So Close (3 page)

But here’s what I found out; he was a good guy.  A whiz kid who’d worked his way through school on merit scholarships and became the state’s most formidable trial lawyer.  He’d written for his law review and later for local papers, impassioned op-eds identifying missed opportunities for communities to support struggling families.  He’d won massive settlements for class action suits against tobacco and chemical companies up and down the coast.  Afraid the opposition was going to vote for torte reform he’d thrown his influence behind Watkins, making strong inroads into the Florida political scene.  And, this is the part that made my arms goosepimple, he grew up a few towns over, and there wasn’t anything in that direction to be proud of.

One foot in front of the other.

He’d met Lindsay at college—then they’d gone onto law school together, then built a joint practice.  In her wedding picture her curls now looked a little big, her dress a little flouncy, her lipstick a little pale, but despite that, she was still strikingly beautiful. 

Then I Googled them both and a batch of articles came up that I had not expected—

Their daughter, Ashleigh, had been killed a year earlier—she was sixteen—a car accident.  I hit play on the news clip—

“Feet hurt, huh?”

I startled to see Westerbrook had rolled a desk chair out from behind the last cubicle.   “I didn’t know anyone was down here.”  I clenched my elbows to keep my dress from flopping. 

“Me, neither.  You don’t have to go.”

“I’m done, actually, so . . .”  I didn’t want to zip up in front of him.  But I couldn’t move my arms if I didn’t.

He was wearing linen pants and carrying his dress shirt flung over his shoulder.  I realized that it had met with a dark cocktail—a bitch of a stain for whoever’s problem this guy’s laundry was.  “Do you think we’ll ever be fully dressed together?” 

I cringed.  “That wasn’t—I don’t normally—”  Why was I apologizing to him?  “At any rate, I’m not into sharing office space with those about to wack-off.”

“That makes two of us.  Is that your poison?”  He pointed to the screen behind me.  “Pretty dark stuff.”

I paused the video.  “No, it’s—no.  That’s the guy who was speaking here today.  Tom Davis.  He was compelling.  But I didn’t know about his daughter.”

“Horrible. ” He shook his head at the news story.

“It is.” I shut down the computer.

“I should probably get back to work,” he said reluctantly.

“Right.”

He pointed at the desk and I craned my head around the corner to see a spread sheet.  “We’re supposed to be heading out drinking, but I forgot to get this done today.”

Keeping my dress pinned to me, I bent to pick up the shoes I hadn’t realized I’d slipped off.  “They do.”

“Sorry?”

“Hurt,” I gave him that one.

“That sucks.  Hey, aren’t there those little gel things you can slip in there?  Like, deflated implant looking things?”

“How would you know that?”

“I have a sister—step.”  He clasped his hands.  “Do you?  Have siblings?”

“A brother—half,” I said. 

“Me, too.”

“Which part?”

“Top part.”

I blushed.  “No, I meant—”

He was smiling at me.  “I’m Pax, by the way.  Pax Westerbrook.”  He stood and extended his hand.  I awkwardly shook it with my elbows at my side. 

“Amanda Luker.”

“So do you want me to turn around so you can zip up before you go out there?” 

“Yes,” I sighed, giving up on pride.

“Dude.”  I heard Trevor open the door behind me and froze.  “I waited a fucking hour and the bitch didn’t show—”

“Yeah,” Pax said quickly, “She’s—”

I turned around.  Trevor stared at my unzipped dress and bare feet like I was still topless.  “Oh, I get it.”

“She was just—” Pax started, but was interrupted by Kurt rounding into the room behind them. 

Shit.

He took in the three of us and his eyes narrowed. “Amanda, vy does security have you going up and down ze main elevator to ze eighth floor for fifteen unaccounted for minutes zis afternoon?”

“I was, um . . .” I stepped past both guys to where he stood in the doorway.  There was no way to explain myself without mentioning Mrs. Davis. 

“Um?  You can’t be serious.  I told zem my Mandy vouldn’t be messing around.  I covered for you.”  He eyed the two guys.  “Now vat’s going on in here?”  Kurt’s face set in that hard expression that was the precursor to his ripping someone a new one.  

“I was just using the computer, doing some research.” I tried to get him to remember I was one of the good ones.

“Oh so
that’s
what she is,” Rooster seethed.

“Trevor,” Pax said tightly as I felt myself go rigid.

“That explains why she asked me to pay her last night,”  Trevor said to Kurt.  “You should ask her where your watch went.”

“What?” 

“Admit it.  You took it.”

Pax looked to me.  “You did?”

“Fuck you,” I said before I could catch myself. 

“Zat’s it,” Kurt hissed.   

Panic surged.  “Kurt, please, you know I would never—”

“You’re fired.”

“Kurt, I swear to you.”  He tugged away as I tried to touch his arm.

“I suggest you leave ze property before I call security.” 

“But what about my check?” 
How
could this be happening?

“You’ll have to call ze office on Monday.”  He straightened his collar.  “Sings can get lost.  I don’t know.”

“Kurt.”  My chin jutted out, counting commencing. 

“I tell you, Mandy, but you don’t listen.  Shit on me, I wash my hands of you.”  He gazed at his nails.  “Now get your tricking ass out of my sight.”

Chapter Two

Despite feeling like I’d been hurled to the depths of a well, the morning sun still found me in Mom’s trailer.  God knows why it wanted to, but it persisted in shining through the crack in the tin foil taped to the windows.  If I was a shaft of dawn I’d have sought a patch of grass to fall on—maybe one of the marigolds that grow wild by the side of the highway, a full nest of eggs.  Or a penthouse terrace overlooking the ocean.  I would not have gone willingly into Delilah Luker’s double-wide. 

              I lay on the living area’s pull-out couch and fought the same urge I did every morning in the two week’s since I’d slunk back—the desire to roll over and hold my little brother for just a few minutes when he still looked like a baby and smelled like soap, before his breathing lightened, his eyes opened and his kinetic boy-ness took over.  But I knew if I didn’t move it and put breakfast on I would never get him to the road in time to catch the bus.  Delilah assumed he was handling it, just like she did when I was his age and, all of twenty-four herself, she thought an eight year old could cook. 

I brushed my teeth while I waited for the shower to turn hot and stared at the peeling vinyl.  I’d spent the first night back from South Beach wiping off every inch of the place with a bucket of vinegar water and while it still felt grimy, at least it no longer looked Fairy-tale neglected.  Billy had been staying with neighbors a lot, I learned, because Mom had someone.  That’s all she would say.  Someone.  “Mom,” I called toward the bedroom.  There was no answer.  “Delilah!”

              The couch springs screeched as Billy hopped up.  “Mom.”  I heard him push her door open, then the bathroom.  “Not here,” he said. 

              “Excellent.  Get dressed and I’ll make eggs.”  Before I’d left with Diego I’d signed him up for a summer session so he could get extra help with his reading.  If he fell behind he’d be even less into school than he was already.

              “I want to stay home with you.”  He squeezed past me to pee.   

              “As if.”  I smoothed his sandy blonde hair from looking like sleep was a hat he’d just tugged off.  “That place may be a shithole, the teachers may suck and your whole class might have buggers, but you have to keep at it or . . .” I felt the tepid shower.

              “Or what?”

“Dude, you’re going to college if it kills me.”

              “You went to college. ” he said, flushing.

              “But you’re staying ’til they give you that degree.  Wash hands.” I pulled him back inside by the shoulder.  “One of us isn’t working at Mickey D’s the rest of our lives.”

              “Free Happy Meals.”  He dried his hands on my t-shirt.

              “Well, yes, there’s that.”

“Mandy.”  His eyebrows shot up like the space rockets on his underwear.  “Are you gonna work at McDonalds?”

“No.  Even they don’t want me.  Thank you for proving my point.  Get your clothes on.”  I steered him to the outfit Mom had left out for him on the table and pulled the accordion door shut.

              While he folded up the couch I stood in the shower a minute longer than I had time for and wondered why, as far back as I could remember, I’d
always
wanted something else for myself.  And did our neighbors feel that way—or did their ambitions reach no farther than the county line?  And why hadn’t I had a big brother or sister who would’ve whipped my ass before letting me drop out of Community College?  Although, considering Delilah was sixteen when she had me an older sibling was probably not, in fact, what I would have wished for. 

              After I dropped Billy off I headed out to follow up with the handful of places that hadn’t said an outright no to my hiring inquiries.  To save gas I parked and walked in my flip-flops from one end of town to the other, but all I turned up was a nickel and an offer of a beer from letchy Dan Stevens, whose wife had been my ninth grade math teacher.  I never liked her, but I still wouldn’t screw her husband just to get a job fetching him coffee.  Although, with only the GED under my belt, and Kath holding a grudge at my quitting in the first place, I was getting scared that Dan was going to end up being my best offer. 

              I stood on the uneven sidewalk, which sprouted weeds between every stone, the sun on the back of my neck like a finger poking me.  I
needed
to get out of there, which required saving money, which meant getting a job and staying put exactly where I didn’t want to be.  The frustration made my eyes sting. 

              Just then my phone rang.  I didn’t know the number.

              “Hello?” I answered eagerly, praying one of the applications I’d filled out had made it into the hands of a manager.

              “Is this Amanda?” a man asked.

              “Yes.”   I tried to fill my voice with a hirable quality. 

              “This is Pax Westerbrook.  We met at the—”

              A sound like a motorcycle idling escaped the back of my throat .  “I know who you are.”

“You remember?”

“It’s not like your name’s Dave.”

              “Right.”

              “Calling to make sure I’m well-and-truly fired?  I am.  I’m well-and-truly fired.”  I actually kicked the lamppost base with my toe. 

              “Um, I was just—sorry, this feels stupid now—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Why?”

“I feel super shitty about what happened—I found my watch and Trevor admitted you didn’t actually, you know, solicit him.”

“To Kurt?” I clutched the phone.  “He told the hotel?”

“No, uh, actually, just me.  He can be an asshole when he’s been drinking, but he’s not a bad guy.”

              I pulled a face at the empty street.  “Okay, well, thanks for calling to clarify that—”

              “I want to make it up to you,” he said hastily down the line before I could disconnect. 

              “Make it up to me?”

              “Please.  I want to.  I’m in West Palm—I could come down.” Was this guy asking me out?  Seriously? 

              “Well, I’m back home now, so. . .”

              “Oh.  I just thought I could—”

              “Why now?  Why not step in when my manager was reaming me out?”

              “I didn’t know what to think.  Look, Trevor was out of line,” he conceded the one thing he seemed willing while completely not answering my question.

              “Your friend accuses me of being a thief and a hooker,
which you believed
, and all you can say is that he was out of line?”

              “What else do you want me to say?” He was suddenly defensive.  I couldn’t believe it. 

              “Okay, look, dude, if you needed to clean your conscience, consider it gleaming.  I’m fine.  Never been better.  Your wonderful friend was just having his period and it’s all good.  So you take care now.”  I hung up. 

I didn’t know why Pax Westerbrook was getting such a rise out of me—I just thought of his uselessly stunned expression as Kurt led me away by the elbow and it reminded me of the worst of the guys who Mom had paraded through the trailer like they were big men there to skin something for dinner and make it all alright.  But when Mom freaked out because the lights went off or Billy had a fever and reality slammed into the aluminum sides like a gator’s tail they just shoved their hands deep in their pockets and looked sheepish.

              Sheepish.  That’s what he’d been.  I had no space for it. 

              I headed back to the trailer.  Half-way there I spotted Mom’s Buick at the edge of the Walmart parking lot, and pulled over.   She was sitting in the front seat, tears making black gulleys from under her sunglasses. 

              “Hey,” I called tentatively as I approached.

              “Did Billy get off alright?” she asked, not looking at me or questioning what I was doing there.

              “Yes.  You okay?”  I leaned down in her open window.

              “Did he have his green shirt on—they were supposed to wear green today.”  She pulled a Wendy’s wrapper from her purse and blew her nose.

              “He put on what you left out for him.”

              “And there was enough baloney for his lunch?”  she asked as if I was the spouse who’d forgotten to buy more.

              “I’ll pick some up today—now, I’m here,” I realized.  I had been trying to ration my visits to Walmart, because once I walked every aisle, touched every towel and sundress, that would be it.  I would have nothing else to look at.  Budget cuts had long since closed the library.  And the cable was off so I couldn’t even watch stupid TV.