Page 19 of Gifts

“Well, there you go.” She raises her voice at me again. “For the love of God, shave your fucking legs!”

I close my eyes, wondering what the hell I’m doing.

“And what are you wearing? I wish I was there to pick your outfit, dammit.”

I say nothing. I haven’t given a thought as to what I should wear.

“Keelie?” she calls for me.

“Yeah?” I breathe, looking at myself in the mirror again.

She calms her voice. “Stop stressing. You know you aren’t going to let him fuck you tonight. Not with your kids and his daughter in tow. If I know my niece, she’ll monopolize him anyway. Still, shave your legs. It’ll make you feel pretty.”

I nod at myself in the mirror. Yes. I need that. I need to feel pretty.

I flip on the hot water in the sink and move to the shower to grab my razor.

“I’ve decided you need to go casual. So casual, it shouldn’t even be considered casual.” Stephie keeps talking, carrying on the conversation by herself. “It’s not like he called and asked you out, and you’re only going for pizza. Wear your tightest jeans with that long sleeve tee that says some shit about mimosas—it hugs your boobs. Then wear the baseball cap you bought when we were in the Outer Banks last summer. They don’t match, which is even better. You don’t want to look like you’re trying.”

I bring my leg up and put my foot in the sink to start shaving my legs, thinking the hat is a good idea. I don’t have time to do anything with my hair anyway.

Chapter 5

The Gift of Life

Asa

I lean back across our booth from Keelie with the dregs of pizza bones, pepperoni rolls, and chicken wings scattered on plates. That’s what everyone, but Keelie, ate. She had the baked ziti with a salad.

No wonder Saylor was excited to come here. They must be regulars. As soon as Keelie’s fine ass hit the booth, the manager appeared, setting a beer down in front of her with an orange on the rim. This was followed by a waiter with drinks for her kids. Saylor’s had a handful of cherries, which she started fishing out with her little fingers the second her drink was within reach. They were all eaten by the time Emma and I had a chance to order drinks.

We started out on separate sides of the booth, Keelie sandwiched by her kids with Emma next to me. By the time Keelie finished her salad, Saylor had made her way under the table and climbed up between Emma and me—much to the dismay of her mother. There was no reason for Emma to worry that we’d talk about her. Saylor dominated the evening.

“Saylor, baby. Quit climbing all over Mr. Hollingsworth.”

Saylor is up on her knees leaning into my chest. “But he likes me. Right, Asa?”

I grin and put my hand to her back to steady her, but don’t have a chance to answer when Keelie shoots back, “I told you to call him Mr. Hollingsworth.”

“He told me to call him Asa.” Saylor turns from her mom to me. “Right, Asa?”

“You’re right on both counts.”

I hear Keelie sigh and when I look to her, she’s resigned. Her daughter seems to have a stronger will than anyone.

“Can I have money for games?” Knox looks to his mom and Keelie glances at her watch before giving in again and digging through her purse for cash.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes.” She hands her kids a few bucks each.

Saylor scrambles over me and calls to Emma, “Come do the claw machine with me. It’s the best claw machine in the history of everything.”

I pick up Saylor and no sooner have her feet hit the floor, does she dart across the room to the meager selection of arcade machines and I stand to let Emma out. Who the hell knew I needed a bossy five-year-old to get my daughter off her ass? Not only has she hung out with goats, but she’s had to answer all of Saylor’s questions about high school, and now she’s playing outdated video games.

I reach into my pocket and peel off a twenty to hand Emma. “Feed the machines for them, sweetheart.”

Emma doesn’t miss a beat. “Cool.”

When I sit back down, Keelie has her arms crossed, pulling her shirt even tighter across her tits. I look up to her eyes that peek out at me from under the brim of her baseball hat. Her hair’s a mess of waves flowing out from underneath, and for some reason, I like the fact she didn’t feel the need to do herself up. Not that she needed to. I’d take her covered in paint any day.

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