The Mason List (24 page)

“Maybe I
should find someone else who really wants to dance.”

“Maybe you
should.  There's a whole room full of them.” I let go of his body and gestured
out toward the floor. “I’ll find someone else to entertain me.”

Turning
in the opposite direction, I walked toward the counter and sat down on the
wooden barstool.  Brecken would be back soon and I could just hang with him for
the rest of the night.  Dutch was fun, but I was not caving to his pressure.  I
felt a set of hands go around my waist and flatten across my stomach.  His
thumbs rubbed back and forth over the sides of my breasts.

“None of
them dance as good as you, Lex…”  His lips pressed into the skin of my neck. 
Damn he was persistent.  I let him pull me off the barstool and back toward the
floor, keeping a possessive arm around my waist.  Dutch couldn't verbally convince
me to change my mind, but he did his best to break the wall down with his body.

My
attraction to Dutch was different than my attraction to Jess.  Dutch caused
something to stir in me that felt very sexual and exciting but at the same
time, not fulfilling, like eating a whole tub of frosting without a single
crumb of cake. 

On the
other hand, Jess made me feel something unexplainable.  Thoughts of the
dark-haired boy clouded the moment.  I knew it was only a matter of time before
he interrupted my weekend shenanigans.  Jess wasn’t here, yet he was
everywhere...

A pain
stabbed me right in the chest.  I abruptly let go of Dutch and walked to the
bar for another shot.  Suddenly, the idea of his hands on my body, made me feel
nauseous.

In the
early morning hours, Dutch and I left with a few others to wander down Bourbon
Street to a tattoo parlor.  I watched as the others picked out barbed designs
to commemorate the drunken summer of Rochellas.  They took turns getting inked
as I drew on a napkin in the corner.

“Lex, you
can't just sit there on your ass.  We are in this sick tattoo parlor in
New…Aw…lins.” Dutch's loud, drunk voice drew the syllables out like a stadium
announcer, sending Brecken in a high pitch howl.

“Hells
yeah!” Breck took another swig out of the tequila bottle he picked up somewhere
on the street.

“Hey, let
me see that.” Dutch grabbed my doodle on the napkin. “Damn girl!  You are
good.  Nope.  No backing out now.  That would look cool as shit right there.”
He flipped over my arm, pointing at the bracelets tied on my inner wrist. “I
can see it right there all twisty and hot, inked into that sweet-ass skin.”

“Dutch, I
can’t do that.  It’s permanent.”

“You’re
like this crazy, freaky cool artist.” He intertwined our hands, tracing my Luscious
Pokeweed painted nails. “What better way to say, ‘I’ve got it.  I’ve got so
much talent I put it right here.’  You have to do it.”

“I don’t
know.” I looked wide-eyed back at my doodle.  It was a quick, wispy sketch,
reminiscent of a Celtic design I once saw in an art book.

“Come on
Lexie.  Lexie!” Dutch chanted.  After a few seconds, every drunken patron of
the fine establishment had joined in on his charming antics.

“Oh,
screw it.  But it has to be a small version of it.  Breck, give me that bottle.”

“Oh
yeah.  That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

I needed
some liquid courage and hoped my nervous stomach could keep it down.  Dutch
gave me a slap on the ass as I took a seat.  The burly guy, in a Tesla rock
t-shirt, grabbed the scissors to clip off the strands.

“Wait!”
Reaching in the midst, I unlatched the one in memory of BB, stuffing the
braided band snug in my hip pocket.  My lips planted on the bottle for another
swig. “Ok.  Let’s do it.”

During
the cleaning and prepping, I felt the buzzy vibe of the tequila.  The artist
transferred my picture to a stick on stencil.  The excitement built watching
the prototype come to life.

“Shit!” I
sputtered as the first needle stab hurt like a bitch.

I watched
the beautiful picture develop into a four-inch long design, with loopy edges
scrawling around my wrist.  It glowed in the same purple shade as my nails. 
When the tattoo guy finished, my eyes grew wide; I was permanently inked with
my own artwork.

Stumbling
back to the cheap motel, I clung to Dutch with my marked arm.  I was drunk; the
dizzy kind of drunk that slurred my words.  Outside my room, he pushed me
against the wall and leaned in for a kiss, letting his weight settle against my
body.  His tongue slipped over mine, blocking any protest to stop.

Rational
thoughts moved at a sluggish speed, hoping everyone was asleep and not
meandering back to their rooms only to catch a peep show.  He slipped his
fingers in the waist band of my jeans, causing ticklish tremors on my skin.

Tickle
massacre.
  His
laughing blue eyes popped into memory, bringing back all the times Jess held me
down until I screamed for mercy in hysterical laughter.

Dutch
flicked the button free and inched the zipper down.  He pushed his hand down
inside the denim.  “Mercy.” The word slipped out, meaning nothing to him.

“Huh?”

“You need
to let me go.”  I tried to step to the side, but I lost one of my shoes.

“Lexie,
baby.”  His eyes sagged in a heavy trance.  “Don't leave me hangin’.  I need
you so bad it hurts.”

To the
right, a door slammed open catching us both off-guard.  Darcy came out wearing
only a tight, white t-shirt and hot pink panties.  I could see through both of
them.  “Get your purvey hands off her jackass.”

She
pulled me toward the room, giving Dutch no option but to back off or fall
down.  They exchanged a wordless conversation of angry attraction.  In that
moment, I was positive there was truth behind the theory that Dutch and Darcy
had hooked up at some point in the dirty past of Rochellas.

“Mind
your own damn business,” Dutch growled in her face.

Darcy let
loose a string of expletives and slammed the door.  Tequila swirled around in
my stomach as I collapsed on my bed.  Good save, even if it came from her
twisted jealousy.  Darcy threw the lost shoe in my direction and stormed back
out into the hallway in those pink panties, slamming the door again.  

Alone in
the cheap room, I contemplated the events of the evening.  The dark-haired boy
invaded every translucent thought circling in my tequila filled brain.  In a
moment of weakness, I picked up my phone and waited for his familiar sound to
float through the buzzy rings.

“Alex?” 
Hearing is sleepy voice, I felt like I’d slipped on my favorite sweatshirt from
a bottom drawer.  A warm, peaceful feeling spread from my chest through the
rest of my body.

“Hey,” I
whispered.

“What
time is it?”

“It’s
really late.”

“Somethin’
wrong?”  His voice got a little more alert.  In the background, I heard the
rustling of sheets as he sat up in his bed.  I knew they were blue sheets.  He
was sitting in bed, shirtless, against his blue sheets, pushing his dark hair
off his forehead.

“No, I…” 
My nails dug into my palm.  “I was just thinking about some stuff.”

“Are you
out in the woods this late alone?”

“No, I’m
actually…I’m with Darcy.”  It wasn’t a total lie, but I couldn’t tell Jess I
was in New Orleans.

“Everythin’
ok?”

“Yeah,
it’s fine.  Sorry, I know it’s late.  I’ll let you go.”

The line
held a pause.  I pictured those troubled eyebrows contemplating the real
purpose of my call in the middle of the night.  Jess would worry and stay
awake, tossing around after I hung up.  Stupid drunk calling.  I just wanted to
hear his voice, and the alcohol let my guard down.

“You can
call me anytime, Al,” he whispered on the other end of the phone.  “I don’t
care how late it is.”

“I know,
but you have to get up early.”

“I do but
I don’t care.  Talk to me, Al.  What’s wrong?”

“I’m
fine.  I’m just waiting on Darcy while she um, calls someone.”

“I hear
it in your voice.”  He sounded so sweet and it grabbed me in the chest.

“I’m just
tired.”

“Ok.” 
The line was silent and then he whispered, “I miss you, Al.”

My eyes
closed, hearing his voice swirl around in the darkness.  “I miss the sound of
your voice…your beautiful face.  I miss your laugh.”  I forgot I was in New
Orleans as I listened to his sleepy, pancake syrup coated words.   “The way you
act all mad but still smile at me.  I miss the way your lips turn up a little
on the right side…when you’re tryin’ to tease me back.  Do you even know you do
that?”

“No,” I
whispered.

“It’s how
I know when you’re lyin’ too.”

“I don’t
lie.”

“No?”  He
chuckled in a deep voice.  “I miss this…I miss talking to you…watchin’ your
lips move.  I miss that freckle right next to the bottom one…the way it’s sorta
on your skin and your lip.  Makes me want to kiss it…taste it.”

“Jess…” I
whispered, feeling my skin burn in a way that only he could make happen.

He let
out a deep breath. “I know, I’m not supposed to say that stuff.  I just wish
summer was over.  I miss…seeing you.”

“I know.” 
I swallowed hard.  “Goodnight, Jess.”

“Ok…I’ll
let you go.  Night, Alex.”

We stayed
on the phone a good minute, listening to each other breathe until I finally
hung up.  The pounding in my chest vibrated in my ears, thanks to the alcohol. 
In the hazy buzz, I pictured his sweet face and blue eyes, and those pink lips
that felt so good when he kissed me.  I whispered out loud in the dark, empty
room what I couldn’t say to him on the phone.

 “I miss
you too.”

Chapter 30

When I
was nineteen…

I sat at
the pool, watching Dutch pretend to monitor the kids.  He took another swing
out of a flask then grinned at me.  After we returned to Rochellas, Dutch and I
had resumed as
flirting friends
, but things were different.  Guilt ate
into every free moment, making it all feel terribly wrong.  I remained confused
about the past and what to do about the future.  It lurked around every turn of
the shadowy woods.  Once again Jess was not here; yet he was everywhere,
haunting my resolved to set him free.

The gate banged
closed, catching my attention.  I slipped off my sunglasses seeing Franny from
the main office.  “Hey, some guy named Jess called for directions off the
highway.  He was at the main turnoff.  Should be here in like ten minutes.”

I jumped
out of my chair, knocking my sunglasses in the pool. 
No! Oh, crap, no!
A violent attack of nausea kicked in my stomach.

“Who’s
Jess?” Dutch asked from his chair. 

I
struggled to get the flimsy cover over my suit.  “He’s um.” I couldn’t even get
my flip flops on my feet.  “He’s…someone from high school.  We grew up
together.”

“You’re
from Abilene, right?”

“No,
Arlis.  Um, I’ve gotta go.”

I
sprinted out the gate toward the parking lot. 
Why did I call Jess!
 
Stupid, stupid, drunk, idiotic, phone call summed this visit to Rochellas. 
This was bad in so many ways. 

I was out
of breath and panting as I watched his white truck pull into the parking lot. 
Maybe I could tell him I’m too sick for visitors and then throw up in front of
him.  It wouldn’t take much; the nausea was about to choke me.  He parked in an
empty spot.  I gritted my fingers into my palms. 
The tattoo!
  I wrapped
the towel around my wrist, just as he climbed out of the truck. 

Jess
smiled, and I felt a quick stab of pain in my chest.  He looked good.  Jess
always got darker in the summer and it made his blue eyes even brighter.  His
arms slipped around my waist in a hug, lifting my feet up from the gravel.  My
whole body was touching him, feeling him, until Jess placed me back down.

“So…surprise?” 
He grinned at me.

“I know. 
You should have called.”     

“Then it
wouldn’t have been a surprise.”  His eyes flickered over my clothes, which were
virtually see-through. “You swimmin’ now?”

My
fingers clenched the towel draped over my left wrist.  I felt nervous.  “No, I
just um, sit at the pool sometimes.”

“Well you
must do it a lot.  You look good, Al.”

“Thanks.”
My fingers fidgeted around again, feeling a loss for words. “Well, I guess grab
your stuff.  We can drop it off and then I’ll give you the glamorous tour.”

“Glamorous?
I thought you said it smelled like swamp shit here.”

“It does,
but um…I guess it’s better than your arm pit of death after being on the
tractor.”

“Jerk.”
Jess reached over and whacked me on the arm.  He grinned at me and it almost felt
normal.  In the distance, I saw Dutch walking back from the pool.  The spiral
of apprehension returned when I realized the inevitable; they would meet, and
there was nothing I could do about it. 

Jess
followed me down the trail to the dorms.  He chattered, and I half listened to
some stupid story about Skeeter.  He claimed to see Jesus that afternoon in the
murky creek bed as he lay passed out from his fall.  Skeeter had wandered into
Main Street Church last Sunday, and sat right down on the third pew, making
Mrs. Ida Flemming and Mrs. Crawford scoot to the middle of the row.  The ladies
watched Skeeter with wide eyes, fanning themselves as they were bumped from the
very spot they’d occupied for the last forty years.

“It was
funny.  One of the usher’s dropped the offerin’ plate, and it hit the wood
floor.”  He stopped walking and looked at me. “You ok?” 

“I’m
fine.”

“You
don’t seem fine.  No snarky comment ‘bout Skeeter.  I thought it would make you
laugh.”

“I’m
laughing.”  I smiled at him.  “Why don’t you wait here.  I’m going to change
then we can eat dinner before your tour.”  I hoped if we went early, maybe we
could avoid the rest of them.

I rushed
Jess through the food line, practically throwing things on his tray.  We
settled at a spot in the back corner, far from my usual table I shared with
Dutch, Brecken, and Darcy.

“You’re
not sayin‘ much,” Jess commented, while I scanned the room again for signs of
Dutch.

“It’s
been a long week.  I’m surprised you’re attempting to eat that.” I gestured toward
his burger.

“I know. 
Caroline has me spoiled.  You know she’s got one of the girls bringin’ me food
out to Sprayberry.”

“What
kind of tip gets that service?”

“You
should know,” he winked.

I scanned
the room again, just in time to see Dutch walk in the side entrance.  He
spotted me immediately and waved in our direction.  I sat frozen in place, fork
in mid-bite. 

“Hey,
what’s wrong?”

“What
um,” I muttered.  I couldn’t even speak as I watched Dutch get closer and
closer to our table with Brecken.

“Hey
Lexie.” Brecken reached for our usual high five. 
Shit!
I held a palm
up, keeping my eyes away from Jess.  Dutch sat down next to me while Brecken
pulled a chair up on the other side by Jess.

“I’m
Dutch and the guy with serial killer beard is Brecken.”

“Jess,”
he grunted, shaking both of their hands.  So far, so good, but I knew it was
just the beginning.

“You grew
up with Lex?” Dutch asked as he put an arm around my shoulders, letting his
hand linger a moment against the back of my neck. 

“Uh,
yeah, I guess.” His eyes moved from me then over to Dutch, trying to piece
together something that wasn’t clear yet.

“Cool. 
Cool.” Dutch reached over with his fork to grab my discarded tomatoes from my
plate.  He raised the bun of his burger to mash them inside. “Sorry man, I hate
to say you picked a really dull time to visit.  Lex, you should have invited
him to Bourbon Street last weekend with us.  Now that was some fun shit.”

“You were
in New Orleans.  Last Saturday.” The words came not as a question, but a dead
pan accusation.

“Yeah…um…briefly.” 
I wasn’t sure what to do at this point.  The tension inside my head felt as if
it would explode, leaving bits of brain matter across the table. 

“Where do
you work at the camp?” Jess glared at Dutch.

“I’m a
lifeguard.  Poolside, not lake.”

“You work
at the swimmin’ pool.” Jess looked back at me. 
He knew.

“Best
damn job here.  Little work and everyone likes to hang out with you.  Right
Lexie?”

I
swallowed hard, not answering.

“Hey,
pass me the ketchup.” Dutch tapped my hand.  I reached up and grabbed the
bottle, forgetting about my exposed wrist.

Jess
yanked my arm across the table, staring at the inked design.  His jaw clenched
tight.  "We need to talk. 
Now!
" That last word came out as a
low growl.  His eyes burned from just a few feet away.  I’d never seen him so
angry at me.

“Ok.”

Getting
out of my seat, I went to the door, feeling his presence right behind me.  I
never looked back the entire trip down the dirt path to the lake.  I took a
deep breath and sat down on a log, expecting him to join me.  He paced around
the trail.

“Why
don’t you sit down.”  I tried to keep my voice even.  This would be a fight. 
We both knew it, but maybe I could calm him down.

“What are
you doin’ here?” His voice was so deep, so angry.

“I don’t
understand.” 

“Don't
play dumb.  You're the smartest person I know.  What are you doin'? This camp
and these people.  Who the hell is Lexie?” 

“It's
just a camp nickname, Jess.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That
Dutch guy not
mean
anythin’ either?” 

“We’re
friends.”  

“
Right.
 Guys like him are not just friends.  I don’t like him and he reeked of
pot.”  The disgusted sneer on his lips broke through my reserve of trying to
keep this peaceful. 

“You
don’t know him!”  

“I’m
startin’ to think I don’t know you.  It’s like you created an entire new
identity.” 

“It's not
like that.” 

“I don't
know how else you would explain it.” 

“It
wasn't intentional…it just…sort of happened.” I could see that was the wrong
answer to his question.  Jess crossed the distance between us and yanked my arm
up, shoving it close to my face. 

“That
tattoo just sort of happen too, or was it his idea?”

“It’s
just a tattoo and I drew it.  It’s one of my pictures.”

“I have
your pictures.  That's not one of ‘em.” He let go of my arm, throwing it out
like a dirty rag.

“Jess,
don’t be this way.”  His eyes followed every curve of my body from my hair down
to my gray tennis shoes.  I felt a little exposed under the radar of scrutiny. 
Was he looking for another permanent embellishment on my body or something else
deeper? 

“I have
to know.” His pushed his hair back off his forehead.  “Is this what you meant
last summer? When you fed me that bullshit.  Is this what you really wanted? 
This place and these people and pretendin’ to be someone else?” 

“Maybe I
want to forget about who I am.  Just for a little bit.  Being here around these
people…I haven't felt like poor, pathetic Alex.  It was nice.” 

“You
can't just erase your past.”

“Why
can't I?” 

“You just
can’t.  Because it erases…” The realization died on his lips.

“You?” 

“Yes. 
You can’t pretend I don’t exist.  That we aren’t us.  I told you I would wait
for you.”

“I told
you not too.  You kissed me.  It was nice.  We decided to be just friends.  End
of story.”

“Bullshit!”

“No, it’s
not.”

“It’s
complete bullshit and you know it!”

“You’re
right.  It’s bullshit because you haven’t been some angel waiting around for
me.  You were with other people too.” 

“Other
people? You mean the assigned sorority pledges for date parties? Damn it, Alex!
Those were not choices.  Those were not
other girls
.  I haven’t been
with any other girl since I told you how I felt.” 

“You have
got to be kidding me! Dutch is no different than your other girls.” 

“Nothin'
happened with them and you know it.  Stop tryin’ to make excuses.  Stop tryin’
to deny you’ve done absolutely nothin’ with a guy like that.  Al, come on.” 

“Don't
Al
me!” I jumped up and stood just a few inches from his face.    

“Fine,
Lexie
,
or whatever the hell your name is!”  His nostrils flared as he continued to
shout in my face.  “We are apart for one summer and your common sense goes down
the shitter.  You apparently don't seem to care ‘bout what I think or feel.  I
thought we had an understandin’ ‘bout our future.”

“
We
are not together.  There is no
our
future.”

“It's
been
we
since
we
were eight!”  The smell of his breath came with
fine drops of spit landing on my cheeks.  I didn't budge.  Each syllable of his
words seemed to leave a lingering echo in the trees. 

“My
friend.  That's it.”  My body stayed planted right in his face as I stressed
the painful words back.  “That was our understanding.  You can’t tell me who
else I can be friends with.  It's none of your business.”

“It’s my
business because you are supposed to be with me…you’re mine!”