Magic Hands (18 page)

Lily nodded. “I imagine so. There are so many wonderful things about her. No wonder she’s sought after.”

“I’l bet you were like that, Lily.”

She blushed. “Oh, wel . Maybe I was.”

He liked that she used Rachel’s word. “You know you were.”

“A girl can never appear vain.”

“So did you go to al the dances?”

“Of course. I used to dance al night.”

“Cool.”

“We did the Lindy, the swing, the waltz, and I even taught Henry how to polka.” Lily sighed. “We were quite the pair.”

Another tug gripped Cort’s heart, another knot lodged in his throat. He wanted to do something but felt inadequate.

His exposure to the elderly had been minimal, his own grandparents living across the country.

“Cort.”

He looked from Lily to where Rachel now stood, ready to leave. He patted Lily’s hand before he rose. “See you next time. I want to hear more about your dancing.”

She cupped his hand in hers. “Very good. Goodbye.”

He glanced across the room at Priscil a stil staring out the window. Then he said goodbye to the others, promising to return.

Cort and Rachel walked through the quiet hal together, neither looking into the doors opened into rooms. Cort didn’t think he could look and see who was inside. There were so many doors.

“You okay?” Rachel asked.

He pushed open the front door, held it for her. “Sure.”

Somewhere a spring burn fire scented the air. The sun held in the sky a little longer these days, its red arms reaching out from behind the low westerly mountains as if to grasp for notice as long as it could.

Cort was glad there was a little sun left, something to help with the gloom he felt. He opened the car door for Rachel. Again it amazed him that she’d take the time out of a harried schedule to do something for complete strangers. But then they weren’t strangers to her anymore—she’d made them her friends.

He needed to kiss her.

She looked up, her dark hair scattered across her shoulders, blue eyes the color of the blackening sky. The pale nakedness of her lips sent a fast thrum through his veins.

He leaned in the door, taking every second to let his eyes enjoy her face, the way it changed as his neared. Then he kissed her.

Her lips were warm, parted just enough for his mouth to fit over hers perfectly. The kiss didn’t need to be long or smothering. He felt a surge of something so deep, nothing but a kiss would express what was inside.

Easing back, he smiled. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

He closed the door and went around the car, taking another look at Countryside.

After school, Cort waited for Lizzie in his car. He was supposed to be at Miss Chachi’s in fifteen minutes. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he glanced around the parking lot for Rachel’s black BMW but didn’t see it as cars streamed by.

A tapping at his window took his face to Bree’s, peering at him through the glass. She signaled for him to rol down the window.

“Hey. My car’s busted. Can I get a ride?”

He wondered where her cavalry of friends was. He knew tons of guys who’d do whatever to give her a ride. “Uh,”

purposeful y he hesitated. “I’m late for work.”

“Please,” she whined, flipping her striped locks over her shoulder. “Please, Cortie.”

He caught Lizzie jogging down the aisle. “I guess.”

Bree got in first, then held the seat forward so Lizzie could climb into the back. Lizzie scowled at her as she climbed in.

Bree settled. “Great car. When did you get this one?”

“A long time ago.” Cort’s voice showed the disinterest he had in any conversation with her.

“Why is she riding home with us?” Lizzie asked point blank.

Bree pul ed down the mirror in the passenger visor and looked at herself. “My car died.”

Lizzie snorted. “So why not ask one of your real friends?”

“I did.” Bree shot her a narrow-eyed look. “That’s why I’m here. Cort and I would do anything for each other.”

Lizzie sat back on a hacked-out laugh. “Whatever.”

Bree faced Lizzie. “How’s it going with Todd?”

“I don’t even know Todd.”

“Wasn’t that him I saw you with in Kissing Corner? He looked like the one that was touching you—”

“Okay, shut up right now,” Cort said.

“I’m just saying I saw her in Kissing Corner with some guy, Cort. I swear. Two days ago.”

“And we gave you a ride because?” Lizzie almost shouted.

Cort swung the car around a corner and onto Bree’s street, jamming up the twenty-five mile an hour zone at fifty.

Bree clung to the seat.

He slammed the car to a stop in front of the clapboard siding home that was hers. Then he snapped over her lap and flung the door open. “Get out.”

“Easy,” Bree said. “Ask your sister. It’s true. They were al over each other.” She got out, smiled and waved. “Bye.” She’d barely shut the door when Cort peeled away from the curb.

Cort pinned Lizzie with a glare through the rear view mirror and Lizzie shrunk against the back seat. “Tel me she was lying.”

“Um. She was lying?”

“You were in Kissing Corner with Todd?”

“That part was a lie,” Lizzie admitted. “It wasn’t Todd. I don’t even know Todd.”

“Who? Tel me, Lizzie. I’l find out anyway.”

“Hudson Blair.”

Cort slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know what a—I – I—”

Words stammered out. “Lizzie, he’s like—the worst. He was on the team with me, and that guy’s not even human with girls.”

Lizzie’s lips curved up. “I’d have to disagree.”

Cort whipped around and lunged. The only way he could ease frustration was to beat some sense into her head. But he stopped, slumping over the back seat instead. “Lizzie, he’s a jerk. He uses girls like toilet paper. Did anything happen?”

“We just met. Nothing’s happened—yet. And if it did you’d be the last person I’d tel . Get over it. I’m fifteen.”

“You’re a baby.” He started the car again, glaring at her through the mirror. “You’re not talking to him.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“
Yes,
I am.”

“Then I’m tel ing Mom.”

Lizzie fel against the bench with a grumble. “You can’t.

Come on, Cort. You’ve liked girls who are bad for you, haven’t you? What about Bree? I seem to remember when you thought life was over if she didn’t like you.”

“I’ve learned a lot since then. People like that are poison.”

“That’s why you gave her a ride home?”

“I gave her a ride home because it was rude not to.”

“And I talked to Hudson because it was rude not to.”

“You were in Kissing Corner! People don’t go there to do research.”

“You hypocrite! I’ve heard about you in Kissing Corner.”

His anger gave way to shock. “You have?”

“Girls have to take numbers.”

“That is such crap.”

“And you’re getting al over me because I’m going to prom with Hudson Blair.”

Cort whirled around and the car swerved. “Prom? You are not—no way are you going to senior prom with Hudson Blair. I’l tel Mom what a—”

“Please, Cort, please.” She lunged forward. “You can’t tel Mom. He’s so hot. Do you realize what this would do for my image?”

Cort’s glare silenced her, sent her back against the seat with a curse under her breath. He knew exactly what this would do to her image. No way would he let a dog like Hudson Blair within two feet of Lizzie if he had to lock her in her bedroom prom night himself. “I’m tel ing mom,” he final y said.

Lizzie let out a loud, angry sigh. “I’m going whether you or her like it or not.” Lizzie folded her arms across her chest.

“No one can stop me.”

Cort looked at her through the mirror with his lips pinched.
Just watch me.

Cort dropped Lizzie off and promised he’d tel Mom when he got home from work, since he was late and she wasn’t even home yet. Then he jammed to Miss Chachi’s, his cel phone in one hand as he drove.

Two people were being retards about prom – Lizzie and Ben. And he knew just how to fix their problem.

“Ben?”

“Dude.”

“You asked anybody to prom yet?”

“Not yet. Was gonna soon.”

“You’re not gonna ask Bree, are you?”

“I am.”

“Dude, you can’t. She’s a loser.”

“Beg to differ with you, man. She’s total y hot and just because you’ve been there, done that, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t go there, do that.”

“I haven’t been anywhere or done anything with Bree.”

Thankful y, Cort thought now. “You’ve gotta take Lizzie.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah. Come on, dude. She’s—” Cort couldn’t bring himself to say his sister was hot, that was just plain sick. “She wants to go.”

“But…she’s your sister.”

“I know, I know. You guys are cool, right? You know each other. It’l be fun. She likes you, she told me.” A long time ago, Cort thought. But if he could get Lizzie’s mind off Hudson, and onto one of his friends he knew and trusted things would be okay.

“She’s fifteen.”

“And you’re seventeen.”

“She’s your
sister
.”

“Come on, you know you want to.”

“I want Bree, dude. Bree wil … things wil happen with her you don’t want happening with Lizzie.”

Cort gripped the phone until his knuckles whitened. His plan was dying and he was holding onto nothing. He pul ed into the parking slot in front of Miss Chachi’s.

Cort saw Miss Chachi waving at him from the front window to come inside. “I gotta get to work.” He got out, locked the car. “Think before you ask Bree, man.”

It was obvious to Cort that Ben could care less about survival; the guy was in it for the moment.

“You late!” Miss Chachi escorted him to his table and pushed him into his chair. He would have laughed had he not been distracted with the prom problem. If Ben took Bree, that meant Bree would be in their group and that would be the worst.

“You have two customers waiting.”

Cort glanced up front where Maria de Silva sat in the waiting area. He waved her over, and looked at the older woman sitting next to her watching him.
She must be my new client
. He smiled briefly just to be friendly. She didn’t smile back.

“Hey, Maria. What’s up?”

Maria sat, extended her hands. “Not much.”

“Get asked to prom yet?”

“Todd Doyle asked me.”

Cort took her hands, rubbed over her nail beds with his fingers. “Oh, yeah? Is that good or bad?”

“Good. I’ve only been giving him signals for about five months now.”

Cort picked up his cordless nail file. “Guys can be dense.”

“I think he likes Rachel. Aren’t you taking her?”

He looked up, nodded. “They’re friends.”

“Yeah, but he looks at her the way I look at him.”

Cort clicked off his filer. “How’s that?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

Maria blushed. Then she leaned close. “Al dreamy-eyed and stuff.”

“Huh.” Cort started filing again. He’d never given it a name but as he thought about looking at Rachel, the way her eyes lit and changed when she looked at him. Was that the way he looked at her? Maybe Rachel looked that way at every guy. “So,” he started. “Todd asked you, right?”

Maria nodded. “I’d have to be pretty desperate to ask a guy to prom. I mean, it is a boy’s choice dance.”

“I know.” What he real y wanted to know was had Maria seen Rachel looking at Todd that way lately. “You think he likes you? Todd?”

“Probably not. But, hey, I get an evening to try and convince him of what he’s missing, right?”

“Right.”

She leaned close. “So how do I do that?”

Cort stopped filing for a second, unsure of what to tel her. Truth was, if the guy wasn’t interested, an atomic bomb wouldn’t bring her to his attention.

“You seem to know if a guy is interested. If he’s giving you signs, then be friendly and stuff. Go with the signs.”

“Hmm.”

“If a guy likes a girl, he lets her know,” he continued.

“Unless he knows she’s not interested, and he’s just taking whatever she gives him to stay friends.”

“I think that’s what Todd’s doing with Rachel. She seems to have a lot of guys that like her.”

Cort didn’t like the idea of that. “Yeah.” They talked about what Todd had planned for the evening, and for the day date: A trip up the canyon to play at Sundance fol owed by lunch in the Gril room. The boys were renting a Hummer limousine for the dance. Cort tried not to think about the guys who’d be at the dance wishing they were with his date.

Suckers.

He smiled.

The woman walked over after Maria left. She stood at his table, looking at his work area, then around the salon with an inquisitive eye.

“Are you Cort?” she asked, extending her hand.

He shook it. “I am.”

“Bonnie Britain.” She sat across from him. She looked about his mother’s age, he thought. Wore a dark suit like his mother did. Her hair was pul ed straight back. She kept a pleasant, half-smile on her face.

“I’ve heard you’re the man to see for nails in Pleasant View.” She extended her hands and he looked at perfectly done nails.

“Those look great. Did you just get them done?”

“I want another color,” she told him with a little smile.

“OPI’s Rootbeer Float wil work.”

“Uh, okay.” He stood and went to where Miss Chachi displayed her polishes, took the glazed brown shade and sat back down. He grabbed a cotton bal .

“You like doing nails?” she asked.

He rubbed the acetone-soaked bal over her nails, removing the red color. “Yeah. It’s fun. It’s been pretty interesting too.”

“I’l bet—the only man working with al of these women.

I’ve heard you bring in a lot of business.”

He shrugged, felt his cheeks warm. “I guess.”

“How long have you been working here?”

“Since it opened three months ago.”

“Looks like a nice place.”

He glanced up and caught her scanning the place.