“That’s the one,” Tate replied, looking smug.
I forgot to mention that Tate went to one of the most expensive and prestigious private high schools in Atlanta. His family was loaded which I guess, gave him license to act like a douchebag. For the most part he was harmless, but I feared one day he’d put his mouth on me without permission simply because it wouldn’t occur to him to ask first.
“Well, I imagine you work very hard,” Mr. Connelly said.
“Not really,” Tate replied.
Mr. Connelly looked at me, and I grinned. He grinned back like he knew what I was thinking. He showed Tate and me our “to do” list. We, along with Team 2, were in charge of Fanny Burken’s house.
“Ready?” Mr. Connelly asked.
I nodded and followed him down the street to house number 536.
“Tate, my black Volkswagen is just down the street there. Would you mind getting my tool bag?” Mr. Connelly asked, holding out his car keys.
Tate nodded and left, moving with no sense of urgency or care.
“Sending a tool to go get some tools,” I said. “Clever.”
Mr. Connelly chuckled. “That was the plan.” He winked at me. He seemed to always be winking at me. Oh, what the hell? I winked back, and he looked shocked. Wasn’t expecting that were you, Mr. Connelly?
“Mr. Connelly, why did you volunteer for this youth group project?” I asked, watching Tate saunter back up the road.
“Just trying to get involved,” Mr. Connelly replied.
“Yeah, but there are a million service organizations you could get involved in. Why our church? I mean, you’re not even a member, are you?”
“I’m sensing you don’t want me here,” Mr. Connelly said.
“No!” Yuck. That reaction was way too obvious. “No, it’s not that. Just curious, is all.”
“Well, if you must know, I’m just trying some stuff out. To see what I like. To see if there’s a place for me in your church.”
I had to hand it to him. He was good. But I didn’t believe him for a second that he wanted to find a place in my church. Something else was going on, and because I felt an undeniable attraction to him, I automatically assumed there was attraction on his end. He volunteered today because of me. That’s what I decided to believe. For someone who wasn’t generally full of herself, today I was bursting.
Fanny Burken was a sweet old lady who lived in a tiny house with about two working lights. Though she kept the house clean, it was falling into disrepair. We learned that her son recently died in a motorcycle accident, and he was her only family. She couldn’t reach the ceiling lights to change out the bulbs and had no one to help her maintain the house.
It was immediate: I went into Operation Fix It mode and ordered Tate to change out all the lights in the house. Then I went to the bathroom and scrubbed it from floor to ceiling. I don’t know why. The bathroom was clean, but I guess my time in juvie conditioned me to clean bathrooms when I needed work to do. It took me an hour and a half, and I didn’t mind.
I gathered all of the laundry with Fanny’s help and started the wash, then helped Mr. Connelly fix some leaky pipes.
“Cadence, my wrench is in the side pocket of my bag,” he said, lying on his back with his head under the kitchen sink.
I played assistant while Tate caulked Fanny’s tub and grouted some tile. Mr. Connelly had to show him how since Tate had never done a bit of manual labor in his life.
“Is this it?” I asked, holding up a tool with a circular attachment on the end.
“Sort of close. That’s a socket wrench,” he replied. “Don’t even know why that’s in my bag.”
He pulled himself out from under the sink and searched through the side pocket of his tool bag. He pulled out what he told me was a pipe wrench.
“Oh yeah. I’ve seen those before,” I said.
Mr. Connelly smiled and ducked back under the sink.
“You’re a good helper, Cadence,” he said.
I snorted. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Well, you’re keeping me company, and that’s nice,” he replied.
“Just until the sheets finish drying,” I said.
“And I appreciate it,” Mr. Connelly said. “Wanna shine a light for me?”
“Sure,” I replied, and fished around in his tool bag until I found a miniature flashlight. I hesitated for a second, realizing I’d have to sit very close to Mr. Connelly in order to shine the light on the pipes. The opening under the sink was tight, and he took up most of the space.
“Shine it right here over my face,” he said, watching the light bounce around the darkness as I positioned myself. I sat with my legs tucked under me, hunched over, leaning into his thigh. ‘That’s good,” he said. “Hold what you’ve got.”
I watched his arm muscle flex every time he worked the wrench. I felt the flexing in his thigh, too—how it went rigid then relaxed each time he tightened the bolt. And my body responded to him against my will. My brain screamed for me to stay still all the while I felt my weight shift, leaning further over, further into his body. It felt so good, my thigh pressed against his, and I closed my eyes, imagining how the feeling would be different if our legs were naked.
“Cadence?” I heard from far away.
I fought the urge to touch his leg. I wanted to more than anything. And not with my own leg. I wanted to reach out and run my hand along his thigh.
“Cadence?” The voice was coming closer.
I opened my eyes to see Mr. Connelly staring at me. His expression was unnerving, like he knew exactly what had been playing through my mind. But he wouldn’t dare say it out loud.
“The light?” he asked.
I hadn’t realized Id lowered the flashlight and aimed it back into position.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and looked over in the direction of the dryer when I heard it buzz.
“Just in time,” Mr. Connelly said. “All done.”