This Much is True - Tia Louise Page 0,14
groan loudly.
“Damn…” Scout has no such qualms. “I hope you’re not planning to starve us every day.”
“I hope you brought money,” JR quips. “I don’t have unlimited resources.”
“I have money…” Sitting straighter, I hold up a hand. I don’t know why, so I put it down again. “We just have to stop at my bank so I can get a temporary debit card.”
“Don’t worry about it.” JR polishes off his sandwich.
“It’s the money you paid for the car, so… I guess if I’m still using the car, it’s technically yours—”
His brow lowers. “I haven’t made a payment yet.”
“Then how’d you get it?” Scout asks.
“They have this seven-day money-back guarantee. Payments don’t start until next week.”
He looks from me to John then back to me. “Is that why—”
“No,” his brother snaps.
My heart beats a little faster, and I think about his comment earlier. Robbing banks. “You never said why you were in jail.”
“I was set up.” He pushes the plate away and digs in his pocket, taking out a wad of cash. “Let’s go.”
“That doesn’t answer my question…” But he’s out the door, leaving me confused and a little scared. “Is that why you promised to keep me safe?”
Scout’s lips press into a line, and he shakes his head. “JR won’t hurt you.”
“Why was he in prison?”
The horn honks sharply outside, and Scout slides out of the booth with me behind him. “Our dad owns a gym. One of his suppliers planted HGH in an order of supplements, and JR got caught with it.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“HGH is Human growth hormone. It’s illegal.”
I stop walking. “So it was a drug deal?”
“Technically… But not like cocaine or heroin.” He walks back to me and catches my hand. “I believe JR when he says he misses his son, but this trip is about more than just a reunion. I think he’s trying to get there before our dad knows he’s out.”
We’re at the car, and I’m still feeling nervous. Looking up the road, I don’t see any signs of a bus station or any way of getting back to San Francisco. Why didn’t I just stay on the side of the road? Or hell, why didn’t I stay in LA?
“It’s still my turn to drive.” Scout leans the front seat forward so I can climb inside the car. “Climb in. I want to check out that football game.”
Jr
The bleacher-lined stadium is flooded with lights as we approach. Parked cars ring both end zones, and some spectators have arranged lawn chairs in front of the sparsely filled stands.
“Not sure that’s a safe social distance,” my brother huffs under his breath, parking at the edge of the field, far from the other cars.
“Not sure they care.” I look out the open passenger’s window, already growing impatient.
I have no idea what we’re doing here, but I step out as Hope exits behind my brother.
The night air is crisp and dry, just what you’d expect in the desert. Kids line up in the middle of the field. They’re dressed like any other football team, only they’re also wearing black masks beneath their helmets.
“Imagine, one day we’ll be telling our kids about this crazy year.” Scout leans against the hood, chewing on a Red Vine and tossing that football he bought in the air.
“I’ll never forget it.” Hope’s voice is quiet, and she hangs back by the door.
She’s acting nervous again, and I don’t like it. At the same time, it bothers me I care about her discomfort. She has no business being on this trip, and I won’t let myself get soft around her, no matter how cute she is in those boots with her wavy hair hanging over her shoulders.
A whistle blows, and the starting quarterback falls back. I watch him scan the field, and I’m pulled into a memory like I’m reading his mind. I know exactly what it’s like to spot every player, flying through all the potential outcomes in a flash in your brain.
The clock is ticking as he makes a decision, firing a pass like a bullet straight to the wide receiver, who easily runs it into the end zone.
The crowd goes wild, and Scout laughs. “Damn, he’s good. Reminds me of how we were.”
I watch the people in the stands, waving signs and pom poms. I don’t expect the surge of nostalgia it provokes.
“Nothing was like us.” I hear it in my voice.
“Come on.” Scout hands me the ball. “I’ll go long.”
I look at the pigskin in my hands,