Just Flirt (14 page)

I sit up. Did Pastor Mike look at me when he said that? Did he really mean, “If your enemy shows up with his girlfriend, do not take revenge by dancing in front of him with another guy”? But no, he’s preaching about the dangers of road rage because of a major accident in town yesterday. The more I think about what happened, though, the worse I feel, regardless of how horrible Sabrina may be. What if she was badly hurt? And if I had never danced with Jake, then Blaine wouldn’t have followed me upstairs and she wouldn’t have fallen.

That’s the bottom line.

Mom rolls her eyes at Madeline, who is listening with utmost attention with a Bible she’s probably never read past Genesis open on her lap. Earlier this morning, when I brought coffee to the porch, instead of Mom I found Madeline perched on Dad’s chair, already dressed and coiffed for the day.

“Why, thank you, Dee,” she had said, reaching for Mom’s mug like I brought it for her. “But could you get me more cream?”

Uh, okay, demand much? I fetched the cream and then sat beside her, peering down to where the Cutson brothers were sleepily padding out of their camper with their hair in matted Mohawks. Madeline took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the taste before saying, “So, tell me about Jake. Your mother said he’s your boyfriend?”

A squirrel that was climbing down a tree stopped mid-scamper and turned its head to me as if to say, Don’t do it, girl, don’t do it! Maybe it would have been best to lie, but something about Madeline’s steely gaze drew the truth out of me. “Um, no.”

She nodded, shifting in her seat. “As I guessed. And what about the gentleman I saw you leaving the upstairs room with, who is he?”

Seriously, how did she know about that? What is she, a stinking fly on the wall—or better yet, a buzzard on a branch? But even though it was absolutely none of her business, those steely pupils continued to hold me hostage. “Uh, my ex-boyfriend? I was up there taking a break and he walked in.”

Madeline’s lips pursed. “And the young lady? She was in quite a rush to leave, judging by her fall.”

Oh my gosh!
The buzzard saw that, too?

“Who fell?” Mom asked as she stepped out onto the porch, the screen door clipping her ankle when she saw my grandmother sitting in her chair. Since Mom was both annoyed with Madeline and in pain, I knew full disclosure was my best course of action. So I told her it was Mona’s daughter, Sabrina, who tripped—by accident. “
Wonderful,
” she said, her face contorted like she’d bit into moldy bread. “That’ll give Mona Owens another reason to hate me.”

“Why’s that?” Madeline asked.

Mom sank down onto a different rocking chair. “Because I sort of fired her.”

At first, Madeline seemed impressed by Mom’s gumption. But then she stood and dumped her coffee over the railing dangerously close to that poor squirrel. “Well, then. Let’s just hope nothing bad comes out of this, shall we?”

But something bad did come out of it. Sabrina fell. And when Pastor Mike ducks his head in prayer, I keep mine up long enough to see Jake park his truck by the garage.

When I wave, he doesn’t wave back.

*   *   *

I need to find Jake after church, to explain what happened … No, make that what
didn’t
happen with Blaine, but I first have to work in the store. I try his cell, but all my calls go unanswered—as does my page over the intercom asking him to report to the lodge. So as soon as my shift ends, I run to the garage. He isn’t there. Neither is his truck. Instead, I see Ivy stretched out on a hammock, reading a John Grisham legal thriller, her favorite kind of novel. Ivy turns a page when I ask if she’s seen Jake. “Hmm, he just left for Bender’s,” she says.

Huh. Bender’s Auto Store is only two miles away.

I do have the afternoon off.

No, forget it. Madeline has already taken Mom’s truck to the grocery store for “real” food, so I’d have to take my bike. I’m not
that
desperate to see Jake. But then I remember the look on his face after he saw me with Blaine, and the horrible assumption he must have made.

Well, a little exercise won’t hurt.

Ivy is happy to oblige when I ask if she’d help Mom if she needs it. So I grab my bike and head toward town, not slowing until Rex’s development comes into sight. Like always, the pretentious brick entrance makes my chest ache, both from the fact that I was stupid enough to date a guy who lives here and from the memory of how beautiful this land used to be before my grandparents sold it to Rex. Rex also bought land from Chuck Lambert, who used the money to transform his campground into the ridiculous carnival that it is now. Word is, Chuck wants to sell another parcel to finance the water slides he’s putting in, but the zoning board won’t allow it.

Good.

And Rex certainly isn’t about to get any more of ours.

By the time I hit the city limits, my shirt is plastered to my sweaty back and Lord knows what my hair looks like, so I’m thankful that Jake’s truck is the only vehicle in Bender’s parking lot. A blast of air-conditioning makes my breasts ache when I open the door and step into the dank smell of motor oil. Mr. Bender, an elderly man with a stubble beard and grease-stained work shirt, nods at me before shuffling to the stockroom. On the walls, vintage Goodrich and Valvoline posters hang among the cobwebs, and a dirty table fan rotates on the counter. Jake yanks two bottles of Coke from an old-fashioned soda machine. He pops the caps off with the rusted metal opener and hands one to a person sitting on a cracked bar stool held together with duct tape. Roxanne.

Jake’s with
Roxanne.

His eyes widen when he sees me. “Dee? What are you doing here?”

Are they on a date? That’s not possible—Jake usually doesn’t hang out with guests. But Roxanne is into racing. Maybe he’s attracted to that and—
No, it doesn’t matter if they’re dating
. I just need to think of an intelligent reason that explains why I tracked him down like a crazed stalker, which is hard to do with Roxanne looking as though she wants to slam me upside the head with a tire iron.

“Oh, I was on my way to meet Natalie at the movies and I saw your truck. Can I, uh, talk to you? Alone?”

Roxanne turns away, mumbling something underneath her breath—something I’m sure isn’t good. Jake doesn’t seem pleased either, but he still excuses himself and leads me to the other side of the store where tires are stacked nearly to the ceiling. He faces me with his chin raised and says, “Okay, so, what do you want, Dee?”

Oh. I wasn’t prepared for this.

Jake has been abrupt with me before, but this is different. Before, there was always a teasing undercurrent. Now there’s something else, something I can’t identify.

“Jake, about last night. I wanted to explain—”

His cell buzzes. The corners of his mouth turn up as he reads his text and walks back to Roxanne. “Hey, Danny just texted from the racetrack. He came in second, but the guy who won got eliminated because of his piston.”

I don’t want to stand by myself like an idiot, so I follow him. Mr. Bender hobbles to the counter, spitting his chewing tobacco into a trash can. “Fool boy.” He swipes a finger behind his lower lip to get all the remaining black bits before saying to Roxanne and me, “The piston is an engine part, girlies.”

“Riiight,”
Roxanne says as slowly as the condensation rolling down her Coke. “You mean the same part that the top three finishers always have inspected by race officials in case the compression ratio is too high, which is probably why that fool boy got eliminated?”

Mr. Bender grunts, a fleck of tobacco still clinging to his lip. He studies her and then says, “Yeah, well, sodas are fifty cents. I ain’t running a free-for-all.”

After he goes back to the stockroom, Jake nudges her arm. “He must like you, Roxanne. He normally charges a dollar.”

Had the situation been different, I would have been impressed by the way she handled Mr. Bender’s “girlie” comment. But it’s clear from Jake and Roxanne’s interaction that
something
is going on between them. I should go. Now. But after Jake slides his phone in his pocket, he leads me back to the other side of the shop. “Okay. What about last night, what could you possibly have to explain?”

A lot. There’s a lot I have to explain.

He doesn’t speak while I tell him about Blaine coming back into the store, about him following me upstairs after I told him not to, about Sabrina walking in … and her falling down the steps. The only thing I leave out are those brief moments of flirting with Blaine because, well, I’m not exactly proud of that. “So, I just wanted you to know there was nothing going on, okay? Nothing at all.”

Jake acts as though none of this was necessary. “Okay, whatever.”

I grab his arm before he can walk away. “No. Not whatever. Stop it, Jake, I need you to believe me, okay? I’m serious. I don’t want you mad at me. Not this time.”

His eyes soften. He shifts to block Roxanne’s view and says, “Dee, it’s cool, of course I believe you. And I’m not mad. I was just a little peeved because—”

“Jake!” Mr. Bender hollers from the back. “Come help me before fifty bolts fall down on my stinkin’ head!”

Jake stares at me for a moment then runs to help Mr. Bender. Shoot.
What was he going to say?
Roxanne drains the last of her Coke and stands, walking to the wall filled with dusty framed photos of local drivers. She ignores me and concentrates on a picture of Danny standing by his racing kart. Starting a conversation is not a good idea, but as I head for the door, I can’t stop myself from blurting out, “Um, tell Jake I’ll talk to him soon.”

This time, I have no problem hearing what she says.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?

Roxanne clenches her jaw and tosses her empty soda bottle in a wooden crate. “I’m sure you’ll summon Jake again,” she says bitterly, “when you need someone to clean the campground or dangle in front of your ex-boyfriend.”

My stomach drops. How does she know about Jake’s plan to make Blaine jealous? Did he tell her? He must have, but why would he share something private that was just between us? And better yet, why should Roxanne care about Jake helping me out if it was his idea to begin with? But then again, the girl has hated me from day one.

And it’s about time I find out why.

“What is your problem with me, Roxanne?” I demand, trying to keep my gaze steady even though my legs feel like jelly.

Her voice reeks of sarcasm as she walks back to the counter with her hands raised in the air. “Me, have a problem with you? Oh, no, don’t be silly, you’re perfect.
Just perfect.
” She slams two quarters for her soda by the cash register. “So, please, just go on with your perfect little life and leave me alone.”

I waver between fear and anger. No one has ever talked to me like that, not even Sabrina Owens. “My life’s not perfect, Roxanne. You don’t know a thing about me or what I’ve been through.”

“Oh, yeah, you got it real tough. And God, what is it with you pretty girls? You smile and act all sweet and kind—like you’re trying to make the world a better place—but what you
really
do is hurt people. And, yes, I
do
know all about you,
Superflirt
.”

What?

How does she know about Superflirt? I never told Jake about that—did she overhear Natalie and me talking? I stand rooted to the spot, too stunned to respond. Hurt people? Who have I hurt? But Roxanne only turns away, dismissing me by saying, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway because things will never change.”

*   *   *

By the time I make it back to the campground, I’m a sweaty, stinky, exhausted mess. Natalie is scheduled to watch the store this afternoon, so she’s perched on a porch swing with her Disney World planner, a stack of Florida guidebooks, and a bottle of Yoo-Hoo. She chews on her pen as I park my bike and crawl up the steps with my helmet dangling from my fingertips. I toss it on the floor then flop down beside her.

“Rough day?” Natalie asks. “You need a Skinny Cow?”

I shake my head. Not even a Skinny Cow can help me now. It’s all too much. Madeline arriving. Blaine. Sabrina falling. Jake. Roxanne all but telling me I am a horrible skank of a person and looking at me the same way Tamara looked at Mona Owens last night.

Oh my gosh, does this mean—

“Do you think I’m like Mona?” I ask.

Is that what I am, some horrible show-off who steals other people’s thunder and leaves them stuck with the rain?

Natalie’s mouth drops. She swats me with her copy of the
Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World
and says, “Honestly, where did that come from? Please tell me you’re not still worried about last night. First off, Mona has cellulite, which you’ll never have if you’re like your mother. Have you ever noticed how fabulous her thighs are? And second, Mona flirts with married and/or taken men, which is something you never do. You have principles.”

“Uh, hello, aren’t you forgetting something?” Natalie knows the truth—I told her everything last night, right down to the
Gotcha
moment with Blaine. Idiot. What was I thinking? No wonder he followed me upstairs. No wonder Sabrina was furious. No wonder I was too ashamed to tell Jake about the flirting part.

“Okay, you need to stop, Dee.” Natalie shakes her head and shifts to face me. “So you flirted with Blaine for, like, one minute. Big deal. Did you ask him to follow you upstairs? Did you push Sabrina down the steps?”

“No,” I slowly reply.

“And didn’t she humiliate you and countless other girls like me, hello, Nose-Pick Natalie? So, yeah, flirting with Blaine wasn’t the best thing in the world to do, but you had your reasons. And I’m sorry Sabrina fell, but she didn’t die, and after all the pain she’s caused, maybe she deserved a little pain herself.”

Natalie does have a point. It’d take an hour to list all Sabrina’s victims. Natalie hands me her Yoo-Hoo and nudges my arm. “So come on, give me a teeny-weeny smile.”

I manage a small one.

“That’s my girl,” she says, flipping her book back open to a section about Epcot and then motioning to the pool where two guys are throwing a football back and forth in the shallow end. “And as your reward, I’ll tell you about the two brothers who checked in an hour ago
and
I’ll let you call dibs on the cuter one.”