Love Scars - 3: Stop (2 page)

“By the way.” Frank stopped at the back door. “J.D. looked at your precious Perns. He had one out and was reading all over it.” He flashed a smile and was gone.

“That’s all right.” Lisa looked at me with a worried expression. “How would J.D. know?”

I went to the bookcase and ran my hand over the top of the books. My mom’s set of
Dragonriders of Pern
looked undisturbed. I mentally crabbed at myself. My precious Perns, as Frank called them, were off limits to everyone. I hadn’t thought to put them somewhere safe before the party.

When the sheriff’s deputy brought me home from Foresthill, I had found
The White Dragon
lying open on my little brother’s bed. Nick and I had been reading the books at the same time. Just that week we’d both started
The White Dragon
. We’d steal it back and forth, neither of us willing to wait until the other finished.

I never opened
The White Dragon
again. When I came to live with Grandma, I put it here in the bookcase with the others and snapped at anyone who opened any of them—including, once, poor Frank.

For years I’d imagined a protective charm surrounded these books, keeping them safe, repelling all outsiders. But I didn’t mind J.D. touching them. His mom named him for a character in these stories, and they were my mom’s favorites too. I liked sharing something special with him.

I ran my hand over the spines. I had to go to Foresthill. I’d face my demons and get well—well enough to stop using sex as an escape mechanism. I’d lost my chance with J.D., but the next time life offered me the possibility of a real relationship, I’d be ready.

At that moment I felt a lingering wound inside me heal and one small emotional scar dissolved.

The house in Princeton Reach

“Dammit!” Brad drove his empty beer bottle into the tub of ice on the coffee table. He muted the TV as the basketball game went to commercial. “Fucking refs.”

“What do you care?” I said. “You hate the Kings.”

“Not when they’re playing the Mavs, dude.”

I hadn’t heard from the guy since he drove away from the party on Friday, then just before the game he showed up at my place with a six-pack of Pale Ale.
 

Sacramento was losing to Dallas in a crappy game perfect for my crappy mood. My resolution to put Nora Deven out of my mind wasn’t going well.

I rode away from her house yesterday morning, but I never really left. I kept picturing her sitting at the end of her bed with her legs crossed, wearing those green piranha pajamas. I kept thinking about crawling over to her and burying my face in the rosemary and mint perfume of her hair, running my tongue over the skin on her neck. I wanted to slide those pajama bottoms off over her smooth hips and plunge inside her.

I wanted to feel her swallow me whole.

Friday night I could have sworn she was into me. On the other hand, Friday night she was whacked out. Yesterday morning, when she was herself again, she pulled back.
she
was polite, cheerful, and distant. A wall had gone up between us. Hell, maybe I put it there.

All yesterday and today I wondered what she was doing. I had the bike out three times to go for a ride in the direction of Carolinda Estates. Three times I talked myself out of it. The fourth time I was strapping on my helmet when Brad showed up and saved me from myself.

I unmuted the game. They were still in the timeout after the ref’s call. The Kings’ announcers were discussing the latest rumors about the team moving to Seattle.

“A pox on them,” Brad said. “If they were going anywhere else I’d say hasta la good riddance, but the Kings can’t go fucking up my home town.”

“We liked them when we were kids and they had Jason Williams and Chris Webber,” I reminded him. “They could never replace the Sonics though.”

I wondered if Nora liked NBA basketball. I had a feeling the crowds would annoy her, but we could watch a home game from BlueMagick’s skybox. I could tell her I won some random contest at work to get access to the box.

“You had to bring up the Sonics.” Brad pushed his glasses up and took his phone from the pocket of his fresh pressed cotton shirt. The dude dressed like an accountant even on weekends. “Siri, remind me never to give my heart to anything. It only ends up getting stomped on.” He put the phone down on the coffee table and grabbed another beer.

“Sorry about Lisa, dude,” I said. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. “Apparently my Brad-fu has picked up a virus. I was sure she’d choose me over Fabulous Frank.” He pointed his beer at me. “And I’m still positive you and her friend Nora are undiscovered soul mates. You’re both so broody.”

“I’m the opposite of broody,” I said. “I’m stoic.” I ignored his look of skepticism. “Actually, I ended up spending the night.” I couldn’t tell him what I’d learned about MolyMo without admitting I’d stayed at Nora’s place Friday.

“Alrighty then, the plot thickens.” He muted the TV again as it went to the Mavs’ halftime show. “Did you learn anything?”

“I overheard Nora and Lisa talking about Heron, but you’re going to hate this.” I grinned. “They think he funded the internships.”

“Aw, stop it, man. That’s cold!”

I laughed, relieved. Brad might have a broken heart, but he wasn’t going to let it kill him.

“Did you hear anything useful?” he said.

“Nothing specific, but MolyMo’s sniffing around the dig,” I said. “It could be as simple as wanting someone to bring out samples.”

“Someone,” Brad said. “Meaning Nora.”

“At least we know Barton’s an equal opportunity denier,” I said. “He isn’t letting anyone come onto the dig and test.”

I reached for the remote, but Brad stopped me. “Come on, what else?” he said. “How was Nora? Did the earth move? Did she put Nicole out of the fuck buddy business?”

“Don’t be crude.”

“Ah-ha.” He tapped his forehead. “That good, huh? The old Brad-fu isn’t completely kaput.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened. You tell me you spent the night with that hot girl and nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

He shook his head. “Hm. So she doesn’t fall into the Nicole category. This gives my soul mate theory more weight. Could it be fragile little Nora has indeed found a way into your heart, that lonely organ unoccupied since Holly moved out and took all the furniture?”

“Holly.” The word turned to chalk in my mouth. Neither of us had said the name in years, and now twice in three seconds.

“J.D.,” Brad said. “Nora is no Holly.”

“True.” Three times in six seconds. “I’ll be back.”

I went to get more beers for the ice tub. Hearing Holly’s name was irritating, but I’d been restless since yesterday. After Nora’s place, this place felt sterile. It was over four thousand square feet of perfection, all tile and hardwood floors and Persian carpets. Thanks to Mom and Scarlett, art occupied most of the walls. But something was missing. It wasn’t at home in my own house.

I was suddenly homesick for the island. I never lived there, but from the start my mom had kept a room for me. It was the one place I could forget about the world and be myself. No expectations. No obligations.

I took the second six-pack of Pale Ale out of the refrigerator and opened a bottle. The appliances in my kitchen would turn a celebrity chef green. The windows looked out on a greenbelt. I’d bought the house for that view. I would have preferred a place looking over Folsom Lake, but I wanted to be close enough to ride my bike to work.

Holly.
Brad had to go and say her name. I downed half the beer, but the cold liquid didn’t do a thing for me. It flowed right past the knot of resentment in my chest. Shit, I thought that was long dead and buried.

Buried, maybe. Dead, not so much.

Pretty Holly, the girl I loved with all my heart my senior year of high school.
So
out of my league. A scornful laugh escaped me. The cheerleader and the geek, back in the day when no one saw the upside to geekdom. She wasn’t the most popular cheerleader—the cliché didn’t go that far—but she was the one I liked best.

Holly always smiled at me in the hall, even though the other girls in her mob were watching. When I sold the app that spring, I asked her to the prom and she dropped her football player boyfriend to go with me.

I was, trite as it sounds, the king of the world.

Instead of the usual SkyCity prom dinner at the top of the Space Needle, I hired a private jet to fly us to San Francisco to eat and then back to Seattle for the dance. Holly was so sweet and wide-eyed about it. I loved how jealous it made her girlfriends.

I lost my cherry to her that night, in the back of the limo. Now that
was
a cliché. I was nervous and eager—and she was relaxed and eager. Far more competent at the business than she should have been. I didn’t think about what that meant until months later. She lifted her prom dress and let her knees fall apart. She wasn’t wearing panties.

Within a week we were engaged.

Holly picked out a massive rock for her engagement ring. It dwarfed her delicate hand, but she managed to lift it well enough to wave in front of her girlfriends as often as possible. It cracked me up.

I’d already bought the house on the island for Mom and Scarlett, and when I brought Holly out to tell them the news, Scarlett raged.
You’re too young
. She never liked Holly, not even from before the money when I pointed her out among the cheerleaders once at a basketball game.

But Mom said why not let love have its way. Jaxom can afford it, she said. Some of the best marriages started out young, she said. Not hers, but many did.

There was only one bug in the bouillabaisse, and that was Brad. Before the money, he’d found Holly slightly irritating. After the money, he hated her. She took up my time, time he and I used to spend brainstorming plans for BlueMagick, the tech company we’d dreamed of starting since grade school.

There was plenty of time for all that. “Shit, dude,” I told him, “we aren’t even twenty yet. Find a girl and we’ll all party together.” But whenever Holly was around, Brad wasn’t.

He made an exception for my mom’s birthday. Scarlett invited us all out to the island for dinner, and when Holly and I drove up to the house Brad’s ratty old Land Cruiser was parked in the driveway.

“I need to buy that dude some new wheels,” I told Holly.

“A black and silver Range Rover,” she said, not missing a beat. “He deserves something nice.” She was wonderful. I just wished Brad could see it.

Scarlett met us at the door. “Brad’s with your mom in the garden,” she said. “He’s installing some solar lights, her birthday present.”

As we crossed the threshold, Scarlett gave Holly a severe look. Holly missed it, but I didn’t. Scarlett raised an eyebrow at me, defiant. She was never going to accept us getting married. To spare Mom’s feelings, she wouldn’t actually say anything, but Scarlett was always brutally honest with me.

We had dinner together on the lanai. The view of the water and the sea breeze created a sense of tranquility, but toward the end of the meal I realized Mom and I had been doing most of the talking. Scarlett had contributed a few
mm-hmms
and
ain’t that the truths
, but Brad and Holly barely said a word.
 

“That was great, Scarlett. Thanks.” Brad finally spoke. He laid his napkin down. “If you all don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself. I want to finish up with those lights before it gets dark.”

Holly’s eyelids were lowered, her attention fixed on her plate. I realized she was blushing, and it dawned on me then.
Brad loved Holly too.
I felt like a shit. All this time the poor guy had tried to keep his distance, and I’d been pushing the two of them together. It must be hell for him to be around us.

“You go on, honey,” Scarlett said said to Brad. “I’ll bring you something cold to drink.”

If he worked until dark, he wouldn’t have time to get in line for the last ferry. Holly and I had been planning to stay the night, but I wasn’t going to do that to him. We’d take the ferry back and come for a longer visit some other time.

While Scarlett showed Holly some of Mom’s sculptures in the living room, I helped clear the table. In the kitchen, Mom was scrubbing out a pot. “When Scarlett cooks, I clean.”

“Not on your birthday,” I said. “Let me do that.”

“Thanks, Jaxom. I love her spaghetti sauce because she cooks it all day, but she always burns the bottom of the pot.”

“I didn’t know Brad was going to be here,” I said. “I think Holly and I will go back on the late ferry.”

“I think that’s wise,” Mom said. As usual, her voice was gentle but strong, making nothing sound full of meaning.

“It’s funny. I thought he didn’t like her,” I said.

“He doesn’t like her for you,” she said.

Because he likes her for himself
. The idea hit me with a jolt of anger. The dude was thinking of stealing Holly away from me. But this wasn’t like before the money, when the chicks always looked at him first. I finished drying the pot and slammed it onto the hook on the rack.