Jordyn is absent from work the next day. I find myself wishing she were here. Henry’s in an unusually bad mood, so I don’t dare ask why she isn’t. But I’m feeling kind of off.
On my way to the bathroom between retouches, I catch Henry arguing into his cell. I make out something about Jordyn doing something he’s less than thrilled with. As horrible as it is, I’m kind of happy about that—not that he’s mad at Jordyn, but that they don’t have an absolutely perfect relationship.
With Henry’s mood, I don’t want him to catch me doing something not work related, so I figure I can’t take too long to calm myself down. I’m not even sure why I’m so worked up. Maybe I have, like, a Pavlovian response to anger. I splash some cold water on my face and run my wet fingers through my hair, reminding myself that I need this job and that Henry’s not my dad and that he would never act like him in a million years.
I open the door to find a very unhappy Henry. “Did you encourage her to rekindle things with that ex of hers?”
“What?” I’m getting a bit of a Deliverance vibe off him. I back into the bathroom.
He follows me in. “I saw you two talking at the wedding and then next thing she’s dancing with that Mike kid.”
How is this my fault? I try to recall our conversation last night, but the walls are closing in and the piss smell of the toilet is making me want to vomit and Henry looks like he’s about to rip my head off. Henry is not like Dad. Henry is not like Dad.
His phone rings. I think about using the distraction to get the fuck out of here, but once he realizes it’s Jordyn on the other end, he stands in the doorway deliberately trapping me.
“Where the hell were you? Your mother was a wreck all night thinking something happened to you.”
Henry glares at me as he listens to her response. I feel like I’m on trial for something I have no idea I’ve done.
“Aslan called us. Said you didn’t come home.”
His glare intensifies as he listens.
“He is. And he didn’t bother saying anything to me about that. He has some serious explaining to do, if you ask me.”
I swallow the golf ball in my throat.
“This ain’t over,” Henry says into the phone before thrusting it at my chest, about knocking the wind out of me. He storms out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
I stare at the phone until I hear Jordyn on the other end telling me to pick it up.
“Um?”
“I’m so sorry, Tyler! I’m so, so, so sorry!”
“What’s going on?”
“I told Henry I was with you last night. Will you please, please, please go with it? I’ll owe you.”
“Are you fucking crazy? He already went on a rant about your ex. I’m not telling him you were with me last night.”
“Not like that. I told my mom that I had a little champagne at the reception and that you were taking me home and I begged you not to take me to my dad’s house because I didn’t want him to see me drunk, so I stayed at your house to sleep it off.”
“And this will make them hate me less, how?”
“Please, Tyler?”
“I need this job, Jordyn.”
“I swear my mom will calm Henry down. It’ll be fine. I’ll even tell them Mike tried to make me go home with him, but you intervened, and you can be the hero. Please?”
Of course I’m going to help her, but I’ll make her sweat a little first.
“Please?” Her voice has taken on a tone of desperation I didn’t think she was capable of.
“Fine.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank—”
“One condition.”
“Anything.”
“Tell me where you really were,” I tease.
“Shut up.” I can practically hear her turn red.
“You little slut.”
“Really? You’re going to call me a slut?” She’s back to normal.
“I hope you at least—”
“I’m not an idiot. Of course we used condoms.”
“Good for you. But what I was going to say is, I hope you at least enjoyed yourself.” My face is starting to hurt from smiling.
“I, um, well, it’s really none of your business, but yes I did enjoy myself.” I can all but feel the heat from her blush through the phone and it’s killing me. I am loving this. Oh, how the tables have turned. “At least, I enjoyed myself until this morning when I remembered how things used to be.”
“Well, you want to know something really messed up?”
“Of course.”
“I . . . I really miss you here.”
She goes silent.
“Henry’s really fucking scary when he’s angry!”
“Oh, god. Tyler, I really, really owe you. I’m taking you to dinner. Someplace nice. Your choice.”
“It’s a date.”
She’s silent again.
“Don’t be so literal,” I say. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. And I’ll start making a list of places I’ve always wanted to try but didn’t have the money.”
“Thanks again.” She hangs up.
“Anytime,” I say to myself.
TWENTY-THREE