“My dream job is being a driver for those shuttles from the airport.”
–Overheard at Comic-Con
“Dearly beloved, we thank you for this meal and for our time together on this earth. For the grass that grows, and the crows that sing,” she pauses, “thank you, Lord, for everything.”
Grace’s hand squeezes mine before she releases me. “Amen. Very poetic, Granny.”
“Do you think so? I reckon I could write my own sermons. I should give Pastor Michael a call.”
“So Granny, what did you do while we were gone?” Grace’s innocent smile and fluttering eyes fool no one.
“Oh, you know, just hung around the house. Did some chorin’ and all that.”
“Uh-huh. You know, Granny,” Grace spears some okra with her fork, “you’ve been disappearing a lot after supper and I can’t find you anywhere.”
“I got errands to run.” She fiddles with her napkin, moving it from the side of her plate to her lap.
Grace wrinkles her nose. “What errands?”
“None of your never mind. I don’t need permission from anyone to have my own time, let alone from a child. Fred, pass the gravy, please. Did I mention your mother called? She wants you to call her back when you get a chance.”
“Okaaay.” It’s Sunday, I always talk to them on Sundays. Granny knows that. “I’ll call her after dinner.” I hand her the gravy boat.
The change of subject doesn’t deter Grace. “Nothing is open in Blue Falls past seven except the diner and Bodean’s. So what kind of errands could you be running?”
Granny chews her food, taking her time to respond. “It’s a card night. With my friends. Pinochle.”
Grace and I exchange a glance.
“You have friends?” Grace asks.
I take a drink of water. I am not getting into this one.
Granny puts her fork down. “I’m very well liked.”
“You called Miss Prudence two bricks shy of a load,” Grace says.
“So?”
“You yelled it. Out loud. At church.”
Granny shrugs. “It’s only the truth. And it doesn’t mean I’m not well liked. But no matter. Fred girl, how’s the okra? Too much salt?”
Before I can answer, Grace opens her mouth to interrupt—probably with more questions—and Granny fixes her with a hard stare. “I may not have brought you into this world, but I can take you right out of it.”
Grace’s mouth closes with a click. Then she throws her head back and laughs.
“Death threats are what make you happy, huh?” I take a bite of mashed potatoes smothered in gravy.
Grace shrugs. “I’ve heard other kids’ parents tell them the same thing. Never thought anyone would care enough to threaten me with bodily harm for misbehaving. Will you pass the biscuits?”
After talking to my parents and assuring them that I’m still alive, healthy, and not wasting the entirety of my life in a hick town in Texas while living off the kindness of others, I spend the rest of the night hiding from everyone in my room. Once it’s dark enough, I climb out the bedroom window with a blanket and pillow.
But once I’m in my normal position, gazing up at the sky above, I don’t even register the stars. Instead, images from the night before flood my mind. The kissing. The talking. The everything else.
I shut my eyes and attempt to banish the memories from my brain. I need something else to think about.
Grace’s words at dinner come to mind. I recognize her badgering of Granny for what it is: a test. She presses Granny to the breaking point to see how she’ll respond. With discipline? With banishment? Or worse, with nothing at all? But Granny cares. She won’t kick Grace out. Granny won’t be sending Grace away no matter how badly she behaves—fake threats of violence notwithstanding.
My childhood was like growing up in Themyscira compared to hers. I am the luckiest person, with every opportunity, every privilege thrust at me like it’s mana raining from the sky. Parents who are always there, an education I didn’t have to work too hard for, food always on the table, and a roof over my head whenever I need it.
And yet here I am, moping about my lack of job prospects and life problems. The reality is hard to stomach, but necessary. The only thing that’s ever really held me back is my own dumb decisions.
This revelation is still slopping shame all over me when the window below opens and there’s a gentle tap on my foot.
I sit up, wrapping my arms around my legs. Over the edge of the roof, Beast’s head appears.
Not like a disembodied head or anything. His head is followed by his shoulders and the rest of his large form, hauling himself up onto the roof in one smooth movement. He sits next to me, taking up most of the small space.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and types into it before showing me the screen. Checking on you.
A laugh huffs out of me. Of course. “Who checks on you?”
He freezes.
“Never mind. I’m stargazing while I can, because once I go back . . .” I trail off on a shrug.
We sit side by side in silence for long minutes. Despite last night, it’s not uncomfortable like I might have expected, even though we’re basically in the same position as we were when things went haywire. Sexy haywire.
He taps something out on his phone and shows it to me.
Did you tell your parents about the job interview today?
My head snaps up. “Did Grace blab? I’m gonna put toothpaste in her shampoo bottle.”
I swear his mouth turns up, but it’s hard to see for sure in the moonlight.
“I didn’t tell them. It was too embarrassing.” And if Grace is going to spill my secrets, I don’t feel so bad about spilling what she revealed. “Grace told me you applied to a culinary school in Dallas.”
He’s still again. Then he types, I didn’t get in.
“You could apply again. You know, there’s a really good one in New York. The Culinary Institute of America, the CIA. Wouldn’t it be pretty badass to tell people you go there?”
Can’t leave Grace and Jude. They’re my only family. You have your parents, I have them.
“I get it.” Though I don’t like it. Why can’t they move for him if he would stay for them?
Blue Falls might not be the best, but it’s something. Maybe I’ll open a restaurant someday or maybe I’ll take over your job at Bodean’s when you leave.
“Usurper,” I accuse. Then I nudge him with my elbow. “It’s an assistant type job, but Lucas is talented. And you would be good at it.”
Maybe.
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
He huffs out a breath. Points at his mouth.
“That’s not an impediment. Most people talk too much, and then they don’t shut up and ramble out nonsense.”
I’m not sure I’ve met anyone that meets that description.
“Hardy har har.”
I can’t see his face in the dim light, just the edge of his profile limned in moonlight. I wish I could make him understand his own potential. I can’t let him make the same mistakes I made.
“Because of Jack, I put aside all of my aspirations or thoughts of doing anything for myself. No.” I shake my head. “That’s not right, because of myself, I made the awful decision to put Jack first. The problem was he was putting Jack first, too. I put everything into our relationship. If I had made myself a priority, or recognized my own value and had the strength to stand up for myself, I wouldn’t be here.”
He jabs his phone with hard fingers. Jack was an idiot.
“Agreed.”
Even a friend wouldn’t ask you to give things up for them.
“You’re probably right. But it was my fault, too. Don’t make my mistakes. Beast, I care about you and I want you to put you first.”
It’s not that easy.
He’s typing again, so I’m watching over his shoulder when his phone lights up with an incoming text.
I can’t wait to see you!!! Where are you taking me on our first date? You should pick somewhere we get to dress up!! Or maybe go dancing!!!
Followed by heart eye emoji and a woman dancing in a red dress emoji.
The words are as welcome as a screw twisting in my stomach.
In the dim light, his jaw is hard and unsmiling. What is he thinking? He’s not the type to go for a fancy dinner and dancing. I don’t know how I know that, but I just do. Having to talk to people, order food, drive Caroline somewhere while she bears the brunt of holding up their conversation and all that considering they barely know each other . . .
But I can’t tell what’s going through his mind. He stares at the phone. Then he switches over to the notepad app. Maybe I should break it off.
My response is automatic, even though it kills me to say it, the words like spitting shards of glass. “No. Don’t do that. We’ll figure something else out that’s not so . . . complicated. Something she’ll enjoy that you’re comfortable with, too.”
He pauses for a long moment, head tilted back, staring up at the sky. He’s a statue of tension for a full minute before he takes a breath and types again.
You think she’ll be open to an alternate suggestion?
“Probably. She clearly likes you a lot.” I can’t believe I’m defending her. The last thing I want is to see her hanging all over Beast at work, but that isn’t fair. We may be diametrically opposed foes, but Beast’s happiness is more important to me than my own vicious jealousy.
There are other issues.
“What do you mean?”
I’ve noticed she can be . . . rude. Not to me, but to others.
“You mean at Bodean’s.”
He nods.
“Yeah, I’ve served her before. But she was with her friends and probably distracted. Besides, I’m a Yank and sometimes the Southern hospitality is so overdone it all feels condescending. I’m used to New Yorkers yelling at me on the street for getting into the taxi they wanted. Not all that ‘bless your heart’ when it really means you’re an ass.”
His lips twitch, but he’s distracted, his gaze glued to the phone. He flips back over to the text conversation and stares at it, fingers unmoving.
“Tell her you’ll plan a surprise. Then you can get all dressed up and make her a fancy meal yourself with your mad cooking skills. You can plan for it somewhere romantic, but you won’t have to try and communicate with other people and make it complicated. It’ll be great.” I force enthusiasm into my tone, but the words are strained.
He follows my direction and is rewarded with even more exclamation points and emojis.
Yep. It will be super-duper great.
I’ve got a front row seat to Beast’s love life, a demise of my own making. Every text, every piece of advice, every question on how to be with her, they’re all like the sharpest of filleting knives, slicing a little further.
Thank you for helping me.
Slice.