Sugarbaby (2 page)

For the next few hours, I was a good girl, ignoring the waiting text, not giving in to the temptation to see what else my Capital-M Mistake had sent me over the phone. Instead, I waited on my stations, squirreling away every dollar I could because it'd get me that much closer to the day when I could say farewell to Aidan Falls in my rearview mirror with a happy
bye-bye
.

I even asked Carley on her break if she could text Diana about meeting at the movies at seven o'clock, which she dutifully did.

Then I went home to jump—not hump—in the shower.

And not once did I look at that phone, because what the heck would I have to say to some person I'd sort of accidentally invited to lah-lah in the shower? There was nothing to say. Nothing good, anyway.

I put on jeans, a T-shirt, and some fringed boots I'd found at the Goodwill store last week, along with a draped Apache-patterned coat that didn't have much mileage on it. My only accessory was one of the homemade bracelets Carley made—a network of thin leather straps attached to a compartment that held a credit card and ID, wrapping around my wrist. It was a burgeoning business for her, and she'd given me a few to get some word of mouth going on.

I supposed I was looking for a style, and I wondered if Native chic could be it. Couldn't it be? Then I hopped in my old blue Aspen to drive out of the neighborhood, which was mainly defined by a strip of cracked road that'd seen better days when my great-uncle had bought his house in the '70s. Now the lawns were crackly and brown, the paint jobs on garage doors faded from the bright blues they'd once been.

When I got to the Ritz, Carley and Diana were already in front of the theater's little old-fashioned glass box office where Mr. Carmichael was selling tickets. Carley looked adorable in a long skirt that showed off her curves and a tight sweater, and Diana . . .

Well, from what I knew about her, she was finding a style, too. Tonight it was all about Kristen Stewart grunge: a flannel shirt untucked just so; long, wavy, mussed blond hair making her look studiously cool, almost like she'd been raised by a pack of glam wolves.

She flew forward to hug me. I wasn't used to such quick friendship. Back in high school she'd run with the Pop Girls—the popular crowd, even if she'd never truly been one of them. I'd been more of the student council, Beta Club, and president-of-everything type, my own friends ambitious and intense. They'd gone off to universities while I'd done the community-college thing, and after I'd blown it with Rex, they'd written me off altogether.

Football fans, every last one of them.

Diana let me go, and Carley squeezed my arm as if saying,
She's an excitable pup. You'll get used to it.

“We bought your ticket and everything,” Diana gushed.

“Thanks.” When I dug into my purse for money, she waved me off.

“My treat.”

But I didn't do charity, even if Diana could afford it, living on the good side of town, and when I insisted on paying, she took the cash without an argument. I had the feeling Carley had told her that I saved every penny and was proud of it.

From behind the box-office glass, Mr. Carmichael adjusted a new pair of wire-rimmed glasses, leaning down to talk through the hole. Wrinkles fanned out from his smiling eyes.

“Good to see you again, Jadyn.”

“You, too, Mr. C.”

“How you doin'?”

Oh, besides the phone that's burning a hole in my pocket with these unexpected, kinda-horny-but-not messages, I'm right as rain
. “Great.”

“And Shelby and Evie? You talk to them lately?”

“All the time.” Shelby was my fellow ex-Rex girl. We had our very own former-significant-other club since Aidan Falls didn't approve of how we'd messed with their golden boy. I visited her whenever I could over at Texas-U. And Evie? She was Shelby's bestie, but we had to settle for Skyping with her since she went to UCSD on the West coast. “Shelby's crushing it in school. Same with Evie. They both say hi.”

Mr. Carmichael looked pleased. We were his favorite customers and he was our favorite movie historian in town. And the only one.

Diana grabbed my hand. “Let's go. Movie's gonna start.”

Carley laughed. “Not for fifteen minutes, Di.”

As we left, Mr. Carmichael teased, “Why, Diana Langley—I never took you for the sort who'd get all excitable about the classics. A silent film like
Nosferatu
, to boot.”

Diana froze. “There's no sound? I thought this was a vampire movie for Halloween!”

Carley took her by the hand and, train-style, we all choo-chooed our way into the lobby, waving at Mr. C. We stopped for quick snacks from the kid behind the refreshment counter and made our way up to the balcony.

It used to be that no one sat here in the velvet-seat plushness of movie worship very much. Actually, no one used to even come to the Ritz until Shelby had launched some social-media blitzes for it over the summer. Now it was the favored hangout of art students from the community college and trendy kids from school. A few of them were even in the balcony tonight instead of at Homecoming.

My kind of people.

As Carley led us to the top row, center, my phone buzzed in my jeans pocket. Another message from Mystery Texter?

Before I could do anything about it, we sat. Diana was in the middle and Carley leaned over her. She had on one of her cool bracelets.

“So station two?” she said. “They ended up being awful tippers.”

“I'm really sorry for sticking you with them,” I said.

Diana kicked her blue cowboy–booted feet up on the empty seat in front of her. “What happened at station two?”

Carley smacked Diana's leg, and she planted her boots on the floor.

Satisfied, Carley said to her, “Station two was a table with alumni jerks. They were giving Jade a hard time.” Some kids a few rows down were watching the blank screen and munching on popcorn, and Carley quieted herself, sitting back in her seat.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again, repeating its summons. Without thinking, I rested my hand against it, tempted. Sorely. But why? Was I so bored with life that I needed to fantasize that someone was on the other end, wanting to chat with me about humping in showers?

My uncle used to tell me that curiosity killed the cat, and I was dying a little more each second. Also, it seemed rather rude to ignore the texter when they'd been polite enough to let me know my message had gone off course. But were they being polite or taking advantage of a misfired sext?

Diana glanced at me. “Sounds like every Rex butt-kisser is still having a good time harassing you, Jadyn. God, what a tangled web we weave, huh?”

Okay, this conversation was going to happen.

“And it's all because of Micah Wyatt, too,” Diana added. “Carley remembers
him
. He was at a party we went to after she moved here, after she started to get these TellTale messages.” Diana cocked her eyebrow at me. “Are you on TellTale?”

It was some kind of phone app that allowed people to post confessions anonymously. Why deal with that when I could stumble into that kind of relationship with my own texts?

“I'm not on it,” I said, “but I've heard of it.”

“Well, Carley had an admirer on TellTale, and I thought it was Micah Wyatt.” Diana fanned herself. “Man, oh man, he was so hot. But you'd know
that
, Jadyn.”

My, she was straightforward, and my face heated up. Yes, I knew Micah. He and Shelby were together now, after a crazy summer in which he'd tried to seduce her, the Nice Girl, just as he'd seduced me during the spring, when I'd been at my most vulnerable with Rex, when I'd cheated on him with a wicked Don Juan who'd made it a game to go after every romantic challenge he could find. Shelby had changed Micah, though. I was glad she had.

Diana was still filling me in. “So I brought Carley to a party where Micah was supposed to be . . .”

“You dragged me there,” Carley said.

“Okay, I dragged her.” Diana corrected herself with a mild shrug. “And I turned out to be wrong about him. He wasn't the TellTale admirer at all.”

Carley looked at me. “Bret was.”

Bret, her boyfriend. Until this moment, I hadn't known how they'd met. He was out of town now, teaching at some music camp, and from what I knew, that was for the best, really. Carley had been hinting to me that the two of them were on less than ideal ground, that what they had was fast and intense, and she felt as if she didn't know who he was at all.

Cold feet
, I thought. Some of us weren't used to passion, and we didn't handle it very well.

“I don't know what you think, Jadyn,” Diana said, wrestling things back to where she wanted the story to go, “but my opinion is that Micah brought a shitload of trouble to town when he appeared. He had a real hard on about getting the best of Rex. Some kind of bad-boy-hates-the-shining-football-star-who-gets-all-the-girls thing.”

And . . . yes! We were back to Rex. It's where I always seemed to end up.

I pressed my hand to the phone. If I told the girls I had to use the restroom, that'd give me a chance to check my messages, and I wouldn't have to hear the rest of this. I didn't even mind if they talked about Rex and Micah while I was gone.

But before I went anywhere, Carley said, “Jade, I already know what happened with you and Micah. I'd heard he was a man about town, and it wasn't until long after I met him at the party that . . .”

She trailed off.

I decided to suck it up and finish what she'd started. “That I hooked up with him at a kegger and brought on the Rex wrath.”

The kids from a few rows down looked at each other, but I didn't care. I was beyond caring. That night with Micah, I had been at rock bottom. My uncle's health had been getting worse, and Rex was off at Texas-U, dating me long-distance, which had opened me up to all these doubts about how he still loved Shelby. I'd been his rebound girl, never a good position to put yourself in, but I'd been surprised as all get out that Rex had chosen me, the student council president, the book nerd.

And those doubts had eaten at me even worse after Shelby had lured Rex into an online trap where she'd pretended to be another woman, just to show that he was a cheater. He'd been so angry about it that it was obvious to me his feelings for Shelby were still real and very, very raw.

That was how I'd stumbled right into Micah Wyatt's open arms after a few too many beers and tears.

I wasn't proud of myself for it, either. I was downright ashamed, especially after most of the town had turned on the hate for me. But this summer, when Shelby had come back as just as much of a pariah as I'd been and we'd stood up to Rex and his bullying friends, I'd learned that I didn't have to take all the judgment lying down.

Some days it was harder than others to remember that.

Both Carley and Diana were watching me with something like pity. The kids down the way were even sneaking glances back at us, and
now
I cared.

“I should hit the ladies' before the movie starts,” I said.

They let me go without a fuss, and I thought I heard Diana whisper, “Should I have shut up about it?” before I left.

I made it as far as the stairwell, leaning against the red velveteen wall. Then I finally gave in to that cat-killing curiosity and took out my phone, hoping whatever was on there would amuse me, maybe even take me away for a few precious minutes.

There were two messages—not enough to be stalky, but not so few as to make me feel entirely ignored, either.

555-8465:

Just a helpful hint for the future: proofreading is your friend.

Then:

555-8465:

Okay, that'll conclude the teasing. Have a fun night with Grandma.

Whoever it was had definitely wanted to carry on a conversation. Were they a hermit who never talked to anyone? Someone who enjoyed hiding behind a computer screen instead of face-to-facing? Or
was
this a perv who thought I was desperate enough to jump and hump in his or her shower?

Any way about it, one more text from me wouldn't hurt, would it? They sounded harmless enough. One text and that'd be that.

Jadyn:

I appreciate you contacting me to tell me my text wandered off into the wild blue yonder. And thanks for the tip about proofing. I'm usually a better study.

And . . . there. Case closed, movie starting in T-minus five minutes.

So why was I still leaning against the wall, staring at the phone screen, wondering if another message would appear? Was
I
that lonely or bored?

I thought of how I'd go home tonight, walk past my Uncle Joseph's favorite chair, which stood empty in front of the TV. He'd been my everything, taking me in when there was no one else around after my parents died, raising me to be proud of working hard and getting good grades and wanting to be a doctor, until Parkinson's had set in and he'd needed me as much as any other patient would.

I'd told myself that I didn't mind attending community college for a while and was content to mostly stay home and study while watching over Joseph, unless our part-time nurse could come and take over my shift when I worked or during one of the few times I'd gone out. And that
was
true. But all of it had gotten lonely.

When my phone buzzed, I couldn't stop the smile that took me over.

555-8465:

BTW, that's a nice name . . . Jadyn.

I wasn't sure what to make of that. How did he know who I was?

Well, duh. He'd probably done a number search to see who might be sending him shower texts, and my name had come up. Should I have been creeped out? I wasn't. Actually, I was a little flattered that someone out there had bothered to look me up, that my stupid sexting had somehow intrigued him enough to make him fish for information about me.