He was driving home when he spotted someone up ahead walking along the side of the road. The blond hair caught his eye and rang a bell somewhere in his brain. The air had a bite to it that had stung his cheeks as he walked through the parking lot on the way to his car. Late winter in Minnesota still felt a lot like the dead of winter, and the cold was not something to mess with. He pulled up next to her and slowed the car. She was wearing a thin coat, no hat. Tennis shoes on her feet. She whipped her head toward the car, looking cautious, defensive. Ready to fight. The look turned fearful when he rolled down the window. “Hey, do you need a ride?”
She must have recognized him, because a look of relief spread across her face and she said, “That would be great.” She flung open the door and settled herself into the seat next to him.
“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said.
“No, it’s just … you’re not the first person who’s ever offered me a ride.” She didn’t elaborate at the time, but eventually he would learn of her mother’s unreliability and how there had been times others slowed down the way Josh had. At best, she said, the person behind the wheel wouldn’t look as if they cared too much about her welfare but didn’t have the heart not to at least check on her. At worst, it was a man whose inquiry had more of a self-serving angle to it. She told Josh she never accepted rides from adult men. Kimmy might not have been especially book smart, but there was nothing wrong with her common sense and she had no desire to make the front page of the newspaper when it announced the discovery of her body buried in a shallow grave somewhere.
“It’s really cold out. I don’t think it’s good to be outside for so long.”
“No, probably not. My mom must have gotten held up at work.”
“Which way?” he asked.
“Keep going straight. My house isn’t that far from here.”
“I’m Josh.”
“Kimmy,” she said, holding her hands in front of the heat vents.
“I saw you in detention.”
“I saw you too.” The mischievous smile was back.
“What’d you do?”
“Didn’t turn in my homework. What did you do?”
“I cut out of class.”
“I cut all the time. That’s why I don’t turn in my homework and I’m always in detention.”
“I went to class, but I jumped out the window.”
“No way,” she said, looking at him with something like admiration, as if his impulsivity was a plus to her.
“The teacher turned his back and by the time he turned back around, I had the window open. It was a bit of a drop and I hit the ground harder than I meant to, but it was worth it. It’s just so boring in class. I couldn’t sit there for another minute.”
“So boring,” she echoed. “Turn here. That’s me on the right. Second house.”
He pulled to a stop in her driveway. The home was much smaller than the one he lived in. The paint, which had probably once been white, was grayish and peeling.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said.
“Yeah, no problem.” She opened the door and hurried up the sidewalk, slipping and sliding on the snow and ice that looked like it had been there awhile.
Too late, he realized he should have asked for her phone number and her last name. His detention was more than likely a one-time thing. His parents might have been tired, but if he’d gotten into any kind of regular trouble, his dad would have set him straight. His mom, too. With such a large student body, the odds of bumping into her again weren’t great, which was a damn shame, because he wouldn’t have minded that at all.
chapter 5
Layla
On Saturday, Layla slept in and then changed into an old pair of jeans and the torn and faded Rolling Stones concert T-shirt she’d been wearing since she’d bought it after their show in 2002 and refused to ever part with. Hers was authentic, unlike the current iteration she’d seen on the rack at Target.
She made several trips down to the basement carrying armfuls of supplies: carpet knife, work gloves, bucket of soapy water, paint can, rollers. Her house had been built sometime in the early nineties, and there was an additional living space down there, not that she had much need for it. But what did interest her was the twelve-by-fourteen half-finished room meant for storage. Its poured-concrete walls would provide adequate soundproofing. One egress window at ground level let in a bit of natural light, but it was only a single pane and might allow too much noise to escape. She wouldn’t know until she tested its limits. The ceiling wasn’t as high as she’d like, but it would do.
Layla took the ponytail holder from her wrist, pulled her hair into a knot on top of her head, and got to work.
* * *
By evening, the basement space looked a lot different than it did when she started the project. The old, stained carpet had been cut into strips, ripped up, and put in the garage for the time being. She’d cleared the cobwebs from the corners of the walls and washed the window and window well. The glass sparkled. She’d swept the concrete floor after pulling up the old carpet tack strips, and she daydreamed about what kind of flooring she’d choose. She preferred wood, but low-pile carpeting would make things more comfortable. Now, with the area cleaned and prepped, Layla could truly begin the transformation. Whether that meant the room or herself was anyone’s guess.
* * *
It turned out that Liam Cook hadn’t been interested in a relationship either, but that was mostly because he was already in one. The second time Layla ran into him, a girl named Suzanne, whom she’d known since they were seven, was sitting on his lap.
The ugly lights had come on and the bouncers had begun the thankless task of herding a large number of intoxicated customers toward the door. Layla had finished chatting and posing for pictures and was on her way to the bar for a cold beer when Suzanne yelled her name. Layla looked at Suzanne and thought the guy whose lap she was sitting on looked vaguely familiar, although it took her a few seconds to place him. When Liam put two and two together and realized that Suzanne knew Layla, he’d stood up so fast that Suzanne tumbled from his lap and barely avoided falling on her ass. Once Suzanne righted herself, she enveloped Layla in a hug. “Oh, wow. You’re kind of sweaty.”
“Yeah, that happens when I play for forty minutes straight.”
“Layla and I go way back,” Suzanne said. She slung her arm around Liam’s neck. “This is Liam. We’re dating.”
“Yep,” Layla said. “We’ve met.”
“Hey,” Liam said.