Part 5 (2/2)
Rusty stopped in his tracks. His friends looked from him to Blake.
”Practice canceled?” Blake asked.
”Who is this dude?” the shortest kid asked.
Rusty put his palm out toward the kid. ”No,” he said to Blake.
”Dude? What practice?” another kid asked.
Blake looked at the five of them and was slow on the uptake. There was no practice. This was what Rusty did to get out with his friends. s.h.i.+t. Blake may not have known much about parenting, but he knew it wasn't okay for a kid to ditch an adult or lie about where he was going and what he was doing. Why the h.e.l.l would Dave have lied about going to the practices?
”Rusty? Do you want to talk in private?” Blake asked, trying to spare him from embarra.s.sment.
”No,” he said; then he spun on his heels. ”Let's go.”
”Whoa.” Blake stood in front of him, arms crossed. ”Rusty, I'm responsible for you. I can't just let you walk away.” He leaned in closer, speaking quietly. ”What would your dad have thought?”
”My dad? s.h.i.+t, my dad didn't give a f.u.c.k about me or anyone else besides himself. He left me here and took off every week.” Rusty barreled past him, his friends in tow.
What the h.e.l.l was going on? Blake froze, watching his best friend's son walk away, going G.o.d knows where. Should he stop him, confront him again? Call Sally? s.h.i.+t. He had no idea what to do, so he watched Rusty walk away, went back to his car, and parked in the school parking lot, asking himself why the h.e.l.l he was wasting his time.
Blake pulled out his cell phone and dialed Danica's office number. If anyone had answers, it was a therapist, and she seemed smart and tactful. As expected, the answering machine came to life.
”This is Blake Carter. Thanks for seeing me today. I definitely would like to come back next week, if you're willing to see me. Please let me know.”
At eight thirty on the dot, Rusty came back and climbed into the car. He just slumped down in the pa.s.senger seat and stared out the window. Blake inhaled deeply, waiting for the smell of cigarettes or marijuana to waft his way. There was no smell, which immediately made Blake worry that maybe Rusty was into something even more dangerous.
”Rusty?”
Rusty looked over. His eyes were clear, his jaw clenched, the muscles working against his teeth. Blake was looking into the face of a boy who was used to getting away with things.
”Wanna talk?” Blake asked.
”Not really,” he answered, keeping eye contact with Blake.
This kid has b.a.l.l.s. ”Do I have to worry about you doing drugs?”
”No, I'm not doing drugs,” Rusty said with att.i.tude. ”I'm not out stealing or pulling s.h.i.+t I shouldn't be pulling, okay?” He turned and looked out the front window. ”Thanks for waiting.”
Blake fought the desire to put him in his place. But his father had just died, after all. Maybe he needed to cut him some slack. Then again...
”Listen, I don't know what went on between you and your dad, but I'm n.o.body's slave, got it? If I drive you somewhere, I need to know where you're going, not where I'm dropping you off. You wanna hang with your friends? Then let your mother know where you're going. You wanna sit on the curb for three hours in the dark and pick your nose? Let your mother know. But there's no way in h.e.l.l I'll be party to you walking the streets when I have no clue what you're up to.”
Blake started the car and drove toward Sally's house as Rusty continued to stare out the window. They drove in silence.
Blake parked in front of the house and scribbled down his phone number. ”Here. If you're ever in any trouble.” He shrugged. He didn't want to force himself on Rusty, but he wanted Rusty to know he was there for him. He handed it over.
Rusty held steadfast to the door handle, but he didn't move toward getting out of the car. He held the paper in his fist. ”He's not who you thought he was, you know.” He climbed out of the car and slammed the door.
G.o.dd.a.m.nit. Who the h.e.l.l does that kid think he is? Blake knew he had to talk to Sally, but he was in no mood for this s.h.i.+t tonight. And talking to Sally would just make him think about the s.h.i.+t Rusty had said about Dave. He checked his phone. No returned call from Danica. Weren't therapists, like doctors, supposed to be on call or something? The night just kept getting better and better.
Chapter Thirteen.
By Sunday morning Danica had two new clients and a great idea of where to take Mich.e.l.le. She threw on her jeans and a white, V-neck, cashmere sweater she'd had for years. She laced up her white Converse sneakers, which she'd purchased ages ago with Kaylie but had never worn. She eyed her Nine West pumps. It was a step, trying to define a line between work and her social life, even if a small one. She'd never wear sneakers to work. She wrapped a royal-blue scarf around her neck and grabbed her father's old army jacket, which she loved. On her way out the front door, she glanced in the mirror. She turned, inspecting herself from head to toe. She touched her hair, then her hips. Not half bad. There was something to be said about dressing young. For once her hair looked like it belonged on the person wearing it. Danica wondered why she didn't dress like that more often. A simple scarf and tossing away the pea coat for her father's jacket gave her a whole different outlook, and she felt it all the way down to her toes as she walked to the car with a new bounce in her step.
Mich.e.l.le met her in her grandmother's foyer, wearing all black, straight down to the black Converse. Inside, Danica felt like a kid. She wanted to jump up and hug Mich.e.l.le, squealing, Look, I've got on Converse too! Instead, she said, ”Ready to go?”
Mich.e.l.le surveyed Danica's outfit and smiled, then nodded.
”I'll bring her back by three, Nola,” Danica said.
Mich.e.l.le's grandmother took Danica's hand. ”Bless you, Danica. You are a gift to her right now.”
”Thank you. She's as much a gift to me.”
Mich.e.l.le rolled her eyes and walked out the door.
Danica drove to the Village, someplace she rarely went, although when she'd first moved back to Allure after college, she'd been sure she would spend a lot of time there. She'd imagined romantic strolls and dinners looking out at the mountains. But after she'd moved, real life had taken over, and those fantasies were just hopes that she would not let herself entertain, and she had quickly tucked them away. Until now.
She parked on the street in front of Steam, a little cafe with a line out the door. All of the Village streets were paved with bricks. Brick and stone town houses served as storefronts and restaurants. Ornate, iron fences and black, iron poles hosting old-fas.h.i.+oned lanterns lined the narrow streets. Danica sat in the driver's seat and remembered how she'd fallen in love with the Village. The Village had been Kaylie's hangout when they were growing up. Danica had hung out at the library. It wasn't until she had graduated from college and moved back home that she'd ventured to the Village again and become infatuated with its unique beauty.
”Are we getting out?” Mich.e.l.le asked.
Danica grabbed her purse and opened the door. ”We sure are.”
They walked up the sidewalk.
”I've been here once,” Mich.e.l.le said.
”Really? Was it long ago?”
”Yeah. With my mom, when I was just a kid. Five, maybe? I don't remember exactly when, but I remember the bricks and the lights at night.”
”It sounds like a good memory.” Don't sound like a therapist. ”I mean, the lights must have been lovely.”
”Mm-hmm. I think we sat over there.” She pointed to a courtyard. ”There were fireworks, but I don't think it was the Fourth of July.”
”They do fireworks here the second and last Friday of each month during the summers. I don't know if they did it back then, but maybe it was the same thing.”
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