And now he’s being ferreted away to the Boat House when all he wants to do is sink down on his sofa in the privacy of his own home, daydreaming about Ethan until it’s time to call him.Reliving every single second of it.
“Jackson!” Charleigh snaps, thwacks him on the thigh.
“Oh, sorry. Um, yeah, Luke? He seems…nice but edgy?”
“Exactly.” Charleigh punches the gas after she turns onto the highway, as if she can’t get to her next cocktail fast enough. “So he’d be perfect for Nellie. But I totally fumbled back there. Did you hear us?”
“No, I was playing nice with Ethan, keeping him out of your way. What happened?”
A ragged sigh oozes out of her. “He’s got a girlfriend. He said Nellie was cool, though, so there’s potential.”
“Except that he’s already dating someone—”
“Yeah, Nellie thinks it’s fuckingBlair, even though she’s with the town football star. But she’s a little whore like her mother. I know for a fact Monica wants to mount Ethan. That’s therealreason she was out there today—”
“A fact, huh?”
“Okay, not afact, just a suspicion.”
She best keep her grimy hands off him, Jackson thinks.
She swerves into the parking lot of the Boat House, tires shrieking underneath them.
“You ever thought about getting new friends?” he teases Charleigh.
“Naw, that’s what I got you for, honey.”
“Lucky me!” Jackson hoots.
“Hey!” she replies, mock hurt.
“So, if Lukeisseeing Blair, then—” Jackson asks.
“Nellie seems unfazed by it. So—”
“So why did we go out there?”
Charleigh scoffs. “Toinvestigate. Gather intel.”
“Poke around where you’re not wanted.”
“But yeah, and if heiswith Blair, I will find a way to fuck that up. Free him up for Nellie.”
“You’re just as twisted as she is.”
“You’re damn right. But don’t think for a sec that Monica wants her precious baby dating that punk. So…”
Jackson pops open the door, sticks a leg out. “Enough! Being a parent is a mind fuck. Being a friend to a parent, an even bigger one.”
“That’s why the drinks are on me.”
41
Jackson
The night heaves around Jackson. The wind is still one minute, gusty the next, nicking his face from different directions, wringing the necks of the pine trees—sooty against the night sky—that line the walk to the pond.
He can’t believe he’s out here, but he couldn’t stand it one second longer.
