Part 14 (2/2)

I feel so stupid and ugly.

You're not stupid. You're not ugly.

I shook my head, looking at myself in the mirror. Wearing jeans, I looked even more casual and uncaring, especially since the ones I had put on had tears in the knees. I took them off and searched around in my closet, wis.h.i.+ng I had money to buy new clothes once in a while like a normal person.

It had nothing to do, of course, with the spiffy clothes that Jackson Ledbetter wore.

The doorbell rang.

I hurriedly put on the shorts that I had started with.

J.'s here. Tell him I'll be there in a minute.

Dad?

What?

You look fine.

He grabbed my hand and pulled.

I let myself be led into the living room.

Be nice! I signed to Noah before answering the door. I signed to Noah before answering the door.

He smiled, showing his wicked teeth.

I made a fist and shook it in his face.

He tapped on his chin, as if to say, sock it to me, baby sock it to me, baby.

He threw open the door and invited Jackson inside.

”Hey,” I said, my belly rumbling with nerves.

G.o.d, he looked good. His hair was cut perfectly, was combed perfectly, and looked perfect. He wore very nice cargo pants with a neon-pink polo s.h.i.+rt. His teeth were utterly straight and white, his muscles toned, his belly slender. His genes obviously knew little about acne, cellulite, back hair. It had probably been years since the last time he belched or farted.

What could he possibly see in me?

”Y'all ready?” he asked, trying out a Southern accent.

”Let's get her done,” I said, trying to sound confident. I collected my camera and wallet, and gave directions as Jackson drove to the Furniture Market area on Coley Road.

We looked at kitchen tables, beds, sofas, recliners, and dressers. Unlike Southern gay boys, Jackson didn't blend into the background. He was too well-dressed, too well-groomed, had no facial hair, and didn't scratch his a.s.s from time to time just to remind the world that he was a G.o.dd.a.m.n man, by G.o.d, and don't you forget it.

We had a certain sort of fun and raised more than a few eyebrows as two men and a deaf boy laid down on beds to see if they would ”fit right,” laughing and giggling all the while.

Having made his choices and arranged for delivery later that evening, lunch was the next thing on the agenda.

”I will defer to your better judgment,” Jackson said with regard to the choice of restaurant.

”I've heard Atlanta Bread is pretty good,” I suggested, taking my best shot.

”Atlanta Bread?” he repeated, incredulous.

”I don't do a whole lot of dining out,” I admitted, feeling flush with sudden embarra.s.sment. ”It's a bit beyond our budget.”

”But surely you must eat out once in a while.”

”Don't call me s.h.i.+rley,” I said. ”We're partial to Sonic, actually.”

”That place where you park outside and they bring your food to you? A car hop?”

I smiled rather sheepishly.

What was wrong with Sonic?

”Some of the Mexican restaurants are really good, I've heard,” I said, trying another approach and feeling increasingly fl.u.s.tered. ”Kind of expensive, though.”

”How much?”

”Ten to twenty dollars a pop.”

”That's all?”

”I have a part-time job and I make minimum wage. You do the math.”

”How can you live on that?” he asked. But then he saw the look of embarra.s.sment that spread across my face. ”I'm sorry,” he said. ”I didn't mean... well, I don't know what I meant. I didn't mean to embarra.s.s you.”

An awkward silence fell as Jackson Ledbetter considered the ramifications of dating someone who lived well below the poverty level and used coupons and had never once worn a tiara and probably never would.

”I thought you sold a ton of books,” he said at last.

”That was a long time ago,” I confessed. ”My royalty checks have dwindled to next to nothing and I don't seem to be able to come up with any good ideas. Writers don't make a whole lot of money. Certainly not enough to live on.”

”Well,” he said at last, ”if you were hungry in this town of yours, where would you go?” He tried to put a brave face on it.

”There's a place at the mall that does some really good hot Italian sandwiches. Noah loves the pizza there. It's not too expensive and you can do some people-watching.”

”Sounds like fun,” he said. ”I haven't been to the mall yet.”

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