Page 20 of Try Me

“Just from the restaurant,” I assured her. “Take it.”

Mom gave me an uncertain look that I met staunchly.

“Just for the summer. I’m going to ask for a raise in August. That’ll be six months,” she relented, closing her eyes and pressing the pads of her fingers to them. “It’s not your job to fill in for your father.”Father. She said the word with such disgust now, so much conviction in it that guilt stormed me for the part of me that still loved him, that wanted to forgive him even when I knew I shouldn’t, even when his transgressions couldn’t have been more black and white.

“I’m not filling in. I’m being a part of the family. So let me.”

She stared at me for a long time in silence, and I knew she was trying to muster up some reason not to take the money. But we both knew I was right. At last she sighed, drumming her fingertips over the envelope. “All right.”

I grinned. “I’ll go get Carrie.”

“Hey.” She reached out and poked my shoulder. “Aren’t you forgetting to mention something?” She tugged on my tie. “How was the first day?”

I was late. Made a great fucking first impression and was partnered up with the guy who sucker punched me in the ribs, then wanted me to get him off. And worse, I’d wanted to.“It was fine. Good.”

And okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst. My associate’s name was Lena, and she seemed super cool and like she’d keep me busy. Maybe so busy I’d hardly have time to think about Mark. As for being teamed up with him, I figured we could just divide and conquer the research with minimal interaction.

“Mark Farrow is an intern,” I blurted. I didn’t know why I said it. I guess I wanted to see her reaction.

Her brows went up, and then she shook her head. “I wonder about him sometimes.”

You and me both.But what I said was, “You do?”

“I hope he makes it through life without becoming his dad.” Her gaze fixed on me. “I hope the same for you.”

When I got home later that night, neither of my roommates were around. They worked a lot like me. I did the dishes in the sink then took a shower, forcing the images of Mark from my mind when I jacked off.

Like a glutton for punishment, once I was in bed, I opened up our old text thread again, stared at it for a while, then clicked over to a different thread and stared at it even longer before typing.

Chet:I know I said I might be able to help you offload some shit on occasion, but I can’t.

Meecham:Can’t or won’t?

Chet:Does it matter?

Meecham:Whatever. Next time you need extra $, don’t be messaging me.

Chet:Not a problem.

8

Mark

“So what the hell was all that about the other night?” Nate pushed a bowl of chili fries in my direction, staring at me as I peeled the label from my beer.

“Nothing.” I shrugged, playing dumb and trying to appear engrossed in the newscast playing on one of the TV screens behind the bar. “Just something that got out of hand. It’s squashed.”

Nate let out a chuckle. “Right. Yeah, no, not buying it. Try again.”

I pointed at my bulging cheek. “Mouth’s full.” The more time that passed, the more I wanted to just pretend that night hadn’t happened at all.

Nate rolled his eyes, frustration evident on his pretty-boy features, and guilt washed over me.

“I’m sorry we fucked up your party. It was totally my fault. I feel like shit about it.”

“It’s all good. At least you kept it outside.” He gave me a faint smile. “Just fess the hell up, though. Is this still about you thinking Chet was supplying Cam?”

“Sort of?” I winced. “Mostly I was just drunk and being an idiot.”