Chapter 10 – Vale
JOYRIDES AND JEALOUSY
VALE
Gramps walks in around eight o’clock and gives me a grin. I’m still sitting at the island, reading, my sandwich long demolished. He beams at me when he sees the book I have in my hand. “How many times are you going to read that one?” he asks me before popping me on the shoulder.
“I love Dracula! Anyway, you’re not supposed to judge my books as long as I read your list. You’ve been busy, and I finished the list already. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own rules, old man?” I ask, my smile growing as I give him side-eye and scrunch my nose up.
Gramps puts his arms over his head and stretches. “Alright,” he says. “Point made. I won’t judge. I can’t believe you finished the list already. Answer me this, do you think Mr. Rochester’s deception was justified?” Gramps’s left eyebrow jumps up as he waits.
I roll my eyes at him. I’ve been waiting for the third degree.
“Oh please, it isn’t about him or his deception.
It’s about Jane’s truth, her hunger to be seen as a woman worth knowing, and to be loved just as she is.
Rochester does love her. I think they’re soulmates.
” I take a deep inhale, trying to stop the tears that want to come over that damned book.
“I didn’t want to finish it at first. That part when he asked her to be his mistress pissed me off. I questioned whether he loved her at all. It broke my heart, Gramps,” I pout, slumping over as I sit my book down.
When I finally look up at Gramps, he’s smiling at me. It’s such a big smile that it makes the wrinkles around his eyes deepen. “You’re a romantic, like Grandma. I didn’t think you were till that spiel. Good answer.”
I’m surprised there’s no rebuttal, there usually is. He must be tired. His comparison of me being a romantic like Grandma fills me with pride though. He goes to the sink like he’s going to wash the dishes, but there aren’t any. He turns to study the den, searching for something.
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my granddaughter? You cleaned the house?” he asks in shock.
“I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Thank you, Vale.’” I laugh and jump up, running around the counter.
I give him a big hug and smile against his barrel chest. I’ve missed him being around the house with me.
It’s been lonely, but I don’t want to mention it because I don’t want him to feel bad.
I’m glad he’s got something to do and a friend to talk to.
“Thank you, Vale,” he says, mimicking my tone. “What are your plans this evening?”
I let go of him and shrug my shoulders innocently. “I was thinking about stealing the car and going for a joyride, maybe to the bluffs so I can see the Aquariids shower. Any chance I can get the keys?” I grin sweetly up at him.
He shakes his head, then reaches in his pocket. My eyes get big, and I hold my hand out excitedly. He drops a key fob in my hand and my smile changes to a pout so fast.
“Really, Gramps,” I whine. “I wanna drive the Mustang. Is it worth the jail time if I get caught in a Prius? I’m better than that. Come on.”
Gramps laughs so hard his cheeks turn red.
I see the tears in his eyes and his belly shakes with the laughter.
“You’re lucky I’m offering the keys. I wish your mother would let me take you to get your license already.
If you get caught, we’ll both be in trouble,” he explains.
“Anyway, the headlights are awful on the Mustang. This is the safer option.”
I frown as I drop the key fob into my pocket. “Thank you,” I reply because I’m grateful. Gramps is only worried about my safety.
He nods his head. “Okay, you know the rules. No speeding. No talking on the phone while you’re driving.
I don’t care that there’s hands-free. Make sure you use the emergency brake up there.
No drinking. Nobody else in the car. Also, I’ve heard a bunch of kids have been up there having parties, if they are, please come back. It’s not worth it, Vale.”
I raise my right hand to my brow in a pretend salute. “Yes, sir.”
It’s a Monday night. I doubt anyone will be having a party at the bluffs. In fact, the only person I know who’d be having a party tonight is Oliver. Monday night parties, that seems like it’s his kind of thing.
“If you get pulled over, don’t snitch. I did not give you those keys,” he says seriously.
He cracks me up and I laugh, then turn on my heels and run up the stairs. “Thanks, Gramps. Have a good night! Promise I won’t tell the cops you’re in on it,” I yell from the stairs.
He grumbles a “Yeah, yeah.”
In my room, I open the closet and grab my travel telescope with the single eyepiece.
It’s not the greatest, but I’m too lazy to break down the good one and drag it down the stairs.
Sitting it on the bed, I open it up to check that everything’s in the case, all the extra parts and tools to attach the tripod.
I make sure my sky-tracking app is up-to-date on my phone, then grab a clean blanket.
Back at my closet, I stare at my lack of clothes.
It would’ve helped if I’d done my own laundry today.
I grab a pair of skinny jeans that are a half-size too small with rips across the thighs, even though I should have donated them a while ago.
I clip my hair up in a high ponytail, then switch my baggy T-shirt to a tank top with a colorful zombie grasping a daisy.
It’s too short and ends a bit lower than my rib cage, but it works.
I put some comfy shoes on, then grab all my stuff, including a purse that has my cash and state ID.
I make my way downstairs to tell Gramps bye, but he’s on the phone in his office, so I peek inside and wave. When he waves back, I know that’s the signal to go on. On my way out, I hear him say something about Lord Byron. He must be chatting with a student.
I put the telescope case in the back seat and stuff the blanket around it, then hook the seat belt around that—it’s precious cargo. I toss a bag with snacks, a water bottle, a flashlight, and various odds and ends onto the floorboard.
When I shut the back door, I hear people laughing and a car revving up. We share a driveway with Oliver, but it’s not exactly a single driveway. It’s two lanes that merge before it meets the road. Gramps’s driveway is a pale gray concrete, while Oliver has a terracotta-colored, faux cobblestone.
I look over at his house, my heart speeding up.
Oliver is hopping down the steps two at a time, laughing, with a pretty blond girl on his heels.
She’s wearing a flirty, short, floral skirt, that shows off her toned and tanned legs.
Her hair is down, and it’s long, shiny, and perfect, as if she had a professional blowout for the occasion.
Just like all the women who come around, she looks besotted with him. I understand that look.
There are a couple guys, one is standing beside a tricked-out, vintage Cadillac, and another is in the driver’s seat. Both look young and boyish with cocky smiles. The kind of guy you might be attracted to if you didn’t know any better.
“To the bar!” the guy with auburn hair standing outside of the car yells. He bangs on the rooftop. Monday night fun, yep, that’s Oliver’s brand of fun.
I start to giggle as I watch Oliver. Our eyes meet and I wave before getting into the car.
I connect my phone to a USB cord, so I can listen to music, then start the engine as quickly as I can.
When I’m trying to back up, the rear camera starts beeping a warning, and I slam on the brakes.
There he is, in the camera. He’s bent over, waving with a knowing grin on his face.
I shift the car into Park. Shaking my head, I release the seat belt.
I blow out a frustrated breath, then exit the car.
“Hey, Oliver,” I say with what I’m hoping is friendliness in my voice and not annoyance.
“Are you stealing Nick’s car? I know for a fact you don’t have a license.” He places his hands on his hips as he studies me with a pinched look. Is he trying to act like a state trooper? All he needs is the wide-brimmed hat and a badge.
I roll my eyes. “Free country,” I say with a big smile, playing the game he started. Why would he care anyway?
“Not if you’re in jail,” he responds, tilting his head to the side as if he doesn’t understand the stupidity of my actions.
His hair is in a messy man bun of all things, with little tendrils falling down his neck.
It’s adorable and youthful, unlike the vibe I normally get from him, which is intense, older, and knowledgeable.
I’m struggling to hold in a laugh. It seems like he shouldn’t look so boyish and carefree out in the open.
“I’m not allowed to tell you the truth. Sorry. Gotta go, see ya later, Oliver,” I dismiss him because I don’t want to continue this conversation. I don’t have to placate this man like I do the other people in my life.
I get back into the car. Just as I start to close the door, Oliver grabs it. I grind my teeth, my jaw tightening in annoyance. Don’t do this, man! Please don’t.
“Vale, wait!” He raises his voice, but there’s no need, I’m paying attention already. I haven’t been able to stop paying attention for the past two weeks.
“Listen, I have to go, Southern Delta Aquariids,” I explain as though he should understand my urgency.
It’s not the truth exactly, they won’t start till much later, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who would know that.
I’m not saying he’s stupid; on the contrary, Gramps said his knowledge is formidable, and I trust Gramps on the matter of intelligence.
I look up at him as he bends at the waist, leaning through the open car door. God, he’s gorgeous. The collar of his shirt is open, with several buttons undone. The way he’s leaning forward makes it gape, and I’m treated to a peek of his defined pecs. I bite my lip.
When I look back up at his face, my cheeks feel like they’ll melt because I checked him out and of course he noticed.
He always knows, and that cocky grin proves it.
He continues to stand there, waiting for an explanation.
I can’t tell if he’s angry or annoyed, and I don’t remember what we're even talking about. I have to shake it off again to think.
“Meteor shower,” is all I can say.
“Oh, and this meteor shower is important enough Nick let you borrow the car without a license. Is that correct?” He doesn’t think Gramps would let me borrow the car. Oh, ye of little faith.
“I’m not allowed to tell you. He’ll call me a snitch,” I explain with a giggle. This whole situation is suddenly very amusing.
“Oliver, let’s go!” the woman yells.
She joins us as Oliver stands up straight.
I watch her come closer, her hips swaying.
She grabs his arm and gives me a snarky look.
The way she stares at my shoes, my ripped-up jeans, and shirt makes me think she doesn’t like how I look.
His date is judging me. I wish I could read her mind.
I’ve had people look at me funny a lot over the years.
I never cared, but I’m dying to know what her problem is.
I don’t know if she thinks I look like trash or a rival.
She lifts onto her tiptoes as she grabs his bicep with her manicured fingers.
She’s so short that at five foot, eight inches I could probably see the top of her blond head.
She can’t reach his cheek, and he doesn’t bend lower for her to do so.
When she gives up, she kisses the side of his arm like she’s marking her territory.
You know what Blondie reminds me of? One of those purse dogs, a Chihuahua.
She’s yipping at me with her eyes, like, Stay away from my man!
She’s so tiny, I swear I can see her bouncing up and down with a squeaky toy in her mouth next to his leg.
I have to cough through the laugh that bubbles up uninvited.
It’s funny until she looks back at me, sizing me up again. Her fingers are digging into his bicep, and I can see how it makes dents in the fabric of his pressed shirt. All her body language yells out, He’s mine, bitch.
Suddenly, it's not funny anymore. I get very uncomfortable watching her touch him so easily. He’s not hers. He doesn’t keep any of them. They never come back to his house. Yet her intimidation tactics have worked. I look away, letting her win, and I don’t know why.
“Can I go now?” I ask, getting more frustrated by the second as reality sinks in—she’s the one he’ll fuck tonight, not me.
“Who’s the kid?” Blondie asks, and her voice is so nasally, so annoyingly accented that I don’t know why he’s into her.
My cheeks flush because she called me a kid. It’s the worst way she could cut me down without calling me names. I don’t want Oliver to think of me as a kid. I don’t want him to treat me like that either. He didn’t last night.
“Don’t you know who that is?” he asks her with a smirk. He makes it sound like I’m some sort of famous actress or something, and I honestly don’t know where he’s going with it.
The woman bends down to study my face again, then stands back up and shakes her head. Her nose scrunches up like she’s disgusted by me. What the fuck did I do to her?
“Nope, don’t know the kid,” she says, dismissing me completely.
“That’s Vale Granger. She’s the most impressive woman I know. In fact, I forgot we had a date tonight. I’m going to have to take a rain check,” he says as he tugs her hand off his bicep. My heart feels like it’s doing somersaults against my ribcage.
What is he doing?
I turn toward the passenger door to hide the shock on my face and the heat in my cheeks. I don’t know what to say. He’s blowing her off for me. Why?
“Oh no, Olly, that sucks. I was hoping we’d get to hang out just the two of us later.” The whiny tone she uses with him is unbearable, I want to gag. And Olly, really? I bet he loves that name.
I want to get out of here, but now I have to wait till these people leave because he said we had a date. Shit! Gramps is going to get mad if Oliver goes with me. I can’t have anyone in the car. Shit! Shit! Shit! Gramps is never going to let me borrow the car again.