Turning Home (A Small Town Novel) Page 3

It wasn’t uncommon for uppity socialites to come sniffing on the poor side of town for a thrill. Mrs. Emerson, a wealthy woman in her mid-forties, was rumored to be sleeping with Pete from the hardware store. Everyone knew her husband was sleeping with the waitress from the Anchor Bar. He hadn’t been subtle about his cheating. I loathed these people—the rich who looked down their noses at the hardworking members of this town. Their lives were so screwed up and broken, but they remained unhappy for the sole purpose of materialistic shit and status. They would rather stay in a hopeless marriage than get a divorce in fear of being judged by their just-as-hopeless friends. Brooke would end up just like them, in a loveless marriage while drinking herself into a stupor just to escape the reality of her life. And I would remain in this town, just a memory of a time in her life when she lost herself in the carelessness of youth. We were going down very different roads, one paved in gold and the other in dirt. Even though I knew we wouldn’t work, I found myself wishing it were tomorrow.

  I tapped Michelle on the shoulder and motioned with my head for her to follow me. Brooke Kingsley had affected me more than I wanted, and I needed something to take my mind off the way she had felt in my arms. Michelle happily followed me, sending me a smile she thought was sexy, but all I saw when I looked at her was desperation. It was almost tangible, leaping off her skin and waving its hands for attention. We had been fucking for the past month, usually drunk off our asses.

  Brooke Kingsley deserved someone better than me, but a small part of me yearned for attention from a girl like her. I needed to get my head in order and stop daydreaming about what might be.

  Michelle wrapped her arms around my neck as she brought her mouth to mine. I willingly parted my lips and tasted the cigarette and alcohol mixture of her breath. This was the kind of girl I deserved—just as used and damaged as I was. Michelle knew who she was and didn’t fantasize about things out of her reach. Putting Brooke out of my mind, I withdrew Michelle’s shirt and tossed it over my shoulder. Her fingers worked the button on my jeans, and I stepped out of them. We walked backward toward the bed, falling onto the mattress. Michelle straddled my waist, and I half sat up to take off my shirt. The sound of the party echoed behind the door. Closing my eyes, I tried to be in the moment, but my thoughts kept running toward Brooke and whether or not she would show up tomorrow. Maybe I waited too long to make my move.

  “I knew you’d come crawling back to me,” Michelle said as she hiked up her skirt and removed her panties. I leaned over and retrieved a condom from the nightstand. I’d left a small box here a year ago just in case I ever needed it. I may sleep with a lot of girls, but I never had unprotected sex. With the girls I messed around with, there was no telling what I might catch. Plus, there was no way I was becoming a father at twenty-one.

  When the condom was firmly in place, Michelle buried me inside of her and began to ride me. I gripped her hips and tried to lose myself in the sensation, but it wasn’t working. I kept seeing the way Brooke shivered when I touched her or the blush that colored her cheeks.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled, pissed at myself. Michelle took it as confirmation that I was enjoying myself and rode me harder. My annoyance at myself wasn’t so much Brooke-related as it was frustration with my messed up lifestyle. I didn’t want to be this guy anymore—didn’t want to fuck anything on two legs simply because I could. This shit was getting old really fast, but it was also addicting.

  Ten minutes later, I pretended I came and told Michelle to get off me. She bitched and had a few choice comments about my ‘manhood.’ I didn’t care what she thought. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I watched as she stumbled around the dark room looking for her clothes. In that moment I realized that maybe there was some truth to Brooke’s comment. I was pathetic.

  I stretched against my Egyptian cotton sheets, a smile on my face. I had a dream about Dylan last night. I realized it was a dream as soon as my daddy clapped him on the back and invited him to a round of golf. I knew it was my subconscious trying to fit Dylan into my life. My fantasies cleared with the rising sun. My daddy would never approve of a Crawford, and there was no way Dylan would ever fit into my life. I didn’t want him to; it would ruin everything about him. Money always turned good people into greedy bastards.

  “Brooke, are you ready yet?” my mama’s voice sounded through the door before she opened it. She scowled when she noticed I wasn’t dressed yet.

  “Why are you still in bed? We have breakfast plans with the Emersons. You’re going to make us late.”

  My smile disappeared as I hopped out of bed. I looked a lot like my mother. We both had wavy hair the color of freshly baked bread, and our eyes were blue, though my mamas had bags beneath them. Fine lines, barely visible, lined her mouth and around her eyes. She had a standing monthly appointment with Dr. Bleakson for Botox injections—my daddy’s idea. He expected my mother and me to look our best at all times, though he was twenty pounds overweight. I wondered if my mother hated being a trophy wife as much as I hated the thought of becoming one.

  “Sorry,” I said, “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

  “Make it fifteen, and wear that Ralph Lauren dress I bought you last week with your hair down.” She took a sip of her mimosa as her eyes roamed over my bedroom. It was spotless, per my daddy’s instructions. He freaked out one time when I had made banners for the Homecoming football game and accidentally got glitter on the carpet.

  “All right.” I started for my personal bathroom.

  “What did you and James do last night?”

  I looked over my shoulder, steeling my features into indifference. “We saw a movie at the Cineplex and then looked over the brochure for UA to study the map of the grounds.”

  Her thin eyebrows arched as she stared at me for a long while, as though her icy glare would cause my lies to reveal themselves.

  “Can I shower now?”

  She nodded, her thin chin barely dipping. When I shut the door to the bathroom, I took a moment to take a deep breath. Walking over to the sink, I took off my necklace and earrings, setting them on the counter. My eyes flicked up to my reflection and then away. I didn’t want to see the stranger looking back at me. I wondered if my friends shared my feelings, apprehension about our futures and lives, but I had never been brave enough to ask them. They had never mentioned hating how planned out their lives were, and I had never felt close enough to someone to voice my opinions about it. My friends were the daughters of my parents’ friends. Nothing in my life was of my doing; everything—even friends—had been picked for me. Who was I if I had been sculpted into the mold of what my parents thought I should be?

  After my shower, I dressed in the pale blue Ralph Lauren dress my mother wanted me to wear and matched it with a pair of strappy sandals. Going to my walk-in closet, I chose my navy Marc Jacobs purse and transferred stuff from my Chloe one. My mother was a stickler for matching.

  Seventeen minutes later, I met my mother downstairs. She stood in front of the tall window in our parlor, one arm wrapped around her thin waist. She raised her glass, which I noticed was fuller than the one I had seen her with earlier, to her lips.

  “Ready,” I said, and she turned, bringing a shaky hand up to her face. I noticed tears stained her cheeks. It wasn’t the first time I had witnessed her crying. She preferred if I didn’t ask her what was wrong, blaming it on unstable hormones and joking about getting older. I knew she was lying, but we had never been close so I left it alone and turned a blind eye, just like Daddy did.

  “Give me a moment,” she said, heading down the long hallway that led into the kitchen. Wasn’t it sad that seeing my mother in tears seemed normal? These were the sorts of things that I was starting to question. Before a couple weeks ago, I never examined anything. It wasn’t until I saw Dylan in town in grease-stained clothes that my mind started analyzing my life. No matter how many sneers he got, he didn’t seem bothered about his appearance. I envied his carefree demeanor and started to wonder if I could ever get
to a level that comfortable. I guess it was easy for him, though; nobody expected anything from him.

  I shouldered my purse and headed out to our wrap-around porch. I loved my home and couldn’t imagine trading it in for a tiny dorm within a week. The air was warm against my face and the sun bathed the landscape in its balminess. Tall oak trees lined our drive, their Spanish moss swaying gracefully with the gentle summer breeze. Our property rested on ten acres. To the right of our home was the stable barn, and behind it was a large in-ground pool I had sunbathed next to every summer. I had a feeling my life would never be that easy again.

  “Brooke?”

  My mother’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. I spun around and blinked, noticing she fixed the mascara smudges.

  “Let’s go; we’re already late.”

  “Come on, man, you owe me,” I said, flipping my baseball hat backward. I wiped my greasy hands on a rag and tucked it into my back pocket.

  “For what?” Jase lifted the hood to a ‘99 Ford Taurus, securing it with the support rod. His sandy blond hair stuck out at his ears and sweat collected along his dirty face. He was a good two inches shorter than I was, but built like a fucking brick house. He had channeled his anger issues into working out three times a week.

  “For that time I saved your ass from punching Sheriff McDonald. You’d be rotting in a jail cell had I not stopped your dumbass.”

  Jase leaned over the car to inspect the engine. “I was under the impression my debt was paid in full last night for kicking out that douchebag.” He stood up and gave me a look that said he wanted an explanation.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “the two aren’t equal. I saved you from jail time, and you just escorted a dude from a party.” I held out my hands, palms facing up, and moved them up and down as if I was weighing something.

  “What was up with that?” Jase asked, reaching his hand into a tight spot next to the engine. His body turned to the side so he could reach farther, and his eyes connected with mine. “What the hell were those two doing at your sister’s party anyway? I didn’t know Dana was friends with Brooke Kingsley.”

  “She isn’t,” I said. “She just invited everyone from her graduating class. I don’t think she expected her to show up.” A small smile graced my lips at winning that little bet. Dana had been a good sport and sang, “I’m a Little Teapot,” in front of everyone. By then, everyone was trashed and wouldn’t remember it this morning. I made sure, though, to record it on my cell.

  “You two looked pretty cozy last night,” Jase said with a wink. “She the reason you want me to take your shift today? Here, hold this.” He handed me a flashlight. I shined it onto the engine so he could see better. “Are you fucking Roseville’s princess?” A wide smile spread across his lips, and he laughed. “Shit, dude, you are.”

  I punched him in the shoulder. “We’re not sleeping together. We’re just … hanging out. I think she’s bored and wants to see what life is like outside of the mansion.”

  I noticed Brooke her first year of high school. Even then, she was beautiful, but over the past three years, she filled out nicely. My senior year I started noticing her eyes on me in the hallways and the shy way she would look away when I captured her gaze. At the time, I thought it was a harmless crush, but then I ran into her in town a couple weeks ago and that same hungry glint brightened her eyes. I can’t explain how it made me feel—without sounding like a pussy—but it felt good for someone like Brooke Kingsley to look at me like that.

  “But you want to?” Jase said, extracting a broken belt from the engine.

  “Dude, come on, are you going to cover for me or not?” I wasn’t comfortable with my best friend’s interrogation. If I took off work to hang out with any other girl, Jase wouldn’t think twice about it. The people around here treated the Kingsleys like they were actual royalty—celebrity in a small town and shit.

  “Yeah, man, I’ll cover for you, but you have to take my shift Saturday.”

  “Deal.” I was happy to take his shift because I needed the money. I’d been working as much overtime as my boss would allow, saving up. No matter how much partying I did, I made sure to get my ass into work on time. Mechanics didn’t make much, but I had it on good authority that my boss was thinking about selling the business within the next year. Jase and I talked with Betty from Roseville Savings and Trust about being pre-approved for a loan. We just needed twenty percent down, and it was ours. We both knew Roseville was it for us, and working on cars was all we were good at. Once Jim sold the business, there was no telling what it would become. Harriet’s Restaurant had been bought last year and was now a real estate office.

  Around eleven, I headed back to our apartment, showered, and changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that read: Country Boys Do It Better. I couldn’t wait to see Brooke’s eyes when she saw the suggestive phrase. She was so damn innocent, the smallest things made her blush. There was something about being the one responsible for that blush that turned me on, like it meant she was thinking thoughts as dirty as mine.

  My cell phone rang, filling the apartment with my ringtone, “Sweet Home Alabama.” Snatching it up, I saw Dana’s name on the screen.

  “What’s up?”

  “My car isn’t starting, and I’m supposed to be meet Grady in Harper in forty minutes.”

  I grumbled quietly, checking the time. I had thirty minutes before I was supposed to meet Brooke at Lilac Pond, but I’d do pretty much anything for my little sister—and she knew it.

  “Is there gas in it?”

  “Yes,” she made a disapproving huffing sound. “I ran out of gas once, and you hold it over my head. You coming over or having Jimmy come and tow it?”

  “I’m not at The Pit. I took a half day,” I said. “I’ll be over, but you’re not the only one with plans.”

  “You took a day off? Why, do you have a court date or something?”

  “Ha, very funny. No, and it’s none of your business. See you in a few.” The line went silent. I grabbed my keys and my black baseball hat off the sofa, slipping my cell into my pocket.

  I had no idea what I was supposed to wear to a pond or what we were doing. I settled on a pair of linen shorts, a purple silk tank top, and ballet flats. When my mother asked me where I was going, I lied and said James and I were hanging out. I just hoped he didn’t stop by and ruin my story. I hadn’t talked to him since last night and, as far as I knew, we didn’t have any plans for today.

  I took the turn for Lilac Pond, my heart hammering in my chest. As I rounded the curve in the road that opened up to the lake, I released a shaky breath. I parked off to the side, tilting the rearview mirror to check my makeup. My eyes went to the clock, noting I was ten minutes late, and Dylan still wasn’t here. Maybe he was standing me up. I almost hoped he would. As much as I wanted to see him again, I knew how easily I lost myself whenever he was around. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in this boy when I was leaving for school in three days. Whatever it was we were doing had an expiration date.

  Grabbing my phone, I got out of my car and pressed the lock button on the key fob. Stepping over the tall grass, I walked around my black Mercedes and leaned my butt against the hood. I ran my fingers through my hair, shifting my weight to my other leg. I was so much more nervous today than I had been last night. I may have gone to the party for the sole purpose of seeing Dylan, but he hadn’t known that. Today, he knew I was here specifically for him. If he even showed up. Maybe he had been joking about meeting. At least no one was here to witness my embarrassment if he stood me up.

  My cell phone rang in my hands, belting out Lily’s ringtone: “Don’t Stop the Music” by Rihanna.

  “Hey,” I answered, “how’s campus life?”

  Lily wanted James and me to leave with her, but James had his cousin’s wedding to go to, so we decided I would just drive up with him afterward. Our parents had made sure that Lily and I were each other’s roommates, probably by donating money to the school.

 
; “It’s like the coolest thing ever, Brooke,” Lily gushed. “And holy hell are there some hotties here. Our room is small, but we only have to live in it for a year, and then we’ll move in with Delta Iota Nu. Other than sleeping, I doubt we’ll be in here much. Your boxes arrived yesterday and are waiting for you to unpack them.”

  Lily and I were both legacies of our mothers’ sorority, Delta Iota Nu. It was the reason why I was going to the University of Alabama. Ever since I was in junior high, my mother made a big deal about me following in her polished footsteps. Originally, I wanted to go to school in Tennessee, but my daddy made sure I changed my mind by threatening not to pay for my tuition. He had told me I was being insensitive to what my mother wanted for me, which I found ironic coming from his lips. Now that I was going to ‘Bama, I was excited. It meant I would only be an hour from home and have familiar faces around campus. A lot of kids from our high school decided on UA out of loyalty to Alabama.

  “Awesome,” I said in my fake excited voice. “I cannot wait to leave Roseville.”

  “You’re leaving in two days, right?”

  Music echoed through the field, causing me to lift my head. A big maroon truck pulled up to the lake, Dylan’s face visible through the windshield. I lifted my arm to look at my watch. He was fifteen minutes late. If Lily hadn’t called, I would have left already. He parked beside my car, smiling at me through the open window.

  “Where are you?” Lily asked, having heard Dylan’s blaring radio.

  “I gotta go,” I told her, hoping to hang up before Dylan said anything. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Wait—”

  I hung up before she started asking questions I couldn’t answer and met Dylan’s green eyes. He looked so damn good in faded jeans and a tight gray t-shirt that suggested Country Boys Do It Better. I had never been more tempted to test that theory than I was right now. He was wearing a fitted baseball cap backward, and I don’t think I’d ever seen a boy look that adorable before.