He slammed the car to a stop in front of the clapboard siding home that was hers. Then he snapped over her lap and flung the door open. “Get out.”
“Easy,” Bree said. “Ask your sister. It’s true. They were al over each other.” She got out, smiled and waved. “Bye.” She’d barely shut the door when Cort peeled away from the curb.
Cort pinned Lizzie with a glare through the rear view mirror and Lizzie shrunk against the back seat. “Tel me she was lying.”
“Um. She was lying?”
“You were in Kissing Corner with Todd?”
“That part was a lie,” Lizzie admitted. “It wasn’t Todd. I don’t even know Todd.”
“Who? Tel me, Lizzie. I’l find out anyway.”
“Hudson Blair.”
Cort slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know what a—I – I—”
Words stammered out. “Lizzie, he’s like—the worst. He was on the team with me, and that guy’s not even human with girls.”
Lizzie’s lips curved up. “I’d have to disagree.”
Cort whipped around and lunged. The only way he could ease frustration was to beat some sense into her head. But he stopped, slumping over the back seat instead. “Lizzie, he’s a jerk. He uses girls like toilet paper. Did anything happen?”
“We just met. Nothing’s happened—yet. And if it did you’d be the last person I’d tel . Get over it. I’m fifteen.”
“You’re a baby.” He started the car again, glaring at her through the mirror. “You’re not talking to him.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then I’m tel ing Mom.”
Lizzie fel against the bench with a grumble. “You can’t.
Come on, Cort. You’ve liked girls who are bad for you, haven’t you? What about Bree? I seem to remember when you thought life was over if she didn’t like you.”
“I’ve learned a lot since then. People like that are poison.”
“That’s why you gave her a ride home?”
“I gave her a ride home because it was rude not to.”
“And I talked to Hudson because it was rude not to.”
“You were in Kissing Corner! People don’t go there to do research.”
“You hypocrite! I’ve heard about you in Kissing Corner.”
His anger gave way to shock. “You have?”
“Girls have to take numbers.”
“That is such crap.”
“And you’re getting al over me because I’m going to prom with Hudson Blair.”
Cort whirled around and the car swerved. “Prom? You are not—no way are you going to senior prom with Hudson Blair. I’l tel Mom what a—”
“Please, Cort, please.” She lunged forward. “You can’t tel Mom. He’s so hot. Do you realize what this would do for my image?”
Cort’s glare silenced her, sent her back against the seat with a curse under her breath. He knew exactly what this would do to her image. No way would he let a dog like Hudson Blair within two feet of Lizzie if he had to lock her in her bedroom prom night himself. “I’m tel ing mom,” he final y said.
Lizzie let out a loud, angry sigh. “I’m going whether you or her like it or not.” Lizzie folded her arms across her chest.
“No one can stop me.”
Cort looked at her through the mirror with his lips pinched. Just watch me.
Cort dropped Lizzie off and promised he’d tel Mom when he got home from work, since he was late and she wasn’t even home yet. Then he jammed to Miss Chachi’s, his cel phone in one hand as he drove.
Two people were being retards about prom – Lizzie and Ben. And he knew just how to fix their problem.
“Ben?”
“Dude.”
“You asked anybody to prom yet?”
“Not yet. Was gonna soon.”
“You’re not gonna ask Bree, are you?”
“I am.”
“Dude, you can’t. She’s a loser.”
“Beg to differ with you, man. She’s total y hot and just because you’ve been there, done that, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t go there, do that.”
“I haven’t been anywhere or done anything with Bree.”
Thankful y, Cort thought now. “You’ve gotta take Lizzie.”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah. Come on, dude. She’s—” Cort couldn’t bring himself to say his sister was hot, that was just plain sick. “She wants to go.”
“But…she’s your sister.”
“I know, I know. You guys are cool, right? You know each other. It’l be fun. She likes you, she told me.” A long time ago, Cort thought. But if he could get Lizzie’s mind off Hudson, and onto one of his friends he knew and trusted things would be okay.
“She’s fifteen.”
“And you’re seventeen.”
“She’s your sister.”
“Come on, you know you want to.”
“I want Bree, dude. Bree wil … things wil happen with her you don’t want happening with Lizzie.”
Cort gripped the phone until his knuckles whitened. His plan was dying and he was holding onto nothing. He pul ed into the parking slot in front of Miss Chachi’s.
Cort saw Miss Chachi waving at him from the front window to come inside. “I gotta get to work.” He got out, locked the car. “Think before you ask Bree, man.”
It was obvious to Cort that Ben could care less about survival; the guy was in it for the moment.
“You late!” Miss Chachi escorted him to his table and pushed him into his chair. He would have laughed had he not been distracted with the prom problem. If Ben took Bree, that meant Bree would be in their group and that would be the worst.
“You have two customers waiting.”
Cort glanced up front where Maria de Silva sat in the waiting area. He waved her over, and looked at the older woman sitting next to her watching him. She must be my new client. He smiled briefly just to be friendly. She didn’t smile back.
“Hey, Maria. What’s up?”
Maria sat, extended her hands. “Not much.”
“Get asked to prom yet?”
“Todd Doyle asked me.”
Cort took her hands, rubbed over her nail beds with his fingers. “Oh, yeah? Is that good or bad?”
“Good. I’ve only been giving him signals for about five months now.”
Cort picked up his cordless nail file. “Guys can be dense.”
“I think he likes Rachel. Aren’t you taking her?”
He looked up, nodded. “They’re friends.”
“Yeah, but he looks at her the way I look at him.”
Cort clicked off his filer. “How’s that?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
Maria blushed. Then she leaned close. “Al dreamy-eyed and stuff.”
“Huh.” Cort started filing again. He’d never given it a name but as he thought about looking at Rachel, the way her eyes lit and changed when she looked at him. Was that the way he looked at her? Maybe Rachel looked that way at every guy. “So,” he started. “Todd asked you, right?”
Maria nodded. “I’d have to be pretty desperate to ask a guy to prom. I mean, it is a boy’s choice dance.”
“I know.” What he real y wanted to know was had Maria seen Rachel looking at Todd that way lately. “You think he likes you? Todd?”
“Probably not. But, hey, I get an evening to try and convince him of what he’s missing, right?”
“Right.”
She leaned close. “So how do I do that?”
Cort stopped filing for a second, unsure of what to tel her. Truth was, if the guy wasn’t interested, an atomic bomb wouldn’t bring her to his attention.
“You seem to know if a guy is interested. If he’s giving you signs, then be friendly and stuff. Go with the signs.”
“Hmm.”
“If a gu
y likes a girl, he lets her know,” he continued.
“Unless he knows she’s not interested, and he’s just taking whatever she gives him to stay friends.”
“I think that’s what Todd’s doing with Rachel. She seems to have a lot of guys that like her.”
Cort didn’t like the idea of that. “Yeah.” They talked about what Todd had planned for the evening, and for the day date: A trip up the canyon to play at Sundance fol owed by lunch in the Gril room. The boys were renting a Hummer limousine for the dance. Cort tried not to think about the guys who’d be at the dance wishing they were with his date.
Suckers.
He smiled.
The woman walked over after Maria left. She stood at his table, looking at his work area, then around the salon with an inquisitive eye.
“Are you Cort?” she asked, extending her hand.
He shook it. “I am.”
“Bonnie Britain.” She sat across from him. She looked about his mother’s age, he thought. Wore a dark suit like his mother did. Her hair was pul ed straight back. She kept a pleasant, half-smile on her face.
“I’ve heard you’re the man to see for nails in Pleasant View.” She extended her hands and he looked at perfectly done nails.
“Those look great. Did you just get them done?”
“I want another color,” she told him with a little smile.
“OPI’s Rootbeer Float wil work.”
“Uh, okay.” He stood and went to where Miss Chachi displayed her polishes, took the glazed brown shade and sat back down. He grabbed a cotton bal .
“You like doing nails?” she asked.
He rubbed the acetone-soaked bal over her nails, removing the red color. “Yeah. It’s fun. It’s been pretty interesting too.”
“I’l bet—the only man working with al of these women.
I’ve heard you bring in a lot of business.”
He shrugged, felt his cheeks warm. “I guess.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Since it opened three months ago.”
“Looks like a nice place.”
He glanced up and caught her scanning the place.
“What other services does Miss Chachi provide in the salon?”
“Manicures, pedicures, fil s, ful sets. Massages.”
Her eyes focused on his. “Do you do al of these things?”
Something about the way she looked at him made his face muscles tense. “Yeah.”
She nodded, smiled. “How old are you, Cort? About seventeen?”
“Yeah. But I’l be eighteen in April.”
“I have a son your age. You a senior this year?”
He nodded, threw away the soiled cotton bal .
“Where do you go to school?” she asked, studying his work permit.
She asked too many questions and even if he wasn’t a little kid anymore, the warning he felt inside was there. “PV.”
“My son goes to AF.”
Probably al lies, he thought. Then he felt stupid. She was a lady, a harmless lady, a new client and nothing else. “What’s his name?” he asked and looked right at her.
She didn’t even blink. “I get my nails done regularly at the mal . If you’re as good as I’ve heard you are I’l come back.”
But you won’t answer my question, he thought and decided to get back to work and get this job done.
She left, and gave him a five dol ar tip. He’d had bigger, but he didn’t expect her to leave any. He couldn’t say why.
NINETEEN
Cort tucked another long day with high-pitched gossip under his belt and took the steps up to the back door of home. Inside, the house was dark but for a distant light which meant his mother was at work in her office. He went there.
She stil hadn’t changed from her suit and he glanced at his watch. Ten-forty-five. “Mom?”
She looked up, slipped the glasses from her nose. “Come in for a second, Cort.”
Her tone warned him. He waited in front of her desk.
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you tel me you were working at Miss Chachi’s?”
He’d strangle Lizzie. “Liz tel you?”
“No. Back to my question, please.”
“Uh. I was embarrassed.”
His mother sat back, studied him. Lawyer-mode. “Did you know that you had to be licensed to do nails?”
Cort’s heart started to pound. “No.”
“Wel you do. Miss Chachi, how did she train you?”
“She just showed me. Why?”
“Because she’s broken the law, Cort. She’s supposed to hire licensed nail technicians that have gone to school for two years.”
“Two years?”
“The police shut the salon down tonight.”
“What?”
She nodded. “An undercover policewoman broke it today.
Apparently your Miss Chachi has done this in five other states, employing under-aged, under-trained people. She was running from one lawsuit in Texas, in fact. One of her employees wasn’t properly trained, damaged a woman’s nails irreparably and the woman filed a suit.”
The blood in Cort’s head rushed to his gut. “No way.”
“Those girls she had working there? She was taking some of their money off the top for herself.”
He couldn’t believe it. The woman he’d talked to today—
he’d given her a fresh coat of polish and answered al of her probing questions.
“The police wil want a statement from you. Don’t worry. Although it made me look incredibly foolish that I didn’t know you were employed by the woman, I made sure they knew you were innocent. I figured you had to be, you wouldn’t have taken a job doing ladies’ nails if you hadn’t been deceived.”
Cort slid into a chair. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t believe you never told me.”
He looked at her. “Sorry. I was—it was a little lame to admit I’d taken any job I could find.” He shook his head. “I should have known. It seemed too good to be true.”
“It always is. How was it, anyway?”
“Pretty cool, actual y.”
His mother’s brow lifted. “Al those females? I’l bet it was.”
“What about the girls? The other nail techs, did they know?”
“I don’t know that yet.” His mother leaned over her desk when she saw the confusion on his face. “Injustice is everywhere, Cort. You won’t see any more money from it. The lawsuit in Texas wil eat up any monies left.”
Cort slumped back. Prom. He’d have to find another job.
“City council wil have a field day with this. Whoever al owed her to set up the business wil lose their head, and rightly so.”
Cort thought about the revenue Miss Chachi’s had brought—he’d helped to bring the sleepy little downtown section of Pleasant View.
“I tried to find you tonight. You didn’t take your cel phone?”
He pul ed it out of his pocket. The battery was dead.
“Dead.”
“Where were you?” she asked. He’d be in the frying pan now that she knew he hadn’t come clean about where he worked.
“At work, I swear.”
Her right brow lifted. “Anything else I should know?”
“I’m going to prom.”
“With?”
“Rachel Baxter. She’s a cool girl.”
“On a scale from one to ten, how invested are you in Rachel?”
“Uh, about a nine point nine.”
His mother’s smile pleased him. “Very good. Wel . Maybe you can tel me how I’m going to break your sister of the delusion that she’s going to senior prom when she’s only a sophomore. Any ideas?”
“Yeah. Don’t let her.”
“That’s a given. Isn’t Hudson Blair one of your footbal friends?”
Cort nodded. “You don’t want Lizzie anywhere near him.”
“I’ve told her no but you know Lizzie. She thinks she’s Pol yanna. Sh
e’l climb down the outside wal to go.”
And get more than a broken back if she goes with Hudson, Cort thought. “She can’t go, Mom. The guy’s a wolf.”
His mother’s brow cocked. “She’s set on it.”
“I tried to get Ben to ask her but he’s taking Bree.”
“I don’t want her going, period. She’s too young and hormonal to be alone with any boys.”
“I can pick up a new door knob with a lock at the hardware store,” Cort suggested lightly. His mother tilted her head with a smirk. “Sorry,” he said.
“This is where I want to strangle your father – again,” she lamented. “Lizzie needs a man’s hand.” She shook her head, remorse coloring her eyes.
Cort felt a flash of anger at his absentee father, guilt that his mother had to carry the load alone. “What are you going to do?”
She leaned forward, rubbed her face with her fingers.
“Suggest she have a sleepover with her friends and set the alarm with a new code. I don’t know. Do you think any of her friends are going?”
He shrugged. He real y didn’t know what Lizzie and her friends did.
“Wel ,” her mother sighed. “I’l figure something out. I need to get back to these papers. Goodnight.”
Cort went right to Lizzie’s room. The light shone underneath the door and he didn’t bother knocking. She was lying on the floor on her stomach, painting her nails a bright orange shade.
“Hey! You’re not al owed,” she shot over her shoulder.
“I am when you’re being an idiot. That’s an ugly color.”
“Just because you worked, and I emphasize the past tense of the word, worked, at a nail salon, does not give you—”
“I could care less about your nails, Liz.” He squatted down next to her. “You can’t give Mom a hard time about prom. I won’t al ow it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And who are you? Last I checked Dad split five years ago.”
“Stop it. She’s under stress.”
“Yeah because she just found out her son was working for a fugitive.”
“Cut the drama,” he snapped, plopping next to her. “You can’t go to prom with Hudson. She’s going to let you have a sleepover with your friends and you’re going to say yes or I’m going to tel her about your little explorer channel adventure in Kissing Corner.”