On The Way Down (The Retake Duet Book 1) Page 6

  He didn’t sound unhappy about how young his father had been when he was born, which told me a lot. Unlike me, Garrett hadn’t grown up seeing himself as a burden to a young parent.

  “Are they still together?” I asked.

  Garrett nodded. “Yeah. My parents are so in love that I’m pretty sure the world would stop spinning if they broke up. They started Original Pictures together two years after I was born and then Alan joined them about five years later, at which point it became a full-on family business.”

  “And what about Alan?” I prodded. “He didn’t bring a wife into the business?”

  I was curious because upon meeting him I’d though he seemed far too normal. Jewel attracted losers, and from what I’d learned so far, Alan didn’t fit the normal profile.

  Garrett chuckled. “You’re about as subtle as a bulldozer in a China shop, Shae.”

  I was glad his attention was on the road because it meant he didn’t see me blushing.

  “Alan’s wife Gail worked for a set design outfit. She died of breast cancer two days before their fourth anniversary. They never got to have any children and he’s not gotten close to marrying anyone since.”

  If he were smart, he wouldn’t even think of marrying Jewel, either.

  “That’s really sad. He seems so nice.”

  “He’s the best. Watching the love of your life die of a terminal illness takes a toll, though. He was plagued with extreme depression for the first sixteen or so months after Gail died. It got so bad that my parents insisted that he come live with us. There was nothing my dad wouldn’t do to help his brother, and my mom was just as passionate about it. I think what they did saved him.”

  “Your parents sound amazing.”

  He grinned over at me. “I’m quite partial to them.”

  I wondered what that felt like—to feel such affection for even one parent, much less two. I was close to Goldie, but there were times our bond had been manipulated by Jewel. I’d long yearned for the kind of pure familial love—the kind that came with an unbreakable bond—that I’d read about in books. The relationship my mother and I had was more like that of Lestat and Louis in the book Garrett and I were each reading. Lestat created Louis but he never (at least not to where I was in the book) cared for him in an unselfish way. They stayed together out of necessity as opposed to loyalty. The same was true of Jewel and me. Considering I was counting down the days to being able to get out on my own, I doubted anything major would ever change between us.

  I came out of my reverie when Garrett spoke. “You get lost in thought a lot.”

  I shrugged. “A little.”

  “I’ve spent a good amount of time watching you this week and during that time I’ve noted that you’re very…”

  “Very?”

  “Self-contained,” he finished. “I know fifty-year-olds who have a harder time sitting quietly than you do. I’m in the chair for an hour every morning and you never really speak to anyone. You’re perfectly content to sit there reading and listening to your music.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, I talk plenty, I’m just not going to disturb people I don’t know with idle chitchat. Especially not when I’m trapped somewhere with nothing to do and no one familiar around.”

  He nodded like he understood. “I’m sure being moved to butt fuck Egypt in the middle of a school year had to suck.”

  He had no idea. “Being in the middle of nowhere and cut off from my friends sucks, but I’ve realized that for me the worst part is being trapped. Today was the first day I was able to use the car and get out. Having the ability to go to the coffee shop was the most exciting thing I’ve done since I got here—at least until now.” I exhaled and leaned back so that I was staring up at the blue sky. “Being out here with you with the wind blowing my hair around and seeing how beautiful Utah is, this is freedom. I’ve never been so jealous of a car before.”

  His husky laugh had me lifting my head to look over at him. “What’s funny?”

  “My parents bought this and had it waiting for me at my rental house when I arrived here,” he admitted with a chuckle. “They said I should use the Jeep whenever I wanted to get around without drawing attention. I didn’t think it would make that big a difference from my Jag. Funny thing—I haven’t driven it even once since I got here. I blend in better with the Jeep.”

  “Not a bad problem to have,” I teased.

  For a while we drove without much talking other than oohing and aahing over the beauty of the mountain-shaped red sandstone formations.

  I was surprised when Garrett went back to something I’d said twenty minutes before. “So how come today was the first day you could use the car?” he asked.

  “Jewel hasn’t been willing to give up the Hyundai so I’ve been stuck on set. I wanted to get a job and take two dance classes a week but she’s not having it. Technically I’ve got enough money to buy my own car but she wouldn’t let me be on her insurance with a car of my own so I’d need to get my own policy as well, which puts it out of the realm of possibilities. It wasn’t so bad living in Burbank where public transport and friends with cars were readily available.”

  He was silent for several seconds before he said, “I notice that you normally call her Jewel as opposed to Mom.”

  My stomach dropped as I realized that I’d let down my guard with him, the one person Jewel had specifically told me never to discuss her with. I hadn’t understood why at the time she said it but once I knew Alan was Garrett’s uncle, I got it. The most dangerous part of her little performance with Alan lay in keeping me in the background. She’d sold herself as mother of the year for a specific reason. Whatever that was, I wasn’t privy to it. Dealing with her was difficult enough without incurring her wrath for ruining whatever it was she was up to. That being the case, I knew I needed to throw Garrett off the scent.

  “Only because I’m talking to you,” I lied.

  He tossed a skeptical glance over at me. My body tensed up as I prepared for him to call me on it—but he didn’t. He let it go. There were several seconds of silence as The Beatles CD he had in came to an end. Gesturing to the back seat he said, “Grab my CD holder and play DJ. If you grab the one that’s orange on the front you’ll be able to put The Beatles CD back where it belongs.”

  Being given carte blanche to go through his music didn’t suck. Although I had no musical ability at all, I was a hardcore music junkie. Songs weren’t just noise for me—they were sensory experiences. Like alcohol, pills, or a time machine made out of a DeLorean, music could transport me to a different place within a few notes.

  I was shocked to find three huge binder-style CD storage systems on the back seat. I thought I had a lot of CDs but my two portable cases each held one hundred and eight. This was far more than that.

  “My God,” I laughed as I hoisted the first one up and onto my lap. “How many are in here?”

  He chuckled as he shifted gears. “Two hundred and twenty-four in each one.”

  “And you lug them back and forth every day? You could count that as part of your daily workout,” I joked.

  “Actually, I, uh…”

  “You, uh?” I prodded.

  “I’ve got three more binders in the house and another three in my trailer, all arranged exactly the same, so that wherever I am, I can access what I want to listen to. It’s excessive as fuck but in my defense I really, really like music.”

  “I get it because I could see myself doing something similar. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that loves music as much as I do. My grandmother comes close, but she’s a hardcore vinyl lover so it’s not as if those are easily transported on the day to day. She makes mix tapes and stuff but those are bulky too. I wish I could talk her into CDs but she swears the music doesn’t sound the same.”

  “Your grandmother would love my parents. They’ve got an entire wall of their den devoted to albums. I joke that they love that collection more than they love me. They don’t, but I swear it’s close.”

/>   As we talked I undid my seatbelt, crossed my legs, opened the case, and started flipping through it. Since I was only looking for the spot to put The Beatles CD in I didn’t pay too much attention to the contents until I did just that. Once I did, I went back to the beginning and looked for what to listen to next. His taste in music was eclectic and I got a little lost in the As. ABBA, ABC, AC/DC, Adam Ant, Aerosmith, and Alice in Chains were all within the first few pages of sleeves. I stopped at Alice in Chains and took out my favorite of their albums, Dirt. I went back to going through the binder as the first song started playing.

  “You’re keeping me on my toes,” Garrett announced. “I admit that I wasn’t expecting a girl who liked Prince and The Beatles to choose Dirt.”

  I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head and turned to look at him. “Well, I wasn’t expecting Fire Swimmer to like Adam Ant,” I countered.

  “Touché,” he laughed. “I’m guessing that, like me, you enjoy a wide range.”

  “ABC is my motto,” I answered.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Anything but country,” I explained.

  “No, no, no,” he groaned. “Shaelyn! You can’t be truly well rounded musically without Patsy Cline, Dolly Parton or Johnny Cash. Don’t even get me started on Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, and Kenny Rogers.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I can’t imagine that I’ll ever enjoy country. It just doesn’t speak to me.”

  “I’ll work on you,” he chuckled. “My mother is from Bristol, Tennessee. She takes her love of country seriously and she passed that on to me. I’m not as rabid as she is, but I do quite enjoy it. I bet I can get you there, too.”

  A warm feeling rushed through me at his words. I wondered if he wanted to spend more time with me—or if he was just making conversation. I let myself debate that for a few seconds before I forced myself to stop thinking about it. Only time would tell.

  Chapter Eight

  May 1998

  We got back into town later that afternoon. I’d enjoyed my time on the road with Garrett, listening to music and laughing, which meant I wasn’t looking forward to being dropped off back at my car.

  “You doing anything for dinner?” he asked as he pulled up behind my car.

  “If nuking a Mama Celeste pizza counts as doing something, then yes.”

  “Sounds delicious,” he said dryly, “but if you want real food I’m going to put the grill on my back patio to good use. Better to eat with a friend than eat alone, right?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Are we friends now?” I asked. My voice sounded tentative, which caused me to blush with embarrassment. Inside, I died of shame as I wondered if he’d found the question gauche.

  “We just spent three hours in the car together and took in more than a hundred miles of scenery. I’d say we’re friends now,” he answered. “And as your friend, I think you should come and have dinner with me.”

  I wanted to go but I was afraid he felt obligated to invite me. “Don’t feel like you have to invite me just because I don’t know anyone here,” I mumbled.

  My stomach flipped with excitement even as I schooled my expression to remain passive.

  “Tsk-tsk, Miss Monroe. That’s not very friendly. If you don’t want to come to dinner just say so.”

  I knew I was blushing as I shook my head. “I want to come, I just wanted to be sure you really want to do it.”

  “I don’t invite people to my home if I don’t want them there.”

  I smiled. “Then yes, I’d love to eat with you. You’ll need to give me the address and directions. Since I haven’t been driving I don’t have the lay of the land here yet.”

  He nodded as he leaned over, opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small notepad and a pencil. The notepad was yellowed with age and had an assortment of coffee rings on the worn cover. The pencil wasn’t any better. It was about four inches long and had been repeatedly bitten. Also, the eraser was missing, something made more noticeable by the way the metal that once held said eraser had been pinched together. In an emergency, it probably could’ve been used as some kind of weapon.

  “That pencil has seen better days,” I joked.

  “It came with the car,” Garrett laughed. He flipped about halfway through the book before he found a blank page and began jotting down directions. When he was finished, he tore the sheet of paper from the book and handed it to me.

  “Here’s the address and the directions. For the record, I wouldn’t be at all sad if you brought dessert.”

  I licked my lips as I folded the piece of paper and shoved it into my pocket.

  “What kinds of desserts do you like?”

  “I’m simple—give me a cookie and I’m happy as hell. Butter cookies, chocolate chip, peanut butter, oatmeal, sugar cookies, snickerdoodles—I love them all. I’m also a fan of cake.”

  “Cookies or cake it is. What time should I be there?”

  He looked at the watch on his left wrist before he answered. “How about six?”

  “Six it is,” I confirmed as I grabbed my purse and opened the car door. Hopping out, I waved at him before I went to my car. He stayed behind my car until I was in with the engine on. When he drove away, I pulled out and headed straight for the supermarket.

  I didn’t like cooking or baking—time in the kitchen that didn’t involve pressing buttons on the microwave wasn’t part of my repertoire—but I knew how to slice and bake cookies. The only problem with that was that for some reason the Moab market didn’t carry any of the ready-made dough. It was so bizarre I could hardly believe it. Did Utah residents not enjoy eating a tube or two of raw dough when the going got tough? I felt like I had taken a turn to crazy town.

  I went to the bakery to buy fresh cookies, but they were out. My choices were a chocolate cake, a vanilla cake, a marble cake, seven different kinds of pie, or cupcakes that had been decorated to look like Cookie Monster or Elmo. In the end, I settled on a chocolate mousse cake with decadent icing and a ton of delicious-looking chocolate shavings along with three packages of Pepperidge Farm cookies I grabbed in the cookie aisle. When the woman behind the counter rang me up and announced the total, I almost fell over. In LA, the cake and cookies would’ve cost me at least thirty bucks but in Moab it was eighteen dollars and twenty-three cents.

  When I got home, I ate a piece of bread with peanut butter before I went to take a bath. I took my little boombox into the bathroom and put on The Cure’s Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me before I climbed into the tub to relax. The house was so peaceful with Jewel away that I was able to focus on what I really wanted to—which was myself.

  If Jewel were home I knew there was no way I’d be getting ready to go to Garrett’s house for dinner. With her gone, I was free to do what I wanted to do. I was looking forward to graduating high school and having the world open to me in that way all of the time.

  It took about twenty minutes to get from my house to Garrett’s, which meant I was about ten minutes early. I’d worried about getting lost but his directions were great. The house sat on a county road on a large plot that consisted of at least eight acres. I hadn’t seen another house in about two minutes, which made his place seem even more secluded. The house and the separate four-car garage were beautiful.

  The house was by no means huge or imposing, but it screamed class. I’d half expected some over-the-top monstrosity, but it was quite the opposite. The exterior was a lovely soft orangey earth tone, which was complemented beautifully by the mountain views, all of which were postcard perfect. I’d just gotten the bag of dessert I’d brought with me from the passenger seat when Garrett opened the front door and hurried down the path to take said bag from me.

  The sight of him in khaki shorts and a black Depeche Mode concert tee shirt from the Violator tour was drool inducing. To that point, I’d only been around him when he was wearing jeans. Don’t get me wrong, the way jeans hugged his ridiculously perfect ass and showcased his muscular thighs was just another bit of proof that
God existed, but I liked getting to see casual him, too.

  I was glad that I’d changed from the dress I’d originally put on when I’d been getting ready for dinner. The faded blue jeans, elbow-length light gray shirt, and white Vans I wore were obviously a far better choice. The biggest change from the way I’d looked when I had been with him earlier in the day was that I’d styled my hair down for the night.

  “Any trouble finding the place?” he asked as we walked up the flagstone path.

  “Nope,” I answered, popping the p. “Your directions were spot on. If this whole acting thing doesn’t work out you could work for Triple A doing TripTiks.”

  He snickered as he stepped into the house and held the front door open for me. “Well, my mom has always said that I had an odd fascination for the Thomas Brothers map books when I was younger.”

  I stopped short as I entered the house and took it in. The soft, wide plank of the white oak flooring was stunning, as was the cathedral ceiling that had beautiful timbered accenting, but the focal point of the room was all of the massive windows that looked out onto the desert landscape. It was large but cozy at the same time.

  “This is amazing,” I breathed as I looked around and took it all in.

  I heard the sound of the door closing just before Garrett appeared at my side. “I really like it too. You should’ve seen the monstrosity they first tried to book me into. It was everything wrong with design, right down to the gold toilet, gold fixtures, and the polished marble dance floor in the home club,” he groaned. “On top of being ugly as hell it would’ve been a hell of a drive to set each morning and I like sleep way too much for that shit.”