How It Rolls (7 page)

             
“Where are you?”
Falcon

             
“I walked back,” I answered.

             
“Oh,” he sounded disappointed but I couldn’t imagine why.

             
“How’s Nellie, is she okay?”

             
“Um, here, I’ll let her tell you.” I heard the shifting of legs and then the phone being handed off.

             
“Reed?” Normal Nellie was definitely back.

             
“How are you,” I asked.

             
“I’m fine, except Owen knocked me up.” She laughed and I could hear the chorus of their family laugh in unison.

             
“Congratulations,” and I meant it.  Anyone could see how in love those two were.

             
“Thanks.  Ok, I’ll let you go and I will see you in a couple of days, right?”

             
“Yeah, definitely.  Congrats again!” I hung up the phone and tried to get comfortable again but couldn’t.  This sleeping in my car thing was for the freakin’ birds. 

Chapter 9

Reed

Laundromats, in general, are a conundrum to me.   There are no chairs right by the washers.  But if you’re not close, you take the chance of some skeeze trying to jack your skivvies.  And if you try to sit on the washer, they look at you like you’re molesting it.  Forget the mansion God, I just want a washing machine of my own, please.

             
I hate when I’m having a dream and my phone starts ringing in real life and then ‘Wham!’ there’s a ringing phone in my dream.  I don’t think the elves in my dream appreciated it very much at all.

             
“Hello!” I answered, eyes still closed.

             
“Hey, it’s Falcon.”

             
“Hey, is Nellie okay?” I hoped she was.

             
“Yeah, they let her go last night.  I just got up and Nellie said you’re off today.  Do you…Do you want to meet me for breakfast somewhere?”

             
I wanted to, I did and I was certainly hungry again.  But I still wore the same clothes from last night and I could use a sink and a toothbrush, pronto. 

             
“Um, how about an hour?” 

             
“Yeah, anywhere you want.” I could tell that casual dating was not his forte.  He could barely choke it out.

             
“At Theo’s, you know where that’s at?”

             
“Yeah, see you then.” I hung up and looked at the time.  It was only eight.  But when you had to beg and borrow to get ready for lunch, one hour sometimes wasn’t enough.

             
The other day I found a misplaced youth safehouse.  I registered with them and though I refused their offer to stay there, it gained me access to shower and do laundry using their facilities.  They told me it would be a couple of days before they approved me and as I made my way to it, I hoped their days and mine were the same. 

             
I walked into the building, which looked more like a warehouse with painted over cinder blocks as walls.  Some people were playing ice hockey, some people were on the computers.  I walked up to the desk, signed my name in and the lady gave me a key to the bathroom.  They even provided the soap and shampoo; that was a Godsend.  I cleaned up and changed into a jean skirt that had seen better days and a pink t shirt from my old derby team.  I threw on some flip flops that I was saving for when my other ones finally bit the dust.  I packed my stuff back up and just in time, someone else was knocking on the door for their turn. 

             
I pulled in at Theo’s a couple minutes early, his truck already in the parking lot.  I chose a cheap place on purpose, just in case I had to pay for my own meal but I doubted with a guy like Falcon that I would.  For them it was normal, but for me it was weird.  Families didn’t get along that well, did they?  Not any family that I’d ever been in.  The ones that I’d been in were nice enough to get their paychecks from the government to house me, but not nice enough to want me to stay for any length of time.  And let’s face it, some of them… I was the one who misbehaved in order to get moved. 

             
I walked in and Falcon was already seated and the waitress had her hip planted on the booth beside him and was a little overly smiley for my taste.  His hair was spiked up and despite the flirty waitress; his eyes didn’t leave the menu for one second.               

             
I slid into the booth across from him after sweeping some crumbs away with my hand. 

             
“Good morning.” He said like we were old friends.

             
“Hi.”

             
He put the menu down and squinted his eyes at me. 

             
“You gonna order something real or am I gonna have to double up again?” He smiled while he tried to sound so serious.

             
“Truth?” I sad and then began to twist my rosebud earring.

             
“Duh.”

             
“I’m a little short on cash.  I’m waiting until I get my first paycheck.  But it’s fine.  I’ve had to make money stretch before.” 

             
“You get paid Saturday.  So you’ve got two days to last.  I can help you until then.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

             
“I don’t take handouts Falcon.”

             
“Who’s giving you handouts?  I’m talking about working for it.”

             
My eyebrow bowed up at that response and he snickered. “At my mom’s restaurant, gutter brain.”

             
“A ‘will work for food’ kinda thing?”

             
“Yeah, something like that.  Until then, just let me buy you breakfast and don’t worry about it.” 

             
“Why?” It was a loaded question on my part. 

             
He exhaled and I smelled cinnamon on his breath, toothpaste.  He rearranged the silverware and moved the hot sauce and the salt around a few times before answering.

             
“I like you.  I want to spend time with you.  I want to get to know you.  You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.  I can go on.”

             
I put my fingers to my cheeks to see why they were hot.  Then it hit me.  It had been ages since anyone had made me blush, like sixth grade.  All he said was that he wanted to get to know me and my cheeks were wigging out.  What would happen when he kissed me?  Wait, was I already planning on kissing him?  Put out the wanted posters, I’d lost it.

             
“Ok.  But you first—I’m not so good at talking about me.”

             
He smiled and I swore I saw the beginnings of the same blush that took over my face earlier as he bowed his head.  There’s no way this guy didn’t want to talk about himself.  Any guy I’d ever met could go on and on about themselves until the people around them had fallen into an ego coma.

             
“What do you want to know?” As he asked, the waitress came and took our orders.  I tried to order blueberry pancakes and he had the waitress add sausage, eggs and hash-browns to it.  I rolled my eyes at him. 

             
“What’s your favorite kind of music?”

             
“That’s an easy one.  I thought you were going to ask me some kind of soul churning question.  Anything from the 80’s, anything.”

             
“Ok, that leads me to my next question, how old are you?”

             
“How old do you think I am?” I hated when people asked each other that.  You were bound to wreck somebody’s day. 

             
“By physical appearance or behavior?”
Please say looks, please say looks.

             
“Both,” He said. 

             
“Well, appearance, maybe 23 or 24.” I stopped there hoping to satisfy his question and get an answer from him on his real age.

             
The waitress appeared with our food, he took a quick bite and swallowed. “20, Go on.”

             
“From what I’ve seen of your personality, I don’t want to say.”

             
“Come on Reed, it’s nothing I haven’t heard.  Let me guess, 40?”

             
“Nah, I was gonna say 35.  Not even close. But if you’re 20 you were born in the nineties, which makes your love for 80’s music a little weird.” He huffed out a laugh.

             
“Ok, my turn.  What’s your favorite color?” He added more syrup to his pancakes.

             
“Orange, of course.” I giggled it out and then internally scolded myself for sounding like such a girl. 

             
“But you’re allergic to citrus. Nice.”  He got it.  My orange hair was my homage to how pissed off I was about being allergic to citrus.  I wasn’t too proud to admit that I’d sniffed orange juice and lemon bars on more than one occasion.

             
“Yeah, so now you.  Why do you work so much? Nellie told me the other day that you are always working.  What are you hiding from?”  Someone must’ve shot a gun because apparently my mouth took the cue and just ran and ran, like it was in a damned zombie marathon.  I hoped I didn’t hurt his feelings.

             
He shook his head and smiled down at his plate. 

             
“You pegged me.  Honestly, I work because—because I don’t know what else to do.  I’m not good at dating.  I don’t like clubs or partying.   So, I work.  I work for my family and go to school.  That’s it.  I’m a simple guy.”

             
I had a feeling that Falcon was anything but simple, in the best way.  And God help me, I wanted to know every single intricate detail in the depths of his complications. 

             
“What do you like to do other than shelving books and kicking other girls’ butts?” He pushed his plate away, now finished.

             
“My friend Farrah and I used to go to the movies, and her boyfriend is or was a skater—skateboards not roller skates, so we used to go to watch him and his friends all the time.  I haven’t talked to her in months.”

             
“Why,” He asked.  It took me off guard how sincere he always sounded contrary to the fact that Nellie swore he was a royal smart ass.

             
“I don’t have a phone and she lives in Hammond.  That’s where I used to live. “ 

             
“Reed, you have a phone.” His eyes rolled at me.

             
“That’s the phone Nellie gave me.  It’s not for calling your friends.” 

             
“Trust me, you have unlimited minutes and she won’t care.  And what are you doing after this?”  He motioned for the waitress to bring the check.  She came almost immediately and he put two twenties on the little rectangle tray.

             
“Nothing. Why?”

             
He stood up and got his keys out of his pocket.  He put his hand out to help me up from the bench seat and for the second time I felt how incredibly warm his hands were. 

             
“I’m taking you to see your friend.” He started walking, never letting go of my hand.  I was too much in shock at his proposal to let go of his hand, yeah, that was it. 

             
He’s just tugging you along because you’re so damn slow, don’t have an aneurism.

             
“What if she’s not home?  What if we can’t find her?”

             
“Come on Reed, that’s why God made phones.  Call her and quick before I drive all the way to Hammond and then we have to chase her down.”

             
He opened the passenger side of his truck to let me in and I dialed her number.  Farrah squealed so loudly that I had to move the phone from my ear.  She asked me thirty thousand questions and I tried to answer most of them but she was talking to damned fast.  I finally got her to pin down where she would be for the next hour or so, enough time for us to get there. 

             
“She’s at school.  As soon as you get to the Hammond exit I’ll direct you there.” 

             
I looked out the window.  I was so happy to get to see Farrah.  It had been entirely too long.  Once upon a time she kept me sane.  If I needed a break from whatever drama was happening at my house at that time, she would come get me and let me spend the night.  She attended Southeastern University now, I knew that much.