I go upstairs to change and come back downstairs just in time to hear the obnoxious wail of the horn on his Jeep.
I sit on the couch and smooth out my dress. I will not be summoned outside. I wait for a minute or two, expecting to hear his knock, but instead, I hear the Jeep pulling out of the driveway. Before he can leave, I jump up and race outside.
“You’re such an asshole,” I say, throwing myself into the front seat. He pulls a face at me to show his displeasure.
“I’m not playing games with you, Leah. Don’t you get tired of always trying to win?”
“No,” I snap. “That would make me a loser.”
He shakes his head and turns up the music to drown out anything else I might want to say. I sit quietly and smoke. I don’t know where we are going, but I’m glad to be out of the house that’s saturated with way too many memories. I want … I need to be Caleb-free for a few hours. Get back to my roots.
I turn down the radio. Fuck Coldplay. What the hell type of spell do they have on everyone? Artsy fartsy juju. When Caleb comes home I’m going to make him throw away all of their CDs.
“Let’s do something fun.”
Sam runs a hand down his face. “I will take you home right now, and you can sit in your big, empty house and stew about your small, empty life. Do you understand?”
“God, you’re a killjoy.” I pluck a piece of tobacco from my tongue and flick it out of the Jeep.
His words hurt me. Sam is a straight shooter, but right now I need to be coddled and told that I’m pretty.
Ten minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of a Wal-Mart.
My feet, which are resting on the dash, immediately come down. “Oh, hell no! I am not going in there.”
He shrugs and gets out of the car. “Sam!” I call after him. “Wal-Mart gives me hives.”
After a few seconds, I scramble out of the car and chase after him. I follow him to the back of the store where he throws a dozen green light bulbs into a cart and wheels maniacally toward the food section.
“Why do you need all of those Perriers?” I watch as he loads bottle after bottle into the cart, arranging them along the bottom so they won’t break.
“They’re for Cammie,” he says.
My eyes bug. ”You — are you … do you have to take them to her?”
“Yes, we’re going there next.”
I skip behind him in a panic as he makes his way toward the register. “Can you drop me at home first?”
The last thing I want to do is see that smug blonde face of hers. Bitch.
“We’re going there after this. She’s throwing a party and forgot to pick this stuff up.”
“Aren’t you the good, little cousin,” I grumble under my breath. Why did I let him convince me to come? I should have just stayed home like I wanted to.
As the stuff rolls along the conveyor belt, I toss on a package of mints. When Sam looks at me, I shrug.
I sit in coiled anxiety for the entire fifteen-minute drive. I eat mint after mint until the box is empty and my tongue is raw. Sam snatches the container from me, his eyes wide.
“Are you crazy? These are Altoids, not chocolate.”
I sit on my hands and look out the window. We are in Boca. Cammie’s house is in an upscale, gated neighborhood. Sam stops outside of a house with flowerboxes on the windows and jumps out. I scoot lower in my seat, though the open aired Jeep provides little place to hide.
“Hey,” He kicks the side of the car where I am sitting. “A little help.”
I glance over at him in disbelief. Did he really expect me to help him carry bags in there? He did. Oh shit.
He carries the bags to the side of the house and opens a gate that I presume leads to the backyard. I can do the backyard. I lower myself to the ground and grab a couple of bags from the trunk. I am mildly curious about what this party is for, anyway. As soon as I round the corner into the backyard, I walk into Cammie.
She gives me one wide-eyed look and screams Sam’s name. He comes running, his arms loaded with boxes.
“What is this?” Her voice is high pitched. “What is Dirty Red doing here?”
I shove the bags at her. Sam drops his boxes and gives Cammie a dirty look. “Caleb left her,” Sam says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Be nice.”
“He did not leave me,” I assure Cammie.
Cammie puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t care who left whom. Put those damn bottles over there.” She points to a table, and I carry them over. I sneak a look around. The yard is spacious. There is a pool in the shape of a lima bean and a hot tub. Men are setting up rented tables across the lawn, shaking out white linen tablecloths.
“Hi.”
I jump. A man comes up beside me carrying a huge speaker. He sets it on the table and smiles at me.
I eye him uncertainly. I’m not sure if I’m going to get yelled at for talking to him. Cammie is mildly insane. He is attractive. Everything about him is dark, aside from his blue eyes. I wonder idly if he’s part of the set-up crew for the party.
He extends his hand toward me, and without thinking, I take it.