Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (13 page)

Right now, those eyes were spitting fire. She threw her pom-poms on the ground, grabbed her backpack out of Lance Stringfellow’s shiny, red Toyota Tundra, and slammed the door.

Stringfellow said something Tom couldn’t make out and then peeled out of the parking lot. Kaitlin picked up her pom-poms and walked toward the school with her head down. Halfway through the lot, she looked up.

Tears as fat as raindrops rolled down her cheeks.

Tom’s fists bunched at his sides. Stringfellow was an asshole. But it wasn’t any of Tom’s business because Kaitlin barely remembered he was alive. He threw his backpack into the bed of his own, battered blue Dodge pickup and opened the driver’s-side door.

“Hey.”

He glanced up as Kaitlin waved a pom-pom and walked his way.

Tom looked over his left shoulder. Was she talking to him?

Kaitlin giggled. It sounded like wind chimes jingling in the breeze.

“Tom.” She smiled, and a row of perfect, white teeth showed through plump, shiny lips the color of bubble gum. “Can you give me a ride home?”

“Sure.” His Adam’s apple turned the size of a grapefruit, and his palms started to sweat. The last time she’d spoken to him was exactly forty-three days ago when she’d wanted to borrow his calculus notes. Tom wiped his palms on his Levis and walked around to open the door for her.

“Thanks.” Kaitlin tossed her pom-poms on the bench seat.

Tom lifted her backpack off her shoulder and gently placed it in the bed. After closing her door, he walked around to the driver’s side. Please, God, let the truck start. He hoisted himself behind the wheel and turned the key. The engine came to life. The Almighty must be smiling on him today.

“Where to?” Tom asked like he didn’t know where she lived. So what if he found excuses to drive by at least once a day.

“I live off Highway 80. Down the street from the Dairy Queen.” Kaitlin buckled her seatbelt.

Tom buckled his and pulled out of the parking lot. As he headed toward Dairy Queen, he glanced at Kaitlin. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks like dried creek beds. Tom turned back to driving.

“What happened?” Tom didn’t exactly want to know, but she was upset, so it might help to talk it out.

“Nothing.” Kaitlin stared straight ahead.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I don’t get boys. You say one thing and do another.” Kaitlin shook her head.

Tom laughed and relaxed. “We’re easy. You girls are the mystery. You’re always one step ahead of us.”

Kaitlin looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

She touched his leg and turned her body so that her back was against the door and watched him.

Sweat popped out on his upper lip, and his underarms seemed to have sprung a river. After a couple of minutes, he couldn’t stand it. “What?”

“Do you think you could help me?” She moved her hand away.

His jeans burned where she’d touched.

“What do you need?” Tom’s voice was an octave higher than normal, so he cleared his throat. “What do you need?”

“Maybe you could help me figure out what Lance means. You know, be my interpreter.” Kaitlin smiled hopefully.

Tom stared straight ahead. This was all about Lance, of course. Kaitlin and Lance were a couple. What had Betts said? Lance was a roadblock and to find a way around him. This would be a way to spend time with Kaitlin.

“What did he say?” It was all Tom could do to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“I found out that he hooked up with Jenny Bradshaw two weeks ago—”

“Hooked up? Hooked up how?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out this wasn’t going to end well.

Kaitlin shrugged her shoulders. “You know. They did it.”

“He had sex with Jenny?” Tom didn’t look at her.

Had Kaitlin done it with Lance? Tom gripped the wheel so tight the stitching bit into his palms. Duh…of course Kaitlin and Lance had gone all the way.

“Yep.” Kaitlin sounded matter-of-fact as she watched the passing pine trees.

“How do you feel about that?” Not that Tom really wanted to know. He couldn’t get the image of her and Lance naked and rolling around out of his head.

“I hate it.” She sniffled. “He lied to me. He told me he was out of town.” Kaitlin sounded hurt. Why wasn’t she pissed? Christ, he was pissed on principle.

“Why are you still with him? He cheated on you. You deserve better.” Tom gritted his teeth. He would never dishonor her. She was precious, wonderful, special.

Kaitlin shook her head. “We were supposed to be exclusive—”

“Exactly. Why are you still with him?” Tom tried not to sound frustrated.

“There’s no one else. Everyone who’s anyone is taken.” Kaitlin chewed on her left thumbnail.

What about me?
It was on the tip of his tongue. Tom looked over at her. She was genuinely upset and believed that all the good boys were off the market. Shaking his head, he turned back to the road. She had no idea she’d hurt him, because Kaitlin was that self-absorbed. Suddenly her eyes weren’t so blue, and her blonde hair didn’t shine in the sunlight.

“Lance and I have been together since freshman year. I know what to expect. What else am I supposed to do? Go by myself to the homecoming dance week after next?” Kaitlin rolled her eyes.

Tom sucked on the inside of his cheek and let the anger roll off. He turned onto her street, and several silent minutes passed before he pulled up to her house.

Kaitlin grabbed her pom-poms.

Tom jumped out, walked around, and opened her door. “Staying with someone who makes a fool out of you is selling yourself short.” He picked up her backpack and handed it to her. “You’re too smart to put up with that. At least, I thought you were. Guess I was wrong.”

Kaitlin’s mouth dropped open. She stood there with her pom-poms in one hand and the backpack dangling from the other. Tom climbed back in his truck, slammed the door, and didn’t look back. Years wasted on wanting her. Kaitlin was a wall he was through banging his head against. She would never notice him, and he was tired of hoping she would.

***

Kaitlin stood in her front yard until she could no longer see Tom’s truck.

How dare he talk to her that way? She was the head cheerleader, on the homecoming court, and Junior Miss Harrison County. Nobody had ever talked to her that way. She slung her backpack over her arm and stomped into the house.

“Kaitlin, is that you?” Her mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Who else would it be? Kaitlin wanted to shout, but shouting wasn’t done in the Smith household. Everyone smiled. No one raised their voices. Life was perfect. Kaitlin threw her backpack down in front of the china cabinet that held all of her beauty pageant crowns, ribbons, and trophies.

“I’m in here. I have your smoothie ready. Strawberries and whey powder just like you like.”

Kaitlin walked into the kitchen. She hated smoothies. Cookies or a slice of pizza would have been a fantastic snack, but both were fattening. Gaining an ounce was disastrous, in her mother’s mind.

Kaitlin glanced at her mother, who was sitting at the table reading the latest
Cosmo
. Marva Ann Smith—like her personal champion Martha Stewart—had elevated domestic duties to an art form. Everything she did was absolutely perfect, because less was failure, and failure wasn’t tolerated.

Kaitlin picked up the smoothie and stalked to her bedroom. After setting the glass on her nightstand, she picked up her favorite Hello Kitty pillow and lay across the bed, stuffing the pillow under her chin.

Tom thought she was smart. She pressed her lips together. No one thought she was smart. Pretty, yes…intelligent, no. When she voiced her opinion, people nodded and patted her head, but Tom thought she was smart. And he was the smartest guy in school.

Did he have a girlfriend?

He’d always been willing to help her in math or science, but Kaitlin had never really paid that much attention to him. She traced the red rose pattern of her comforter. How come she’d never noticed how well he filled out a tee shirt? Or how his jeans molded to his muscular thighs? Something warm raced around her belly and settled in her middle. Was Tom going to the game tonight?

Betts closed her laptop and pinched the bridge of her nose. Spending an hour arguing over cover art for her next album and hammering out the details for the release of her new single,
City Girl
, hadn’t done a damn thing to get Gabe off her mind.

She was playing with fire. There were no two ways about it. The man didn’t like her, didn’t want her, and sure as hell didn’t love her, so why had she wrapped herself around him like a blanket on a cold night? It made no sense. Betts didn’t sleep around. She wasn’t impulsive, especially with men. There were diseases and complications and indiscretions that would end up on the front page of the tabloids. If it was just about sex, Mama’s Dildo of the Month Club membership—last year’s Christmas gift—should be enough to cover it.

Then why could she still taste Gabe on her lips? And practically feel his abs flattened against her stomach and the warmth of his hand between her legs? She opened the freezer and stuck her head in, the cold air burning the flush right off her cheeks. She and Gabe needed to have sex. It was as simple as that. They would sleep together, and it would be terrible, the passion would die out, and they could go on as rational adults. They needed to keep their relationship simple, for Tom’s sake.

A car door slammed.

Betts closed the freezer and peeked through the blinds. Tom grabbed a battered, green backpack out of the bed of an old, blue truck. She opened the door.

“How was school?”

Tom looked up. His eyes went wide, and then he smiled. “This is your RV?” He walked over. “I asked my dad whose it was. All he said was, ‘don’t get attached ’cause she ain’t staying long.’”

They’d just see about that. Betts stepped down onto the grass. “He’s not too happy to see me.”

Tom nodded. “Mad about the land. Don’t get your feelings hurt. It isn’t personal. The land means everything to him.”

Betts shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Your dad and I go way back. Trust me. It’s personal. Wanna come in?” She gestured at her RV. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom slung the backpack over his left shoulder.

“I made you some cookies, but your dad stole them. Next time, I’m not inviting the wolf into the hen house.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.” Tom’s stomach rumbled. He slapped a hand to it. “Okay, I’m a little hungry.”

“I don’t have any sweets, but I do have some chicken and sausage gumbo directly from New Orleans. My mother made it. She’s in town running errands. Unfortunately, she’ll be back. Probably at the most inopportune moment.” Mama collected inopportune moments like other people collected stamps.

Betts stepped inside, followed by Tom. “Throw your backpack anywhere. Take a look around while I warm up the gumbo.” Betts beamed as she pulled out a medium-sized pot from under the sink. She was making a snack…dinner…whatever for her son.

“Where are your friends?” Tom’s eyes were huge as he looked around. “This place is amazing. It feels so much bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside.”

“Smoke and mirrors. Believe me. It’s small, and it gets smaller by the day. Charlie and Lucky had to get back to their lives.” Betts opened the refrigerator and pulled out the bowl full of gumbo. She poured the thick, greenish-brown liquid into the pot and lit the gas burner. This time she wouldn’t try so hard. Did all mothers feel this rush of pride mixed with guilt every time they saw their children? “Do you want some dirty rice too?”

“I don’t know. What’s in it?”

Betts laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

“It is good?” Tom called from the bedroom.

“It’s taken Best in the French Quarter these last ten years as judged by the
New Orleans Times-Picayune
.”

“Sounds good.” Tom walked back into the main room. “That’s some TV in the bedroom.” He spun around slowly. “Is there one in here?”

At least he liked her house, even if the jury was still out on her. Betts pulled a small pan of dirty rice out of the refrigerator and slid it in the oven. “See that long table against the wall?” She pointed. “Push the black button on the right.”

Tom touched the button, and a large flat-screen TV rose from the console.

“There’s also a projector and a screen in case I want to have movie night outside.” Betts stirred the gumbo.

“Wow.” Tom ran a finger along the top of the TV. “This is really nice.”

Betts grabbed a dishtowel and wiped her hands. “Have a seat. Want something to drink?”

“Sure.” Tom sat on the leather banquette surrounding the kitchen table.

“Root beer, okay?” Betts pulled an Abita root beer out of the fridge. “How’s…what’s her name? Kaitlin?” Betts twisted off the cap and set the bottle in front of him.

Things were going well, but now that she didn’t have any tasks to keep her hands busy, they straightened the salt and pepper shakers, stacked sheet music she’d spread over the table, and fidgeted with the napkins. She hadn’t been this nervous at the CMTs.

“Not so good.” He took a pull off the root beer. “I gave her a ride home.”

Betts grabbed a bottle of water so she’d have something to do and twisted off the top. “That sounds promising—”

“Not really.” With his thumbnail, he picked off the Abita label. “I don’t have a chance with her. She doesn’t see me. It’s impossible.”

“How so?” Betts fisted one hand and cocked it on her hip. Had that snotty little bitch hurt her son? Mama wasn’t the only one who could swing a bat.

He looked so dejected that Betts wanted to gather him in her lap and hug him tight. Instead, she slid into the seat across from him.

“Get this. Her boyfriend cheated on her with another girl, and Kaitlin doesn’t care. She was upset because he lied about it.” Tom shook his head. “Can you believe it? She isn’t breaking up with him—this is my favorite part—because there’s no one else to go out with. All the good”—he made quotes with his fingers,—“guys are taken.”