Chapter 13

After a mumbled curse at the squawking alarm Saturday morning, I was stretching when my phone chirped. Shift canceled. With storms wracking the coast, all the trucks were delayed.

“Fuck,” I cursed louder before glancing at my closed bedroom door.

No noise from the hall. Momma hadn’t heard me. But she’d be leaving for her job soon enough. When I shifted to scan the two sets of panties hanging from my monitor, my morning wood twinged. Forty-eight long hours without Mrs. Goodman.

Once dressed, I shuffled into the kitchen and made myself a bowl of cereal. As I shoveled crunchy goodness into my mouth, my mind—organized. Or tried to, but we were ahead of schedule. Plus, way off script. She should’ve protested far longer. And fought. Or threatened me with the police. Told her husband. Something.

“Hmm,” I murmured before sipping orange juice. “What’s she hiding?”

After my mother, dressed for work, appeared, I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You look great, momma.”

“Um-hmm,” she replied, while lifting a mug of coffee to her lips. But, rather than drinking, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Girls are trouble, boy. Focus on your studies. It’s the only way somebody like you is gonna make it outta here, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

At the only answer she expected, a smile appeared before that first lengthy sip. Did I question how she knew I was involved with girls? Nope. I’d learned long ago not to challenge her powers of perception. Or anything she said. That only got me a swift swat to the back of the skull. Instead, I returned her grin and finished my juice.

It was after she’d left and I was bored, running through the video of Mrs. Goodman at the motel, that I spotted the crinkled paper. A slender corner peeked from beneath my mouse pad. Once home from the second meeting with my teacher at the diner, I’d taken Ruby’s phone number from my pocket and dropped it onto the desk.

Since I’d been wholly focused on Mrs. Goodman, it had faded from my memory. But as I teased it free, my pulse ratcheted higher.

“Hmm, tits like that,” I murmured. “Now she could be fun.”

After lifting the phone, I paused. Fun? Nah, not only that. The last glimmer in her eyes before I’d walked away. Yes, she’d be entertaining, but there was also that hesitancy.

“That’d be intriguing to explore,” I muttered.

To be honest, while dialing, I expected to leave a message. But after only the second ring, the call connected.

“Uh, hello?” A woman inquired. “Who’s this?”

Duh, I hadn’t given her my number. Or name, for that matter. At the time, she simply hadn’t been worth it. But at some level, Mrs. Goodman’s latest reactions had piqued my interest in Ruby. With a grin slipping onto my face, I cleared my throat. And Damon Deep Voice, patent pending, began.

“You don’t know who this is?” I rumbled.

“Oh, sweetie!” she practically squealed. “Um, yes. How could I forget you?”

“Really?” I replied, with my eyebrows arching. Because her reply had been a little thick.

“Tall, dark, and handsome young stud like you.” She gulped. “Sweetie, I’ve been wondering—hoping—you’d call.”

“Damon. My name is Damon.”

“Well, um, Damon.” After she swallowed again, there was a puff of air, as if she were clearing something from the phone. Hair, perhaps? “Would you, uh, like to, um, get together, maybe?”

“How ‘bout tonight?”

No time like the present. Besides, if not that weekend, when I was facing two days of boredom, what was the point? She’d be of no use to me.

“Oh. Uh, hold on.” There was muted rustling for a while before she returned. “Sure. How about, um, could you come over? I’ll cook us a nice dinner and, uh...”

“Dinner would be fine, Ruby. Text me the time and your address.”

“Um, look Damon, I don’t ... Just, uh, well, I don’t do this all the time.”

“Don’t care.” I dropped my voice off an icy rock-strewn cliff. “I want to see you.”

“Oh, Jesus, sweetie. That tone. God, I’ve missed you something awful.”

“Tonight then, Ruby?”

“Yes.”

Before either she added irrelevant words or I said more than I should, I ended the call. Not more than ten seconds later, a text appeared. It contained an address, “six o’clock,” and “casual.”

The second-longest Saturday of my life began. With my mind replaying every word she’d said, the universe was trapped in molasses. Although chores got done, I just can’t remember what they were. Sure, perhaps I should’ve questioned the building urge to see her. But I didn’t.

And after spending far too much time, I’d settled on a pair of dark slacks and a white, short-sleeved, button-down shirt. When evening approached at last, I left early since she lived across the city. But the rain had stopped, and it was a peaceful drive across puddled streets. Guess the world had sped up. Because in the blink of an eye, I was pulling to a halt before a small, single-story home.

Although it was older, the yard was neat. But the other houses were not as well-maintained. After a swift glance at the dash clock, I sighed. In that flicker of the universe, I’d made good time. So, I reclined in the seat and scanned the narrow, cracked asphalt road. A lengthy sigh escaped me. Like our part of town, it had been an up-and-coming neighborhood about fifty years ago.

Momma was right. I had to get out of there. But that was a whole different project.

“Stay focused, Damon,” I mumbled, then chuckled.

Why the laughter? Ruby was on no plan. None whatsoever. Even Amy had a role, although it was morphing. For some damned reason.

To be honest, I should’ve restarted the engine and left. No need for added complexity. But after a quick glance at my keys, I crammed them into my pocket. With a grunt, I shoved open the door and headed for the house.