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“He doesn’t want you to think he’s gay.”
“Seriously? He thinks I care if he’s gay or not?”
“No, it’s not about that. He’s not gay, Chloe, and he doesn’t want anyone, even you, thinking he is. He’s just… picky. His last girlfriend ruined him. She was it for him and since her, he hasn’t dated anyone.”
“If she was that important to him, why aren’t they together anymore? Why doesn’t he get her back?”
“It’s not that simple. And it’s not my story to tell. If you really want to know, you’ll have to ask him. Give him about an hour, though. I’m sure he’ll be down at the pond and cooled off by then.”
Smirking at Wyatt, I nudge him with my foot and pick up my pencil. Writing my idea down, Wyatt nods. We begin packing up our things just as Becky comes over with our burgers and fries.
“Where are you two headed?”
“Down to the pond to find Jones. I need to apologize,” I reply, closing my notebook before she can see what I wrote.
“Want these to go, then?” she asks, her question directed at Wyatt.
“I can box them up, Mom. Thanks.”
Taking the baskets from her, Wyatt heads in back to package up our food and grab a few other provisions. Knowing I need to keep Becky occupied for a few minutes, I place my hand on her arm to get her attention.
“I’m sorry if I caused you to worry,” I say. “Something I said to Jones led him to bring that girl here. It was an accident, but I saw the look on your face. You don’t need to worry about him. We’re going to find him and make things right. I promise.”
“Thanks, Chloe. I know you would never hurt him, but I worry about that boy like I do my own kids.”
Nodding, Wyatt appears in the hall to the bathrooms and motions for me to wrap it up. Pulling my bag high on my shoulder, I hug Becky goodbye.
“Did you get it?” I ask as soon as the back door closes behind us.
“Of course I did,” he replies. “We need to stop for soda, though.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re down by the pond and Wyatt is building a fire. Just as the sun is starting to set over the water, Jones walks up and plops down next to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, handing him a red plastic cup filled with his favorite liquid.
“Me, too. I knew Veronica was a tramp, but I had no idea she was the one Josh left you for.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say taking a sip, before coughing at the potency of the mixture. “I do care about you, though, and I know you deserve better than that piece of trash.”
“Tell her, man,” Wyatt says, taking a seat on the other side of me. “She deserves to know.”
Nodding his head, Jones takes a large gulp of his drink, finishing it off in only a few swallows, and tossing the plastic cup in the fire.
“Want another?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
“Like I would turn down rum and Cherry Coke. Especially if we’re going to have this conversation.”
“You don’t have to, you know. It’s not like it’s life or death if I know or not.” Reaching over for another can of Cherry Coke, Jones’s words stop me as I’m about to pull the tab.
“But it is. It’s death. She died.”
His words float on the breeze, the heaviness of them washing over me. It’s my turn to take a gulp of my drink, the cherry flavor of the coke not strong enough to mask the strength of the rum.
“So what are you drinking?”Jones asks when I don’t reply, the memories of that night overwhelming me. I can still feel my heart ache for him, for his loss.
“How about a rum and Cherry Coke,” I say, a sly grin crossing my face when I see the realization in his eyes.
“Anything for you, Chloe.”
