13. Will
WILL
Imust have driven within range of a cellphone tower because six texts hit my phone at once. All from Miles. He wanted me to send nudes every morning so he could adjust my workouts, he got me a local gym membership, and he fired off four separate messages forbidding me from drinking beer.
I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and glanced at the navigation screen. Almost there.
Getting to Derek was going to be tricky. He was staying at the same inn as Tony, his overprotective manager, and Tony had already made it clear Derek had no interest in being my friend again.
Whatever I did, I couldn’t seem too desperate. The whole world already thought I was a homicidal stalker.
If I bided my time and played it cool, though, showed Derek I was only interested in friendship, maybe he’d come to trust me again. Derek used to tell me everything. He’d lie on the couch in my trailer and complain about the women he was fucking. Sometimes, he’d even fall asleep there.
The exit ramp to Chelmsford, Vermont dumped me onto a pale gray road stitched together with veins of black tar.
Across the street stood a gas station that sold guns and tackle, whatever the fuck tackle was.
I turned left and drove down the narrow street, which was so faded and weather-beaten I could hardly see the yellow lines running down the middle. Wasn’t Vermont supposed to be quaint?
I kept expecting a town to materialize—a restaurant, a hotel, a McDonald’s, even—but other than one Dunkin’ Donuts, there was nothing. And what was with all the orange lilies? Every sagging white house had a log fence out front surrounded by a row of tall orange lilies.
“In one mile, turn right onto Wild Oaks Road,” my GPS said.
I was pretty sure I’d signed something saying I wouldn’t drive my rental car on dirt roads, but what was I supposed to do, park and walk?
Wild Oaks Road was so poorly maintained that a line of grass ran down the center.
Trees with trunks as thick as elephants stood sentinel on either side, arching overhead to create a continuous canopy.
It was like the Norman Rockwell version of the Lincoln Tunnel.
Beyond the trees, meadows teemed with bright yellow dandelions.
Clearly, the GPS was fucked, or Google had a twisted sense of humor, because it announced, “You have arrived,” just as I reached an ancient cemetery, the lichen-covered gravestones broken and leaning.
I drove a little farther and found the sign for the estate. “Indian Meadows,” it read, because of course it did. Leave it to my mother to find the one property in liberal Vermont that was racist.
The house was massive. Mom claimed it was a refurbished farmhouse, but if any of the original structure remained, it was buried deep inside.
This place was bigger than the large white barn beside it.
It had a wraparound porch, forest-green shutters, and baskets of purple flowers hanging between white columns.
I parked next to James’s Toyota 4Runner and sighed. At least in a house this size, I’d be able to keep to myself. I had no intention of buddying up with Mom’s newest boy toy.
Speaking of which, James jogged down the stone path in a white tank top and silver aviators, looking like a redneck porn star. Fuck my life.
“You made it.” James opened my door, and I came face-to-face with the crotch of his dusty jeans. “Just in time for dinner. You hungry?”
Was that a trick question? “Not especially.”
All the air conditioning escaped from my car, replaced by a warm blanket of humidity.
Like any good New Yorker, I knew better than to breathe through my nose.
Yet, even so, I was assaulted by the stench of lilac and something that smelled suspiciously like cum.
Was that a plant, or had I already lost my sexually repressed mind?
James leaned against my car and took a drink from a can of Pbr. “Okay, well, I’ve got you all set up in the room next to mine. Your stuff is already in there.”
“My stuff?” My stuff was in garbage bags in the trunk of my car.
“Yeah, your mom left you a bunch of clothes and a credit card.” Little tufts of rusty blond hair poked out from under his tan arms. “And a package arrived this morning from Miles. I think it’s a pull-up bar.
I put that in your room, too. Oh, and your dad sent over a copy of the script and a call sheet. They’re both on your desk.”
Jesus Christ. Was I sweating already?
James gave me a crooked grin. “You look like you could use a margarita. I noticed it was near the top of your list of prohibited drinks, so I figured you must like ’em.
I’m a lousy bartender, but Theo is pretty good in the kitchen.
I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. He’s been marinating the chicken all day, so when you do get hungry, you’re in for a real treat.
Come on, I’ll help you carry your stuff in. ”
“You don’t have to do that.” I didn’t need James making fun of my lack of suitcases.
“It’s not charity, dude. I’m getting paid.”
“To babysit the dog, not me.” I leaned against the hatch to keep him from opening it.
He looked like he wanted to say something—probably that Mom was, in fact, paying him extra to babysit me—but he just drank his beer instead.
My room was the last one on the left. It had a king-sized bed and a private bathroom with a clawfoot tub and a stand-alone shower. It shared a balcony with the room next door, James’s room. Hopefully, James and Mom would keep their fucking contained to her room. I didn’t need to hear that shit.
My therapists had assured me I wasn’t insane, but sane people didn’t grow up jacking off to fantasies of their mother’s boyfriends or get drunk and try to murder their crushes.
The balcony looked out over a stone patio and a decent-sized swimming pool.
There was a manicured lawn that sloped down to the lake, where a dock and a small boathouse stood.
The lake was narrower than I expected, not much wider than the Hudson River, and I could see all the way across to the blue peaks of the Adirondack Mountains on the other side.
A comically tall, lanky boy came out onto the patio with a large bowl of chicken breasts and began grilling them.
He wore dark hipster glasses and a black Joy Division T-shirt.
He closed the grill, and as he turned to go back inside, he looked up and locked eyes with me.
He jumped about a foot in the air, and then, before I could say hello, ran inside.