“It was at A.J.’s,” he answered. “I grabbed it when I was there.”
“Is this where you used to work?” I pointed to the Chuck’s Automotive Repair patch sewn onto the right side of his shirt. The other side had another patch with Devon’s name.
“Yeah.” Devon nodded before taking a long drag from the cigarette, exhaling in a single puff of smoke, and looking at me. “I’m really sorry about the other night, baby doll. I should—”
“Can we not talk about it?” I crossed my legs and adjusted my skirt again.
“Okay.”
Shifting my weight, I scanned the room. I don’t like this. Feeling weird around him.
“How long were you at A.J.’s?” I tried to sound noncommittal, as if I didn’t care about the answer, but I wanted to know what Carter meant when he’d said Devon had gone through some things. Maybe if I know what’s going on with him, I’ll get why he acted like he did.
Devon shrugged. “A few days.”
“Why didn’t you stay longer?”
“Would you rather I’d stayed longer?” His voice hitched. He looked at me, his eyes darting from one of mine to the other.
“No, but . . .” I took a deep breath to gather myself. “I was just curious. Do you not get along with your brother?”
Devon turned away. “We get along fine.”
“So, why didn’t it work out? You staying with him?”
“It just didn’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair, then let his forehead rest against his palm with his elbow on the arm of the couch. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he closed his eyes as he exhaled.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Devon looked sideways at me, the corner of his mouth pulling into a hesitant and obviously fake smile. “So, what have you got going tonight?”
I decided to go along with the change in subject. Maybe pretending everything was fine between us would make it that way. “Not much. I’m supposed to go to a movie with Joy and Carter.”
“Where’s Joy?”
“In Clarington with my aunt, Jane. We’re meeting her at five.”
“So, you’re just hanging out with Carter until then?” Despite the casual way he asked, suspicion lurked in Devon’s tone.
“He picked me up on the way here. I told you he’s going out with Joy now, right?”
Devon nodded before taking another slow drag from his cigarette.
“There’s nothing going on with me and Carter,” I said. “He’s just my—”
“It’s fine, Tori. I don’t care if you hang out with Carter.” His voice was too harsh to match his words.
I knit my brow. “It doesn’t sound like you don’t care.”
“Really. I don’t.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “If you want to hang out with Carter, go ahead.”
Watching him, I wondered whether he was telling the truth or just didn’t want to talk about it right then. Devon finished his cigarette, put it out, and leaned back with his eyes closed.
“Do you have a headache?” I asked.
“You could say that,” he grumbled.
“Did you take anything?”
“No.”
“I probably have ibuprofen in my purse. I can go get it if—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped, then added softer, “I’ll be all right.”
“Are you sure?” I slid closer, pulled my feet under myself, and raised my hand, hesitating before I ran my fingers through his hair. Despite the cold, he felt warm. “Do you not feel good?”
Devon looked at me and offered an unconvincing smile. “I’m fine, baby doll.”
Resting my elbow on the back of the couch, I continued brushing his hair with my fingertips. He slouched into the cushions, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes again. Within moments, his breath slowed, and he relaxed.
“You guys make up yet?” Carter asked, returning to the front room in a pair of khakis and a green polo shirt. “I’m tired of listening to you both whine.”
“Sh.” I put my finger to my lips, but it was too late. Devon opened his eyes and grumbled something inaudible.
“Sorry,” Carter said. “I’m getting ready to take off. You ready?”
“I guess.” I looked at Devon. “Do you want to go?”
Devon sat up, ran his hands over his hair, and sighed. “Sure.”
“You don’t have to,” I replied. “If you’re not feeling good—”
“I’m fine.” He grabbed the arm of the couch and pulled himself forward. “I’ll go. Just give me a minute.” Standing, he walked into the kitchen.
Carter folded his arms in front of his chest and tapped his foot on the matted shag carpet. “We’re going to be late.”
Eleven
My heart slammed against the back of my ribcage. No matter how many times I wiped the sweat from my palms, my hands felt wet and gross. In less than a minute, the art show opened to the public. I’d have to answer questions about my work, something I’d never done. The idea terrified me.
The doors opened. I watched as parents, teachers, and the art lovers of Trent trickled into the gym. It was a meager turnout. I exhaled. A meager turnout meant fewer people to judge me.
I can do this.
Two hours later, I couldn’t wait for the gym to empty so I could get out of the uncomfortable outfit Mom had forced me to wear. She said important community members would come, which meant I had to dress like a junior politician in a long gray skirt, white blouse buttoned to my neck, and gray blazer. The shoes were the most dreadful part: ugly gray kitten-heeled pumps.
I slipped out of the shoes, sitting on the floor beside the makeshift wall constructed to hold my paintings on one side and Augie Staffer’s on the other. Mom would have yelled at me for being unladylike, but I didn’t care. She hadn’t deemed it necessary to stay over twenty minutes. Therefore, I didn’t find it necessary to stand in uncomfortable shoes for hours.
“Excuse me, Miss,” a deep male voice said. “Are these yours?”
I glanced at the man’s legs. He wore black slacks, pressed so that the front crease looked as if it could cut glass, over scuffed black boots. What in the…? I ran my eyes up the man’s legs, over his cobalt-blue silk shirt, up to his face and my mouth fell open.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I stood. “And what are you wearing?”
“I expected your mom to be here.” Devon adjusted his black tie and started to run his fingers through his neatly combed hair but stopped himself. “I hoped she wouldn’t recognize me if I—”
“You look weird.”
He shifted his weight, cleared his throat, and frowned. “Thanks.”
“Sorry. It’s just . . . I didn’t expect you to come.”
“Why not?”
“Um, because . . . It doesn’t matter.” I slid my arms around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here. This has been the worst day ever. I’m so bored.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, baby doll.” He kissed the top of my head. “So, these are yours, huh?”
I slid to his side, keeping one hand on his back while his arm rested on my shoulders.
“Yep.” I nodded. “It’s—”
“The myth of the cave.”
“Uh-huh.” I looked up at his face to see his reaction. “Mixed with that other one.”
“Gyges.” Devon squinted at the four paintings. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and slid them on. My mouth fell open in shock. I’d never seen him wear his glasses in public. Dozens of people could see him, but he didn’t appear to care.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but when you mentioned you paint, I assumed you painted rainbow-infested landscapes, not . . .” He pointed at the four paintings on the makeshift wall. “These are incredible.”
I blushed. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t think you were listening when I told you those stories.” He stepped closer and squinted at each painting. “But apparent
ly you were.”
“Of course I was.”
Devon looked back at me. “Sometimes I wonder.”
I frowned. “I listen.”
A grin played at the corner of his mouth as he walked toward me. “Why did you think I wouldn’t come?”
“Because you didn’t say anything when I told you about it.” I drew imaginary circles on the gymnasium floor with my big toe. The weirdness hadn’t completely disappeared between us, but the fact he’d gone so far out of his comfort zone gave me hope we’d get back to where we’d been before.
“Sorry. I had a lot on my mind that day.” He brushed a stray curl behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my cheek.
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “You came. That’s the important thing.”
“Of course.” He scanned the room. “So, are you supposed to stick around all day or—”
“Ready to leave already?” I scowled. “You just got here.”
Devon shook his head. “No. No. I—”
“It’s fine.” I chuckled. “Just messing with you.”
“Oh.” He exhaled.
“I can leave. The show ended a while ago. I didn’t feel like walking home in those stupid shoes, so I was waiting for my mom to come back.”
Devon tensed, glancing at the door. “When is she supposed to be back?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Whenever, I guess. She didn’t say. She might have assumed I’d just walk home.”
“I was going to pick up the rest of my stuff at Lia’s and drop by the hardware store while I’m in town. You want to ride along?”
“Sure.” I nodded, retrieving my shoes from beside the wall.
As soon as I’d climbed into Devon’s truck, I pulled off the blazer and tossed it against the passenger door in a heap. Then I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my blouse, untucked it from the skirt, and tied the loose ends in a knot over my belly button. Devon likewise took off his tie, hung it over the rearview mirror, unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a white undershirt, and tossed his glasses on the dash.
I tousled Devon's hair, kissed his cheek, and smiled. “So much better.”
“I thought you’d like the preppy look,” he said.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “It’s not you.”
Hugging his arm, I lay my head against his shoulder. He started the truck, pulled out of the school parking lot, and lit a cigarette. The lone cigarette left inside the pack rattled when he stuffed the box back in his pocket.
Twelve
It was well after five when Devon pulled into Lia’s driveway. The house looked the same as it had before: a loose board away from being condemned. There was a brown car parked in front of the dilapidated garage and children’s toys cluttering the porch. When we walked up to the door, I was careful to avoid the third step. The board had broken and there were nails sticking out on one end.
“I should have fixed that.” Devon picked a piece of peeling paint off the post and stared at it. “I should have fixed a lot of things around here.”
“You could fix it now,” I replied.
“I doubt it.” He tucked the piece of white paint in his pocket.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled before knocking on the door. When Lia answered it, she looked less than happy to see him. Her face scrunched into a glare and she set her jaw the same way he did when he was angry. She’d stopped dying her hair black since the last time I’d seen her. It was almost the same dark ash-blond color as Devon’s on top and hung down to her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, standing in the doorway with her arm on the jamb as if she expected him to force his way inside. “I already told you, you’re not staying here.”
“I came to pick up the rest of my stuff,” Devon answered.
“Try Goodwill,” she retorted. “I don’t have your shit, anymore.”
Devon’s eyes popped open. “What?”
“I don’t have your shit,” she repeated, emphasizing every word.
“What did you do with it?” he asked.
She folded her arms across her chest, drew back her shoulders, and looked directly into his eyes. “I threw it out.”
Devon's breath quickened. “What about my guitar? You didn’t trash it, did you?”
“What if I did?”
“Mr. Hamilton gave it to me.” Devon’s voice broke, and he took a breath to steady himself. “Tell me you didn’t throw it away.”
Lia’s gaze softened, her shoulders relaxed, and she spoke with a gentleness I didn’t expect. “That’s the one thing I didn’t throw in the dumpster.” As if she caught herself, her features shifted back into stone and her tone hardened. “I figured I could pawn it for a few bucks. Just never got around to it. I flushed all the shit you had stashed in it, though, so if—”
Devon shook his head. “I don’t care about that.”
“Sure, you don’t.” She scoffed. “That’s what you really came here for, isn’t it?”
“No.” Devon looked at her, pleading. “I just want the guitar.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll get it. Stay here.”
She left the door open and disappeared into another room. Through the open door, I could see a woman trying to make a sandwich in the dining room. She had a difficult time putting peanut butter on a piece of bread. Her hand shook, and she seemed agitated.
Devon’s eyes narrowed when he saw the woman. He took a step forward, then stopped. I watched as he lifted his foot again and hesitated. He looked like he was in pain and his breath quickened. “Annie?”
When Devon spoke, the woman turned to the door and smiled. “Oh, I didn’t know we had company.” She walked into the front room and stopped. “Devon?”
The corner of Devon’s mouth twitched. “Hey, Annie.”
“Oh, my god,” she squealed, rushing to the door and throwing her arms around him. “Your sister didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
“That’s because he’s not staying,” Lia grumbled as she reappeared behind the woman, toting Devon’s guitar. “Here.” She shoved the guitar at her brother. “There’s your stupid guitar. Now go.”
“What are you talking about?” the woman asked. “He’s not going anywhere. I want to spend time with my baby.”
Holy shit! My mind raced. Devon had always refused to talk about his mother. Anytime I asked about her, he’d get upset. The only thing he’d ever told me was that she hadn’t wanted to be a mom. It seemed strange considering she had three children, but with nothing else to go on, I’d assumed she had her reasons. Seeing her, I got a better picture. She looked fragile. Her clothes draped over her thin frame like a sheet on a skeleton. From the way she reacted to the peanut butter, I realized she might have had mental problems, and she hadn’t been able to care for her children.
“He’s not a baby, Annie,” Lia said. “He’s a grown man, and I don’t want him in my house.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Devon’s mother laughed. “He’s your brother.” She grabbed Devon and dragged him into the house. “Come on. Don’t listen to her. She’s just being bitchy. You know how she is.”
Devon chuckled, and his sister glared at him.
“I guess you can come in, too.” Lia looked at me and sighed.
“This is Tori,” Devon said, setting the guitar case on the floor.
“Is she the one that tried to burn down my house?” Lia growled.
Devon glanced at me and back at his sister. “That was somebody else, and she said she was sorry. She forgot she turned the burner on.”
“Sorry didn’t fix my fucking kitchen, did it?” Lia raised her voice. “My landlord was pissed. I almost got evicted because of you.”
“Stop yelling at your brother, Lia,” Annie said. “It was just an accident.”
“Yeah, well, he’s fucking lucky I came home when I did, or it would have been more than that,” Lia replied.
Devon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked at the doorway into the dining room
and ran his fingers through his hair. It didn’t have the same effect as it had when his hair was longer, but I assumed he did it for the same reason. When his nephew cried from the other room, he looked relieved to have a distraction from the tension between him and his sister.
Lia swore under her breath, glancing at the door on the other end of the living room before she focused a deliberate glare at Devon. “I’ll be right back. Don’t give her anything.” She spun around, stomped toward the closed door, pushed it open, and disappeared.
Once Lia had gone, Devon’s mother turned toward him and smiled. “Finally,” she said, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Now that the warden’s gone, what you got? I could use a fix. She keeps me on lock down twenty-four-seven.”
“I don’t have anything,” Devon answered.
“Come on, baby.” His mom pulled on his arm. “You’ve always got something.”
He shook his head. “Not on me.” He sounded apologetic, as if he wished he could give her what she wanted.
“Bullshit.” Any hint of affection vanished from her face. She sneered, jamming her hand into his pocket. “I know you, baby boy.” Her lips spread into a hungry grin and my stomach turned. She lacked most of her teeth. The ones left were black and yellow. “You just don’t want to share.” She pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket and put them into her own before she reached for his other side. “You always were a selfish bastard.”
Did his mom just call him a bastard?
Devon grabbed her wrist to stop her. “I told you, I don’t have anything.”
“Fine, keep it.” She seethed, pulling her arm out of his grasp.
She stepped away from him and retrieved the stolen cigarettes from her pocket. After she opened the pack and took out the sole cigarette, she tossed the empty box at him. He stood perfectly still as it bounced off his chest.
“You’re just fucking worthless, aren’t you?” she growled, and Devon’s face twitched. “One fucking cigarette.”
Despite her complaint, she put the cigarette between her lips and picked up a lighter from the entertainment center to light it. “What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?” She glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be in jail or some shit? Your sister said you were back in juvie.”
Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2) Page 7