Clutch (Custom Culture) Page 5

  Mom knocked lightly and then poked her head inside. Her cheeks were shiny and red from cleaning floors. “Jason and Sarah are coming for dinner. Why don’t you invite Adam?” This thing with Adam had turned my mom into the happiest, sparkliest person in the world.

  I opened my mouth to let her know he was working, which was the truth, but it would leave out the unpleasant stuff. Then I decided that, like a stubborn bandage, I just needed to get it over with. “We broke up.” I hadn’t taken the trouble to sit up or look at her. I just blurted my declaration toward the ceiling.

  She pushed the door open and stepped inside, unfortunately. Her hands went on her hips as she stared down at the dress pattern I had pinned over fabric. “This room is a disaster. It’s not safe to leave pins on the floor.”

  I looked over at her. She’d taught me to sew when I was seven. I’d begged her to teach me for a month, and she had finally relented. And it turned out to be some of the best time we’d spent together. “Remember when we sewed that dress for my sixth grade dance, Mom?”

  She grunted. “Do I? I’ve never attempted to work with taffeta again. It was awful.”

  She’d remembered it as awful, and I’d remembered it as awesome. “We had fun, and it turned out to be the best dress at the dance.”

  “I guess it wasn’t too bad when it was done.” She looked over at me and there was a fleeting twinkle of momness in her eyes. “You are so pretty that you could have walked into the dance in a potato sack and still have been the most beautiful girl in the room.”

  She hadn’t said anything like it to me in a long time, and my eyes ached as I kept back tears.

  “Anyhow, back to the subject of Adam.” She could ruin a moment as quickly as she could build it up. “It was probably just a little spat. He’ll get over it soon enough.”

  “Pollyanna,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Mom, but believe me when I tell you it’s over. Adam and I are too different.”

  She nearly tripped on the clothes I’d pushed onto the floor. “I spent a long time folding these things.” She bent over to pick them up.

  “Leave them, Mom. I’ll get them later.”

  She sat on the edge of my bed. It seemed I was going to be blessed with a heart to heart with her. “Different is a good thing. Opposites attract and all that,” she said with a laugh. “Adam will be back, you’ll see.”

  “I broke it off. He’s not coming back, and I don’t want him to. He’s not for me, and I’m definitely not for him.”

  A long pause filled the air and then an angry sigh broke the silence. “Don’t forget the deal, Taylor Marie.” Pollyanna had vanished with the revelation that a reunion between Adam and me was not possible. “You need to stay out of trouble.”

  I leaned up on my elbows. “Really, you’re going to resort to the middle name thing. I haven’t heard it since I was in eighth grade and I got caught ditching school.”

  The rosy cheeks and sweet smile were gone and her mom scowl darkened her face. Of course, it never had much effect on me, or at least not as much effect as the spine-chilling dad scowl. “You know the rules, Kiddo.” She stepped over the clothes and headed to the door.

  “That’s the problem, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m eighteen. You can kick me out of the house, but you can’t tell me where to go, or what to wear, or who to date.” I’d made a conscious effort to keep my voice calm, and it threw her for a second. We’d had some pretty good screaming matches during my teen years, but I was not going to let her reduce me to a hysterical teenager. Not anymore.

  Her mouth pursed together as she seemed to be formulating her reply. “We’ll see what your dad says about that.” She spun around sharply on her heels and left the room.

  When Mom was done dealing with me she was always more than pleased to hand me off to Dad. It was pretty damn cowardly, but frankly, I was done trying to fit into his mold for the perfect daughter.

  Chapter 7

  Clutch

  It was rare for me to lose my appetite, in fact, if there was a word that meant rarer than rare then that would’ve been the term to use. I’d freaked out both Nix and Scotlyn when I’d hardly touched my burger at lunch. They knew the reason behind it though, and, thankfully, neither of them had brought it up. There wasn’t much to talk about. Taylor and I hadn’t seen each other in months, and we’d both been caught off guard. I was sure that her stunned reaction had come from fear that she’d broken the ‘stay away from Clutch rule’ and with Jason standing right there. My reaction had been my usual— construct the wall and try to ignore the fact that every inch of me had reacted to her presence. I guess that hadn’t changed. Although, the putting my fist through a wall thing was new.

  I turned up my street deciding that I needed a long workout session in the makeshift weight room I’d created in the garage. My hand was sore, but a little pain and sweat seemed just what I needed. I glanced up the street and did a double take when I saw that Barrett was helping my neighbor drag the empty cans back up to her house. He was shirtless, which, knowing my brother, was probably on purpose. Apparently, he’d decided chivalry and a bare chest were a good mix.

  Aimee waved at me as I pulled into the driveway. She was wearing that same glowing smile that I’d seen on so many girls who Barrett had taken the time to talk to. Only hers still came with that sad, lost glaze in her eyes. My brother didn’t wave, and I was sure that he would rather not have had me catch him in his act of garbage can valor.

  My knuckles and fingers throbbed as I slammed shut the car door. “How’s it going, Aimee?”

  “Great, James.” She was one of the few people who called me James. Aimee was that kind of person, the kind who called people by their proper names. She was polite and well-mannered, and she was stuck with a lazy, classless asshole. “Barrett was kind enough to come out and help me bring in the trash cans.”

  Barrett finally grew his pair enough to turn around and face me. He waved briefly and then returned his attention to Aimee.

  I went inside. Food wrappers and empty beer cans littered my coffee table, and the blankets were on the floor where Barrett had apparently thrown them, deciding that the bedroom was too far to travel to on foot. The front door opened and Barrett stepped inside without making eye contact.

  I crossed my arms and watched him slink toward the couch. “I guess you think if you don’t look directly at me then I won’t be able to see you.”

  “No, but I can already sense a lecture in the air,” he waved his arm around. “You reek of it.”

  “And you reek of the neighbor’s trash can,” I lifted my nose and sniffed, “and some of my expensive aftershave. So, you had time to put on aftershave but not a shirt?”

  He shrugged and it was that kind of kid brother shrug that was not going to sit well with my mood. “A guy likes to smell good when he’s taking in the garbage cans.” He plopped on the couch and propped his feet between an empty beer can and an open bag of chips.

  I picked up two of the cans and crushed them in my hands, forgetting about my swollen fingers.

  Barrett’s blue eyes went wide as if he’d envisioned his head in my fist instead of the can. “Bad day?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. And what the hell are you doing? Or did you not hear me mention that she was married?”

  “Yeah, to a humongous asshole.” He pointed at me, and I noticed that most of the tremble was gone. “Your words, not mine. Besides, I like to be helpful.”

  My rumbling laugh startled him, assuring me that he was still slightly on edge. “Since when are you helpful?”

  He lifted his arms and rested his hands behind his head. “Always— as long as a cute girl is involved.”

  “Then be helpful and clean this mess up. I’m going out to lift weights.”

  “You’re definitely not cute enough,” Barrett call
ed to me as I walked out the back door.

  ***

  A grueling session of weights was always a stress reliever, but it hadn’t dulled my senses when it came to Taylor. A few seconds in the same room with her and it was as if I’d held her in my arms and tasted her lips. I couldn’t seem to pile on enough weights or do enough reps to push her from my head.

  A rhythmic pounding on the kitchen wall greeted me as I grabbed a paper towel to wipe my face. It continued. I stepped into the living room. Barrett was sitting on the coffee table amongst his collection of litter throwing an old tennis ball against the wall. It had left a nice mark where he’d managed to hit the same exact spot numerous times. He’d been a talented pitcher in high school, but he’d never had enough self-discipline to continue in the sport.

  “You’re leaving a fucking mark on the wall.” He’d only been here a week, but I’d been living on my own for two years and his presence was getting on my nerves fast.

  He ignored me and threw the ball again but I snatched it from mid air.

  He leaned back on his hands and an empty chip bag floated to the floor, leaving a nice shower of salt on the rug. “What the hell am I going to do now, Jimmy? I have no diploma or job. I was making good money on the fishing boat. It was hard work but it paid well. Don’t know what to do now.”

  “You could go to night school and get your diploma.”

  He snorted a laugh. “I’m not going to sit in any fucking classroom ever again.”

  I tossed the ball up and down on my palm. “You could dress real sexy and stand on the street corner. Maybe some rich woman will pick you up like in that Pretty Woman movie.”

  He wasn’t amused. “I’m serious. I’m screwed.”

  “You screwed yourself, Rett.”

  He got up to retrieve the trash he’d dumped on the floor. “Maybe I should get back into baseball. The coach always thought I had big potential.”

  I collected up the empty cans. “I believe his exact words were ‘too bad about Barrett, he had big potential.’ You screwed up that opportunity too.”

  He swept up the blankets and threw them on the couch. “This little chat is a big boost to my confidence.” He looked at me. “Maybe I should just get back into drugs. Then I can sell—”

  His last word was sucked away by a gasp as I took three steps across the room and pinned him against the wall. My forearm pressed against his chest, and he looked as scared as I’d ever seen him. The strain of the day— hell, of the whole goddamn week had gotten to me.

  “I love you, Rett, but if you ever get hooked again, I will throw you into the fucking street.”

  He blinked at me a few times. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Jimmy. I wouldn’t let you down like that. I was only kidding.”

  I stared down at him and then I dropped my arm. It had been an overreaction, but at the same time, scaring the shit out of him was probably a good thing. I nodded. “Let me talk to Jason about hiring you to work part time at the shop. We could use an extra pair of hands.”

  “That’d be great.” There was still a slight tremble in his voice. He began cleaning the rest of the room, a bonus side effect of my small tantrum.

  I walked over to grab my cell phone from the table.

  Barrett glanced down at it as I reached for it. “What happened to your hand?”

  “It had an argument with a wall.”

  “We all make bad choices. By the way, someone’s been trying to call you. Your phone has been doing the cha-cha across the table for a half hour.”

  I glanced at the screen. “It was Jason.” I was glad he’d left a message. I really didn’t want to talk to the guy.

  “Hey, Clutch, we’ve got a lead on a sixty-five Shelby GT350. It’s a wreck and has to be remodeled from the chassis up, but it could be a great investment. The guy is going to the classic car meet-up tonight. I can’t make it, but you’re better at striking deals anyhow. Call me and I’ll give you all the info.”

  “Why did you argue with a wall?” Barrett asked as I lowered the phone. “I’m figuring after the weights I heard being shifted around in the garage and having you pancake me against the wall that something has you really tense.”

  “None of your business, Rett, and this place better sparkle. I want to see my reflection in that coffee table.” Seconds before, he’d looked terrified enough to swallow his own tongue, but my brother had the unbelievable confidence that allowed him to recuperate quickly. Growing up with four older brothers had given him amazing survival skills. He flipped on the stereo and then folded the comforters.

  “Those need to go into the washer,” I said. “You’ve been sweating, barfing and doing other things I don’t want to think about in those blankets for a week.”

  He nodded and gathered them up under his arm. “I’m thinking it’s all about a girl.”

  I waved him toward the laundry room. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me. Don’t turn on the washer yet. I’m taking a shower. I’ve got to see a guy about a car.” I walked into the hallway.

  “And I’ll bet the girl’s initials are T. F.,” he called to me. I had to admit, the kid had a steel pair of balls. “Because everyone knows that Taylor was meant for you. Everyone but you, that is.”

  I shut the bathroom door behind me.

  Chapter 8

  Taylor

  I woke to the sound of voices. I’d fallen asleep long enough for the bright sunlight of the day to fade to the faint pink light of dusk. The dim glow of the dying sun seeped beneath my bedroom blinds. The day came back to me in slivers, but one fragment was lodged painfully in my mind and my heart— I’d stood in the same room with Clutch, and I was still crazy about him.

  There had been so many times in the past few years that I’d tried to figure out why I was so nuts about him considering that he’d always treated me like shit. I’d been convinced that if I thought about it logically then I could just as easily talk myself out of the crush. But this had never been a crush, this had never been a school girl’s obsession with a monstrously built, good-looking guy who drove fast cars. James Mason had a soul that sometimes I was sure only I could see. He was a guy who would do anything for his friends and family even if it meant putting himself in danger, and somewhere deep in my bones, I was sure that he would risk everything for me too. Even though he’d always been irritated at my very presence, I’d kept that hope inside of me. Something deep within drove me to the guy as if there was only one person in the world for me, and if Clutch didn’t want me I was sure I’d spend the rest of my life alone.

  Mom’s harsh knock startled me out of my thoughts. “Dinner is ready, Taylor. Jason and Sarah are here.” She stuck her head inside. She’d put on a dress and pearls as if Jason and Sarah were important dinner guests. Her lips pulled tight, and it was obvious there was something she needed to confess. “I called Adam.”

  I sat straight up. “You what?”

  She put up her hand. “He’s not coming. He had to work.”

  I took a deep breath to keep my cool, but she was making it extremely hard. “Mom,” the icy tone in my voice caught her attention quickly, “he’s never coming here again. We are through and don’t ever fucking call him again.”

  I’d spoken quietly, but, almost as if he had some kind of bad language radar, my dad popped his head in over hers. “What did I just hear you say to your mother?”

  Mom turned around and placed her hand against his chest. “It was nothing, Carl. Just girl talk.” She’d extinguished the potential explosion quickly, not out of worry about me but out of worry that her little dinner party would be disrupted.

  Dad hesitated in the doorway and shot me an admonishing glare before walking away. Mom’s face was a shade paler as she stared hard at me from across the room. “Get changed out of those trashy shorts and come to the table. We’ll talk about this later.”

  I could hear Jason disc
ussing a classic car meet and an investment opportunity as I trudged down the hallway.

  “Do you think Jimmy will be able to—” Dad snapped his mouth shut as I entered the dining room. Apparently, I was not even allowed to hear a conversation about Clutch.

  I scraped the feet of the chair along Mom’s sparkling floor as I yanked it from the table and sat down hard.

  “Don’t slouch, Taylor,” Mom said sounding like Mrs. Biddle, my witch-faced second grade teacher. I over exaggerated a ramrod straight posture and plopped my elbows on the table. These people still treated me like a bratty, little girl, so I decided to roll with it. Mom’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she saw me place my elbows on the table.

  Jason smacked my arm, and I dropped back into the slouch. “So, Mom said you had a little fight with Adam?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Wasn’t a little fight. We’re through. Not that I see any reason why I have to discuss this with you.”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped but Jason quickly placed a hand on her arm to stop her from commenting.

  Mom picked up the potato bowl and handed it to me. “Let’s pass the potatoes around. I added some parmesan cheese to them, so they should be extra tasty.” Pollyanna had returned but I knew better. I knew that the anti-polly could emerge at a moment’s notice. She was almost scarier than Dad because with him he was always pissed off about something. He never put on the fake shit, and at the moment, his jaw twitched with anger.

  “When did you break up with Adam?” He looked questioningly at Mom. “And why did no one tell me?”

  Mom shrugged as she spooned peas and carrots onto her plate. “I was going to tell you after dinner. Besides, I’m sure it will all work itself out.”

  I laughed loudly, another no-no at the dinner table. I knew that everything I was doing would get me into deep trouble, but I could no longer play along with their creepy little game. “I had no idea that my dating life was such an important topic. Really you people need to get lives. And, nothing is going to work itself out, Mom. I was using Adam and it was wrong, so I broke it off.”