Chapter 17: Evan
EVAN
Me:
Hey. Just checking in to make sure you’re alive.
Gen:
You’ve been asking me that question every other day for almost 2 weeks. Still alive. Just been busy with work.
Me:
Same.
Gen:
You realize usually when a guy “checks in” at 1 in the morning, it’s considered a booty call?
Me:
Blasphemy! I would never besmirch your purity like that.
Gen:
Uh-huh.
Me:
Tbh, I can’t sleep.
Gen:
Same.
Me:
You good, other than being a busy insomniac?
Gen:
All good here.
Me:
Dinner one of these days?
Me:
Just to catch up?
It’s been six hours since Gen stopped responding to my texts. As I help Mac set the breakfast table outside on the deck, I keep feeling a phantom vibration in my pocket, hoping it’s her. But no. Now it’s just been six hours, forty-two minutes.
“Grab the napkins, will you?” Mac says, handing me utensils
to lay down.
My mind is elsewhere as I duck inside to grab some napkins. I’d thought things were getting better with Gen. We’ve been texting here and there for the past couple weeks, just random banter or quick hellos. Every time I mention getting together, however, she shuts down and stops responding. I can’t get even a foot in the door. She won’t go for coffee, won’t eat lunch with me—nothing. She’s the most infuriating person I’ve ever known. Worse, she likes it that way.
“So what’s your plan for the day?” Cooper asks after we’re seated to eat. “Got some orphans to pull out of a burning building, or what?”
Mac passes me the scrambled eggs. “Still doing the nursing home?”
Daisy pokes her head up from under the table to beg for a piece of sausage. When I start to hand her a piece, Mac points a knife at me.
“Don’t you dare. That stuff will kill her.”
While Mac is preoccupied with chastising me, Cooper slips a chuck to Daisy, and I stifle a grin.
“Anyway, no,” I say in response to their badgering. “I’m not allowed back there since our crazed beast ate that dude’s bird.”
“Wait, what?” Mac’s utensils clang on her plate as she drops them. “What the fuck?”
“Well, ate is probably an exaggeration,” I relent. “I’m pretty sure most of the bird was intact when Daisy spit it up.”
Coop barks out a hysterical laugh, to which Mac shoots him the scary eyes.
“This happened last week?” she shouts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told Coop. Guess I forgot you weren’t there.” Cooper was falling on the floor cracking up when I told him
about the incident with Lloyd. In fact, he’d suggested we keep it on the DL because Mac would flip out. Guess I forgot that part too.
“You didn’t think to mention it?” Mac cuts a glare at my brother.
“She’s a dog,” he says lightly. “It’s what they do.”
“This isn’t over, Hartley,” she replies in a voice that says he’s not getting his dick sucked anytime soon.
“Anyway, I’ve got a new gig,” I continue just to save Coop from the weight of his impending punishment. “I signed up to be a Big Brother.”
Yup, it’s happening. I’m hopping on the Big Brothers bandwagon. I tried out a few other volunteer gigs after the nursing home didn’t work out, the most recent one being a shift picking up trash on the beach. Which was going well until I was attacked by a homeless dude under the boardwalk. He chased me off by throwing bottles at my head. I swear, nobody had warned me civic responsibility was so treacherous. At any rate, I figured some disadvantaged kid has got to be less dangerous than hobos and handsy old ladies.
“Oh, Christ, no,” Coop groans. “You realize you can’t just take him to a bar for four hours, right?”
“Fuck off.” Just for that, I steal the last pancake. “I’ll be a great role model. Teach him all the things adults don’t want to tell kids.”
“Child endangerment is a crime, Evan.” Mac smirks at me. “If the cops find you stumbling out of the Pony Stable with a ten-year-old, you’re going to end up in jail.”
“As always, I appreciate your support, princess.” Their lack of confidence is disappointing if not unexpected. “Anyway, he’s fourteen. Plenty old enough to learn how the world works.”
“God help that kid,”
Coop mutters.
I get it. They’d rather keep me in the screwup box than believe I’m evolving. I guess that’s not entirely unwarranted, but an ounce or two of faith, a little benefit of the doubt, would be appreciated. They make it sound like I’m gonna kill the poor kid. But how hard can it be? Feed him, water him, turn him in at the end of the day. I mean, hell. I’ve rented a car before.
Is this really so different?
His name is Riley and he’s a typical skinny Bay teenager with shaggy blond hair and a summer tan. I had pictured a little punk-ass like me, some dude with a smart mouth and more attitude than sense, ready to tell me to get bent. In reality, he’s a bit shy. Looking at the ground as we wander the boardwalk, because I hadn’t thought too much about what there is to do with him that doesn’t involve any of the nonsense I was getting up to at his age.
It was weird, if I’m honest, going into the public library to meet him. Like checking out a library book, but a whole damn human. I walked out of there with a person it’s my job not to lose or get maimed, and suddenly that seems like a big ask. They didn’t even hand me a first aid kit.
“So what are you into, kid?”
“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “Stuff, I guess.”
“Stuff like what?”
“Sailing, sometimes. Fishing. And, um, surfing. But I’m not very good. My board’s kinda old, so.”
He’s killing me. He’s got his head bowed and hands in his pockets, sweat starting to trickle from under his wispy mop of hair. It’s a blistering June day and the boardwalk is swarmed with tourists, all hot and sticky. We’re like hot dogs in a sidewalk cart, rolling around
in each other’s sweat.
“Hey, you hungry?” I ask, because it really is too boiling out here to spend all afternoon walking around.
“Sure, I guess.”
Cooper was right—with a lack of any better ideas, I pull Riley into a bar. Well, not exactly a bar. Big Molly’s is a kitschy kind of tourist trap, with random tchotchkes on the wall and live music on the weekends. The waitresses run around in skimpy outfits. Turns out, the kid notices. He perks right up when he gets an eyeful of the hostess in a crop top and tiny skirt.
“Hey you,” she coos by way of a greeting. “Been awhile.”
I flash a grin at her. “Got a table for two?”
Stella leans over the hostess stand, pushing her tits together. “Who’s your friend?” She winks at him, which would have been more than enough to give me a boner at that age. It’s unfair, torturing the kid like that. “He’s cute.”
“Riley, this is Stella.”
“Hey, sweetie,” she says when he can’t quite work up a reply. “Come on, I’ll get you seated.”
“You ever been here before?” I ask him as we settle at a high-top table. A band onstage is playing some early nineties covers. At the bar counter, college guys and dads who escaped while their wives went shopping occupy the old wooden stools.
Riley shakes his head no. “My aunt hates these places.”
“So what’s the story there?” No one ends up in a program like this if their lives are going totally to plan. “If you want to talk about it, that is.”
Another shrug. “I live with my mom’s sister. She’s an ER nurse, so she works a lot. My mom died when I was little. Cancer.”
“Where’s your dad?”
He stares at his menu without reading it, flicking the laminated edge with his fingernail. “Went to prison about six years ago. He was out on parole for a while, but then
he took off. Got arrested again, I think. My aunt doesn’t like to talk about him, so she doesn’t really tell me stuff. She thinks it upsets me.”
“Does it?”
“I dunno. Sometimes, I guess.”
I’m starting to understand why they stuck him with me. “My dad died when I was younger too.”
Riley meets my eyes.
“Drunk driving accident,” I add. “My mom hasn’t been around since then either.”
“Did you have to go live somewhere else? Like, in foster care or with another relative?”
“My uncle took care of my brother and me,” I explain, and it’s not until this very moment that I consider what might have happened to me and Cooper if Levi hadn’t been there. Funny how our lives teeter on these rails, riding the edge over a dark unknown. How easy it is to fall off. “Do you like your aunt? You two get along?”
A slight smile erases the gloom from his expression. “She’s nice. But she can be kind of a lot sometimes. She worries about me.” He sighs quietly. “She thinks I’m depressed.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t think so? I mean, I don’t really have many friends. Don’t like being around a lot of people. I’m just, I dunno, quiet.”
I get that. Sometimes things happen to us when we’re young, and we learn to stay inside ourselves. Especially when we don’t know how to talk about what’s going on in our heads. It doesn’t always mean anything or indicate a bout of depression. Being a teenager is hard enough without real shit getting in the way.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I tell Riley.
“Hey, boys.” Our waitress sets down a basket of hush puppies and dipping sauce, along with two tall glasses of water. “How we doing?” The brunette greets me with a wry smile and an arched brow that suggests I better
prove I remember her.
Come on now. Give me a little credit here. “Hey, Rox. How’s things?”
At that she smiles, satisfied. “Another summer.”
“I hear ya.”
She gives the kid a once-over. “This guy giving you a hard time, sweetie?”
“No,” he says, grinning like he’s never seen a pair of fake tits before. “I’m fine.”
“Good. What’ll you have?”
Riley grabs his menu again and rushes to scan it front and back, realizing he hadn’t actually read it.
“What’s fresh?” I ask Rox.
“Grouper’s good. I’d get it Cajun style.”
I glance at Riley. “You like grouper?” It occurs to me he might feel weird about what he should order when some dude he only met today is paying. I would.
“Sure,” he says, looking almost relieved.
“Cool. We’ll do that.”
When she’s done taking our order, Riley takes a second to admire her retreating backside before leaning in toward me. “You know her?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Hey, Evan.” Another waitress saunters by. Cass, a short, cute blonde in a tank top she took a pair of scissors to, waves as she passes our table.
“You know a lot of girls here,” Riley remarks.
I swallow a laugh at how much he sounds like Mackenzie in that moment. Every time we walk into a place and a girl gives me a nod, Mac rolls her eyes. Like we didn’t meet because she was out helping her roommate hunt me down for a one-night stand.
“It’s a small town.”
“So you’ve, like, slept
with all of them?”
Well, that’s more forward than I thought he was capable of. “To some extent or another, yeah, sure.”
I realize then his eyes aren’t wandering because he’s avoiding eye contact with me. As I track his attention around the room, it’s clear he’s checking out all the teenage tourists, the bored girls perusing their phones while their families sit around tables scarfing down nachos and inhaling two-dollar margaritas. Suddenly, I’m just hoping this kid doesn’t ask me to buy him condoms. Not that I wouldn’t, but I don’t need to get kicked out of another volunteer program because he goes home to tell his aunt I’m trying to get him laid.
“What about you?” I counter. “Got a girlfriend or anything?”
He shakes his head. “Girls think I’m weird. I don’t know how to talk to them.”
“You’re not weird,” I assure him. Yes, he’s shy, but he doesn’t give off any creep vibes. The kid just needs someone to build up his confidence. “Girls can be complicated. You just need to know the signs.”
“Signs?”
“When a girl likes you. When she wants you to come talk to her.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one.” I scan the room and locate a hot redhead in her early twenties. She’s sitting with her girlfriends around a fishbowl of blue liquor with four straws. “When you catch each other’s attention and she smiles at you—that means she thinks you’re cute.”
Riley follows my gaze, his eyes glazing over slightly.
It takes less than two seconds for the redhead to notice me. A mischievous smile curves her full lips. I offer a faint half smile in return.
“Then what?” Riley
sounds almost eager now.
“You go introduce yourself. Get her number.”
“But how?” he insists, mindlessly popping hush puppies in his mouth. “What do you say to them?”
Me, personally? Not much, really. But I can’t tell him to buy her a drink or ask if she wants a ride on his motorcycle. Once I had a driver’s license, all I had to do was ask a chick if her parents were home. But that’s neither here nor there. Riley is the sensitive type, I’d guess. He needs a different approach.
“Okay,” I tell him. “So, if she’s alone—you never want to approach a girl standing with her family; dads are a surefire cockblock—but if she’s alone, you go up and say hi.”
“Hi? That’s it? But what do I say after that?”
“Ask her …” I mull it over. I don’t want the kid to sound like a tool. If I send him out there to get his heart broken, I’m not a very good Big Brother. “Okay, do this. You see a girl you like, she smiles at you. You say hi, introduce yourself, then say something like, what do you like to do at the beach. Then what’s her favorite day. Her favorite time of day. And once you get those answers, you take out your phone and tell her you’ve set a reminder for that day and time to pick her up for a beach date.”
Riley studies me with a skeptical grimace. “That seems kinda corny.”
“Wow. Okay. Getting heckled by a fourteen-year-old.”
He snorts a laugh.
“Look. Chicks like a guy with confidence. They want you to take charge of the situation. Show some game.”
He shakes his head, stabbing his straw into his glass of water. “I don’t think I can do that.”
I ponder some more. How hard can it be to pick up a teenage girl these days? “Right, how ’bout this. You see a girl you like?”
Riley is hesitant, glancing around the restaurant. Beyond the bar, the place is stuffed with the lunch rush. Eventually,
his gaze lands on a brunette sitting with her family; she looks to be the youngest of two older sisters. As the girls chat among themselves, the mom grabs her purse from the back of her chair and heads off toward the restrooms.
“Quick, before her mom comes back. You go over there and say to her sisters, ‘Hey, I’m Riley, and I’m not very good at this but I’d really like to ask your sister out on a date, and I was hoping you could help me.’ ”
“I don’t know,” he says, watching them with trepidation. “What if they laugh at me? Or think I’m a weirdo?”
“They won’t. Trust me, they’ll think it’s cute. Just smile, be natural. You’re a good-looking guy, Riley. You’ve got that sweet-boy face that girls love. Have a little faith in yourself.”
For a second or two, I think he’s going to psych himself out. He remains glued to his chair. Then, with a deep breath, he gathers his confidence and stands from the table. He takes a couple steps forward before doubling back. “Wait. What do I do if she says yes?”
I smother a laugh. “Get her number and tell her you’ll call her tonight.”
With a nod, he’s off.
Rox comes back with our food just as he’s reaching their table, and together we watch him nervously approach the sisters. The girls look uncertain, guarded at first, but when Riley gets a few words out, their faces soften. They smile, amused, looking at their sister. Blushing, she says something in response, which eases the anxiety in Riley’s expression. Then he tosses his hair out of his face and hands the girl his phone. They exchange a few more words before he struts back to us and throws his phone on the table like a goddamn hero.
“So?” I demand. “We’re going to play
mini golf tomorrow.”
I flip my palm up for a high five. “Hell yeah.”
Rox’s lips twitch wildly, as if she’s fighting a rush of laughter. “Be careful with this one,” Rox warns Riley, hooking her thumb in my direction. “He’ll get you into all sorts of trouble.” With a wink, she dashes off again.
I grin at Riley with a strange rush of pride filling my chest. “See, I told you, kid. You got game.”
After lunch, we spend a couple hours at the arcade. Turns out I’m kind of a bastard, as far as the whole Big Brother thing goes.
“Some people,” Riley says as we’re leaving. “
Some people
might find your behavior in poor taste.”
“Can’t expect life to give you everything you want.”
It started at air hockey. Five straight games during which I utterly humiliated him. In the fourth game, it looked like he might’ve turned it around, going on a pretty good run of scoring, but then he got a bit too pleased with himself and I took him to the cleaners.
“I’m just saying.”
“Sounds like whining to me.”
“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t go to the kids’ cancer ward and do victory laps around the room after beating them at Mario Kart.”
Next, we played Skee-Ball. I don’t know if it’s his skinny little arms or lack of trapezius muscles, but I owned him at that too. If he had any cash, I’d have started putting money on those games.
“Who says I wouldn’t? What do they have to do all day but hone their skills? I’ve got a job and responsibilities.”
“That’s messed up.”
I was almost starting to feel bad for him. Even considered taking it easy on the kid. Until he started talking
all kinds of smack and challenged me to a Jurassic Park shooting game. At that point, it was an educational imperative—I had to teach the kid some manners.
“You know you’re supposed to set a good example for me, right?”
“These are important lessons. Eating shit is the first lesson of adulthood.”
“You’re terrible at this,” he informs me, rolling his eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
We’re making our way down the boardwalk to where I parked my Jeep when a familiar face appears in my line of sight. She’s exiting the smoothie place five feet ahead of us and looks over her shoulder to meet my eyes, as if she felt me coming. It always strikes me how good her skin looks under a midday sun.
“You following me now?” Dark sunglasses hide her expression, but I know in the goading tone of her voice she isn’t entirely disappointed to see me. Then her attention falls to Riley. “Oh dear. Is this man bothering you?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” I grumble. “Do I look like I drive a panel van?”
“I’m Riley,” the teen says with a shy smile.
“Genevieve, but you can call me Gen.” She nods in the direction we’d been heading, asking us to walk with her.
As we fall into step with my drop-dead gorgeous ex-girlfriend, it’s as if a switch flips in Riley. His entire demeanor changes as he tips his head toward her. “What do you like to do at the beach, Gen?”
She questions me with a look before answering. “Well, I guess I like to tan and read a book.”
“What’s your favorite day?”
“Uh … Sunday, I suppose.” Gen licks her lips, growing more skeptical as the
interrogation continues.
“What’s your favorite time of day?”
I’m here, watching this happen. Still, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Surreal.
“Sunrise. When it’s still quiet.” An amused Gen watches Riley pull out his phone and type in a quick note. “What are you writing?”
“There,” he says smugly. “I just set a reminder to pick you up for a sunrise date on the beach this weekend.”
“Wow.” She turns with an arched eyebrow, peering at me above the rim of her sunglasses. “Can I assume this was your doing?”
“They grow up so fast.”
Once again, I’m practically bursting with pride. I don’t know if Riley is a quick study or if I’m an extraordinary mentor, but I think it’s safe to say he’s conquered his confidence problem. Although the superpower persuasion of Gen’s spectacular rack might have had something to do with it. Kid’s been staring so hard I’m worried I might have to take him home cross-eyed.
“I might look young,” he tells her. “But I assure you I’m an old soul.”
“Oh my God.” Gen playfully mashes his face with her palm. “Where’d you find this kid, Evan?”
“I’m his Big Brother.”
She scoffs at me, incredulous. “No, seriously. This is Mackenzie’s little brother or something, right?”
“Really. I’m giving back to my community.”
“Huh.”
I’m not sure what to make of her response, but at least she’s not telling me to get lost again.
When we come up on Mac’s hotel, Gen pauses near the new white-and-green sign with the elegantly scrawled words
The Beacon Hotel
. Sipping her smoothie, she examines the
building. There isn’t much going on outside anymore, as far as the renovation goes. The façade is all patched up and painted. Most of the work left to do is on the inside. Decorating, installing the mirrors and fixtures, all that tedious stuff. Mac’s been getting more anal by the minute about every microscopic detail.
“I’ve always loved this place,” Gen says to no one in particular.
“Is it open yet?” Riley asks curiously.
I shake my head. “Soon. Couple months, I think.”
“The woman who owned this place would come to the stone yard sometimes,” Gen says, a faraway note in her voice. “She’d hire Dad to do seasonal landscaping. There was something so glamorous about her, even in a place like that. She’d be walking through stone dust and mulch looking like a million bucks. I used to tell my folks I was going to work here someday.”
“Mac’s hiring,” I tell her.
Gen cocks her head at me. “What, seriously?”
“Yeah. Cooper’s been giving her a hard time about needing to hurry up and pick some people, or she’ll never open.” Though I can’t see her eyes, I feel the intensity of Gen’s interest in the way she presses her lips together. “I could put in a good word, if you’re interested.”
She hesitates for a beat. Then she nods slowly. “Yeah. Yes. I’d actually really appreciate that. If it’s not too much of a thing.”
“No sweat.” Hell, I’m just happy she’s letting me do this for her, rather than making it a whole argument about fending for herself or me getting too involved in her life. “It’s done.” At that, though, it really is time I bring Riley back to the library. I was warned at least four times that tardiness is frowned upon. “Listen, we gotta go, but I’ll talk to Mac and let you know how it goes. Cool?”
“Cool. Thanks again.”
She says goodbye to Riley, and we shuffle through an awkward hug that still gets my blood rushing like I
haven’t touched a woman in months. Something about the smell of sunscreen and her flowery shampoo makes me all stupid, and I can’t walk straight. The haze lingers as we walk off in different directions.
Riley and I make it five yards away before something stops me. A nagging sense of money left on the table. This was the longest conversation Gen and I have had in weeks, and I’m just letting her leave? What the hell is wrong with me?
“Give me a sec,” I tell Riley. Then I dart off, jogging after Genevieve. “Hey. Fred. Wait up.”
She stops, turning to face me. “What’s up?”
I let out a hurried breath. “No bullshit, I took what you said seriously. I’m getting my act together.”
A groove digs into her forehead. “Is that what this Big Brothers thing is all about?”
“Sort of. I’m reformed,” I say earnestly. “And I can prove it to you.”
“How’s that?”
“I intend to court you.”
Gen bites back a laugh, looking away. “Evan.”
“I mean it. I’m going to court you. All gentlemanly and shit.”
“Is this your latest creative attempt to get me naked?”
I haven’t heard a no yet, so I take it as a good sign. “If we do this, sex is off the table. I’m going to prove to you I’ve changed. Woo you the old-fashioned way.”
“Woo me,” she echoes.
“Woo you,” I confirm.
Twisting her lips as she studies me, Gen considers my offer. Every second she’s silent, I know the idea is finding root in her brain. Because she wants me to give her an excuse, to make it okay to say yes. I know her. Better, I know
us
. There’s no world in which she can stay away from me. No more than I can tolerate distance from her. Truth is, we’ve never had any resistance
to each other, no chance of severing the immutable connection that always pulls us back together. And because I can’t lie to her, she knows when I’m sincere.
“You should know,” Gen says, “you wouldn’t be my only suitor.”
I narrow my eyes. “Baby cop?”
She chides me with a grimace. “Harrison asked me out on another date, and I said yes. You’ve got some competition.”
We have very different concepts of competition, but sure, whatever. If she needs a guy to make me jealous, either as some form of punishment or just to keep things interesting, that’s fine by me. It’ll make winning all the more satisfying. Because this guy’s already been knocked out. He just hasn’t hit the ground yet.
I flash the cocky lopsided grin that I know drives her wild. “Bring it, baby.”