Page 23 of Baby for my Dad's Best Friend

“Yeah, kid. Let’s get you some shoes.”

Shoes, it turned out, were Carl’s gateway drug. Once he had shoes, he wanted jeans, and then a shirt. He was as tightly guarded with these desires as I was with mine, but I recognized them, and he got the fucking jeans and shirt. And then he was so jacked up on excitement and uncertainty that I managed to buy him a burger.

He tore through it in a few bites, then leaned back. He was staring at me with an expression I recognized. Complete distrust. Why the hell was I doing this? What did I really want? Couldn’t be his mom, he could tell she wasn’t my type. Was I getting some sort of good press for this shit? He doubted it. It wasn’t like I was famous or anything. Was I a pervert? If so, I’d done a damn good job hiding it over the last few months.

Basically, the same thought process I’d gone through when I was in his position and Jack was the one buying the burgers.

“I want to talk about school,” I said, sensing that between the bags at his feet and the burger in his stomach, this was the time he was most receptive. “This is your senior year. You’ve stuck it out this long, you might as well finish strong.”

His dark eyes rolled up. “Yeah, I’m gonna graduate, old man. Don’t get your Depends in a bunch.”

That was what had struck me from the beginning about Carl. A lot of kids dropped out as soon as they turned sixteen. He was still there. He wanted to graduate. He wouldn’t tell me why, but I had a feeling there was a reason. A dream he had locked away in that heart of his, behind his skinny chest, beneath the oversized T-shirt. Something so private he only allowed himself to think about it once in a while.

I thought of myself, alone in bed. Sixteen and knowing that I coulddosomething. That I was good at shit. But having no idea what all that added up to. Being terrified it was nothing. Hoping so badly it was something. Then tucking it back inside like a faded photograph, turning it face down so no one could see.

Jack had seen though. Fucking Jack, the reason I was here, in more ways than one. If I hadn’t had a mentor myself, I’d sleep in on Saturday mornings.

“I want you to do more than graduate. I want to see you in college or trade school or wherever you need to be to get to where you want to be.” I had a bribe lined up, too, but I wanted to see Carl’s reaction to this first.

Carl snorted. “Okay, man. Sure.” But I saw something new in the flinty, narrow eyed stare he gave me. I got the sense that he was taking my measure for the first time. Looking past the expensive haircut and casual polish that having money gave you. “Why do you do this shit?” he asked abruptly. “It’s some sort of white savior high, isn’t it? Help a poor kid and feel good about your fucking enormous carbon footprint or whatever.”

I almost choked on my soda. The last thing I’d expected Carl to come out with was a slam on my carbon footprint, which was as small as I could get it. “You’re white too, Carl,” I said when I’d recovered. “In fact, you’re Irish, so you’re as white as they come.”

He stared at me, still waiting for his answer.

I sighed and cracked my knuckles, wishing I’d gone straight to the bribe. There was no pat answer for why I did this shit. It didn’t feel good to drag my ass out of bed at nine am and hang out with a teenager who looked like he hated my guts. “No, it’s not a savior thing,” I said finally. “It’s just that it feels shittier to not do it than to do it.”

Carl blinked, processing that. “So it does feel shitty?” he checked.

“Yeah, sometimes. But it’s like, it’s my turn, you know?” It had been a minute since I stumbled over words, but then again, I’d never had an audience as tough as a kid from the wrong side of Boston. I should know, considering I still was that audience, deep down. “Someone did it for me,” I clarified. “And I was an asshole about it at first, but in the end, it was what I needed.”

“And you thinkIneedyoulike that? Okay, man.” Carl laughed, too long and too hard to be genuine. Necks craned as people in the food court looked over to see if they could catch the tail end of the joke.

I sat back and waited, thinking,Jesus, this kid would be an asshole to the Dalai Lama.Then thinking,Just like you at his age.

“Trade school or college,” I repeated. “Or military.”

“I’m not going in no military.” Carl drummed his fingers on the table, all tics and twitches and nerves. Now that he’d gotten real food in his stomach, he didn’t have the lethargic apathy of this morning, but the energy was too charged to be productive. He’d have to learn to focus it. “Maybe college,” he said grudgingly, as though doing me a favor. I got a glimpse of what might be on that faded photograph he kept pressed to his heart, face down.

“You get your application together, I’ll buy you another pair of shoes.”

I didn’t know if bribery was how the program intended big brothers to operate, but I didn’t care. A kid like Carl would purposefully drop the ball on his future to spite me if there wasn’t something in it for him.

When I dropped Carl back off at his house an hour later and headed back to my side of town, I felt like maybe I’d done something. Maybe I’d helped. At least I’d gotten the kid to eat something besides straight sugar and tobacco. But as the familiar shape of my side of town came into view, as I slid into my personal parking spot in the garage that cost twice what his sneakers cost me every month, his question came back to haunt me.

Why did I do this shit?

For all the reasons I’d told him, but for one more, too.

For the couple of hours I’d been focused on his problems, I’d been able to leave mine behind. The kiss that had haunted me all night, the feel of Layla in my arms–I’d managed to push it out of my head.

Now I was back, and so was it.

CHAPTER15

LAYLA

Iwanted to be irresistible on Monday morning, but I overthought it and changed my outfit so many times that Liv came out of her room to see what the hell I was doing banging my closet door open and shut so many times. Then, after the outfit was finally sorted, I almost forgot my lunch.

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