Rebel Love, Page 3

  I stepped closer, also not wanting Penny to hear what I needed to say. "She's sixteen."

  "Yeah? And?"

  "Just reminding you that she's not an adult, and you are well into adulthood. So even though she looks twenty-one in those short shorts, she's not."

  "There's no law against looking."

  "Well, maybe there should be."

  "Wow, Mr. High and Mighty walked in this morning with a large metal rod jammed up his ass. What's the matter? No sex now that Tory and you are done?"

  "Never fucking mind." I turned back to the wine rack.

  "As I recall, you never had a problem with looking when Rebecca was sixteen and wearing short shorts."

  I twisted back around with a wine bottle clutched tightly in my hand. "That was a little different."

  "How's that?"

  "Because when she was sixteen, I was eighteen."

  "And you were engaged to Emily."

  "We were never engaged and you know that." The wine sloshed in the bottle as I moved my arms in anger. What I wanted to do was crown him with the fucking thing. We were close enough friends that we could say pretty much anything to each other. While things sometimes got heated, we both usually cooled off fast. But there was no damn reason for him to start in on the past. "Why the hell are your bringing up Emily and Rebecca? Or are you just grabbing at any piece of defense you can find?"

  "Guess I was just thinking about Becca because you said she called. Besides, I'm just trying to prove a point."

  I stared at him and gave a sharp shrug of my shoulders. "What point?"

  "That you look too, so don't be such a fucking prick about it. You're no saint."

  "Never said I was. But that has nothing to do with you and your cock checking out a sixteen-year-old. Just get the fuck out of here and get lunch before I throw this damn bottle across the room."

  "Yep, I'm out of here. And you should find yourself some new pussy soon because you're an uptight asshole when you're not getting any."

  "You worry about your own cock and keep your mind off of mine. Dick."

  "Penny, let's go." Dylan grabbed his keys off the hook on the wall so hard, the hook broke free from the wood. He kicked the hook across the cement floor of the storage room.

  I unpacked the wine as I listened to them walk out the back door. There was no way Penny didn't hear us, but I wasn't going to worry about it. But the fight had brought me back to thinking about Rebecca. It had been three days since she called. I'd left her two messages, but she never called back. I just hoped she wasn't getting herself into trouble. Something she used to be really good at.

  Chapter 5

  Joshua

  Seven years earlier

  She'd turned sixteen but that didn't stop Rebecca from putting on a glittery plastic crown and long strands of dress-up pearls to open her presents. After spending a day at the beach with her friends, she insisted she only wanted her family at her birthday dinner. I was included in that circle.

  Emily had decorated the dining room with gold and pink balloons, Rebecca's favorite colors, and she'd hand painted a sweet sixteen birthday sign. Carl, Rebecca's dad, had set up a camera tripod to take pictures. Emily's mom, Michelle, had baked Rebecca's favorite brown sugar molasses cake. It was topped with gold and pink candles.

  There was no denying that Rebecca liked being the center of attention. She sat on the dining room chair with her lopsided plastic crown and suntanned shoulders and legs jutting out from a pale pink sundress. She ripped through her packages of colored pencils, makeup and clothes, shrieking with delight at each gift. The back door opened and shut as she pulled the paper off some music CDs. Dylan had been out of town for several weeks, supposedly working at a construction site, only he looked too pale and too rested for that. He had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the doorway.

  "Dylan, honey, you made it." Michelle hopped up from her chair and gave him a hug.

  "So glad you could make time in your busy schedule," Emily teased. She reached over and took hold of my hand.

  "Hey, birthday girl." Dylan leaned down to give Rebecca a kiss on the cheek. She lifted the side of her face but couldn't pull her attention away from her presents long enough to say hello or look at him, even after he set his gift, a small silver wrapped box, down in front of her.

  "Sixteen going on ten," Emily whispered my direction.

  I smiled thinking how wrong that assessment seemed. Sometimes Rebecca's wildness and lack of inhibition made her seem young, but when we talked seriously about things, like about friendships or losing her mom or gaining a whole new family, she was mature and full of intuition and insight. And the fact that she no longer looked like a little girl, at all, not even in a plastic crown and fake pearls, made that assessment seem even more wrong. Carl had complained to me that the boys were constantly circling the house like sharks around prey, and he was plenty upset about it too. I advised him against the shotgun, reminding him it would only land him in jail and he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her from his cell.

  I had jammed my present for Rebecca next to me on the chair. The rest of the presents were wrapped with crisp, shiny wrapping paper and bows. All we had in the closet at home was some faded Christmas wrapping paper that must have been at least twelve years old since that was how long it had been since my mom moved out. I decided to use some of the pages from the last issue of Rolling Stone that were strewn out over the floor in my room. It went well with my gift theme.

  Rebecca was down to just Dylan's gift. She picked up the slim box.

  Emily sat forward with profound interest. "Ooh, looks like jewelry." She winked my direction. "You know how I love those tiny gift boxes with glittery things inside."

  The silver paper fell away revealing a black velvet box.

  "Hey," Emily protested before the box was even opened. "You never give me jewelry, you jerk."

  Rebecca opened the box. Dylan waited for Rebecca's reaction, which was, for lack of a better word, subdued, especially compared to the song and dance routine she'd done when she got the flat iron she'd been wanting 'since forever'.

  "Thank you, Dylan, but you shouldn't have. It's too expensive, and I might lose it."

  "Let's see, Rebecca," Michelle said.

  Rebecca turned the box around. Emily nearly upended her chair as she raced over to get a look at the glittery gold bracelet.

  Michelle and Emily spent the next few minutes gushing over the bracelet. Emily even tried it on as Rebecca looked on with little interest. I decided with everyone's attention diverted, I could slip Rebecca my much less stellar present.

  "Didn't have any wrapping paper, or box, or ribbon for that matter. Just a lot of tape." I handed her the gift.

  Rebecca held her crown in place as she smiled up at me. "Rolling Stone magazine? Awesome wrapping paper." Much to my dismay, everyone's attention had turned back to Rebecca with the tearing of paper.

  Emily stood behind me to look past my shoulder. She wrapped her hands around my arm as she pressed against me.

  Rebecca shrieked as she held up the Iron Maiden t-shirt. Emily tensed up behind me. Her hands fell away from my arm.

  Rebecca jumped to her feet and held the t-shirt against her. "It's finally mine. The coveted t-shirt is mine." She screamed and hugged me. "I'm putting it on right now." She raced off to her room and left behind an awkward silence.

  Michelle finally broke the quiet with a dry laugh. "That's Becca. Leaves the gold bracelet in the box and races off to pull on an old t-shirt. But still, it was sweet of you, Josh. I know how much she liked that shirt, and I know it was probably hard for you to give up."

  "It was getting kind of small on me." I decided to break the tension in the room with some comedy. I lifted my arm and did a curl. "These darn muscles are always getting in the way."

  Dylan's laugh was completely devoid of amusement. "Yeah, I'll bet. Any beer, Mom?"

  "Yes, in the refrigerator."

  Dylan walked out of the room. Carl busied him
self with the camera, and Michelle began collecting the wrapping paper. Which left Emily and me. Her mood had definitely darkened.

  "I must have sent you a dozen links for things I knew Rebecca would like, and you wrap up that tattered old shirt."

  I turned to her. "I thought you'd be happy. Now you won't see me wearing it anymore. Why are you so upset? I'll buy her something else from one of the links if it'll make you happy."

  The curls at the end of her hair bounced as she shook her head. "No, that's not the point."

  "Then what is the point? I'm sorry if you didn't like my gift. But I was thinking of Rebecca, not you, when I came up with the idea."

  "Right," she huffed. "Whatever. Mindy still wants us to come over later. They are going to set up a projector in her backyard so we can watch movies. It's our last get together before we split off for college."

  "I don't think so. My dad was really down tonight. I'm going to head home early."

  I caught the slightest eye roll. Emily had little sympathy for my dad because he tended to drown all his sorrows in booze, and she thought that made him weak. I just thought it made him seem extra worthy of empathy and support.

  Michelle returned from the kitchen to gather up the dishes.

  "I'll help in just a second, Mom. I'm just walking Josh out."

  Michelle was always tuned into things. I was sure she knew that Emily and I were having a tense moment . . . again. But she plastered on a mom smile. "Oh, are you leaving so soon, Josh?"

  "Yes, my dad's not feeling well. Thanks again. The dinner and cake were delicious."

  "You're welcome, sweetie, and say hello to your dad."

  Emily took my hand and led me to the front room where we were out of earshot of mom and dad ears.

  "What?" I asked point blank. "What has you in such a fit, Em? It can't just be the damn t-shirt."

  Her lashes fluttered to dry up pending tears. I had a tough time of it when she cried. She was good at it and she knew exactly when to bring on the glassy gaze and tiny sniffles. But I just didn't deserve a cry scene tonight.

  She sniffled. "I could have gotten into any college, but I chose the local university so I could still see you. And now you're planning some cross country road trip with the band. And you don't even have shows lined up in most of those states."

  "I told you we're going to line things up as we go. It's a way to get our name out there." I should have stopped there, but lately, I didn't seem to know how to keep shit to myself when it came to our relationship. "And I didn't tell you to stay in town for college." Yep, wanted to suck the words right back in, but the ship had sailed. Emily's lashes fluttered faster.

  I reached for her hand, but she pulled it brusquely away. "Em, I didn't mean that."

  "Sure you did. Whatever. Good night then." She turned on her heels and walked back into the dining room to help her mom. I took it as my cue to leave.

  The evening had started out all right, but then it crashed and burned big time.

  I headed out onto the porch. The sun had just set, and the summer bugs were getting their last few minutes of freedom before the bats came out from hiding. I waved my hand in front of my face to scare away the gnats and headed down the steps. The front door opened and shut behind me.

  "Wait, Josh. Are you leaving already?" Rebecca's face was pure disappointment.

  "Sorry, Rebel, my dad's not feeling great."

  The disappointment turned to concern, and as always, it was genuine. You never got fake or bullshit with Rebecca. She wore every emotion right out there for the world to see. It was one of the things I admired most about her. I wasn't sure if she'd lose that quality as she got older. I hoped not.

  She walked onto the top step. "That's too bad. I know how down he gets. He really is a true romantic, still pining for the one woman he ever loved, even after all these years."

  "And even after she left him with credit card debt, two sons and a broken heart." Rebecca knew that I had no real love for my mom. It was hard to work up affection for the woman who'd so easily left behind her family to marry a man with more money and better future prospects. Rebecca's parents had divorced when she was young too, but it was a shared decision. They both knew they'd married the wrong person. Unfortunately for my dad, that thought still hadn't occurred to him. He was still convinced my mom was the only person worthy of his love.

  Rebecca deftly changed the subject to the t-shirt. She smoothed her hands down along the cool phantom graphic on the front of the shirt, and I worked hard not to notice her palms smooth over her breasts and the concave hollow of her stomach. The colors on the shirt had faded, but the picture was still bold enough to see every detail.

  "It looks better on you," I noted. "I'm glad it has a new owner who will take good care of it."

  She lifted her face to mine, and we looked at each other a few seconds longer than necessary before I pulled my gaze away. With no other place to look, I glanced into the front window. Carl was concentrating on his task of taking the camera off the tripod.

  "Your dad loves this camera thing, doesn't he?"

  Rebecca glanced back toward the window. "It's his newest hobby. I'm glad he's so happy here with Michelle. He really needed this. I would never want to do anything to mess it up."

  I smiled. "What could you possibly do to mess things up? Be too damn adorable? Too smart? Too full of bubbly energy?" Stupidly, I went on with my list and didn't notice that her smile had faded away, along with the usual green glitter in her eyes.

  "Rebel? Are you all right?"

  "Huh? Yeah. I'm good," she said, sounding the complete opposite of good.

  I opened my mouth to continue prodding, but her attention was snatched away by a loud, obnoxious car horn. Tyler Franks lived next door to me. He had just turned sixteen and had managed to buy himself the loudest, smokiest old Mustang in existence. It was a convertible, only the soft top was long gone. Two of his usual goober friends were sitting in the car with him. Tyler made a show of tossing an empty beer can into the backseat.

  "Hey, Becca, we're going to drive up to Lookout Point. Why don't you come along?"

  "Sounds fun."

  I turned back to her. "You're not getting in that car. Every time I see that guy, there's a new dent in that jalopy. There is a long winding road up to the Point."

  "It's my birthday. And you're leaving. And I think Em is heading out with her friends."

  She turned toward the house and yelled through the window. "Dad, I'm leaving with Tyler. Be back soon."

  Her dad didn't even look up from his camera. He just waved his hand in the window to let her know he'd heard her.

  "Rebecca," I said sternly, and even knowing I sounded like a strict dad, I didn't give a shit. "You're not going." I turned around. "Drive on, Tyler. She's not going."

  "Stay right there, Tyler." Rebecca jutted her chin in the air. "I'm going."

  "No, you're not."

  "How do you intend to stop me?"

  "Just watch me."

  She stared at me as if we were playing a game of chicken. Then she brushed past me and ran toward the car. I raced after her and caught up to her just as she reached for the car door.

  I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. I waved Tyler away. His tires screeched loudly as his car fishtailed around the corner.

  Rebecca pounded my back as I held her legs still to keep her from kicking me in the balls. I lowered her feet to the ground. She took the opportunity to pound my chest. "You jerk. Ugh. You're a butthead."

  I stood in front of her and let her finish pummeling me until she wore herself out.

  "I hate you."

  "And yet, I stand by my decision to stop you."

  She turned sharply on her heels and stomped back up the steps. But she stopped at the top to look back at me. "Thanks for the shirt . . . butthead. It's my favorite gift."

  "You're welcome."

  The evening replayed in my head as I walked up the cement path to my house. The television light flickered
out over the yard, but the sound was muffled by my dad's loud snores. I tried to sneak in without waking him. But even as drunk as he no doubt was, he heard me shut the door.

  He startled out of his deep sleep and knocked the book he'd been holding off his lap. It took him some effort to straighten his reading glasses over his eyes. "Joshua, you're home. Must have dozed off. Guess my book is more of a bore than a thriller."

  I leaned down and picked up the book. The empty whiskey bottle was turned on its side next to his easy chair, bone dry. The yellowish cast in his skin grew more noticeable each day, but he shrugged it off as too much work and not enough time in the fresh air.

  As I lifted the book to his lap, a picture fluttered out. I recognized it by the missing corner and the fold on one side. It was one of my mom standing next to the sold sign in front of the house. She was wearing white shorts and a blue shirt, and her thick brown hair was pulled back by a white hair band. My dad had touched the photo so often he had nearly worn her face away with his thumb.

  A short, slightly embarrassed laugh vibrated his belly beneath his undershirt. "I forgot I stuck that thing in between the pages. Just using it as a bookmark," he said quickly.

  "Dad, it's all right. I know you carry that picture around. I just wish you could take her off that pedestal."

  "I know. I'm an old fool." It was the same conversation we'd had a million times. I didn't know why I bothered to say it. He always had the same answer.

  He scooted up in his easy chair and it shifted side to side, not so much from his weight but because the chair was slowly losing its ability to be easy . . . and a chair, for that matter. It needed badly to be thrown out, but I knew that would never happen.

  "By the way, Jeremy called. He and Katherine are having another baby."

  "Shit, never pictured Jeremy with a house full of kids. Good for him. Well, I'm going to bed, Dad. Good night."