Leslie's Curl & Dye Page 22

  At the same time, I was an adult and I still contributed to the household— gave her grocery money, picked up Pops’ meds, visited with Grandy, just like I had been doing since I moved back to Potter Lake. There wasn’t too much she could say, though she did ask me to “bring that man around” so the family could get to know him. KC only got a home cooked meal if I took him to the house for dinner, so he’d spent a good bit of time with my family and they loved him.

  Well, Mama tolerated him, since he was looking to take over for Mayor Adams. We agreed to leave campaign talk on the porch and that was keeping the peace, for now.

  KC must have sensed that I wanted to talk. He filled every quiet moment with babble about the team, the campaign, his shop, my shop, the next four weeks before election day. I didn’t offer much in the way of conversation, the occasional mmhmm in response to a question. I propped an elbow on the window ledge and stared out the window at the dotted landscape of Potter Lake.

  The sun was beginning to set earlier. There was a crisp feel to the air and a fresh and delicious scent I had always loved. The beautiful landscape of changing colors and the shimmering lake between the two sides of town made us seem idyllic. No one from the outside would know it was being torn in half.

  KC was back to his favorite topic, lately. He’d been good about brushing off the Mayor’s tactics in public, but in private he was seething, itching to lash out. “I wish I could say something, you know? Put him in his place. I said I was going to run a clean campaign and I meant that but—”

  I glanced over at him, his skin glowing golden in the evening sun. He punched the steering wheel with the heel of his hand and heaved a frustrated sigh.

  “He’s just digging in,” I soothed, reaching across the console to squeeze his arm. “If this is all he has, we’re in good shape. The people that would choose him over you because of some pictures would choose him anyway. Don’t get caught up in that. Focus on the positives. Focus on all the support you already have.”

  He dropped a hand from the steering wheel and intertwined his fingers with mine. “I know, babe. I hear you, and I’m grateful.” He brought our jumble of fingers to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “But I’m frustrated. There’s so much I could say about him and haven’t. If I lose because I decided not to fight on his level…”

  “Listen, if you lose, you lose fair and square. You go down fighting. But we are not talking about losing right now. We have a few weeks left and we are going to give it everything.” I squeezed his fingers wrapped around mine. “Right?”

  KC nodded, rolling his lips in. He was still consumed with it, mentally and emotionally. And he would be, I realized, until the election was open. Time to change the subject.

  “Did you talk to your folks about coming for the election?”

  “I ran it past my dad the other day,” he said, turning onto his street and approaching the duplex townhomes at the end of the block. “He said he would talk to Mom and see how she felt about it. Last time she was here, she wasn’t in a wheelchair. It’s just extra logistics we have to play with.”

  “Can they stay at the house with her chair?”

  “They’d probably stay over at TC’s. She has a bedroom downstairs. The chair is more for comfort but I don’t want her going up and down the stairs.”

  “Okay. So, I guess we’ll plan to see your parents in a few weeks.” I shot a soft smile over to him. He pulled into the garage and put the truck in park.

  “What are you over there smiling at?”

  “I get to meet your parents, finally. I mean… I do get to meet your parents don’t I?”

  KC chuckled and popped the latch, climbing out of the truck and leaving me inside. He keyed in the code to unlock the door.

  I opened my door and hopped out. “KC? Be serious. I do get to meet them right?”

  He laughed again as he opened the kitchen door. “Come on, here. The alarm is about to reset.”

  I walked into the house and he closed the door behind me. Locks and beeps automatically sounded, letting us know the house was secure.

  “I’m just going to assume yes, because you can’t hide them from me. But are you introducing me as… your friend? Your… campaign manager?” I stepped close to him and slid my arms around his waist, tipping my face up so he could kiss me. “As… the love of your life?”

  “Mmmmmm,” he hummed, his lips opening and head tilting to deepen the kiss. After a few moments, we came up for air. “They already know who you are, Leslie.”

  “I know they know who I am— you know what? Nevermind.” I pulled away, heading down the hall. “I’m going to hunt them down and tell them I’m the love of your life. How about that?”

  KC grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close again, up against his molded chest and taut belly. Sometimes I wondered what planets aligned that let me be with this beautiful, sexy man every day. I probably did some real good deed, or something.

  “That’s what I’m saying, baby. I talk about you nonstop. They already know how I feel about you, that you’re special to me. I don’t have to introduce you as anything but Leslie. They know who Leslie is.”

  “Oh.” My breath hitched in my throat and I couldn’t say much else for a few seconds. But then I found my voice. “Well, how come I don’t know all that?”

  KC rolled his eyes and smirked. “You serious? Where are you standing right now? In my arms, right? Who brings you lunch when I know you have back to back appointments and you didn’t schedule yourself a break? Who got that new leak at the salon fixed without you asking me to? Who’s trusting you with his future, right now? Who… who’s standing right in front of you, hoping you that you’ll be my future?”

  I blinked, waited half a second, then asked, “That was a lot of questions. Can I get a clue?”

  KC snorted, then bent to drop a peck on my lips, turned me around and pushed me toward the stairs. “I don’t know why I like you, Leslie. You don’t have any sense. Get up there and get ready for me.”

  “Where will you be, while I prepare myself?”

  “Gotta check on TC. I promised my parents I’d lay eyes on her at least once a day.”

  “You’re such a good brother.”

  Unh, he grunted, limping toward the kitchen door. Seeing him in pain twisted up my insides. I climbed the steps, a little heavy hearted but hopeful that I could convince him to see a doctor.

  Chapter 24

  KC

  * * *

  I knocked a quick tap-tap on the metal door before I tried the knob. If TC was home and awake, the door was unlocked. She was way too used to small town living and her bold attitude made me nervous. When the subdivision was empty and it was just our places, I tried to come over and check on her if I knew she was home. Now that more houses had been built and people had started moving in, I was even more wary.

  “T!” I called out, stepping inside her house and closing the door behind me. I would sneak and lock it on my way out. “Where you at?”

  “TV room!”

  I weaved through the entryway toward the den, where she spent most of her time. Her floor plan was similar to mine, but not exact. The differences amounted to a few hundred extra square feet.

  TC was spread out on her sectional in her usual lounging clothes, a t-shirt and some leggings, her head covered in a colorful scarf. A bowl of popcorn sat in her lap and she held the remote aloft, muting the oversize TV she’d been watching.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “Not at all. Have a seat.” She made room for me on her section, despite the fact that there was a whole room full of couch I could sit on. We were used to being close, sitting together. “How are you doing? How were the kids? How’s Leslie?”

  “I’m good, the kids were holy terrors and Leslie is amazing.”

  She tossed a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth and chewed. “So why are you over here bothering me and not over there with Miss Amazing?”

  I swiveled my head from the TV to my sister. “Exc
use me?”

  “No shade, absolutely none, to Leslie. She’s great, I like her a lot. Better than Lauren.” We both shuddered. Then laughed. “But uh… you’re here and she’s there and it’s after 9 o’clock. These are sexin’ hours.”

  “I mean… I know you’re one of the guys and everything but I don’t want to talk to my sister about sex with my girlfriend.”

  “Why aren’t you over there doing it?”

  “I can’t come check on my little sister?”

  “You’re only older by three minutes, KC. Settle down. Besides, phones don’t exist? You saw my lights on, you knew I was home.” She dug into the bowl again and pulled out a handful of popcorn before offering it to me.

  I took it and had a couple of pieces. “She wants to talk about the knee. She’s been wanting to talk about the knee. I had a rough night and I already know I’m going home to a bunch of questions. I don’t think I’m going to be able to get away from it this time.”

  “So, don’t try to get away from it. Answer the questions. You can do that.”

  I stared at the bowl in my lap, trying not to meet her gaze. TC had this way of looking at me, that confirmed she knew what I was thinking and was already inventing arguments against it. I hated that look. She got it from our mother. “It’s in my past. Can’t I just leave it there?”

  TC laughed, louder and longer than I cared for. I lifted my head to glare at her and she quieted down. “Uhm, it’s not in your past, KC. It’s here and now. It’s less and less weight that you can put on that knee. It’s wearing your brace every day, lately. It’s the almost empty industrial size bottle of Advil on your desk at the shop.”

  “Alright, alright. I get it. I was hoping you could tell me how to get around this.”

  “Why would I do that? Of course I’m going to side with your girlfriend. And your parents, by the way. If you think they’re not talking about you, think again.”

  I already knew TC was running her mouth to them. A few days after Leslie and I got together, my mom called me, her voice so gushy and happy, hinting and prying for information. Like I said, TC was my small town. I couldn’t keep a thing from her and didn’t try. She knew all of my secrets.

  “Yeah. I figured that, big mouth.”

  “Look, I know y’all are fresh and everything, but I see how you look at her. She’s not the kind of woman you want to let get away. Again.” She made it a point to widen her eyes and lift her brows on that last word. “You have to come clean. It won’t be as bad as you think it will. If you keep hiding, it’s going to drive a wedge between you. And if she finds out from someone else… boy...”

  She stretched her leg out to kick me, though luckily in my thigh and not my knee. “Don’t let that happen. Go home. Talk to your woman. She’s the real thing, KC. Don’t let something else come between y’all.”

  She kicked me again. “I want to finish this movie before I go to bed. Go.”

  I pushed up from the couch, then pointedly set the bowl back in her lap. “It’s Boogie Nights; you’ve seen it twenty times.”

  “So? Get out.”

  “I’m locking your door and setting the alarm.”

  “Whatever.”

  I let myself out of TC’s place, but not before I glanced at the top of the line security system that she barely used and shook my head. I engaged the locks, then turned it on and pulled the door shut. Maybe I should have called our mom about that.

  When I got back into the house, I headed straight for the stairs. At the second floor landing, I followed the beam of light spilling from the bedroom. Leslie liked the overhead lights off and the side table lamps on, dimmed low. She was partial to soft lighting before we went to sleep. She said it calmed her. I said whatever kept her comfortable in my bed was okay with me.

  The TV was on ESPN, with SportsCenter droning in the background. Leslie was sitting on the bed, flipping through an issue of Cosmetology Today, in one of my t-shirts and a pair of boy shorts. A growl rose from my throat. She looked up from the magazine and smiled, appreciating the implied compliment. She could dress in the sexiest clothes in her closet and I would love the look, no doubt, but my favorite way to see her was dressed down, at her most comfortable. And I loved her in my shirts and a sexy pair of underwear.

  I walked through the bedroom, reaching behind my neck to pull the collar of my shirt up and over my head. I balled it up in one hand while the other worked the button and zipper of my shorts. They fell to the floor and I kicked them toward the laundry hamper in the closet. I approached the side of the bed that had become hers; not that it mattered because I always dragged her to the middle of the bed and pulled her body close to mine. At some point every night, she worked her way out of my clutches, but for a few minutes, her soft skin was pressed against mine, chest to feet.

  I climbed up on the bed and crawled toward her until I was close enough to nuzzle my favorite spot on her neck. I worked my way up to nibble on her ear, then around to lay soft kisses on her lips. I leaned into her, nudging her to lay back on the bed, but she hummed “hmm-mmm” and placed her hands on either side of my face, breaking the kiss.

  “I know you know I want to talk. And I know you know what I want to talk about.”

  “So you’re saying I can’t seduce you into not having this conversation?”

  “I’m saying you can seduce me after this conversation. Come over here.” She gave the space next to her a couple of quick pats. “Relax. I’m not trying to stress you out or come at you some kinda way. I’m just trying to understand.”

  I puffed my cheeks out with a heavy breath, and hung my head. Then, slowly I crawled over her to the spot she’d designated for me to sit, scooting up so my back was against the headboard. Leslie backed up so she was up against me. I looped an arm over her shoulder.

  “So…” she began, gesturing toward my right knee, the troublemaker. “When we met, you had knee problems, but you could still play. What was that about?”

  I huffed a sarcastic breath. “Me being stubborn. Basketball was better than running the streets, so as long as I kept my grades up, my parents let me play as much as I wanted. Summer leagues, city intramural teams, school teams. It was all basketball, all the time.”

  I smiled a little, feeling nostalgic about that point in my life when all I had to worry about was an algebra test and making a game winning free-throw. Sure, I thought I was under pressure, had a lot on my plate, like any kid would.

  “All those years of jumping and running, plus all my weight on my frame took its toll. My knee started giving me problems in high school. I ignored it because I was on three teams that year and I didn’t want to drop any, but my dad caught me icing. Doc said the cartilage was degenerating, and if I didn’t take it easy, I’d be working with bone on bone. It was something they wanted to keep an eye on before they looked at surgery. I wanted to hold off on that, as much as I could and so did my dad. He made me drop two teams and I took the summer off, just to give my knee a break.”

  “Hmmmm, “ she mused. “That must have sucked, after playing nonstop for so long.”

  “Sort of, but my senior year, I was focused on trying to get some attention from a college scout. It was the only chance I’d really get to leave Austin, but I needed a scholarship to go. I played the best I’d ever played, our first game that season. The coach from Healy University was in the crowd. Came to the house, met my parents and everything. Between my dad and I, we decided not to say anything about the knee. I felt like the rest had done me some good and I didn’t want to be penalized over it. What’s funny is, coach talked to me about the draft, too. He asked me did I want to wait a year and see how I did in the NBA draft. My dad said hell no.”

  I laughed, remembering that tense conversation, then me trying to convince my father that it could be good.

  “He was worried, you know, with the condition my knee was in, it’d get worse sooner than later. And he didn’t want me to be under that kind of pressure at eighteen. So I went to Healy and shit wa
s sweet for a long time. It’s cool being the big fish in a little pond. Then I got that call, my sophomore year...”

  I hardly ever talked about this stuff, about my mother’s illness and our family issues. I’d only done that Sports Illustrated interview because a reporter called me asking about her and if something was going to hit the airwaves, I wanted to spin it. I felt forced to do that interview, and after I gave it, I clammed up again.

  Hell if I was going to let this come between me and Leslie, but baring my soul was harder than I thought it would be, and I hadn’t even got to the real reason I never talked about the knee. I knew I wasn’t about to be met with judgment or harsh tones or pity, but I was the person other people talked to. I didn’t lay my problems on people.

  I inhaled deeply and tried hard to push forward, trying to remember that the more Leslie knew, the better she would understand where I was coming from.

  “We had a long talk about mom’s MS. About how the doctors had been misdiagnosing her for so many years, fighting the symptoms and not the disease. About what they wanted her to do, all these tests— MRI’s and scans and clinic visits. Dad let it slip that the bills were just barely manageable. Cavanaugh GC does good business, but the health care plan didn’t cover what mom needed. They were coming out of pocket on a lot of expenses, plus sending money to me and TC. I just… I just felt…”

  I shook my head, suddenly at a loss for words. The emotion of that call swelled in my chest like it had just happened yesterday.

  “Helpless,” Leslie said, laying her head on my shoulder. “I felt some of that when I learned about Grandy’s stroke. I was thousands of miles away. There was nothing I could do.”

  “Exactly. But I knew a thing I could do. I went and talked to the Coach at Healy a couple times. He’s a good guy; he let me dump on him about the situation and I asked him, you know... what if I went for the draft? Just to see what would happen.”