Rock Bottom Girl(52)

“I’ll try to snap a picture of him running shirtless,” I promised.

“You are a marvel, sister dear,” she said.

“That’s what I keep telling people. So how’s Ralph? Still surgery-ing his ass off?”

Conversations with my sister were odd. I didn’t want to share the pitiful details of my life with her, and she didn’t seem to like talking about how amazing her life was to me. Presumably because she didn’t want me to feel worse about myself.

“Darling Ralph has very little ass to lose,” Zinnia said fondly. Her husband was a genius and a talented surgeon. But he had the build of a two-by-four.

Byron poked his gawky head into my room. “Thank you again for dinner,” he said with a toothy smile. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for your ringer.”

“Thanks, Byron,” I said, getting up and closing the door.

“Uh, who was that?” Zinnia demanded.

“Oh, your room is now an Airbnb,” I told her.





32





Marley





Was there anything sexier than a shirtless man with a doofy dog? I pondered that thought while Jake and I muscled our way through another early morning run. Homer, the Goldendoodle something or other, was lazy and grumbly and kept stopping to pretend to pee. I admired his strategy.

When we got back to my parents’ house, I invited them both in for breakfast and got to see the legendary Jake Weston almost swallow his tongue.

“Breakfast? With your parents?” he choked.

“Yeah, probably. And Byron. He’s staying another night.”

“Mars, I can’t meet your parents like this.” He spread his arms wide and forced me to take in his godlike proportions.

“Are you nervous?” I laughed.

Homer flopped against my leg and slid down to the ground on a groan.

“Nervous? Me? Ha.”

“You look like you’re going to throw up. They’re just regular people. Mostly.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’ve never met a girl’s parents before,” he said, swiping his hand over his mouth. “I’m not gonna do it like this.”

The disappointment was swift, surprising, and totally uncalled for. “Oh. Yeah. I guess it would make more sense for you to give a real girlfriend the honor of your meet-the-parents virginity,” I said, leaning over to scruff Homer’s belly.

“No, dummy. I mean I should meet your parents. But even I know it isn’t smart to show up at the breakfast table in just shorts and say, ‘What’s up? Can my dog have some bacon?’”

“That’s quite considerate of you,” I said, biting my lip to keep the smile from making my eyes disappear.

“I’m serious, Mars. I wanna do this right. I’m giving you good advice. I need you to do the same for me. Introducing your parents to me when it would look more like I just spent the night getting sweaty with their daughter and then expecting free breakfast? Even I know that ain’t good.”

“But you do want to meet them?” I pressed.

“Hell yeah, I do. They’re your parents. I assume you like them? They’re important to you?”

I nodded.

“Cool. Then let me know when and where and how to prepare for it.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling my mouth stretching into a smile.

Before I knew it, he was leaning in and pressing a kiss to my salty cheek. “See you at school, pretty girl,” he said.

“Bye, Jake.”

He pulled the reluctant Homer to his feet, and I watched them jog off.





Gym classes should have been reasonably not horrible. The girls were on a field hockey kick while the guys played flag football. All Floyd and I had to do was divvy up teams and make sure no one got too hurt.

Unfortunately for all of us, Rachel, the quiet junior varsity forward from my team, had the misfortune of being in class with Lisabeth, the mean, big girl from the varsity team.

Lisabeth was like a bull shark lurking in the shallows with her rows of nasty teeth and her bad sharky attitude. I was watching as Rachel made a breakaway toward the hockey goal. And Lisabeth, running faster than I’d ever seen her do at practice, thundered in and slashed the girl right across the shins with her stick. Rachel crumpled to the ground like a piece of tissue paper. Lisabeth’s cronies, three girls with teased hair and too much bronzer, nearly fell over laughing.

I was so fucking done with this.

“Enough!” The rage gave my voice a boost, and not only did the hockey game stop, the flag football game came to a screeching halt in the middle of a touchdown run.

I stalked onto the field. “Rachel? Are you okay?” I asked in a quieter, calmer tone of voice.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, wincing.

“Angelika, can you help Rachel to the nurse to get some ice?” I asked nicely.

Angelika nodded, looking nervous. “Sure.”

“Great. You,” I said, pointing at Lisabeth, feeling the rage bubble back to life.

She shot me a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it look, and I gave myself a satisfying second to envision me making her eat her hockey stick.

“Everything good, Cicero?” Floyd asked nervously behind me.