Chapter 2
“Are you a redhead…all over?”
I realized he meant the hair that covered my groin, and I blushed and nodded. I got the deep-mahogany coloring from Ma’s side of the family. There was at least one redhead in each generation. I would have preferred to have brown hair like Poppa, but my sister, Casey, got that.
“Cool.” He winked at me.
I opened my mouth to tell him about Greeks having red hair—not many people knew that—but he started talking.
I sat beside him and listened while he talked about the cities he’d lived in: New York, Las Vegas, Los Angeles—exciting, glitzy cities I’d read about and wanted to see myself but knew I never would. There was little chance I would ever get out of Tarpon Springs.
I hung on his every word, at first barely noticing that the trolley driver was watching us through the rearview mirror.
But then I did notice, and I began to worry that maybe he would call dispatch, and dispatch would call the cops, who would call my father…
No, that was dumb. Poppa didn’t care. Why would anyone else?
“Something wrong, Sweetcheeks?”
I shook my head.
“Well, as I was saying, in Vegas I had this fantastic run of luck. It would have lasted longer, but…”
The driver pulled up at a stop and opened the door. A bunch of people got on, showing him their passes, and when the trolley started off again, I was relieved to see the driver was no longer watching us.
After about another ten minutes, Franky pulled the cord that let the driver know a passenger wanted to get off and reached up for the overhead strap. “This is our stop.”
Our stop. I liked the sound of that. We got off the trolley.
“We still have a bit more to walk, Sweetcheeks.”
Fortunately, it had stopped raining. “I’ve never been in this part of town.” I looked around.
“It’s kind of shitty, but don’t worry about it. I’ve got street cred.”
Street cred? “Are you in a gang?” I didn’t know whether to be terrified or gratified.
He just grinned, rested his big hand on the back of my neck, and gave a slight squeeze.
The neighborhood was run-down, rusted trailers, houses missing roof tiles or slabs of siding.In one front yard I could see the mangled corpse of a small animal—a cat, maybe, someone’s pet?—and I shivered and forced myself to look away from it.
“Why do you stay here?”
“Oh, I’ll be moving soon. I’m just waiting for some money to come in.” He turned up a cracked and broken walk. “This is my place.”
It was as shabby as its neighbors. The St. Augustine grass in the front was overgrown, and the streetlight glinted off hubcaps and abandoned bikes.
He led me into his kitchen and opened the small, dingy refrigerator. “Guess I don’t have as much as I’d thought.”
“That’s okay. I’m…” I licked my lips, unable to take my eyes off his body, off the way it was bent, his butt stretching the material of his jeans even tighter. “I’m not really hungry.”
“No?” He straightened and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw my eyes on him, he grinned, and I was mesmerized, unable to stop staring at his full lips. “Well, maybe I can offer you something that you will be hungry for. Come on.”
He caught my wrist and pulled me along after him, leaving the fridge door hanging open.
His bedroom wasn’t very tidy. Ma would have been mortified if any of the rooms in our…her house looked like that.
But then I forgot all about that as he murmured my name—”Sweetcheeks”—and began making love to me….
* * * *
It wasn’t all about sex, though.
The next morning Franky said, “We’re going to McDonald’s for breakfast.”
“Okay.” I followed him to a shed at the rear of the property.
“We’ll take my friend’s motorcycle. He stores it here, and he won’t mind if I borrow it.”
“Uh…don’t we need helmets?”
“Helmets are for candy asses.” He swung his leg over the motorcycle and settled himself on the seat. “Coming?” He waggled his eyebrows, and I blushed but climbed on behind him. I held onto him and grinned into his T-shirt. The wind blew through my hair, and I felt wild and adventurous.
And when we arrived at McDonald’s, he draped an arm over my shoulder and swaggered into the building.
After he’d paid for our order and we sat in a booth to eat it, he told me what we were going to do as soon as the mall opened.
“I’m gonna buy you jeans and shirts and—”
“Motorcycle boots like yours?”
He smiled and ruffled my hair. “If that’s what you want.”
“Cool!” I gave a little bounce and poured syrup on my pancakes. I took a bite, chewed, and needed the bland coffee to wash it down. The pancakes were okay for a fast food place, but the ones Ma made…
Thoughts of the family I no longer had caused my eyes to well with tears, and I had to bite my lip hard to keep from bawling like a baby.