Page 12 of Walk on the Wilde Side
"You sure are good at this seduction stuff. Red onion and dill pickles. Quite the erotic combo." He laughs at his own joke. "I've got a call coming in. I'll talk to you later, and pick out something extra hot to wear for Saturday. I love to show my girl off."
"Sounds good." My enthusiasm wanes more. "I'll talk to you—" He's moved on to the other call before I finish.
My phone buzzes with a text. It's Zander.
Just wanted to let you know that Dad's tests look good. Minor damage but the doctor told him lifestyle changes or it's curtains. Not in those exact words though.
I can't tamp down a smile as I text back.
That's good to hear. Maybe this showed him that even Finn Wilde is mortal.
Nope, I think he'll use this near miss as proof that nothing as stupid as a heart attack can take him out.
You've got a point there.
The shells are moving around my wrist like cold pebbles as I type. I take a photo of the bracelet.
Guess what I'm wearing.
Did not expect the conversation to go that direction, but I'm game. Something skimpy?
No, Mr. One Track Mind. I'll show you. You won't be disappointed.
Well, fuck.
I hesitate a second before hitting send. There's no response at first, and I'm embarrassed about admitting that I still have the darn thing. Then the phone rings. It's Zander.
"Hello," I say tentatively. I brace for the sound of his voice. It's a voice that I know too well and one that always makes my heart race.
"You still have it," he says quietly. If only he knew how many mementos in my silly little box are from a memory that involves him.
"You know me—sentimental nerd."
"That's right. I remember that cute little box with all your treasures. You really are a sentimental nerd, Nevvie. I like that about you," he adds softly almost as if he didn't mean to say it out loud.
"I wear my nerdiness with pride, Zander Wilde. Hey, I'm glad your dad is good." I absently rummage through the box of trinkets, and my hand lands on a piece of rubbery plastic. I pull free the fake, glow-in-the-dark witch finger, complete with long black nail and wrinkled knuckles. I stick it on my forefinger. "I can smell my frozen chicken nuggets, so I guess my gourmet dinner awaits me. Hey, I'm going to send you another picture. Let's see if you can match it to a memory. I'll talk to you later, Zander."
"Yeah, Nevvie, sweet dreams. Wait, do guardian angels dream?"
I chuckle. "Night, Wilde."
"Night." I send off a picture of the witch's finger, then I head out to eat.
seven
Zander
The photo pops through. It takes me a second to figure out what I'm looking at. Then it's clear. I text back.
You even excel at being sentimental. And yeah, that memory is still crystal clear. Night, GA. That's what I'm calling you now cuz guardian angel is too long.
She sends back a heart emoji. I put my phone away and stretch my legs out as I slump against the couch. It's been a long fucking day. After flipping through a million possibilities on television, I turn the thing off and toss aside the remote. For all of as second I consider heading down to the Gold Rush for a beer, but I know I'll be surrounded by nosy people who've all heard different levels of rumors. I already had two friends texting to find out the date of the funeral. Rockhurst has a rumor mill problem, but mill makes it sound as if the place can gather, process and refine rumors to put out a decent product. That's not the case at all. By tomorrow, half the town will be talking about my dad in the past tense.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it quickly, stupidly thinking it'll be Nev again. It's Becky, a woman I've been seeing occasionally. She's feeling lonely, according to her text. It's not like me to turn down a good fuck, but I'm spent so I tell her maybe tomorrow night. Knowing Becky, she'll stop talking to me for a week because I turned her down. That's fine with me. I swipe the screen and go back to the pictures Nev sent. The bracelet still looks pretty damn good, but it's way too long for her tiny wrist. I scroll down to the witch finger and smile. I can't believe she still has it.
Then
"Are ya all sixteen?" The ticket seller has his hair greased down like a vampire and he painted fake blood on the sides of his mouth. He's also chewing the biggest fucking wad of gum I've ever seen. He rolls it from side to side like a damn rubber ball as he talks. "Gonna need some IDs. You can't get in without a parent unless you're sixteen." He looks at me. "You go ahead." He hands me a ticket. Jameson, Zach, Kinsley, Weston, Indi and Nev all show their IDs.
