High School Hangover (18 page)

“If you take a right on Winchester then go straight east, it’ll take you toward the airport and Laney’s dad lives close to the airport,” Kris tells Jack. We’ve pulled into a Graceland parking lot off Elvis Presley Boulevard. Jack decided it would be best for us to drop the seniors off first so that my non-visit with my dad doesn’t cut into their tour of Graceland.

“Okay, got it,” Jack replies confidently. He is standing next to Kris, waiting for him to abandon his post.

“On second thought, I’ll run you kids over there and catch up with the tour later,” Kris says, not moving.

Kris’s hesitation makes me nervous because I know it has nothing to do with not trusting Jack with the bus. Some of the neighborhoods we drove through to get here looked a bit rough. It’s so weird how houses can go from diamonds to turds in the matter of two streets. Not that I have to worry about Dad’s place because I know his condo is divine. Anyplace named “Orange Grove Estates” screams ritzy.

“They’ll be fine, Kris. Let’s go,” Milly tempts him. She pulls on his arm until he finally bounds off the bus looking conflicted.

“I think Kris is right, yeah? I’m gonna ride wit you kids,” Dom announces. Kris seems to breathe easier immediately.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jack insists.

“I’d feel better if he came,” I say, trying to get Bernie out of his seat. As dicey as some of the neighborhoods looked. I just don’t want to be alone with Jack.

“Okay, yeah, it’s settled then,” Dom says, taking a seat directly behind the driver’s seat.

Jack forces back a frown as he slides into the driver’s seat. What could he possibly want to talk to me about anyway? He didn’t want to kiss me. End of story.

“Bernie, you have to get off,” I say, pulling on the sleeve of his polo shirt.

“I want to go with you,” he insists. “I didn’t like Elvis when he was alive, why in the world would I care about him when he’s dead?”

The man has a point. “What about Esther? Did she like Elvis?” I ask, purposely pulling on Bernie’s heartstrings. If Dad happens to be here and decides to take me home, Bernie would have a fit. I know it’s mean to leave without saying goodbye, but I don’t want a big scene.

“
Love Me Tender
was her favorite song,” he reminisces. “She would roll over in her grave if she knew I was here and didn’t go in,” he admits.

“So go. I’ll be back,” I promise. I feel so guilty that I can’t meet his waterlogged eyes.

“Bring her back safe,” he demands of Jack, poking him in the shoulder with his cane. He gives me a last look then carefully maneuvers his way off the bus to join the others. I notice Ginger staring wistfully at Dom as we pull away, which doesn’t help ease my guilt much.

I tell Jack and Dom the address I’ve had memorized for three years. Dad insisted on putting me up in an expensive hotel when I came down last spring for my college visit because his place was under renovation, so I never actually got to see it. Maybe seeing his place will make me feel closer to him.

I stroke the buttery exterior of my purse in anticipation. I’m so glad that I didn’t have to end up pawning it. The neighborhoods are a blur as we zip through them. I doubt Jack would admit it, but I bet he’s kind of glad that Dom is with us.

Jack whips the bus into a cul de sac in front of four rundown brick buildings. He stops then turns to me, smiling.

“We’re here,” he announces.

I look at the decrepit building and realize Jack must have made a terrible mistake. A giant sign in the lawn says Orange Grove Estates and the building directly left of the bus has the address number I memorized. Maybe there are some fabulous condominiums hidden behind this dump.

“We’re going to go with you,” Jack insists, and Dom nods, charging off the bus. I think Dom might possibly be more excited about this than I am. Especially now.

I walk down the broken sidewalk toward the battered apartment units. Dead plants, half-torn down Christmas lights, and lots of cigarette butts litter the common area around the building. My dad is in unit C, which appears to be on the third level. I timidly climb the steps, hearing shouting come from a nearby unit. Dom either doesn’t hear it or it doesn’t faze him because he continues up, struggling a bit especially since he’s got his machine to carry. Jack throws me an eager smile but I can tell he is trying too hard for it to be real.

When we finally make it to unit C, I don’t even want to knock on the paint-chipped door. I could leave and Dad would never know I was even here.

But I’ve already humiliated myself in front of Jack enough. I don’t know why Dad has this dump listed as his address but there has to be a reasonable explanation. I knock gently on the worn-out wooden door that looks like one good kick would split it right in two.

“What?” a woman yells, throwing the door open. She reminds me of a middle-aged, helmet-haired Snooki, except she’s blonde. Well, kind of blonde, if you don’t count the black three-inch roots. She startles me and I jump back a bit. Jack steadies me as I eyeball her excessively long, zebra-striped fingernails. She could probably dissect me with those things if she wanted to.

“I’m sorry to bother you. We must have the wrong apartment,” I apologize, thankful that I have Dom and Jack behind me because I’m suddenly terrified.

She stands there popping her gum at me, her lilac eye shadow-caked eyes narrowed evilly.

“That’s my bag,” she says outraged, reaching for my purse.

“No, it isn’t,” I say, jerking back.

She lunges at me, getting a nail stuck between the purse straps and my shoulder. I tug away and her nail pops off and lands on a welcome mat so dirty I can’t even make out what the picture used to be.

“Give me my bag,” she screams, a very unattractive vein bulging in her forehead. I’m about to surrender the purse to her and grab the guys and run for the bus when Dom interrupts.

“Where’s Archer?” he demands, in a powerful voice I don’t recognize.

I’m not the only one taken back by Dom’s forcefulness because the woman immediately backs into her apartment and tries to slam the door shut. This is a happy turn of events until Dom’s palm blocks her from shutting the door.

“Archer,” she screams.

How weird. She lives with somebody that has the same name as my dad. But my dad would never spend time with someone so, so, un-Mom like. I literally cannot imagine such polar opposites. Dom shoves the door open and I spot Dad trying to unlock a sliding glass patio door. The look on his face is pure panic and I feel like I did yesterday morning when I woke up in the back of that truck.

“You aren’t going anywhere, Wentworth,” Dom yells. “Cuz I got your purdy little daughter with me.”

Dad stops messing with the door lock long enough to look up and see me standing in the doorway. He looks terrible. He must have lost twenty pounds since the last time I saw him. Purple bags droop under his eyes. I’ve never thought of my dad as looking old until now.

“Oh my God, Laneybug. Did he hurt you?” he asks, pulling me into his chest.

I fantasized about this moment for so long but everything is off. I don’t know this person who is hugging me. I have so many questions.

“I didn’t touch a hair on her head. Whadda think I am, an animal? She’s actually a sweet little thing. Takes after her mudder, I’d guess,” Dom says.

I pull out of Dad’s arms. “Do you two know each other?” I ask in amazement.

Dad stands there looking like a beat dog. Dom seems to slip back into the person I’ve known for the last twenty-four hours.

“Listen, Miss Laney, I hate having to pull you into this, but when I heard yous talking about this guy being your pops,” he says, pointing at Dad, “I jus’ had da come and see for myself it if was really the same lowlife who owes me thirty thousand dollas,” Dom explains.

“Why do you owe him thirty thousand dollars?” I ask, calmly. Even as I ask the question, things are starting to click into place; our online poker matches, Dad moving so far away, and Mom wanting me to change my name. She must have been terrified someone like Dom was going to come looking for me if Dad didn’t pay him back. I suck in a sharp breath as the realization that my dad is not an international businessman, but a con-man, sinks in.

“Dom, this doesn’t have anything to do with Laney. We’re leaving,” Jack demands, although I detect a slight tremor in his voice.

“I’m not gonna lay a hand on none of ya’s. I’m jus’ here to prove a point. I told ya I’d find ya, and I did,” he points at Dad. “Me and you is gonna work out a little repayment plan.”

“You’re a compulsive gambler, aren’t you?” I ask Dad. He looks so pathetic in a stained T-shirt and too big sweats.

“Laney, I never meant to hurt you,” he pleads, trying to touch me. I move back, right into Jack’s arms, although it doesn’t even register how good they feel because I am so numb at the realization that everything out of my father’s mouth has been a lie.

“I don’t even know who you are,” I yell at him. In a fit of rage, I unzip my purse and stuff all my belongings into the pockets of the capris I borrowed from Milly. I throw the now-empty purse at the zebra-claw lady, who is sitting disinterested on the rundown couch watching
Jerry Springer
.

“Sweet,” she says excitedly. I can’t believe that the beloved present Dad got me for graduation was actually something he stole from his shady girlfriend. I should have pawned the worthless thing back in Texas.

“Don’t call me,” I tell Dad, bolting from the apartment with Jack on my heels. I hear Dad yelling for me but I keep running down the rickety stairs until I make it back to the bus. I smack the folding door and it opens enough for me to squeeze through. I want to collapse onto the seat and sob, but instead I sit perfectly still and keep my emotions in check. I’ve been humiliated quite enough on this trip and I’m not going to start bawling like an idiot and make it worse now.

My whole life has imploded within the last few days. I used to think I knew everything and had it all figured out, but now I don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow. Everything and everyone I thought I knew so well were illusions.

Jack gets on the bus and sits down next to me. He’s careful not to touch me and doesn’t say a word. Before long I can’t stand it and I lean into him. He brushes my hair off my face and rubs circles on my back consolingly. It reminds me of a time last year when I had the stomach flu and Mom came into the bathroom and held my hair back while I puked. She didn’t tell me it was going to be okay because we both knew it wouldn’t be until I stopped throwing up. The last thing I want to hear today is that it’s going to be okay because my entire existence got turned upside down. It might never be okay again.

A few minutes later, Dom knocks on the partially opened bus door.

“You’s okay, kid?” he asks.

“I’m fine. I want to leave and never come back here,” I say. Jack releases my shoulders and climbs back into the driver’s seat. I almost laugh when I realize an hour ago my biggest problem was that I had humiliated myself trying to kiss someone who clearly didn’t want to kiss me back. Even though Jack’s touch still has a noticeable effect on me, I’ve got much bigger problems now.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt him,” Dom assures me. “I’m done wit that. That’s why I moved inta Primrose.”

“I understand. You wanted your money. I don’t blame you,” I tell him, and I mean it. Dom isn’t the bad guy in my eyes. If my dad wouldn’t have borrowed the money to gamble with in the first place, he wouldn’t have ever met Dom. I believe Dom. He may have been Tony Soprano in a past life but now he seems more Chef Boyardee.

“Please don’t tell Ginger,” he pleads breathlessly, wiping his sweaty palms on his green track suit pants. “I wan er ta think I’m er Prince Charming,” he tells me. As miserable as I am right now, I still get a small buzz of excitement for Ginger. The guy she is pining for is crazy about her. Okay, so he’s a former Mob boss who wears hideous track suits, speaks only in questions, and probably only has about twenty percent of his lung function, but he loves her. Good for her.

I wonder why Jack hasn’t started the bus yet. I look up to see him standing outside talking on a cell phone. He was ready to defend me against Dom. The realization of this makes me want to kiss him again. Even though he was obviously just protecting me in a friendly way. I really wish he would hurry up because I don’t want to face my dad again. I wonder who he’s talking to?

Wait a minute. The memory of standing in Josie’s kitchen overhearing Jack talking to his mom comes back to me. He had a phone the entire time. Technically it wasn’t a lie since I never asked him if he had a phone. But if he was deceptive about the phone, I can’t help but wonder what else he’s tried to trick me about. Maybe he
is
the one who put me in the truck.

He snaps the phone shut, looking pathetically guilty, and walks back to the bus. Dom, sensing tension, eases himself into a seat without another word. I plop down across the aisle from Dom, not making eye contact with Jack. Jack slips into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. He pulls slowly away from Orange Grove Estates and I hope I never have to see this place again.

“Ya goin the wrong ways,” Dom yells when Jack turns the opposite way of how we came in.

“No, I’m not. That was Laney’s mom on the phone. She wants me to take Laney to the airport because there’s a ticket waiting for her there,” Jack says solemnly.

Holy crap. There are so many questions I want to ask Jack. Like how did Mom find out that I was here? Is she mad? Am I grounded for life? But I don’t give Jack the satisfaction.

It takes just a few minutes to get to the airport terminal. Jack pulls the bus to the side of the curb. My stomach is a mess and even though I want nothing more than to get home, I’m kind of sad that I don’t get to say good-bye to everyone, especially Bernie.

“Just show them your I.D. at the ticket counter,” Jack says, not turning around. He opens the folding doors of the bus.

“No hard feelins I hope, kiddo, huh?” Dom says, sticking out his giant bear paw for me to shake. I nod slightly and shake his hand.

“Good luck with Ginger,” I tell him, meaning it.