The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell(56)

“At Saint Mo’s?” He said this in a feminine voice and bent his wrist. “I couldn’t do a school without the ladies. I guess you don’t have that problem. Or maybe you do?” He bent his wrist again. My father called from the back of the store, indicating Tomaro’s prescription had been filled. “Get that for me, will you, sport? You’re the delivery boy, after all, aren’t you?” He winked at Donna.

“No problem,” I said.

I hurried like an obedient retriever, grabbed the white bag from the counter, and brought it back, handing Donna the paperwork to ring up the sale on the cash register. Tomaro pulled out a credit card and slapped it on the counter. “You keep working hard, and someday you might get some plastic.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, as if I’d forgotten. “My dad said to just rub that cream in twice a day, and it should take care of that rash in no time.” My father had said no such thing and would never have broken a customer’s confidence, but having been at the store, I’d picked up a bit about certain medications. Before Tomaro could respond, I nodded to the window. A parking-meter cop stood on the sidewalk, flipping open her ticket book. “I guess the parking meters don’t take plastic.”

Tomaro grabbed his package and hurried out, but not before Donna burst out laughing.





13

I returned from my deliveries just before my dad locked the front door and flipped the sign in the window to CLOSED. Donna had stayed to help ring up the cash deliveries. Half an hour later we all departed together.

“See you at home,” my father said, walking to his car.

“Could you believe that guy today?” Donna asked as we walked down the sidewalk.

“He hits on all the girls who work for my dad,” I said, though Donna was the first girl to work at the store.

“Trust me, I know. He hit on all the girls at school, too. Everyone knows he’s after one thing.”

“Stimulating conversation?” I asked.

Donna laughed. “You’re funny.” I stopped next to the Falcon, and she said, “Now, that is a sweet ride.”

I mimicked the sound of Tomaro’s voice. “So where are your ‘wheels,’ sport?”

“No wheels for me, sport. My dad grounded me. Long story.”

“Is someone picking you up?”

“Fat chance. When I’m grounded, I’m walking. It’s my dad’s way of punishing me. He says that maybe the exercise will clear my brain.”

“Where do you live?”

“It’s not far. I live in Hillsborough, just a couple miles.”

Without thinking I said, “I’ll give you a ride.”

“You sure it’s not out of your way?”

It was the opposite direction. “No problem at all.”

Donna touched my arm, and it sent an electric pulse across my skin. “Like I said, polite and cute.”

Inside the Falcon, Donna asked, “Can we put the top down?”

Though it was a bit chilly, I happily obliged. Other than Mickie and my mom, I’d never been alone in the Falcon with a girl. I hoped someone I knew would drive up and see me, the devil boy, with a high school senior riding in my car.

Hillsborough was a wealthy neighborhood with large homes, sweeping driveways, and expansive lawns. We made several turns, and I knew I would be hopelessly lost trying to get back home.

“Turn here,” Donna said. I drove between two brick pillars leading to a driveway that curved past a manicured garden with English hedges, rosebushes, and other plants I couldn’t name. I stopped the car beneath an impressive colonnade for a two-story stucco home. “What does your father do?”

“You mean when he’s not on my case or grounding me? He’s a big-shot lawyer.”

“What about your mom?”

“She pretty much plays golf and cards at the country club all day. At night she drinks.”

The statement hit me like a slap. I didn’t know what to say.

Donna flipped her hair. “Do you party, Sam?”

I hadn’t even had a beer up to that point. “When I can,” was all I could muster.

“It’s such a double standard. My mom is shit-faced half the time, and if I party, my father grounds me. How is that fair?” I recognized her question to be rhetorical. “Well, thanks for the ride,” she said and exited the car, but rather than run up the steps, Donna walked around to the driver’s side and rested her forearms on the door. Her shirt fell open, and her cleavage swallowed the silver chain and medal.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” I raised my eyes. Donna grinned. “You just take a right out of the driveway, turn left at the first stop sign, go one block, take another left, and follow the road back to the El Camino.”

I nodded, but I doubted I would remember a single word. Then Donna leaned forward and kissed me hard on the mouth, her tongue forcing my lips apart, probing. Before I could even decide how to respond, she pulled back, smiling. Then she winked. “See you, sport.”

Struck dumb, I watched her bound up the steps and disappear through the front door.

When I got home, my mother was finishing setting the table for dinner. She’d started to wait for me and my dad to get home so we could all eat together.

“What took you?” she asked.