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I do as I’m told, and when I look up I see Parker flicking a cigarette butt into the shrubs before making his way back up the steps. Didn’t put up any sort of a fight, which doesn’t surprise me one bit.
I steal a quick look over to see her mouth fixed in a firm line, eyes straight ahead.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she answers.
Yeah, our last encounter ended on a sour note.
When Nicky’s brother opens the opposite door and gets into the back with us, Sarah has no choice but to perch on my lap. The car is a little piece of crap, and there’s barely enough room for one full-grown person in this back seat, let alone three.
She scoots up as far out of my lap as she can possibly get, but it’s no use. I shift back trying to create a few inches of space between her ass and my body, but every time Nicky hits a pothole, she slides right back into me.
Nicky seems to be hitting the brakes hard at the stop signs and red lights, and taking off fast when the lights turns green. Sarah’s body is stiff and her cheeks are turning red, either from embarrassment or from the effort it’s taking to hold herself completely still. I try to catch Nicky’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but all I catch is the smirk he’s sporting. He’s finding this funny.
“Where am I dropping you, sweetheart?” Before she can answer, he says, “No wait, let me guess...Your shore house, right? Which isn’t to be confused with your regular house, your ski house or your fancy digs in the city.”
Mike says, “Give it a rest, Nicky. You offered her a ride so let’s just bring her home.” He’s been uncharacteristically quiet in the front seat, which tells me he’s still pissed that I insisted on leaving the party.
“I didn’t offer shit. You and Prince Charming back there offered her the ride.” He pulls a U-turn. “I need to meet a guy on Pacific. We’ll swing by there on the way. It’ll just take a second.”
Mike turns his head, gauging to see if Nicky’s fucking around or not. We all know what kind of guy you’d meet on Pacific Avenue, even if it wasn’t common knowledge that Nicky deals. Just about all of the streets surrounding the casinos are crime-ridden, but the spot he’s threatening to swing by is no joke.
I can see her reflection in the rearview mirror too, and to her credit she doesn’t flinch.
“Drop us at my house, Nicky. We’re not taking her there.”
“It’d do her good to see how the rest of the world lives.” When his eyes meet mine in the mirror, he backs off, turning the car to head back to the mainland. “I see how it is, Murphy. You want to collect your reward for coming to the little lady’s rescue tonight, don’t you?”
I just shake my head and do my best to ignore him. Nicky isn’t someone to fear, but he can be unpredictable and I’m not looking to test him. I just want to get Sarah out of his car, drop her home and put this shitty night to bed.
Mike isn’t talking to me at the moment, which is comical when I think about it. I gave up a shift, an easy hundred for this. We were supposed to hang out tonight, but no, he had to fuck it all up. And for what, to suck up to some rich douchebags who aren’t the least bit amusing? I want to ask him where he’s going when he hops out of the car at my house, but I’m not angry enough to leave him behind to make house calls with Nicky and his brother.
Sarah is barefoot when she gets out of the car. She’s holding her shoes in one hand and has her arms wrapped around her middle. Her dress has ridden up but she hasn’t noticed. I’m not about to point this out to her; she looks uncomfortable enough as it is. I’m hoping she doesn’t step on any broken glass but can’t take the time to inspect the sidewalk. If I do I’ll see what she sees, and I don’t want to.
“Wait here,” I tell them both as I lift the old-style latch on the chain link gate. I don’t know what I’ll find inside, but it’s Saturday night, so odds are good that my stepfather will be drinking beers on the couch while sporting a wife-beater tank that hugs his flabby middle.
Taking the front steps two at a time, I try to overlook the dried-out, overgrown weeds that pass for a front lawn, the rust from the gutters that left a brown stain trailing down the cheap aluminum siding in several spots, and the garbage cans left out in full view, overflowing with Jeff’s empties. I usually tidy up outside, but when I left here the other day I was fuming at my stepdad. I wouldn’t clean up his mess on principle. Kind of regretting that decision now.
I clench my teeth, knowing I’m going to do something stupid if he gets in my face right now. I’m already envisioning the scene that’s about to unfold when I ask to borrow my mom’s car. My mother will say yes, he’ll laugh in my face and tell me no, they’ll start fighting loud enough to be heard outside and it will go downhill from there. The house is pathetic enough, I don’t need her getting a front-row seat to the dysfunction that is my family.
I’m breathing a sigh of relief when I see that Mom is home but not Jeff. My sister is sitting with my mom at the kitchen table drinking wine.
“Where’s Andrew?”
I’m in a rush, but I’d never breeze past my nephew without a high five or a hug. I love that kid, and between his loser of a father and his grandpa Jeff, I see myself as the only positive male role model in his life, which is saying something coming from a high school dropout.
“Carl took him fishing.”
I’m legit surprised because that’s the kind of thing a fathershoulddo. “Where?”
“Surfcasting down at the beach,” Lorraine answers. “This is a nice surprise.” She comes over to give me a hug. “What have you been up to?”
I shrug when I tell them, “You know, working and stuff.” Looking to my mom, I know my expression is pleading when I ask, “Can I borrow your car for a little while? I have to drop a friend off at home and then I’ll be right back. Just for an hour, tops.”
“The keys are by the door. And there’s no rush...Jeff is working tonight and I’m not in until the afternoon tomorrow.”
“So I can drop the car off in the morning on my way to the club?”
