I smile. I watch him move toward the door. He puts his hand on the knob. He shakes his head. He leans his brow against the wood. He says, “Oh fuck,” and then he passes through the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Spring Semester, 1990…

As I pull off the freeway to start making my way across Berkeley to home, I peek at Neil out of the corner of my eye. He’s quiet, troubled, and a little grim. He’s been that way since he climbed into the car in Santa Barbara.

I flip on my turn signal. “I’m not letting you out of this car until you tell me what happened.”

Neil closes his eyes, doing a slight shudder, and then looks at me. “It was the worst fucking ten minutes of my life. I’m not repeating it by telling you about it.”

I pucker my lips to keep from laughing. Jack only talked with him for ten minutes. It’s rattled Neil in a big way. Ten minutes. How bad could it be?

“Jack seemed fine when he talked to me,” I say, turning down my street toward the condo.

Neil stares. “You’re his daughter. I’m some asshole he caught sneaking out of his house.”

“You’re not an asshole.”

“I feel like an asshole. He made me feel like an asshole.”

I laugh this time. I can’t stop it. Neil is a deeply sensitive guy. He’s also very respectful in a sweet, quiet way. Very different than how I expected him to be under his layer of hot-guy arrogance.

I turn into my driveway.

Neil rakes a hand through his hair. “Do you really want to know what Jack said?”

I nod eagerly. I stop without going all the way to the carport. I turn in my seat to face him.

Neil takes a deep breath. “I only remember the highlights clearly. The rest is a blur. He told me if you hurt her, I will kick the shit out of you. And then he said nothing for like five minutes. He just sat there staring at me, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s fucking unnerving to have Jackson Parker stare at you. Then he said Don’t be a fuck-up. No one can make you a fuck-up unless you’re willing. And then he walked away.”

My eyes fly wide as laughter explodes from my chest, throaty and deep. I curl my fingers around the steering wheel and lay my head against it, trying to contain my humor.

“It’s not funny,” Neil says, but he’s laughing a little himself. He smiles. “What did he say to you?”

I glance up at Neil. “Six words. I wrote them in my journal and counted them afterward. I hope you used a condom.”

Neil grimaces.

“Your dad is an interesting man.”

I nod. “Jack is interesting.”

I start inching forward toward my parking space in the lot. I turn the corner at the carport row. I slam on my brakes.

“Crap,” I exclaim, my fingers tightening on the wheel. “I’ve been on the road for seven hours. I’m tired. I don’t need this. Can’t he pick on someone else for a change?”

Neil looks at me. “What?”

I shake my head. “That freaking van. Every time I turn around it’s in my spot.” I push back in my seat. “Rene wants me to have management tow it. I’m towing it tonight.”

Neil points. “Don’t go all princess-ape-shit. There’s a spot over there. Just park over in guest parking.”

I clench my teeth. “I don’t want to park in guest parking. I want to park in my spot.” But I park in the vacant space anyway.

I stop the car. I turn to look at Neil. He’s smiling. He lightly brushes my lips. “You’re so cute when you’re snooty and angry,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss me again.

I melt into his mouth and, between the light play, I say, “And you’re so cute when you’re freaked out over Jack.”

He stops kissing. He stills. “That was a mood kill.”

He opens his door and gets out of the car. I climb from the driver’s seat. I stare at him across the roof of the car as he stretches. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Neil didn’t have me drop him at his place; he just had me come straight home.

“Do you want to come up for a while?” I ask.

He reaches in for his bag. “No. I should probably head out. I’ve got some stuff I need to do before work tomorrow.”

Stuff? I frown. Why so secretive here, Neil? I watch him lift my duffel from the trunk and set it out on the ground. He goes in for his guitar case.

“I’ll call you.” He drops a light, quick goodbye kiss on my lips.

I stare up at him. “You can’t call me. You don’t have a phone. You don’t know my number.”

He grins. “I can get your number from Jared.”

I flush.

“He was really stoked that you gave it to him, Chrissie.”

Shit, I’d forgotten I’d given my number to Jared. I wonder if it matters to Neil. I’m not sure what this is to him or to me. It’s too new.

I stand beside my car, watching Neil walk away. At the exit of the parking lot, he turns back and waves, and I smile.

I grab my duffel and make my way to my top floor condo via the elevator. I hate coming home to an empty house. Rene won’t be home from her dad’s for two more days. Neither of us has classes starting until Wednesday. I had planned to stay in Santa Barbara up until Rene returned, but Neil leaving for Berkeley today made me change my plans on the fly. I sort of thought Neil would spend the night.

Not one of your smarter calls, Chrissie. Stuff. He has stuff to do. Crap, why doesn’t anything with Neil go as I expect it to?

I drop my keys onto the table by the door, switch on the lights, kick off my flip-flops, and toss my duffel across the room toward the bedroom door. I click on the TV just so there’s sound in the room and wander into the kitchen.

I grab the phone, the refrigerator magnet with the telephone number for the management company, and sink down in a chair at the kitchen table. Snooty-princess is about to go ape-shit and get that ugly van towed.

I punch in the numbers. Ring. Ring. Ring. Recorded voice. No one will be in the office until Monday. Great.

I put the magnet back on the fridge, grab a Diet Coke, and stand at the kitchen patio doors, staring out at the view. I love how the city looks at night, all the sparkling lights from San Francisco bouncing off the water of the Bay. A million dollar view or so Mr. Thompson said in that you girls don’t live in the real world way he has from time to time. He may be a reformed man-whore now that he’s remarried, but he’s still a jerk.

Poor, Rene. Poor, poor Rene. She’s going to be a grumpy, emotional mess when she returns after three weeks with her dad.

The phone rings. I reach for the cordless on the counter. “Hello.”

“I asked you to call me when you reached Berkeley. I don’t like it when you drive up the coast alone,” Jack says.

I roll my eyes. I’m about to say I didn’t drive alone, but I don’t know if that one will go over well today.

“I made it back to school in seven hours. A little bit of traffic. Not bad.” I take a sip of my soda. “I’m sorry I forgot to call. It’s just, there’s this stupid van parked in my carport. He does it all the time. I was going to call the management company to have him towed, only no one is there. Do you think if I call the police they’ll tow him?”

“Don’t get him towed,” Jack says. “Try leaving a note on his windshield. Most people will do the right thing if you just ask them to. Have you tried leaving a note?”

“Nope.”

“Leave a note. If that doesn’t work, then have him towed if he does it again.”

“OK, Daddy. I had a good Christmas with you. I’m glad I came home.”

“Come home more often. I like having you here. Just…” A long pause. “…no overnight guests. Show respect when you’re home. Leave that behind in Berkeley.”

My entire face covers with a burn. It’s the closest thing to a reprimand Jack has ever said to me.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jack continues. “I like Neil. He seems like a good guy. Head on straight. Let me talk at him. Never talked back. Respectful. But there’s nothing wrong with taking your time in getting to know someone, Chrissie. That’s all I wanted to say.”