High-Caliber Concealer (23 page)

“If we were in the matrix then your mom
being supportive and fine would be a dead giveaway, wouldn’t
it?”

“Twilight
Zone
?”

“Maybe. Why,,,,, what happened?”

“So I stopped by the orchard on my way here,
to tell Grandma that Mom wanted to use the car and I happened to
look in the window of the job trailer and…”

“And what?”

“I saw Grandma making out with Jorge, her
foreman.”

Z’ev grinned. “Yeah, he’s her foreman.”

“It’s not funny! I may be scarred for
life.”

“Well, at least now you know what they were
arguing about last night.”

Nikki shrugged. “I can’t believe they were
arguing about that. So Grandma has a boyfriend. Why is that a big
thing? You know, as long as I don’t have to see it.”

“Different generations think different stuff
is a big deal,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, the question is, do I tell them I
know, or do I wait for them to tell me?”

“Wait,” said Z’ev firmly. “Do you really
want to get into a discussion of how you know?”

“Excellent point,” said Nikki.

“Are you sure you want to eat here?” asked
Z’ev, wiping off his menu with the corner of a napkin.

“Yeah, the food’s fantastic. I just try not
to touch anything. After lunch, I think we should check you out of
the hotel.”

“Your grandma changed her mind?” he asked,
raising an eyebrow.

“Mom said she’d talk to Grandma,” replied
Nikki.

“Hmm,” said Z’ev.

“Hmm, what?”

“Well, you know your family best. I don’t
want to cause an argument. Plus, last night you weren’t exactly
demanding that I stay with you.”

“I told you, I froze,” said Nikki.

“Nikki,” he said.

Nikki felt the butterfly of panic start to
flap in the pit of her stomach. He was going to say something
serious. She couldn’t do serious. Not in front of Clyde and Han
Solo.

“Nothing. Let’s just eat lunch.”

Nikki wanted to argue, but she knew it
wasn’t in her best interest. They had been skating along the
surface of their relationship for too long. There were cracks in
the ice, but they just kept skating. Sooner or later the ice was
going to break and that was going to be a bad day for everyone.

Returning to the farm, they parked next to
Jackson’s F-150. She could see Jackson out in the paddock, cleaning
up Donna’s area and fixing the hay bales to the goat’s
specifications. “Oh, shoot. He’s making me look bad. I was going to
do that later this afternoon.”

“Your ex-boyfriend sure hangs around a lot,”
said Z’ev.

Nikki shrugged. “He and Grandma always got
along. I think it’s nice that he helps her. I wonder if he knows
about Jorge?”

“Seems like something he would have told
you, doesn’t it?” Z’ev climbed out of the truck and pulled his
single bag out of the truck bed.

Nikki shrugged again. “Jackson is not known
to be verbose.”

Z’ev laughed. “Did he sign up for the Louis
L’Amour school of How to Be a Cowboy, or what?”

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with the Louis
L’Amour school,” said Nikki, feeling annoyed. “The world could use
a few more straight-shooting white hats in it.”

“White hats get dirty,” said Z’ev.

“Stop being metaphorical,” snapped Nikki,
knowing she sounded like her mother and hating it.

“I wasn’t actually. White hats collect dirt
and sweat too easily.”

Nikki showed Z’ev to her room and went back
downstairs while he unpacked. She was still annoyed about his crack
about Jackson. Still annoyed about everything, actually.

She grabbed a few sodas from the fridge and
walked out to the paddock, then climbed up onto the fence rail and
sat, watching Jackson. He had his shirt off and was rambling around
in his jeans, cowboy hat and work gloves. He’d worked up a sweat
and Nikki had to admire the sharp v-shape of his lat muscles as he
hefted a bale of hay from the truck. He ignored her, reaching into
his pocket and flicking his pocketknife open with a quick snap of
the wrist. It made a sharp clicking noise and Nikki suspected that
in a pinch it would be faster than a switchblade. He slit the twine
on a bay of hale and reached for a pitchfork.

“I was going to get to it later today,” she
said. “I told you, you didn’t have to help.”

“And I told you that I didn’t mind helping.
Besides, you were gonna be out here in your snappy clothes and
shovel the horse shit?”

“I was gonna change. I do have other
clothes.”

“I believe that you have lots of clothes,”
he commented with a half twitch of a smile.

“I brought you a soda pop,” she said,
holding up two cans still on their plastic leash. “But if you’re
going to insult my clothes I don’t think I’ll give it to you after
all.” He leaned the fork against the barn and walked over.

“I love your clothes,” he said, putting one
foot on the bottom rail and leaning his elbows on the top, facing
Nikki. “I wouldn’t dream of insulting them.” His face was perfectly
serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Nikki laughed and
handed him a can, keeping the other for herself.

He smelled like hay and Nikki let her gaze
run down the length of his torso. He had a scar that ran from his
ribs to his back. It was wide and had the slightly shiny, stretched
look of a cut that hadn’t been sewn up properly.

“What’d you do?” she asked pointing at the
ugly scar.

He glanced down at himself as if he’d
forgotten there was something there.

“Got tagged by a bull,” he said, popping
open his soda. “Ugly son of a bitch snagged me in between the tabs
on my vest and dug right in. Threw me like a slingshot. I’ve got it
on my highlight tape if you want to see it.” Nikki climbed up on
the fence to sit on the top rail.

Nikki laughed and opened the other soda. “I
think I would actually. That sounds worth seeing.” Jackson
shrugged. “What about that one?” she asked pointing to the scar on
his face.

He shrugged again. “Who can remember
anymore?” He turned around to lean his elbows on the fence and
stare out into the orchard. “So, you’ve got this big fella with
you.”

“Z’ev,” said Nikki. “His name is Z’ev.”

“Yeah,” he said and Nikki couldn’t tell if
he was agreeing or if there was some sort of subtext that she was
supposed to be picking up on. “He seems pretty stuck on you.”

“I’m pretty stuck on him.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Yeah, but, what?”

Jackson turned around again, a sudden return
to his old restless self.

“But he doesn’t know, does he?”

“Doesn’t know what?” asked Nikki, feeling
her fingertips go icy on the soda can and her palms clammy.

“He doesn’t really know you. He doesn’t know
about things like bar fights and how you keep yourself out of
‘trouble.’ Does he?”

“He suspects,” said Nikki quietly.

“And that’s got you worried.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You don’t want to leave, but you’re afraid
you can’t stay.”

“Yes,” she whispered again. She stared out
past the barn, past the orchard and into the purple smudge of
mountains. Jackson finished the can in one long drink and emptied
out the last dribble into the hay before crushing the can between
his hands. Behind her, she heard the screen door slam.

“He’s coming our way,” Jackson said. Nikki
didn’t look around, trying to compose her face into something
presentable. Jackson swung around, heading for his hay bale.

“When the time comes, if you need a place to
go,” he said, looking back at her, “my door is always open.”

“Thought I’d come and see if I could help,”
said Z’ev arriving and raising his voice to carry across to
Jackson.

“No need,” said Jackson, waving his hand.
“I’m about done for the day.” He finished scattering the hay and
shouldered his pitchfork, carrying it into the barn.

Z’ev glanced up at Nikki and she looked
back, seeing the sweetness in his face that he was so careful to
hide most of the time.

“What’s the matter?” he asked frowning and
searching her face.

“Nothing,” she answered. His eyes jumped to
Jackson suspiciously and Nikki pulled herself together. She leaned
down and kissed him. “Come on,” she said jumping off the fence.
“I’ll show you the barn and you can meet Donna and Fidget the
Goat.”

They were on their way back to the
house—being head butted by Fidget could only hold someone’s
interest for so long—when they heard Nell and Peg arguing.

“I didn’t hear the car pull in,” said
Nikki.

“She’s got to be told,” said Peg.

“And I totally disagree,” said Nell. Nikki
could hear her feet on the wooden porch steps. She glanced at Z’ev
who winked. Nikki smothered a laugh behind her hand.

“Don’t you walk away from me, young lady,”
said Peg, hurrying after her if the quick shuffle Nikki heard was
any indication.

“They really have their panties in a twist
over this Jorge situation,” said Z’ev.

“I know,” said Nikki. “I feel bad. Maybe I
should tell them that I know.”

“You keep claiming that your mom has been a
constant thorn in your side, and you’re going to pass up the
opportunity to let her suffer a little bit?” Z’ev sighed mockingly
and hugged her. “You’re too soft-hearted.”

“I just like making you think that,” said
Nikki, only half-joking.

By the time they’d followed Nell and Peg
into the house, the argument had either simmered down or been
silenced by Nikki’s Carrie Mae teammates, who were chattering and
clearly dressed for a party. Jane was wearing a sleeveless 1970s
polyester dress in a nude beige that, on her very pale skin, looked
fantastic.

“Nikki, what do you think of this dress?”
demanded Jenny upon their entry. “Jane, do a twirl for Nikki. I
think tans like that always make a person look naked from a
distance, but Ellen thinks it looks good.”

“I think you’re both right,” said Nikki. “I
think Jane looks great in that dress and from a distance someone
will probably think she’s naked.”

Jane smirked at Jenny. “Is it appropriate
for the party with Donny’s family? I don’t want to be overdressed
for a family BBQ. And you know, I’m trying to wear less black.”

“Ah, well, see here’s the thing about the
Fernandez BBQ’s,” said Nikki. “Donny has a very extensive family.
And they all have a rather inclusive idea about what constitutes
family. And their property is next to a junkyard and the river, so
there’s a lot of space. So when they say it’s a family BBQ, what
the really mean, is that half the town will be there and the other
half will be calling the cops with a noise complaint.”

“So am I over or underdressed?” asked Jane
frowning.

“Perfectly dressed,” said Nikki.

“OK, whew. I didn’t want to have to wear any
of my own clothes.”

“God forbid,” said Ellen. “Nikki, that’s not
what you’re wearing, is it? She gave Nikki’s shorts and T-shirt a
disapproving frown.

“No, I’m going to change.”

“Should I change? You guys make me fashion
paranoid.” Z’ev glanced at his jeans and T-shirt in the mirror
nervously.

“No, you’re fine,” laughed Nikki. “I’ll just
be a minute.”

But it was several minutes later and Z’ev
had gone to change his shirt by the time they all climbed into
Peg’s SUV for the trip to the Fernandez house. Jane was carrying a
pie because Peg didn’t feel comfortable sending them to a BBQ
without something to contribute.

The road followed the meandering curve of
the Columbia and as Nikki drove, her mood alternated between fond
reminiscence and annoyed surprise at each change in the landscape
that she spotted. Everything seemed to be changing. More
development, more houses, more people everywhere she looked. One
thing had not changed however, the fat Studebaker standing on its
trunk, the front wheels, or what was left of them reaching skyward
to mark the entrance to the junkyard. When Nikki saw that, she knew
it was time to turn at the next driveway. The Studebaker was more
rusted than ever and she could see a bird’s nest now resided in the
driver’s side wheel well, but it still stood, right where Crazy
Cooter Johnson had planted it. The long gravel driveway led through
a field studded with similarly planted cars, sticking up through
the long grass, some tilted at drunken angles.

“What’s with the cars?” demanded Ellen
staring out the window.

“That’s Crazy Cooter’s Junkyard,” said Nikki
turning into the Fernandez driveway. “He calls them modern art. If
you go further down he’s got a regular junkyard operation, but he
says it would be rude to have such ugliness next to the road where
everyone can see it. So he puts the cars out for people to look at.
Jackson, Donny, and I used to play out there all the time.”

“That sounds totally unsafe,” said Ellen.
“What if a car fell on you?”

“Umm, I don’t know,” said Nikki, who was
surprised that she had never considered that. “He’s got them pretty
well anchored. We used to climb on them all the time. They never
seemed tippy.”

“We used to ride on top of the ATV when
Grandpa would load it in the back of the truck,” said Jenny. “It’s
funny the things you did as a kid that sort of horrify us now.”

“Lawn darts,” said Z’ev. “Tiny metal
javelins for kids to throw at each other. What could go wrong with
that?”

Nikki parked the SUV next to a low-rider El
Camino, last in a string of cars that lined the long gravel drive
down to a brown house hidden behind some aspen trees. “I forgot we
were going to see Mexicans. I should have driven the Impala.”

“Nikki!” protested Jane, but only
halfheartedly as they began to walk toward the house.

“What? How is that racist?”

“It’s stereotyping,” said Jane. “Mexicans do
not all like cars.”

“I’m glad that we have our own personal PC
police,” said Nikki. “It makes us unique.”