Chapter 10
When Vince came back downstairs, he was wearing a navy-colored, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of bright, cotton shorts.
I quickly turned away and pretended to be deep in conversation with Laurie, who was telling me about her marketing program at the University of Denver.
Our encounter in his bedroom made me uncomfortable on multiple levels.
For accidentally ending up in his room, for making a scene, for not having left immediately once he started to change, but, above all, because what he said was true.
I didn’t want to stay out of it. I didn’t want to accept that my godmother was acting like a tyrant or that Vince was holding her responsible for every little thing.
Somewhat unconsciously, I looked up and met his gaze.
He’d sat back down by the fire, right across from me.
He looked at me for another one or two seconds, then reached for his guitar, his left hand running up and down the neck, his right moving onto the strings.
“Aww!” Pili gushed when he began to play Edward Sharpe somehow or other we’d manage.
“Is it dangerous around here at night?”
The moon was casting its silver light onto the driveway. A breeze rustled through the palms, which were silhouetted against the sky.
“No, not at all.”
Wrinkling my brow, I followed him down the driveway to the street. As he walked quickly, I had to make an effort to keep up. Well, also because I knew about all the potholes and was worried about hurting myself.
“Could we walk a little more slowly?”
“I thought tennis consisted of running.”
“Yeah. Which is why I really don’t want to screw up all my ligaments again,” I replied sharply.
The slapping of his flip-flops stopped. He waited for me to catch up.
“Thanks,” I grumbled.
We walked on in silence.
“How’d that happen?”
The question was so out of the blue that my head snapped to the side. But it was too dark to make out his expression.
“I twisted my ankle at a match. Almost one year ago exactly. I tore six ligaments and had to have an operation.”
He uttered a simple “hmm” that was hard to interpret. I didn’t count on him saying anything else, but then he surprised me once again. “That sounds heavy.”
“Yeah,” I replied and was amazed at how skeptical a single word can sound. But because we were having an unbelievably normal conversation, it was warranted. “That’s why I haven’t played in almost a year.”
“I think I’d lose my shit if I couldn’t surf for a year.”
“Do you surf…professionally?” I asked and wrinkled my nose at how awkward that sounded.
“Like Chip? No. It’s just a hobby. Together with terrorizing my neighbors.”
It sounded more like a crack than a sneer, and a smile darted across my face.
“You forgot to add coming up with conspiracy theories.”
I thought I could hear him grinning. In the meantime, we’d reached Kay’s gate. The motion detector made the lights come on, and for a moment it felt like any second someone would shine a flashlight in my face.
“You should get inside before she sees you conversing with the enemy.”
“She’s not even home. On top of that, tomorrow morning I’m going to tell her where I was.”
“Will you ask her if she got all the other neighbors to join in her boycott?”
“Yeah,” I replied without any ado. “But the answer will be no. That’s simply not her style.”
“Not like filing a complaint, you mean.”
He sounded bitter, and I sighed. “That was a spur-of-the-moment reaction, I’m sure of it.”
When he began to say something—most likely that that didn’t make any difference—I added, “I’ll speak with her again. Maybe… Maybe I can get her to withdraw it or something.”
“And why would you do that?”
For a moment I wondered whether the question shouldn’t have been why Kay would do that.
My answer to that would have come a bit more easily.
Instead, I said, “Because you’re right. I don’t want to stay out of it.
” I tried to tone down the importance of my words a bit with a shrug, even if there wasn’t anything gloating in his expression.
A passing car broke the stillness.
“Thanks for walking me home.”
“No problem,” he mumbled. For an instant he looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. He just dug his hands into his pockets, turned, and disappeared into the dark.