The Girl of Sand & Fog Page 10

  Wow. They sound really angry. Even Bobby, and he is never anything but respectful with Linda and even-tempered in all moments. But then Zoe did say he has a contentious relationship with Len. Still, I didn’t anticipate this. The yelling. And never from both of them, and definitely never from Bobby.

  Maybe his dad is really bitching him out. Strange. Why would Len do that, since leaving a Costco-sized box of condoms in a kid’s bedroom is pretty much a green light to use them?

  The voices grow louder. Fine. I’m going out there.

  I dash into the bathroom and do a quick check of myself. My eye makeup is smudged, my cheeks are flushed and my hair is a mess. I wonder if I smell like sex. Can you smell like sex without having had sex? Crap, I’m lame and a mess.

  I take Bobby’s comb from the vanity and try to do something with my curls. Crud, I’m just turning them into frizz. That will just have to do. I make my way to the bedroom door, open it and peek out.

  “It’s none of your business what I do,” Bobby says calmly, succinctly.

  The no-longer-muffled voices hold me back in the room as my eyes lock on father and son standing toe-to-toe arguing.

  “You can date Kaley,” Len Rowan shouts, “but you draw the line there. She’s not some piece of ass you give a toss to. You treat that girl with respect. Always. If you can’t keep it zipped, you stay away from her.”

  My cheeks burn.

  “You haven’t a clue about anything,” Bobby counters in a surprisingly controlled voice. “You never have, but this is a new low even from you. Advice from Len Rowan on how to treat a girl. Excuse me if I don’t rush off to write that one down, Pop.”

  Len’s jaw clenches. “I expect you to burn it into your memory, new low or not, boy. That girl doesn’t have a father to look out for her. Your mum called me and I hopped a plane home for the holidays to get things back in line around here. I’m stepping in, whether you like it or not. Chrissie is a dear friend. She doesn’t need more to manage, especially not from you pissing in her pond.”

  Bobby makes a frustrated growl, shaking his head, and now looking like his anger is only loosely contained. “Fuck, that’s not why you’re here. You’re not here for Mom or Chrissie or even Kaley. You’re here because you’ve spent your entire life covering Alan Manzone’s ass and cleaning up his messes. You wouldn’t give a fuck what I do with Kaley if that girl wasn’t Alan’s daughter. Even if the bastard won’t admit that she is his daughter.”

  Len raises a hand, but stops it mid-swing.

  Bobby doesn’t flinch, not even a hair.

  Their eyes burn into each other.

  “Go ahead,” Bobby taunts. “I’ll let you have one punch, Pop. I know I’m not supposed to talk shit about him and that Alan Manzone is sacred to you.”

  Len’s arm relaxes at his side and he steps back. He takes several ragged deep breaths to compose himself. “It’s not smart, Bobby, to think you know more than you do. Alan is the most loyal man I’ve ever known. The most generous, dependable, and honest friend a man can have. My friend since I was your age, when another man would have left me at the curb when his star started to rise with the money pouring in. And I’m loyal to him. That is friendship.”

  Bobby shakes his head. “Covering up each other’s lies and mistakes for thirty years is not a friendship. It’s a cult. You’ve carried Alan’s water so long you can’t see the difference. Tell me, Pop, when does that girl in my bedroom start to matter more to you people than your lies and revolting web of friendship? A real friend would knock Alan upside the head and tell him to get here and take care of his daughter.”

  “Like I said, it’s not smart to talk about things you don’t know anything about. I suggest you don’t do it again.” Len grabs his drink off the table and drops heavily onto the foot of a chaise. “Discussion done. You leave that girl alone. Get your dick wet somewhere else. She’s off-limits. We would have nothing if not for Manny and I’ll cut off the money—don’t think I won’t—if you blow me off on this one.”

  Bobby’s laughter sends shivers up my spine. He collapses down in a loose-limbed way onto a patio chair. “I don’t want your money. I’ve already told you that. I’m here until I graduate in May, for Linda’s sake, then I’m getting the hell out of here and not coming back.”

  Len rolls his eyes. “Ah, that’s right. Not going to college, even though your mum wants you to. Breaking her heart so you can live poor and live real or some such nonsense like that. Fuck, that’s only something a kid raised with money would say. I’ve been poor, kid. Trust me, you won’t like it, but since you don’t want my money, would you mind signing back over to me on your twenty-fifth birthday that trust your mother made me set up for you?”

  “Consider it signed over.”

  “Good.”

  Their postures change in that argument over kind of way.

  “How long are you here for?” Bobby asks.

  Len shrugs. “I fly out on Saturday. Your mum says you’re leaving on Wednesday. Off to surf somewhere. She’s not happy about that.”

  “It’s better for everyone if I’m not here,” Bobby states calmly. “You only really fly in from the road to see Madison and Mom.”

  A look of having been stung by that comment flashes across Len’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. I can tell Bobby doesn’t pick up on it.

  I wait to see if Bobby comes back to his room for me, but after several minutes, I suck in some air and decide to go out there.

  I make my way across the patio to the pool area.

  Len’s eyes shift to me. “Kaley Stanton, there’s my girl.” He stands from where he’s sitting on the lounger.

  His expression is warm and friendly and such an abrupt change from what it was with Bobby I do a double-take. He beams at me from a face of very British features half-hidden by an unruly cloud of reddish-blond hair.

  I stop behind Bobby’s chair. “Hello, Mr. Rowan.”

  Len laughs; a pleasant, easy-flowing humor not at all like the man he’d been a few moments ago.

  “Mr. Rowan, huh? Stop that nonsense now. You’re too old to call me Uncle Len like you did when you were this high”—he lowers his hand to knee level—“but we’re still friends, aren’t we, love? So it’s ‘Len’ for you and me.”

  The weirdness of this on the heels of everything else renders me mute, so I smile and wait for Bobby to rescue me from this extremely awkward moment.

  Bobby exhales loudly and then stands. “We’re out of here, Pop.”

  Bobby does a fast inspection of me—I can see that he can tell I heard everything—and a flash of embarrassment and concern is followed by a silently asked are you all right?

  I stare at the ground, and inside I die a little, because a lot happened here today, striking at all those old wounds in me and, fuck, Len Rowan gave me a few new ones to ponder.

  The part about me being off-limits for Bobby. It’s been roiling inside me enough so that I’m wondering if that’s my appeal to Bobby. He did latch on to me pretty quickly. Zoe is right; he is the most popular guy at school. And for the first time, I’m starting to wonder if Zoe was wrong; maybe I didn’t land the hottest guy on campus in two days by being a total bitch.

  There is as much going on in Bobby’s universe as there is in mine. Subtext and undercurrents I’ve somehow missed before today, but I need to figure them out quickly. Have I read Bobby’s interest in me wrong?

  Am I just a fuck you to his dad?

  A thing he’s not supposed to do, but does because contentious relationship isn’t even in the realm of what I witnessed today?

  I hate that I’m doubting Bobby.

  I hate that today made me feel this way.

  And I really hate it because I know I love him…

  “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. I look up, startled. “I just need to grab a shirt, my shoes and my keys.”

  “See you soon, dear,” Len says.

  I nod, and Bobby starts pulling me with him toward his room. I can feel Len w
atching.

  Inside the pool house, Bobby releases my hand and reaches for a shirt. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Are you OK?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Bobby stops what he’s doing and looks at me. His eyes glow with insight. “Don’t do that, Kaley. Talk to me.”

  “It’s just—” I break off, unable to articulate the things in my head with those penetrating and soulful green eyes watching me. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it. Drive me back to school so I can get my car. That’s what I want.”

  His mouth presses in a hard line and he runs a hand several times through his hair. “Just what? You’ve never held back on speaking your mind. Don’t start now.”

  “I’m not afraid to speak my mind. Not ever, Bobby. I was trying to be considerate of you by not saying anything about what went down between you and your dad.”

  “That’s big of you. It’s also a load of crap.”

  Knee-jerk temper kicks in. “Fine. You want to know what I’m wondering?” I step into him until we’re practically nose to nose. “Why you’re really with me. When did your parents start giving you shit and saying I’m off-limits?”

  His eyes widen, surprised. Not the question he expected.

  “The first day I brought you home with me. Right after I got back from picking up my motorcycle from school. I guess I was gone too long, and Linda was up my ass the second I stepped through the door—and I quote—wanting to know if I’m such a jerk that I popped your cherry in a school parking lot before I came home. Made it very clear if it’s not popped, don’t pop it. It was fucking humiliating. They’re always giving me shit about something. Them telling me ‘no’ about you isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

  My knees go weak, I sink down on the bed, and drop my face into my hands. “Oh gross. Pop my cherry? Did Linda really say that? How can you say that isn’t about me?”

  “Because it isn’t. Everything is not about you, Kaley. You only think it is. I get it, why you feel that way, but it’s not true. Everything is not about you.”

  My face snaps up.

  “Not about me, huh? It sounded like it was a few minutes ago when your dad told you to stay clear of me. That sounded pretty fucking about me, Bobby. Are you only interested in me because your parents don’t want you to date me? Is that what we’re doing here? Hooking up because it’s part of this strange war you have with your dad?”

  He stares at me like I’m nuts.

  “You can’t honestly believe that.”

  I lift my chin. “Tell me it’s not true and I won’t.”

  “I shouldn’t have to.” He starts moving around the room in an agitated, frustrated way. “Fuck, you are paranoid in the extreme at times. Do you know that? None of any of this is about you. Linda and her revolting cherry comment is just her reverse psychology bullshit. She’s so obvious at times that if I didn’t love her I’d fucking hate her. She likes you and is still not completely certain that I’m not gay—”

  A disobedient laugh escapes me, since two minutes with Bobby should make that a preposterous concern for anyone. I could tell he wasn’t gay even before he put his mouth on my clit—oh shit, my face is on fire again—since he’s as all-male as guys get.

  “—I’ve never brought a girl home before you, other than Zoe. And before you ask, it’s because I’ve never cared for any girl enough to bring her home.”

  Pausing, he stands above me silently waiting for me to digest all that. It’s a lot to digest and he’s had a pretty rotten afternoon since his dad pounded on the door, so I shrug and lamely say, “Oh.”

  He sits down on the bed close to me and collapses back in total frustration. “My wanting to be with you,” he continues in a breathy, ragged voice, “has nothing to do with anything but me and you. That shit you heard from Len, that isn’t about you and me, and has nothing to do with any sort of ‘war’—as you put it—between me and my dad. That’s about him.”

  He pins me in a gaze the color of lush green grass and I know, from that spot deep inside me, that he’s telling me the truth about everything. Bobby’s total honesty in every moment is a big part of what I love about him.

  I lie back, turning onto my side to face him. I keep my mouth shut this time. He’s not finished; I can feel it.

  He slowly rolls until we are face-to-face.

  “I’d hate Len if he had a clue he was fucking doing the wrong thing. But he doesn’t. He’s a good guy. Just wrong most of the time. In his own warped way, what you heard was Len Rowan trying to be a stand-up man for you.”

  I crinkle my nose. “Really?”

  A spark of humor flashes in his eyes. “Yep. Sad, but true.” I smile and he touches my face, causing me to melt into the play of his fingers. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. It’s the first thing Len’s done in a long time that I sort of respect him for. I can’t hate him for thinking you deserve the best. No way. It’s how I feel. I love you.”

  Holy shit.

  Now he says it?

  This is so not the way I imagined the first time a guy would say those words to me.

  He starts to brush my jawline with his thumb and lightly traces my face with his kisses. “I love you, Kaley. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

  I ease into his mouth. “I love you, too.”

  I kiss him in a slow, deep, tongue-swirling way that makes the heat turn up in me even after our argument. It doesn’t take long before I’m pushing into him. He’s pushing into me. I grind into him and he’s hard and straining against his sweatpants. And it’s back inside me, too: that burning need because I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  I break the kiss, breathing heavily, and rest my face against his chin. “Since we got that cleared up and we love each other, does that mean this fight is over and we’re going to Santa Cruz so we can pop each other’s cherry?”

  His eyes go from passion-glazed to wide open. “What did you say?”

  I peek at him.

  I try really hard not to.

  I can’t help it.

  I roll onto my back, laughing uproariously and hugging my stomach. The laughter is good. It blocks out the pulsing in my sex, probably better than a cold shower would.

  Bobby covers his face with his hand, and from what I can see between his fingers I’m not sure if he’s laughing or grimacing.

  Bang.

  “It doesn’t take ten minutes to get your shoes, boy. Out of there. Now.”

  Bobby stands up and grabs the keys from the nightstand. He looks down at his groin, groans, and plucks at the fabric covering his dick.

  “Fuck. Stop laughing, Kaley. This isn’t funny. If you loved me you wouldn’t laugh. I’m in pain here.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I swipe open my phone and read through the last series of texts from Zoe. This is either going to work or it’s not. How the fuck did it work for Zoe? She’s already at the end of the driveway waiting in her car for me.

  I click off my phone, lie back on my bed and groan.

  Crap. This is stupid.

  It will never work.

  But it is the best plan we came up with last night.

  It’s not even my plan.

  It’s Zoe’s.

  It has to be doomed to failure. That Zoe thought of this should tell me not to attempt it, but my procrastination in getting permission for the Santa Cruz trip from Chrissie has made it pretty much unavoidable if I want to be in the car next to Bobby today.

  If I ask Chrissie this morning, straight up, if I can go the answer is going to be no. Mom hates short notice, and even if I’d ask two weeks ago like Bobby wanted me to I’m pretty sure she would have said no anyway.

  I take in a deep breath.

  Fuck, I’m trying it.

  I’ve got nothing to lose.

  It’s the only plan I have.

  I lug my duffel to the kitchen. Mom is sitting at the table with her morning coffee. Alone. Perfect. Lourdes would see through this in half a secon
d. Krystal would, too, but unlike the housekeeper, my sister wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. She’d call me out on it.

  I drop my bag heavily on the floor then quickly turn to pour a cup of coffee so my back is to Chrissie.

  “Good morning, Kaley,” I hear my mom say from behind me. “You’re up early. What’s with the suitcase?”

  My cheeks heat. Fuck. I hate lying and I’m not any good at it. I take a moment to stir creamer into my coffee, trying to slow my heartbeat.

  I calmly turn around and face my mom with my best duh, you’ve got to be kidding expression. “Big Bear. Snowboarding. With the Kennedys. Over the holiday. Until Sunday. Remember?”

  Chrissie frowns. “No. I don’t. What are you talking about?”

  I groan in frustration. “We talked about this.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  I flounce across the kitchen and drop down heavily on a chair. “I can’t believe you forgot. Are you telling me I can’t go now? I promised Zoe.”

  Chrissie’s eyes widen. “I’m not telling you anything because I don’t know anything about this.”

  I grab my phone. “Fine. I’ll just call Zoe and tell her I’m not coming.”

  I tap in the password. Shit, my mom’s not stopping me. Good one, Zoe. I should never have listened to her. Oh, a new text from Zoe opens on the screen.

  Zoe: Make sure if your Mom decides to call to check on things that she calls only my dad. Only my dad. Don’t forget. This is important.

  I quickly close the text box. I change course. “It’s not fair that I have to stick around just because you forgot about something I asked you about weeks ago.”

  “We never discussed this,” Chrissie repeats more insistently.

  “Well, can I go?”

  “Snowboarding.” She frowns, shaking her head as she folds up her newspaper. “Since when are you into snowboarding?”

  “I’m not. Zoe is going to teach me. She doesn’t want to be stuck on the slopes with her dad alone for the holidays. I promised. I’m her only friend and now I have to ditch her—”

  I cut off dramatically.