Lifers (14 page)

“So, cowboy. Wheel number four goes where? Or do we have to make another trip?”

“Well, we could. But if you don’t mind, we could fix one on the roof.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “Won’t that dent it?”

“Not if we’re careful. All we need is that blanket you’ve got in your trunk so the paintwork don’t get scratched. And I’ll borrow some rope from Hulk.”

“Well, all right then. But if there’s one single scratch or tiny dent, I can’t promise that I won’t get violent on your ass.”

He smiled and winked at me.
He actually winked! Yay!

About 15 minutes later, after much sweating and swearing from Hulk and Jordan, the tires were all loaded into and onto my car. I wasn’t very happy about it, and the Princess looked very unhappy, but both men had promised that my car would survive unscathed.

The journey back was quicker, mainly because I let Jordan give me directions. He’d been delighted with my color selection and promised that he’d paint something memorable to cover up the ugly red mess.

Back at his house, he got to work straight away. He still hadn’t commented on the wording he was painting over, although I kind of felt like he might be waiting for me to speak first. Unusually for me, I wasn’t keen to start that conversation right then and there.

“Um, Jordan, I really need to use the bathroom. I’ve got my legs crossed, my eyes crossed and if I had a tail, that would have a knot in it, too.”

“Sure, no problem. There’s a key under the mat.”

“That’s not very secure!” I complained.

He shrugged. “They’ve always done it that way. Came in handy when we were kids.”

“What, sneaking girls into your room?”

He smiled.

“Nope. Never had a girl in my bedroom.”

“What? Not even a friend who was a girl?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He sat back on his heels, thinking about his answer.

“Well, I guess it’s because I went from thinkin’ girls were lame, to playin’ spin the bottle over night. Momma read us the riot act, and me and Mikey were both forbidden to have girls in the house—ever.”

“Oh, figures: two teenage boys. They were probably worried about becoming grandparents before their time. They did know that banning girls from the house wouldn’t necessarily guard against that?”

He smiled wickedly. “I don’t think they wanted to know, which was just as well as far as me and Mikey were concerned.”

“Hmm, there’s a story there, Jordan Kane, and I intend to find out what it is. But first I need to pee!”

After I’d finished in the bathroom, I couldn’t help taking a peek into the other rooms. There were three bedrooms upstairs. One was obviously his parents’ room so I didn’t go in there; the next I assumed was Jordan’s.

The bed was made and there were posters of various football teams tacked to the walls. It was messy, with several pairs of jeans and a couple of plaid shirts heaped up on the single chair. Paperbacks were stuffed into the narrow bookshelf, and when I looked closer I was surprised to see that most were high school textbooks.

I jumped when I heard Jordan’s voice behind me.

“What are you doin’ in here?”

“I couldn’t help wanting to violate the ‘no girls in your bedroom’ rule,” I said, smiling at him.

He frowned. “This is Mikey’s room.”

“Oh!” Color flooded my cheeks. “I’m so sorry! I just assumed…”

I looked around again, this time seeing the signs that I’d missed before: the layer of dust over everything, the slightly dated feel of the posters and pictures.

A cold tremor passed through me. This room was a shrine. Nothing had been touched. Now that I looked closely, I could see that even the sheets on the bed were covered with a film of dust. It was unbearably sad—but also a little creepy.

“You still want to see my room?” he asked, cocking his head to one side.

“You don’t have to. I was just curious.”

He jerked his head toward the next door, and pushed it open.

This room couldn’t have been more different. In fact, if I were looking for comparisons, I’d say it looked like a cell. There were no pictures on the walls, and the bookshelf held just two books: a tattered paperback that looked like it might have come from a yard sale, and the Holy Bible.

There were no personal possessions at all.

I looked around, searching for something, but there was nothing. I stared at him, confused, wanting to ask, but dreading his answer.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Ask me.”

“What happened to all your stuff?”

“They burned it.”

He turned and left me gaping into the empty room.

I felt horrible that I’d invaded his privacy in that way, even though he had nothing to hide. Well, he had nothing at all, which was sadder.

An overwhelming feeling of grief pressed on my body as I followed Jordan down the stairs. What would it do to a person, living day in and day out surrounded by nothing but memories and hatred? In so many ways, his home life resembled a prison, and I began to understand the extent of the problems he faced, as well as the reasons for the walls he’d erected around himself.

But perhaps this was worse? In prison, you don’t expect anyone to give a shit about you. But shouldn’t he have had an expectation that he would be loved by his parents no matter what? Isn’t a parent’s love unconditional? I guess not.

I wondered again what Jordan had done to suffer such hatred from them. I really hoped he’d tell me.

I tiptoed down the stairs, almost afraid to breathe in that haunted house, and sat on the porch, watching him silently work to replace the slashed tires on his truck. I offered to help but he refused, saying it would go quicker if I just stayed sitting.

“Where do you think you’ll go—I mean, when your parole is finished?”

He fidgeted with the tire iron.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me,” I reassured him. “We can talk about something else if you like.”

“No, it’s fine. I like talkin’ about it with you. It’s just a little strange for me. I feel like you’re a dream and I’ll wake up and find that my life really is totally shit after all.”

My heart ached to hear him sound so unhappy.

“Jordan, you’ve got a few months left then you can leave this place and never look back.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is. You say, ‘to hell with this small town’. And then you get in your truck and drive away.”

“Maybe for you it’s easy…”

“No, if it’s what you want—you just leave.”

“I don’t own anything, Torrey. Not even this broken down old truck. It … it belonged to Mikey, and there’s no way my old man would let me have it. It just about kills him that I drive it—well, when folks aren’t slashin’ the tires. I’d have to walk outta here and beg for food like some hobo.”

“But at least you’d be free.”

“Free to starve? Anyway, I’m not so sure about being free. My real prison is in here,” and he tapped a long finger against his head. “‘Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.’ Franklin D. Roosevelt. Guy knew what he was talkin’ about.”

I was impressed. “How do you know this stuff? I was a History major and I don’t know half the things you do.”

“University of life,” he said, offering a small smile. “I had eight years to do nothin’ but read. Read every book in the damn library—twice.”

“See! I knew you were smart!”

Jordan looked sad. “Mikey was the clever one. He had a full scholarship to go to UT at Austin. I was just his dumb little brother, draggin’ my sorry ass in the mud and ruinin’ the family name. Everyone said I’d amount to nothin’—guess they were right.”

“You’re not nothing,” I said, sharply. “Say that again and I’ll really hurt you.”

I saw a small, painful smile twitch at his lips.

“Did you have any friends come see you in prison?”

He shook his head.

“Nah, no one wanted to know.”

“And since you got out?”

“Nope. Cain’t say as I blame them. I don’t think I’d even recognize any of them now. Besides, Mikey was my best friend…”

“And you didn’t make friends in … in prison?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe one guy in juvie, but no, not really. Some cons did—someone to watch their back, ya know. I preferred keepin’ to myself.”

“It must have been lonely.”

“Yes and no. Do you know anything about Japan?”

“Whoa! Random, much?”

“I read a book about Japan once. It’s one of the most populated countries on the planet; all those millions of people crowded onto four small islands. So they all have to live in each other’s pockets, ya know? And they have those slidin’ doors made from paper to divide the rooms up. There’s not much privacy. So they get alone time by being inside their heads. That was what it was like for me.”

Yeah, I understand that.

He turned back to focus on the truck, and we lapsed into almost comfortable silence.

By the time he finished it was late afternoon, and my stomach was rumbling, demanding food.

“I’ve got an idea,” I announced.

“Another one?” he said, without looking up.

I smiled at his tone. I liked it when he sassed me back.

“Some people have more than one a year,” I replied. “I’m a rare breed that sometimes has ideas frequently.”

“Do tell. Let’s hear this famous idea of yours.”

“We’ll go back to my place. I’ll pack us up a picnic and we can take your big ole truck and find somewhere off-road to chill out by the shore.”

“Chill out?”

“You remember chilling out? They invented it in the sixties.”

He looked over his shoulder at me. “I should really do some work on your momma’s backyard.”

“Ach, leave that! It’ll still be there tomorrow. Let’s go for a swim.”

He smiled. “You know, that sounds great!”

“I knew you’d like my idea. I have lots of good ones.”

He held up his hands. “Not gonna disagree with you. I wouldn’t dare!”

Before I left, I insisted that he splash some paint over the word ‘murderer’. It was an ugly scar and I didn’t want to have to see it again.

“Okay, pick me up in about 20 minutes!”

I raced home and threw together a picnic: cold chicken, some leftover salad, and an apple pie that I’d made the night before. Then I added a couple of sodas and a bottle of water—good enough.

I dashed up to pull my bikini out of the closet, and stuffed it into my purse. No skinny dipping today—not that I would have minded, but I didn’t think it would be fair to Jordan.

I was just about ready when I heard his truck pull up.

I staggered out of the house, carrying the enormous picnic basket. Jordan immediately leapt out of his truck and took it from my hands.
Aw, he was so sweet
. And wow, he smelled really good.
He’d
obviously taken the time to shower, unlike me.

“So, where should we go? You know this area better than I do. What’s a good place for a swim?”

“I know the perfect spot,” he said, with a smile.

I waited. “And? Is it a secret?”

“Yep,” he said, a smug look on his face.

“Oh, very funny, Mr. Tit for Tat.”

He shrugged. “I reckon what’s good for the goose should be good for the gander, darlin’.” And then he winked.

I loved seeing this playful side of him slowly emerge.

“Go west, young man, go west.”

I got a full-on smirk for that, and another tantalizing glimpse of the cocky teenager he’d once been.

The truck radio was tuned to a local indie station, and I sang along as he drove.

After about four songs he turned to me with an amazed expression.

“You know the lyrics for all of these songs!”

“Well, yeah. I like listening to music. It’s a very economical way of conveying emotion, don’t you think?”

“Um, I guess. I never really thought about it.”

“Besides, I like visiting new places by myself. I listen to music while I drive. It’s no great mystery.”

“Is that why you’re in Texas?”

“Kind of. I needed to earn some traveling money and I needed somewhere to stay while I earned it. So I thought I’d come see Mom.”

“You’re not close with her?”

I sucked a thumbnail, considering my answer.

“We weren’t. But I think it’s good that we’ve spent time together this summer. I haven’t really seen her that much since I was 13, and not at all since I turned 18. So, yeah, it’s good … you know, getting to know her now that I’m an adult.”

He shook his head, a grave expression on his face. “Cain’t say I know what that’s like.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t think it was the time or place to ask. Besides, it was a lovely day; I didn’t want to sour the mood.

We drove in silence for several minutes before he grunted that we were nearly there.

He pulled off the road and drove over sand dunes for nearly a mile before stopping right on the water’s edge, the bright blue ocean stretching out toward the sharp horizon.

“Not bad,” I said, smiling at him. “This place is beautiful.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

I realized immediately that I’d stepped over the invisible boundary that I’d been trying to keep in place. His eyes closed and he slowly strangled the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the strain.

As for me, my lips tingled from the contact with the scruff on his cheek, and my body burned for him.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the passenger door and jumped out. Jordan was a couple of seconds behind me, carrying the picnic basket and the blanket that he’d borrowed from my car. He insisted on carrying both as we settled just a few yards from where the ocean lapped languidly at our feet.

The shadows were beginning to lengthen already, and I was disappointed that we’d left too late to go swimming. I’d been looking forward to washing away the day’s heat and dirt with a cooling swim.

I spread out the blanket and sat with my legs crossed, Indian style.

“God, I’m so hungry! You’d better dig in, cowboy, or I’ll eat everything in sight!”

He nodded, but still looked distracted. So I threw a chicken wing at him, which he caught easily, bringing him back to the present.