“Okay, we doing the usual?” I asked, coming over to stand behind him, draping a second towel around his shoulders. It didn’t cover as much as a cape would, but I didn’t charge like a salon, either. Outside I heard the roar of bike pipes. Puck. Great. Why did he have to move in next to me?
“Yeah,” Blake said. “You know me—keep it simple.”
Simple it was. He liked his hair short, so short that he didn’t have to worry about it at all, which made my life easy. A few snips to shape the top, then the trimmer did most of the work for me. Ten minutes later we’d finished our beers and the cut, and Blake was back on his feet, brushing the loose hairs off his chest.
He stretched and looked at me, smiling.
“You know, if I wasn’t batshit crazy over Danielle I’d be all over you, Becca,” he said. I blinked, startled.
“What?”
“I think sometimes you don’t realize how special you are,” he said, casually grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Joe’s a decent guy, and he’d take good care of you. Maybe he’s not your one and only, but don’t ever settle, okay? You’re better than that.”
I gaped at him as he gave me a quick hug, opening his wallet to pull out a ten-dollar bill. It wasn’t much, but he always liked to leave me something. It’d be a big help, too. My power bill was due soon and I was still short.
“You don’t need to pay me,” I reminded him. “You always drive. I should be paying you for the gas.”
Blake rolled his eyes.
“I can’t let you drive,” he said, his voice soft with a hint of humor. “You know how I feel about women drivers. Not only that, you’re cheap. Costs me twice that much in town.”
“Wow, you almost got out the door without fucking up,” I said, flipping him off. He laughed and threw me a little salute as the door closed behind him.
Huh.
I’d been friends with Blake for close to a year now, but he still managed to surprise me.
—
I drank another beer as I swept up hair trimmings, then took a shower to wash off the day’s grime. I followed the shower with a pair of loose cotton pants and a tank top. I hadn’t been kidding about wanting to relax. Not even my Singer tempted me at this point . . .
Hungry, I opened my fridge to figure out food and had to laugh because it was full of beer. It always was, despite my poverty—another sign that I had good friends. My place was the most convenient for all of us to get together and I’d learned long ago that a few seed beers tended to replicate themselves as time went on. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to actually buy alcohol, which was a damned good thing because I also couldn’t remember the last time I could afford it.
Twenty minutes later, I finished off my dinner of generic macaroni and cheese (nothing but the best in my house!) feeling pleasantly relaxed. It was nearly eight thirty and the sun had faded behind the hills. There would still be light for a long time but when you lived in the bottom of a valley, direct sun exposure is sadly limited . . .
Like most nights, I decided to climb out on the roof next door. I grabbed a blanket and threw it down, lying back and closing my eyes to ponder the situation with my mom.
Would she really leave him?
The thought excited and terrified me. For years I’d been furious over all she’d done to ruin my life. I couldn’t count how many times I’d cried, Regina’s strong, work-hardened arms wrapped tight around me. Slowly that had changed . . . I wouldn’t say I’d forgiven Mom, but holding on to anger gets old. Last year I’d made a conscious decision to start letting it go. Sometimes I managed to pull that off, sometimes I didn’t.
But maybe this time things might really be different. Could I let myself hope? Just a little?
“So which one is it?”
I jerked upright with a squawk. Puck Redhouse was sitting on the false front of the building directly in front of me, arms crossed and eyes hard.
“Excuse me?”
“Which guy are you fucking?” he asked, the words clipped. “First I see you playing grabass with Blake Carver. Then you’re with Collins. Now Blake’s back at your place half naked. Your girl Danielle know what kind of ‘friend’ you are?”
My eyes narrowed as his meaning sank in. I opened my mouth to insist that there was nothing between me and Blake, then snapped it shut because why the hell should I have to defend myself to Puck Redhouse?
“What, can’t think of an excuse?” he asked, voice tight.
“Exactly what should I say? That I’m a slut who’ll sleep with anything that moves? Hypocrite much?”
That startled him. Fair enough—I’d startled myself. This is the problem with alcohol, my sense of self-preservation pointed out. Don’t piss off the scary guy, you fuckwit!
“Guess I had that coming,” he acknowledged reluctantly after a long pause. “It’s none of my business who you sleep with.”
One word from me and he’d make it his business, though. He’d made that clear last night, and now it hung between us so thick I could hardly breathe. Awkward silence fell. I shot a glance at my open window, wondering if I could make a run for it. That’s when I realized Puck must’ve seen me with Blake—all of my curtains were wide open.
I’d gotten too used to his place being empty.
“Feel free to go hide if you’re scared of me,” Puck commented.
“Very mature,” I pointed out, narrowing my eyes. “Daring me not to leave? What is this, kindergarten?”