Far from Xanadu (7 page)

I cared. I cared about her and what she was going through.

“I’m glad I found you,” she said quietly, increasing the grip on my hand. “After it happened, after I got charged, everyone turned against me, all my friends. Even my best friend dumped me. God.” Her eyes welled again. “I really need a friend.”

I needed more than a friend. I needed her to stay like this forever, stay close, hold my hand, trust me. I threaded my fingers through hers and pulled her hand closer.

She straightened in her seat. “Come on,” she said, giving my fingers a final squeeze, then releasing them, and me. “Let’s go have some fun.”

She was a girl, right? Girls liked to shop. The best clothes shopping in Coalton was at the Merc. Everett stocked a decent selection of jeans and tees and long skirts and coats. There was this black canvas Car-hartt jacket I’d been drooling over since last winter.

I couldn’t picture Xanadu in any of those clothes, though. They were hick duds.

What else? Food? Eating topped
my
list of enjoyable activities. I was a girl, to some degree. Everyone liked to eat. I decided on the Dairy Delite. There was no other choice, really.

The Dairy D looked deserted. Jamie must’ve been in the john. At the takeout counter, I called, “Hello. Anybody home?” Jamie shot to his feet. He’d been crouching on the floor in front of the frozen custard machine, dispensing a stream of chocolate soft-serve directly into his mouth. I sighed at Xanadu. “Meet Jamie. Jamie, Xanadu.”

Jamie looked from me to her. A grin spread across his face, ear to earringed ear. “So you’re the infamous Xanadu.” He leaned across the counter and waggled a finger in her face. “I heard about you, girl.”

A look of terror streaked through her eyes.

“Not from me,” I said quickly.

“You’re the talk of Coalton,” Jamie said. “Meth-heads. God. I would’ve loved to have been there to see Glinda’s face when you said that.”

“Glinda?” Xanadu asked me.

“Mrs. Stargell,” I explained. “It isn’t her real name.”

Xanadu’s brow furrowed.

“Jamie makes up names for people.”

“Not true.” He shook his head from side to side. “I give identity to one’s inner being. I visualize their essence.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ask him what he calls his mother.”

Xanadu arched eyebrows at Jamie.

“Elle s’appelle Geneviève,” he said with a fake French accent. So queer.

Xanadu laughed. She was indulging him. Not a good idea. “Make up a name for me,” she told him.

“Honey,” he said, “your essence has already been identified and personified by your name.”

That was true. She was the embodiment of poetry.

Jamie slapped the countertop. “What can I get you, girls? The special today is the chili cheese dog, but I don’t recommend it. The buns are hard as day-old dicks and the hamburger was looking a little

E. coli, if you know what I mean. The curly fries are hot and fresh cuz I just made a new batch. Well, half a batch now.” He tilted his head. “We’re running low on custard too, don’t ask me why.” He stuck an index finger into his right dimple and twisted it.

Xanadu laughed again. “You,” she said, pointing to him. “Both of you are going to save my life.”

Ditto, I thought.

Jamie quipped, “We’re out of Life Savers. We have gobs of sprinkles for sundaes, though.” His tongue, I saw, was a hideous shade of green and pink and orange. “Oh hey, Mike. Kung Pao called over a few minutes ago.”

“Shit.” I glanced at my watch. Twenty after three. “Listen, I’ve got to go drop the truck off for Darryl. Take care of Xanadu, will you? I’ll be right back.”

Jamie eyed the length of her. “I’m not sure what to do, seeing as how I’m not that kind of boy.”

I shot him a silent warning: Shut it off.

She made some remark I didn’t hear as I tore to the truck. Jamie had her laughing, anyway.

I parked at the curb and honked, left the keys in the ignition, then sprinted the eight blocks back to the Dairy D. Xanadu had ordered onion rings and a Mr. Mistee, and was sitting across from Jamie at the outdoor picnic table. He’d fixed us our usual — a raspberry Mistee and an order of curly fries to share.

“What do you do around here for fun?” Xanadu asked him as I eased in beside her.

“You mean instead of this?” He lassoed a curly fry in the air.

She sipped on her Mistee. Sitting so close to her, the charged air between us made the hair on my arms stand up.

Jamie tapped his chin. “Let’s see. Mike is into Internet porn.”

I lunged across the table and slugged him in the chest.

“Hey, owie.” He rubbed his pec. “Don’t damage the merch.”

“You were damaged from birth,” I muttered.

“You’re the one with hormone deficiency.”

Xanadu laughed. “You are both so gay —” She stopped. She swiveled to face me. “I didn’t say that.”

Jamie said, “Use it or lose it.” He flapped a limp wrist at her.

I hated when he got this way. All show-offy, exhibitionist. He validated the stereotype. He played to it. Exhaling an irritated breath, I scooted out the end of the bench and said, “Anyone else want ketchup?”

Jamie raised his hand. “I do. I do.”

I bent his hand back until cartilage crunched.

On my way to the gallon jug out front, I heard Xanadu say to Jamie, “Um, is it okay to talk about it?”

“About what?” Jamie said. “Us being gay? It’s not like it’s a secret. Look at me. Am I flaming, or what?”

Xanadu said, “I didn’t notice.”

They both cracked up.

As I scooted back in with a pee cup of ketchup, Xanadu smiled at me. I melted. She said, “So, the two of you...”

“Coalton’s token ten percent of the population,” Jamie answered. He swirled a curly fry in the ketchup, adding, “One fag and one dyke. You couldn’t order it up any more predictable than that.”

I glared at him. “Cram it.”

“Oh, excuse me. Mike doesn’t like to admit she’s,” he cupped a hand to his mouth and mock-whispered to Xanadu, “queer.”

“I don’t like labels,” I snapped. “Especially that one.”

Xanadu turned toward me and held my eyes. “I know what you mean. God, how I know what you mean.” She gave me a long, knowing look. “I respect that, Mike. I really do.”

Heat fried my face. She got it. She understood me perfectly. Vice versa. We had a connection.

Jamie took a sip of Mistee and said, “Did you get to River View?”

My eye daggers sliced through his heart.

“Sorry.” He blanched. “I’m sorry.”

I thought, Broadcast it to the world, why don’t you?

“What’s River View?” Xanadu asked.

Jamie answered quickly, “The big party scene outside of town. It’s where us townies go to shoot up and perform degrading acts of sex and civil disobedience.”

Xanadu’s eyebrows lifted. “When can we leave?” She grinned. “Just kidding.” She helped herself to a curly fry. “I don’t do drugs and I’m giving up sex.”

“Forever?” Jamie and I said together. We cut each other a glance.

Xanadu shrugged. “Guys blow.”

Jamie said, “Which ones? Could you get me their numbers?”

Xanadu must’ve kicked him under the table because he yelped and grabbed his shin. My Mr. Mistee ran dry so I sighted a rim shot to the trash can.
Whoosh.
Two points.

“Really. Where do you guys party? What do you do here? It’s so boring I just want to strip naked and go running through the cornfields.”

Jamie’s eyes bulged. “Could I sell tickets to that?”

I clicked a tongue at him. That was a joke. I’d buy up all the tickets, though. “Wheat,” I said.

“What?” Xanadu blinked at me.

“Nothing,” I mumbled. It’s wheat, not corn.

She opened her purse and fished around for something. A poison dart for Jamie, I hoped. He opened his mouth to humiliate me again, but got distracted by a black Ford pickup veering into the parking cove and grinding to a halt on the gravel. “Great. Talk about guys who blow,” Jamie said under his breath. He sighed heavily and stood.

“Who is it?” Xanadu pulled out her shades and reclasped her purse.

Both truck doors slammed in unison. Xanadu’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God.” She clenched my arm. “Who is
that
?”

I shielded my eyes against the blinding sun. You couldn’t mistake those two silhouettes. “Which one?” I said.

“The one with the hat.”

They both had Stetsons. “Beau and Bailey McCall,” I told her. Maybe she meant Bailey, since Beau was carrying his hat. “Beau is Jamie’s wet dream.”

Xanadu’s head spun in Jamie’s direction, but he’d already skittered back inside. Beau raked a hand through his mop of curly brown hair and eased his Stet back onto his head. Xanadu watched as they neared us. She pressed a palm to her heart. “My God,” she breathed. “They’re divine. Bailey’s the taller one?”

I hadn’t noticed before, but I guess he was a couple of inches taller than Beau. They were both over six feet. “Yeah.”

As they passed our table, they acknowledged me — us — with identical hitches of their chins. Like Bailey, like Beau. It was sort of a running joke. Jamie ran with it.

“Hey,” I said in greeting. Xanadu seemed dumbstruck, frozen in the lips-parted position. She slid her shades down the bridge of her nose and peered over the rim, sexily.

At the takeout window they both ordered burgers and Cokes. “Would you like fries with that?” Jamie asked Beau. “They’re on the house.”

Jamie, I admonished silently. Nothing was on the house here. He had to pay for everything he ate, which pretty much meant he volunteered his time. Why was he always doing that for Beau? Giving it away? He came off so desperate.

Xanadu scooted out the end of the bench and moved around the table to sit opposite me. Why? To get a better view? “I didn’t see them at school,” she said in a lowered voice across the tabletop. “And believe me, I checked out everyone.”

I thought back. “They’ve been gone a couple of days. Helping with calving.” At least, Bailey had. Like Bailey, like Beau, I assumed.

“Where?” Xanadu asked.

“Where what?”

She let out a little huff. “Where do they live?”

“Oh. Out by you,” I answered. “Near your aunt and uncle. You just continue on the county road a couple of miles until you see the big windmill. You’ll smell it first. Their feedlot.”

“No shit?”

I laughed. Was that a joke?

Xanadu’s lips twitched up at the ends. “I might have to take up cattle rustling.”

Slaughtering, I almost corrected her.

We watched as they pumped mustard and ketchup and spooned relish onto their burgers. Xanadu stared so hard at Bailey’s back it made him turn around. “Oh my God, he’s looking at me.” She hid her face behind her purse. “I didn’t even put on makeup today.”

You don’t need it, I wanted to say. You’re beautiful the way you are. Besides, he can’t see your eyes.

She asked, “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Who?”

She cocked her head at me like, Hel-loo?

“Bailey? How should I know?” It came out harsher than I meant.

“I thought everyone knew everything in Coalton.”

When they cared, I thought.

“Is he still looking?” Xanadu sneaked a peek over her purse.

“No, he’s inhaling his burger.” I looped a leg over the bench and stood up. “I better get you home before dark.” Thank you, Faye. Thank you, God, for rotation of the earth and making the sunset arrive at this time.

Xanadu exhaled an irritated breath. She pushed out the end of her bench and paused for a moment, studying Bailey. Looking breath-taking backlit by the rosy sun. Then she turned and accompanied me to the truck.

The truck.

Xanadu must’ve realized it the same moment I did. There was no truck. We both skidded to a stop in the gravel. She removed her shades and dropped them into her purse, then said, “I think I know where I can get a ride. Is there a restroom in this place? I have to put on makeup.”

My heart sank. “Knock on the back door. Jamie’ll let you use the one inside.”

She reversed direction and walked toward the Dairy D. Halfway there, she turned and called to me, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Chapter Seven

I
couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about Xanadu. Dad’s lighter was under my pillow. I felt around for it in the dark. I flipped the cap and filled my nose with the oily smell of butane. “If you dream it, you can be it.” Dad. He was talking about softball, about being picked for All-State, playing competitive, playing college ball. About making a career of it, going pro. When was that?

Didn’t matter. My dream wasn’t about softball. I wanted her. She wasn’t a dream. She was here, now. Dreaming doesn’t get you anything, Dad. You have to do more than want it so bad it hurts. You have to take action.

I shut the lighter and focused on my clock across the room. 3:46. Sunday morning. If I added more definition to my arms, or my quads, where she could see.... There wasn’t much I could do about my height. I could wear my cowboy boots. They’d add an inch or two.

The VFW didn’t open until noon, but Armie said I could use the resistance equipment any time I wanted. He may not have meant four AM.So he shouldn’t have given me a key.

It was quiet in Coalton. So quiet you could feel the silence like a blanket wrapped around you.

I warmed up with side, tricep, and quad stretches, then ran through a couple of sets of curls, pulldowns, leg presses. I benched a hundred. My muscles were spazzing bad, but I power-crunched till it hurt.

My mood lifted, my outlook. I felt more in control. Nothing had happened between her and Bailey. What could happen on a ride home?

I locked the VFW door and started back. People who weren’t in church, or had gone to an early service, were already sitting out on their front porches, drinking coffee and reading the
Tri-County Gazette
. “Morning, Mike.” From the ratty old sofa in front of his trailer, Mayor Ledbetter waved to me. “It’s a warm ’un already, isn’t it? Hot for April.”

“Sure is,” I called back.

“Cougars are looking mean.”

I flexed a bicep at him.

He flexed one back. “Marie and I don’t miss a game.” Marie was the Missus Mayor, as per Jamie.