Steplings: A Novel

Chapter 17

"You look all beefed up." "You look all tarted up." "Tarted up?" " It's what my mom used to say. It means, uh, like a ho or something. " "Well, thanks. I hate your haircut. You look like a skinhead ." "Skinheads shave their heads." " I liked your hair a lot better long." " I liked you better in pigtails and glasses." "Shut up." " I see you got your ears pierced." "T hey've been pierced since I was a baby, dummy." \'(lhen Jason didn't respond, she said, "But they grew over because I didn't like wearing ear studs." "Are those real diamonds?" "Yeah. My daddy's mom gave them to me. So what? Is that a real tattoo?" Jason swung his left forearm up between them like a classroom desktop on a hinge so he could admire the design and she could, possibly, be impressed. "So are you all like riding horses or something?" "Don't be stupid." "There's a horse's head on the shield." "Well, it was originally a cavalry unit." 256 "Do you all ride Vespas now?" He grinned crookedly. "No. Tanks, Bradleys, Humvees." "Oooo!" She backed away from the threshold in mock alarm, raised her palms at him. Her t-shirt peaked slightly at her chest, its fabric bunched under the small bulge. An impulse arose to tease Emily, but Jason thought better of it. She looked years older, like an altogether different person, an almost-teen, though in the several months since he'd seen her she'd only had one birthday, bringing the total to twelve. Her hair was shoulder length and loose, with bangs she kept sweeping out of her eyes with fingertips whose nails were painted black. She'd painted her toenails red. She dipped her head as a mute invitation to follow and turned on her bare heels. He went through the front door and closed the aluminum screen behind him. The early March morning was mild and balmy, so the house was open. "\Vhere's your mom?" He spoke to her receding back as she padded through the rooms. The house was a small brickand -siding ranch-style bungalow in an older neighborhood of Austin on a number street. It reminded him of their old house in Mesquite-you entered right into the living room, with an adjoining dining room and the kitchen straight through an archway. The scent of patchouli wafted through the air as he tracked her into the kitchen. "At work." " How come you're not at school?" "Gee, you're so nosey!" She went to the counter beside the sink. On the sill were plants in small Mexican pots. A dishrack held plates and clean glasses. "You want some coffee?" "You drink coffee now too?" "Too? You mean like in addition to all the other wild ho stuff you seem to think I'm doing?" "No, smartass. I meant like me." "No. Hate the stuff. No caffeinated drinks, no meat. But here's some left over from breakfast." She lifted the glass pot from its station in the maker and sloshed its contents at him. "Okay." "Staff development." 257 " I thought maybe you were being home-schooled now." Emily laughed. "Seriously? Who would do it? I'd have to do it myself." He shrugged. She poured coffee into a blue ceramic mug. "You want cream and sugar?" "Black is fine." She passed him the mug, and he took it, standing, while she leaned her hips against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd grown a couple inches, it seemed, and Jason was astonished to think that she might wind up being a tall person. Taking the coffee was only a ceremonial act, and he sipped it once ritually. He'd already had a quart of it this morning back at the motel. " I thought you'd be wearing a uniform." "I'm not on duty. Dog tags only. Did you want to see me in . '" "."No." He chuckled. "Uh-oh." Truth was he'd wanted to wear it, but Phillip would've ragged him to no end if he did. They fell silent. He sipped again. The brew was bitter and tepid. They were self-conscious. "\Vhose car is that?" "My buddy Phillip's." She grinned at him. " He knows you've got it, right?" He laughed. "Yes. Not to worry." "Are you going to see Lisa?" "No. Absolutely...