Birthday Girl(103)

The weather is warm today, but there’s a little cloud cover, keeping the heat at bay, and I lie outside on the grass on my stomach, listening to Don Henley on the cassette player as I flip through the fall catalog of courses at my university. I’d already registered for next semester, but I’m thinking of adding another class.

My legs, crossed at the ankles, swing back and forth in the air behind me, but then my phone rings, and I reach over and pick it up off the grass. Looking at the screen, I knit my brow.

What does Dutch want?

I answer and hold it to my ear. “Hey,” I say. “Everything okay?”

My suspicious mind is immediately drawn to Pike and some God-awful accident with any one of the machines he works with.

“Uh, yeah, sorry to bother you,” he tells me. “Do you know what’s wrong with Pike today?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s been in the worst mood,” he whines. “Everyone’s afraid to go near him. He’s barking at everyone, he punched about eighty nails into every single piece of sheet rock he hung, and then he accidentally accepted the wrong shipment of lumber, which prompted a really interesting tantrum reminiscent of my twelve-year-old daughter. It’s been weird.”

I snort, but then clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle it.

“Um...” I search for words, my throat thick with laughter. “No idea, actually.”

Actually, I have a very good idea.

“Well, take cover, honey,” he says. “He’s on his way home, and I don’t know what the hell his problem is.”

My body shakes with silent laughter, and just then, I see Pike’s truck come roaring down the street. Even his engine sounds pissed.

“Okay,” I tell Dutch. “Gotta go.”

I hang up, not waiting for his ‘goodbye’, and watch as Pike barrels into the driveway, the truck coming to a screeching stop. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s only about four in the afternoon. He’s way early.

He looks over at me on the grass, and his eyes zone in, anger and intensity pouring through like I’m about to get the big, fat spanking I deserve.

I fix a coy look on my face and arch my back, pushing up my ass, and then slow the swinging of my legs for good measure to draw his attention to my body.

He steps out of the truck and slams the door, and I can’t hide my smug smile as he approaches, neither of us able to look away.

“I’m not laughing,” he points out sternly. “Now get inside and take off your clothes. I’ve had a whole day to dream up the theme park I’m going to make of your body tonight, girl.”

A rush of excitement lodges in my lungs, and I can’t breathe. I can see all the promises of what’s to come in his eyes, and I can’t lie or play with him anymore. I want it, too.

Holding his gaze, I stand up, and his eyes rake down my body as I slowly back up toward the house.

And he moves forward, following me.

But then a voice carries over his shoulder, interrupting us. “Pike, hi!” a woman calls.

We both halt, and I see Mrs. Taft, one of the neighbors, standing behind him.

“How have you been?” she asks.

He bares his teeth, closing his eyes, and he looks close to hitting something. My stomach shakes with amusement that I don’t let out.

He quickly turns around, affixing a fake smile. “Constance, hi,” he says, almost sounding chipper. “I’m good. Just…busy.”

She nods and peers around his shoulder. “Hey, Jordan.”

“Hi, Mrs. Taft.”

I walk over to Pike’s side, sliding my hands into my pockets.

She smooths a hand down her brown ponytail, holding the leash of the King Charles spaniel she’s been walking since I came out to lay on the grass a half hour ago. She looks up at Pike. “Haven’t seen your boy around much.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s…um…busy, too,” Pike stammers, trying to make up some excuse. “What’s up?”

“Well, I heard Jordan might do some babysitting.” She peers over at me. “Any interest? There’s a housewarming party across the river at the Kuhl’s place,” she tells Pike. “You should come with me. Relax. I just need someone to watch the kids, though.”

“Tonight?” he blurts out.

But she doesn’t answer him, just glances at me again. “Jordan, how about it? I know you’re not fifteen anymore but thought it was worth a shot.”

“Yeah, sure—”

“No,” Pike cuts me off.

I close my eyes for a moment. Jesus, Pike. That was real smooth and totally not obvious.

Constance looks at him, surprised.

“She has class in the morning,” he quickly explains.

Yes, I have class on a Sunday.

“And, uh, chores to do around the house,” he adds, casting me a stern look, “that she’s been bad about not taking care of.”

Yes, Mrs. Tate. After I do the dishes, I have to do Mr. Lawson, so…

“Sorry,” he tells her.

She glances between us, and she knows something is up, because he’s being fucking weird right now, but she handles it with class.

“Oh, no worries,” she chirps. “Maybe another time.”

I give her a smile and nod, trying to recover from my embarrassment and thankful when she finally moves along.