Good for You (6 page)

Chapter 11

REID

Dori doesn’t trust me. I’ve got that much figured out. She clearly has no idea of what a guy in my position is offered on a daily basis. I could sleep with a different girl, or several, every night. There’s always another one, ready to go. I’ve had offers—which I absolutely do not accept—from girls so young it makes me want to track down their parents and tel them they should be arrested for raising baby whores. Even when it comes to the ones who are borderline old enough, I won’t do some chick who thinks she’s al grown up just because she’s experienced.

I underestimated Dori’s determination to keep the Diego girl away from me. Not only did she manage to get me moved outside with Frank permanently, she’s now supervising Gabriel e herself. I’m not sure what was expected from this arrangement, but I bet it wasn’t the shit-fit that went down this morning when Gabriel e found out about it.

Al egedly, she picked up a hammer and
threw
it
. Not at a person, but supposedly it narrowly missed a window and lodged itself in the drywal of the dining nook. I didn’t lodged itself in the drywal of the dining nook. I didn’t witness this meltdown, but thanks to Frank being a gossip addict, everyone outside stays ful y informed of every rumor inside or out. It’s not unlike a mini movie set.

“Roberta threatened to cal her mother and send her home if she didn’t calm down, but Gabriel e stil owes at least thirty hours.” Frank looks at me and shrugs. “I had no idea that girl would miss working with me so much.”

“In your dreams, old man,” quips his wife, Darlene, who’s loading bedding plants into a wheelbarrow. Her hair is entirely silver and longer than I’ve ever seen on a woman her age. It hangs in a fat braid down her back. “Come on, kid, let’s get these pansies in the ground.” I realize she’s talking to
me
when no one else moves.

By lunch I’ve learned how to plant pansies (“Not too deep! Not so close together!”), and the fact that Frank and Darlene retired five years ago, declared themselves bored stupid six months later, and decided to design landscaping for Habitat homes instead of going on cruises and taking up crafts.

“What did Frank mean, about Gabriel e owing thirty hours?” I’m staring at my hands, which are filthy. I couldn’t plant flowers with gloves on (earning, “Noob,” from Darlene), so there are solid black lines of dirt under al ten fingernails. My manicurist is going to kil me.

“The families approved to get a house have to put in a few hundred hours of ‘sweat equity.’ Gabriel e’s parents both work two jobs, and her brothers are too young to put in time.” She gives me a weird look. “Up until last week, Gabriel e was total y uninterested in helping out.” I fol ow her to the tap where she rinses off the hand tools we just used. When she doesn’t elaborate, I rol my hand.

“And…”

“And then
you
became a… volunteer.” Ah. “So you think my presence, er, motivated her to participate.”

She nods, giving me that squinty, old-lady, I-see-through-you look.
Christ
. Has Dorcas alerted
everyone
that I’m preying on the under-aged girl?

“Look, I’m
not
interested in Gabriel e. She’s a
child
. I want nothing to do with her, okay?”

Several things happen at once. Darlene blinks, eyebrows rising, as she stares over my shoulder. In the same moment, I hear a strangled whimper and rapidly retreating footsteps.

Wel , shit.

*** *** ***

Dori

I knew Friday that I was in for it today with Gabriel e. I spent the whole weekend dreading it. Even so, I misjudged the level her outrage would reach at being separated from Reid. I should have known.

The
thunk
of the hammer hitting the wal was, oddly enough, the catalyst for calming her. I think it stunned her that she could do something so destructive and potential y deadly. Thank God no one was in the path of that airborne tool; the claw
imbedded
itself into the drywal . Roberta, Gabriel e and I stood there in shock for a ful minute before Roberta cleared her throat and asked, “Maybe you’re too upset to work today?”

Gabriel e’s answer was a whisper delivered towards her feet. “No.”

Roberta and I exchanged a look and I gave her a faint nod. “Al right, then. Fol ow Dori, and I’l see you at lunch break.”

Gabriel e and I spent the morning patching the damaged kitchenette drywal , fol owed by measuring, marking and dril ing holes in every cabinet door in the whole house for the hardware we’l instal this afternoon. My ears were ringing from the constant high whine of the dril in confined spaces.

Gabriel e hadn’t uttered a single word during the entire three hours. “Two more and then it’s time for lunch,” I said, turning to find she wasn’t in the room. I had no idea how long she’d been gone, but I had a good idea where I could find her.

“Rats,” I muttered, stalking towards the back door.

I forgot to take off the goggles or leave the battery-powered dril behind. Thank the stars I was carrying the darned thing business end down, because as I yanked the back door open, Gabriel e bul eted through it. I jumped back as she lurched past me, crying.

“Gabriel e?” The sound of my voice only sped her up.

She shoved the front door open, throwing, “Leave me
alone
!” over her shoulder. The engine on her twenty-year-old clunker thundered to life out front a few seconds later.

Reid
.

As I stride onto the back patio, he turns from where he stands with Darlene at the faucet. “What did you do to her?” I step closer and lower my voice when I notice the audience of people pretending not to listen. I don’t care about embarrassing
him
, but Gabriel e’s distress is no one else’s business. “What did you say to her?” I hiss.

His eyes travel the length of me, just as he did last week when we met, except today his gaze lingers on my legs, the dril clutched in my hand, and the safety goggles stil on my face. His answer is al lazy insolence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shoving the goggles onto my head, I raise my chin. “I’m talking about Gabriel e, who just stormed through the house, very upset. Stop acting like you’re oblivious, when we both know you’re the one who caused it.” He steps closer and looks down at me. “I didn’t do or say a damned thing to her.” He gestures towards Darlene without breaking our eye contact. “And I have a rock-solid alibi,
Dorcas
.”

Darlene steps closer. “Dori, calm down, hon. Gabriel e came

outside

and

overheard

something

she

misunderstood, that’s al . She’l get over it.” I am stunned speechless. I cannot
believe
this. He’s managed to win over
Darlene!
Is there a woman in this
world
, besides me, who’s immune to him? I turn and stomp back into the house without replying, which is incredibly rude of me and I’l have to apologize to her later.

I would dearly like to take a hammer to the drywal myself. It’s too bad there’s no demolition on this job, because I’d be a whirling dervish of destruction today.

Gabriel e and I could team up and take down a house this size like twin tornadoes.

After lunch (during which Reid and I sit on opposite sides of the yard), I grab the ratchet screwdriver set, gather the handles, knobs and screws, and head for the master bathroom. I’ve resigned myself to working alone for the rest of the day, which is fine with me, but it’s boring with no music. I forgot to bring the radio today, and my iPod, tragical y, is unfixable. If I want music, I’l have to provide it for myself.

Starting with the under-sink cabinets, I line up the screws with a chrome hinge while balancing the door on my foot, and fit the ratchet to a screw and crank it, click-click-click.

By the time I’m adding the chrome handle, I’ve got a slow, steady beat going and I’m singing a soft song cal ed

“Gravity” by Alison Krauss. It’s about a girl who leaves home and kind of never looks back, because once she’s gone, she realizes that life isn’t as straightforward as she’d once thought.

When I stand up to grab another hinge and set of screws for the next door, Reid is standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. My voice falters, but I finish the last line before going silent. I don’t know how long he’s been there. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and then his eyes shift to the cabinet doors stacked against the wal . “Roberta sent me to help with the cabinets.” I grab a door without replying and position it as I did the last one. Since the hinges wil be placed on the opposite side from the last one, it won’t be as easy to attach, but I know what I’m doing, and it’s not an impossible job to do alone. Aside from the fact that I’d rather do it without him standing there staring at me.

When he doesn’t take the unspoken hint, I say, “I don’t need help.”

I expect him to turn and go, but he doesn’t. Bracing his shoulder against the doorjamb, he crosses his arms over his chest and watches me. I ignore him, balance the door, line up the hinge with the predril ed holes, and attempt to twist the screws in partway by hand.

The first screw doesn’t catch, pops out of the hinge and flies across the ceramic tile floor, stopping when it bumps against his boot. Without missing a beat I grab another screw and repeat the process, with an identical result. “Holy Moses,” I mutter, which earns a rude laugh from Reid as he leans to pick up the screws at his feet. He jingles them in his hand like Dad does with loose change.

“Any time you want me to hold something, or screw something, just let me know.”

Wonderful. A patented Reid Alexander double entendre.

Final y, the screws catch, and I offer up a silent prayer of thanks while wondering how much trouble I’d be in if I stood up and kicked him in the shin with my steel-toed boot.

Hard
.

Chapter 12

REID

I think she seriously wants to strangle me right now. I haven’t decided if that’s how I want her to feel or not.

I watch her attach the third cabinet door—the one with the hinges on the right. She’s left-handed, so it’s easy enough for her. The last thing she wants is my assistance.

I’m weighing the desire to keep her irritation level as high as possible against the suspicion that the longer I loiter in the doorway, the higher the likelihood she’l refuse to sign my timesheet at 3:00.

She sighs before lining up the hinges with the last door, and I imagine the words threading through her head as she pleads with the hardware to cooperate. The first time it begins to angle off course, I step up and take it from her, our fingers brushing. She jumps like my hand is fire, recovers quickly and begins twisting the screws in by hand.

When they’re in as far as they can go without the screwdriver’s assistance, she picks up the tool and drives them in the rest of the way as I brace the door. She doesn’t speak, and neither do I.

I hate that watching her handle that screwdriver is turning me on.

I hate that I’m waiting for an excuse to touch her again.

I hate that I narrowly resisted begging her to continue singing.

Fol owing her to the next bathroom, I’m staring at the curved lines of her calves and the not-quite imperceptible sway of her hips (hidden under another oversized t-shirt—

this one says D.A.R.E.). I get this sudden impression that she’s psychic because I swear to God—her ears are darkening like she can read my mind. So I concentrate harder.

When she sets the tool on the counter, I pick it up. “I’l do the next one,” I say when she turns and sees me holding it.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me, right?” Her mouth snaps closed and she spins back around to select the door. There are only two doors to instal in this microscopic bathroom that al three Diego kids wil share. The entire
room
would fit inside my shower.

Two minutes later: I admit that I thought this whole working-with-tools thing would be easier than it is. Getting the damned screw to stay connected with the driver bit is a bitch. One interesting note, though—despite some of my more colorful curses, it’s obvious Dori is enjoying the fact that I don’t have the innate ability to wield a ratchet screwdriver with ease. Her smile is a little too smug for my liking.

“I guess I’m not a natural at
this
type of screwing,” I say, and my God, her face. I’ve just discovered the secret to spreading the blush
everywhere
.

***

“Okay, I don’t get it. So… she’s hot, or not?” John asks.

We’re hanging out on the terrace of his 22nd floor apartment on Olympic, lounging on Adirondack chairs, a cold six-pack on the glazed concrete between us.

Downtown is alive and beckoning, but I’ve persuaded him, for the time being, to take a break for one night.

“It’s hard to say,” I answer, and he shoots me a confused look, tipping back the bottle in his hand as I stare out over the cityscape. For some reason, I mentioned something about Dori, and now, I’d rather drop it.

“Tel me more about the apartment,” I say. For the past couple of weeks, John’s been trying to convince me to rent the penthouse suite that’s opening up a few floors above him. I told him I’d think about it, though I’m not sure I want to be that near John 24/7. He starts rattling off square footage and view and party possibilities while I’m trying not to answer his question in my head.

Dori Cantrel : hot or not?

She’s nothing like my usual fare. Nothing at al .

But that doesn’t exactly answer the question, does it?

*** *** ***

Dori

“I miss you.” I try not to sound like I’m pouting, but I feel Deb’s absence more than I ever have. “You’re so far away now.” Technical y, she’s been gone for eight years, but she did her pre-med undergrad and med school close to home.

Now she’s in a different time zone, and the hours she Now she’s in a different time zone, and the hours she keeps are impossible to figure out. Working a mind-numbing eighty hours a week at the hospital, she has no consistent schedule. Texting or cal ing me whenever she has five minutes has become the norm, if she isn’t spending that five minutes eating or sleeping.

“I know, baby girl.” She sounds exhausted and I feel contrite for sulking. “I miss you, too.”

“How’s, um, Bradford?”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I read the silence between us. “Dori, can you keep a secret?”

“Psshh,” I say. “You know I’m the ultimate secret-keeper.” I savor the sound of her warm chuckle in my ear. “True.

Wel …we had sort of a date Sunday night. I mean, it wasn’t a date, real y… he just shared his take-out with me when I had ten minutes for dinner.”

“Isn’t he sort of one of your bosses?”

“He’s not evaluating me—the one time we interacted was because he was stepping in for someone else…” The way her words trail off, she’s either fal ing asleep on me, or she’s thinking about what she isn’t tel ing me. “So, um, how’s the Habitat place going?”

“I’m counting the days until I’m gone.” I’m thinking to myself
Deb and Bradford, sittin’ in a tree…
but I resolve to let her tel me about him at her own pace. We’ve never hidden anything from each other indefinitely.

“Reid Alexander stil being a jackhole?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“You’l be in Ecuador soon. By the time you return, his community service wil be over, and you’l never have to see or work with him again.”

“Yeah.” I’m not disappointed at the thought of his absence. I’m not. He does nothing, says nothing unless it’s calculated to make me uncomfortable.

“Hmm,” Deb says, a subtle chal enge before I change the subject to col ege concerns like dorm life and how to dodge the freshmen fifteen.