The Right and the Real (21 page)

I’d just set my bag down when I heard LaVon rap on the wall between us—one loud thump followed by three, sharp raps meant he wanted to see me. After triple-checking my door was locked behind me, I dropped by.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Whaddaya think?” he asked.

He’d polished the bike within an inch of its life. The chain glistened black and oily, there was a shiny new seat, and he’d even cleaned the tires. He’d added a rack to the back and stuck a secondhand blue helmet in a wire basket attached to the handlebars.

“Wow. It looks fantastic.”

“Wanna try it out?” he asked.

“Yeah…oh, no…I can’t. I have to work, but tomorrow, okay?”

“That’s cool,” he said. “I got group tonight anyway.” I was glad to hear he was going to AA. “What time you done?” he asked.

“About twelve thirty.”

“I’ll be there. Don’t be walking home alone.”

“I won’t. Thanks.”

I started to leave without the bike. “Take your ride. This ain’t no storage warehouse.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” As I wheeled it out the door, it occurred to me that LaVon must’ve put a bunch of time into fixing it up. “Ummm…LaVon? Can I give you some money?”

“For what?”

“Your labor.”

“Nah,” he said. “It was fun.”

“But—”

“Seriously, we’re cool. The way I see it, one less SUV out there messin’ up the planet.”

I grinned. “That’s true. Thanks.”

“Later.”

The Coffee Klatch didn’t open until eight o’clock on Sundays, and Trent offered me a few hours doing the weekly inventory and supply order with him before the morning staff arrived, so I jumped at it for more reason than one, but I told myself it was only for the money, and not his company. Because it was pitch-black at five thirty in the morning, I always ran with my pepper spray in one hand. When I got there, the café was still dark, but a car came around the corner, its headlights cutting through the night. Trent’s engine shuddered to a stop. He climbed out, rumpled and unshaven.

“Whose stupid idea was it to come in on a Sunday?” he asked me.

“Yours,” I said.

“Right. What was I thinking?”

That we could be alone?
Instead I said, “That we could get the inventory done without interruption?”

He dug around in his pocket for the front door keys and then realized he was already holding them in his other hand. “Coffee,” he mumbled. “I need coffee.”

We crossed the room without turning on the main lights. “I don’t know why you’re so tired,” I said. “You get up this early every day.”

“To say I got up implies I went to bed,” he said.

“You’ve been awake all night?”

“I think so. I’m too tired to remember for sure.”

“What were you doing?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t out on a date.

“Video game marathon with my roommate.”

Geeky, but still…it made me happy.

He flipped on the lights behind the counter and turned on the espresso maker. Within minutes, we were each holding steaming cups. I licked the whipped cream off the top of my mocha, waiting for it to cool a bit, and eyed Trent, who was already downing a triple shot of espresso, scalding hot and black.

For the first half hour or so, we worked mostly in sleepy silence, moving bags of coffee and boxes of tea around in the storage room, Trent counting, me noting it down. And then the caffeine kicked in.

“Sleep is for pussies,” Trent said, pumping his fist in the air.

“Totally overrated,” I agreed.

He jumped up and down on the balls of his feet like a fighter. “I feel great.”

“Must be your second wind.”

“My second wind was around midnight. This is at least my third or fourth wind.” He put his arm around me like we were a couple of football players in a huddle. “What’s next?” he asked.

All I could think about was that he was touching me for the first time in almost a week.

“Yo? Earth to Jamie. What’s next?” he asked again.

I looked at my clipboard. “Uh…chocolate coffee beans.”

“Watch this.” He took a handful of beans out of an open bag and tossed one in the air, catching it in his mouth. “Bet you can’t do that.”

“Oh, you’re on,” I said. “I’m awesome at this game.” I threw a bean in the air and caught it easily, crunching it between my teeth, the sweet chocolate and bitter coffee giving me a little jolt of pleasure.

“You’re good,” he said. “Still, bet I can catch more in a row.”

“What’s the bet?” I asked.

“I win,” he said, “you tell me a secret.”

“And if I kick your ass, which is definitely going to happen?”

“I’ll clean the bathrooms for a week.”

“Deal.” He knew I hated that job more than anything else. Plus, there was no way I was telling him any of my secrets.

We played rock, paper, scissors to see who had to go first. Trent lost, and I counted aloud as he threw bean after bean into the air, his mouth opening like a gasping fish. He got to seven before he took his eye off the ball and the bean bounced against his chin and skittered across the floor.

“Seven?” I said. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“Put your money where your mouth is,” he said, handing me the bag of beans.

I had an unfair advantage over Trent in that this was a game we played in the wings of the theater all the time. We didn’t use coffee
beans, but Hot Tamales were almost the same size. When I caught number eight, I offered Trent double-or-nothing odds.

“You’re on,” he said.

I flipped a bean into the air, but before I could catch it, a hand reached out and snagged it. “Hey,” I said, grabbing at him. “Cheater!” I tried to wrestle it away from him, but he held his arm way up over my head. I pulled at his shoulder, but Trent was solid. Through his shirt, I felt his muscles flexing against my fingers.

“I can’t let you win,” he said, laughing. “How would it look if the boss was scrubbing toilets?”

“You totally cheated.” I yanked on his arm, and when he lowered his hand, I thought he was giving in, but he popped the bean into his mouth and put his other arm around my waist.

“Since you lost,” he said, “you have to tell me a secret.”

It was stupid, because we were just flirting and messing around, but I panicked. All the fun drained out of me like someone had yanked the stopper out of the sink. Maybe I was just tired, but I couldn’t think of a single innocent secret to tell him. Nothing.

All I could come up with was the truth—My mom was a druggie in Hollywood doing God knew what, my dad had disowned me and joined a cult, I lived alone in a skanky motel, my best friend was still mad I’d dropped out of
West Side.…
Those were not the kinds of secrets Trent had in mind, and yet they were all I could think of. I pulled away, putting the width of the small storage room between us.

“What’s next on the list?” I asked, picking up my clipboard.

He took a step toward me and I took one away. “What’d I do?” he asked, baffled.

I felt kind of bewildered by my reaction too, but I guess when I was dating Josh, all the flirting with Trent seemed totally harmless,
and now it was maybe a little too intense for me to deal with. I had a lot on my plate these days.

“You didn’t do anything,” I said. I tried to laugh and keep my voice light. “I just don’t really do secrets. Besides. I totally won, and you’re a cheater.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking confused. I really wanted to pull him close to me and tell him my
real
secrets, but how could I? It was funny, but a few weeks ago, I might’ve confided in Trent. Now I liked him too much. Now I didn’t want him to know how screwed up my family was, how I’d let my boyfriend keep me a secret, and how afraid I was every night when I locked my door and climbed under my comforter.

“Anyway,” I said, “it looks like we need to check on the filters next.”

“Jamie, I didn’t mean some deep dark secret. I was thinking more like when your birthday is or your favorite flower or something lame like that.”

I fumbled with some boxes. “Yeah, I know. Ignore me. I just hate losing.” I nudged him with my elbow. “Especially to a cheater. And you still have to clean the toilets all week too. I am soooo not letting you out of that one.”

He smiled, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it anymore. By the time the morning crew showed up, all the inventory was recorded and we’d placed the supply order online. We were both so buzzed on caffeine that we’d slid back into our normal give-and-take joking-around mode, but again, he didn’t try to touch me, and I’d kept distance between us too.

Trent was getting in his car as I came out. “See you tomorrow,” he said, slamming the door.

“Yeah, okay.” I rapped on his window and he rolled it down. “April twentieth,” I said. “Daffodils.”

“What?” he asked.

I smiled and walked off.

I kept meaning to list my Olivier picture on eBay, but Saturday was really busy with dance class and rehearsal, and then there was the inventory on Sunday. I could’ve made the time, but I guess I still felt bad about doing it at all.

After I clocked out on Monday morning, I made myself sign onto one of the computers and set up my auction. I debated over how long to make it last, and decided to go with five days because I still had two weeks before the deposit was due. I set it up to end on Saturday the twenty-sixth of February, with a minimum bid of three hundred dollars. Grandpa had paid six hundred almost four years ago, but I had to get what I could for it. I hoped the low price would interest more bidders.

The bike had seemed like a great idea when I rode it around the block on Saturday, but plowing through a driving rain that morning, I changed my mind. I arrived at school soaking wet, frozen, and exhausted. “This really sucks,” I told my bike as I snapped the bar lock into place with bright red fingers.

Krista had barely spoken to me since the Beast got towed away, so when I got inside and she ran up to me and gave me a big hug, I dropped my bike helmet in surprise.

“Oh, my God!” she said. “You’re soaked.”

“I know, sorry.” The front of her faux-fur leopard-print sweater was damp from my wet jacket. “I rode my bike.”

“When are you getting the Beast back?” Krista asked.

Unless the Olivier picture sold for a small fortune, I’d never be able to get it from the towing company or buy insurance, so it was probably just going to rot there. “I’m not. Dad’s going to…he wants to sell it.”

I expected her to freak out, but instead she gave me a very compassionate look and said, “Oh…right…makes sense.”

I didn’t know why Dad selling the Beast made sense to her, but before I could ask, Liz showed up. She gave me a quick hello hug. “Ooohh…you’re all wet.”

“She rode her bike,” Krista said, giving Liz a look I didn’t understand. “Her dad’s selling the Beast.”

“Ohhh, right,” she said, nodding.

What was up with them? The warning bell rang, and we headed to class.

“Oh, Krista,” I said, “I almost forgot. Your gas money.” It killed me to hand it over, but it wasn’t like I could keep it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said, pushing my hand away.

I stopped walking. “I’m not going to be driving you anymore.”

“I know, but it’s all right. My dad gave it to me. He has no idea how I get to school.”

“Well, you keep it, then,” I said.

“Forget about it. No biggie.” She turned to Liz. “Did you do the calculus homework?”

Okay. Something was definitely going on here because we were talking fifty bucks, not fifty cents. Krista sold her designer clothes on her website for what I thought of as a lot of money, but she definitely wasn’t rich. She needed to save for New York too. We were at my classroom by then, so I put the cash in my pocket to deal with later.

On Tuesday, the late February rains had given way to clear blue skies, and it made me think that maybe spring would come early this year. My auction was up to five hundred eighteen dollars too, so at least I knew I could make my deposit, which was a huge relief. I didn’t have much time to celebrate it, though, because I was behind with all my homework, and three of my teachers kept me after class to give me the lecture about how they understood senioritis but it didn’t give me permission to slack off.

And then, right after sixth period, I found another yellow Popsicle box shoved through the locker vent. This time, when I smoothed it out, I saw Josh had circled
Blue Raspberry
with a black Sharpie. This was getting ridiculous. What was his problem? If he had something to say, why did he keep avoiding me?

On the bike ride home, I decided if I couldn’t find Josh to ask him directly, then I’d just have to try and figure out what he wanted me to know. Blue Raspberry
did
mean something to me, but I couldn’t remember what. My concentration was split between avoiding getting run over by traffic and trying to dig up a memory that made sense. But even though I was preoccupied, I still noticed I was being followed.

LAVON STEPPED OUT FOR A SMOKE JUST AS I RODE UP.
I could’ve thrown my arms around him, I was so relieved.

“Someone’s following me,” I said.

He turned his head almost imperceptibly, but I knew under his shades he was scanning the area.

“It’s that red station wagon in the McDonald’s parking lot.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait,” I said, doubting myself. “Maybe I’m imagining it.”

“Well?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I leaned my bike against the dead shrubs. “I got this eerie feeling I was being followed. I guess because that car was going really slowly, just sort of creeping along.”

He pulled a half-crumpled cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a match, sucking in the smoke. LaVon didn’t believe in lighters, because they ended up in landfills. “Maybe it’s just some old lady.”

“Maybe, but then I stopped at the dollar store for peanut butter,” I said. “And the station wagon was parked in the lot when I came out. Now it’s across the street.”

He positioned his hand down by his side so the smoke wouldn’t
blow in my face and gave me his slow grin. “Who would tail you, anyways? Trent?”

“Very funny,” I said. “I don’t know. Someone from the church, maybe?”