The War Within (21 page)

They had been hanging out ever since, having the sort of mindless fun Jordan thought she needed after Brittany kicked her to the curb and Grandma Meredith’s confession threw her into a tailspin. But somewhere along the line, being with Hayden had stopped being fun. Some of the things she and Willow said gave Jordan pause. Jordan couldn’t tell if they meant what they said or if they really sucked at trying to be funny. But they were trust fund babies from Charleston, South Carolina, and she was a small-town girl from Kenosha, Wisconsin. Perhaps something got lost in translation.

While Willow grabbed the case of beer they had bought from the package shop a few miles away, Hayden snagged the bag containing margarita salt, limes, and a bottle of tequila. “I think we have time for a quick round of body shots. Are you game, Jordan?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Jordan climbed out of the backseat of the convertible as Hayden and Willow headed for the stairs that led to their second-floor condo. In the unit below theirs, a large German shepherd pushed his face between the blinds in the front window and started barking his head off. The deep-throated sound was beyond intimidating.

“Who’s he?” Jordan waved at the shepherd, who stopped barking and scraped a paw against the window as if he were waving back.

“He belongs to Tatum, our downstairs neighbor,” Hayden said with a dramatic eye roll. “He’s a sweetheart, but she’s a raging bitch.”

“Wouldn’t you be if you were stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of your life?” Willow asked.

Jordan jogged to catch up to them. “Is she sick or did she have some sort of accident?”

“Neither. She was in the military and she was shot while she was stationed in Afghanistan. Or maybe it was Pakistan.” Hayden shrugged. “One of the ’stans. I can’t remember which. The location doesn’t matter. The result is still the same, right?”

“Too bad,” Willow said. “My cousin, Riley, works with her at the Remember When Inn, the place near the beach that features rooms decorated like the sets from classic TV shows. Riley’s the day manager and Tatum works nights. Riley’s bumping uglies with the owner, though, so Tatum usually ends up getting stuck with all the work. Riley said she used to be hot.”

“She’s still cute,” Hayden said as she unlocked the condo door, “but who’s got time to play nursemaid all day?”

“Not me. That’s for sure.” Willow placed the beer on the counter with a sigh of relief. “What about you, Jordan? Could you date someone with a disability?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it, but I like to think I would be dating the person, not the disability.”

“And have people staring at you everywhere you went?” Hayden wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That’s very PC of you. Fortunately, I’m un-PC enough for both of us.”

A point she was making all too clear. Jordan didn’t know what she was looking for this summer, but Hayden wasn’t it. She grabbed her oversized hemp beach bag and draped it over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

“What about body shots?” Hayden asked with a lascivious grin. “I was looking forward to licking tequila off your skin.”

“Some other time.” The prospect of casual sex didn’t hold the appeal it had ten days earlier. The problems she had hoped to forget about were still at the forefront of her mind and they didn’t appear to be going anywhere any time soon. She needed to stop avoiding her issues and start dealing with them or she’d end the summer as mixed up as she started it. “I’ll see you around.”

“Dude, I think you just got dumped,” Willow said as Jordan headed for the door.

“She’ll be back.”

Jordan closed the door behind her. “Not in this lifetime.”

By the time she reached the sidewalk, she felt as if a burden had been lifted, though a heavier one remained. Her reaction to Grandma Meredith’s revelation surprised her. Disappointed her, too. She wished she could be happy Grandma Meredith had finally come to terms with her feelings for Natalie and buried her uncertainty about her sexuality, but what about her feelings for Papa George? Had she truly loved him or had she settled for a life with him just so she could accomplish her goal of starting a family like she was ticking off items on a to-do list? Jordan hated to think of Papa George as anyone’s Plan B. He deserved better than that. He deserved more.

Jordan began walking across the parking lot. The blacktop was so hot, the soles of her sandals were sticking to the pavement. She fanned the hem of her Make Love Not War T-shirt to produce a breeze, but it only made the hot air hotter. She gave up on trying to cool down when she saw a woman in a wheelchair heading toward her.

The woman had a ripped upper body—the well-defined muscles in her biceps, triceps, and forearms rippled each time she spun the wheels of her chair—but her withered legs seemed to swim inside her gray sweatpants, which, in this heat, were apparently worn for camouflage instead of comfort. She had a canvas grocery bag on her lap and a gym bag draped across the back of her wheelchair. Her T-shirt read, Marine Corps Veteran.

Jordan figured the woman must be Tatum, the downstairs neighbor Hayden and Willow had told her about. Willow’s cousin had said Tatum used to be hot. Jordan had news for her. Tatum still was.

Tatum’s medium-length brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, from which a few sweat-dampened tendrils had escaped. Her hazel eyes were intense and focused. With her military background, that was no surprise. Neither was her ramrod straight posture. She looked like she was standing at attention even though she was sitting down.

Her eyes searched Jordan’s questioningly. Uncertainly. As if she were waiting for Jordan to say the wrong thing so she could pick a fight. Apparently, the raging bitch part of Hayden’s description wasn’t too far off. Jordan tried to think of a comment that could be considered innocuous instead of incendiary.

“Your dog’s cute.”

Jordan grinned after her statement provoked a brief smile.

“Thanks, but he prefers to be called handsome.”

Tatum continued on her way and Jordan on hers. Jordan jumped out of the way when Hayden’s BMW, traveling several miles above the posted speed limit, came barreling around a curve. She made it through the close encounter unscathed, but Tatum wasn’t quite as fortunate.

Jordan looked back when she heard a crash and the sound of glass breaking. The instant she saw the telltale yellow spill slowly spreading across the black pavement, she knew Tatum’s newly purchased jar of orange juice had shattered.

“Sorry,” Hayden called out in a singsong voice.

“No screwdrivers for you two tonight,” Willow added, laughing as if she found the situation hilarious.

“Assholes,” Jordan said under her breath, mentally kicking herself for wasting almost two weeks of her life on people who obviously weren’t worth two minutes of her time.

Tatum seemed intent on trying to maintain her dignity as she gathered her scattered belongings. Her reusable shopping bag was within easy reach, but the canvas material was soaking wet and filled with shards of broken glass. She placed the bag on her lap and set her sights on a fallen tomato. Though the tomato had remained intact, it had come to rest tantalizingly out of her grasp. Her dog was barking in her condo’s front window again, obviously anxious to lend her a helping hand. He scratched the double-paned window with one large paw.

“Coming, boy,” Tatum said with a grunt as she leaned over the side of her chair. She stretched as far as she could but couldn’t reach the elusive tomato. As her frustration grew, so did the amount of profanity that spewed from her full lips. She made one more desperate grab for the tomato but came up short yet again.

“Let me help you with that.”

Jordan jogged over to her, picked up the tomato, wiped dirt and debris off the bruised skin, and presented it to Tatum as if it were a gift instead of a possession. “Not quite as good as new, but there you are.”

Tatum took the proffered tomato and tossed it in the wet bag soaking her lap. A dark spot had already formed in the crotch of her sweatpants, making her look like she had pissed herself. She released the wheelchair’s brakes and began to wheel away. “Thanks, but I don’t need any help.”

“You don’t want help from anyone or just from me?”

Tatum turned to look at her, her eyes flashing fire. “I don’t need your help or your pity. If you hurry, you might be able to catch up with your friends.”

“They’re not my friends.”

“You could have fooled me. You’ve been partying with them every day for the past two weeks. You seemed pretty friendly then.”

“Yeah, well, things change.” Jordan didn’t want to be baited into an argument, despite Tatum’s apparent intentions to do just that. She took a deep breath to gain control of her temper before it slipped free of its reins. “Why don’t we start over? My name’s Jordan. I’m in town for the summer. My grandmother and I came down from Wisconsin to sample some of your vaunted Southern hospitality.”

“I’m Tatum.” She gave Jordan’s hand a quick shake and jerked her chin toward the spot where she, Hayden, and Willow had nearly collided. “Those two don’t look like anyone’s grandmother.”

“No,” Jordan said with a laugh, “they don’t.”

“Are they from Wisconsin, too?”

“No, I met them shortly after Grandma Meredith and I arrived. I was hoping to land a job for the summer, but none of my interviews panned out. I was hanging around the beach one day feeling sorry for myself and my lack of prospects when I hooked up with Hayden and Willow. That sounds awful. I mean, I didn’t hook up with both of them. Just Hayden. We’ve been kicking it for a week or so, but—” She forced herself to stop talking. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, betraying her anxiety. “I always ramble when I get nervous.”

“Why do I make you nervous?”

Jordan shrugged, ignoring the unexpected tug of attraction she felt when Tatum turned her intense gaze squarely on her. “I don’t know. You just do.” She reached for the canvas bag on Tatum’s lap but didn’t close her fingers around the straps in case Tatum lashed out with a few more choice words. “Are you sure I can’t help you with that? You’re going to cut yourself if you aren’t careful.”

Tatum looked at her lap, where bright red drops had begun to mix with the dark gray stain. “To tell the truth, I think I already have.”

“I’ll take this.” Jordan grabbed the grocery bag and held it at arm’s length. Orange juice seeped from the saturated material. “Let’s get you inside so you can get cleaned up.” She began to walk toward Tatum’s condo. “That one’s yours, right?”

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

Jordan grinned. “Not if I can help it.”

Tatum hurried to catch up, then wheeled past her. “Careful,” she said as she slipped the key into the lock. “As soon as I open this door, all hell’s going to break loose.”

Heeding the warning, Jordan took a step back. Tatum pushed the door open and spread her arms as her German shepherd vaulted into her lap. He covered her face with doggie kisses and wagged his tail as if he hadn’t seen her in days when, in actuality, it had probably only been a few hours.

“See?” Tatum said between laps of the dog’s big, pink tongue. “I told you he was vicious.”

“I can tell.”

Tatum patted the shepherd’s haunches and pointed to the ground. “Lincoln, down.”

The dog obediently jumped off Tatum’s lap and stood next to her chair. Cocking his head, he leaned toward Jordan and tentatively sniffed the back of her hand before giving it an enthusiastic lick.

“I think he likes you,” Tatum said as Jordan’s entire hand practically disappeared into the dog’s mouth.

“I doubt it’s me. It’s probably the orange juice.” Jordan dried her hand on the back of her shorts and scratched Lincoln between his ears. He closed his eyes as one of his hind legs thumped against the walkway in canine bliss.

“Definitely not the orange juice. Come on inside.”

Jordan crossed the threshold and took in the condo at a glance. “Nice place. Did you just move in?”

“No.” Tatum wheeled into the living room and tossed her keys on the coffee table. “I’ve lived here for a little over two years.”

“Oh.”

“As you can probably tell, I’m not big on feng shui.”

Jordan took another look around. The place was a blank slate devoid of personality. In the small living room, a brown loveseat and matching armchair were angled toward a flat-screen TV. The open kitchen a few feet away featured the standard appliances, but the battered microwave obviously received more use than the stove. No paintings or photographs adorned the beige walls. The only accessory of any kind was a hideous ceramic sea turtle on the coffee table.

“Someone gave me that as a going away present when I joined the Marines,” Tatum said. “During down times when there wasn’t anything to do except count grains of sand, my buddies in the Corps took turns painting the turtle’s shell. Some of the paint jobs were so bad a kindergartener could have done better; others were pretty impressive. Not like it mattered. After a few beers, no one could tell the difference anyway.” She reached for the grocery bag. “Thanks for your help, but I can take it from here if there’s someplace you need to be.”

“I’ve got all summer. What’s a few more minutes?” Jordan headed to the kitchen and set the grocery bag in the sink. She began to pull pieces of broken glass out of the bag and toss them in the trash. “Go get cleaned up. And don’t forget to disinfect those cuts.”

Tatum watched her unpack the bag, obviously torn between whether she should stay and supervise or trust a complete stranger to have free rein in her kitchen.

“Go,” Jordan said. “I’ve got this.”

“Keep this up and I might have to hire you as a maid.”

“Don’t say that too loud or I might ask you about salary, benefits, and performance bonuses. I am on the lookout for a job, you know.”

“Permanently, or just for the summer?”

“Just for the summer. I want to finish my senior year before I lock down something long-term. If you hear of anything, let me know.”

“I don’t know if Willow or Hayden told you, but I work at one of the hotels in town. Summer is our high season and we’re especially packed this year. I could use an extra person to help deal with the influx of guests. If you’re serious about wanting a job, stop by sometime and fill out an application.”