Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,64
dry up.”
Dad’s eyes flick toward Grandpa, and it’s so subtle I almost miss it. But as usual, he’s worried about saying the wrong thing.
I watch as Grandpa knocks his veiny knuckles against the table, then sighs. “Well, just take a look at Tanner Everett. If he’s not a sign that times are changing, I don’t know what is. That whole little …” He screws up his face. “That group of them. And people your age, always looking to try and be different.”
“I like the idea,” Mom says suddenly. “If you two want to work on a business plan for how it could happen—”
I hurry to lift my hands. “Not me. Piper. Sorry, but I’m only at the diner for as long as I can, umm …” My heart is pounding in my ears. This is the first part of the plan. The thing that is going to get me that much closer to living the life I want to live. “I’m opening a gym. Hopefully. I have some money saved up, and I’m going to start looking into it. Piper will be the one who gets the diner, and I’m okay with that.”
To say Piper looks shocked to hell is an understatement. We’ve always known the place would be split between the two of us, but she loves it there. She actually enjoys going to work.
“Sorry,” I say. “Probably should have talked to you first.”
“Sorry? That’s amazing. Are you serious?”
“Definitely. I want to use my degree. And Leon mentioned the town could use a gym, rather than people running over to Port Welling all the time. So I figured I might as well.”
There’s a beat of silence before Mom smiles. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“Just”—Dad runs a hand over his mouth—“seems an unstable sort of business. The diner’s solid, people need food. Who needs exercise?”
“Literally everyone.” I barely manage to hold my smile back.
“Interesting.” Grandpa turns to me, and the tone sets me on edge. “You’re opening a gym, because Leon told you to. You’re suggesting vegetarian foods for I’m assuming Kelly Atkins—and that pizza you and your gran made a while back was for him too, wasn’t it?”
He might be old, but there’s no denying he still has all his marbles. His tone is way too careful for me to relax. “It was.”
He huffs a short, humorless thing. “Seems like you’ve been hanging out with these gay boys a bit too much, Rowan. Eric Fletcher mentioned he sees you at the bar with that group sometimes.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, forcing my tone to stay light, even though by this point I want to growl. I clench my hands under the table to stop anyone from seeing that they’re shaking.
“You need to be careful. Be friends all you want, but those kids are sinners, and the last thing you want is to get messed up in that nonsense.”
Nonsense? I lean forward and meet his stare. “You might need to spell that out for me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh, do I?”
“They’ve lost their way, Rowan. Turned their backs on God and the church, and now they’re doing devil knows what with their lives.”
“You mean becoming a firefighter? Or running successful businesses?” My voice is growing loud. “Or finding loving relationships, or helping people out with whatever they need in town, or being kind and friendly and—”
His hand thumps down on the table. “This is what I mean. Walking out on church, the back talk and disrespect—”
“It’s not disrespectful to point out when you’re talking shit.”
He splutters. “The cursing! What is going on with you lately? You had your poor mother worried to death when you picked up and left and didn’t bother to tell anyone.” His eyes narrow. “Where have you been?”
“In LA.”
His mouth gapes open for a second. “With?”
I could lie. It’s not like they’d ever be able to verify the story, but the blood pumping thick in my ears is making it hard to think. It’s urging me to be reckless. “With Circus.”
“I knew it.” He pushes his plate away. “I’m warning you, Rowan. That boy is trying to turn you into a fucking queer!”
My mouth drops as I stare at him. Then at Grandma, who’s watching her plate, trying to block us out. Dad’s looking at me in shock, and Mom’s biting her lip.
Piper reaches for me, and when I meet her watery eyes, I know she knows. “Oh, Rowan …”
And … wait. It’s not her eyes that are watery. It’s