Page 23 of The Love of My Next Life
He snorts at my joke, but the seriousness returns immediately.
“Swear it,” he insists, and I roll my eyes. “Please, Lennon.”
“Fine. I won’t tell anyone you like to make pottery at the rec center.”
“I work here, Len. I teach boxing, run basketball scrimmages, and do janitorial shit throughout the week. And now I teach pottery on Thursdays.”
I gape at him. “Huh?”
“I work here,” he repeats.
I shake my head. “I thought you worked at the supermarket down the street?”
“Nope. Here. For like three years now.”
He grins like he’s proud he’s stunned me, and I run the information through my head. He works here. Has for years. And his family—everyone, as far as I know—thinks he works in the back at the supermarket. I screw my face up in confusion.
“Why don’t you want anyone to know?” I ask, and he blows out a breath.
“Can’t you just keep quiet and leave it at that?”
“No. I need to know why I’m keeping this secret.”
He studies me for a minute, eyes narrowed, and I narrow mine right back. He sighs like he’s over my bullshit, and I grin.
“I started working here because I spray-painted a giant ejaculating dick on the side of James and Hank’s house.”
My jaw drops and he throws up his gray palms.
“I didn’t know who lived there, I swear to god. Was gonna tag up every house on the street, but James caught me on his security camera. Instead of pressing charges, he let me start volunteering here. Then the volunteering turned into an actual paid job, and I quit the supermarket.”
“Oh my god,” I say, and he smirks.
“That’s nothin’,” he says. “Wanna know why I’m teaching pottery?”
I nod, because what can I even say? Of course, I want to know.
“You know how I ran my car into the ditch?”
“Yeah...”
“I didn’t swerve for a raccoon like I told Mom. I was high as fuck. I called James and he came and got me and had my car towed to the garage. I’m working off the tow charge. I just don’t want to bother my mom with this shit. I disappoint her enough as it is.”
I can’t fully comprehend what I’m hearing. I knew Macon was trouble, but vandalizing houses? Driving while high?
“Macon...you could have gotten killed,” I scold. “You could have killed someone else.”
“Yeah, I know, okay?” he spits. “It was fucking dumb. I’m a fucking idiot. I know that. James already laid into me. It won’t happen again.”
The tense set of his jaw and the utter guilt I see in his eyes make me change the subject.
“Why can’t you just tell your mom you’re working here?” I ask. “You get paid. You don’t have to tell her why.”
“No,” he shakes his head rapidly, “definitely not. She’ll ask questions and I’ll have to answer them. I can’t lie to her face, Len. You know that. And then Claire will find out, and she’ll ruin it.”
“No, she wo—”
“Shewill, Lennon,” he insists, cutting me off. “Claire will fucking ruin it, and she will tell everyone. She’ll make it something it’s not, and then people will show up here. My friends.” He sighs. “I just...”
