Smells good?
He looks at me and shrugs.
My girls rush to his sides, and Karen grabs the pie slicer from the cupboard and starts sawing into the so-called pie, while Kelly stands on her tiptoes to perilously pull plates out of the cupboard, until I rush over and grab them before they end up shattered on the floor.
“Why did you make me a pie?” Quentin asks.
“Um,” Karen says, at the height of her verbal powers.
It’s only now I notice that they’re both wearing dresses, and Kelly has a bow in her hair, and Karen has slopped on makeup in the way only a fourteen-year-old can.
What are they doing?
“Here you go,” Karen announces proudly as she deposits a slice of pie in front of Quentin.
“What is this, apple?”
“Yeah. We didn’t have any apples, so we used applesauce.”
Quentin and I both stare at her.
It doesn’t look like applesauce to me. It holds its shape well enough, for one thing.
“I like a slice of cheese on my apple pie.”
Before I can say anything, Kelly slams the block of cheese from the deli drawer onto the table and daintily peels off one slice, which Quentin lays on his pie before he cuts off the end with his fork and chews it.
I catch a momentary flash of disgust on his face before he forces a smile and takes another, big bite.
He coughs. “Can I have some milk?”
“Yeah, sure!” Kelly chirps.
I beat her to the fridge and pour a big glass myself, and he drinks half of it before he soldiers on through the rest of the pie, finally scooping up blackened shards of the outer crust with his fingers before drowning the last of it in the dregs of the milk. I pour him another glass before he even asks and he drinks most of it in one go then wipes his chin on his arm.
“Thanks,” he says. “So, Rose, you need a ride or not?”
“Yes,” Karen cuts in before I can answer. “To school, right?”
“Yes,” I sigh.
“See? She needs a ride,” Karen announces.
She starts to leave. “Young lady, I’m not done with you. We’re going to talk about skipping school, and trespassing.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Quentin interjects. “The trespassing part. She didn’t hurt anything.”
Karen beams at him, and I scowl.
“Stay in school, though. I’ll head home, when you’re ready to go you can—”
“Watch TV with us,” Kelly demands, seizing his wrist.
I sigh. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“Yeah,” Quentin says as Kelly half drags him to the living room.
I rush upstairs, checking my watch. Not much time. I hurry through a quick shower to get the Burt-sleaze feeling off my skin and dry as fast as I can before pulling on stockings, a skirt, and a blouse. I redo my makeup a little and slip into a pair of pumps and as I descend the staircase, Quentin watches the entire time.
He continues to fix his eyes on me, and not Spongebob Squarepants, as he stands up.
“You look nice.”
Kelly whispers something in Karen’s ear. Probably, Oh my God, he said she looks nice.
“We should go,” I say quickly. “I can’t be late for this.”
I already have my bag packed by the door. I reach to grab it but Quentin beats me, and I have to snap my hand back before I touch his wrist. He has big hands, lean and hard like the rest of him, with long fingers. He swings the door open and gestures for me to go first, with a smirk.
I have to fight off a smile as I pass through the door, and remind myself: this asshole sprayed me with a hose this morning. I put on a good scowl and stalk down to his car, where he of course opens the door for me and deposits my bag between my legs after I’m in.
Once he’s inside and he starts the motor, he says, “I’m sorry about the hose thing. I was a bit of an ass about it.”
“It’s a little late.” I scowl.
He shrugs and backs out of the drive, stopping with a jolt as a horn blares behind us.
It’s Mrs. Campbell, the self-appointed HOA block captain, who lives two doors up. She drives by in her Audi and gives us both a good, long stare, her thin lips pursed, before speeding up. Quentin sighs and backs the rest of the way out.
“Thank you for eating the pie,” I say quietly. “They’d have been heartbroken if you spat it out.”
“It tasted like packed dirt.”
I burst out laughing, and Quentin snickers.
“Keep the rest of it away from me, please.”
I only laugh harder, and swipe at my eyes. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long, long time. I fall back in the seat and sigh.
“Tired?”
“Yeah. Up before five, class runs until nine at night.”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I don’t have anything better to do.”
I snort. “What do you do, anyway?”
He shifts in his seat. “Right now, I’m, uh…on vacation.”
I sit up and glance at him in the rearview mirror. “That’s not a job.”