Nesting Read online

  “You’ve never let me forget how much you’d rather still be with her.”

  Cam wanted to scream that the six years she lived with her aunt were the best years of her life, but she didn’t. “I haven’t even mentioned her, Mom,” she said.

  Mrs. Webber snatched up her purse. “You’re nineteen. Do what you want to do. Why should that change now?”

  “I don’t always do what I want. Don’t I clean up around here when you ask me to? And I’m working now, too.” She cringed at the thought of seating lunch-goers at the local steakhouse where she’d just gotten a job.

  Her mother looked her up and down in that judgmental way Cam couldn’t stand. “You are just like her. She made you into a version of herself, and I hate her for that.” She clenched and unclenched her fists at her side. “I’m going to work.”

  Cam wished her mom would just say it. She wanted to yell at her to just get it out into the open about how much of a disappointment Cam was for not dating guys. Hell, her mom probably would have been proud of her if she’d gotten knocked up at fifteen. She glanced down at the androgynous jeans hanging off her narrow hips and the T-shirt that clung to her small breasts. Yes, she was built like Aunt Jess, and she liked that.

  “Maybe you should go see your aunt, go see that my sister isn’t some maternal goddess after all.”

  “Maybe I will,” Cam said.

  Cam stopped herself before saying that at least Aunt Jess wouldn’t have left her for a week when she was just starting high school. Or saying anything about her sophomore year, when she’d gotten so good at forging her mom’s signature, because otherwise she’d have missed out on all the things the other kids’ parents were giving them permission to do.

  Cam still couldn’t believe she’d received the letter from her aunt. It had been seven years since Cam had called her those horrible names because Aunt Jess had given her back to her mother without a fight. After a couple of years during which Cam refused all contact, Aunt Jess had given up, and this letter was her first attempt to reach out to Cam since. Aunt Jess had written that she just wanted Cam to know she loved her.

  Forget about that, she told herself. She had a party to go to. She smiled at the thought of spending some time with Courtney and decided that, once she walked out the front door, she wouldn’t think about her mom or the letter from her aunt.

  †

  Cam’s head was already fuzzy, and it was still early. She went into the bathroom and stood with her eyes closed for several moments to keep the god-awful striped wallpaper from making her vomit.

  After washing her hands and throwing some water onto her face, she picked up her Heineken from the counter and poured half of it down the drain.

  The bass from the stereo was vibrating the walls, making the stripes even harder to tolerate.

  Someone pounded on the bathroom door. Cam took a long pull of her beer as she exited, putting on a good show.

  “Cam, what’s up?”

  “Hey, Brian.”

  “Where’s your date?” he teased.

  Cam’s gaze swept the room until she found Courtney sitting beside Aaron on the sofa. Courtney’s black hair was slicked back away from her chiseled features; her lips were glossy and inviting. Maybe too inviting. Cam worried as Aaron leaned even closer to Courtney.

  “You better get over there before it’s too late,” Brian said.

  Cam shrugged. “I need to grab another beer.” On her way to the fridge, she kept her eyes locked on Courtney. When the other woman met her gaze, Cam felt her heart catapult into her throat.

  Cam set the old beer on the counter and opened a new bottle. She left a huge spit-sip in the bottom of the old bottle. Abandoned, it would be used by someone as an ashtray or absently drained into the sink.

  She looked around at the other partiers. Travis was rolling a joint at the kitchen counter. Brian was standing behind him, acting like he was afraid he’d get left out. Billy and Mitch were debating sports. Ashley was giving Laurie a massage, leaning much closer into her friend than she needed to. Who do they think they’re kidding? Cam wondered.

  And then there was Brenda, from Cam’s high school softball team. The biggest dyke in their graduating class was holding hands with Derek, the biggest nerd. What a pair. The looks they exchanged made Cam uncomfortable. Okay, so maybe Brenda isn’t a dyke. Cam so needed a tune-up on her gaydar.

  She considered Courtney, for instance. When Cam met her at Ashley and Laurie’s party, she wouldn’t in a million years have guessed that Courtney went both ways. Even if Robyn, Cam’s then-girlfriend, swore Courtney was a lesbo and wanted to get into Cam’s pants.

  Cam had thought it absurd. Until Courtney did get into her pants. They’d been getting high one afternoon, when Courtney straddled Cam on the sofa and pushed her hand down the front of Cam’s board shorts.

  The heat rising on Cam’s face was a flaming reminder of the guilt she’d felt over cheating on Robyn and the thrill of shattering into a million brilliant pieces when Courtney made her come.

  As she watched Courtney with Aaron, Cam’s guilt dissipated. It wasn’t as if she’d set out to cheat on Robyn. She’d just been so carried off on the course Courtney had set for them that she’d barely been able to think. It hadn’t been Cam’s fault that the chemistry between them had been so wickedly intense. Besides, she’d recently heard that Robyn, now safely graduated from high school, was dating Cam’s old softball coach, Ms. Cruise.

  Cam chugged down half her beer as she watched Aaron lean closer to Courtney and whisper in her ear. Prick. Courtney caught her watching and gave a little wink. Cam angled her head toward the stairs in a “let’s go” gesture.

  Cam and Courtney met by the bottom of the stairs, and Courtney grabbed her arm to keep her from starting up. “What’s the rush?” Courtney asked in a low voice.

  Cam looked over to where Aaron stood, watching them. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Come on, it’s a party. Chill out.” She ruffled Cam’s blonde hair where it was longer on the top and stroked down the sides where it was shorter and darker. “You look hot tonight,” she purred.

  Cam glanced toward Aaron. “I thought tonight was about you and me.” Cam hated the whine in her voice but couldn’t help it.

  “It is. It will be. Just chill. Okay?”

  Cam melted into the smooth sound of Courtney’s voice. “Okay.” She took a swig of her beer and considered that maybe she should slow down. Then she looked again at Aaron and chugged the rest of the bottle.

  Travis wrapped his arm around Cam’s shoulder. “Hit?” he asked as he held the joint in front of her face.

  Cam was happy to take her turn. As always, she was along for the ride, ready to act the part. She could perform the party animal, softball jock, friend, or smart chick, even if she wasn’t any of those things. She was nothing more than a lazy fake. Her mom could tell the whole freaking world that, if her mom was around. She’d certainly told Cam often enough.

  “Hell, yeah, I’ll take a hit,” Cam answered as she reached for it.

  When the joint disappeared into the den, Courtney took Cam by the hand and led her up the steps. Courtney’s thumb pressed into Cam’s sweaty palm, and Cam felt the wetness collecting elsewhere also. She took a deep breath and exhaled just as Courtney pulled her into her arms and kissed her.

  “Oh, wow!” Cam’s legs turned to jelly. Oh wow. Oh wow. Ohwowohwowohwow.

  Courtney kissed her again. Movement over Courtney’s right shoulder caught Cam’s attention, and she jumped when she realized Aaron was standing behind them. “What the fu–”

  “Shhh,” Courtney whispered.

  When Aaron was close enough to touch Courtney, Cam tried to pull away, but Courtney held tight. “Come on, Cam. Go with it.”

  “Yeah, go with it,” Aaron said.

  Courtney kissed her hard, and Cam’s breath caught in her chest. She let Courtney’s tongue explore her mouth. Her heart pounded. Courtney pressed her body against Cam’s, and the sensa
tion of being breast to breast rushed blood from her brain to her groin. Cam felt dizzy. Then she felt Aaron press against her from behind. She tried to ignore the hardness of him against her back and focus instead on the softness of Courtney.

  “Yeah, baby,” Courtney whispered.

  “That’s right,” Aaron added.

  He ran his hand between them, and Cam glanced down to see his fingers against Courtney’s breast. The image of him groping Courtney jarred her.

  “That’s right. Get her hot for me.”

  His words woke her up. Cam slipped sideways, and her sudden absence made Courtney and Aaron fall together. Aaron laughed. Cam held Courtney’s gaze through her rising tears.

  “Come on, sweetie.” Courtney reached for Cam’s hand.

  “Be adventurous,” Aaron said.

  “Courtney, don’t do this,” Cam whispered.

  Aaron grabbed Courtney by the hand and pulled her toward the bedroom door. “Come on, Court. You’re wasting time with her.”

  “Please, Cam?”

  She thrust out her bottom lip in what Cam was certain Courtney thought was a seductive pout.

  Cam stood paralyzed as Courtney followed Aaron into the bedroom, then she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she grabbed a beer and locked herself in the bathroom.

  The tacky wallpaper mocked her. The wetness that lingered between her legs mocked her more. How could Courtney do that to me? She was humiliated. Did she deserve what she got for how she’d treated Robyn? No, no one deserved this embarrassment. She downed her beer. She thought about smashing the bottle against the countertop but stopped herself. Instead, she picked up the wicker clothes hamper. She held it over her head for a second and brought it down hard on the counter.

  Cam awoke to Courtney’s parents standing over her, gawking. Rumpled, stinking of beer and sweat, she blinked into the too-bright light, trying not to look at the striped walls.

  “You should be ashamed,” Courtney’s mom muttered as she stared at the shredded wicker strewn about the floor.

  “You, too,” Cam mumbled. She opened her left eye just enough to look at the mess and was assaulted by the memory of Courtney’s betrayal, of her own rage as she beat the wicker hamper against the marble countertop until it was battered to bits. Her hands were in not much better shape. She remembered stripping off the T-shirt and jeans when she’d gotten sick—the result of the beer and the heartache. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to remember that she was only wearing her sports bra and her “I kiss girls” boxers.

  As Courtney’s parents towered over her, Cam wondered if Courtney and Aaron had been discovered in the bedroom, or if they’d gotten out. Cam considered the coldness of the tile flooring, which was probably imprinted on her face, and the waves of drunkenness breaking against the inside of her head. She braced herself to be dragged down by the undertow, but she wasn’t. Instead she was buoyed up, exhilarated by the clarity with which she saw the answer.

  Think what you want, the voice in her head told Courtney’s parents. It didn’t matter, because she knew what to do. She would go to Georgia to see Aunt Jess. As soon as her head quit ricocheting off the tacky striped walls.

  Chapter Three

  Tyler Mason’s Eyes

  Kenny Brewer stomped down an aisle in the Piggly Wiggly. He hated grocery shopping, and he hated how his wife knew every damned person in the store and had to stop to gossip with at least half of them.

  Kenny listened from a safe distance as Dorianne turned toward her audience of two. “I always knew I had a sister—well, a half-sister, but I only just recently found her.”

  “Really?” Cindy asked in her whiny, nasal voice.

  “And right here in Augusta.” Dorianne rubbed the goose bumps on her arms.

  Kenny rounded the corner and glared at her. “Dori, are we about done?”

  “Yeah, just a minute.”

  “Tell us about your sister,” the second woman said.

  Dorianne glanced at Kenny. “Her name is Grace. But I’ll have to tell you about her another time. We haven’t eaten yet, and you know how men get when they’re hungry.”

  Kenny rolled his eyes when the two women gave Dorianne knowing smiles.

  As usual, Dorianne drove them home. She’d been doing the driving since Kenny’s most recent DUI. He knew better than to complain about that, seeing how drinking and driving was how her mama and brother had both died. That was one fight he knew not to pick.

  Kenny didn’t say anything until they got inside, then as she unpacked a case of Diet Coke into the fridge, he said, “Dori, you need to get over that crap.”

  “Over what?” she asked.

  “Your mama set you straight on that crap years ago.”

  After Dori’s daddy died, someone at the Social Security office mentioned she had a sister. Kenny cringed at the memory of how Dorianne’s life had changed that day. At first she’d been devastated over having been lied to her entire life, then the need to know had festered in her for years. And now… now she swore… she said she knew in her very bones that she’d found her half-sister.

  “Your mama explained it was all a big mix-up, and she told you to drop it.” Kenny brushed the fine, light hair off his forehead and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Since when do you care if I listen to my mama?”

  “She’s probably rolling over in her grave at you telling strangers that nonsense about having a sister.”

  “Why are you getting all riled up, Kenny?”

  “I don’t know why you can’t just keep your mouth shut. Why do you go on and on about this?”

  She glared at him. “Because I know for a fact where my half-sister works. I’ve seen her. And she’s got Tyler Mason’s eyes and his chin, just like me.”

  “Give me a break.”

  “Besides,” she said, “her name is Grace. How can you not know the importance of the woman having the same name as my childhood cocker spaniel?”

  “You are off your damned rocker, woman!”

  Dorianne ran from the kitchen and locked herself in their bedroom. “I hate you, Kenny,” she screeched. “I hate you.”

  †

  Kenny stepped out of the cabinet shop into the bright sun. He watched as Dorianne pulled into the parking lot in their old, beat-up, 1977 Ford Maverick. He’d been expecting her. He knew she’d come by to get him, to apologize in that sexy way she had.

  Ignoring the smirks of his coworkers, Tank and Gary, he strutted across the parking lot. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he creaked open the door to the Maverick.

  The old car was about to fall apart, but it was a classic. He knew it was held together by rust, and it had two more doors than what was cool, but it had been a good car.

  “Hi,” Dorianne whispered.

  “Hi, yourself.” He stole a glance at her.

  She lit a Salem, and Kenny noticed her eyes were puffy. She’d likely cried most of the night and probably all morning, too.

  As she pulled out onto Highway 1, Dorianne handed Kenny a brown paper sack, crease-free except for where the top was folded down. He pulled out a ham sandwich and found a piece of Stir ’n Frost cake, left over from his birthday.

  “Looks good,” he said.

  Dorianne nodded and kept her eyes on the road.

  Kenny was just finishing his sandwich and fixing to start on his cake when he saw Dorianne shudder. He followed her gaze. Midway between Thompson’s double-wide and Walt’s ex-wife’s place, two buzzards perched on some road kill. The bloody buffet looked a lot like Bernie Thompson’s old bird dog.

  Dorianne lit another cigarette and took a few long drags. Kenny watched her concentrate on her driving, and as she pulled the cigarette from her mouth, the smudge of color on the white filter sparked his body to life. Lord, let’s just hurry up and get there.

  When Dorianne slowed the car and flicked on her turn signal, Kenny shifted in his seat, trying to lessen the strain.

  Dorianne pulled up along
side the rusting propane tank at Miller’s boarded-up service station and killed the engine. She sighed. “Kenny, about last night, I’m so sorry.”

  He wasn’t about to say a thing. No way was he taking any chance of interrupting the apology.

  Dorianne crushed out her cigarette. “I know you get mad at me sometimes. And I know I should just leave it alone.” She ran her hand along the seam of his Levi’s. “Forgive me?”

  Her touch made him shiver. He squirmed and pushed his crotch up to meet her hand. He worked his left foot under the seat to wedge up the lever and pressed his right foot into the floorboard to slide the seat back.

  A crow called from somewhere out of sight. Kenny took a deep breath and beat back the image of the buzzards feasting.

  In their ’77 Ford at Miller’s place, his hands tangling through her reddish hair to the darker roots and his head thrown back, he accepted Dorianne’s apology.

  When she’d finished, Dorianne straightened the collar of her blouse and settled back behind the wheel. “Kenny, remember last week when we fought about where I’ve been going afternoons?”

  He remembered the argument and the apology. He’d caught Dorianne lying about where she’d been that day. He kept at her, and finally, crying, she told him a real man wouldn’t worry, he’d know how sometimes a woman just needed to be alone.

  Well, he wasn’t stupid. He knew what she really wanted to say was that a real man would get her pregnant. A real man would give her a baby so she’d have a sense of family, since she lost that when her mama and older brother died.

  “I want to take you there.”

  He turned to Dorianne. “Huh?”

  “I want to take you to where I’ve been going. In town.”

  “When?”

  “Now.” Dorianne’s hands shook as she lit another cigarette.

  He groaned and readjusted his seat. He checked his watch with exaggerated impatience. “I got three minutes to get back to the shop.”