Page 10 of You're so Bad

Smith isn’t the last name I was born with, but I’m used to going by names that aren’t mine. “My father’s someone everyone would be better off not knowing, and my mother thinks he’s the second coming. I guess they’re kind of like Burke’s parents, except shittier and much poorer.”

My friend Burke’s parents aren’t a gold standard, so she’ll understand what I mean.

I’ve only been back in Asheville for a few months, but I lived here for a long stretch eight years ago. Burke’s folks ran me off. At the time, I was working for them at Burke Enterprises. I found out they were responsible for a building collapse that killed people, and instead of copping to it, they tried to cover it up. When I confronted them with what I knew, they hired someone to dig into my past. He connected the dots that I’ve done my damnedest to hide, and they told me a truth I couldn’t deny—I had no iron proof, and no one was going to believe a piece of shit like me once they knew all the details of my past. They offered me a payoff, and I took it.

But they didn’t trust me not to run my mouth, so they hired someone to follow me around. My paranoia didn’t much like that, and I got to thinking they wanted to rub me out. I didn’t tell any of my friends because I figured Burke would side with his folks, and our buddies would side with him. So I ran. And I kept on running until Burke found me and brought me back.

Now, the secret about Mama and Papa Burke is out. Burke found the evidence I couldn’t, and his parents are going down. Even if they don’t get jail time, they’ve lost their shine and their company. Fucking good.

Still.

My father makes them look like they should be sainted.

Shauna seems alarmed by the mere mention of my waste-of-space dad, so I can only imagine how she’d react to the rest of my past. Thank fuck she can’t read minds. “My father’s in jail. He’s not going to bother anyone anymore.”

I’m not sure why I offered up so much information, but the words are already out, so I slap the arm of the rocking chair, and say, “Well, this has been a pleasure, sweetness and light. We better exchange phone numbers so we can get our story straight before next weekend.”

“Are you going to keep calling me stupid names?” she asks.

“Until I find one that feels right, little bit.”

She rolls her eyes but takes out her phone. Our fingers touch, and there’s a little zip, like the kind you get when you mess around with an electrical socket, except more pleasant. It’s unexpected, but I shake it off, smiling when I see the little goblin dog on her lock screen.

“No wonder he doesn’t like me messing with you,” I say. “He figures he’s got it locked down.”

I give her my number, and she sends off a text. I pull out my phone when it vibrates and grin at the middle finger emoji in my inbox.

I snap a photo of her, catching her with one eye half closed, the other wide open, then save it to my contacts under Light of My Life.

She leans in to see, then skewers me with a glare that makes me laugh. “I’m going to take one of you too.”

She gets her phone out and snaps it, then immediately glowers. “Why the hell are you so photogenic?”

“One of my many blessings. When’s my first clay lesson?”

Shauna studies me for a moment before answering. “You were serious about that?”

“My buddy Danny’s birthday is coming up in October. What better gift that a foot-high clay dick? He’ll love it. It’ll be the centerpiece of his home.”

Her lips twitch. “Sure. I’ll teach you. How about we see if you show up to the first Sten event first?”

“You’re on,” I say, holding my fist out for a bump. She gives it to me. “In the meantime, I better read the idiot’s guide to pediatric surgery.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t exist. Maybe just pretend you don’t like talking about work because it brings up traumatic memories.”

Traumatic memories are something I know a thing or three about. I nod. “You got it, boss. Text me about the first nightmare event. I can’t wait.”

She smiles at me, and I feel a tugging in my gut. Maybe because this is one of the first times she’s given me a real smile, and I like it.

“It’s at the event space at Buchanan Brewery.” She rolls her eyes. “My favorite brewery, not hers.”

“You like that campground too?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, she comes by that one honestly. I hate camping. Get this, though. We’re all going to be making pompoms on Friday night.”

“There you go,” I say with a grin. “Our chance to prove, once and for all, that your balls are bigger.”

ChapterFour

---