Lonesome Beds and Bumpy Roads (Beds #3) (14 page)

“Dad, I can’t. I have three more finals today.”

“I understand. It stinks because today is the only day for that car show and I really wanted you to see the car I drove back in high school, but I can always find another show.” His voice isn’t as peppy as when I first answered and I feel terribly guilty.

I debate skipping out on my finals. I can always reschedule them, but Dad…I can’t reschedule his life because I don’t know the end date.

“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ll take my next three finals and I’ll skip out the rest of the day. We might be able to make it.”

“Sounds good, cupcake.”

I hang up and race to my next class. Mr. Farley stands in front of the class holding the tests and my mind drifts to Ryan in the hallway. I did it again. Without even realizing, I chose Dad over Ryan. I didn’t do it on purpose. I just get so scared every time Dad’s name flashes on my screen that he’s going to tell me he’s on the way to the hospital and it doesn’t look too good.

What happens if the one time I don’t answer is the last time? I could never forgive myself. But what if choosing to answer every time makes Ryan feel like second place? Makes him resent me for ignoring him. Even if I don’t see it that way. Even if I thought he’d be the one person who’d understand.

Mr. Farley hands the tests back and I flip it open ready to get this one out of the way, but when the questions stare back at me, I go blank. Completely and totally blank.

I look at my ‘Haven’t the Foggiest’ nail polish and try to think, but it’s like someone hit the shut off switch in my brain.

I close my eyes and try to clear out all the crap bouncing around in my head. My current fight, or whatever it is, with Ryan. Dad’s impending death. Mom’s struggle with the bottle. All of it. I focus on it, then dispose of it into the trash can in my mind. I can deal with all of that later, I just need to get through these tests.

With a deep breath I open my eyes and reread the first question. Something clicks, and I sigh in relief as I go through the rest of the test. Thank God.

Three tests later, I race out of school. The security guard in the parking lot, who I never thought moved off his chair, stops me.

“Pass,” he says and I stare at him like he’s crazy.

“I don’t have one.”

“Then you can’t leave.”

“What do you mean I can’t leave? This isn’t prison. I’m not locked in a cell.”

“No, but you do have an obligation to be at the school during the allotted hours, and since you already checked in today, the school is responsible for you until the end of that time. So as I previously asked. Do you have a pass?”

“No, but my Dad called and he needs me. See he’s sick…” I say, and drift off because I’m not sure if I want to say the rest.

He scratches his balding head and lifts a lip. “I’m sorry to hear that, but you still need a pass.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t kid.”

“Apparently,” I say, accepting defeat and head back into school.

I call Dad to let him know it’s a bust, but he doesn’t answer. He’s probably sleeping. I leave a quick message letting him know I’ll stop by after school then tuck my phone back in my bag and walk to my next class.

***

What feels like a lifetime later, I’m finally walking up to Dad’s hotel room. I knock on the door and wait for him to open. Nothing. I knock again. Still nothing. What if he’s in there unconscious? My heart rate skyrockets into overdrive and I bang frantically on the door.

“Dad? Dad, are you in there? Are you okay?”

The door clicks open and Dad’s standing there in a towel, his hair wet.

“Lexie, are you okay?” he asks, his eyes frantic with concern.

“Fine. I just…” I shoot my gaze to anywhere else other than my dad’s bare chest. I have the rest of the conversation with a lovely bee hanging out by the window. “When you didn’t answer… I panicked.”

“I’m fine. I was in the shower.”

I take a deep breath and rest against the wall just outside his door. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get out of school,” I say and not because of the car show, but because what if he
had been
unconscious on the floor?

“Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t be trying to get you to cut school anyway. Not to mention your mother would probably kill me.”

“I’m here now. You hungry?”

Dad scratches the scruff on his cheek and glances back into the room then back at me. “I’m actually a little tired. I was just going to take a nap.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” My heart sinks a little. I know he’s sick and he’s tired, but doesn’t he want to spend every minute he can with me?

“Rain check?” he says.

“Of course, Dad.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and head back to my car. My phone vibrates and plays Kelly Clarkson’s newest in my pocket, and I pull it out. 

The screen flashes
Brewster’s Mom.
I answer. “Hello.”

“Hi Alexis, I was hoping you’d be able to stop by my house and give Brewster a quick walk. I got stuck at work and he’s been in the house all day.”

“No problem, I can head there now.”

“You’re a life saver. Thank you so much.”

I get back in my car and drive to my favorite client. As soon as I put the key in the door, Brewster starts barking like a crazed dog. I push the door open and get in just as Brewster tackles me to the ground, peppering me with big, sloppy doggie kisses.

“Brewster,” I say, wrestling his face away from mine. “I missed you too, buddy. Okay enough. Brewster!”

He doesn’t listen. Just keeps attacking my face. It’s probably my strawberry lip-gloss.

“Come on, boy. Before you piddle all over the floor.” I manage to get him off of me, his big floppy paws smacking the wood floor as he follows me to the kitchen. “Sit,” I say, turning with his leash.

He sits, which is a damn miracle. It took almost an entire summer for me and Ryan to teach him that command. It doesn’t always work. Up until a few months ago, I couldn’t walk Brewster without Ryan. Brewster’s just so big and floppy and doesn’t know his own size or strength. To top it off he’s the klutziest thing ever—my spirit animal.

“We’re going for a walk,” I say in my high-pitched voice I reserve for dogs and babies.

Brewster jumps, getting air and all four paws leave the ground.

“I bet you have to pee. Don’t you? Don’t you have to pee?” I squeeze his face and kiss his snout.

I open the door and Brewster drags me out the door and over to his favorite tree. He lifts a leg and does his business then goes about his sniffing route. He marks the Barker’s fence and then heads over to house 239’s mailbox and leaves them a wet present on their post.

The sun beats down. I enjoy the warmth of it and let it shine down memories of spring break. It was a rough start for me and Ryan, but in the end it turned out to be the best time of my life. We were together and finally shared the most intimate moment with one another. He was my first and even if times are a little rough, I’ve always known deep in my heart that he’ll also be my last and my only. I don’t want anyone else. It never even crossed my mind. But for the first time since he slid that quarter machine pinky ring on my finger, I have doubts.

Brewster barks, taking me out of my thoughts, and the leash tightens as he tries to charge across the street. My eyes dart to where his attention is focused. Oh crap. Squirrel! Before I can calm Brewster down and turn him around, he takes off.

My body’s yanked forward off the curb and across the street. I pull on the leash but it’s no use. Brewster must have been a strong man in a past life. I have no control over him and only hope the squirrel runs up a tree.

Of course the stupid thing doesn’t. It runs in and out of yards, Brewster in hot pursuit as I stumble along, trying to keep up.

The squirrel runs up a fence and Brewster takes a running leap.

“Brewster no!” I scream as his paws leave the ground and he yanks me forward. I lose my balance and smack and slide across the sidewalk. Gravel rips into my knee and the rest of my body follows. My boobs smack the pavement and I put my hands out to stop my head from slamming into the ground. More gravel and more rips. The leash breaks free from my hold and Brewster takes off.

“Ouch, ouch, ouchie.” I try to stand, but the pain shoots through me and I fall to the sidewalk. Tears build in my eyes and I try not to cry, really I do, but the tears fall down my cheeks. Just as I’m about to get up and find my no longer favorite client, he saunters over and licks my tears away.

“Okay fine. You’re still my favorite,” I say, hugging his head to my chest.

We have an uneventful walk back to the house. I kiss Brewster goodbye, leave him with a treat and lock up the house. I limp into my car and start heading home. I really need to clean myself up. My stomach growls, and I realize I haven’t eaten anything. I make a quick stop at Skippy Lee’s to grab a burger, hoping to God no one notices the blood dripping down my legs or the lovely blood, dirt mix on my palms.

I step out of the car and my heart falls out of my chest and splatters across the entrance. My dad is at a table with some overly made-up brunette who has more cleavage than a plumber’s crack. Seriously those things look like they’re going to punch Dad in the face.

I think of what Ryan said about seeing him out at the movies. I still stand by what I said. He’s sick and he’s not dead yet. He’s allowed to have a social life. But what is not all right is lying to me. I debate walking away and just letting it go, but I can’t.

I storm over to the table and slam my hand down, making Boobs McGee fling back in her chair.

“Tired my ass,” I say.

“Hey, munchkin. What are you doing here?”

I ignore his question. “I thought you were tired. I thought you were going to take a nap.”

“I was. I mean I did. But I was restless and couldn’t sleep and Tammy stopped by to see how I was…”

“You could have called me. You said rain check didn’t you?” I think of all the times I cancelled on Ryan because Dad needed me. Think of all the plans I rearranged so I could spend every minute I could with him, because he kept reminding me how little time he had left. Yet the one time he cancelled on me to “nap” he never thought to make that time up.

“Tammy was—”

I hold my hand up and give Tammy a glare. She pops her gum and I want to pop her. “You know what…?” I stop myself before I say something I’m going to regret and take off.

I can’t pull out of the parking lot fast enough. I watch my rearview mirror for the entrance of Skippy Lee’s, waiting for Dad to run out after me. He never does.

I accelerate onto the highway. Am I overreacting? He could’ve called me, but Tammy went to him. Maybe he didn’t want me to meet someone he was just seeing. But then I think again of all the times I bent over backward to spend time with him and the anger swells inside of me. I swerve in and out of traffic until there are no cars in front of me. I slam on the gas to get as far away from my father as I can.

Red and blue lights fill my car, and I glance in my rearview mirror just as a cop car rides up my ass.

I put my signal on and ease off to the shoulder of the highway. I throw my hands in the air and try to force back the tears that are trying to push forward. The officer knocks on the window and I roll it down. He’s tall and intimidating.

“License and registration,” he says.

“One second,” I say and rustle through my bag. I think it’s in my bag. Or is it in my glove box. I don’t remember. I pull out my wallet and flip it open.

“Any day now.”

“I’m sorry I can’t find it,” I mumble.

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t find it,” I mumble again and throw my head back on the seat for a second then dive back in my bag.

“What’s with the attitude?”

I turn to the officer and try not to let the shock show on my face. “I don’t have an attitude.”

“Then why did you throw your hands up when I pulled you over.”

“Because you pulled me over.” Did I really need to explain this? Can he genuinely say that people are happy to see him when those lights flash?

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

Yes, but I would never admit it. “No officer. I have no idea.”

“You were going fifteen miles over the speed limit.”

“Was I really? I had a rough day. My mind was…” I stop myself. Can I really tell a cop my mind wasn’t on the road? Tears prick my eyes and I try not to cry. “It’s just been a bad day.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I can’t afford a ticket. I’m broke. The only money I have is to go away to college with. But now I don’t even know if I can do that because my dad’s back and he’s dying. He’s lying too. Ditching me to go out on a date when I keep breaking plans with my boyfriend to spend more time with him. You would think that would mean something. That…I don’t know…he’d break plans to hang out with me too. But noooo. He’d rather hang out with Boobs McGee.” I sniffle and the cop looks at me like I lost my freaking mind and I think I have.