20. Archie #2
I don’t want to use money to control people or manipulate them into doing what I want. I don’t want to love people only as long as they do what I want— be who I want. I don’t want to be oblivious to how my actions affect other people, or worse, know and not care. I don’t want to be a bully.
Most of all, I don’t want to lose the people I love most because I love money and power more than relationships.
But I worry that I’ve already started on that path, and the longer I stay on the path, the harder it will be to turn back.
The thought that I might be too late drives me to clear the kitchen counters of everything that doesn’t seem like it should be out.
I’m not sure where things go, but I find somewhere for them just to feel the sense of accomplishment that grows exponentially the cleaner the kitchen looks.
No amount of work, though, quells my fear that Dad is about to take everything away from me. The idea of starting from scratch terrifies me. I don’t want to give up the comforts I’ve always had. I’m not Frankie. I don’t have her kind of courage.
The fact that I’ve left the kitchen looking better than it did when Piper came home puts a bit of steel in my spine. I can learn new things. I can clean up messes. That’s a start.
It’s also the easy part. Convincing myself I’d be okay getting paid to clean up after people is still a fair stretch.
The next morning when I walk in the kitchen, Piper is already there, stretching on tiptoes to reach a tall cabinet.
Her oversized Kendrick Lamar T-shirt rises just enough to reveal the sleep shorts that graze the top of her thighs, and my thoughts skip to the other morning when she was in similar shorts and silky tank top thing.
I’m a Kendrick fan, but I’m a bigger fan of that silky top.
I drop my eyes before my face can get any hotter.
“Are you looking for your coffee?” I reach over her head to the top cabinet where I put her coffee last night. She steps to the side, and her t-shirt brushes my bare stomach, sending prickles of heat up my chest.
I take down the bag, quickly hand it to her, and take a giant step backward to put space between us. It’s hard to believe Piper only arrived last Friday. Barely a week ago, but my world has been turned upside down since then.
“Thank you?” Piper’s tone is both sarcastic and confused. She glances at the clock, then puts away the coffee on a low shelf. “I don’t have time to make it now.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I put it away when I cleaned up last night.”
“You cleaned last night?” She looks around the kitchen. “I guess you did.”
She sounds unsure, and my eyes unwittingly follow hers to the overflowing rubbish bin and the two full garbage sacks next to it.
“I’ll take those out,” I say quickly, rushing for the sack of bottles and cans without adding the reason why I didn’t toss them last night is that I’m not sure where the recycling goes. In the light of day, that seems an easy enough problem to solve.
I tighten the sack and carry it toward the door near the laundry room.
The side of the house seems a likely place to keep rubbish bins.
On my way, I catch a glimpse of my orange face in a decorative mirror on the wall.
My reflection does the trick of reminding me that I need to put an end to this prank war.
The fact is, as much as I relish tussling with Piper, I enjoy talking to her more.
Last night was a turning point. I learned more about Piper in the twenty minutes we spent alone than I’d bothered to learn in the entire decade I’ve known her.
After so easily finding the recycling bin that I’m embarrassed, I walk back into the kitchen.
Piper is at the stove cracking eggs into a pan.
She has one foot pulled up to her other thigh, as if she’s at yoga doing tree pose instead of standing in my kitchen making brekkie.
And it’s so adorable I have the sudden urge to stand behind her with my arms wrapped around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.
I want to make this vision a reality so badly that I can’t imagine ever being happy until I do.
I settle for standing near her, the small of my back against the counter near the stove. “You’ve officially won, by the way.”
She glances at me, confused, and I point to my face.
Her eyes widen behind her glasses, and she sends me an apologetic grin. “I was wondering when you’d notice. I’m sorry. I debated so many times whether I should tell you. I should have.”
“Nah, yeah. It’ll wash out sooner than the blond. How about we say between this and my perfume gag, we’re even?” I ask with a laugh.
Piper returns my laugh but shakes her head. “Except you get your product for free and I still have to replace my perfume.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, nah. Not since they quit using me in their ads in 2017.”
Her grin disappears. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. That face wash is more expensive than my perfume.”
I shake my head, then realize what she’s offered, and I can’t help myself.
Now that I understand her financial situation, I won’t let her give me money she doesn’t have, but she could do something else.
“If you really want to make up for it, you could mention the idea of a cash settlement to your mum.”
I’ve said it jokingly, but in a heartbeat, Piper’s expression changes from sorry to frustrated. “I’m not going to ask Mom to re-negotiate with Malcolm, Archie. Please stop asking.”
The hint of anger in her voice puts me on the defensive, and I’m ready to fire back. Then I remember what she said last night about me fighting her instead of Dad.
I have to quit running from that truth. Dad’s said no to my ideas dozens of times, but his reasons are always about himself. Piper, though, is saying no to protect her mum. That’s what’s fueling her resistance, and I can’t help admiring her loyalty to Cynthia.
“Okay,” I say softly. I want to say more, but I don’t want to make another mistake that will raise her wall higher.
Piper grabs a plate and scoops her eggs onto it, avoiding my gaze. “I need to eat and get ready for work.”
I nod and turn to leave the kitchen when I think of something I can do that could chip away at the wall she’s so determined to keep between us.
“Do you have plans for lunch?” I say, facing her again.
Her brows pull together. “Just eating leftovers in the Valente cafeteria.”
“Frankie lands later this morning,” I shrug, as if my heart isn’t pounding over what I’m about to ask. “We could swing by and pick you up for lunch, if you can get away. She’s keen on seeing you.”
Piper grips her plate and stares at me. When she finally blinks, I sense the barrier between us lowering. “Yeah. I’d like that,” she says slowly, before offering a grateful smile.
“I’ll pick you up at noon, then.”
I turn to leave again, smiling to myself, before remembering something else. “Let me drive you to work this morning,” I say over my shoulder.
Piper looks at me, surprised, then chuckles. “Go surf or work on your plans for Bombora. I’m fine on the bus.”
My chest swells a bit when she says Bombora . She remembered the name. “I can do all of that after I drop you. I didn’t like the look of those guys at your bus stop yesterday.”
“We already talked about this.” Piper shakes her head and carries her plate to the table. “They’re just people trying to get to work, same as me. I don’t need a ride, but…thank you.”
Her eyes dart to mine and the softness there pulls me closer. “Come on, Piper.” I slide into the seat across from her. “Let me make up for years of harassment by making sure you’re not harassed by blokes just out of jail.”
She laughs. “You’re showing your privilege again, Arch. I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need a driver.”
Logically, I know I should trust Piper to take care of herself, but all I can picture is guys twice her size and too jaded to be intimidated by her fierceness. In the past week, I’ve gained a grudging admiration for her stubbornness, but now she’s being na?ve on top of stubborn.
“Will you just let me do something nice for you, Piper?”
Slowly, she sets down her fork. Her eyes bore through me like she’s drilling for the core of who I am.
“Archie, let me be honest. I’m not sure if you’re being nice because you care or if you’re doing it to get what you want, the same way Malcolm does.
So, I’m going to turn down your offer for a ride this morning, but I’d still like to do lunch with you and Frankie. ”
Her words are firm and emotionless. For some reason, that hurts more than if she’d yelled. At least then I’d know she felt something more than irritation with me, especially in light of every thought I’ve had of kissing her.
Embarrassment and anger bubble in my chest, and I let my temper get the best of me. I push away from the table and walk to the back door, holding in the impending eruption as I slide open the door. “Quit mistaking me for my dad. We’re not the same.”
“Archie, I?—”
“—And try checking your own privilege. You’re living in this house for free, too, you know.” I don’t wait to hear her response. I shut the door and head for the beach.
I don’t have to trudge far through the sand before I’m deeply uncomfortable.
More uncomfortable than I’ve ever been about who I am or might become.
Losing my temper like I just did over something fairly minor isn’t who I want to be.
After what Dad and I have both put her through, Piper has every right to be suspicious.
She tried to say that as nicely as possible, and I over-reacted in a big way.
On top of that, I still haven’t shaken my worry over Piper riding the bus. Whatever her suspicions, I offered to drive her because I hate the idea of her being harassed, not because I want something from her.