Want (16 page)

“No, they won’t care. I promise. If any of them give you a hard time, they can answer to me.”

I do that skeptical eyebrow thing R.J. loves.

“Look, Ike won’t care. He told me what happened. And he feels bad, but don’t tell him I told you. It’s just a little get-together. And believe me, you really need it. In fact, you’re not allowed to go near that piano for the rest of the day.
Dave’s orders.
Just go get ready, and we’ll pick you up about six.”

“Dave, I haven’t even spoken to him since he yelled at me.”

“He’ll probably apologize tonight. Now, scat. It’ll take you a while to pull yourself together.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What else are you going to do tonight? Wait. Is there a guy? Do you have a date? Can I meet him? Huh? Huh?”

“Shut up, you turd.
Okay, I’m in. I’ll try to be presentable by six. Just pick me up behind the studio. That way I can tell my parents I’m going out with friends from school and they won’t recognize Isaac’s car.”

“Why would they have a problem if you hang out with us? Does my reputation precede me?”

I really try not to roll my eyes, but they won’t cooperate. “No, it’s not that. My mama, she just…gets weird when I go out. I usually just sneak out, but since I’ll miss dinner, I have to tell her something.”

“Whatever.
See you in a few
,
kitten
. And chin up.”

Upstairs, R.J. is in his room working on his laptop. “Did I hear someone down there? I thought I heard a guy.”

“Yeah, it was someone from school.”
Lie.
“He invited me to a bonfire tonight with some friends.”

“Oh, my sister’s got a date.”

“It’s not a date, just some people from school.”
Liar, liar, liar.

“Where are you going?”

“Dauphin Island. One of them has a house on the beach.”

“Must be nice. You have to tell Mama, you know.”

“I know. She’s doing pretty okay on the new stuff, so I hope she doesn’t freak. Why don’t you come, too? She can’t get mad at both of us.”

Please don’t call my bluff.

“No can do. Unlike you and your non-date, I have a real one. Don’t wait up for me.”

I trudge to my room, fling open the closet door and sigh.
What do you wear to a bonfire on the beach in December?
I settle on jeans, a patterned tank top and a fleece to go over it. December is kind of iffy on the Gulf Coast. Often it’s bitterly cold, but there are weeks like this when it’s warm.

As Dave so nicely pointed out, I look like hell. I go a little heavy on the makeup. Not too much, but enough to conceal my lack of sleep. I scrunch my chin-length curls and call it good. I tell Mama about my plans at the same time R.J. tells her about his. That way she has to freak out on both of us.

“Fine. Have fun,” she says.

Is this a trick?

“I can’t believe it,” I whisper to R.J. when we head out the back door.

He shakes his head. “Maybe she accidentally took a double dose of her happy pills.”

“I know, right?” It’s too good to be true.

R.J. eyes my aging Honda. “Are you driving down?”

“No, they’re picking me up. You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll just hang out in the studio.”

“So who are you going with, anyway?”

“Just some friends.”

“Anybody I know?”

“Any reason you’re playing twenty questions?”

“You tell me.”

“Just go! I’ll see you in the morning.” I push him toward his truck.

I’m tempted to go mess around on the piano for a few minutes, but Dave forbade it. He’s
right,
I spend every waking hour worrying about the audition. I even spend my precious few sleeping hours subconsciously obsessing over it.

Now I’ve got to figure out what to say to Isaac.

Car tires crunch outside and sure enough, it’s his black Charger.
Dave’s riding shotgun.
He steps out and gives me a quick hug.

“You doing better, kitten? You look better. Mmm, and you smell divine.”

“And you smell like beer. Maybe I shouldn’t come.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just some of Ike’s friends and family. Nothing crazy. Look, two of his cousins are in the backseat.
Girl
cousins, okay? Everything’s cool.”

In the back seat are two girls just a little older than me. Both have hair the same shade of chestnut brown as Isaac’s, but it’s impossible to see details in the dark. Dave introduces them as Sara and Taylor, but Isaac barely acknowledges me.

The ride there is thirty of the most awkward minutes ever. Dave regales the girls with stories from when he and Isaac were in undergrad. Both eat up the attention, but I’m pretty sure they’re buzzed. Isaac barely takes his eyes off the road, though I catch him as he glances at me in the mirror. Then I remember
,
it’s the first time he’s seen me since I chopped my hair.

I stare out the window and watch the tiny lights out on the bay. Soon, the lights get more frequent and we approach the island. We cross the giant camel-hump bridge and drive further south until there’s a tee in the road. We turn right and head past the school and
public park
. The houses out here are raised up fifteen feet from the ground, protection against storm-driven waves and frequent hurricanes.

The road turns into a path and all but disappears where the drifting sand covers it. I imagine this is what
snow drifts
look like, except these are pale yellow instead of white. I’m glad Isaac knows where he’s going. He pulls onto another sand-covered side road and parks near a light-colored house with a couple other cars parked underneath.

Outside, the flicker of a bonfire dances on the sand close to the water. I’ve spent seventeen years in Mobile, but I’ve never seen the beach at night. Stepping out of the car is like stepping into a surreal movie scene. Driftwood serves as benches. It reminds me of giant sun-bleached bones washed ashore. The air is still, but I tug my fleece closer around my neck.

The two girls from the car disappear. Dave is at my side, and I’m glad I can count on him to stick by me. It seems no one else will.

“I need to talk to you. About Ike,” he says.

I nod and follow him down to the shore. We stop short of the crashing waves and listen to them tumble against the sand while sea foam crackles nearby. It’s so peaceful and beautiful that it makes my heart ache. I look to Sand Island lighthouse.

For once, Dave is quiet. He must sense my mood, because he stands next to me, hands in his pockets, for a long time. I can’t imagine what he needs to tell me about Isaac. If it’s that Isaac never wants to see me again, I don’t understand why I’m here. If it’s that Isaac’s sorry, shouldn’t
he
tell me? When I’ve taken in enough of the sea air, I face him.

“Okay. Tell me.”

“It’s not his.”

Um?

“This house? You said it was his aunt’s.”

“The baby. It’s not his. He found out today while I was at your house. That’s why he was so weird on the way down here.”

I don’t know what to say, so I stare out at the water again. There are some late-night boaters far out, their tiny lights the only thing to indicate their existence.

“That’s why I came to Mobile this weekend. I knew they’d have the results soon, and the lawyer was supposed to call today. Well, he called while I was gone. I knew Ike would be messed up either way, so…”

I tuck a wayward strand behind my ear. Why is he telling me this? It should be Isaac if he wants me to know.

Dave reads my mind. “He never would have told you. Ike’s a pretty private guy. He keeps everything in and pretends it’s
all fine
, but he’s not taking it well. His family wants to cheer him up, and that’s why they had this little shindig tonight.”

I nod. After a few minutes, Dave takes my hand and leads me back to the party.

“You’ve got to be hungry. You’ll wash away if a strong wave comes along. C’mon.”

We trudge back to the fire and get drinks. There’s one orange soda left in the cooler for me, and Dave cracks open a beer. We help ourselves to hot dogs, baked beans, and corn on the cob. It looks like heavenly hash after so many days of barely eating.

I wave hello to Isaac’s mother and spot one of his sisters corralling her three kids. Dave and I settle on one of the pieces of driftwood, plates on our knees. A man I don’t recognize plays the guitar, and another who looks familiar plucks a banjo. Music must run in the family.

“Hey, Dave, is Mr. Cline here?”

“Nope. Didn’t think he could walk in the sand.”

“Ah, I didn’t think of that.”

Dave laughs when I inhale my food. He looks pleased. He tells me more dumb stories about the New England Conservatory but makes sure not to mention auditions. An hour later, we dump our plates into the garbage, but Isaac still hasn’t shown his face.

“Not much of a host, that one,” Dave says. “Probably wallowing in self-pity.”

Or avoiding me.
I knew it was a bad idea to come tonight.

Dave’s on his fourth or fifth beer when he suggests we go for a walk. I’m sweaty from the fire and getting more worked up by the minute, so I agree. He snakes another bottle out of the cooler. Instead of heading to the shore again, we walk up past the house and onto the deserted road. The sparse streetlamps cast uneven light on the sand dunes and dark houses. Most of them are empty this time of year.

“You feel better now? You look a hell of a lot better than you did this afternoon. You gave me a scare there. Lucky for you, I’ve got three sisters so I don’t totally freak around tears.”

“Yeah, it’s been nice. Though I really wish Isaac would talk to me.”

“Yeah.” He takes another sip of beer. I stare at the label.

“You know, I’ve never had more than communion wine.”

“No shit? I think I was fifteen or sixteen when I had my first beer. My dad let me have a sip of his. Thought I’d choke or puke or something. Turns out my
liver’s
stronger than his.”

I point to Dave’s bottle. “Do you mind?”

“Hell no. Go for it. You earned it. As if the, uh, you-know-what wasn’t enough to worry about, you’ve been Ike’s whipping post.”

He hands it over and I tip it back, the way I’ve seen everyone else do it. It’s not great.

“It tastes like metallic bread.”

Dave throws back his head and laughs. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard. It’s the yeast that tastes like bread. It’s stronger in some beers than others. Sometimes they use other flavors too, like blueberry. They’re all different. Unfortunately, this one’s about two steps above horse piss.”

He explains the whole brewing process to me and tells me his favorites. By the time he finishes, I’ve drained the whole bottle.

“Slow down there, kitten. You’ve also got to learn to pace yourself. Ride the buzz. Although you just ate, so you should be fine.”

We wander back to the party, and I can still taste the metal tang.
What am I doing? Oh, shut up. Live a little.
I’m curious whether all beer has the same aftertaste.

Dave laughs and hands me another. “Why don’t you start with something lighter? Try this one.”

Isaac’s sister gives us a disapproving look, so we wander back down to the beach and stop on the Gulf side of the sand dunes. They were built near the shore to protect the beaches from oil spills. Most were plowed under after the threat was over, but the ones on this end of the island remain.

My bottle is half gone, and the alcohol warms me from the inside. My cheeks flush, so I shrug out of my fleece jacket and throw it onto one of the dunes behind us. I sit on it and lay back to gaze at the stars. The sky is so clear away from the city lights. Dave lies next to me and points out constellations. They all blur together, and I’m sleepy—a very happy sleepy. I snuggle into him, so it’s not really a surprise when his lips brush my jaw then travel to my neck. I giggle when he nibbles my ear.

“You’re a biter, are you?”

His fingers brush aside my tank strap, and his teeth graze my bare shoulder. I close my eyes and sigh.

So this is what it’s like to be wanted.

His hand snakes under my tank and flutters up my side. That’s when I decide to go for it. He’s ready. I’m willing. Isaac’s clearly not interested and won’t ever be. I don’t really know what to do, so I borrow some moves from TV. They seem to work. I tug on his wallet chain and pull him closer. I’m about to find out exactly how ready he is when he grabs my hand before it reaches its destination.

“Juli.”

“Sixteen.” My voice comes out a little breathier than I intended.

“Sixteen what?” He sounds a little winded, too.

“The legal age of consent in Alabama. Not eighteen.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I kiss him again.