Sharp as a Mashed Potato
Winter had been mild, and just weeks after Valentine’s Day, sunshine coerced sweet smells out of budding leaves and flowers. Crocuses and daffodil bulbs sprouted, and some of the early bloomers began to stretch their color-drenched petals toward the sky. Since I’d gotten drunk with Bubba and explored beyond the box of chocolate fillings, I hadn’t heard from him. Third hand, Katie Lee found out that one of Patsy’s brothers had spotted him in The Bern, pumping gas at the 7-Eleven.
Valentine’s didn’t end well. I’m a realist. I get it. We’d argued. I’d kicked him out. He’d quarreled with his ex-partner, fists had been flung before Tuke Walson landed them both in campus detention. Lustful memories of our night together, the way his hands swept me into him, his hungry kisses, put me on a delusional cloud, and despite everything, I thought he’d call. Say, Hi. Billy Ray is an asshole. I made it home. I miss you. That sort of thing.
The phone rang. On this rare occasion, I was alone before I left for class, and I answered it, surprised to hear the voice on the other end.
“Hey there, Raz, how are things?”
“Nash Wilson, long time no speak.” Which was best for all parties. “Staying outta trouble?”
“Depends on your definition of trouble.”
“I’d love to shoot the shit, but I’m out the door. Do you need bail money or something?”
“No, but I’ll remember to call you when I do. Is Katie Lee around?”
“No.”
“Give her a message. Tell her I’m gonna be in town around Saint Patrick’s.”
“Sorry, but she won’t be here. It’s spring break, and we’ll be out of town.”
There was a pause on the line.
“Just tell her I called.”
Nash had been out of the picture all year, and now he planned to weasel his way back into her life. Yeah, right. After hanging up, I left the dorm, and my mind blanked out the conversation. I had a problem. Actually several. But the one that currently hogged the most brain space was Jackson Kimball. There was no denying that being with him was fun and edgy. We both had held back our attraction as a means of protection until the electricity that sparked between us combusted. Now that I’d slept with him, I was even more screwed. I didn’t need an education to know that hopes of a relationship would be an unhappening event: he didn’t live on campus or remotely close, he dabbled in questionable business ventures, and, from all I knew, had connections that I was better off not knowing about. Deep inside, past all the layers of confusion, my subconscious knew that anything lasting with Jackson Kimball wasn’t in the cards, but I couldn’t help speculating otherwise. To combat my Bubba blues, I needed a distraction. One that involved consuming large quantities of fruity spiked beverages, severing my ability to pronounce or remember his name. Tonight I had plans to hang out with the girls at our local, the Holiday Inn.
On the plus side, I didn’t think I’d see Billy Ray. He’d been sneaking around, and now he’d been slapped with a fresh set of charges, which put my mind at ease, a little. Throwing fists at Bubba and being busted outside my dorm had inconvenienced his freedom, dented his wallet with legal fees, and should’ve noosed any lame-brain ideas he might have had.
On the minus, since Francine had walked in on Bubba and me, both half naked, she’d been speaking to me in Tarzan. Mostly grunts, a few huffs of air, and occasional one-word commentary. She and I always had words, even if they were angry, and I worried that my bed partner choice had thrown a permanent divider between our friendship.
Midweek Katie Lee walked with me to campus and tried to cheer my spirits. “Francine’s silent treatment is like a solar eclipse; it doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s like a force of nature.”
“I get that she’s mad at me for sleeping with Bubba, but punishing me for being with a guy? She’s not my mother.” Not that I have one who cares anymore.
“She’s pissed because Bubba was part of the ring forging her great-grandmother Hunter’s paintings. She thinks that you being around him is a prescription for disaster.”
“Is that what you think, too?”
Slipping on a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses, Katie Lee fiddled inside her backpack. “Jackson Kimball’s like a raccoon. Big brown eyes, cute nose and mouth. Despite being all charming on the outside, he’s a forager, and underneath he’s surreptitious and cunning. Last year, you warned me about Nash, now I’m warning you about Bubba.”
“Is that the allure of southern men? Or just the ones I like?”
“Rach, think this one through. What do you want from Jackson Kimball? Ask yourself if he’s capable of giving what you desire?”
“I don’t know that I want anything from him.” In a small voice I said, “I just kinda like him.”
Katie Lee stopped outside the humanities building where she had a class. “That’s obvious.”
“The thing with Jackson was a fluke. He caught me at a weak moment. I’m still freaked by the old partnership and the fight between him and Billy Ray. There’s something between them I don’t want any part of.”
“Billy Ray’s kettle’s been settled. There’s no way you’ll be seein’ him again.”
“He’s not safe to be around. I’d feel better if I had proof that he’ll never bother me again.”
NOTE TO SELF
My Valentine sugar rush has crashed.