Zora was rolling her eyes and huffing, in want of attention, but I didn't have the time or patience to work on my girlfriend just then. It was bad enough that Pop had basically forced me to give Doll a lift to the church, mandating we make contact—but she'd decided to bring along some old fogey as a date. The dopey guy in my rearview mirror was all sheepish hipster grins. They were scrunched up close to one another, because the truck rig only had two seats in the back and Denny had taken one of them. I watched her laughing softly, coyly, as he murmured things into her ear. Like a goddamned sleaze ball. Fucking loser apparently didn’t even have a car of his own.
“Jesus, Landon! Watch the road!” Z cried out, in the nick of time. I jammed on the brakes, sending us all tumbling forward. The car behind me honked with fury, but my eyes sought out Doll first. She was patting her pretty hair down, in the rearview mirror. Tugging up her V-neck t-shirt. I watched him mouth something to her, his skinny arms rising as if they could protect her: Are you okay?
That fucktard.
“I don't know why you're being such a baby,” Z said to me, putting a smooth elbow on the cup-holders so as to bridge the gap between us.
“He's like a hundred! She's the baby.” I fought to keep my voice low, but in his seat catty-corner, I could see Denny snickering. I bet he was loving this.
“She's a consenting adult. And I was talking about your Dad, anyways. Jesus.” Z narrowed her heavily lined eyes in my direction, and for an exhausting second, I thought she was about to pin me. Then I watched her gaze drift back towards the side-view mirror, and thusly, herself.
I clutched the steering wheel and gritted my teeth. We weren't ten blocks from the church, but I'd forgotten to take the sneaky back-roads route because Doll had gotten me so distracted. She smiled in the mirror, showing her teeth to that stranger. I balled my fist.
I mean, I knew I had no right to be mad. She was entitled to skip off into the sunset with whatever other hoity-toity person she could find to enjoy her own insufferable company. She was so proud, so holier-than-thou. Why this cranky girl kept refusing to vacate my daydreams was anyone's guess. I caught a whiff of Zora's perfume from the passenger seat. She sure loved a special occasion, my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Fuckbuddy. Whatever-we-were. Why, I wondered to myself, couldn't I have hitched my wagon to someone—easier—this summer? And not easier like the obvious way, but rather some chick like Yvette: a beautiful, unchallenging woman who knew what she wanted and wouldn't ask too much of me. Someone with a good head on her shoulders and few demands. Somehow, I'd managed to pack this truck with women who knew exactly how to drive me batshit crazy.
At long last, I deposited the five of us in the empty parking lot outside Pop's church. His twenty or so other regular parishioners all seemed to have made it out for the big day. I wondered who'd be doing the honors, considering Pop was the only Pastor at the Holy Congregation of the Ascension. I supposed he had friends inside, preparing to pop out of the woodwork and lend their congratulations. And this must be the son we've heard so much about, the congregants might say. You must be a proud man, Father!
“You're never allowed to drive my truck again,” said Denny, as he reached up to pluck the keys from my fist. “Fuck if I care your Saab's in the shop.”
I nodded dully, sliding the emergency brake up. It took a swift elbow in the ribs from Zora to get me out of the car, where apparently Doll needed to change into her wedding clothes. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, trying my damndest not to imagine her movements. Her tiny body, pressing up against the familiar terrain of the truck...her big naked breasts, swinging in the reflection of my rearview mirror... her pale, taut, back flush against the car seats.
The fogey, playing the gentlemen, hopped out of the car and came to stand next to me on the sidewalk. Jerk barely reached my shoulders. He looked shrimpy, like he'd never clocked an hour at the gym. What could she possibly see in him?
“You're the football guy, right?” Old Man River said, in an irritatingly chirpy voice. Catching a slice of Zora's expression, I nodded. I guessed it would be showing my hand to be outright impolite to my stepsister's wedding date.
“She's talked about you,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice and leaned toward me. I caught a whiff of some froufy, adult cologne. “I'm Nate Dempsey. I hope this isn't too weird for you. Ash and I are friends from the school, and she just kind of invited me last minute. I'm really grateful to be included.”
“You look a bit old for a high school senior.”
“How's that?” Denny looked up from his corner of the pavement, where he'd been steadfastly preoccupied kicking rocks. He snorted and grinned in my direction.
“You look a little older than high school, man. All I'm saying.” I bit my lip. The truck bed wobbled back and forth, and I heard a cute little squeal from within. Doll was clearly struggling with some part of her dress. A part of me wished I could tap on the window and offer my aid. Untangle that bra strap. Smooth down those hose.
“I'm not too much older than you are, actually. And what can I say? Your sister's mature.”
My nails were suddenly digging into the flesh of my palms.
“Step-sister, bro.”
“Whatever you say.” We stood shifting on the sidewalk for another few moments, awkward as hell. Then the ancient one opened his trap again. “She had a really shitty year at that high school. We got to be close. I totally understand this protective brother vibe, Landon, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm one of the good guys.”
He even sounded like a creepy teacher. All amiable and calming, like a person trying to talk someone off a ledge.
“I think Ash is a doll. Honestly.”
I didn't even realize I'd done anything weird until I got a cue from Zora again. Her eyes had lifted from her cell phone, and now appeared to be boring their way through my face. Denny had appeared right at my side, suddenly—though I saw his attention was fixed on the side of his truck, where a decent-sized dent now lived above the driver's door handle.
“What the fuck, Landy?!” he shouted. It was then that I connected my pulsing fist to the damage. “You fucking Spazmo today, or what? Why are you punching my truck?”
Before I could come up with even the glimmer of a lie, Doll emerged from the opposite door of the cab. She wore a silky, purple, sleeveless dress that clung to her frame. She had a bright white daisy tucked behind one ear. Her lips were shiny, bearing just a trace of pink. The dress looked made for her body. As she walked towards our group on the sidewalk, the swampy air seemed to bend around her. It was like she was gliding through water—silent, impossible, lovely. The exact vision from my recurring dream.
None of us three guys said a word at first. Then my girlfriend cleared her throat.
“Come on, goons,” said Zora, in her iciest, she-wolf voice. “Don't want to miss your Dad's wedding because of some pair of legs, do we?”
Chapter Fourteen