by Jewel Allen
“Of course.”
They arranged for Luke to meet Madison at her hotel. Sally breezed out, looking extremely pleased.
Once alone, Luke shook his head. How’d that woman bamboozle him into saying yes to this job himself?
Because he was still a dope about Madison after all these years, that’s why.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection on the mirrored wall. Perfectly tailored suit, clipped beard and longish, but still professionally groomed hair, impeccable shoes. The little flash of amusement gave way to curiosity. He was nothing like the old Luke. Would she even recognize him? And how would he react to her?
He remembered seeing her for the first time, ten years ago, and a sudden yearning flooded his senses.
CHAPTER THREE
Ten years ago
Eighteen-year-old Luke Parker stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and swaggered late into English class. The only empty seat was on the third row. He walked between desks without looking left or right, and slid into the chair.
“Ah, you must be Mr. Parker,” the female teacher said.
Nobody ever called him Mr. Parker. Well, his dad did when he was drunk and mean.
“Luke, ma’am,” he said in the N’Orleans drawl he’d picked up from their last move, like some chameleon.
The girls in the classroom giggled. He glanced casually around the room and that’s when he saw the girl.
She was sitting on the front row, wearing a white dress and bright red cowboy boots. A sassy number with a long blond waterfall of hair. From her profile, he could tell she was gorgeous.
Probably one of those stuck-up cheerleaders.
Wait, would a cheerleader wear cowboy boots?
Why not? Sunnyridge, CO was the sticks.
Seeing the boots reminded him of how far his family had traveled this time from Louisiana for another iffy job for Dad to take in Colorado. The “sure-thing” business some dude had offered was bogus, Luke was sure. But Dad called the shots. Luke was just along for the ride, until he could bust out and go into the Army.
Another high school. Another semester. Heck, this one was even in the middle of the semester. He didn’t know how he’d catch up, but it didn’t really matter. Just going through the motions, he was so sick of it all. But he’d made a deal with his mom—graduate and he could do whatever the heck he pleased.
His eyes strayed again towards the cowgirl. All the other chicks in class were openly checking him out, but she hadn’t even once looked his way. It kind of irritated and intrigued him. He wanted to ball up a piece of paper and lob it her way, just to see what she would do. His hands itched to do that very thing, but he just drummed his fingers on his desk.
The teacher started handing back sheets of paper to the class. “Here’s your poetry from the last time. Good job. There were some really good ones.” He stopped in front of the cowgirl. “Very nice, Madison.”
So, her name was Madison.
“Thanks,” she said. Her voice was clear and carried well across the room. Not a cheerleader’s high-pitched one. It was a grown woman’s.
“Would you like to share it with the class?” the teacher asked.
In that voice? Yes, say yes.
But she said, “I’d just as soon not.”
“Sure,” the teacher said. “I understand.”
Luke was disappointed. He really wanted to see what the girl had to say. It was probably some cheesy poem to a boy. She looked like she could have a boyfriend. He was probably a cowboy, too, with humongous boots and a hat that got caught in doorways.
During the rest of the class, Luke just vaguely listened to others who were willing to share their poems. Some were okay. Some were pukey. Tons were super-cheesy. But his gaze kept returning to Madison, who sat with her profile turned down towards her desk, as though she wanted to hide out from the world.
At the end of class, he hoped to meet her. His brain sifted through a number of pick-up lines, but nothing felt right. When the bell rang, she stood and walked down the aisle his direction.
Yup. Definitely rodeo-queen material. Creamy skin, long lashes and full, pouty lips covered in delicious-looking gloss.
Her blue eyes met his and she paused in surprise. Something tugged at Luke, a sweetness that was nonexistent in his life. She cast her eyes down as she continued walking.
She was going to go past. He had to do something to get her attention.
He put his foot out and tripped her. As though in slow motion, he watched as she stumbled and recovered gracefully.
Okay, not his brightest move.
Turning, she clutched her books to her chest and glared. No more Miss Sweetness for him. He winked and she huffed off.
He made an impression all right.
***
Madison wished she hadn’t gone to the senior party at Rod Engar’s house that weekend. She couldn’t bear the pitying glances, the patronizing smiles, the whispers about her dad. But it was the last hurrah and some of her friends urged her to come. She promised herself she would leave after making an appearance.
She shouldered her way through the semi-dancing crowd, narrowly avoiding a sloshing of soda. A boy from the football team, Evan, or was it Ethan, approached her. They couldn’t really talk over the music. The speakers blared equal parts rock and static. Between the din and the stifling heat in the house despite multiple fans going at once, she was starting to get a migraine. Ten minutes later, she decided it was time to go.
“Leaving so soon?” Evan/Ethan yelled into her ear.
She nodded and shouted back, “I think I’m starting to get sick.”
Braving her way through the crowd once again, she reached the foyer and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. It was so much cooler and calmer out on the porch. The tension in her body loosened. She’d always liked the Engars’ front porch and now it tempted her to linger. It was a wraparound with rounded pillars. Its white paint flaked slightly. There were rocking chairs and magazines lay strewn on a rattan side table. Cushions spilled onto the floor.
Madison walked to the railing at the side of the porch and looked out, chewing a fingernail absent-mindedly. Past the wide, tree-lined street, the town was made up of the little hub of diners, post office, city hall and stores on historic Main Street. Neighborhoods and farmland in neat little rows formed the rest of it.
There was nothing like the country, with its open space and fresh air.
She took a deep breath and stopped short, gagging, as she caught a whiff of something unpleasant.
Cigarette smoke?
“Sorry, my bad,” a male voice to her left said, making her nearly jump.
The new kid from English class stood between a pillar and the railing, a smoldering cigarette butt between his fingers. Really, he wasn’t some kid anymore. His rock band t-shirt and faded jeans molded against lean muscle. With his rumpled hair and scruff, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.
He surveyed her with hooded brown eyes, like he had all the time in the world, and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
All instincts told her to run away.
She didn’t want to be around all that disgusting smoke, for one. He took the cigarette and flicked it onto the porch floor, grinding it with his sneakers. His worn-out shoe left the crushed butt and a gray streak on the floor board.
He grabbed her hand and studied her raw-looking skin. “You really shouldn’t chew your fingernails,” he said.
She snatched it back. “Smoking can kill you, you know.”
He shrugged. “We all die anyway.”
How dare he? How dare this, this punk, say something so dumb and flippant?
“Especially if you’re being stupid,” she bit off.
He just smiled lazily. “You know, you’d be even cuter if you smiled more. What are you? The spokesperson for the Anti-Fun campaign?”
Tears stung her eyes. She sucked in her breath to control the sudden rise of emotions. She didn’t owe him an explanation. Let him thin
k she was just a grump. But then part of her wanted him, wanted someone, to understand.
She whispered, “My dad is dying,” and instantly regretted it. He didn’t seem capable of any compassion.
To her surprise, his smirk faded and he rubbed his nape slowly. “Well, I’m a moron.” He paused. “Of what?”
She glanced back at Sunnyridge. She wished her life was orderly like that.
“Cancer,” she said.
He was silent for a long moment. “Did he smoke?”
“No.”
“That sucks.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That he didn’t smoke, or that he has cancer?”
“Take your pick.”
Madison would have turned then, without saying goodbye, but he said, “Listen. Can we start over? My jokes are lame, I know. I can’t even make myself laugh.”
It sounded like an apology. Madison wasn’t sure.
“Sorry I bit your head off,” she muttered.
“It sucks he has cancer,” he said softly.
She nodded her agreement, but she wasn’t ready to thaw out. Yet.
“My name is Luke Parker. Yours?”
“Madison Kay.”
“I watched an old, old movie in the most boring film class. The actor’s name was Danny Kaye. With an e at the end.”
“No, it’s not like that. No ‘e’.”
“So, Madison K-A-Y.” His eyes glinted. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“None of my business, huh?” he said.
You bet it’s not.
“If you have one,” he drawled once again in that semi-southern accent, “at least I would know the odds I’m up against.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“If you don’t have one, I’d ask you out.” He smiled cockily. His eyes held a challenge.
She could just shut him down. Just walk away. But she couldn’t tear her gaze from his dark brown eyes that focused on her like nothing else in the world mattered.
Where was he from? His southern accent seemed to come and go during their conversation, like he was just putting on an act. Why had he moved halfway through the last semester of his senior year? Who did that?
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she admitted.
What on earth possessed her to give him this little opening?
Surprise registered in his eyes. A slow smile formed on his lips. He looked younger, not as jaded. “So,” he said, “how about dinner tomorrow night?”
***
Luke couldn’t believe Madison said yes. And here he was, standing on her front porch to pick her up. He hadn’t felt this nervous around a girl in a long time.
When she opened the door, he sucked his breath in. She was simply stunning. Her blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders and the blue of her eyes, matching her denim shirt dress, drew him in.
“You look nice,” he said, when he remembered how to talk.
She gave him a little smile. “Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Can we take a minute and have you meet my parents?”
Great. The parents test. He’d fail it, badly, he was sure. He glanced down at his jeans to make sure they weren’t too ratty.
“You look just fine,” she said.
Something in her voice, a kindness, made him stare. Most girls he’d dated were kind of rough around the edges like him, full of sarcasm. Madison gazed at him innocently.
He sauntered into her house, which was huge. There was a white baby grand piano and a white guitar in the corner, like it was some concert hall. A large painting of a beautiful girl holding a hat in one hand and shielding her eyes with the other covered a two-story wall.
It was Madison.
He didn’t belong here. One look at him and her parents would sniff out his trailer trash background.
But it was too late. A woman was coming down the stairs. “This your date, sweetie?” she said.
She was shorter than Madison. Probably looked a lot like her daughter in her heyday. Unlike Madison, her voice was soft and high-pitched.
The mom shook his hand. He could do the respectful rigmarole like anyone. “Good to meet you, Ma’am,” he said.
Madison was looking at him kind of funny. As though she realized she’d made a mistake saying yes to going out with him, but it was too late. She was probably right. Asking her out was a stupid idea. He’d never fit in with a family who had a memorial for their daughter in their mansion. Like she was some kind of living saint.
There was a squeaking noise, and a man came out in a wheelchair, moving by a shuffling of his legs. He was bone-skinny and had no hair. Luke approached, not sure how to greet him. He had a cousin who had cancer and everyone had to use that sanitizer stuff that stung if you had even the smallest cut before they could go into his room.
Madison’s dad offered his hand so Luke shook it. He tried to let go, but the guy freaked him out by pulling him closer and looking into his eyes. Looking into his soul, or some such bunk.
Luke stared back. This is me, like it or not.
Madison’s dad leaned into his wheelchair, appearing satisfied, as the mom made small talk. It was like having to hit tennis balls left and right. Finally, it was all over. Either her mom was convinced he was good enough for their princess, or the dad didn’t have too long to live to outlast such an interrogation.
“Have fun,” the dad rasped out to Madison, who kissed his paper-thin cheek. Suddenly, Luke felt bad poking fun at the guy.
“Curfew’s ten,” Madison’s mom chirped.
As they left the house, Luke’s shirt was soaked with sweat. He wanted a smoke badly, but he resisted the urge. He got in the driver’s seat and noticed Madison was still standing at the curb, biting her lip.
Waiting for him to open her door.
Luke, you’re a loser.
He got out of the car and did the gentlemanly thing. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m not very good at this.”
Her cheeks turned pink as she slid onto the passenger seat. “No problem.”
Luke fired up the car engine. “Burgers okay?”
“I’m good with whatever,” she said.
He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. “I have just the place.” Minutes later, he pulled up at Grady’s, the town’s equivalent of a honky tonk bar.
“Love their burgers,” he said. “Don’t you?”
“I haven’t had them,” she said faintly. She looked apprehensive.
“What, you’ve never eaten here? First thing my folks and I tried.”
“My parents just, um, don’t approve of it.”
“Huh. Well you’re missing out.”
He came around to her side this time and helped her out. He caught a whiff of a sweet floral perfume as she stepped out to the curb and stood next to him, looking slightly dazed, as he felt. Goll, she was beautiful. She was all girl, waiting for him to lead her out, and her hand fit nicely in his. He stroked her smooth skin with his thumb, once, twice, and let his hungry glance fall to her mouth. Suddenly, he wished they weren’t going to this burger joint and were instead parked somewhere.
But she wasn’t that kind of girl, was his guess.
Besides, he was in no hurry. The night was young. He led her to Grady’s, opened the door, and in they went.
***
The sour smell of beer hit Madison full in the face as she entered the restaurant. The bar and a little pool hall was clear across the room, but everything about the place felt seedy, from the discolored linoleum and the chipped table tops. She’d never gotten good vibes about this place, so it was easy to follow her parents’ advice to stay way. Why had she said yes to a date with this guy?
She’d be polite and see this date through. They followed the hostess to a table. Madison waited for Luke to pull her chair out, but he just went ahead and sat down.
He glanced at her in surprise. “Something wrong?”
Her cheeks warmed. “A gentleman always pulls a chair out for a lady.”
He had kind of an incredulous expression on his face. She wished she hadn’t said anything. She really didn’t care, but her mother used to say that to her father and it just slipped out.
Too late, he stood and did as she said. As he slid the chair under her, he hovered close. “How about a kiss in payment?” he teased.
“Thank you,” she said primly, refusing to look at him. He chuckled on his way back to his chair.
She ordered a salad; he ordered a burger. When his food came, he picked out the onions and slathered his burger and fries with ketchup. “You live here all your life?” he asked, eating a mouthful of fries.
She nodded. “Where’d you move from?”
“All over,” he said. “New Orleans was the last place. Florida. Vegas. Goll, where haven’t I lived?”
About halfway through his burger, he glanced up and caught her watching him. “How’s the rabbit food?” he asked, his cheek bulging.
Did he really expect a response? She continued to chew and faked a smile.
He set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So you write poetry?” he asked. “Our teacher seemed to like your stuff.”
She was surprised he’d remember. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.”
“Your poem she praised in class, what was that about?”
She swirled the ice in her water. “Our small town, I guess.”
“For reals? Not much material there.”
“There’s a lot, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
She speared a forkful of salad. “You’ll just have to listen to one of my songs, won’t you?”
He whistled low. “You write songs?”
“Yup.”
“Let’s hear one.”
She winced. “I can’t just sing one. I need a guitar. Tell you what.” She paused. “I’ll be performing at the senior talent show tomorrow. Come and watch me.”
His gaze traveled over her face, his frank assessment making her feel exposed. “Oh, I will.”
He looked around, then turned back to her. “Hey, come ‘ere.”
Madison worried he was going to take her to the pool hall, but instead, he led her to an old-fashioned jukebox with flashing lights.