A God in Carver (Carver High #1) Page 8

  “Nice. So not only do I have to participate in this little get together, but I have to host it too?”

  He gives me his biggest most dazzling smile. “Considering that I am Brandon Eastman, I’m pretty sure you have to give me whatever I want.”

  “Fine. But unlike at every other place in this town, you don’t get free shit at my house. Bring your own drinks and snacks.”

  “I’ll even bring dessert.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek before opening his door and getting out. “Thanks, Tatum. I’m… excited and… happy and I’ll see you around seven.”

  “See you,” I tell him, smiling as big as I can manage.

  He closes the door and I watch him as he practically skips over to his Mustang and pulls out of the lot. I sit there for a long time and eventually I start to cry.

  I try not to think too hard about what just happened because then I might realize that it was a pretty big deal. Five years. We have barely spoken in more than five years and just like that he’s back in my life. Having him that close to me, talking to him about… us. Just talking to him, like I used to do is bringing back all kinds of memories that I’ve tried hard to suppress. Memories of how it felt to have him in my life. Memories of the way I loved him when I was a kid and memories of how incredibly bad it felt after he was gone.

  Everything changed after he left me. Everything inside of me. Everything around me. It all changed and it’s scary to think about letting him back in.

  About having to think about the girl I was with him.

  12

  “Jesus, you’re not drunk at all,” Nash tells me when he shows up at my house.

  “I know. I’m too damn nervous to drink.”

  “Nervous? What the hell are you nervous about?”

  “She’s been cleaning for the last hour and a half. This house isn’t big enough to be cleaned for an hour and a half,” my mom tells him. “And hell, Tatum, you can’t shine a turd. Lysol isn’t gonna turn this place into one of their great big houses up on that hill.”

  “You’re worried about what Brandon and Summer are gonna think about your house? That’s stupid, babe. Both of them practically lived here when we were kids. And hell, Brandon’s so excited about getting to leave his sterilized, professionally decorated McMansion he’ll probably be offended by the shiny surfaces in your kitchen.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re right. I don’t know why I suddenly give a crap what those two think of me. I haven’t cared what anyone’s thought of me for years.”

  “Exactly. Who gives a shit what they think,” he says, pushing his hand into the neatly stacked tabloids on the coffee table.

  “Alright, you don’t gotta be an asshole. I just stacked those,” I tell him, putting them back in their pile.

  “You’re acting like a crazy person, you know that? Trish, get her a glass of wine. A big one.”

  “I’m on it,” she says, grabbing a giant mug that she got from the mini mart and bringing it to the fridge.

  When she hands it to me Nash starts chanting, “Slam it, slam it, slam it,” and my mom joins him. I do what they say and they cheer at the sight of my empty mug then my mom refills it.

  The three of us are getting good and drunk, listening to my mom’s old cd’s when Summer and Brandon are suddenly standing in my living room. My mom stands up and turns down Alice in Chains that was blaring so loud we apparently didn’t hear the knock on the door.

  Nash stands and slaps Brandon’s hand and gives Summer a hug but all I can do is look at them. Brandon looks elated, but Summer looks uncomfortable and out of place in her designer jeans and perfectly tailored button down shirt. “Sit down,” Mom tells Summer, taking the cookies from her hands and bringing them to the kitchen. She does. She sits next to me, her posture stiff and her hands folded on her lap. The guys follow my mom to the kitchen with Brandon’s cooler and bag of groceries.

  “Thanks for having us over,” Summer tells me.

  “It wasn’t really my idea, but you’re welcome.”

  “You’d think it was Christmas morning the way Brandon’s been acting since he went to talk to you,” she says with an uncomfortable laugh.

  “It is pretty damn exciting. Cards at the Austin house.”

  She lets out a sad sounding laugh and relaxes into the back of the couch. “I don’t know what’s up with him lately. It’s like he’s having a midlife crisis and he wants to relive his childhood. I think it’s because of what his family’s going through, you know? He wants to pretend like everything is still fine and dandy like it was when they were living next door to you.”

  “That little talk we had today didn’t quite get us to the point where we’re discussing our personal lives, so no, I don’t know.”

  The boys come back out then, Nash has a beer and Brandon has a Coke. “Get your asses over here,” Nash tells us. “We’ve got cards to play.”

  Summer giggles as she stands. She bends over and grabs a hold of my hands and pulls me up. She pauses then and her eyes veer to her surroundings like she’s just realized where she is. “I get it, I mean why he’s so excited. I always loved being here with you.”

  “Shangri- fucking- La,” I tell her and she laughs.

  “Maybe not to you, but for us, yeah, it kind of was.” She smiles at me and squeezes my hands. “Come on,” she says, pulling me over to the table, dropping me off at my seat before sitting down in hers. “Gosh, it’s been years since I played cards,” Summer says.

  “Perfect, ‘cause we’re playing for money,” Nash tells her.

  “It’s not like I forgot how the game works, Carter. And if I recall, I used to clean you out just about every time we played.”

  “I think it was Tatum who used to take all our money,” Brandon says, handing me the deck of cards, his fingers brushing over mine as he does so.

  “You’re right, and you’ve got a whole lot more of it now.”

  He pulls out his wallet and hands a hundred to Nash who’s doling out the chips.

  “Damn, you’re getting all serious on us, Eastman,” Nash says. “I might have to borrow some of your tip money, babe.”

  “It’s for both of us – me and Summer. If you can’t handle fifty you can give me back some change.” I think he’s playing with Nash, but I don’t like his condescending tone.

  I stand and go to my purse, pulling out my tip money from the last three days which I had intended to spend on groceries but decide to shove in Brandon’s face instead. I bring it over to Nash and tell him, “It’s all yours baby.” He pulls me down to his lap and kisses me through his laughter.

  “You got another hundred in that wallet, Eastman? My girl’s a high roller,” he says, slapping my ass as I return to my seat between Brandon and Nash.

  “I was planning on taking it easy on you, but yeah, I got hundreds all day long,” Brandon tells him, pulling out another one and slapping it on the table.

  “This was supposed to be fun,” Summer mumbles from across the table. “If you two are gonna act like immature jerks all night then I say Tatum and I leave you two to play your stupid game. We can find something better to do.”

  I laugh at that. “Sorry, girl, but I need your man’s money and I’m not leaving this table until I have all of it.”

  “Fine, but you’re gonna have to fight me for it,” she says, laughing.

  As I deal the cards I look around the table annoyed that I like what I see. Annoyed that I missed Summer and Brandon. Annoyed that for the first time in years I’m letting myself care about them. Yet, I’m smiling. I’m used to telling myself that I don’t need anyone. It’s easy to tell myself I don’t have time for friends. But now that I’m sitting here, with the last real friends I’ve had, I can’t help but feel a little bit happy. I can’t help that I kind of want them back.

  “Why do I feel like I’m getting played?” Nash says, leaning into Summer and tugging on her ponytail.

  “You can go ahead and keep your hands off her,” Brandon tells him.

&nb
sp; Despite my reluctant hopeful attitude at the beginning of the night, this evening isn’t turning out so awesome. Nice guy Brandon has been being a prick to Nash all night and in typical Nash fashion, he’s kept his easy smile and laidback attitude in tact through all of it and is retaliating by flirting heavily with Summer. The only upside is that they’re so distracted by the pissing match they’re having that they are both playing for shit. I’m up fifty and Summers not doing so bad herself.

  I’m relieved when the front door opens and Tally and Corey come walking through it. “Well isn’t this sweet,” my sister says, coming over to the table and laying her hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “Summer and Brandon are slumming it at the Austin house. How does it feel to be back in the old neighborhood, Eastman? I thought you were too good for the south side these days.”

  Brandon stands up and wraps his arms around Tally. “Just here doing some charity work. Giving my allowance to your sister,” he tells her. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s damn good to see you too,” she says, taking a step back, putting her hands on her hips and assessing him from head to toe. “Who knew that scrawny little kid who used to sneak peeks at my boobs every chance he got would turn into such a fine looking man.”

  “You used to walk around here in your underwear. How was I not supposed to look?”

  “I still do, you can come on over any time you want.”

  I walk over to Summer and pull her off her chair. “He’s got prettier things to look at now,” I tell Tally.

  My sister looks at Summer. “Yep, still completely gorgeous you little bitch,” she tells her affectionately, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. “You two are about the most perfect couple I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thanks,” Summer mutters. There are a few uncomfortable moments of silence and then Summer clears her throat and looks at Brandon. “I guess we should probably get going.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Tally says, pulling her further into the living room and turning up the stereo. “The party just arrived, let’s have some fun.” She grabs a hold of Summer’s hips and starts swaying with her.

  Summer laughs and says, “Yeah, okay, maybe for a little while.”

  Nash comes up behind me, grabbing my boobs and nuzzling my neck. “How are you doing?”

  I turn in his arms and wrap his body up in mine. “That was an interesting game of poker. What’s up with you two?”

  “Hell if I know. Kid was being a prick.”

  “You play nasty, you know that? Making a move on his girl.”

  “Kind of feels like he’s been trying to make one on mine.”

  “You gotta girl, Nash Carter?”

  “The finest one in Carver.”

  I kiss him then ask him, “You don’t really think that… that Brandon’s been trying to make a move on me.”

  “Based on the way he looks at you and the fact that you’re about all he’s been talking about for the last week… yeah, I kind of think that.”

  “Well he’s not and you should know him better than that. He wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “A week ago I would have agreed with you but he hasn’t been acting like himself.”

  “That’s what Summer said. She thinks it’s because of whatever is going on with him at home.”

  “Whatever. I’m not gonna hold anything against him. Never have. Never will.”

  “Come on, Carter, you’re dancing with me,” Corey says, pulling Nash out of my arms and dragging him to the living room. My mom has apparently ended the hour long phone conversation she was having that involved a lot of whispering and giggling. I don’t even want to know who was on the other end of that line. She’s got her arms around Brandon in a way that no mom should ever hold a high school boy. I laugh to myself as I look at the six of them dancing. It’s a scene straight out of a Saturday night in two thousand and ten.

  I sit my ass on the couch and smirk at the relief that washes over Brandon’s face when the phone rings and my mom runs into the kitchen to get it. He raises his eyebrows when his eyes meet mine and then he comes and sits by me. “Looks like Mom missed you… a lot,” I tell him.

  “When we were little I always thought she was the prettiest mom I had ever seen but something about that moment I just had with her felt incredibly wrong.”

  “Don’t get too scared, she’s had her eyes on Nash for quite a while now. You’re probably safe from her predatory ways as long as he’s around.”

  “The women love him. There’s no doubt about it.”

  He sounds a little pissed so I tell him, “He was only flirting with Summer ‘cause you were being a prick to him.”

  “I’m well aware of how he works. I don’t take his womanizing personally. I’m not quite sure how you put up with it though.”

  “Are you trying to get your best friend in trouble with his girl?”

  “Are you his girl? ‘Cause it seems like you’re pretty adamant about the fact that you guys aren’t together and he’s free to do whatever he wants with whomever he chooses to do it with.”

  “Seriously, Brandon. What the hell is wrong with you? You have a problem with Nash all of the sudden?”

  He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, turning around to look at me. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me lately. I’m gonna get some air,” he says, giving me a half assed attempt at a reassuring smile before standing and heading out the front door.

  I don’t like Moody Brandon. He’s a little bit scary and I don’t want to be the one that has to deal with his brooding ass but it looks like everyone else is having too much fun to do it for me. “Damn it,” I mutter, standing and heading out to the porch.

  Brandon’s standing with his hands on the railing, staring at the dilapidated piece of shit next door where he used to live. It doesn’t look as bad in the dark of night but it’s still obvious that it’s not the well maintained, beautifully landscaped home it used to be. “Roger would be ashamed,” I say about Brandon’s dad who took so much pride in his little house.

  “Roger wouldn’t give a shit. Roger doesn’t look back, just keeps moving forward.”

  “How are Roger and Bev doing?” I ask about his parents.

  He drops his head and shakes it. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin in order to answer that question.”

  I stare at his old house and try to picture his family being anything but perfect. I can’t. “When we were growing up I used to pretend that Beverly was my mom and Roger was my dad and that your little brothers and sister were mine too. I got in a fight on the playground in second grade when Katie Kapinski called me a liar when I said that you were my half-brother.”

  “Yeah, I remember. I had to pull you off of her then go along with your lie for an entire month before Katie busted you when your mom showed up for the Spring sing-along.”

  “I would have given anything to have a mom that made bacon and eggs in the morning and tucked me into bed at night. Or a dad who played ball with me in the yard ‘till the sun went down and carried me around on his shoulders. Or a little brother or sister I could boss around. I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now, but from what I remember, you had a pretty awesome family.”

  “I did, you’re right. Which makes what I have now that much worse. It makes me wonder what the point of all this is. What’s the point of trying to succeed? Where does success get you?

  “All I can see when I try to imagine how I want my future to turn out is that house and the family that lived in it. And you know who we were when we lived there? Nobody. Nobody, including my dad, cared how well I could throw a ball. He didn’t give a shit what anyone, but his kids and his wife, thought about him. My mom laughed at the ridiculous women on the North side of town who dyed their hair and painted their nails and drove to car pool in dresses like it was some high class function. We didn’t have anything but each other and it was the last time any of us were really happy.”

  My heart hurts for him but
I am nowhere near comfortable having a deeply personal conversation with him so I try to divert him via my sarcasm. “Well the good news is if that’s really what you want- to live in some shitty little house on the south side of Carver with your wife and a bunch of little kids- I’m pretty sure you can make that happen. At least you have a shot at getting what you want. At least you have options.”

  “I don’t know if I do, Tatum. Do you know how many people I’d be letting down if I didn’t take advantage of the offers I’m getting? If I chose to do something with my future other than play ball?”

  “It’s your life, Brandon. Not anyone else’s.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is.”

  He turns away from his old house and leans against the railing, facing me now. “What do you want?”

  “Not a whole hell of a lot, really. I just want to get out of this town. I want to live in a city where no one knows me. Where people care about things other than football. I just want to be a stranger in the real world.”

  “And why can’t you do that?”

  “Gravity.”

  “You can leave this town if you want to, Tatum.”

  “In order to leave my mom and sister behind I would have to have an excuse, like college for example. And I’m pretty sure no good excuse will ever come my way.”

  “It’s your life, Tatum, not anyone else’s.

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  He leans down and kisses my head. He’s about the only guy I know that has to lean over to reach me. It took him ‘till fourth grade to surpass me in height but he just kept on growing. “It’s not,” he says. “Trust me.”

  13

  On Monday when Summer comes bouncing over to the table in the cafeteria that I’m sitting at it almost feels normal. I’m guessing it doesn’t look normal, Summer and I don’t look like we run in the same crowd. The third person at our table is Angel. This concoction is probably throwing off the entire balance of Carver High. But it almost feels like she and I could be friends again. Like, after Saturday night, we are friends again.