Good For You (Between the Lines #3)
Page 9Oh my gosh. I’m a film snob.
Despite my sudden compulsion to see Reid’s movie, there’s no way I’m sitting through it with Nick. “Let’s order Chinese and watch something here. Dad just got a new batch of DVDs.” Nick smiles his agreement. Pul ing the takeout menu from our menu drawer and grabbing the phone, I determine not to think of Reid again tonight. “I’m getting sesame chicken. Anything with chicken is pretty good. Their beef dishes, not so much.”
When the food arrives, Dad materializes momentarily.
“Would you like to watch the movie with us, Rever—uh, Doug?” Nick asks.
Dad sighs and shakes his head. “This week’s sermon is being a butt. I’m determined to wrestle a few inspiring concepts down.” Grabbing a diet soda, his carton of fried rice and a pair of chopsticks, he adds, “I won’t be leaving the study until your mother comes home.” Then he winks at me, as though Nick and I plan to canoodle on the sofa (a Dad term more fitting for his parents’ generation than his own). Mom’s shift ends at midnight.
I’m never sure if Dad just has absolute confidence that I’d never do anything wicked, or if he actual y thinks I should loosen up. I hope it’s not the latter, because if I’m the girl whose pastor father thinks she’s too uptight, that would be pretty darned depressing.
Nick takes the center of the sofa while I nestle into the corner, legs pretzeled. His elbow rests lightly on my bent knee in between bites. Everyone in my family tends to comment throughout anything we watch, but Nick never talks during films. It’s a sure bet I’l end up biting my tongue figuratively or literal y at least half a dozen times. Final y, the credits rol .
“That was less clever than the reviews promised,” he observes, clicking the remote. His hand rests lightly on my knee, a non-insistent pressure not easily read. The world has gone dark outside, the room dim in the solitary lamplight without the glow of the screen. “Your house is always so quiet. Mine is the exact opposite—thinly contained chaos.”
Nick is an only child, but his parents take in special needs foster children and train service dogs, and his house is in an almost constant uproar. I’ve wondered but never had the nerve to ask if he ever yearned for the individual attention he would have been due as an only child, or if he felt neglected by his parents’ dedicated care of other peoples’ children.
My eyes find our elderly dog, curled on her pil owed bed across the room. “That’s true, Esther and I don’t produce a lot of commotion.” Her ears perk at the sound of her name, black eyes blinking as she waits to see if I require her attention. Her whitened muzzle rests on her equal y whitened paws.
Nick leans into my line of vision, pushing thoughts of Esther from my mind as he inclines his head and kisses me. His lips are warm and his kiss careful and gentle. I kiss him back, wishing he would deepen the kiss, that his hand would stroke my leg, or stray to my waist to pul me closer.
None of these things occur. This is not our first kiss, but each one we’ve shared has been the same: pleasant.
He pul s away, smiling. I smile back, and tel myself I’m not disappointed.
Neither am I in danger of losing control. Which is good.
Esther huffs a soft doggie sigh from her pal et and closes her eyes. Nick, even with the multiple dog and people scents attached to him, is no risk to me.
Chapter 11
REID
Dori doesn’t trust me. I’ve got that much figured out. She clearly has no idea of what a guy in my position is offered on a daily basis. I could sleep with a different girl, or several, every night. There’s always another one, ready to go. I’ve had offers—which I absolutely do not accept—from girls so young it makes me want to track down their parents and tel them they should be arrested for raising baby whores. Even when it comes to the ones who are borderline old enough, I won’t do some chick who thinks she’s al grown up just because she’s experienced.
I underestimated Dori’s determination to keep the Diego girl away from me. Not only did she manage to get me moved outside with Frank permanently, she’s now supervising Gabriel e herself. I’m not sure what was expected from this arrangement, but I bet it wasn’t the shit-fit that went down this morning when Gabriel e found out about it.
Al egedly, she picked up a hammer and threw it. Not at a person, but supposedly it narrowly missed a window and lodged itself in the drywal of the dining nook. I didn’t lodged itself in the drywal of the dining nook. I didn’t witness this meltdown, but thanks to Frank being a gossip addict, everyone outside stays ful y informed of every rumor inside or out. It’s not unlike a mini movie set.
“Roberta threatened to cal her mother and send her home if she didn’t calm down, but Gabriel e stil owes at least thirty hours.” Frank looks at me and shrugs. “I had no idea that girl would miss working with me so much.”
“In your dreams, old man,” quips his wife, Darlene, who’s loading bedding plants into a wheelbarrow. Her hair is entirely silver and longer than I’ve ever seen on a woman her age. It hangs in a fat braid down her back. “Come on, kid, let’s get these pansies in the ground.” I realize she’s talking to me when no one else moves.
By lunch I’ve learned how to plant pansies (“Not too deep! Not so close together!”), and the fact that Frank and Darlene retired five years ago, declared themselves bored stupid six months later, and decided to design landscaping for Habitat homes instead of going on cruises and taking up crafts.
“What did Frank mean, about Gabriel e owing thirty hours?” I’m staring at my hands, which are filthy. I couldn’t plant flowers with gloves on (earning, “Noob,” from Darlene), so there are solid black lines of dirt under al ten fingernails. My manicurist is going to kil me.
“The families approved to get a house have to put in a few hundred hours of ‘sweat equity.’ Gabriel e’s parents both work two jobs, and her brothers are too young to put in time.” She gives me a weird look. “Up until last week, Gabriel e was total y uninterested in helping out.” I fol ow her to the tap where she rinses off the hand tools we just used. When she doesn’t elaborate, I rol my hand.
“And…”
“And then you became a… volunteer.” Ah. “So you think my presence, er, motivated her to participate.”
“Look, I’m not interested in Gabriel e. She’s a child. I want nothing to do with her, okay?”
Several things happen at once. Darlene blinks, eyebrows rising, as she stares over my shoulder. In the same moment, I hear a strangled whimper and rapidly retreating footsteps.
Wel , shit.
Dori
I knew Friday that I was in for it today with Gabriel e. I spent the whole weekend dreading it. Even so, I misjudged the level her outrage would reach at being separated from Reid. I should have known.
The thunk of the hammer hitting the wal was, oddly enough, the catalyst for calming her. I think it stunned her that she could do something so destructive and potential y deadly. Thank God no one was in the path of that airborne tool; the claw imbedded itself into the drywal . Roberta, Gabriel e and I stood there in shock for a ful minute before Roberta cleared her throat and asked, “Maybe you’re too upset to work today?”
Gabriel e’s answer was a whisper delivered towards her feet. “No.”
Roberta and I exchanged a look and I gave her a faint nod. “Al right, then. Fol ow Dori, and I’l see you at lunch break.”
Gabriel e and I spent the morning patching the damaged kitchenette drywal , fol owed by measuring, marking and dril ing holes in every cabinet door in the whole house for the hardware we’l instal this afternoon. My ears were ringing from the constant high whine of the dril in confined spaces.
Gabriel e hadn’t uttered a single word during the entire three hours. “Two more and then it’s time for lunch,” I said, turning to find she wasn’t in the room. I had no idea how long she’d been gone, but I had a good idea where I could find her.
“Rats,” I muttered, stalking towards the back door.
I forgot to take off the goggles or leave the battery-powered dril behind. Thank the stars I was carrying the darned thing business end down, because as I yanked the back door open, Gabriel e bul eted through it. I jumped back as she lurched past me, crying.
“Gabriel e?” The sound of my voice only sped her up.
Reid.
As I stride onto the back patio, he turns from where he stands with Darlene at the faucet. “What did you do to her?” I step closer and lower my voice when I notice the audience of people pretending not to listen. I don’t care about embarrassing him, but Gabriel e’s distress is no one else’s business. “What did you say to her?” I hiss.
His eyes travel the length of me, just as he did last week when we met, except today his gaze lingers on my legs, the dril clutched in my hand, and the safety goggles stil on my face. His answer is al lazy insolence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Shoving the goggles onto my head, I raise my chin. “I’m talking about Gabriel e, who just stormed through the house, very upset. Stop acting like you’re oblivious, when we both know you’re the one who caused it.” He steps closer and looks down at me. “I didn’t do or say a damned thing to her.” He gestures towards Darlene without breaking our eye contact. “And I have a rock-solid alibi, Dorcas.”
Darlene steps closer. “Dori, calm down, hon. Gabriel e came
outside
overheard
something
misunderstood, that’s al . She’l get over it.” I am stunned speechless. I cannot believe this. He’s managed to win over Darlene! Is there a woman in this world, besides me, who’s immune to him? I turn and stomp back into the house without replying, which is incredibly rude of me and I’l have to apologize to her later.
I would dearly like to take a hammer to the drywal myself. It’s too bad there’s no demolition on this job, because I’d be a whirling dervish of destruction today.
Gabriel e and I could team up and take down a house this size like twin tornadoes.
After lunch (during which Reid and I sit on opposite sides of the yard), I grab the ratchet screwdriver set, gather the handles, knobs and screws, and head for the master bathroom. I’ve resigned myself to working alone for the rest of the day, which is fine with me, but it’s boring with no music. I forgot to bring the radio today, and my iPod, tragical y, is unfixable. If I want music, I’l have to provide it for myself.
Starting with the under-sink cabinets, I line up the screws with a chrome hinge while balancing the door on my foot, and fit the ratchet to a screw and crank it, click-click-click.