Page 27 of Top Shelf

tyson

It’s beena day since I’ve seen her, and I’ve decided I’m not a fan of days where I don’t see her. I forgot how much they fucking suck.

I’m making Odie a bowl of food and fighting off the Sunday scaries when my phone buzzes on the counter.

Dinner at Dad’s tonight. 6 o’clock,Demi texts.Oh, and I ran into your “girlfriend” at the store. She’s coming too.

I stare down at the text.

Fuck.

Oh, Jesus. I hope you behaved,I write her back. I get why my sister is so protective, but I’m also protective. Even of Sadie.Especiallyof Sadie. Even if we never spoke again after that weekend, I’m pretty sure I’d go to the grave fighting to protect her.

I was nice enough,Demi writes back.

That doesn’t make me feel much better.

I close out of the text, click on Sadie’s name, and press dial.

“Hello?” she answers.

“I heard you had a Demi run-in today,” I say. “Just checking on you.”

She giggles on the other end of the phone.

“She was fine. Although, we were in public, so there were witnesses,” she says. “Should I go tonight?” I can feel the nervousness in her voice.

“I’d love it if you did,” I tell her. “But I totally understand if you don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to protect me from them, Ty,” she says. “They have every right to feel the way they feel about me after…after everything.”

That cold, deep, dark, pit-of-my-stomach feeling is creeping in.

“Yeah, well, gotta play nice with the family sometime, right, baby?” I say, playing it off like it’s no big thing.

There’s a slight pause.

“Right,” she says.

“So,” I say, “should I pick you up? It only makes sense that you ride with your boyfriend, right?”

She laughs.

“It only makes sense,” she says. “I’ll see you tonight.”

A few hours later, I’ve made sure I washed with the spicier body wash, spent a little extra time running my fingers through my hair, and trimmed my beard up a little tighter. And now I’m out the door and on my way to my ex-best friend/fake girlfriend’s house.

When I pull up in her parents’ driveway, she’s waiting on the porch. I get out and start walking toward her door, but she’s bolting off the porch steps like a bat out of hell. She grabs my arm as she makes it to me, pulling me back to the truck.

“No time for chit-chat,” she says, “Debbie is here.”

I laugh as I follow her to the truck, getting in. We always referred to her mom by her first name.

“Quick!” she says, panting. “Drive!”

I laugh again as I throw the truck into reverse and whip out of the driveway.

“Yes, ma’am!” I say, flying out onto her street and sailing away in the direction of my dad’s. “Man,” I say, “I didn’t even get to put on my best show for Debbie and Mark.”

---