CHAPTER FIVE
As they rolled into the driveway, concluding a silent ride back, Carver’s attention was pulled to the garage on the right side of the house.
The door was open, which was unusual; his parents mostly used the garage for storing skis and golf clubs and only put their cars inside when the weather forecast was bad.
Scott was inside, leaning against his beat-up black Chevy van with a weary look, talking to someone who was out of view.
Carver and Doug exited the car and were greeted by Chip, who was standing at the edge of the driveway, drinking from a can of Diet Coke and scrolling on his phone.
“What are you doing out here?” Doug said.
“Avoiding getting roped into work,” Chip said.
Doug chuckled. “Well, you’re out of luck. Go ahead and get that bag of wine out of the backseat for me.”
Chip groaned, and Carver said, “Dad, I’ve got it.” He had already opened the backseat door to grab it, in fact.
“No,” Doug said without looking at him. “It’s fine. Let your brother get it.”
Chip came over, sighing, and nudged Carver out of the way. Carver let him and said, “Then I’m gonna, uh —” and indicated the garage.
Neither of them paid any attention to this. Carver strode away, following the curve of the driveway over to where it branched off into the garage’s separate inlet.
He shouldn’t be scurrying over to Scott, but he almost couldn’t help himself, as if running his tongue over a toothache.
He still didn’t want to be alone with him — he wouldn’t have gone over if it hadn’t been clear that there was someone else in the garage — but their conversation at the country club had roused his curiosity.
Carver had thought he was alone in his prolonged dwelling about their high school entanglement, but now he knew Scott was still thinking about it too.
Even if he just felt guilty for what he’d said the last time they spoke, this was interesting.
Why was he still thinking about this shit in 2019?
What about Carver could possibly stick to the ribs of a free-spirited drifter with a woman in every port?
As he walked up to the garage, an acrid smell greeted him.
Scott glanced over at him and waved hello.
There was someone lying on a creeper underneath Scott’s van, only visible by their boots and pants.
After a moment, they slid back out, and Carver saw it was his cousin Letty.
She sprang to her feet, wiping her greasy hands on a rag.
There were smudges of grease and dark fluid all over her, including across her face and throughout her dark blonde hair.
“Hi Carv,” she said, smiling at him. Though they barely talked now, they always got along well. They were only four months apart, and she was more like him than his siblings — little, wiry, frenetic. To Scott, she said, “So…”
“No,” Scott said, bringing his hands to his head in agonized resignation. “Don’t tell me I’m right.”
“Look, you know I’m not a professional, but yeah, I think the transmission is shot.”
Scott heaved a sigh, then brought his fist down on the hood, making the metal sing. “Son of a bitch.” He seemed to rethink this a moment later, and patted the car where he’d hit it. “Sorry. Son of a fucking bitch.”
Letty grabbed a fresh rag from the toolbox near her feet and continued trying to wipe her hands clean. “I’m sorry, man.”
“I’m gonna have to get it towed all the way back to Jersey.”
“Someone around here can do the work.”
“I already called and got some quotes.”
“What’s the damage?”
“Four, five grand around here. And a few of them said they wouldn’t even work on something this old. My guy said he’d do it for two.”
Letty shrugged. “Okay. Let’s get it home then.”
Scott scratched his jaw with his thumb, smiling mirthlessly. “And what am I doing, hitchhiking?”
“No, you can borrow my bike, don’t be a fucking baby,” Letty said, smiling back. “Honestly, you can keep it. It’s just been sitting here in my parents’ garage, and as of tomorrow I’m no longer a biker, per Sana.”
“I thought you guys were already married,” Carver said.
“Look who’s paying attention,” Letty said, turning her smile on Carver. “Yeah, well, she gave me until tomorrow anyway, she’s a very generous woman. But you know how it is.”
Carver affected an expression like he knew how it was.
Truthfully, Lillian had never really banned him from anything.
If anyone was instituting bans it was him.
He’d had to ban her from cocaine last year after she kept waking him up at 2 a.m. so he could check her math on some acquisition boondoggle.
“Keep it?” Scott said. “Letty… I’m not gonna take from you like that, not right now when you’ve got bills.”
“Oh, please. I’d pay you for tomorrow, you know I would.”
“And I don’t want you to,” he said. “I promised I’d play for free.”
“We were fifteen,” Letty said. “You know I don’t actually hold you to that, as much as I like to joke.”
“If the bike’s just gonna rust otherwise, I’ll take it, but you gotta let me pay you for it.”
“Fine,” Letty said. “Twenty bucks.” She stuck out a still-greasy hand.
Scott swatted it away. “I’ll pay book value.”
“Motherfucker, you will not. Shut up already. I’m getting married tomorrow, you’re not allowed to be maudlin.”
“Ah, I’m not maudlin,” Scott said, though he did look it as he stared at the puddle of dark fluid that had crept out from underneath the van.
“This piece of shit has two hundred thousand miles on it, and you’re gonna put another two hundred thousand on her,” Letty said. “Or, you know, you’ll buy another van. Save your tears for people and animals. Listen, I need to go shower and get ready.”
Carver tensed. Great, now he had to figure out how to make an exit of his own.
“Go, go,” Scott said, flapping his hand. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“No, I’m happy to help,” Letty said. “As soon as I go back in there they’re gonna do girl shit to me, I just know it.”
“Yeah, my mom is itching to, I’m sure,” Carver said. “Sorry.”
“No worries. I accepted her generosity, I knew what strings were attached. And your parents have been very chill, all things considered. After Sana mentioned she’s Afghan, your dad only asked her if she was a refugee once.”
Scott laughed. “Isn’t she from Northern Virginia?”
“Yep, grew up in a McMansion,” Letty said. She tossed the greasy rags into the open toolbox and waved to them both. “See you out there.”
They waved back as she bounded away and up the three stairs that led into the house, the door slamming shut behind her.
Carver slid his hands into his pockets and looked at Scott, who was now lying across the hood of his dead van like a widow on a casket.
It was kind of inconceivable to Carver that Scott was hurting for a few thousand dollars, considering he had to at least be making decent royalties from his one hit, if nothing else.
“You’re really not liquid, huh?” Carver said. Normally he didn’t dive into the topic of money with the less fortunate, but it was harder to obey social mores with someone he’d once known so well, at such a tender age.
“No,” Scott said, lifting his head. “I’m really not.”
“Any, uh… particular reason?”
Scott laughed good-naturedly, crinkling around the eyes. “Yeah, I’m bad with money.”
“Have you been, like, managed poorly?”
“Uh… yeah. At times. I don’t know. It’s just a tough business, honestly.
Fans are fickle and profit margins are thin, so everyone on the business end wants a huge cut, plus everything about it is expensive.
You end up reinvesting most of your profits, which is always a gamble, and one bad gamble can wipe out years of savings.
” He shot Carver a smile. “Especially if you’re bad with money. ”
Carver nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “My mom made some passing comment about your back taxes.”
Scott put his head back down on the hood. “Okay,” he said, his voice tinny as it vibrated against the metal.
“Not to bust your balls or anything. I’m just wondering if I can help.”
“Ah, Carv. No, no. I wish she hadn’t said anything.”
“The interest, though,” Carver pressed on.
“I know,” Scott said.
“If you know, then…”
“I’m focusing on my credit cards, ‘cause the interest there is a lot worse. Can we not do this?”
“If you want, I can wipe that shit out for you and give you a consolidated loan at like, three percent,” Carver blurted out. What the fuck was he saying? Yes, he was a multimillionaire and Scott’s debt was almost certainly just pocket change to him, but what the fuck was he saying?
Scott lifted his head and shot him a warning look, one eyebrow cocked. “Hey, dude, all love and light, but you were standing right here while I was talking to your cousin. Do I sound like I want charity?”
“No, you sound like you need it. Why do you think we both offered?”
Scott stared at him for a moment longer, then started laughing. “You prick. You’re such a prick.”
Carver started laughing too. “Yeah, what, did you forget?”
“I did, actually,” Scott said. He shifted his hips, then stretched one long leg out behind him. “I forgot a few things about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like that. I don’t know. You keep making me feel seventeen again.”
This sentence arrested all motion in Carver. Suddenly rooted to the spot, he said, “In what sense?”
Scott surveyed him with warm eyes. “Uh… petulant, and stupid, and hard-headed. And like I want to show off.”
Fascinating. Carver waited and said nothing.
“You did say you were going to make something of yourself,” Scott said. “And you did. And I said I was gonna go be a star… and I’m still working on that.”