Interim(18)

“I don’t do that stuff.”

“No girls.”

Jeremy snorted. Roy glanced his way.

“That funny?”

“It is, actually. Have you not listened to a thing I’ve told you about my social life for the past two years?”

“No girls,” Roy repeated.

“Yes, sir.”

Roy nodded and wiped his hands. “Now, I’m going over to your house.”

“Huh? Why?”

“To beat the shit out of your father.”

“No!” Jeremy blocked his way.

“Well, someone’s gotta do it.”

“Roy, please don’t.”

Jeremy knew short, pudgy Roy was no match for his giant of a father. He doubted Roy had ever been in a fight in his entire life.

“Your dad needs to learn a lesson,” Roy said.

“He will,” Jeremy replied.

And that was the truth. Jeremy didn’t need anyone sticking up for him, though he appreciated Roy’s loyalty. He already had the plan set in place, and it was months in the making. Would seem a shame for someone to swoop in and mess it all up in an instant.

“I don’t want you going back there,” Roy said.

“I have to get my stuff,” Jeremy replied. “I’ll be fine.”

Roy was doubtful. “Let me get your stuff.”

“No. I don’t want you going in there.” The words spilled out before he could stop himself.

Pure shame. He didn’t want Roy witnessing the derelict house in which he lived—smelling the stale odor of alcohol that permeated the foyer when he opened the door. Following that same scent throughout every room in the house, including Jeremy’s, though he tried to mask it with air freshener. He didn’t want Roy seeing the filth he tried hard to clean—piled-up dishes in the sink and ringed toilets. One more reason it was impossible to have friends—his home life. How could he ever bring kids back to that dump? He felt like redneck trash, ashamed of where he came from and the person he was destined to be.

He fought against it. He kept his room tidy, which is why it struck him as almost comical that his dad beat him over an unmade bed. He didn’t even give Jeremy the chance to make it—something he planned to do right before the attack. And his father of all people, concerned about neatness. The same guy who sat in a greasy chair among piles of empty beer cans and whiskey bottles, collecting like the dust on an abandoned mantle.

“There’s no use wasting your time feeling ashamed of someone else’s failures. You start blaming yourself, and that’s not right,” Roy said.

“That house is an embarrassment,” Jeremy whispered.

“Is that your fault?”

Jeremy shrugged.

“Stop shrugging. Men don’t do that.”

He stood up straight.

“You gonna get in and get out?” Roy asked. “Not fool around and waste time?”

“I’ll move my stuff tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!”

“It’s just one more day,” Jeremy said. “It’ll be fine. I know how to avoid him.”

“I don’t like it. I want you moved in here tonight.”

“Roy, please. I wanna work on my car.”

Jeremy stiffened then jerked his head when Roy brushed his bangs aside. Roy kept his hand planted on Jeremy’s forehead.

“He do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know what. That scar. Did he do that?”

Jeremy pushed his hand away. “Years ago.”

“You move in tonight,” Roy said. “I mean it.”

Jeremy scowled. He had plans. He had plans to fix his car, drive to Regan’s house, steal her, and drive out east until he hit the ocean.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he heard Roy say.

“Huh?”

“Jeremy, stop saying ‘huh.’ It’s irritating as hell. Choose a more decisive word,” Roy snapped.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said obviously that’s a yes.”

“A yes to what?”

“I asked if there was a girl at school you like.”

“I don’t like anyone at school.”

“In that huge high school, there’s not one girl you like?”

“It’s not that huge.”