“Are you still mad at me?” I asked Adam.
He worked his jaw, still staring a hole through me, but he didn’t say a word. He flicked his lighter again.
“Fine.” I opened the driver’s door and slid out of the cab very, very slowly, letting my skirt ride up waaaaaaay too high to escape the notice of the parking lot. I calculated the precise height at which it would reveal the super-sexiness of Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup and stopped there, so that my phantom sex panties remained forever my secret.
“Lori—,” Adam growled.
I jumped down from the cab and slammed the door. Ha! Try that teen soap-opera business on me, would he? I was way ahead of him. I had stepped up my MTV intake for precisely this reason.
As I passed McGillicuddy, I called, “You and I are going to have a talk when we get home, young man.”
He glared at me. “Are you sure you want to ride home with Parker after what he did?”
“He didn’t do anything, as Adam will tell you. Both of you were taken in by a running back who can’t tell la casa from qué pasa.” I flounced around the back of the Beamer—Adam had parked so close to it that there was no room to slip a piece of paper between the bumpers, much less me—and slid into the driver’s side, trailing my long sexy legs behind me for Adam’s benefit (and accidentally kicking over an RC Cola bottle standing upright in the parking space, which somewhat ruined the effect, what with the fizz. Note to self: Sexy exits do not include fizz).
“Parker, I am so sorry,” I gushed as soon as I’d closed us safely inside the car and locked the doors. “I know you’ve met them both before at some point, but in case you’ve forgotten, that’s my boyfriend, Adam, whom we’re trying to get me back together with, and that’s my brother. They know about the plan, but their friend told them that you—” I took a deep breath. I’d just been boasting about my panties to Adam, but I couldn’t even bring myself to tell Parker what the ruckus was about. It was so embarrassing, not to mention far-fetched.
Or was it? According to the rumors, the old hand-up-the-skirt ploy wouldn’t have been new to Parker. However, it definitely didn’t go with the vibe I’d gotten from him since I picked him up for this date. He’d put his arm around me when I’d asked him to in the theater, yes, but he hadn’t tried to go down my shirt, which was standard eighth grade fare in the back row of the movie theater (or so I gathered—not that I knew this from personal experience), and which I wouldn’t have put past him. I’d been willing to take the risk in the name of getting Adam back.
Parker said in a small voice, “Could you get me out of here?”
I looked over at him, his dark hair gelled just so, his shoulders broad in a preppy pink shirt that no male in town would have been caught dead in but that somehow worked on the Birmingham boy. A lot of girls said he had a mesmerizing stare that made them want to take their bras off, but to me it had always looked a lot like bug eyes, and right now he was staring bug-eyed at Adam and McGillicuddy way up in the cab of the truck. They glared right back down at him.
“Sure. Do you want to go back to my house?”
“Will they be there?” he asked, bug eyes never leaving the horrifying threat in front of him.
“Er, no. My brother has a date with his girlfriend. I don’t know what he’s doing here, come to think of it. And Adam wouldn’t dare set foot in my house.” I wasn’t sure this was true. The longer I knew Adam, the more I realized there wasn’t much he wouldn’t dare do, even in the face of my extremely angry father.
Hey, great idea! “Yeah, let’s go to my house.” With Parker quickly losing his enthusiasm for this fake date, I needed to squeeze all the juice out of him while I could. That meant introducing him to my dad. Over the next few days my dad would ask around town about Parker and find out about the many horrors, ideally including the time Parker and his prep school friends filled the famous fountain in the center of Birmingham’s Southside with cheese grits.
Sticking my tongue out at Adam—he just turned away—I cranked the engine of the Beamer, looked carefully behind me for football players and monster trucks and RC Colas, and backed out of the space. I half expected Adam to follow right behind me. Half hoped he would. Because that would have given me another chance to argue with him. Arguing with him seemed to be allowed by McGillicuddy and, bad as it was, it was miles better than no contact with Adam at all.
But an entire drive of watching the rearview mirror assured me I’d shamed Adam and my brother sufficiently to shake them off my tail, damn it. As I parked the car in my driveway, I turned my attention back to Parker, who was curled into a ball in the passenger seat, shaking. “Oh God, I’m so sorry about the air-conditioner. Why didn’t you say something?” I’d cranked the cold air all the way up, and Parker was paying the price in frostbite. Not everybody got all hot and bothered when Adam stared at them, apparently.
Parker didn’t uncurl from his ball.
“Hey.” I reached over and rubbed his knee in a friendly warming-your-skin way, not a way that would earn me the hickey from Parker that had been claimed by several sophomore girls whose stories I didn’t entirely trust anymore. “Let’s go in and meet my dad.”
I thought he might regain some of his bravado by the time we got inside. But as I opened the door in the garage and crossed from the kitchen into the den, he continued to trail after me like a kitten with PTSD from being shot with way too many Nerf darts. There was a reason the Vaders’ cat did not often venture out of the master bedroom. Parker would never scare my dad while he acted like this.
I would have to rely on Parker’s reputation getting back to my dad. Then my dad would say, “My goodness, that timid boy is actually a man-slut? By analogy, Adam Vader, who seems to have a death wish, probably has his shit together after all!” Of course, this was the best-case scenario, or perhaps the in-my-dreams scenario. In retrospect, this was one of the reasons my plans had a tendency to backfire.
I walked into the den and stopped so fast that Parker plowed right into me. Dad was sitting on the couch all right, and Frances was curled up next to him.
In a miniskirt!
Well, maybe not a miniskirt. It might have been mid–calf length, and I got the first impression that it was a miniskirt because she usually favored floor-length hippie garb. She’d kicked off her Birkenstocks to reveal freshly painted red toenails. In short, for Frances, she looked adorable. I was sure this was an accident.
“Hi!” I exclaimed as if I’d totally expected my ex–au pair. But I truly hadn’t bargained on Frances being there. This threw a monkey wrench in my plans, though I wasn’t sure yet whether it was a big sucker like a pipe wrench or something that would be easier for me to manage like a little Allen wrench. We all exchanged greetings and I introduced Frances and my dad to Parker.
“Parker Buchanan.” My dad stood and gave him the firm handshake and the full grin he used with clients. “Nice to see you again.”
“Yes, sir.” Parker sounded as if he might faint.
“All right then!” I announced. “Parker and I are going up to my bedroom.” I figured if this date with Parker had any thrust left with my dad, it was the fact that we were going to hang out in a room with a bed in it. I did not add that when we got to said bedroom, we were not going to make out. We were going to have a long talk about how my dad already knew Parker and why it was nice to see him again.
We started up the stairs, Parker ahead of me, when my dad called, “Lori, can I have a word with you alone?”
Parker paused and turned his traumatized kitten bug eyes on me. I nodded for him to go on into my room. As I bounced back down the stairs by myself, I resisted the urge to rub my hands together with glee. My dad wanted to give me a Talking-To about Parker! Hooray!
I reached the den again and my dad was still grinning, which did not bode well for the Talking-To from the concerned parent. Also, Frances hadn’t budged her organic cotton–covered booty, which confused my interpretation of what my dad had meant by “alone.” I could almo
st see her waving a monkey wrench at me.
“Young lady,” he said, which was a pretty good start for the Talking-To, “I am so proud of you.”
DAMN IT!
“Thank you!” I beamed at him like I knew what the hell he was talking about.
“I have been Parker’s grandparents’ counsel since they founded the yacht club,” he said. “I’ve watched Parker grow up. He’s a terrific student, as I’m sure you know, with designs on Yale. But his grandparents have always been concerned about his social life and frankly, his mental health. He hardly peeks out of his shell at his private school in Birmingham. Then he comes down here to stay with them in the summer, and apparently he tells a lot of tall tales, making himself out to be some sort of Lothario.”
“You’re kidding!” I did not need to fake my astonishment, though I was not astonished for the reason my dad assumed.
“It’s wonderful that you’ve started a friendship with him,” my dad went on. “I’m sure it will do him good.”
I was sure a knuckle sandwich would do him more good, but I refrained from saying this. “Dad, your pride means more to me than you know.” We gave each other a final manic grin and I headed for the stairs again, but not before I caught a glimpse of Frances watching me. She knew I was up to something.
Well, lucky for her and Dad, I was not up to a whole lot at the moment. I slogged up the stairs, into my room, and closed the door behind me.
Parker was sitting on my bed, thumbing through one of the issues of Playboy I’d stolen from McGillicuddy for fashion advice. He threw it back into the drawer of my nightstand and slammed the drawer shut, as if I would be completely fooled by this and had not been the one who put the magazine there in the first place.
I sat next to him on the bed and smiled sweetly at him. “You’re so tense, Parker. You’re not still worried about Adam and my brother kicking the shit out of you, are you? To be honest, I think they’re still mad, but they don’t have martial arts training like you do.”
He stared at me. His eyes were so wide that I swore they were going to rebel and pop right out of his head and wander around the room, looking at whatever they wanted. If they ventured up my skirt, I was going to step on them.
“What am I going to do?” he cried.
“What do you mean, what are you going to do?” I asked him innocently. “You trained in Japan for your black belt. Just get in a good lick or two, and maybe they’ll leave you alone. Maybe, I’m saying. McGillicuddy probably will. Adam might not. Adam doesn’t always respond to negative reinforcement like you’d think.”
“Lori!” Parker cried. “I’m not who you think I am!”
I cocked my head and blinked at him. “You’re not Parker Buchanan, grandson to the Buchanans of the Buchanan Yacht Club, student at a fancy schmancy private school in Birmingham?”
“I am all that,” he admitted, “but I don’t have a black belt.”
I had surmised this already, but I played along. “You don’t?”
“No. And… Lori, can you keep a secret? I have so much bottled up inside me, and the pressure is getting to me.” He swallowed. “I didn’t date Miss Alabama when I was in middle school.”
“You didn’t?” I tried to feign continued interest. But if he wanted to self-debunk, he might go on all night, and frankly I was more interested in what Dad and Frances were watching on the Discovery Channel.
“No. I’m basically just a nerd. I have a 4.0 GPA, and I plan to matriculate at Yale and major in cognitive science with a double minor in statistics and ancient Greek.”
“You don’t.” I stifled a yawn.
“I do. The reason I’m spending the whole summer with my grandparents is that nobody knows me here, and I can be whomever I say I am.”
There were a lot of things about this statement that made me angry. The lie. The fact that I’d been taken in by the lie. His smug tone of voice when he talked about it, revealing himself to be the biggest nerd I had ever met, even nerdier than the kid from my algebra class who collected antique motherboards, and absolutely the worst person I could have chosen to drive Dad into letting me date Adam again.
I said, “Can you be a person who is GONE FROM MY BEDROOM?”
Instead of moving away from me, which I would have much preferred, he scooted closer to me on the bed. “Why are you angry, Lori?”
“Why do I have to explain this to everyone twice?” I ran my hands through my hair and squeezed my head to keep my brain from falling out. “I was trying to go out with Satan so Adam wouldn’t look as bad to my dad. If my dad already knows you have a 4.0 and you know that he knows, why did you agree to go on a fake date with me?”
“You made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Parker said. “You offered to show me around town and introduce me to people. I knew you were popular because you’re always at that party next door.” He nodded toward Adam’s house. Those Friday night parties, ethereal and magical in my memory, admittedly had been excruciating in reality because I’d always been trying to get Sean’s attention. Or, more recently, Adam’s.
“And you’re so pretty.” He scooted even closer to me on the bed and put his hand on my thigh.
Just what I’d waited for all night. And now, not so much. I glared at him.
He wisely removed his hand without further prompting from me. “Lori, come on. Don’t be mad. Aren’t you basically doing the same thing, putting on this big show for your dad to get what you want? You can’t be mad at me for fooling people. Besides, we have to survive another ten minutes in your car together. I don’t have another way home.”
“Why don’t you call your family’s helicopter to come get you,” I suggested, “or did you make that up too?”
“My family does have a helicopter, but I didn’t crash it into the statue of Vulcan in Birmingham. I hope you didn’t believe that part of the story. It only works on twelve-year-old girls.”
“Why are you trying to impress twelve-year-old girls? Are you that desperate?”
He opened his mouth.
“Don’t answer that,” I interrupted. I didn’t want to know.
A knock sounded at the door. I thought about tackling Parker on my bed, but now that I knew my dad saw through Parker’s whole bad-boy lifestyle, there was no point. I didn’t even leap over to Parker and snatch up his hand. “Come in,” I called like a girl without issues.
The door creaked open very slowly.
My heart raced. Adam!
No such luck. It was only McGillicuddy, peering into the room with that now-familiar scowl on his face. “Leave this door open,” he said.
“What are you doing home?” I demanded. “I thought you had a date with Tammy tonight.”
“I do,” he said. “I came home to get my car and take a shower before I go over to her house.”
I thought for a second. “Why are you just now home? What did you and Adam do after we left the movies?”
My brother looked guilty. “Nothing.” With a final dark look in Parker’s direction, he disappeared.
“McGillicuddy,” I called. Now I did drag Parker by the hand after me as I followed my brother into his room.
“That’s why I have to take a shower,” my brother admitted, opening a drawer and extracting a neatly folded T-shirt. He grabbed the center of the T-shirt he was wearing and stretched it out toward me. “Do I smell like kerosene?”
I sniffed tentatively. “A little.” I wondered whether Adam was home taking a shower before his mother could ask him about the peculiar kerosene odor. “If you’re going to Tammy’s anyway, can you drop off Parker at his grandparents’?”
“No!” Parker exclaimed from behind me.
I turned around. I could tell from the way his eyes flitted back and forth that the look on my brother’s face was not any more hospitable than the look on mine.
“I mean…,” Parker stammered. Suddenly he focused over my shoulder, and his eyes lit up. “Is that a B-17?”
I looked where he was looking—at the huge
model of a World War II–era bomber hanging by fishing line from the ceiling. “Why, yes,” I informed him. McGillicuddy had built it from a kit when he was fourteen, and I had applied the decals. It was our pride and joy.
“At home I have a B-17E, with the longer fuselage.” Parker stepped farther into my brother’s room, closing the gap between them. Clearly he had lost his fear of being eaten.
“I always wanted a B-17G, which has six more guns,” my brother said, and with that they lost me. Since I’d been trying to shake some of my grosser tomboy habits, I should have been glad that I was so easily out-boyed by a boy.
“Before I go,” I informed both of them, because clearly it was okay for my brother to take Parker home now, “I have one more favor to ask of Parker.”
I didn’t talk to Lori again for a week and a day. I tried to stop being mad at her about Parker. I knew Reggie had made up the indecent incident at the movies. Trouble was, when Reggie had suggested it, I had imagined it, and in my mind it really happened. Maybe if I’d been allowed to talk to her, I could have gotten over it, but since my dad gave me the evil eye if I so much as looked in her direction, the whole insult of it continued to dog me.
Toward the end of the week I couldn’t stand it anymore. I called Rachel and asked her what she’d done lately about getting Sean back. Unfortunately for her, or fortunately, depending on what you thought of Lori’s plans (and I did not think very much of them), Rachel was not nearly as proactive as Lori. I could have told Rachel that Sean was patient and vengeful. If she didn’t do something, the summer would end and he would go to college without ever asking her out again. He might even pine away for her, if he had room in his very small heart to do that, but it would be worth it to him if she felt bad about breaking up with him.