Chapter 25
Jameson
Once the sun sets, people start showing up for the party. Some of them I know. Most of them I don’t. I’ve maybe seen them hanging around, but I couldn’t tell you more than their name.
My father’s always liked a lot of people around. I think it makes him feel important. These parties are always more for him than me, anyway. But this time, it’s better because Sam hasn’t left my side since it started.
I’m careful to watch the people who pass us, keeping extra close to her to make it clear she’s not here alone. It’s not that I don’t trust her; it’s that I don’t trust anyone here.
We’ve each got a drink in hand when Billy comes up to us, a girl I don’t recognize trailing closely behind him.
“Her lipstick is all over your mouth,” I mutter, quiet enough that just Billy can hear me.
He smirks at me as he rubs it away, but the lightness doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, they look dead. Hollow.
I lean into him. “You all right?”
“Great. Why?”
I flick my eyes from him to the girl then back to him again.
“It’s a party,” he whispers, his voice defensive. “Just leave it.”
The girl steps around Billy, and now that I get a better look at her, she seems familiar.
“Happy birthday,” she tells me.
I tip my beer in her direction. “Thanks.”
Her nose crinkles. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Sam presses into me, and the girl tracks the movement.
“Should I?”
“I’m Sasha,” she says, like that should mean something to me. When I just stare back at her blankly, she adds, “Ivan’s kid.”
“Who?”
She fidgets, annoyed. “The Russian.”
The pieces fall into place. I haven’t seen her in years.
“You grew up.”
She sweeps her gaze over me. “Yeah, you did, too.”
Sam takes a step forward, subtly blocking my body with hers.
“Is this your …?”
“Girlfriend,” Sam answers.
Sasha tilts her head to the side. “Oh.”
“What?” Sam snaps.
“Nothing.” Sasha looks between us, letting her eyes rest on me. “You just never seemed like the girlfriend type.”
“How would you know?” Sam asks. “He didn’t even remember you.”
“Exactly,” Sasha says under her breath before forcing her face to brighten. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
Sam watches her for a second, like she’s assessing if Sasha’s a threat.
I snake my arm around her waist, running my finger under the hem of her shirt. I feel her uncoil before she finally says, “Yeah, you, too.”
Billy drains the last of his beer then leans into Sasha, asking if she wants to go get a refill. She nods, looking thankful to get away from this conversation.
Once they’re gone, Sam turns to me, and I bite back a smile.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “What?”
“You’re a jealous little thing, aren’t you?”
She narrows her eyes. “No.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Fine.” She blows out a breath. “But so are you.”
“Damn right I am.”
That makes her smile.
I move forward until my lips graze her ear. “You’re all mine.”
Before she can respond, I pull back, grabbing her hand and guiding us over to the makeshift bar.
Billy and Sasha are nowhere to be found, but Johnny is hunched over the table, pouring himself a drink.
He turns, and a genuine smile lights his face. “Hey, Bug,” he says to Sam before shifting to me. “Happy birthday.”
I nod a thanks as Sam holds out her hand.
Johnny laughs and gives her the drink he just poured. “You behaving?”
She grins, bringing the Solo cup up to her lips. “Never.”
I watch them as they talk about nothing in particular, just shooting the shit. She’s different when she’s around him, like he smooths out her edges.
She has another drink, and I watch as she becomes more loose.
“I want to go for a—”
Her words cut off when a hand comes down on Johnny’s shoulder.
“Why’re you all hiding in the corner?” my father asks. “It’s a party.”
His eyes lock with mine. “I have something for you.”
“You do?”
“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
I nod.
My mother comes up beside him and asks excitedly, “Are you gonna give it to him now?”
“Everyone outside,” my father yells.
I guess that’s a yes.
We all follow him as he leads the way to the front lot.
I search for Billy, finding him next to Luke. We catch eyes, and he jogs over to me and Sam.
“You know about this?”
He shakes his head. “No idea.”
I don’t ask him where Sasha went. Instead, I just keep walking, Sam’s hand in mine.
My father stops, and I look over at him, confused.
“Well?” he asks. “Do you like it?”
I glance around. I don’t want to question him in front of everyone, but I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Like what?”
“Your new car.”
I pull my head back. “My what?”
He sweeps his hand out, motioning to his black 1970 Dodge Challenger.
No, he’s not saying …
I look over at my mother, and she’s nodding emphatically.
“It’s yours,” my father says.
Sam squeezes my hand, and Billy lets out a whoop of excitement. But I just stand there, frozen.
Waiting for him to take it back.
To start laughing and tell me he’s just kidding.
But he doesn’t.
He pulls the keys from his pocket and dangles them in front of me.
I let go of Sam’s hand and step forward, reaching for them.
He drops the keys into my open palm and says, “One year late, but better than never. Happy seventeenth, kid.”
I close my fist around them. “I don’t …” I don’t know what to say. “Thank you.”
He smiles, and I know it’s a real one because his eyes crinkle. Then, taking a step forward, he pulls me into a one-armed hug, using his other hand to slap my back affectionately. “I don’t tell you this enough,” he says to me quietly, “but I’m proud of you.”
My chest tightens at his words, not knowing what to do with them.
He steps back, and my mother takes his place. She wraps her arms around me and says against my chest, “Love you, honey.”
I don’t know what to do with her words, either.
I must take longer than the standard time to say them back because she breaks the hug and looks up at me. “Jameson,” she prompts.
I push the words out. “Love you, too.”
“So,” Billy cuts in, like he can sense my inner turmoil, “we gonna take her for a spin?”
I glance over at Sam. “You want to go for a ride, baby?”
“I want to go anywhere you’re going,” she answers, her words hitting me right in the chest.
“Wait,” Luke says, stepping in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.” He tilts his head. “It’s in the office.”
“Now?” I ask, and he nods. I search for my father and find him talking to Marcus. “All right, yeah,” I tell Luke.
Leaning into Sam, I mutter, “You good here for a minute?”
She nods, glancing between Billy and her brother.
Knowing they’re watching out for her, I follow Luke into the garage then wait as he pulls something from a drawer. His voice sounds almost nervous as he holds it out in front of me. “Wanted you to have this.”
I look down, confused when I see denim. Taking it from him, I unfold the fabric and realize it’s a jacket. The denim is worn and covered in patches. I jerk my head up, my eyes questioning.
“It was mine when I was your age,” he explains.
I move my gaze over all the patches, realizing they’re a collection of the stories he’s told me about his life.
I push the jacket back toward him. “You can’t give me this.” I shake my head. “This is the kind of thing you give your son.”
“I know,” he says softly.
“Then why—”
“You know how I see you, Jameson.” He rubs at his neck. “I know things haven’t been easy for you, and I wish—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, my voice strained. “You don’t need to say whatever you’re gonna say. You’ve done more than enough.”
He nods, the motion rigid, then shoves the jacket back toward me. “Take it.”
My eyes are on the floor when I mutter, “Thank you.” I clear my throat. “For everything, really.”
“I’m always here,” he tells me. “No matter what. You need something, you can always come to me. You understand?”
“Yeah.” I glance up. “I understand.”
“Good,” he grunts. “Now, try it on,” he says with a smile.
I shift, attempting to pull my arm through the sleeve.
He laughs. “Figured this would happen.”
I can barely pull the other sleeve on.
“I haven’t shrunk with time,” he says. “I was still this much shorter than you when I was your age.”
I don’t know how Billy managed to be a couple of inches taller than me because I’ve got about five inches on Luke.
“Plus,” he adds, “even with the Army, I was always scrawnier than you.” He grins. “You might not be able to wear it, but I still want you to have it.”
I awkwardly pull it off and refold it.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll walk back out with you.”
We step outside, and I immediately seek out Sam. She’s smoking a cigarette, talking with Billy and her brother. The sound of her laugh drifts toward me, pulling me in her direction.
I come up behind her, and she leans back into me, tilting her head up. “Hey,” she breathes.
I brush my lips against the shell of her ear. “You look beautiful,” I whisper. “Happy.”
She flicks the ash off her cigarette. “I am happy.”
I hum against her ear.
“You make me happy,” she murmurs.
I watch as she brings the cigarette back up to her lips, taking another drag.
“You guys ready to go?” Billy asks, his words filled with anticipation. “How fast does she go, anyway?”
Johnny looks between Billy and me. “You’re not gonna find out tonight.” He points at Sam. “Not with her in the car.” He raises a brow. “Are you?”
I shake my head as Billy mutters, “Buzzkill.”
Johnny levels me with a hard stare. “Are you okay to drive?”
“Just had one drink,” I assure him. “I’m good.”
“Can you cover for me if you need to?” Sam asks. “We might be a while.”
“Bug …” Johnny starts.
“Come on,” she pleads. “It’s Jameson’s birthday.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s Friday,” she pushes. “And I’ve been good. Come on.”
“Fine.”
“Wait, really?”
He nods. “Yeah, really. Just don’t … you know, do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“You mean, there are things you wouldn’t do?” she teases.
Johnny rolls his eyes. “Smartass.”
“So, can we go now?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny says. “Go ahead.”
Billy walks off to tell Luke that we’re leaving, and I go tell my old man before we meet Sam back at the car.
I drop the front seat for Billy, setting the jacket Luke gave me in the back. “Get in.”
He folds himself into the back, and I right the seat, stepping away so Sam can sit.
She tilts her head. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Just didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Don’t worry,” she leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice, “I won’t tell anyone.” She slides into her seat slowly, like she wants me to watch. So, I do.
I trace her legs all the way up to the tiny skirt she’s wearing and suddenly wish Billy wasn’t in the back seat.
She tsks. “That’s not the way a gentleman is supposed to look at a lady.”
“Then good thing you’re not a lady,” I say, my voice low.
She laughs. “And thank fuck you’re not actually a gentleman.”