Chapter 5

                                    

                                          
CHAPTER 5 

Derek 


I manage to stay away from Ashtyn the rest of the day, hoping to avoid the crazy warrior girl who locked me in the shed. Apparently she doesn’t feel the need to avoid me, though, because as 
I’m talking to my old roommate, Jack, on my cell and giving him props for managing to stuff my suitcase with random poker chips as a good- bye prank, she stomps into the den without knocking or an invitation. Her guardian watchdog tags along. 
                          
“I have a bone to pick with you.” She crosses her arms on her chest. Her dog flops down on the floor next to her. I bet if he could cross his front legs on his chest to imitate her, he would. 
                          
I raise an eyebrow, amused. “Jack, I’ll call you back.” I slide my cell into my pocket, lean against the wall, and prop my feet up on the box labeled WINTER CLOTHES I’m using as a mock coffee table.
                          
“What bone do you want to pick?”
                          

Her eyes narrow. The girl doesn’t miss the double meaning as I throw her words back at her. 
                          
She ignores my joke and instead lets out a burst of irritation. “First off, you need to tell my nephew I’m not crazy. The kid won’t even look at me.” 

I wag my foot. “I’m not the one threatenin’ innocent people with pitchforks and accusing them of bein’ thugs.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve told me who you were right away . . . and stop wearing knit hats in the middle of the summer. Obviously my sister didn’t tell us she had a stepson, so I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“She didn’t tell me she had a sister, either. And it’s called a beanie.” 

“Whatever. It threw me off .” 

“Why are you so serious? Loosen up.” I wag my foot again. “If it’ll make you feel any better, you can rub my foot for ten minutes and we’ll call it even.” 

She eyes my toe as if I have a fungus. “You think this is funny, don’t you?” 

“Entertaining is more like it.” I look down at my foot. “So I assume the foot rub is out?” 

“Let’s just get one thing straight, Cowboy.” She eyes my collection of boots lined up in the corner. “You might be used to getting girls to rub your feet or do whatever you want by flashing that smile or showing your six-pack, but it’s not gonna work with me. I’m around football players all day, so seeing a fit body is like seeing a statue. It doesn’t do anything for me.” 

“Tell me, then. What does it take to get your attention?” I ask. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Yeah. And I have a feeling I’m gonna find out real soon. 

I can tell Ashtyn is a girl who plays by her own rules and refuses to acknowledge that there’s some kind of electricity flying between us. The more she protests, the more I know I’ve gotten under her skin. I’m about to say some cocky comment until Falkor groans, then stretches out and starts lapping away at his balls. “Your dog has issues.” 

“We all have issues.” She stares me straight in the eye. “But don’t try to figure me out or get into my business.” 

“Ashtyn, the last thing I’m gonna do while I’m here is get into your precious business. Or your issues, whatever they are.” 

“Good.” She tosses her braid back. “Then we’re on the same page.” 

Brandi peeks into the room, her big earrings swaying from side to side. “Derek, how’re you feeling?” she asks, concern laced in her voice. 

“Ashtyn was just about to give me a foot rub. Why didn’t you tell me your sister was as sweet as sugar pie?” 

Brandi puts her hand to her heart. “Aww. It’s super cool that you’re so forgiving, Derek. I made dinner and it’s ready whenever you are.” 

When Brandi leaves, Ashtyn puts her hands on her hips and raises a brow. “Sugar pie, my ass,” she says, then storms out. 

In the kitchen, Brandi’s dad sits at the head of an oak table surrounded by six wooden chairs. Julian is stuffing his face with mashed potatoes I’m sure are processed and probably don’t have actual potatoes in them. I don’t think Brandi has ever made anything that hasn’t come from a box. Ashtyn is sitting across from Julian. She glances up and our eyes meet. When I raise a brow, she quickly gazes down at her food. 

“Have a good nap, buddy?” I ask Julian as I wash my hands in the sink and pretend Brandi’s sister doesn’t make me want to find out what it would take to get her attention just for the satisfaction of knowing I can. 

Julian nods. I catch a tiny hint of a smile on his face when I mess up his hair and slide into the chair next to him—and across from Ashtyn. 

I scan the food on the table. Chicken fingers that don’t look like they actually came from a chicken, “just add water” mashed potatoes from a box, and corkscrew pasta smothered with canned Alfredo sauce. I’ve got to go grocery shopping with Brandi and introduce her to vegetables and chicken that aren’t processed to death. Obviously eating healthy is not part of the Parker household plan. 

Neither is conversation. 

It’s silent except for the sound of silverware clinking on the plates and the occasional cough. Is this typical? My dad always has crazy stories to tell and will yank conversation out of you even when you don’t want to talk. It’s a talent he was born with, or maybe it’s some interrogation technique he learned in the military. Either way, it’s a skill I don’t have. I’m tempted to fling mashed potatoes across the room to liven up the evening, which is more my speed. Would Ashtyn follow along, or would the warrior girl try to stab me with her fork instead? 

Ashtyn is the first to speak. “I was voted captain of the football team today,” she says. I detect a quiet, almost unrecognizable pride in her voice. 

“Wow!” I nod, impressed. 

“You play flag football?” Brandi asks. “That’s cute. I played on the powderpuff team when I was in—” 

“It’s not flag football,” Ashtyn interjects. “I play varsity for Fremont. You know, the one without the flags.” 

“Your sister has become a tomboy,” Gus chimes in. 

“Are you a lesbian?” Brandi whispers loudly. 

I try to hold in my laughter, but I’m not doing a great job. 

“No, I’m not a lesbian,” Ashtyn says. “I have a boyfriend. I just . . . like to play and I’m good at it.” 

“Derek used to play football,” Brandi says. 

“A while ago,” I say quickly, hoping to cut Brandi off before she elaborates. Ashtyn doesn’t need to know the truth, because the truth doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. I hope Brandi doesn’t blab my entire history. “I was average,” I mumble. 

The girl wielded a pitchfork, so I shouldn’t be surprised she plays football. But I am. 

Brandi waves her hands excitedly, getting our attention. “Ashtyn, I have the best idea. Why don’t you, like, take Derek out and introduce him to your friends tonight?” 

Ashtyn’s eyes lock on mine. “I kinda have plans, but, umm . . .” 

“You don’t have to entertain me. I’m not really up for a late night after drivin’ for the past week, anyway. I’m fixin’ to go for a run and knock out early.” I don’t need to be babysat, that’s for damn sure. 

“Lake Michigan isn’t far,” Brandi chimes in. “You can run on the beach. It’ll make you feel like you’re back in Cali.” 

I’d bet my left nut that Chicago beaches are nothing like the beaches in Cali. 

“Or the school track,” Ashtyn pipes in too enthusiastically. “Everyone runs on the school track. The beach gets crazy crowded at night. You definitely don’t want to go there.” 

Uh-huh. She’s definitely going to be hanging at the beach tonight. 

“What’s your plan?” Gus asks Brandi. “You don’t expect to sit around here all day, do you?” 

Time for her to break the news that she’s prego. 

“I’ll apply for a job at Debbie’s salon after Julian starts kindergarten and Derek starts his senior year at Fremont.” Brandi stabs her fork into a piece of chicken. “I figure Debbie will hire me to do nails after I get certified this summer.” 

Her dad shakes his head in disapproval. “Seems to me like you should apply to the community college and take some real classes so you have options besides making minimum wage doing nails. This marriage of yours might not work out, you know.” 

Gus doesn’t hold back anything. While I might have had the same thought before I knew Brandi was pregnant, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. I look over at Julian, who’s got his attention squarely on his food. In an attempt to make sure he doesn’t pay attention to more of the conversation, I balance a piece of chicken on Julian’s knee and watch as Falkor eats it off him and licks him. Julian giggles. 

“I’m not good at real school, Dad. You know that.” Brandi bows her head. Her usual optimism might be irritating, but now she looks like her spirit is broken as she mumbles, “And my marriage is just fine, thank you very much.” Brandi doesn’t spill the news about her pregnancy. Instead, she shakes her head and looks defeated. 

Nice going, Gus. I motion for Julian to feed Falkor more table scraps, hoping the dog doesn’t mistake his little fingers for mini hot dogs. 

“You weren’t good at school because you didn’t apply yourself,” Gus continues. “If you’d spent half as much time studying as you did chasing boys and getting in trouble, you’d already have a college degree.” 

Ashtyn slaps a hand over her eyes and shakes her head, completely embarrassed. 

Brandi puts down her fork and stares at her dad. “Are we going through this again? ’Cause we can walk out that door and never come back, just like practically everyone else in your life.” 

Gus stands, his chair scraping the kitchen floor so loudly Julian covers his ears. Gus storms out of the kitchen. The front door slams and his car tires squeal a minute later as he drives off . 

One look at Brandi and Ashtyn is enough to make me want to escape from the room like Gus just did. Julian doesn’t seem to be faring any better. 

Ashtyn stares at her sister accusingly. 

“What?” Brandi says innocently. “Dad started it.” 

“Maybe you started it when you left seven years ago,” Ashtyn tells her. I can feel her resentment from across the table. Man, I’m in the middle of some civil war here. 

“That’s not fair,” Brandi says. 

Ashtyn rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Brandi.” 

I catch a tear running down Brandi’s face. She swipes it away, then leaves the table. Julian runs after her, leaving Ashtyn and me alone. 

“Y’all should audition for the new reality show where they eliminate the least dysfunctional family each week,” I tell her. “I think you guys got a decent chance of winnin’ the million.” 

“You’re part of this dysfunctional family,” Ashtyn shoots back. 

I look at her, amused. “What makes you think that?” 

“Otherwise, you would have stayed in California and not followed Brandi here. You’d be with your own mom. Your biological one, I mean.” 

“That’s not really possible.” I push myself away from the table. “She’s dead. What’s your excuse for not living with your mom?”