Graveyard Games (15 page)

"Tommy," she said with a sigh, shaking her
head. She glanced past him toward the pool tables and saw Shane
watching them with interest, cue stick in hand. She met his eyes,
seeing his brow knit as he looked at her. Dusty smiled up at Tom
and said, "Okay. Let me get my coat. I'll meet you in the car."

Tom smiled and touched her hand. "Great! You
won't regret it." He started toward the door.

"Tommy," she called after him and he turned
to look at her. "It can't be—we can’t be…like it was before."

Tom, sensing her meaning, glanced at Shane.
"I know."

She watched him walk out the door, and then
went to turn in her profits and get her coat. She decided she would
get Tom to stop by her house so she could change.

"You have a good time, young lady," Lee
ordered. Dusty smiled at him.

"Where are you going?" Shane turned her to
face him and she gasped when he grasped her wrist, hard.

"On a date." She shook him off and started
toward the door.

"With who?" he growled, following her
closely.

She shrugged, but inwardly she was smiling.
"Tom Connley."

“
You’re into
flyboys?”

She smirked. “What’s it to you?”

“
A sad cry for help?”
Shane stepped back as she shrugged on her coat, pulling her hair
free and closing it around her.

“
Jealous much?”

“
Of that blue-suiter?” he
scoffed, waving her away. “Anyone who fights sitting down doesn’t
have the balls God gave a hummingbird.”

She ignored him and swept past, but she
noticed with smug satisfaction that when Tom pulled his car out of
the parking lot, Shane was standing outside, watching them.

* * * *

She felt a little uncomfortable walking in
with Tom's arm around her shoulders. It was like a clock had been
turned back and she was in high school again, walking into the town
movie theater with her high school boyfriend. In fact, it felt like
her entire graduating class was there, sitting on the red
upholstered seats, talking, throwing popcorn at the blank screen
and munching on M&M's. They weren’t all there, of course, but
enough of them it made the whole experience feel surreal.

"Where do you want to sit?" Tom asked near
her ear.

Dusty spotted Suzanne and pointed to a seat
across the aisle. “How about there?”

“
Tom!” Suzanne waved as
they sat down. “Hey, Dusty!”

Dusty waved back, giving her a brief smile,
already regretting her impulsive acceptance of Tom’s invitation.
Chatting and mingling and having a good time were the last things
she wanted to be doing. It had been nearly a month since Nick’s
death, and still being out in the world felt strange. Routine kept
her sane, and being anywhere besides home, the cemetery, and the
Starlite made her feel the weight of her grief beyond words.

“
Come sit here!” Suzanne
pointed to the seats next to her, and although Dusty protested, Tom
led her across the aisle anyway.

“
Hey Dusty.” The guy next
to Suzanne gave her a smile and a wave and for a moment it didn’t
even register who he was—the Evan she knew hadn’t worn glasses in
high school, and she couldn’t remember if he’d been wearing them at
the funeral. She tried to picture him standing beside Shane and the
rest of the crew, but they all blended together in her mind, Shane
at the center.

“
Hi, Evan.” Dusty greeted
him, following Tom and stepping past to sit on Evan’s other side.
He looked so different to her, studious even, clean-cut, not the
young rebel she remembered palling around with Shane when they were
kids.

Suzanne leaned across him to grab and
squeeze Dusty’s hand. “I’m so glad he got you to come!”

Dusty rolled her eyes. “I think I’ve been
the victim of a conspiracy!”

“
Hey, we guys have to
stick together,” Evan agreed with a smile, slipping an arm over
Suzanne’s shoulder. “I had to drag Susie here kicking and
screaming, too.”

“
She looks pretty content
now,” Dusty remarked, noting how comfortable the two of them seemed
together. It was an odd pairing, she thought. They were total
opposites—or they had been, back in the day. Who knew what Evan was
doing now, who he even was anymore, she surmised. Everyone,
everything had changed so much… and still, some things, some
people, never did.

Suzanne flushed at Dusty’s comment. “I went
out to the cemetery the other day. The headstone is beautiful. But
who chose the wording?”

“
My stepmother.” Dusty
sighed. “Only she would think Nick needed any sort of mercy from
her version of God.”

“
I think Nick really
started connecting with her about the god-thing actually,” Suzanne
remarked.

Dusty stared at her, frowning. “What do you
mean?”

“
I just noticed him
talking about it more, questioning things. You know, about where we
go after we die, if there really is a god, that sort of thing.”
Suzanne sighed. “But that’s typical, you know, with someone in his
position.”

“
Living with Julia’s
version of hell will make anyone question the existence of God.”
Dusty rolled her eyes. “What do you mean, someone in his
position?”

“
Getting fired makes
anyone freak out about the future,” Evan remarked, taking Suzanne’s
hand and squeezing it. “Speaking of getting fired…”

“
Is there anyone in this
town who doesn’t know I was fired?” Dusty groaned and let herself
relax against Tom when he slipped a comforting arm around her
shoulder. “I forgot how fast news travels in this town.”

“
You can come work with me
and James,” Evan offered. “We started our own little company. Know
anything about computers?”

“
Just how to turn them on
and type, I’m afraid,” she said with an apologetic smile. “The only
thing I’m good at, apparently, is beating people up.”

“
Not quite as marketable
as being a programmer, I’m afraid,” Evan agreed with a
laugh.

“
Well, you could always be
the first female Ultimate Fighting Champion,” Tom
offered.

Dusty laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“
Give yourself some time
if you can,” Suzanne suggested. “It’s hard to get right back in the
saddle again, considering everything that’s happened.”

Dusty nodded, blinking back tears. It was
good to hear someone acknowledge it. Nick’s death, her career,
everything seemed to be falling apart at once, and she felt,
sometimes, as if she should be moving on, getting her life back in
some semblance of order. But she found she couldn’t, even if she’d
wanted to.

"So when are you leaving, Tom?" Evan leaned
forward to look across Dusty and ask the question..

"End of this week," Tom replied, glancing
sideways at Dusty.

"Oh, that’s right!" Suzanne said. "I'll send
you some chocolate chip cookies in the mail."

"Where are you going?" Dusty asked, looking
between them, puzzled.

"Where have
you
been, girl?" Evan
nudged her. "Tom’s heading back to Iraq to perform his Army
duties."

"Air Force," Tom corrected. Dusty stared at
him.

"What's the difference?" Evan shrugged.
"It's all military."

"Big difference," Suzanne replied with a
grin. "Air Force has better looking uniforms."

Tom laughed, shaking his head. The lights
went down then to a cacophony of appreciative shouts and
whistles.

"Are you okay?" Tom whispered, pulling her
closer. Dusty scooted down, putting her knees up on the seat in
front of her but she rested her head against Tom's shoulder, giving
him the only real answer he was looking for.

* * * *

"It's been a long time." Tom cut the engine.
They ‘d driven up to the bluff in Tom’s F-150, and now the truck
sat parked looking over the lights of Shadow Hills. It was a clear
night and there was a full moon.

"So, how long will you be in Iraq?" Dusty
turned to face him.

"Six months." He flipped the radio on. John
Mellencamp, singing about little pink houses, came through the
speakers.

"And you’ve already been on two tours?"

He nodded, fiddling with the radio.

"Will you miss me?" Tom reached out and
touched her hand. She clasped it and looked at him. “Think about
me?”

"You know I will," she told him. "We've been
friends for just about forever."

"We were more than that." Tom edged closer,
close enough she felt his breath against her face. Dusty's heart
rate quickened as she looked at him. She’d thought, way back in her
sophomore and junior year, that she might marry Tom one day. God,
that was a million years ago, and yet it felt very close now as
they sat side by side in the darkness.

"It's been a long time," she murmured.

"Why did we ever break up?" he asked. She
couldn’t remember with him so near, his hands cupping her face. She
shook her head as a reply.

"God, I’ve missed you," he whispered and he
kissed her.

His mouth was gentle and prodding, his hands
urgent, running down her sides, sliding her beneath him. His mouth
trailed over her cheek, her neck, lower, to the open V of her
blouse. She let her hands wander down his back.

His touch, his gentle prodding, his warm
breath, brought back memories of after-movie adventures like
this—make-out sessions that went farther and farther every time,
ending with Dusty telling him NO, and Tom getting out of the car,
taking a short walk, rearranging.

That was until his eighteenth birthday when
her jeans had joined his on the floor, and she had whispered "Yes,"
into his ear, and they had done it. He had told her he loved her,
and she was the best birthday present he’d ever had.

"God, I want you," he murmured, running a
hand up the inside of her thigh. Dusty felt him through the denim,
hard against her leg. He undid the button of her jeans, and the
zipper came down easily.

His hand was warm on her stomach and she
quivered. He’d been her first. Nick had asked her once if she and
Tom had ever...you know...and she’d blushed. She’d seen something
in his eyes, disapproval, maybe, or just disappointment. Dusty
remembered it and winced.

Tom moved his hand under the elastic of her
panties. His breathing was ragged and he took her hand, placing it
on his erection. Dusty cringed, jerking her hand away.

"Don't," she told him, her voice sounding
flat and dead. She pushed his hand away, zipping her jeans back up.
He groaned against her shoulder and she moved away from him,
sitting up. He lay there for a moment, cheek on the seat next to
her, eyes closed.

“
What is it?” he asked
finally, sliding over toward her. She let him put his arm around
her.

“
I miss him, Tommy.” She
put her head on his shoulder. “I keep having these
dreams…”

The talisman Sam had given her was still
around her neck. Since she’d started wearing it, she hadn’t
actually had anymore dreams.

Tommy looked at her. “What kind of
dreams?”

“
About Nick,” she said,
snuggling closer. “About the cemetery.”

Tom kissed her forehead and squeezed her to
him. “I think it’s pretty normal, don’t you? Having nightmares
after someone dies…”

“
I guess.” She sighed,
staring out over the lights below. She felt like crying.

“
You’re going to be okay,”
he said, kissing her temple, her cheek.

She swallowed hard. “No,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not.”

He kissed her mouth, then, his lips soft and
warm, murmuring, “Then let me make it okay.”

“
You can’t,” she
whispered, blinking back tears. “No one can.”

His face was full of such longing she could
barely stand it, but there was no way she could be with him again.
They couldn’t turn back the clock. She shook her head, feeling the
tears stinging her eyes start to fall.

“
I’m sorry,” she said, her
voice choked. “Please…just take me home.”

“
Are you sure?” He
breathed a ragged sigh.

She nodded, moving over to the passenger’s
side, watching him start the car.

"I...I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't," he said, starting the car and
backing it up. "Just don't...don't do that."

He sounded sad and she turned up the radio.
Tom flipped the headlights on, and Dusty stared out blankly at the
deserted road, thinking now the world would end.

* * * *

"Will you call me to say goodbye before you
leave?" She leaned down to see him through the open window. Tom
looked at her for a minute and then smiled.

"Maybe we could go out before then," he
suggested. "No strings attached."

"It sounds good." She smiled. "Thank you for
dragging me out tonight."

"Any time. It wasn't that bad, was it?" he
asked. She shook her head. "Take care. I'll call you."

"Okay." She stepped away from the car. "You
aren't mad at me?"

"What for?" he asked with a shrug. "I'll see
you."

Dusty watched him back out of the driveway
and drive down the street. She watched in the moonlight until his
tail lights were just pin points. It was the last time she ever saw
him.

* * * *

Breakfast had become silent and perfunctory
for Dusty. Her parents sat at opposite ends of the table and Dusty
sat between them. Julia cooked and then sat down to read a novel.
Her father ate his breakfast and read the Shadow Hills Journal.
Dusty would sometimes pick up the comics, and she always waited
until her father was through to skim the paper herself for any more
news. For the past month, Larkspur had been calm. After Scotty
Summers, there had been no more killings.