Page 135 of Dangerous Encore
6
Lacey
Sunday,I try to stay busy. I go to the gym. I make breakfast. I devote myself to editing my latest side project—a silly short film about a couple trying and failing tobreakup.
But the thought screams in my head all day.You're seeing your momtonight.
I try to push it aside. I try to ignore the concerned glances Mal keeps castingmyway.
Ifail.
All afternoon, he shoots me those sameI'm not sure about thislooks. Even as I dress. As I put on makeup. As we get into my car—Dad will want to look at theengine.
As we pull onto thefreeway.
It's a good thing I'm driving with the way Mal keeps lookingatme.
Okay. Focusing on all the intensity in his blue eyes isn't going to help me right now. If I want to drive all the way to Riverside without crashing, I need adistraction.
I make conversation about the songs on the radio. He plays along, but it's infecting the air, thethis is a bad ideavibes.
The closer we get to Riverside, the more the nerves in my stomach demand my attention. By the time I pull into Mom and Dad's neighborhood, the nerves are inoverdrive.
It's been three years since I've been home. Maybe more. It looks the same as it did. All those rows of little houses. All those parched lawns. The thin slice of concrete on the curb. The worn grey streets, packed with older cars.Practicalcars.
This neighborhood is nicer than it used to be, but it's still not well to do. Not by southern Californiastandards.
Not that such things stop my mom from spending most of her pay check on clothes. She's worked part-time as an administrative assistant since I was in gradeschool.
I don't begrudge her the job. In this neighborhood, most of the moms work. That's the only way to make the mortgage when Dad's job doesn't cover all thebills.
But having to forgo air conditioning because Mom wanted a two-hundred-dollar pair ofshoes…
I guess I'm notoverit.
"You okay, baby?" Mal's voice pulls me out of mythoughts.
"Yeah." I park on the street just in front of my parents' place. Then I notice the empty spot in the driveway. Mom's car, the sleek silver sedan, is on the right. Dad's souped up muscle car is parked across thestreet.
He cleared the spaceforme.
Because he wants to check myengine.
But still. It'ssweet.
I pull into thedriveway.
The front door pulls open as I turn the car off. There's Dad, standing on the front step in jeans and a greasy t-shirt. His grey hair is short. His dark eyes are bright.Happy.
I'm not sure which pleases him more—that I'm here or that I broughtmycar.
I nod to Mal. "He'sobsessed."
"He is a mechanic,"Malsays.
"You're already siding with my parents?" I try to sound like I'm teasing, but I don't get quitethere.
Mal slides his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. "Never."
