“Okay. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He crosses the kitchen, returning to the door where he entered. “Maybe I’ll stop by and see if you need any help moving shit. Keep you from getting any more injuries.”
“I think sometimes injuries are part of the process.”
“They don’t have to be.”
One last grin, a last flash of that impossible dimple, and he slips out the door as fast as he appeared. I collapse against the wall, doing my best to remember how to breathe. My heart is beating so fast, and it’s so silly.
I’m smart. I’m focused, and I’m not getting sidetracked. Or distracted, no matter how tempting Scout Dunne might be. I don’t need his help.
Two
Scout
“You turned down the Chiefs?” My brother leans against the bar, and I watch as he picks at the label on his Imperial lager.
J.R. is only a year older than me, but he’s darker, quieter. He keeps to himself, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person he talks to when he needs to get something off his chest, which is rare. He’s not in that mood tonight, even though it’s been a while since we’ve talked.
A live band is playing behind us, and we’re at the Tuna Tiki, an old-school beach hangout in Oceanside, about fifteen minutes from home. It’s early May, a month before the tourists will start jamming up the place, getting drunk, and making it too obnoxious to hang.
I’m not hating. I’m just saying tonight I prefer it like this, when we’re pretty much the only people here.
I take a pull of my Corona. “I didn’t like their offer.”
“Didn’t like it?” He glances up at me with those blue eyes, same as mine. “I heard they offered you starting quarterback.”
“Quarterback.” I exhale a bitter laugh as I look towards the stage. “You’re the quarterback. I’m the receiver.”
“You could play whatever you wanted. Hell, you probably still sleep with a football under your head.”
“You turned them down first. Why are you busting my balls?”
“I turned them down because Becky got pregnant.” He adjusts the cap on his head, but he’s still not smiling. “I didn’t want to be gone all the time. I wanted to be a dad.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said.”
Becky St. John was the bitchy head cheerleader when we were in high school, and now she’s a bitchy sister-in-law. I’m pretty sure she only wanted to be with my brother because he was the star quarterback. She’s a walking cliché.
Still, she held onto him through college, even though I know he would’ve ended things if she hadn’t turned up pregnant last year, his senior year at Clemson. Everybody said she did it to hold onto him because she thought he was going pro. I only know it takes two to tango, and nobody was holding a gun to his head.
He’s a damn good dad, though. Works hard, takes Jesse everywhere, while Princess Becky lounges around the house or complains if he wants to do anything like hang out with me for an hour or two on a Tuesday night.
Jesse James Dunne makes up for everything, my brother likes to say. I’m happy for him being a dad and all, but they don’t look like a happily ever after to me. Not that it’s my business—unless he wants it to be.
He’s looking dark, so I shove his shoulder. “Well, I’m not interested in your sloppy seconds offer. It’s not my position.”
I learned that loud and clear senior year when coach tried to follow up our state championship by sticking me as quarterback. We didn’t win a single game.
“You had a shitty team.”
“They weren’t shitty. I don’t have your arm.” Picking at the label, I think about those years we played together and won. Every. Single. Game. “It’s not the same without you.”
He doesn’t answer, and all this dragging up senior year causes my thoughts to go to Daisy Sales and our run-in this afternoon.
I thought for sure she’d be long gone by now. Hell, when we were seniors, all she ever talked about was getting out of Fireside. It was the one thing we had in common.
Today, when I walked in that door and saw her in those giant overalls with her short blonde hair curling around her ears, I almost forgot why I was there.
She’s cute as ever, with those smart brown eyes sizing me up. She’s the only girl I’ve ever known who wasn’t falling over herself trying to suck my dick. She’s sassy and cute, like one of those pixies. Tinkerbell or something.
She’s also focused and serious and always knows the right answer, even if she does that thing where her face gets all red when we talk. I don’t know what to make of it, but it’s cute as fuck.
“What are you grinning about?” My brother’s sharp voice snaps me out of my daydream.
Clearing my throat, I signal the bartender. “I wasn’t grinning.”
“You were.” J.R. pushes off the bar. “I’m taking off. I said I’d be back in an hour.”
“What’s Becky’s problem? Jesse was asleep when we left.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“We’ve only had one beer.” I start after him. “How’s it going with Dad?”
He exhales a bitter chuckle, and I can guess. Those two are oil and water. They have been since Mom died.
“Jesse’s doing good? I need to get over and see him.”
“He’s good.” That gets me a brief smile. “Being a dad is the best thing I’ve done.”
With that he heads for the door, and I’m left feeling shitty for talking about football and walking away from it just like he did. Or maybe I’m still self-conscious about my reasons, wondering if they’re dumb. My brother walked away to be a dad. I’m headed to Hollywood.
J.R. would never tell me what not to do, but I’m sure he has his doubts just like everybody else. Everybody except one person…
“Want me to walk you out?” I start to go, but just as I stand, I see something that knocks the wind out of me.
A hostess
