Page 46 of Bad Attitude
And how has he gone straight to the two points bugging me the most?
No, the bank job isn’t bugging me.Declanis bugging me, and he’s related to both of them. Damn it.
“Give a girl five minutes to get settled before you interrogate her,” I mutter to my window, and change the subject to something… safer. “So how’s Dad?”
“Not so bad. He was admitted on Thursday, a day under observation yesterday, home last night. Beta blockers and thinners. He’s fine, a bit tired.”
“Good… I guess.” I brace myself. “And Mom?”
“Still the same,” he says with a wry note. “A little disappointed she can’t attend the Relief Society today as Dad’s unwell.” He glances across at me. “She prays for you every day.”
“Which means nothing,” I reply. “She prays for everyone every day.”
“True, but she praysespecially hardfor you.”
“Wastes her timeespecially hard, you mean.” If there’s a god, he hasn’t seen fit to cross my path. Unless three orgasms count.
Caleb pulls onto I-80, swings into the outside lane, and floors it. The bucket seat presses into my back.His Mustang doesn’t corner too well, but it does all right in a straight line.
Salt Lake City valley floor is depressingly flat, ringed by mountains on the horizon that never seem to get any closer, but the family home is in Holladay, pushing up toward the mouths of the canyons, and I actually prefer it there. Save that the family home doesn’t feel like home at all.
We talk as we drive, mostly catching up on childhood memories, because we don’t know what each of us has been doing for the past six years. And it saves me having to think about what I’ve been doing for the last twelve hours.
Then Caleb drops a bomb.
“So KaeLynn is at the house.” His tone has softened.
“Sounds like a nice Mormon girl,” I say tentatively.
“Mmm, she is. Mom and Dad approve.”
“And you?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral. I didn’t think Caleb was leaning religious.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Her dad is a senior partner at the bank.” A guilty glance my way. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s not why I’m with her. But it does mean I have to…” A wince. “…be more conservative.”
“Commiserations.”
“Thanks,” he says dryly, then accelerates past ninety to overtake a line of cars, like the rebellion of speed makes up for the chains closing around him. Maybe we’re not so different, in some respects. “She’s nice, though. You’ll like her.”
“Molly Mormon?”
“Not so much.” His mouth curls up. “We’ve already broken a few rules.”
Slept together, in other words. “Does Mom know?”
“Fuck, no. Could you imagine?” He gives a mock shudder, then looks across at me. “On which note, are you… uh… going to wear that?”
He means my jeans and strappy top. I did think of changing, but couldn’t be bothered. “I brought a dress for tomorrow, if I stay that long.” Unless I can get out of going to church. Unlikely.
“And does it cover the tats?” A pause. “They’re cool, by the way. I like them.”
“Depends which ones you mean,” I reply, and leave it at that.
Caleb chuckles, and a moment later, pulls into the drive. “Well, if you give Mom a heart attack, maybe we’ll get a two-for-one discount at the hospital.” He opens his door. “Should be fun, either way.”
I get out with a sense of trepidation, wondering why I bothered to come, or how long I’m going to stay. In retrospect, once every three years seems overly enthusiastic. Yet here I am, running as far away from Declan as I can get, even if it means spending time with my soulless mother.
Caleb walks straight in, the front door open, and I follow a few paces behind. The house hasn’t changed. White walls, double garage at the front, extension on the roof, subtle little signs to elevate it above the neighbors and straining the more-devout-than-thouvibe.
