Keys and Kisses: Untouchable Book Three

by Long, Heather

  The guys had been in earlier—well, three of them. Ian was still a no show, and I forced myself to focus on something else. Radio silence on his part was unusual. The fact Jake, Archie, and Coop avoided mentioning him was also telling. Shake finished, I dropped it off and let the customers know someone else would be looking after them and wished them a great rest of their day.

  A couple of minutes later, I weaved past the cooks on the line and headed past the freezer to Marsha’s office. Her door was open, and music spilled out. The familiar country twang was not my first choice, but my boss tended to listen to it while doing paperwork. It kept her relaxed.

  Or so she claimed. The tears in my beer and the truck took off with the horse tunes tended to wax and wane between desperately sad and almost painfully upbeat about how awful life was—different strokes for different folks. Better that than focus on the fact the pitiful woman described in the current song could be me.

  “Come on in,” Marsha said, pushing her rolling chair back as I slid into the office. She reached around me and hooked the door closed. “Did you grab yourself a drink?”

  “I’m good,” I assured her. Seriously, I was more tired than hungry or thirsty. Jake was supposed to meet me later for a date, but he hadn’t mentioned what we were doing, and I was kind of hoping for enough time to make a side trip beforehand—even if I smelled like burgers.

  “Well, sit down then,” Marsha said, waving me toward the hardback chair propped next to her desk. The cushion was old vinyl, and there was a split in it from years of use. Weirdly, this was more comforting than the bad music, which she thankfully turned down.

  “Okay,” she said after I perched. I still had on my work apron with the order pad and tips in my pockets. It needed to be washed, but I’d deal with that later.

  Despite the awkward beginning, Marsha didn’t continue. I raised my brows. “Okay?”

  With a smile that creased her cheeks and a half-laugh, she said, “You got a dress last night?”

  “Oh, yeah. I did.” I’d mentioned going out the day before.

  “Well c’mon, let’s see it.” Enthusiasm churned in every word. I gaped for a second, but she made grabby hand motions, and I laughed.

  “Yeah, Coop went with me, and he took a lot of pictures…” Dragging out my phone, I stole a look at Ian’s text thread, it was still dark, no red numbers. Swallowing that lump, I tabbed down to Coop’s thread. There were a couple of quick messages. One was a question about lit and the other was just a random what are you wearing googly-eyed emoji text.

  Dork.

  I scrolled up to find the photos he’d sent and clicked the red dress before I turned it to show Marsha.

  “Oh. I love it.” Taking possession of my phone, she blew up a couple of areas to get a look at it. “Did you get shoes? Jewelry? What are your plans for your hair?”

  The rapid-fire questions had me gaping all over again. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to get shoes. Cheryl told me a couple of places to go, and one that will dye the shoes to match the shade of the dress, and I guess—I’ve got a couple of necklaces that might work.”

  Jewelry really wasn’t my thing.

  Eyeing me, Marsha tutted before she handed me the phone back, then reached for a sticky note and scrawled some information. “Go to these shops, they’re over off third near the old downtown. They look like junk shops, trust me when I say they aren’t. They’re vintage stores, and they have some of the best items you’ve ever seen. If you go into Coat Rack…” Apparently, the name of one of the not-junk stores. “Ask for Carol. She has the best eye and knows every piece in her shop. Show her the dress, and she’ll find the most adorable items to accessorize it with.”

  Tapping her pen against her lower lip, Marsha considered me.

  “If I’m being too nosy, tell me, but let’s talk hair and make-up, do you have a plan for the day?”

  The Homecoming game was on the Friday night. The dance was on Saturday. There was a parade that afternoon. It was a huge thing. “Um… I’m working, so I’ll probably go home, shower and throw everything on. It’ll be fine.”

  That got me a narrow-eyed look. She added another name and a phone number. “This is Ms. Liz, she’s a dream to work with. You call her and tell her I gave you her number. She’ll get you set right up, my treat.”

  “Wait…no, Marsha.”

  “Ah.” She held up a hand as she snapped out the syllable. “Let me do this. Homecoming may not seem like a big deal, right now.”

  No, it seemed like a huge deal.

  “You have a world of experiences in front of you, after high school ends. But when you look back, I don’t want you to have a single regret. Ms. Liz will do all the heavy lifting. She’ll style your hair and do your cosmetics, and you won’t have to worry. You’re also not working that day. In fact, let’s throw a massage in there, too.”

  “I’m good,” I assured her. “Really. Massages from people I don’t know just…” A shudder raced through me. There was something kind of squicky about the idea of some stranger putting their hands all over me. No thank you.

  “Fine,” Marsha said. “But hair and make-up are still on me.” She tapped her lip again. “I feel like I’m forgetting something, but we have time. Just call her soon, all right? I’ll send a message to expect to hear from you, so she already has you on the schedule.”

  Oh, nicely trapped. Now, even if I didn’t want to spend Marsha’s money, I’d have to call or risk making her look bad and wasting her friend’s time.

  “I’ll call,” I promised.

  “Good.” After peeling the sticky note off, she handed it to me. “That wasn’t the only reason I asked you to come back.”

  “I’m fired?” It was a joke but she didn’t laugh.

  “Not exactly,” she said, and the sudden sober expression had my stomach plummeting. Was the help her way of softening the blow of my dismissal? “I did something for you, and you’re going to accept it because while I filled out the paperwork, you won it on your own merit.”

  What was she talking about?

  From under her blotter, she drew out a letter and held it up. “You know Mason’s is a franchise, right? I bought into it years ago? I own this store, but we’re still part of a larger corporation.”

  “Um…sure. I think that was in the materials you gave me to read during training.” Though it had been a while, and it wasn’t like I dealt with corporate. Marsha was the manager and the owner. This was her store, and she ran it her way.

  “Well, that part isn’t important. What is important, is that every year, stores from all over the country are invited to nominate employees for scholarships. You have to be solid students with a good GPA, and you have to have declared intentions to attend or already be enrolled in college, and you need three recommendations.”

  Excitement threaded at the possibility. I needed all the help I could sew up in advance. “When’s the deadline for submitting it?”

  “Last May. There will be another one this coming May, but you won’t be eligible to apply for that one.” The corner of Marsha’s mouth tilted up.

  “Oh.” The syllable came out riding a wave of disappointment. “I guess I should have done my due diligence.” In my defense, I’d been hella distracted last April and May, but that wasn’t an excuse. “Wait…why wouldn’t I be eligible this coming May? You said people could apply if they were in college too, and I’d just be wrapping high school.”

  “Because you were awarded the scholarship for this year.”

  The music faded, the room seemed to get bigger, and I was really happy I had already sat down. “But I didn’t apply…”

  “No sweetie, I applied for you,” Marsha told me with a grin. “I nominated you for it, and I talked to some of your teachers at school and they gave me great recommendations. I thought when I asked, I’d get one or two, but every single teacher wrote one for you.” She shook the envelope at me. “Go ahead, open it.”

  Disbelief held me hostage. “Yo
u—you applied for me?”

  “Yes, I did. You work hard, Frankie. I told you that, and I’ve got my own kids in college. I know a good opportunity when I see it. They didn’t get this scholarship the years they applied, but they didn’t have your GPA or your dedication. You make me proud, and I’m so thrilled for you. Now open it.” The last came out on a laugh, and I took the envelope. It was thick, though a standard legal-sized envelope. I slit the back of it as Marsha clapped her hands and I glanced at her.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “Maybe, but there’s nothing like seeing the real thing. C’mon…the suspense is killing me. We’re not all young.”

  I snorted, but pulled out the fat sheaf of papers and unfolded them.

  Dear Ms. Curtis,

  It is our honor to present you with the James T. Mason Foundation Scholars Award for academic excellence and perseverance. Each award is given individually based on the merit of the applicant and relies heavily on the presentation of recommendations, which our board weighs along with your academic record, stated goals, and history with the company.

  You have been deemed an outstanding candidate and in support of that, you are receiving a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar scholarship to be divided amongst four years of your education…

  The rest of the words blurred out. A quarter of a million dollar scholarship. I jerked my gaze up to Marsha, and her grin was a thousand watts all on its own. Dizzy, I held up the papers, and then she just pushed up from her chair and dragged me out of mine.

  The hug was even better than the one she gave me last week, and laughter bubbled out me. “A quarter of a million dollars.”

  “I know!” Marsha enthused, and I squeezed her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh honey, it was all you, I just made sure they had all the details on just how exceptional you are. I know it’s not enough to cover four years of Harvard but…”

  Pulling back, I stared at her askance. “Marsha, this is awesome. I know I’m going to have student loans but this—this is so much money, and it means that with this, with my savings, and maybe the other scholarships I applied for—I might be able to take out far less in loans. Thank you.”

  “I’m delighted for you. I’ve been sitting on this all day. It came in yesterday’s mail, but I didn’t see it until this morning, and I couldn’t be happier.”

  Dazed, I could appreciate why she’d waited.

  She let out another happy laugh and hugged me. “Now get out of here and go see those boys of yours and celebrate. I’m so proud of you.”

  I was still trying to digest what this all meant as I clocked out and headed for the doors. I had to count my tips, and I needed a shower in the worst way. But the papers in my hands were like holding onto real gold. The heat outside was a slap as I made my way to the car.

  Archie’s and Jake’s had bracketed it earlier when they came in to do their homework along with Coop. I’d been too busy to hang out, but they’d been great, and it had been nice to have them there. They were still being protective, even if Ian hadn’t been with them…

  Even if…

  Some of the joy of the scholarship waned. There was no even if. I didn’t like the fact Ian had taken off. I liked even less that he wasn’t answering my texts. Hypocritical, considering I ghosted them over the summer? Maybe.

  But he just left the morning before. It had all seemed fine, and then he left. I guess it wasn’t fair to expect all of them to be okay with me dating each of them, but they were the ones who’d said it was all right.

  Then again, Ian was also the first one to ask me out, and I had sex with Archie and with Jake. So maybe his leaving was my fault.

  Sitting down in the driver’s seat, I got the car started and opened the windows to let the hot air out. I was already sweating. October was literally right around the corner, but it was still hot.

  Sweat already dampened my back, but I just unfolded the scholarship letter and reread it. It seemed surreal. A quarter of a million dollars. Some of the scholarships I applied for were like twenty grand, and that even seemed like spitting into the wind at the idea I’d get it.

  Marsha was the best.

  I wanted to take a picture of it send it to the chat I had with all the guys, but like the chat with Ian, that one had been quiet all weekend. I’d talked to Archie, Jake, and Coop in our individual threads, but not in the group.

  Coop and I hadn’t really talked about Ian the night before, and Archie and Jake had been all about the dresses. When I did laundry earlier, Jake and I had debated the latest History Buff video while Coop made a top ten list of all the reasons he was never going shopping again, except he’d enjoyed seeing me in the dresses.

  That had been funny.

  Archie had just asked how I was doing, and I knew what he really wanted to know was whether I had bad meatloaf at home. Thankfully, that answer had been no. I mean, maybe they were there, except the cats hadn’t been locked in my room, so I thought it was a safe bet they weren’t.

  Speaking of the cats, I needed to go feed them. I also still needed to get Coop something for his birthday. But instead of pulling out and heading home or sending a text to the guys, I re-read the letter for the third time.

  My phone buzzed.

  Jake: Probably going to be late. 7 okay?

  I smiled.

  Me: 7 is fine. Want me to order takeout?

  Jake: Nope. Unless you’re still tired from last night. Then I can bring food.

  Me: You want to go out, out?

  Jake: Duh. Let me know if you don’t. That’s okay. Gotta run, baby girl. See you soon.

  I’d text the guys when I got home. I could celebrate with Jake tonight, but I wanted all of them to know. It wasn’t until I got home and fed the cats that the nerves resurged. If I sent the news to the group chat and everyone but Ian responded, that would suck.

  But if I changed the group message or created a new one without him in it? That would be worse.

  Damned if I did. Damned if I didn’t.

  By the time I finished my shower, I wasn’t so much sad as pissed off. Fine, if Ian wanted to be friends—friends still answered their text messages. When I’d stopped answering their messages over the summer, I’d been angry with them. Angry and hurt.

  So if he wasn’t answering mine…

  Wrapped in a towel with another around my hair, I picked up the phone and opened his text message.

  Me: I know you’ve been quiet since you left, and maybe you need the time. That’s okay. But not answering me is not okay. I am worried about you. I miss you. When I didn’t talk to you over the summer, it was because I was mad. I was hurt. I felt betrayed. If you feel that way, I’m sorry. Please tell me what I did wrong.

  That last line was pathetic. I backed it up and changed it.

  Me: Please talk to me.

  Better.

  Hitting send on it before I could change my mind, I tried not to focus on the lack of read receipts on the earlier messages I’d sent him.

  In the bedroom, I laid out the scholarship letter, took a picture of it, and then sent it to the group chat with GUESS WHAT!!!!! in all caps and lots of exclamation points. Excitement eddied in and out of the worry and the irritation. Could you be excited and pissed off at the same time?

  Apparently.

  I toweled off and hung those up before I changed into Jake’s boxers—a surprise for him if we ended up getting naked—denim shorts, a thin bra, and a tank top. I felt so much better, and I didn’t smell like grease and hamburgers.

  I blew out some of the dampness from my hair, but didn’t dry it all the way and left it down. Then and only then did I go back to check my phone.

  Coop: Holy shit! Go Frankie!

  Jake: Damn! Congrats!

  Archie: You’re a rock star. Glad the rest of the world knows it, too.

  Coop: We need to celebrate.

  Jake: We will.

  Archie: You’re funny. All of us, tomorrow. This deserves more than just
a text.

  There were heart emojis and great answers. But no response from Ian.

  None.

  My smile faded, and my earlier irritation resurged. There was a read receipt. It said all read. That meant they’d all seen it including Ian.

  I tabbed over to his text message, and there was a read receipt and three blinking dots.

  Sinking onto the bed, I stared at those three dots and waited.

  And waited.

  Finally…

  Ian: Congrats on the scholarship. You deserve it. I’m not mad. I promise.

  That was it. I gave it another minute, but he said nothing else.

  Me: But you’re hurt?

  C’mon, Ian, talk to me.

  Ian: I spent the weekend with my dad, Frankie. It’s—a lot of this is complicated, and you’re on the spot with everyone. We’re still friends, I mean that.

  Me: That didn’t answer my question.

  Ian: Getting ready to have dinner with Mom and Dad.

  I stared at the message and frowned. If I got up early tomorrow, I could see Ian at school before practice. It would have to be really early. But he couldn’t just walk away if I was in front of him.

  Ian: Not hurt. I promise. I’m sorry this has been confusing. I meant what I said yesterday morning. Talk tomorrow, okay? You have a date with Jake tonight, and I don’t want to spoil it.

  I could cancel. Tell Jake I needed to go see Ian. Hell, I could probably ask Jake to go with me to see Ian. He’d been the one who went after him yesterday, but he hadn’t said a word about it since. So maybe I should talk to Jake first.

  Me: You’re not spoiling anything. I just miss you. I don’t like this distance.

  Ian: Me neither. But I promise, we’ll talk tomorrow.

  Tomorrow.