Chapter 10
“You bought this house with your own money? Yeah, right. This house is worth millions.”
“I started working when I was a kid.” He pulls out of the driveway. “Grew up in LA and got my first acting job when I was five.”
“You’re an actor?”
“Not anymore. I used to be. My dad’s a director. I grew up in the industry. When you’re around those people, the jobs come to you. You don’t even have to work for it.”
It reminds me of the offer I got this morning. Brock’s agent could’ve got me an audition for a TV show even though I have no acting experience. It’s like Brock told me that day at lunch — show business is all about who you know.
“And you made enough money to buy this house?” I ask.
“The house. The furniture. The car. The money didn’t all come from acting. A few years ago I invested in some start-ups that took off. Tripled my investment.”
“How did you even know how to do that?”
“I knew the right people. I tend to hang out with people older than me. People who can teach me stuff.” He slows down. “Which one is it?”
We’re at the end of the street. I look back. “We passed it. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I’ll turn around.” He goes through the intersection and turns into someone’s driveway. “So why are you here? You never said.”
“I needed a place to live. My uncle offered to take me in, but it’s only for a year.”
Why didn’t I tell him about my mom? Why is it so hard to say those words?
“You needed a place to live?” He chuckles. “Your parents take off like mine?”
“Um, kind of.”
He was about to pull out onto the street, but stops, his eyes on me. “What happened?”
I look out the side window. “My dad’s in rehab.”
“Then you’ll fit right in around here. Half the people I know have a parent in rehab. What about your mom?”
“She died,” I blurt out.
“Recently?”
It’s not the response I was expecting. Usually, people do the whole ‘I’m sorry’ thing and then get quiet.
I turn and look at Jackson. “A little over two weeks.”
“So that’s why you’re here.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d it happen?”
That’s another question people usually don’t ask, but I kind of like that he’s asking these questions. I like that he’s not afraid to.
“Brain aneurysm.”
He’s looking at me, and I’m looking back. Normally, I’d look away, but I don’t. I keep searching his face for the usual response. Pity. Sadness. Avoiding eye contact. But I don’t see any of that with Jackson.
I assume he’s going to ask me more about my mom, but instead he says, “You hungry?”
“What?” I ask.
“Hungry. It’s a feeling you have when you want to eat.”
I smile. “I know what it means. I just don’t know how we went from talking about my dead mom to talking about eating.”
“Did you want to talk more about your mom?”
“Not really.”
“Then let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving. I missed breakfast helping out this girl who nearly drowned.”
“I wasn’t drowning. I just didn’t expect the waves to be that strong.”
He pulls out onto the road, going in the opposite direction from Brock’s house.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You like Mexican?”
“Yeah, but usually not for breakfast.”
“You gotta try these breakfast burritos. Best I’ve ever had.”
“You eat burritos?” I ask.
“I eat everything. I’m not picky.” He glances at me. “Are you?”
“I don’t really like health food, like salads and stuff, but my cousins do, especially the older one. He yelled at me for eating his protein bars. You should see their fridge. There’s almost nothing in there that’s edible.”
“You can come eat at my house. I’ve got everything. Healthy stuff. Junk food. Leftover take out.”
“How can you eat whatever you want and look like that?”
“Like what?” he asks with a smile.
“You know what. You’re pure muscle. How do you get a body like that by eating junk food?”
“I eat healthy most of the time. Lots of meat. Chicken. Eggs. But I also eat chips. Ice cream. Burritos.” He pulls into a parking lot next to a long, green metal building.
“This is it?”
“It doesn’t look like much, but the food makes up for it.” He gets out and comes around to open my door.
“I got it,” I say when he goes to help me.
“You sure?” he asks as I limp to the door.
“I’ll be fine by tomorrow. I just need to rest my knee.”
We go up to the counter and order two sausage and egg burritos. We find a table, and as we’re sitting down, a guy walks in who reminds me of Axl. He’s skinny, wearing a black t-shirt, and both his arms are covered in tattoos.
“Could I borrow your phone?” I ask Jackson. “I really need to call my boyfriend. He’s going to think I died.”
Jackson unlocks his phone and hands it to me. The screen is already on the number screen to make the call, like he didn’t want me to see what’s on his phone.
I put in Axl’s number. It rings several times before he picks up.
“Who’s this?”
“Axl, it’s Rumor. I lost my phone and had to borrow one. Did you text me?”
“I haven’t had time. My boss called me in early to work and we’ve been really busy.”
“Okay, well, I didn’t want you to not hear from me and be worried something happened.”
“I wasn’t worried. I assumed you were busy.”
“Did you see my texts from this morning?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I forgot to text back. I was going to, but then my boss called. Babe, I really need to go. I was helping a customer when you called. We’ll talk later, okay? Love you.”
“Wait! We can’t talk later. I don’t have a phone.” There’s silence. “Axl?” He hung up.
I give Jackson his phone.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“The long-distance thing can be hard.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be. Not for Axl and me. We’ve been dating for two years. We’re moving into together after we graduate. We have it all planned out.”
“Sometimes plans change.”
“But that’s not what I want. I love Axl. I want a life with him.”
“Isn’t it a little soon to decide that? You’re only what . . . seventeen?”
“Yeah, but if we love each other our age shouldn’t matter.”
The guy at the register calls out our order. Jackson gets up and brings it back to the table.
“How long have you dated your girlfriend?” I ask, taking my burrito from the tray.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Then why do you have a girl’s clothes at your house?”
“She’s a friend. She stays with me sometimes.” He bites into his burrito, eating almost a third of it.
“Why does she stay there?”
He points to my burrito. “What do you think?”
“It’s good. Might be the only real food I get all day.”
“If you want to come over and raid my fridge, just let me know.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a phone.”
“You want to get one?”
“I don’t have money.”
“I’ll loan you some.”
“I have the money. I just don’t have access to it yet. My uncle said he’s giving me a spending account with a debit card. I didn’t plan on using it but I kind of have to if I want a phone. I need to get a job so I can make my own money.”
“Why get a job if your uncle’s giving you money?”
“I don’t like taking money from him. Then I’ll feel like I owe him.”
“If he lives in my neighborhood, believe me, he’s got more money than he’ll ever spend.”
“I know but I don’t feel right spending his money. I’d rather have my own.”
“Just take it. There aren’t many jobs around here and the jobs you’d get wouldn’t pay much.” He’s already finished with his burrito, and I’ve only had two bites. “So who’s your uncle? I don’t know the neighbors that well, but I might know him.”
“You probably do. He’s an actor. Brock Halliway.”
Jackson smiles and nods. “The Halliways.”
“You know them?”
He laughs to himself. “Yeah.”
“Why is that funny?”
He takes a drink of his water. “You almost done?”
“You’re really bad at answering questions.”
“Let me guess,” he says, leaning back in the booth. “Twisted Pine? That’s where you’re going?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You definitely won’t have time for a job. They give out a shitload of homework, and they expect you to do extracurriculars.”
“I’m not joining clubs, if that’s what you mean.”
“You do any sports?”
“I suck at sports.”
“What about cheerleading?”
“Me? A cheerleader? I couldn’t even stay up when a wave hit me. Put me on top of a pyramid, I’d die.”
“They’re not gymnasts. They just dance around.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I live here. It’s not a big town. Not a lot of schools.”
“Wait.” I sit back, eyeing him. “You go there, don’t you? You have to. You’re rich.”
“I don’t go there.”
“You don’t? You go to public?”
“Legion High.” He gets up from the table. “Let’s go. I like the burritos but the atmosphere sucks.”
It does. The place is small with just a few places to sit.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he drives out of the parking lot.
“To get you a phone.”
“But I don’t have money.”
“I’ll pay for it. You can pay me back.”
I turn to him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You yelled at me to get off your beach. You were being an ass, and now you’re taking me to breakfast? Saying I can come to your house and eat whatever I want? Loaning me money for a phone?”
“I’m not allowed to be nice?”
“It doesn’t make sense. You completely changed after—” I stop, remembering what I said before he took me to breakfast. I sigh, gazing out the side window.
“What? What were you going to say?”
“You’re being nice to me because you feel sorry for me. Because of what I told you about my mom.”
“That’s not why. It has nothing to do with that.”
“You were going to take me home, but then I told you what happened and you took me to breakfast. And now you want to pay for my phone.”
“I’m not paying for it. It’s a loan. And it has nothing to do with your mom dying. I was nice to you before I even knew that.”
“By yelling at me for setting foot on your property?”
“It’s private property. I have a right to keep people off it. And in case you forgot, I saved you when you almost drowned. Then I took you in my house and bandaged you up. If I were an ass, I would’ve left you out there, bruised and bleeding, and made you walk home.”
I guess that’s true. He didn’t have to help me after that wave took me down.