which turns out to be a clearing in the woods with a bunch of trucks backed up to what looks like an actual pond of mud—I’m mortified to find that I should have worn a bathing suit. All the girls, every single one, are wearing bikinis. Small bikinis. Microscopic bikinis.

  “You didn’t say anything about swimming,” I accuse Arden.

  “There’s nowhere to swim here.”

  “Please tell me they’re not mud-wrestling. I swear I’ll bludgeon you, right here and now.”

  He presses his lips together. “August ended like, yesterday, Carly. It’s still hot out. They like to wear their bathing suits. It’s not a big deal.”

  But it is a big deal. I’m in a T-shirt and shorts. I’m already different from them in so many ways. Couldn’t he have just prepared me for this one thing? “I could have worn my swimsuit.”

  “I’ve seen you in your swimsuit, Carly. And there’s no way you’re wearing it around this bunch of perverts.”

  I grin. Also, I blush. “You did it on purpose? To, like, protect my honor or something?”

  “I’m protecting their noses from my fist.” He sounds gruff and agitated, and it’s adorable.

  “I’ve never seen a jealous Arden Moss.”

  “Take a good look,” he says, giving in to the slightest of smiles. He lifts me out of the truck then, pressing me into him before letting my feet touch the ground, so that I slide down the length of him.

  It’s definitely hot out.

  “Hey, Arden,” a girl calls out. “It’s about time you showed up. Where have you been lately?”

  He nods to the voice behind me. “Hey, Jen,” he says with too much familiarity. Or is it just me being jealous now? “I’ve been around.”

  Does he have a past with this Jen? Does he have a past with every girl here? How am I supposed to not think about that now? I know his reputation. I know the rumors. But I haven’t directly asked him about any of it. Clearly I was in denial. Because now I want to know all of the things.

  “Let’s go to Chris’s truck and get some food. He usually brings a grill, and I’m starving,” Arden says, taking my hand and hauling me behind him. “You like hot dogs and chips and other gourmet items, right?”

  “I eat school lunches,” I tell him. “I got this.”

  We find an empty tailgate and manage to hoist ourselves up on it without spilling the contents of our Styrofoam plates. Everyone who walks by greets Arden—a few people even know my name, at which I’m impressed.

  “The new will wear off soon,” Arden says quietly. “Just give them some time.”

  “How many of these girls have you been with?” Yep, I just said that out loud.

  He pauses before taking a bite of his second hot dog. He gives me a quizzical look. “Not everything you hear about me is true.”

  I nod. “How many?”

  “Not as many as you think.”

  We’re quiet for a while, and I try to decipher his answer into actual numbers. I watch the girls in the bikinis watch Arden, and the general consensus seems to be Why is he here with her? That, or I’m letting my imagination run rampant and free.

  Either way, I’m in a pretty terrible mood by the time we’re done eating.

  “You want to go watch the trucks climb out of the pit?” He motions toward a hill ahead of us, behind which all sorts of trucks come and go. We’ll have to walk halfway around the “pond” to get there.

  “Sure.”

  He hops off the back of the truck, and his hands are at my waist, ready to lift me down, when Braden walks up, a pretty blond girl wrapped around him piggyback style. He sets her on the ground. “Hi,” she says to me. “Carly, right? I’m Eve.” She holds out her hand and we have an awkward shake.

  Eve looks at Arden. “We should all get together sometime. How about a movie on Friday?”

  He looks at me. I can’t tell what it is he wants me to say. His expression is expectant though, so he definitely thinks I should say something. “I actually have to work Friday,” I tell her.

  “Oh,” she says. “Well, how about we go to the beach Saturday?”

  “I work Saturday too.” I try to sound apologetic. I don’t think Eve has to work to get the money for her highlights or her perfect French manicure.

  “Sunday?” she asks inevitably.

  “Actually, Carly works a lot,” Arden says. “I’m lucky I could steal her away for today.”

  He is lucky. I took the night off at the Breeze to come with him this afternoon. I can’t do that every time his friends want to get together though. And I especially can’t miss my weekend shifts at the Uppity Rooster.

  Not to mention I don’t want to spend my time with these people. Eve seems nice enough, but there’s the whole problem with getting to know someone too well. They’ll eventually ask questions about why I work so much. They’ll ask questions about my parents, like Arden did at first. But unlike Arden, they might not drop the subject when I want them to.

  Coming here was not a good idea.

  “I’m sure we can make it work some other time,” Braden says, giving me an encouraging smile. I could probably learn to like Braden. To like Eve. But that’s a dangerous thi
ng to contemplate.

  “Hopefully,” I say a little too late. I feel Arden staring at me. But this is partly his fault. I told him I wasn’t good in social situations.

  “Alright, man,” Braden says, looking back at Arden. “We’ll catch you later.”

  After they’re gone, Arden pulls me behind one of the trucks. “How’s it going?” he says, brushing the back of his hand along my cheek. “Everything okay?”

  I push it away, feeling like a brat as I do it. “I don’t think this is going to work out, Arden.”

  He visibly stiffens in front of me. “What do you mean?” There’s a bit of raw panic in his voice.

  “I mean us. Together. It will never work.”

  “It already is working.”

  “Arden.” I cross my arms and move away from him when he reaches for me again. “Arden, I’ve already cut all the shifts I can cut. How can you have a girlfriend who isn’t around to actually be your girlfriend? I can’t go to the movies every Friday night and to the beach every weekend.”

  “I think you’re getting things confused,” he says. “You’re my girlfriend. Not their girlfriend. What do I care if you can’t hang out with them?” He takes a cautious step toward me and I let him.

  “But don’t you want to be a normal couple? Do normal couple things?”

  “Carly, you pulled a gun on me the first time I met you. I don’t think ‘normal’ is in the cards for us.” This time I let him pull me to him. He tucks my head under his chin. I can’t help but notice the contented sigh he lets out.

  “What did you do with your other girlfriends? I mean, besides, you know…”

  He laughs into my hair. “I haven’t called anyone my girlfriend since, like, the third grade. And even then, it was sketchy.”

  I giggle into his chest. “I just don’t want you to have any regrets with me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

  He lifts my chin with the crook of his finger. “You’ve filled a hole I didn’t know I had in me, Carly. What is there to regret?”

  His mouth covers mine.

  Twenty

  Arden pulls up to the front steps of Uncle Cletus’s house and honks the horn. Cletus opens the door immediately, as if he’s been watching for Arden’s truck. He probably has been.

  The morning is beautiful and fresh, with tendrils of sunlight shining down through the oak trees in the front lawn. When Cletus gets in the truck, he comments on as much. “Good day to go out,” he grumbles, as if he’d said the opposite.

  But Arden knows he’s excited to be going to breakfast with him. Because he’s excited to be seeing Carly. “You already know what you’re going to order?”

  Cletus scoffs. “I haven’t been to the Uppity Rooster in decades, boy. Probably changed the menu twenty times since then.”

  “They have coffee. Looks like you could use a pot of that.”

  “You know what that place is full of?”

  “What?”

  “Cocks.”

  Arden swerves slightly in the driveway. “Come again?”

  Pure glee shines in Cletus’s eyes. “Cocks, boy. Roosters. Miss May was obsessed with ’em, if you know what I mean.”

  “Nice, old man. Nice.”

  The drive is a short, talkative one. Cletus remarks again on how nice the weather is, how much moonshine he just purchased, and how horrible but potent it is.

  “Tastes like sweaty butt crack,” Cletus insists. “But it gets the job done.”

  They pull into the Uppity Rooster Café and Arden revs the truck engine to let Carly know they’ve arrived. This earns a disapproving look from Uncle Cletus. “Is that supposed to be some sort of mating call, boy?”

  The hostess seats them in Carly’s section. She waves to them from behind the drink station, and signals that she’ll be with them in a minute. Arden acknowledges with what he knows is a cheesy grin.

  “Oh no,” Cletus says. “You’re dating her, aren’t you, boy.”

  Arden didn’t plan on having this conversation with his uncle just yet. That is to say, he had planned on having it in a different way—a way in which he started and finished it. “So what if I am?” Nice way to begin maturely.

  “Just in case you’re unaware, son, she’s too good for you.”

  “She doesn’t seem to think so.”

  Cletus waves his hand in dismissal. “Psh. They never realize it.”

  “You’re the one who’s always talking about how smart she is. Can’t be that smart if she’s dating me.” Wait, what?

  “Smart people make stupid mistakes.”

  Carly arrives then. Her hair is swept back in a messy bun and her cheeks are an alluring pink. Arden’s not sure she could be unattractive if she tried. “Sorry about that. I have a party table in the back. What can I get y’all to drink?”

  Arden loves it when she says “y’all.” It means he’s rubbing off on her. “I’ll have my usual.”

  “Sweet tea it is. Uncle Cletus?”

  Cletus seems enchanted that she’s calling him Uncle Cletus instead of Mr. Shackleford now. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary. More Mary than Bloody, if you know what I mean.”

  “Gross. But okay.”

  She disappears again, and Cletus wastes no time in resuming the conversation. “End it, Arden. For God’s sake. What would your father say?”

  “You know I don’t care what he thinks.”

  “You know I don’t care what that S-O-B thinks either. You know what I’m talking about. Does he know?” There has never been any love lost between Cletus and Sheriff Moss. Cletus was against his niece marrying Arden’s father from day one; even back then, he knew Dwayne Moss was a punk.

  And Cletus knows the depths of the sheriff’s racism. That’s why he retired from the county when he did. Arden’s father was already developing his platform to run for sheriff. And Cletus would be damned if he sat by and watched it happen on his shift.

  “Unfortunately, he does,” Arden says. He feels his jaw locking, remembering what happened that night. “He’s already expressed his disapproval.”

  Cletus balls his fists. “What did he say? No, don’t tell me. That nitwit. Does Carly know how he feels?”

  Arden feels the blood draining from his face. “She was there when he expressed his sentiments.”

  “You took her to your house, didn’t you? Are you stupid, boy?”

  “Yes.”

  Cletus nods, satisfied. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all. If he would have hurt her—”

  “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

  “But if he had? I would put my fist through his skull. That’s what I would do. And I trust you to do the same.”

  “He won’t lay a hand on her.”

  “And what about you? You thinking about putting your grubby hands on her like you do all the rest of them senseless girls?”

  “I’m in love with her.” Now the blood rushes back into his cheeks. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. He feels relieved and burdened at the same time.

  A slow grin crawls over Cletus’s face. “You are, aren’t you.”

  “Bad. Really bad.”

  Carly comes back then, and sets the drinks down in front of them. “Do you guys know what you want? If you hurry, I can get your order in before the big party. It’s a bridal shower, so they’re sipping on mimosas right now.” She leans down then and whispers to Arden, “Huge money, hopefully.”

  Cletus has a gleam in his eye as he says, “I don’t know what the fancy name for it is, but I’ll have scrambled eggs and bacon and some biscuits and gravy.”

  This takes Arden off guard. He didn’t expect Cletus to be ready to order yet. Or to be so … alert. “I’ll have pancakes.”

  “Bananas Foster?” Carly says.

  “Sure.” Whatever that means.

  “You have no idea what that is, do you.”

  “Nope.”

  “Plain pancakes then?”

  “Yep.”

  She smiles. “Will do.” She grabs
the menus and saunters away, as if she knows what he’s just admitted to.

  “Please. Don’t,” Arden says quietly.

  Cletus chuckles. “You don’t think she’s got you figured out?”

  “No. You think?”

  “Well, look at you. Giving her a ride to work on the weekends. I’ll bet you check on her every night at that dumpy convenience store, don’t you?”

  “Nothing that you didn’t used to do.” And, if it weren’t for Arden scaring the life out of him, he would still be doing it.

  Cletus ignores the jab. “Spending every waking minute with her. And when you’re not, you’re at my house keeping busy, until you can spend your next waking minutes with her.”

  It’s obvious. So obvious. But does she really know? And what if she does? “Should I just come out and tell her?” And what’s with asking an old man for love advice?

  Cletus moves the giant celery stalk out of the way before taking a big swallow of his Bloody Mary. He contemplates. “I don’t think so. I think you should just show her. That’s always the best route.”

  “But don’t girls like it when you say it?” He wouldn’t know. He’s never told a girl he loved her before. He’s never had to. He’s never wanted to. Girls have always been easy creatures to decipher, up until this point. Compliment them on their hair or lip gloss, spend a little money on them—and when all else fails, kiss them senseless.

  But Carly is a whole different species of girl. She’s the bloodhound of false compliments, she hates wasting money, and the only thing he’s sure of is that she’s the one who kisses him senseless.

  As far as being a guy goes, he’s completely failing.

  Cletus must perceive his desperation. “Boy, get it together. I may not know much about what a woman of today’s world wants or needs. But I do know women in general don’t like a groveling mess, that’s for dang sure.”

  Arden sits up straighter. “I’m not a mess.”

  “You need a mirror then?”

  “You started this conversation.”

  “Shut up, son. Here she comes.”

  Carly motions for Arden to scoot over so she can sit next to him in the booth. After the conversation he just had with his uncle, it feels like he’s sitting next to an open flame. “I got your order in before our lovely bridesmaids,” she brags. “Their bill is easily going to be five hundred bucks. You think I should auto-gratuity them, or take my chances?”