Page 50 of The Last Second Chance
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Jax chanted his way down the stairs, carefully clutching the banister. He had rug burn on his forehead and probably his knees. But it was his eyes that burned with the image that would take more than therapy and drugs to erase.
“I’ll be in the car,” he yelled over his shoulder from the kitchen. As his stomach pitched, he decided he’d better settle it with a little snack. He found some cheese and lunch meat in the refrigerator and grabbed a few slices of both. Jax tossed a slice of ham to Mr. Snuffles, who looked thoroughly confused, before hightailing it to his car to eat and pretend what happened hadn’t happened and wonder if he was the only one in Blue Moon not having sex.
His mother hurried out of the house a few minutes later. Her cheeks were pinker than the fuchsia turtleneck she now wore.
Phoebe gave him a shameful look and a few moments of blessed silence when she got in the car and Jax headed toward downtown.
“Here,” she said finally. “I brought you this. I know you eat when you get upset.”
Jax glanced over at the beef stick his mother was brandishing. “Mom, that’s the least appropriate snack you could have found in this situation.”
“Jax, listen, what you saw is very natural,” Phoebe began.
He gagged.
“Oh, honey, are you car sick? I can drive if you want me to.”
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Take Two’sparking lot had more than two-dozen cars in it by the time they pulled in. “How many people are in your movie group?” Jax asked his mother, still not able to look her in the eye...or the general direction.
“Oh, just a few. Forty-six, I think? And the members can bring guests if they want. Shelby won’t be here because she’s working nights at the hospital this month.”
“I thought this was just a little thing,” Jax said feeling the panic rise. “Yousaidthis was just a little thing.”
Phoebe patted his leg and Jax bolted out his door. “I know where that hand’s been, Mom!”
“Pull it together, Jackson, and put your big boy underpants on. Your mother has a vibrant, exciting sex life. Get used to it.”
Jax bent from the waist and dry heaved. “I think I might die from this.”
Phoebe slapped the beef stick against his chest. “Eat this and stop thinking about…what you’re thinking about.”
Jax straightened and took a deep breath of the frigid Blue Moon air. He ripped the plastic off of the beef stick and took a bite.
“Better?”
“Nothing a case of beer or amnesia won’t cure,” Jax said weakly.
“That’s the spirit. Now get in there and let me show off my genius son.”
“You’ll understand if I don’t look at you, right?”
“Of course, sweetie.”
It was worse than he thought. Phoebe led him past the concession stand before he could order a full-moon sized bucket of popcorn to settle his stomach and before he knew it, he was being dragged up on stage where a lone chair sat front and center.
“I’m not sitting on the stage, Mom,” he hissed.
“It’s only so everyone can see you,” she said, ignoring his resistance and marching him up the stairs onto the stage. “Clayton, do you have the mic?”
“Right here, Phoebe,” a man built like a retired linebacker lumbered toward Jax. His spectacular fro temporarily blocked the stage lights. Clayton’s wife, Lavender, a tiny daisy of a woman, waved at Jax from the front row.
“Hey, Clayton,” Jax greeted him and waved at the man’s wife. Clayton and Lavender Fullmer were the owners of Take Two and the parents of Grayson Moon, one of Jax’s lacrosse teammates.
“Hey, there Jax. Thanks for coming out tonight. The sooner Frieda Blevins gives up her niece’s selfie story, the better,” Clayton whispered.
“That’s what I hear,” Jax let Clayton hook the lavalier mic to the collar of his sweater. “How’s Grayson doing these days?”
