One Reckless Summer (17 page)

Jenny had thought through this even more since her eye-opening revelation and had an answer prepared. “I’m officially having a wild affair. And I’ve decided
it’s
okay for me to do that, because I
deserve
some decent sex, don’t I?”

“Amen to that, sister.” They shared a quiet, mini–high five.

“And I’m just not going to think about…you
know,
the negative aspects of the situation.”

“The escaped convict he’s harboring,” Sue Ann said with a shrug, as if it were any other common relationship impediment.

“And even though I will admit to being a little emotionally involved from all the drama that’s led up to this, I’ve got my head on straight about it now. Figuring out that I’m entitled to some good sex after the crap Terrence pulled has helped me to put this in its proper perspective—it’s a summer affair, nothing more.”

Unfortunately, Sue Ann didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’m truly happy for you if you can, uh, do the deed with the guy without getting all wrapped up in him and his problems. And I’m trying really hard to forget the, um, legal dangers blowing in the wind here. But…how are you feeling about not telling your dad?”

Jenny sighed, and her stomach dropped just a little. “Well, that’s the hardest part. But I’m doing what I truly feel is right. Surely he would respect that, don’t you think?”

Sue Ann looked
wholly
skeptical now, but still said, “Um, yeah, sure he would.” Even though they both knew good and well that Walter Tolliver was a lawman to the bone—for him, the law was the law, and there was no gray area, only black-and-white. “But back to the sex,” Sue Ann said.

Jenny lowered her chin. “Is that all you think about? Since when did you become such a
sexmonger
anyway?”

“Since I have a child who’s an amazingly light sleeper and also gets scared anytime Mommy and Daddy close the door to their room.”

“Oh.” Jenny hadn’t known that. And back when she was married to Terrence and having
boring
sex, she wouldn’t have thought it was such a big deal, but now that she was having sex with Mick, she felt Sue Ann’s pain. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Thus, whether or not I remain totally on board with this affair of yours, if you’re gonna have
it,
I want to hear about it. So entertain the old married lady—what’s new in Mick Brody’s bag of sex tricks? Did you do it in the woods again? Against a tree? Standing up? Hanging from a chandelier? Spill.”

Jenny couldn’t stifle her laugh, but she still managed to keep her voice down when she answered. “It was on the couch this time.”

Bitter disappointment colored Sue Ann’s voice when she said, “Really?”

“But it was still totally hot,” Jenny assured her. “As hot as any sex we’ve had.”

“Compared to the woods? Honestly? The couch is just as hot?”

“With Mick—absolutely.” She couldn’t hold in the dreamy sigh that came with remembering.

“Wow,” Sue Ann replied, sounding a little in awe. “You really
have
spiced up my life lately, girlfriend.” Then she looked down the hall, toward the party, so Jenny did, too—in time to see both Tessa and Amy coming in the front door. “Now come on—I’m gonna kick your ass at bunko like only a true Destiny lady can.”

And as she grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled her into the large room where the games were set to begin, Jenny couldn’t help thinking that Destiny was indeed holding for her many things she’d missed but had perhaps not realized how much: Sue Ann’s friendship, her father’s love, and sex that rocked her world.

Mick sat next to
Wayne
’s bed watching a Reds game on the TV Mick had brought from his apartment to set up in what had once been their family’s living room. It was the eighth inning on another scorching afternoon and Jay Bruce was up to bat. The electric fans in the windows hummed, and Mick never stopped being thankful that the trees surrounding the house blocked out most of the sun, or the heat would be unbearable.

Mick hadn’t followed the Reds in years, and he was pretty sure
Wayne
hadn’t, either, but as kids, they’d been fans—watching the games on TV or listening on the radio had been a nice distraction back then. So on a hot afternoon with nothing to do, it had seemed like a good enough distraction now, too.

After Bruce got on first and the game went to a commercial, Mick pushed to his feet. “I’m gonna make a sandwich—you want anything?” Not that
Wayne
ate much these days. But at least his pain had been under control lately.

Wayne
appeared to think about it for a minute, his answer glum. “Peaches, maybe.”

Wayne’s lack of interest in food was one more constant reminder that they were both sitting there waiting for him to die—for a while, he’d eaten regular food, then it had dropped off to just soft stuff, and for the last couple of days, all he wanted were canned peaches. But Mick tried not to feel that as he peeled back the lid on a can, raked some into a bowl—along with the juices, since he’d noticed
Wayne
actually consuming more of the juice than the actual peaches the last day or so—then walked the bowl to his brother along with a spoon. Still, he felt a little numb as he slapped together a ham sandwich for himself, almost guilty for his hunger, his health.

“So, uh, where do you go at night when you leave here, man?”
Wayne
asked out of the blue as Mick walked back into the room carrying the sandwich and a can of Coke.

He sat down, popped the top, took a drink, and suffered more guilt. “I didn’t know you realized I was gone. I only go when I think you’re asleep for the night—or I’d have been here. Sorry, man.”

Wayne
chuckled softly, even if it came out sounding tired. “I wasn’t mad, just wondering. You don’t have to be here every second, dude. I’m…all right, for now. Mostly.”

Yeah, Mick knew that. Despite the fatigue, as long as he kept up with
Wayne
’s pain meds, his brother was on a pretty even keel for the time being—he could change his own clothes, go to the bathroom by himself, and he even occasionally got up and walked outside a few minutes. Although it seemed to Mick like he was doing that less and less the last couple of weeks.

“I’ve been…going across the lake,” Mick said, knowing the news would surprise his brother. He hadn’t told
Wayne
anything about Jenny—the notion of telling his brother he was having sex with a gorgeous girl when
Wayne
would never have sex again had seemed damn selfish. Plus he hadn’t wanted to worry
Wayne
by letting him know someone else knew he was here.

Wayne
looked understandably confused. “Across the lake?”

“You’re gonna think I’m making this up, bro, but…I’m kind of having a thing with Jenny Tolliver. Remember her? Lived across the lake in that little yellow house?”

Wayne
blinked. “You’re
shittin
’ me.”

Mick laughed softly. “I know it sounds pretty fucking unbelievable, but it’s true.”

“How the hell did
that
happen?”

Mick relayed the story without focusing on the sex, but when he was done,
Wayne
’s focus was on the sex. And he seemed just as shocked as Mick had been before he’d started getting used to the idea. “So you’re
tellin
’ me that you’re actually
doin
’ little Jenny Tolliver, the cheerleader with the perfect little bikini.”

For some reason, Mick wasn’t altogether comfortable talking about that part of it—and he didn’t know why, since he and Wayne had always been open about what they were getting from who. So he just said, “Yep.”

Wayne
laughed. “Man, you are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Yeah
,
if you don’t count the part about having to take care of a dying brother and keep it a secret from the whole world.
But he didn’t say that. And he guessed compared to
Wayne
he
was
pretty damn lucky.

Mick finally asked, “Aren’t you even gonna worry about the fact that she’s the police chief’s daughter?”

Wayne
’s expression went grim. “Aw, shit—I forgot about that.”

In Mick’s mind, Jenny had always been tightly linked with her father’s profession, so it was hard to imagine
Wayne
forgetting, but maybe it was the pain meds. “Well, no worries—Jenny won’t tell.”

But now
Wayne
looked as doubtful as Mick had felt until recently. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“She knows we’re not hurting anybody,” Mick explained. “She gets it.”

His lean body stretched out on the bed,
Wayne
seemed to refocus on the ballgame for a minute—then he looked back to Mick. “All I can say is—you better keep that chick happy between the sheets, bro, or we’re both up shit creek.”

Mick chuckled softly. “We haven’t actually, uh, made it between any sheets yet, but keeping her happy isn’t a job I mind, so I think we’re in good shape.”

Wayne
’s hollowed eyes had returned to the TV, but Mick could tell from the pleasant look washing over his face that he was somewhere else in his head. His peaches rested forgotten in his lap. “You ever think about those days?” he asked.

Mick didn’t need to ask him
which
days—he knew good and well. The days when they were old enough to get out from under their parents’ thumbs, get away from the house in a car, or a boat, whatever was
handy.
But before they’d started getting in serious trouble, the kind that had sent
Wayne
away. “Yeah, I do,” Mick said.
Too often.

They weren’t the best of times—they’d still had shitty home lives, and they’d been starting to do stuff that got them on the wrong side of the law. But in another way, they
were
the best times, the best times
he
could remember anyway. Lazy days floating around the lake, watching sweet Jenny Tolliver bask in the sun. Carefree nights riding around in
Lucky’s
old
Camaro
, trying to get their hands on beer, trying to pick up girls.

Just then,
Wayne
shifted slightly in bed, jostling peach juice from the bowl onto his bare stomach—it was so hot that neither had bothered with shirts today and
Wayne
wore only a pair of Mick’s old cotton shorts.
Wayne
cursed softly, and Mick reached in the drawer on the old end table he’d put next to the bed for the napkins he’d stowed there.

A moment later, as he went to shut the drawer, his eyes fell on something—two things, actually—that
he
hadn’t put inside. Both took him instantly back to his boyhood. One was a gray flint arrowhead, perfectly shaped, that they’d found one summer while plowing for a garden on the other side of the ridge, an area that was as steep as the rest of the land, but it was free of trees and got enough sun to grow things. The other was a wrinkled picture of them as boys—standing down by the lake. Mick had been about seven,
Wayne
about ten.

“Damn, you saved these?” Mick asked, drawing them both out. Under normal circumstances,
Wayne
wasn’t a sentimental guy—or maybe, Mick thought
suddenly,
Wayne
just didn’t normally let it show.

Now, though, he didn’t even bother looking sheepish. Whether the change was due to medication or imminent death, Mick didn’t know. “Sure,”
Wayne
said simply.

Mick had nearly forgotten about that arrowhead, but now he remembered how excited they’d been to find it, how it had been the first time he’d really thought about things like history, different people who lived in different times. He’d found the fact that some Indian guy had been here before him, on this craggy, dark piece of ground, somehow comforting. Of course, now he knew that the Indian in question had probably been on a hunting trip, but back then, he’d imagined the Indian living here, right on the same spot they had, and it had made the steep, rocky hillside seem a little cooler than it had before.

“You carried this thing with you all these years?” he said to
Wayne
. “Why?”

“For luck,”
Wayne
said.

And after a second, they both cracked up laughing.

“Good thing I had it,”
Wayne
went on jokingly, “or something bad could’ve happened to me.”

And they laughed some more. And damn, it was good to have something to laugh at around here for a change. Even if the laughter was kind of morbid, it was better than no laughter at all.

“
Naw
,”
Wayne
finally said when the laughs faded, “it just reminds me of when we were kids.”

Mick thought back and realized he’d been wrong—
those
were the best times. Roaming these jagged hillsides with his brother, playing in the creek that cut through the steep hills, discovering the earth. He remembered
Wayne
looking out for him, telling him to be careful when they were climbing trees, showing him the best limbs to use. And taking up for him with their parents, too. One time Mick had fallen in the creek and ripped a new shirt, and since new shirts didn’t come often, he’d been in big trouble.
Wayne
had stepped up and claimed that he pushed Mick, that was why he’d fallen, and it wasn’t true, but
Wayne
had taken a beating for it, so Mick wouldn’t have to.