I really need to get out of here.
* * *
He follows me home. I argued with him for a good ten minutes but gave up when he pointed out that he didn’t need my agreement. I got in my car and thought about gunning the engine but instead decided to drive ten miles below the speed limit just to piss him off. Only joke’s on me because Higgins is the one that gets mad.
“What is taking you so long?” Mr. Higgins bellows through the phone when I’m about a mile away.
“Traffic’s heavy.” I reply quickly. It’s his fault. I don’t know the last time I felt so off balance. Maybe it was when my mom took off for Chicago with her boyfriend. I came home from school and she had three bags packed. At least she waited and said goodbye. Since I was only a few days from graduation, I didn’t need her anymore, she’d declared. She wished me well and then said she’d call. She did…five days later. She’d gotten to the big city and settled in. She was vague about how she was going to earn money and I didn’t ask because even at the age of eighteen, I’d already learned that there were some questions you didn’t want to know the answers to.
She still calls sporadically. About every month or so, more often if she needs some cash. I don’t even know if she’s with the same guy she left with. Mostly, I’m glad to be alone. I have the job Mr. Higgins gave me and it pays all my bills. I might not have a lot left over, but it’s honest work. Sometimes I get lonely, but I have books to read and television shows I can watch or games on my computer. I’ve never been one that needed a lot of companionship so it’s weird how I keep checking my rearview mirror to make sure Nick hasn’t given up on me.
Mr. Higgins is standing in the driveway with his hands on his hips when I pull up. I barely have time to get out of the car before he stomps over and shakes his finger at me. “Girl, I was worried about you. This town is small enough that I can stand here and piss to the other side but you took a half hour.”
“I think something might be wrong with her vehicle, sir,” says a dry voice from over my shoulder.
Mr. Higgins abandons me immediately.
“Who the hell are you?”
Nick doesn’t make Higgins wait like he did me. Instead, he sticks out his hand immediately and says, “Nick Hall.”
To my extreme delight, Higgins looks at Nick’s hand like Nick’s a murderer.
“I don’t know you,” Higgins says bluntly.
Nick smoothly retracts his hand and nods. “I moved here with my gran a week ago.”
“Your gran…” Higgins thinks. “Nurse Pat’s working for you, isn’t she?”
Is it my imagination or does Nick stiffen at that question? I can’t tell because his smile is the same and he answers easily. “She sure does, although we don’t need her as often as we did when we first arrived.”
“The Alison place was rented fully furnished, I hear.”
The smile on Nick’s face dims by a full wattage. He’s bothered by these questions. I lean against the car and watch him squirm. He had me at a disadvantage at his house and then by insisting on following me home. Turnabout is fair play or whatever the saying is.
“I’m not much of a decorator and my gran isn’t either. It seemed like the smart thing to do. So do you live here with Birdie?” Nick gestures toward the small apartment complex next to the Wash-n-Go that I reside on top of.
“Yeah,” he confirms. He owns the whole small building. “What is it that you do?”
“Help my gran out.”
“Where’d you live before? Leonora, the gal who sold you the Alison place, said you don’t have any family here.”
Nick’s smile nearly disappears. Looks like Mr. Higgins did some digging while I was gone. “From Chicago. Gran was tired of the city and wanted a nice town to retire to.”
“Why Lakeville? It’s small, dying, and doesn’t even have a lake,” Higgins replies.
The questions are getting to Nick. He scrubs a hand over his short blond hair before leaning over and snatching the plastic container of shells out of my grip and shoving it toward Higgins like a peace offering. “These are for you.” He tries to change the conversation.
“Nick made them,” I chirp although I don’t know why I’m helping Nick get out of the interrogation.
Higgins gives the container a suspicious look but doesn’t move to take it. “So you’re between jobs or are you living off your grandma’s Social Security check or what?”
It’s such a rude question that I expect Nick to be offended but instead he bursts out laughing, folding in half like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Higgins and I exchange confused glances. After howling for what seems like five minutes, Nick straightens and wipes a hand against the back of his eyes. “Whew. I needed that. Am I living off of Gran’s Social Security check. To be honest, sir, I sort of am, but not forever. And don’t worry. I have a good enough job that I’ll be able to take care of Birdie when I marry her.”