Chapter 19
I’ve felt many things since I’ve been here in Singing River—doubt, dread, relief, attraction, lust, but jealousy? Well…now, that’s a new one.
My morning started with a call from Mike at the mechanic’s shop letting me know that Penny’s tires came in. He said I could head over to have them mounted. I opted for a whole new set, because it’s only a matter of time until she’ll need them anyway. She always leaves her keys hanging on the hook in her kitchen, so I grabbed them and drove her car to the shop. I went ahead and asked Mike if he’d fix anything else that needs it.
While I waited, I ran to the hardware store to grab the things we’ll need for studio repairs. She picked out the paint color the other day and I handed the paint chip to the employee, telling him I’d be back soon to pick it up. I decided it was a good time to run across the street to check out the record store I’ve wanted to visit since my first weekend here.
And here I am now, looking at that familiar red mane of hair through the window. But when some fuckwad wraps his arms around her, my reptilian brain takes over. Before I have time to give it a second’s thought, my arms are around Penny and I’m introducing myself as her boyfriend.
The guy extends his hand, introducing himself as Eric. The green flare of jealousy burns even hotter at his name. This is the man who had the privilege of years—fucking years—with this woman, and he was willing to give it all up. What a stupid piece of shit. Meanwhile, I’ll take whatever scraps and pieces she’ll give me while I’m here.
On Eric’s head is a dumb newsboy cap like it's not a hundred degrees outside, and he’s sporting a ridiculous mustache that’s curled up on the edges. He wears plaid golfing shorts, looking like a total douche. I’ve never seen someone walk around in public looking so stupid, and that's not the green monster thrashing around thinking for me. Absolutely not.
“Austin, this is Eric, who I told you about. He’s here in town for his mom’s birthday.” Penny's eyes are flashing warning signs my way. If I’m reading her correctly, the look is screaming at me not to make a scene.
I grit my teeth so hard I’ve probably ground my molars to dust, but I muster all the southern politeness my aunt instilled in me and give him a curt nod of my head.
“Eric, it was great to see you. Tell your mom happy birthday, and give the rest of them my love. We need to get going.”
Penny drapes her arm through mine, and before I can stop myself, I call out, “Nice meeting you, Alec.” It comes out on a growl, and even with the wrong name it still tastes like ash in my mouth.
When we turn around, I realize Josie witnessed everything. She’s barely able to contain her laughter, her shoulders shaking from it.
Penny leads me over to her, and Josie says a bit too loudly, “Age has not been Alec’s friend.” She’s officially my second favorite person on earth.
I throw my head back and laugh.
“So what are you up to today, boyfriend ? Or should I say caveman? What even was that?” Penny emphasizes the word boyfriend, teasingly.
This pulls a grin from me, but I shrug, shaking my head. “I don’t know what came over me.”
I hear a low “mm-hmm” from Josie and cut my eyes to her. She’s wearing a shit-eating grin.
“You ladies wanna grab some lunch? I’m out running errands downtown today. My treat,” I offer.
“I actually need to get back home.” Josie glances down at her phone. “Abby’s in a shit-ton of trouble. I need to get back to her and Jay.”
“You want some lunch, or you got somewhere you need to be, too?” I ask Penny since it's just the two of us.
“Actually, I’m all yours.”
“Are you now?” I lower my voice an octave, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.
“Shut up,” Penny teases, putting her hand over my mouth. “You know what I mean. Yes, I’m available for lunch.” She hooks her arm back through mine, and we head across the street to the diner.
We slide into the vinyl seats across from each other, and the new girl who Jackson just hired hands us sticky menus while talking over her shoulder to the busboy. When she turns to take our drink order, her eyes widen. Although I’ve gone on my morning run and braved the crowds at the festival, there are still plenty of people in town I haven’t run into. Apparently, our waitress is a fan by the way she keeps fumbling over her words.
Finally, she manages to squeak out, “Drinks?”
Penny gives her a reassuring smile and orders a Coke Zero and I order the same. The waitress goes to put in our drink order, and I look over the menu.
“So what's going on with Josie’s girl?” I ask while I debate between the Reuben and Philly Cheesesteak.
Penny sighs. “Abby really wants to fit in, same as every girl her age. She gives in to peer pressure easily. Last night, she was at a friend's house and they snuck a couple of boys in. The kid’s mom called Josie in the middle of the night to pick her up.”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “Was anything going on?” I think about that sweet kid wearing her Austin James shirt.
“Fortunately, no. They were only watching TV. Josie was understandably livid, though. She really beats herself up about her kids not having a dad,” she replies.
We’re interrupted as the waitress sets our drinks down and takes our food order. When she walks away, we continue our conversation.
“Josie seems like a good friend to you,” I say, watching the way her face softens at the mention of her friend.
“Oh, she’s the best. We balance each other out. Sometimes I talk her down from things, and sometimes she talks me into things.”
“What’s she say about this?” I ask, motioning between us.
Penny laughs, but avoids eye contact with me as redness dots her cheeks. “I’m not telling you the things she says about us. She’s fearless in ways that I’m not.”
The waitress arrives with our food interrupting our conversation once more, and we’re both quiet while we eat.
Between bites of fries, she speaks up again. “What all did you do this morning?”
“You’ll see. I have a surprise for you,” I tell her.
Penny doesn’t say anything else; she just cocks her head to the side with narrowed eyes.
She insists on picking up the check this time, which I reluctantly agree to. After we’ve finished and she’s paid, I lead her down the road in the direction of the mechanic’s shop.
When we approach, I know the instant she sees her old Honda Civic sitting out front. Her steps falter and she whips around to face me. That fire that first drew me to her in the first place is back in her eyes, but I have to say, I don’t love that it’s directed at me right now.
Mike comes out to greet us, and she plasters on a polite smile. “Hey there. You’re all set. We got a new set of tires mounted, changed out some belts, and topped off some fluids. She’s in pretty good shape for such an old car.” He hands me the service ticket and drops Penny’s keys in her hand.
“Thanks, Mike. I’m sure you did a great job.” He tips his head and turns back to his shop, throwing a greasy towel across his shoulder as he goes.
Penny watches me pocket the slip of paper, shaking her head. “I don’t know how I feel about you doing this.”
Swallowing hard, I say, “Well, that’s not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”
“Don’t get me wrong, this is so sweet and thoughtful. But I’m not used to someone doing things like this for me. I’ve been fine walking everywhere until I save up the money.” Penny starts walking around her car, running her hand up the hood. “This is the last real gift my dad gave me. I’d never really cared if I had my own car or not since we walked around town half the time anyway, but when I got my scholarships to Alabama, he was so proud and kept saying I’d need a way to get around. On the morning of my graduation, I walked into the kitchen and he was standing there holding the keys. He had one of those enormous red bows on it and everything.”
She smiles to herself, thinking back at the memory. “I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate this. Thank you, truly. This means a lot,” she says in earnest.
We drive over to the hardware store to grab the paint, then head to her house to unload. She’s quiet on the short drive, and when we pull up to her house, she doesn’t cut the engine immediately.
“Austin?” she begins. Unease washes over me at the tone of her voice, the same feeling I always get when I can tell someone is about to call me out on my bullshit.
“You know I’d still like you even if you didn’t spend money on me, right? I know the other night you said you never know who’s using you for money and who isn’t. I don’t know if some sort of pattern formed or what. But you don’t have to buy me. I’m in this with you.”
Her words strike a nerve that she doesn’t even realize was there to hit. Cassie always says the same thing. She’s told me over and over I have a pathological need to be liked, and now that I have money, I use it to try to make people like me. Growing up I figured people liked me because I was good at sports. I won games for my team. In college I was the cool guy with the guitar. Emotions roil inside me. Do I realize I’m enough without spending money on people? Honestly, I’m not sure.
“Yeah, Penn. I do,” I say, climbing out of the car to get changed for a day of painting. That’s all the response I can muster right now.
I quickly change into old clothes that I won’t mind getting ruined by paint splatters, and head back downstairs to get to work. Penny meets me in the driveway, and I’m surprised to see she’s also wearing paint clothes with her hair pulled up and looped into the back of a University of Alabama ball cap. She smirks at me as she eyes my Texas Longhorn hat.
After our conversation in the car, I’m not feeling too playful. Instead of returning the smirk, I walk over and snake my arm around her waist, tugging her against me. Surprise flashes in Penny’s eyes, but she quickly catches on when my mouth lands on hers. She’s turning me inside out, and I don’t know what to do with it. The only thing I know right now is that I’m all in with her.
She’s the first to pull away, a puzzled look in her eyes.
“I’ve still got a lot of work to do on myself. I just want you to know I’m trying.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon painting in an easy silence. There’s no pressure to fill it, and if she’s anything like me, we both have a lot on our minds. She has her phone hooked up to a speaker with ’90s country playing as we paint, me cutting in the edges, and her doing the broad strokes with the roller.