Page 5 of Perfectly Imperfect Us
Skylar’s jaw dropped open at the implied insult.
“Okay, girls. Before we take things too far, how about we head on out of here, huh?” Kadee wedged herself between Skylar and me like we were actually mad at each other. Thing is, Skylar was a knockout and we all knew it. Cankles wouldn’t dare try to form on Skylar Rae’s gorgeous runner legs.
We nodded, grabbing our things and starting to move to the front door through a crush of people. Kadee hollered at us to stop a second. We looked back to see Lacey handing her business card to the singer before he launched into his next song. He probably thought she was hitting on him, but I hoped he read the card anyway and gave her a call. She might be able to help him with those songs that weren’t quite right. We elbowed our way out of the crowd as the band started up again, escaping into the balmy night air.
“Anybody else’s ears ringing?” I asked as we climbed into my giant tank of a truck.
Lacey shook her head. “That guy could be really great someday, but he’s gonna have to ditch that band. He won’t like to hear it, but I hope he’ll at least call me. I got a song right now I think he’d be perfect for.”
I fired up the truck, grateful it started. Always a tossup to see if it would run on any given day. Lacey’s predictions were way better than my fifty-fifty chance of Ol’ Tucker starting up. See, I was born and raised in a small town and we named our vehicles. It was a thing. A sacred, time-honored tradition and who was I to turn my nose up at that?
“Everyone going on the forest run tomorrow night?” Skylar sounded so happy about it I couldn’t say no. Besides, I already said yes to Ryder, so I was well and truly stuck.
I pulled out of the parking lot and immediately had to slam on my brakes. The truck groaned in protest but thank goodness it stopped in time. Some jackal drove by on the wrong side of the road, slowing only to flash us the peace sign out of the open driver’s window.
“What the…?”
“I’m calling that in. Boy’s gonna get someone killed driving like that.” Lacey grabbed her cell phone and called the sheriff’s department.
“Is it just me or did that look like Cook Barfield?” Kadee stared at the taillights disappearing into the night.
My skin prickled with goose bumps despite the humid air in the truck without a cool breeze to take the edge off. Just the name Cook was enough to make every insecurity I’d ever had come roaring back to the forefront of my brain. That guy was the worst kind of bully and I would know since he tried his bad behavior on me in elementary school. I’d fought back, of course—anyone who met me could see I had enough sass to hold my own in any fight—but his barbs had still hit home, causing internal damage I would never let anyone else see.
I let my foot off the brake and pulled onto the road, glad his car was nowhere to be found. Lacey hung up after telling the police dispatcher what had happened and what direction he’d been going in. I hoped he got pulled over. I hoped he got arrested. I hoped he got everything that was coming to him.
“Okay, so let’s talk about tomorrow night. Should we choose partners to run with so no one gets lost?” Skylar asked innocently.
I rolled my eyes and focused on the road. They better partner me with the slowest of the bunch. I didn’t like running and I didn’t like sweating. I didn’t even like half the people going to this thing. Things were so much more simple before the Nickel Heads came back to town and ruined everything.
3
Ryder
I sipped my second cup of coffee slowly, which meant I could actually function as opposed to the stupor just one cup of caffeine gave me. Not that the coffee beans Mom kept in the house counted for real coffee. I didn’t like to think money or fame had changed me over the years, but I could admit to being an espresso snob. Nothing tasted quite like a dark roast in France, no sweeteners or milk to mar the underlying notes of flavor that stood on their own.
“Good morning, dear.”
Mom swept into the kitchen, her hair looking like she’d already spent an hour or two at the salon. She popped a piece of gluten-free cardboard—she swore it was bread—into the toaster and reached for the pot of coffee.
“You look lovely this morning,” I said, extending the olive branch. We had to live together until I found my own place. I could at least be kind.
She didn’t even turn around, just patted her hair like it was a living thing. “Thank you, son. Too bad I didn’t have a daughter, I could have taught her the secrets to looking fresh-faced at all hours.”
And there it was: the subtle dig.
I quit counting how many times Mom had sighed over the years and told me how unjust it was for her to have a son who could never grow up to become Poppy Queen just like her. When I was four, I remember sneaking into her closet to wear her high heels in an attempt to give her the daughter she kept going on about. No little boy likes to see his mom sad. When she found me she got angry instead and told me never to play with her things again.
I took a deep breath and forced a smile on my face. For myself, not for her. I didn’t need to lose a year off my life due to rage and distress over her careless comments. What I needed was to find a house, as soon as possible.
“Do you know any realtors here in Nickel Bay?”
Mom sat down at the kitchen table, a single piece of toast and black coffee her breakfast. “Let’s see. There’s Jay what’s-his-name. He dated Skylar Mulholland a while back. He’s quite handsome.”
I refrained from the eye roll. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m not looking for a date. I need a realtor.”
She swatted at my hand. “Oh, you stop. I forgot how witty you are.” She took a bite of toast and furrowed her brow. “Oh! I know. Emmilene Harper! Don’t know why I didn’t think of her right away. She’s perfect.”
I typed her name into my phone and pulled up what looked to be her company website. “Jet-black hair?”
