Pretend You Love Me (15 page)

“He hasn’t called me,” were the first words out of her mouth. “Are you sure you gave him the right number?”

“I gave him your note, like you asked.” I assumed her number was on it. Was I supposed to stand by and make sure Bailey could
read? I was pretty sure he could.

She exhaled audibly. “Why wouldn’t he call?”

He wasn’t interested? Yeah, right. “Maybe he’s just busy,” I said. “With calving and branding and butchering baby animals.”

“Shit,” Xanadu hissed. “I hate this podunk town. Totoland. No offense, but your lives move in super slo-mo. You could die
of stagnation here. How can you stand it? Okay. I’m going to call him. I’ll ask
about our math assignment. We had one, right? Get him to talk. I know once we start talking, he’ll loosen up. If there’s one
thing I’m good at, it’s talking. And coming on to guys.” She laughed.

My stomach felt queasy.

“Do you know his number?” she asked.

Silence.

“Okay, that was stupid. I just thought maybe you all knew each other’s numbers by heart. I hate to ask you this—”

“No,” I said. I wasn’t calling him. Not now, not ever. “Why don’t you look him up in the phone book?”

“The phone book? Oh yeah, huh?”

I could picture her crossing her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder, switching the phone to her other ear, maybe. Licking
her glossy lips.

“Jamie was right,” she said. “You’re a kick-ass player.”

My head swelled. “Thanks.” She was sure chummy with Jamie lately. Probably because she saw more of him than me. They were
in Journalism together, and History and Home Ec. Was it too late in the year for me to rearrange my schedule?

“Hey, why don’t the three of us go out and celebrate?” Xanadu said. “Like, on Friday night.”

The three of us, meaning her, me, and Jamie? “That’d be cool.” I’d rather it was just the two of us, but I’d take what I could
get—for now. Let’s see, today was Wednesday. Count down the hours.

Xanadu exhaled relief. “Finally. I have something to look forward to. Promise me, no cow pies.”

“Ah, shucks.”

She laughed. I loved her laugh. She added, “I’ll get with Jamie and we’ll figure out how to celebrate you in style.”

Celebrate me? Nobody had ever “celebrated” me. Well, Dad. When I was heroic. He’d brag on me at home. And, come to think of
it, Jamie’s mom. She’d baked a sheet cake for my sixteenth birthday in September and surprised me with it in homeroom. It
was a little embarrassing, everyone in class singing to me. I’d made a wish and blew out the one big candle in the middle.
It was a stupid wish. I knew it would never come true. You can’t bring someone back from the dead.

J
amie and Xanadu were secretive, whispering behind my back all week, scheming. It made me nervous, anxious. They revealed part
of the plan, that the party wouldn’t start until later, ten o’clock. Which was fine with me. I was scheduled to work the Merc
Friday night.

I kept looking at my watch every few minutes during my shift. Flicking the crystal on the Timex to make sure the hands weren’t
stuck. I was antsy to bail. Everett didn’t even have to remind me to sweep up before closing.

When I got home the house was dark. Darryl must’ve gone out, or gone to bed. His overactive lifestyle had to be exhausting.
The truck was available, that’s all I cared about. I took a shower, then called Xanadu to let her know I’d be picking her
up in a few minutes. Right after I stopped for Jamie.

“Change of plans,” Xanadu said, her voice lowered, conspiratorial. “Don’t come until eleven. I’ll have to sneak out, and Aunt
Faye and Uncle Lee are still up watching TV. Don’t come to the house either. Meet me at the road.”

“Okay.” What was the problem? Wasn’t she allowed to go out? Now I’d worry all night she was going to get busted.

I called Jamie back to fill him in on the revised plan. He already knew; he and Xanadu had been in touch. At the designated
time, I pulled up in front of his trailer to find him sitting on the front stoop, his cordless phone plugged into his ear.
He leaped to his feet, disconnected, and tossed the phone through the front door. Shouldering his backpack, he skipped to
the curb. Sly grin on his face.

“What are we doing tonight?” I asked as he climbed into the truck.

The grin exaggerated.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

“Jamie, if you guys embarrass me—”

“Just drive,” he ordered. “That was Xana on the phone. She says Auntie Petunia and Uncle Fester finally went to bed, so she’s
heading out. She’ll meet us by the power line.”

“Why didn’t she just tell them we were going out together?” Faye wouldn’t have minded. Would she? I got a weird feeling from
Faye.

Jamie said, “That’d be too easy. I’m guessing it’s a game with her. She wants to see how far she can push it. I’m guessing
she’s a girl who likes to flirt with danger. ‘Flirt’ being the operative word.”

“She shouldn’t be walking alone on the road at night,” I said. “Anyone could be out there.” Drunks, serial killers. It wasn’t
always safe in the country. “Why didn’t you tell her to wait?”

“Far be it from me. Maybe if you rescue her from the Bogeyman, she’ll let you spank her.”

I flung a fist and slugged his chest.

He went all limp, feigning death.

She appeared like an apparition, her short white T-shirt reflecting the harsh glare of my headlights. Over the shirt she wore
a long, lacy
sweater, and tight red leather pants. God. I could take her now. Dump Jamie at the side of the road and celebrate in style.

I pulled up alongside her. The backpack crooked in her elbow looked heavy. What was with the backpacks? They didn’t tell me
to bring my backpack.

Xanadu opened the door on Jamie’s side and he hopped out to let her in. “Hey, guys.” She grinned at Jamie—same evil grin as
his. What were they up to? She had to scoot way over next to me because Jamie wedged his backpack and hers between them. Did
he do that on purpose? Thank you.

“Where to?” I asked.

“The caboose,” Jamie answered.

“No way.”

“Just drive.”

“Jamie—”

“What’s the caboose?” Xanadu cut in.

Neither of us replied.

“Come on. What is it?”

Jamie leaned around her and smirked at me. “You’ll see.”

Kill you, my expression relayed. I didn’t want to go to the caboose. We hadn’t reached that stage in our relationship yet.
If I did take her though, she might start thinking about it. Consider the possibility. I’d been thinking about it.

I eased off the clutch.

Xanadu dug in her backpack and pulled out her portable CD player. “So we don’t have to listen to that country crap,” she informed
us.

Fine by me. I sent Jamie another silent threat: If you tell her I’m into country, you’re roadkill.

Ten miles north of Coalton, over the elevated road and past the old homestead, the caboose loomed up out of the scraggly sumacs.
I maneuvered the truck down the trampled tire tracks and crunched to a
stop. No other cars were around. If one had been, we would’ve had to leave. Caboose etiquette. Naturally, we’d take note of
who was here. Inquiring minds want to know.

“Is this for real?” Xanadu said. “How cool.”

The caboose was an abandoned car from the Union Pacific Railroad. Before the tracks were rerouted to the Co-op elevators in
town, they ran out this way. A grain car was coupled to the caboose at one time, but it’d been hauled back to the rail yard
in Denver, or Wichita.

“I’ve never been inside a caboose.” Xanadu pushed Jamie out the door so she could exit. “What’s it doing here?”

Jamie answered, “Providing continuous hours of adult entertainment.”

Xanadu plowed through the trees and grasped the stair railing. She stepped up, ascending onto the deck. Jamie followed. I
trailed him. He glanced over his shoulder at me and leered. Kill you, I threatened him with a fist. Peering into the little
window, Xanadu gasped, “Oh my God. Don’t tell me.”

The king-size mattress spoke volumes.

Last time Jamie and I had driven out here, in November during our Thanksgiving break, we’d found a bunch of shriveled condoms
on the ground around the caboose. Five, to be exact. Jamie added them to his vile collection. He named each one individually:
Beau I, Beau II, Beau III…

“Do people really come here and do it?” Xanadu asked. She opened the creaky door and entered the cabin, not waiting for an
answer.

I collared Jamie, “What are we doing here?”

“A three-way,” he said.

I ground a knuckle into his spine and he yelped.

She wandered around the interior, taking it all in. I could read her face—awe and delight. “This is so sleazy,” she said,
eyes gleaming. “How fun.”

“Wait, don’t sit on that nasty thing.” Jamie hurried over to Xanadu,
who was falling to her knees on the mattress. He wrenched her up by the elbow. “You don’t know where it’s been. Or whose DNA’s
been deposited. Here. I brought a cover.” He opened his pack and pulled out a checkered tablecloth. The three of us spread
it over the mattress.

“The Suprette was running a little low on party supplies.” Jamie retrieved a cellophane bag full of party hats from his pack.
He ripped open the package with his teeth. They were flimsy cardboard cones, Star Wars theme.

Xanadu slid her cone hat on and snapped the elastic band under her chin. I copied her. Jamie put his hat on. We looked at
each other and cracked up.

Jamie reached in his pack and pulled out a can of Reddi-wip. “Okay, girls,” he said. “Get naked.”

Xanadu and I rolled our eyes in unison. Good. We were communicating here.

Jamie popped the top on the whipped cream and aimed the nozzle at his open mouth.

“Wait.” Xanadu yanked down his arm. “What’s a party without serious liquid refreshment?” She lifted the flap on her pack and
extracted a liter of vodka.

Absolut. The brand Dad always kept in his desk.

Jamie gasped, “Girl, you are bad. Give me that.” He lunged for the bottle.

Xanadu’s eyes sparkled. “You don’t know how bad.” She relinquished the vodka to him, then produced a bottle of wine from her
pack. I assumed it was wine—blood-colored, corked. There was no label on the bottle, so it must’ve been homemade. A lot of
people brewed their own spirits. Xanadu set the bottle next to her and dug out another item. A box. A gift box.

“Oh yeah,” Jamie said. “Pick your poison.” The third selection was a quart of Jack Daniel’s. Jamie raised the vodka to his
lips, but Xanadu
stopped him again. “This is a celebration of Mike,” she said. “We have to make a toast.” She opened the gift box and handed
me the quart of whiskey.

“Where did you get all this?” I asked as she twisted the cork on her wine.

“I found my aunt and uncle’s stash in the root cellar. Is that what you call it, where you store all the jars? I think Aunt
Faye must’ve forgotten it was down there because she sent me to get peaches for dinner. She had to know I’d find the booze.”

I almost said what I was thinking: Maybe she trusted you to leave it alone.

Xanadu added, “It ought to be potent. The bottles were pretty dusty.”

I unscrewed the lid on the Jack Daniel’s and passed it under my nose. Whew. The fumes alone were staggering.

“To Mike.” Xanadu raised her wine bottle. “Who always saves the day.”

My face flared. “I don’t know about that.”

Xanadu and Jamie swigged from their bottles. I studied mine, noting how a view of her through the amber liquid turned her
hair the color of sunset.

The whiskey burned all the way down. It’d been a long time since I’d drunk hard liquor straight. Since I’d discovered Dad’s
hip flask in the glove compartment when I was, what, six?

“To Mike,” Jamie said. “Coalton’s player of the year.” He raised the Absolut to his lips again. “Make that the millennium.”

Xanadu muttered, “That’s a Toto eternity.”

The second swig of J.D. went down easier. Most everyone drank; there wasn’t a whole lot else to do on weekends. Mainly we
stuck to beer though. It was cheaper, more accessible.

Xanadu slid in a disc and cranked up the volume on her CD. The
music was hip-hop or rap, no group I’d know. Jamie and Xanadu rocked shoulders in time to the beat. “Let’s play musical bottles,”
Jamie yelled. He handed me the vodka and reached for Xanadu’s wine. As I tipped the vodka to my lips, Jamie hollered, “No,
keep passing. Until the music stops.”

Dumb game. Xanadu seemed to like it though. We circulated the liquor five or six times, then Jamie switched off the music.

The three of us drank from the bottles we were holding. Something was missing here. Oh yeah. Player elimination.

“To Mike,” Xanadu said. She clinked my bottle, then Jamie’s. “My hero.”

“To Mike,” Jamie replied. “My queero.”

“Shut up.” To me, I silently saluted.

The music started up again. “We’re going to get so sick,” I shouted. Jamie grinned. My stomach rumbled as the Absolut traveled
from me to Xanadu. “Did anybody bring food?”

“Fo-od,” Jamie sang. He set down the Jack Daniel’s and upended his backpack onto the mattress. Fun Size Snickers and Mars
Bars and Baby Ruths tumbled out. They had to be left over from Halloween. In the middle of the pile was a baggie.

“Ooh, Jamie. I love you.” Xanadu puckered a kiss at him. It made me wish I’d brought candy or something. Right. Ma rooted
out sweets like a truffle pig.

I selected a Baby Ruth and unwrapped it. I snuck a peek at Xanadu, watching her, getting lost in her presence with me here
tonight. She met my eyes and smiled—a smile so sensuous I thought I’d pee my pants.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?” Xanadu asked. She and Jamie rolled a joint.

“I’ll probably go to the University of Alabama.” Jamie struck a match and lit up.

This was the first I’d heard of that plan.

“Why Alabama?” Xanadu took a hit.

Jamie sighed dreamily. “Tell her, Mike.”

“Tell her what?”

He widened his eyes at me. “Shane. That’s where he wants to go.”