Friday Night Alibi

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Grrr! Kelli! Just admit you want more with him!”

  “But I don’t,” I muffle through the fabric on the turtleneck I’m putting on.

  She sighs. “Then forgive me for saying it. You’re kind of a slut.”

  I reach for the pillow again.

  “I’m sorry, but seriously, Kel. What’s stopping you from making it official?”

  “You know why.”

  “I forgot.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pull off the turtleneck that makes me look eighty years old. “I’m an alibi! There’s no way I can do both.”

  “You already are.”

  “No. I’m keeping emotions out of it.” My voice is firm, but I’m pretty sure I’m lying. Because what’s that whole popcorn mess about? And the crying over the box under his bed . . . if I’m not feeling things?

  I’m messed up, that’s what’s happening.

  “I still think you’re missing out on an epic romance with this guy.” She hands me a pale pink button-up. “You should see you two together when we’re at the club.”

  My stomach twists. “What do you mean?” It can’t be that obvious we’re kissing partners, right? I mean, we’re still pulling pranks.

  Her mouth goes up in a huge smile as she tosses her beautiful chocolate waves over her shoulder. “The way you look at him when you don’t think anyone is watching. He looks at you that way all the time. Like you’ve set his world on fire, brought some marshmallows and chocolate, and he wants s’more more more!”

  “That was horrible, Sades. Where did you get that one?”

  “I made it up!” she announces proudly, adjusting the collar on the pink button-up. “And I think we’ve found an acceptable hickey cover.”

  Letting out a big gust of relief, I pull on my skirt and check myself out in the mirror. Maybe if I play like a frightened turtle all night, it’ll stay hidden. Sades helps me with my makeup and accessories, while I try not to think about Chase and the way his mouth felt on my neck.

  “Perfect,” she says, attaching my pink sapphire necklace. “Totally my-fake-boyfriend-is-meeting-my-parents appropriate.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  The doorbell rings, traveling through my large house and into my bedroom.

  Alex is right on time. Should’ve known, because it’s important we get this perfect. For his sake, not mine.

  Sades grabs our purses and we walk in silence to meet Alex at the door. Before I open it, she tugs my collar up and winks.

  “Hey, Alex,” we both say.

  “Hey.” He smiles that boyish grin. The pressed suit he’s wearing is appropriate for my parents and of course, Daddy’s restaurant. Complete opposite of Chase’s all black the one time he was there. As I look Alex up and down, I wonder why I was ever goo-goo over him. Even if it was for only like four days. He’s too . . . Sundale vanilla. Too much . . . like me.

  “You look amazing, as always, Kel.”

  “Thanks.”

  And with a small wave to Sades as she gets in her Miata, I hop in Alex’s car and go over our rehearsed lines for the night.

  Daddy saved us the VIP section, which overlooks the entire restaurant on one side, and the city lights on the other. The room looks like it barfed velvet décor, which is the stupidest decision in the world because HELLO! If something stains, don’t you have to replace the whole thing?

  The table is a fine wood, which I don’t remember the name of and no way am I asking, because once you get Mom talking about the restaurant, she doesn’t shut up about how much this cost and that cost and blah, blah, blah.

  “This is very nice, Mr. Pinkins,” Alex says with flawless kiss-buttery. “I’ll have to recommend this room to my parents for their annual Christmas party.”

  “Yes, yes,” Dad mumbles around his dinner.

  Mom frowns and clears her throat. “They’ll have to book soon if you’re considering that, Alex. Christmas is a busy time.” She smiles, perfect teeth whitened last week glisten behind bright red lipstick. At least Mom is trying to be nice. Dad seems so out of it.

  “I’ll let them know.” Alex grins before taking another bite of his food. Twenty minutes into this dinner and Alex and Mom have taken up most of the convo, Dad’s been politely nodding and grunting from his plate, and I’ve managed to hide hickeyville. Pretty good, I guess.

  Well, it could be worse.

  “Kelli tells me you play tennis,” Mom says to Alex. She’s lying her fancy butt off, because the only thing I’ve told them about Alex is he’s my sorta boyfriend. She must’ve heard it through the gossip train.

  “Yes. We practice often at the club together.”

  “Is that where you met?”

  Alex nods. “On a more personal level, yes. But I’ve known her for a while now.”

  Wow, he’s good. I’d give him a golf clap if it didn’t look weird. He’s not even spouting off lies the way I did at his house.

  “Oh, of course. Through church, I’m sure.” Mom waves her hand in the air like she should’ve known that all along, then she snaps for Tiffany.

  “Ready for dessert?” Tiffany asks, big friendly give-me-a-large-tip smile on her face.

  “I think so.” Mom puts her fork across her plate and we all follow suit, Dad being a little louder than the rest of us.

  We’re quiet and I can tell Alex is getting uncomfortable even if he’s not showing it above the table, his hands twiddle on his lap. I reach over and hold them still, begging him to keep cool with my eyes. He squeezes my fingers and gives me that baby boy grin.

  Dad clears his throat and when my eyes go to his, they’re glistening at me and Alex. Not in a good way, either. Like he’s about to cry or burst into anger fits. I can’t decide because I have never seen him like this.

  Alex jerks back, noticing the cry/anger glare.

  “You two are dating?” Dad grumbles, like the hand holding was the only evidence and not this whole charade.

  We nod. Alex seems to have lost his tongue so I pipe up for the first time.

  “He’s a good guy, Daddy.” I’m laying the Daddy’s girl act on thick, but I don’t know how else to act. I’ve never done this before, especially defending a guy who I’m not really dating.

  It’s a big mess, I know.

  “Hmm . . .” he grunts again.

  “Really. He’s going to the university on a tennis scholarship, attends church every week, and I promise he treats me with respect.” My face goes red and from the heat I feel on my right, Alex is on fire. It sounds like I’m recommending him for a job.

  “Respect, huh?” Dad says, and my eyes crinkle from his tone. I look at Alex who gives me a small shrug and then to Mom whose eyeballs are so round, I think they’ll pop from her skull.

  “Yes, Daddy. He’s nothing but respectful.” My voice is firm because it’s the truth. Alex has always been a good friend, or client. My best one. Even when he saw my hooters, he didn’t ogle them. Strictly business. And I’m not losing my best client over this dinner that’s suddenly gone from light to dark just by my dad saying more than two words.

  “Dear,” Mom chokes from her end of the table, “what’s gotten into you?” She puts on a joking smile, her hands twisting the napkin in her lap.

  Dad’s chair goes flying back as he stands, and he knocks over his empty water glass. “You don’t see it?” he spits.

  Holy crap! What is going on? Is he onto me? Does he know this is just a bunch of cock and bull? How would he know that? He’s never around!

  Mom looks just as stunned as the rest of us. Alex’s fingers are tight in mine, and his eyes deadlocked on my Dad. Or I’m going to call him possessed Dad, because I have no idea who this person is.

  “See what?” Mom squeaks. Dad marches over to me and it’s the first time in my life I’ve been afraid of him. He’s angry, but he’s not rough as he pulls the collar down on my shirt, displaying Purple Monster for everyone to see.

  Alex drops my hand at the same time he drops
his jaw. Mom squints at it, like she’s not sure it’s real, and Dad lets go. Instead of yelling at me or Alex even, he bends over the table and shouts at Mom.

  “We’re blind idiots! I don’t know my own daughter and you don’t either. Don’t pretend you do. She was dating this boy for three months before we found out! She spends all her time alone. We don’t know what she does, or where she is, or who she’s with. We don’t know anything but what we want to believe. And I’m tired of it.”

  He falls to his knees. My dad, on his knees in his seven-hundred-dollar suit, hanging his head and whispering to the floor, “I’m tired of it.”

  We’ve all stopped breathing. I’m staring at my father on the floor with who knows what look on my face. I can’t believe all the things that came out his mouth. All the true things, which I never knew he knew about.

  Tiffany walks in with the tray of dessert, and stops dead in the doorway, looking from Dad to Mom, from me to Alex, wondering what she should do.

  Mom sniffles and slides out of her seat. “Thank you, Tiffany,” she says, handing her a handful of cash, “but I think we’ll be heading out early.”

  Tiffany nods and bolts out of there. Mom turns to us, still trying to keep that fake smile on her face.

  “Alex dear, would you mind taking Kelli home?”

  “Uh, yes, that’s fine.” He glances at my dad as he stands, not offering his hand to me or anything. The charade is over anyway.

  Dad moves from the floor to my vacated seat, not saying a word. I guess he’s said everything he wants to.

  I’ve been involved in awkward silences. I mean, who hasn’t? But this is the worst awkward silence ever as Alex and I wait for the valet to bring his car around. If Chase were here, he’d make a joke, help me laugh this off, call me Stinky, or kiss me, or something to make me forget what just happened. But I’m not with Chase. I’m with Alex, who seems perfect, but he’s not my perfect.

  Not saying Chase is my perfect. Oy, never mind.

  We get in the car and the second the door closes, Alex speeds off. I snap my seatbelt on as fast as I can.

  “What were you thinking, Kel?!” he shouts.

  I shrink back in the seat. Whoa, whoa, whoa!

  “What?”

  He leans over and whips my collar down, harder and rougher than Dad did.

  “A hickey?! How could you do this to me?”

  To him? What?

  “I pay you! I pay you to help me out! I need that trust fund. Tennis won’t last me forever, and you promised me this would work and you wouldn’t do anything to screw it up. I paid for that promise, and you mess it up with a hickey on your neck.”

  “I-I . . .”

  “You better hope my parents don’t hear about this. They won’t let us ‘hang out’ anymore, which means I’ll have to find another way to see Brianne. Or even worse, they’ll yank my trust fund from me right now.”

  He slams his palm against the steering wheel. I jolt in my seat and force my eyes to look out the window and my ears to tune out his mutterings the rest of the way home.

  We pull up and he puts the car in park, doesn’t offer to open my door. Not that I expect him to.

  I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Alex. I promise I’ll take care of damage control. I’m pretty sure my mom won’t say anything, since we embarrassed my family more than yours tonight. So as long as you don’t say a word, we won’t either.”

  He raises an eyebrow, watery eyes now a bit hopeful. “You think?”

  “Yes.”

  He lets out a puff of air through his nose. “Okay. Sorry I freaked. It’s just . . . Brianne’s important.”

  “I know.”

  Putting his hand on his door handle, he attempts a smile. “I’ll walk you up.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow in church. Hopefully things will have calmed down.”

  He smirks. “Make sure to wear a turtleneck.”

  Chapter 30

  Apparently Mom’s solution to Dad’s breakdown was to take him out of town for another week. Because that makes sense. Let’s take him away from the daughter he says he doesn’t know, throw some money at her, and tell her to behave “like always.”

  I’m beginning to think my mother is just in a constant state of denial. She wants life to be perfect, so she pretends it is. Hasn’t even brought up the hickey thing.

  And so far, it looks like I was right. Word has not gotten out about the disastrous dinner date. The hickey hasn’t completely disappeared though, so I’ve been sweating a river everywhere I go in big doofy sweaters.

  Alex says it’s a good idea to test an alibi again, to make sure his parents are still good with him hanging out with me. As an apology for last week, I don’t charge him.

  I haven’t told Chase about what happened either. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I don’t want to think about it when I’m talking with him. So I ask him more dumb questions to keep the focus on his life, and not mine.

  We talked major water polo last FB chat, and me being the brilliant person I am during those convos, I invited him over to swim. Then I ate my entire house. What was I thinking? Being half naked in a pool with him? I can’t get myself into another hickey predicament. Oy.

  Sades came over and stopped me from licking the frosting bowl dry, then helped me pick out the perfect suit from my millions. She proudly announced the hickey was yellowing, so I should be in the clear as long as he keeps his lips away from my neck tonight.

  She also held back the “I told you so,” which I’m very grateful for.

  I open my balcony and pull on my oversized swim shirt, covering the perfect suit. Don’t make fun, I’m self-conscious when it comes to him.

  The balcony door shuts as I’m digging through my linens for a couple towels. I can’t help the grin spreading across my cheeks just from knowing he’s here.

  “Hey, Stinky,” he says as I emerge from my hideout.

  “Moron.”

  “We’re not swimming in your room, are we?” His lips quirk up and I toss my eyes to the ceiling.

  “You’re such a dork.”

  “You like me that way.”

  I open my bedroom door and wave at him to follow. The pool’s in the basement, so we’ve got a bit of a journey through my big empty house. His hand finds mine as we walk. It’s so warm and comforting, I moan and lean on his shoulder.

  “Your parents gone again?” he asks as we take another flight of stairs down.

  I nod. “Yes. Venice this time.”

  “Did they ask you to go?”

  Snorting, I shake my head. “Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

  He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Kel.”

  I stop at the bottom of the stairs and wrap my arms around his waist. “It’s okay. I get to be with you now.”

  “For real? Or are you working tonight?” he asks behind my back, an edge to his voice.

  “Don’t ruin it.” I smack his butt then bolt away before he can catch me in a tickle fight.

  The pool hasn’t been used in a while. Dad used to do laps every morning before work, but he’s been gone so much I don’t think he has. But our pool guy keeps it clean.

  The room was built so we could swim in private as well as in the open. Which is stupid because the property lines are so huge, we could run around in the backyard naked and no one would know. So instead of leaving the shutters closed on the ceiling to floor windows, I press the appropriate buttons to open them, letting the moonlight shine down into the pool.

  Chase slides his arms around my waist from behind, his breath tickling my ear. It’s going to sound total gagsville mushy, but this is the best thing in the world. Even better than kissing . . . okay, I’m lying. But it’s a close second. I feel so wanted here in his arms. Like, no one wants me, Kelli Pinkins. They want the alibi, or the perfect churchgoing daughter, or the tennis player, or the Christian bookstore employee and straight-A student. Never just . . . me.

  Chase isn’t that person either, si
nce we don’t really know each other. Just make out buddies and stuff. But I can pretend for a little bit, right?

  “You ready for me to teach you my skills?” he asks, grazing his lips against my ear.

  I have a retort, but I don’t use it. Skipping over to the big huge pool closet we have with all our toys, I grab the basketball and toss it in the pool.

  “Go get it, Aquaman.” I laugh.

  He claps his hands together and gets ready for a dive.

  “Wait!” I shout, the walls echoing it back at us. Whoops! “Um, aren’t you going to take off your shirt?”

  He’s wearing all black again, just like the day he was with Sades in the club pool. She said he didn’t take his shirt off then either, and I thought it had to do with his pasty white skin being sensitive to the sun.

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” He smirks. “Why? Were you hoping for some eye candy?”

  Yes . . . no . . . but how can I strip down to what’s underneath my shirt if he’s not going to do the same?

  “Then I’m keeping my shirt on too.” I fold my arms across my waist, hoping he’ll take the bait and toss his shirt to the side of the pool.

  He looks disappointed for like, two seconds, then he shrugs and dives in, still covered neck to knee.

  Boo. I thought I had him. Maybe he’s not a pervert tonight.

  I don’t dive in, because I’m splash paranoid—you know when you make a huge splash jumping into a pool and people think whoever just disappeared in the water had to be like four hundred pounds? Yes, I’m splash paranoid.

  And I keep my shirt on too. So, ha!

  Chase grabs the ball and swims to me. I give him credit, he’s seriously good in the water.

  Looks good wet, too.

  “Okay, Stinky. Do you know how to play?”

  “I know how to play basketball.”

  “Good enough.” He laughs and tosses me the ball. I waddle over to the hoop and shoot, missing everything.

  He laughs again, his chuckles echoing from the glass walls, and retrieves the ball. “I think you’re a liar.”

  “I said I know how to play, not that I was good at it.”

  “Come here.” He waves me over with one hand, showing off by spinning the basketball in the other. “I’ll show you how to shoot.”