Page 44 of Elusion

“Yeah, Jordan,” he says. “I’m good. Thank you. How are you this morning?”

“What’s wrong with you? Does someone have a gun to your head?”

“That’s great.” He chuckles and repeats, “That’s great.”

“Are you acting out a scene fromDisturbing Behavior?” I ask.

“Well, I was calling to let you know that we’re about ten minutes out.”

I sit up, and the phone drops onto my lap. “Oh shit.”

“Yes, Mom and Dad are very excited to see you, too.”

I roll to my feet and dig through my drawer for a pair of khakis. “Stall,” I say, bouncing around on one leg, sliding the other through the hole.

“They’ve been looking forward to it since last month.”

The light-blue polo shirt from Nana hangs in my closet, but my belt—where the fuck is my belt?

“It was great of you to invite us for the day.”

Brown Dr. Martens wait in their original box under my bed along with a pair of dress socks but no belt.

“Maybe we can swing by that coffee place you like and pick you up something.”

I poke my head in from the hallway. “Yes, please, Dustin. Earn me a few extra minutes.”

In the bathroom—oh God, the bathroom—I apply the toothpaste to my toothbrush and multitask. The towels on the floor go in the hamper. I wipe out the sink, run an antibacterial wipe around the rim of the toilet, wash my hands, and spit.

“…with two sugars?” Dustin says as I return to my room.

“Text me updates.” I end the call. He’ll pretend to say goodbye.

Shit. Great idea to invite the family down the day after my birthday.

Down the hall, I pound on Gavin’s door. “Mr. and Mrs. Waters touch down in T-minus ten minutes. Clean up Johnny.”

The door jerks open, and Gavin tears past me in his boxers to wake up Johnny in the basement. Everyone knows ten minutes affords little leeway to make our place presentable—well, at least to my parents’ unattainable standards.

I barge into Benji’s room. He groans and mutters while I rummage through the closet. My belt. Success.

“Benj. Up. My parents will be here in ten.”

He straightens up in bed like an electrical current shot through him. “Someone came home with Johnny last night.”

Of course they did.

“Gavin’s on it,” I tell him. “Nice clothes. Clean up.”

The guys won’t screw around with tidying up and presenting themselves well. My parents hold the lease and pay our utilities as part of the deal for me attending law school after graduation. They’re under the impression everyone pays me for living here. Not so much. I see no need for my friends to hand over their hard-earned cash since a summer job with one of my father’s lawyer friends guarantees me more than enough for the school year.

I launch myself down the stairs and pick up in the living room. I fan out the magazines on the coffee table like frickin’ Martha Stewart and add fresh smelly stuff to the thing on the other table where the smelly stuff resides. Coming around the corner from the living room, holding the cellophane bag of dried, scented flowers, I slam straight into … Jess? Her eyes do a down-up, and she giggles. Apparently, she can’t recognize a sense of style. Johnny comes up from the basement behind her. He lets out a, “Fuck,” when he sees me and drags his hands through his hair.

I weigh the pros and cons of killing him, but then I’d need to change and clean more.

“John, get upstairs and find something to wear in either my closet or Gavin’s.” He keeps his head down on his way by, and I return my attention to Jess. “How are you getting home?”

“I either need a ride or have to wait for Felicia to come and get me.”

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