“How much money I have is not indicative of my worth. If it was, then I would be the lesser individual on this porch.”
“You’re saying you’re not the lesser individual.” That I am. Of all the insults hurled at him, his worth had never been insulted. Then again, in Hollywood, worth was dollars and cents and power. Here, in this conversation, on this porch, they seemed to be talking about something else.
“Out of the two of us, only one of us is being an ass right now.”
“So you don’t want the role.”
“Not for that amount.”
He stepped back, turning away from her and taking the steps off the porch.
“Goodbye, Mr. Masten,” she called from the porch, and he turned his head to watch her, her shoulder leaning against one of the porch posts, her arms still crossed over her chest. “That’s what we say, in the South, when one person leaves. It’s called a valediction.”
“What is it called when one person makes a huge mistake?” he called out, opening the driver’s door to the Taurus.
“Easy,” she said, pushing off the post and stepping to the front door. “That’s called life.”
CHAPTER 33
I walked into a heated discussion, Mama and Ben facing off across the dining table, the topic of conversation—apparently—gay marriage. Ben was of the opinion, obviously, that it was A-Okay, and Mama… well… Mama’s from the South. If a marriage doesn’t have a penis, virginal vagina, and a preacher, it doesn’t count. I, myself, am of the opinion that two people should be able to do what they want, assuming that action doesn’t hurt anyone else. I walked to the couch and decided not to voice my opinion, should the wrath of anyone turn to me.
“Ben.” He ignored me, talking fast, his fingers counting off a list of inalienable rights.
“Ben!” This time, his head popped toward me. “That asshole is waiting for you outside.”
“Summer!” Mama chided.
“Now?” Ben asked, moving to the door. “Did you—”
“No,” I interrupted.
“Did she what?” Mama asked.
I groaned, Ben gasped at my idiocy, and from outside there was the long blare of a horn. Ben waved a goodbye and scampered for the door. I closed my eyes and felt the couch sink next to me. Opening one eye, I saw my mother, her head settling back on the couch pillow, mimicking my pose.
“Bad day?” she asked quietly after a long moment of rest.
I could only nod.
“He’s very handsome.”
“Yeah.”
There was a long stretch of silence, and I pulled at my sweaty T-shirt. It had been too hot on that porch, with both the bathing suit and shirt on.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“I was going to put that Stouffer’s lasagna in. Give it a try. Carla says it tastes homemade.”
Mama sighed. “We already out of that cabbage and sausage?”
“Yeah. Ben and I ate that for lunch.”
She didn’t say anything else for a while. I guess the idea of pre-created and frozen lasagna appealed to Mama about as much as it appealed to me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“He’s very handsome.” The repetition didn’t make the observation any less obvious.
“I know, Mama.”
We didn’t say anything else, and I drifted off to sleep there on the couch, waking once when she covered me with a blanket and a second time when the kitchen timer went off, the room smelling of cheese and meat sauce.
The lasagna ended up not being half bad. After eating, we stuck our dishes in the sink and moved out to the porch, a pint of strawberry ice cream passed between us, the porch light off to deter mosquitoes, the summer heat leaving us alone for a brief moment.
Mama went in first, kissing me on the cheek and patting my shoulder. I stayed out, my feet gently pushing against the porch, rocking the chair. It was a gamble, turning down the role that Cole Masten had offered. A hundred thousand dollars was more than I would ever have the opportunity to earn. But it wasn’t the money that had been the issue. It had been the respect. Cole Masten had no respect for me, for this town, for our way of life. I could smell it on his skin, read it on his handsome face, in the tone of his voice.
When I stood up, the ice cream pint empty in hand, I stretched, my back popping, my eyes to the north, to the Kirklands’ big, two-story home with one light on upstairs. Soon, Cole Masten would be there. Ben had gotten him a room at the Raine House for four or five nights, until the Kirklands were able to get out and let Cole in. It’d be odd to have him just a quarter-mile away. To see him come and go. For him to see my comings and goings. Not that he’d be watching.
I turned to the door and decided not to second-guess my decision any more. It was done. As we said in these parts, that egg had been laid. It couldn’t be put back in the chicken now.
CHAPTER 34
“She’s an idiot.” Cole hit the steering with his hand, then reached for the shift knob, correcting himself when he realized he wasn’t in his car. Instead, he gunned the gas, the Taurus barely changing speed.
“Careful,” Ben cautioned. “Cops are everywhere in town.”
Cole ignored him, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “An idiot,” he repeated. This was a disaster. He wondered how far out Don’s flight was. Wished for Justin for the tenth time. Justin would have had a backup plan, Don’s flight itinerary, a dinner reservation set, the wait staff already prepped for Cole’s arrival. As if on cue, his stomach growled.