Six Days After Christmas
Part 2
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Day two began early, in the Cohens' driveway.
Ryan helped Sandy situate the luggage in the trunk of the BMW.
"Ok kid," Sandy slammed the trunk shut, "we have to go over a few things. Don't take any of it personally. There are certain parental by-laws I have to enforce."
"Sure," Ryan answered, stuck his hands in his pocket. He watched Sandy with uncertainty, wondering where the conversation was going.
"I'll break it down in the most simple of language. No sex, no booze, no fights, no parties, no drugs, no parties with sexy girls doing drugs. Any questions?"
Ryan shook his head back and forth.
Ha, Sandy forgot to outlaw porno on pay-per-view.
"And," Sandy dug into his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, "no arguing when I hand you this two hundred bucks, because you need gas for the Rover and maybe just some disposable cash for miscellaneous stuff and Kirsten and I need to feel like we won't have to worry about you being stranded without any resources."
He held out a wad of crisp twenties.
Ryan made no attempt to take accept the offering. Newport had robbed him of his desperateness. Money had lost value in his life. Fallen from a top priority to a casual after-thought.
"Come on," Sandy placed the cash in Ryan's hand, "don't make a big deal out of this. I'm not leaving you alone without money."
"I have money," Ryan protested, "I have a checking account and a debit card and money that I just got for Christmas. This isn't necessary, I have plenty of money."
"Well, now you have more," Sandy slapped him on the shoulder. "Behave yourself."
Ryan gave up, pocketed the bills.
"I left all the numbers on the kitchen counter, Kristen posted them on the fridge and Jimmy has a third set just in case. You have his phone number, right Ryan?"
"Yeah," Ryan nodded.
"Good. I told him to stop by in a couple of days to check on you. But I still want you calling us at least once a day, ok?"
"Uh-huh."
Sandy stopped talking for a second, stared at Ryan.
"You're one lucky bastard, getting out of this godforsaken trip, you know that don't you?"
"Absolutely," Ryan drawled, because yes he was and yes he knew.
"But, you know what? Kirsten needs this after Caleb's disastrous Chrismukkah revelation. Don't get me wrong Ryan, Lindsay seems like a fine girl. She'll make a great addition to the family, but getting away right now, out of town, is just what Kirsten could use."
Ryan glanced at his watch, 7:30.
"I uh, I should take off now," he motioned toward the Range Rover.
As he walked towards the truck he called out over his shoulder, "You left bail money, right?"
"That's not funny," Sandy threw a hand wave in Ryan's direction. "Besides, if anyone is liable to end up incarcerated over these next few days, a safer bet would be me or Seth."
"Well, you have my number," Ryan continued the joke. "Give me a call if you need me to come get you."
He was about to have a mansion to himself, with an unlocked liquor cabinet, no real supervision, and a fairly unlimited stream of funds.
Two years ago he would have partied 'til he puked. Maybe wake up in time to try and clean up. Maybe feel a little guilty.
Last year he might have had a few people over, or at least Marissa.
This year he realized he was looking forward to the 30th, when Kirsten and Sandy would come back and find everything in order, including their trust in him.
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She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, sneakers, a little bit of make-up, shiny lips, hair brushed but loose, blowing in the light morning breeze as she acknowledged his arrival with a slight wave.
Normal jeans.
Not too tight, or barely hanging on a set of bony hips. Not complicated with intricate designs or flashes of offbeat color, just a pair of well-worn jeans.
She looked so fucking hot.
He jumped out of the Rover and opened her door.
"Thanks," Lindsay smiled. He wondered if she caught him looking at her ass as she climbed into the truck. "Where do you want to go for breakfast?"
"I don't care, you pick." And he didn't care and he wanted her to pick, because she was still unfamiliar to him and he wanted to learn something new about her. Everyday he wanted to get to know her just a little bit more.
"Clancy's? They have really good French toast."
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"And blueberry muffins. They make the best blueberry muffins."
"How are you?" He asked cautiously. "Are you doing ok? With everything?"
"You know what?" She looked out the window, "I don't want to talk about what happened with…my father. Can we just pretend, for a little while, that my life hasn't completely been turned upside down?"
"Yeah," Ryan concentrated on the road, "Yeah, I mean, of course." They came to a stoplight and he added quietly, "But if you want to talk about it…"
"Thank you," she smiled.
A few blocks later, Lindsay played with the radio, found a song she liked, sang along as they drove to the restaurant.
She was so different than most girls. Unguarded. Seemed to barely notice that she was in someone else's car, controlling their radio, singing off key, to an extremely cheesy pop song.
Seth's brain would have exploded two miles back, a combustible combination of top forty, meaningless lyrics and tone-deaf girl.
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They left the library at 4:00 p.m. He had to get home, shower, and arrive at the Petersons' by 6:00 p.m.
"So, you volunteered to park cars, and that's why you get to stay home while Seth had to go to Rancho with his parents?"
"Pretty much," Ryan grinned.
"And the Cohens have no problem leaving you alone for four days?"
"Nope," Ryan smiled smugly, "I'm very trustworthy."
"Uh-huh," Lindsay deadpanned.
"What are you doing tonight?" Ryan poked her in the stomach.
"Who me?" Lindsay pushed his hand away. "I'm busy. I plan on doing nothing until around eight o'clock when I intend to do more nothing while wearing pajamas and sitting on my bed."
Naked. Maybe she sleeps naked. Maybe sometimes she masturbates before she falls to asleep. Maybe…
"Ryan," Lindsay waved a hand in front of his face, snapped once. "Hello? Ryan Atwood. You just went past my street. What are you thinking about?"
"Huh?" He snuck a guilty glance in her direction, "Um, sorry, should I turn around or can I go a different way?"
She shook her head in mock disgust, "It doesn't matter. This way is fine."
When they arrived at her house, he realized there was no way in hell he wanted her to leave. No way was he going to go park some fucking cars while she was sitting home alone in pajamas, or maybe even no pajamas.
Fuck that.
"Um, you could come with me tonight, if you wanted, to the Petersons'. I think they might need a few more people. And the tips are decent. Seth and I did it last year."
Lindsay held on to the door handle, scrunched up her nose, considered his proposal. He figured it was the promise of money and not necessarily the thought of being with him that swayed her decision.
"Are you sure it's ok?"
"Yeah," Ryan lied. "Of course, I'm positive, it's no big deal. Do you have black pants and a long-sleeved white shirt?"
She did.
He waited in the truck as she ran to get them.
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Mrs. Peterson kissed him absently on the cheek.
Mr. Peterson shook his hand.
Ryan doubted that either of them remembered his name.
They barely acknowledged Lindsay, which was fine with Ryan. He was panicked the whole way over that they would say no to her helping and make him look like an idiot for dragging her along.
"Thanks for bringing me tonight," she said to him, as they sat at the bottom of the stone steps that glided up a perfect path to the Petersons' ornate double doors. "This is an upgrade for my night, as pitiful as that sounds."
"Yeah," Ryan scratched the back of his head, "It's probably not in either of our best interests to tell anyone how we spent today."
"What?" she faked ignorance, "Are you saying we're losers? Breakfast at eight a.m., library 'til four, parking cars at night? People PAY to live this life."
Ryan sat back, tried to get comfortable while they waited for the guests to arrive.
"Well, when you put it like that then…yes, we are huge losers."
"Shut up!" Lindsay shoved him hard, caught him off guard, and then fumbled to catch him as he lost his balance and hit his cheek on the hard concrete.
"Oh shit, Ryan, I'm so sorry. Oh my god, are you ok? I'm such an idiot."
She whipped out a tissue from somewhere, pressed it against his bleeding bottom lip and helped him sit back up, his weight causing her to list slightly.
"Ow!" He exaggerated, but she looked so miserable that he immediately dropped the act.
"I'm fine. It's not even bleeding anymore. See?" He lifted the tissue away from his lip, licked at it with a swipe of his tongue, dabbed with a finger to make sure there was indeed no more blood.
"Let me see," she gently moved his hand away. "God, I'm such a jerk."
Lindsay touched Ryan's lip with a soft finger.
He held his breath.
When she leaned in and kissed him, he returned the effort, cupping the back of her neck, gently slipping his tongue into her small mouth, exploring every inch of it.
"I am so sorry," she apologized once more.
Ryan smiled. "I'm not."
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Rich people tip well.
Drunken rich people tip even better.
By midnight, Ryan knew they would be driving some really drunken rich people home.
At three a.m., he and Lindsay dropped off the last couple. He opened the Clarks' front door and forced a polite smile as he handed Mr. Clark the keys to one cherry red Ferrari.
"You're a damn good kid," the man slurred. "I wish my own fucking, worthless son was half as good as you."
Ryan wasn't sure what to say, so he fell back on an old-faithful.
"Um, thank you."
When Mrs. Clark tried to tip him, Ryan rejected the money, reminded the woman, "You already gave me a tip, so, good night." He started to close the door.
"You're the boy that lives with Sandy and Kirsten Cohen?" Mrs. Clark asked.
Ryan nodded. The admission shouldn't still embarrass him, but it did. He would never been a true Newport Beach resident, these people would always be wary of him, think of him as the juvenile delinquent charity case.
"Well you're absolutely charming. I have no idea what the hell Julie Cooper's…" Mrs. Clark made a "phew" sound and gestured in the air, "Sorry, Julie Nichol's problem is. You are certainly not the thug she's always making you out to be."
Ryan blew out a breath. He was pretty sure she was trying to compliment him but it was late and Lindsay was waiting in the Rover and he just wanted to go to fucking bed.
Mr. Clark settled the matter with a brisk good night and a closed door.
Ryan jogged to the Rover.
"Do you want to drive?" Lindsay asked him.
"Naw, you know where you're going better than I do." Ryan settled his head back and didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt Lindsay gently shaking his shoulder.
"Hey, we're at my house," she quietly informed him, put the Rover in park. "So, thanks. I actually had a good time tonight, although for the life of me I can't explain why."
Ryan scrambled out of the truck, opened her door.
Gave her a long goodnight kiss.
"I'll see you later," Lindsay smiled, finally separating from him. She started to walk away, and then turned back once to wave.
Ryan watched her go, his brain still trying to wake up enough to drive home.
"Hey, wait up," he called out to her. "You said your car is screwed up?"
"Yeah," Lindsay confirmed. "I called my mom tonight, to let her know we'd be late, and she brought it to this guy she knows who is a mechanic. He thinks it's going to be at least five hundred dollars, which completely sucks."
Ryan fished around in his pants pocket, drew out a pile of wadded up bills that he had made in tips. He had no idea how much there was, but it had to be at least three hundred bucks.
"Here," he held out the lump of money.
She stared daggers of contempt at him. "Um, I have my own money. Remember? I parked my own fair share of cars tonight. I don't need your money, thanks."
Fuck, she's insulted. Idiot. Now you've ruined it and she's back to thinking you're a social reject.
"You need to get your car fixed. Does it really matter if you take some of my tip money to do it?"
Her face softened.
Ryan saw an in and kept on shoving, "If you don't need all of it, just give me back any change. But it's not like I slaved away for this and you need a car that moves and I need a lab partner that isn't dependent on public transportation."
Her features relaxed entirely. "I really, completely and totally misjudged you that first day at school. I have no idea why you even still talked to me after the way I treated you."
The second day after Christmas ended in Lindsay's driveway, with Ryan solving her most pressing problem and walking her to her door, not leaving her alone until the door was safely open, and not before giving her a dazzling goodbye smile.
And Lindsay wondered how long it would last, whatever it was that they were building.
Whatever was evolving between her, and this quiet, shy, amazing boy.
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End of part 2