Damn. That was just starting to get good. But rules were rules.
So I said, “Don’t worry about it. We’re good now, right? I could use some people to hang with in Sharon.”
“Yep. If Avery believes you, that’s okay by me. Oh, my God, look at that guy.”
When the tear-away pants came off, the first thing I noticed was gold lamé underpants. It looked like he was smuggling a salami down there. He was extremely tanned and fit, so my gaze lingered on his chest and thighs. I gradually worked my way upward, only to jolt in my chair when I realized the face I was looking at belonged to a guy old enough to be my granddad.
He caught my eye and winked. Pretty much everyone in the club was on their feet, howling in support. I chucked a five-dollar bill onto the stage. His number was campy as hell, the most original choreography we’d seen all night. I screamed when he did a little twirl, just like the guy in the song, who was also too sexy for his shirt. Jill held on to my shoulder, staring up in what could’ve been drunken adulation.
“God, I hope I’m that much fun when I get old,” I said to the table.
“Amen, sister.” Krista winced and put a hand on her belly.
“Crap. Too much excitement? Should we go?” It wasn’t that late, but I’d die if we ended up delivering a baby in a strip club. Try explaining that to the paramedics.
“No, it’s false labor. I’m told it’s normal in the last few months or so.”
“Wow, so you’re about to pop,” Jill marveled.
Krista scowled. “I’m not a balloon.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Avery mumbled.
I snickered.
“Screw you guys, especially you, Lauren. You’re supposed to be my sister in solidarity.”
“Because of my faux gestations? I wonder if I could work up a hysterical pregnancy like dogs do.” I widened my eyes at Krista. “Would that make you feel better?”
“Only if you actually get fat and milk shoots out your nipples.”
“That would be superawkward to explain at work.”
“But think of the credence it would add to the story you told your boss,” Avery pointed out. “What are you doing about that anyway?”
“Hell if I know. I guess I’ll lose the baby in a few weeks, and I feel horrible saying that when women are going through it for real.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jill said, surprising me. “If you didn’t work for such a complete creeper, you wouldn’t even be in this situation.”
“True,” Krista said. “Somebody should teach that asshole a lesson.”
On stage, Gold Lamé Grandpa took an impressively limber bow. The guys at the next table whistled as he walked off stage. Avery propped her chin in her hands, an odd and disturbing darkness in her green eyes. With one fingertip she ringed the top of her glass.
“It’s true,” she said quietly. “He should definitely pay.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In early April Rob finished the kitchen and cooked dinner for us, which we ate in the gorgeous dining room. It was amazing how much progress he’d made on the house—and how much I’d actually helped, if less so in the past month since I started at the dealership. Though I missed lending a hand, it was good to have money coming in.
But we made sure to record weekly vlogs, and his views just kept increasing. At last count, he had an incredible number of subscribers. Rob didn’t seem to realize how much promotion I was doing at night after I went home. He also didn’t know about the ads I’d purchased for him, promoting his business. He was adorably excited when the furniture orders starting coming in. Not a ton, one or two a week, but it was more than he’d expected.
Maybe one day, he can make a living at this.
That night, I mentioned buying a car, but Rob shook his head. “That makes no sense. Just drive the truck, it’s not like I’m using it. Save your money for tuition.”
I started to argue, then I decided it was smarter to keep quiet and do as I pleased. Since I’d never owned my own car, I wanted one, end of story. But I couldn’t think of a way to explain it that didn’t end with us arguing and me yelling, You’re not the boss of me.
The week after, he went back to working construction full-time. The weather had warmed enough to make that possible, and I paid for my first round of classes. With no other living expenses, I didn’t give up on the idea of my own wheels, however, no matter what Rob said. So six weeks after I started at the car lot, I got one of the salesmen to make me a deal on a trade-in. My credit was nonexistent, so he took $500 down, subsequent payments to be deducted from my paycheck for the next eighteen months, after which point I’d own my car outright. So working for Davies had some perks after all.
After work, I drove home to meet my mom. Rob had a longer drive since he worked outside of Sharon, and I’d felt a bit sneaky enlisting my mom to help me return his truck on the sly. But she approved of untangling our affairs because “it’s a bad idea to be dependent on someone you’re dating.” Based on what I’d seen when her life disintegrated, she wasn’t wrong.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, parking behind me in Rob’s driveway.
“He might yell at me. I’ll get over it.” Truthfully I couldn’t picture it. I already felt like a bitch, as if I was chucking his kindness back in his face.
“If you say so.”
The back door of his garage wasn’t 100 percent secure if you knew how to jiggle it. I let myself in and hit the button on the garage, then put Tessa Green-tea safely away. Pondering for a moment, I tucked the keys inside the visor. Should be safe enough. After checking to make sure the place was secure, I pushed the panel and ducked out the front to my mom’s waiting car. It wasn’t cold, so she had the windows down, and the air smelled damp and green, the trees all around just starting to bud.
“He’s really got some gorgeous property. The house needs some work, though.”
From the outside, I agreed. He’d been focused on the inside, making it beautiful and livable, so the paint was chipped and peeling, the gutters needed to be cleaned after the long winter and the roof would probably need to be replaced in the next year or so.
“Let’s get out of here before he catches us.”
Laughing, my mom drove us to the dealership, and we didn’t see Rob’s red truck along the way. I was beyond excited when we got there. The final paperwork was ready, so I signed off, took the documentation and the keys and practically sprinted out to claim my beautiful, pre-owned Honda Civic, nicely nondescript in charcoal-gray. But the garage guys promised me it was reliable, and if it turned out they were lying, well, I knew where to find them.