Breakable (Contours of the Heart, #2)(15)

Relieved, I smiled at the thought of this guy, who looked as if he’d be more at ease in a biker bar than a Broadway show. On the heels of that thought, a buried memory pushed to the surface – my father, standing awkwardly next to Mom at one of her gallery showings, clutching a fluted glass of champagne. Dad was a sports-watching scotch/rocks guy, not an art enthusiast. But he loved and supported my mother.

‘I don’t really know, but I can imagine,’ I said.

Joseph’s mouth pulled into a half smile, and we’d been friends since then.

‘Okay,’ I said now. ‘Proposition away.’

‘You, uh, have experience fixing AC systems, right?’

‘Yeah?’ I’d worked for Hendrickson Electric & AC my last year of high school, assisting old Mr H on hundreds of maintenance calls and repairs – but I’d never been in charge of diagnosing a disorder. After a year of working with him, he joked that I’d learned just enough to be dangerous, which summed up my level of expertise perfectly.

‘Here’s the thing. I just got an after-hours call to fix the AC at one of the frat houses. And dude, I totally forgot I was on call this weekend … and I am baked.’

I smirked. ‘You don’t say.’

‘Yeah … There is no way I should be operating heavy machinery. Like. My truck.’

‘That’s undoubtedly true.’

‘So I was thinking you could go do the job, and I’ll pay you – I get overtime for this shit. That way, I don’t get caught stoned on the job, you make some extra cash, everybody’s happy.’

Going to a frat house to identify and repair an issue with a major appliance that I might not know enough to fix wasn’t exactly an upgrade from sitting alone in my apartment. ‘Er. I don’t have the tools and equipment –’

‘Come over, take my truck – it has everything you need in the box. Those dumbasses won’t ask you for ID or anything. They just want their AC fixed. Why the emergency, I don’t know. It’s like seventy-five degrees out. Probably a party or something.’

I sighed. I didn’t want Joseph driving high or getting his ass fired showing up to make a campus repair while high and paranoid. Plus I could always use extra cash. ‘Okay, man. When?’

‘Uh. Now?’

The subterfuge included wearing one of Joseph’s official maintenance staff shirts – his name stitched in navy blue script into the white rectangle on the left side of my chest.

‘They probably need Freon or a wiring repair.’ He patted my shoulder and dropped the keys to his truck into my hand. ‘Call me if you get stumped. I’m stoned, not comatose.’

He was right about everything – the guys were gearing up for a party, and no one blinked an eye at me showing up in one of his shirts. Some guy answered the door and showed me that adjusting the thermostat didn’t change the temperature in the house. Luckily, Joseph was also correct about it being a simple wiring issue. The unit was close to twenty years old and would have to be replaced soon – but not yet.

‘Oh, man – sweet.’ D. J., the frat’s VP, threw his head back and closed his eyes, exhaling a relieved breath. ‘We blew a wad on this party. It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, but you never know around here.’

‘True.’ I loaded the tools into the box.

‘Thanks for coming out, Joseph.’ It took me a beat longer than it should have to realize he was speaking to me.

‘Oh, sure thing.’

At the door, he offered a folded twenty.

I waved it off. ‘No problem, man. All part of the job.’ The real Joseph was paying me fifty bucks for doing an hour’s worth of work, and I was apprehensive enough doing this at all.

D. J.’s brows drew together briefly, probably unused to a blue-collar worker turning down an offered tip. ‘Okay, well – if you’re free tomorrow night, we’re having this Halloween party.’

No shit, I thought. The whole house was decked out with imitation cobwebs and black lights and all the furniture had been pushed to the walls, freeing space for dancing or socializing in the centre of the main room.

‘It’s technically for students, but you’re obviously not old, and this one’s not Greek-exclusive, so stop by if you’re open.’

With effort, I kept from smirking. ‘Yeah, sure. Thanks …’ But no thanks.

Then I looked up and saw Kennedy Moore across the room, talking to another guy. That’s when it hit me – this was his fraternity. Jackie might be at this party, even if they were broken up.

Well, damn. Guess I was going to a frat party.

I’d spotted Jackie the moment she walked through the door. Even with the dark and the crush of bodies, I never lost sight of her in the crowd for long. She was dressed in red. Shiny, sparkly red. Perched on top of her head was a headband sporting two pointy red horns. A thin, forked tail was affixed to the back of her skirt, and it swayed behind her as she walked or danced.

Her legs were smooth and bare, and seemed longer than usual. Geometry suggested that her short skirt and impossibly high red heels were responsible for that effect, but no amount of math could lessen my visceral reaction to seeing her again – especially in such a mind-blowingly hot costume. That outfit on this girl was riveting to more guys than just me, though – as proven by how many asked her to dance. She either didn’t know or didn’t care, because nine times out of ten, she shook her head no.