Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On (6 page)

Savannah flashed her bus pass at the
driver and took off her backpack before plopping herself down at a window seat.
Was it ever early! The sun was barely in the sky. After her midnight coffee
with Eric and this morning’s early rise, would she even be able to stay awake
for Chris’ band? As she watched the Laundromat owner picking up litter outside
her store, Savannah pictured Chris’ scruffy exterior. She was attracted to him,
right? His orange dreads and that weird beard certainly set him apart from
everyone else in her program, but did she find him handsome? Alluring? Cute,
even?

Well, whatever. Looks weren’t
everything…though, she had a nagging suspicion she did find him cute not two
days ago. Chris was a cool guy—he had that going for him, at least. Wait…why
was he cool, again? What were these cool qualities she and Stacy had always
agreed her possessed? Was it really just the dreads? Or was it the fact that he
played in a band? Couldn’t be that—Savannah wasn’t even all that big on the
garage bands playing their asses off in the crowded bars. Why did she need to
go to a Kingsley’s? Hell, she didn’t even drink! She’d so been looking forward
to this date…and why? So she could wear an old Sailor Moon T-shirt to impress a
guy who was probably no better than a rebellious trust fund brat?

Savannah took another piece of gum
from the pack and chewed in contemplation.

* * * *

When Savannah arrived home to change
for her date, Stacy and her dad were nowhere to be found. She headed straight
for her bedroom, where she felt somewhat ambivalent about
not
walking in
on a naked Eric—it would have leant some excitement to a dry day—and dropped
her backpack on the floor. Should she shower? Yes, she should shower. Aside
from the fact that she smelled like stank, it would give Eric an opportunity to
walk in on her naked, if he should so happen to arrive home as she stood in the
unlocked bathroom.

By the time she’d showered and primped
and searched all over the damn place for that Sailor Moon T-shirt without ever
finding it, Eric and Stacy still hadn’t arrived home. Savannah settled on her
favourite white tank and jeans, and then stood in front of the mirror in
evaluation mode. She looked pretty good, but what difference did it make?
Look
good for Chris? Who cares?
He wouldn’t give a damn if he looked good for
her. He probably wouldn’t even remember he’d invited her.

Why had she liked this guy?

Better yet, why didn’t she like him
anymore?

Savannah didn’t let her mind hover
over that question too long. She knew the answer, of course, but she wasn’t too
keen on admitting it to herself. The only way to get over someone was to get
under someone, and she’d spent last night with Stacy’s dad snuggling against
her thigh.

Glancing at the time on the microwave,
Savannah decided to make a quick pita wrap before heading off to an evening of
loud music and ginger ale. Before she’d even pulled the lettuce from the fridge,
the front door opened and a smiling Eric pounced inside. “Savannah!” he cried,
kicking his shoes off before tossing a few shopping bags on the couch. “Great!
I’m glad you’re home. Look what I bought!”

As Eric tore into his shopping bags,
Savannah waited for the door to open again. It didn’t. “Where’s Stacy?”

He looked to the front door and then
to Stacy’s bedroom door before shaking his head. “Oh, right. She said she was
helping some guy set up for a gig.”

Savannah nearly dropped the
mayonnaise. “Some guy? What guy? Who guy?”

Scratching his shoulder, Eric furled
his brow like the name wasn’t important. “I don’t know. Chris, I think. His
band’s playing at that pub Stace took me to last night. She said you always
spent Saturday nights at home and you wouldn’t mind the company.”

“What?” She didn’t want Eric to feel
insulted by her off-the-handle insanity, but, “What? She’s with Chris? When
did…what the hell?”

Eric appeared increasingly confused as
she stammered nonsense. Leaning into the back of the sofa, he pulled a box set
out of his shopping bag. In absolute earnest he said, “Look, I bought us a
whole collection of Lucy videos to watch. I thought we could do a marathon, of
sorts. Stacy said you always spend your Saturday nights at home anyway…”

It embarrassed Savannah that he knew
such a thing about her. “But I told her Chris asked me to his gig…I told her I
had plans…”

Moving nothing but his lips, Eric
said, “And I’ve gone and ruined them.”

His eyes shone such a charming shade
of sky blue, Savannah couldn’t but love him. “No,” she said, shaking her head.
In her bare feet, she rushed from the tiled kitchen into the carpeted living
room. She had to stop herself from throwing her arms around Stacy’s dad and
pressing her chest flush to his. Instead, she grabbed the cuffs of his white
shirt and squeezed his wrists. The moment she touched him, an image flashed
through her mind of the morning’s…well…flash. She felt her eyes grow so large
she feared they’d pop out of their sockets like in cartoons.

Releasing his wrists, she took a step
back and stared at his striped socks. They made her smile. “No, it’s not your
fault. And a Lucy marathon sounds great, but this guy invited me…I mean, I told
him I would come to see his band.” Her heart fluttered as she looked up into Eric’s
despairing eyes. “Hey, wanna come with?”

“Oh.” He tossed his head back and
smiled at the offer. “It’ll be all young people.”

Savannah gave him a teasing poke in
the side. “From what Stacy’s been telling me, it sounds like you’ve been
getting along very well with young people.” She tried to wink, but Savannah’s
attempted winks always looked like a medical condition.

“Do you have something in your eye?”
Eric asked.

With a chuckle, she swept into the
kitchen and put the makings of her wrap back in the fridge. “I was going to eat
before heading out, but do you want to grab a bite at the pub instead?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eric said with a big
smile. “Are you sure you won’t feel embarrassed, eating with a decrepit old
man?”

Savannah rolled her eyes as she
grabbed her purse. “Whatever!” Half the girls on campus would be jealous to see
her sharing a meal with Eric. She estimated only fifteen percent would envy
Stacy acting as roadie for stupid crunchy-granola dreadlock-head. 

“Well, thanks for taking me out on the
town,” Eric said as he slipped on his shoes. “I really need this.”

Sticking her keys in the door,
Savannah let an impish grin bleed across her lips. “Yeah, I know what you
mean.”

Chapter Seven

It was a bit of a let-down to find the
place wasn’t packed. Sure, there were lots of people at the pub, but no more
than any other Saturday night. Despite Savannah’s mixed feelings toward Chris,
she wanted his gig to go well.

The stage was set but Chris’ band
hadn’t taken it yet when the hostess in the short plaid skirt and clunky black
boots showed them to a booth along the side wall. There were tables closer to
the stage, but Savannah wasn’t sure she wanted Chris to see her.
Why?
she wondered. Was it simply that she didn’t want Chris to know she’d shown up
after he went and invited Stacy to be little miss roadie for his band? Or did
Savannah not want Chris to see her with Eric? She wasn’t sure yet. In fact,
ever since Eric had come to stay, Savannah felt like her life had gone all
topsy-turvy. Everything she’d wanted before, she didn’t want now, and now she
wanted…new things…like…

“Do you know what you want?”

Gobsmacked, Savannah looked up at
Eric. “Huh? Do I…what?”

“Stace and I had fish and chips here
yesterday,” he said without looking up from the menu. “It was a good plate of
food, but I don’t feel like the same thing two days in a row.”

“Oh, right. I guess not.” Savannah’s
menu rested in front of her in all its filthy, laminated glory. She picked it
up, avoiding the blob of dried ketchup covering the “E” in “Entrees.” Though
she stared intently, she didn’t see the words on the page. She only saw Eric,
reading the bill of fare like it was a sacred tome.

Resting his elbow on the table and his
head in his hand, Eric set down his menu and smiled at Savannah. “So, what do
you think? Any recommendations?”

He looked like a child, striking that
pose. She almost wanted to play the mommy and tell him to get his elbows off
the table. “Sometimes I get the salmon wrap,” she told him. Sometimes she just
ordered a big plate of fries, too, and drenched them in malt vinegar, but a
distinguished man like Eric would never be impressed by a meal like that. Maybe
they should have gone somewhere else to eat, and then come to the pub later on.

“I was looking at that, actually.”

His approval, such as it was, made her
insides tingle. “Yeah, it’s really good. They serve the salmon on a bed of
nappa cabbage and slather it with basil mayo, and instead of, like, a normal
tortilla wrap, they use naan.”

Eric raised his eyebrows. He seemed
impressed. “Sounds like dinner! I’ll go with the salmon wrap.”

Savannah felt a blush coming on, and
she wasn’t exactly sure why. “Yeah, I think I’ll get the same. I’ve kind of
talked myself into it.”

When the less-than-bubbly waitress
came around, Eric ordered a salmon wrap for himself and another “for the lady.”
That made Savannah smile so widely her very lips embarrassed her. She’d never
been “the lady” before.

“Anything to drink?” their pale and
pierced waitress asked.

“Oh, that’s right,” Eric laughed. “I’m
getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Ordering the meal before drinks! I’ll have a
glass of the house white. Should we make that two, Savannah?”

At the mere mention of her name,
Savannah’s heart felt expansive and full. “No, that’s okay. I actually don’t
drink.” Setting her hand across her warm chest, she looked to the waitress.
“Ginger ale’s good for me.”

Eric gazed from the waitress to
Savannah with an infusion of pity and compassion. “I’m sorry,” he said in a
tone that seemed way too heartfelt for the circumstance. “I didn’t know that
about you. In that case, I’ll just have a ginger ale too.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,”
Savannah assured him. He obviously thought she was a recovering alcoholic or
religious fanatic or something. “It’s really not a big deal. Have a glass of
wine!”

“No, no, no,” he said. “After the last
two nights, my liver could probably use a break!”

Painfully aware that the waitress was
staring daggers at them for wasting her time, Savannah tried not to giggle.
“Well, you’re probably right about your liver.” She sent a smile across the
table. It was too flirtatious for the waitress not to see, but Savannah was
starting to care less and less. “But, seriously, get whatever you like. Don’t
keep yourself from drinking on my account.”

Eric watched the waitress place their
menus one top of the other on the table, and then scoop them up against her
chest. He pursed his lips as if in deep contemplation, and then thumped a
decisive fist against the tabletop. “I’ll have a ginger ale, please.”

Rolling her eyes in a not-so-subtle
manner, much enhanced by her not-so-subtle eye shadow, the waitress said, “Two
ginger ales and two salmon wraps. ‘Kay. No problem.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said once she’d
gone. “I didn’t realize you’re a teetotaler. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

Savannah shook her head as
emphatically as she could without giving herself whiplash. “No, don’t be
silly.”

“I don’t just mean tonight,” he went
on. “I mean coming home drunk last night, and drinking all Stacy’s rum the
night before…”

“You actually didn’t seem all that
wasted last night,” she assured him. “And the night before…well, I guess I
didn’t see you until the morning-after hangover. Anyway, it’s not like I’m
sitting here judging people who drink. I’m at a pub, aren’t I?”

Eric chuckled, offering an encouraging
nod.

“People always seem to think there’s
some serious reason why I don’t drink. There really isn’t.” Savannah took a
sugar packet from the holder on the table, shook it against her palm, and then
pushed it back in. “I’ve had a drink or two in my life, but I never liked the
way drinking made me feel—all wobbly and…I don’t know…like I couldn’t think
straight. I didn’t like that feeling, and I figured, why do something just
because everybody else does? Or just because everybody else thinks it’s weird
not to? You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Eric
confirmed as the waitress plonked their non-alcoholic beverages down on the
table. She left before they could even say thank you. “Not big on service here,
are they?”

Savannah shrugged. “You’re just used
to wining and dining among sophisticates. This is how we insignificant people
live.” With a teasing smile, she wiggled her eyebrows as she sipped her ginger
ale.

“Wicked girl.” Reaching across the
table, Eric swatted her ear and laughed. “Respect your elders, young lady!”

Narrowly avoiding her glass, Savannah
swatted him in turn. The moment her fingers touched his soft blond hair, she
was transported to the previous night, falling asleep while petting him like a
puppy. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to know the cocky smile had fallen
from her face. It was obvious from the way he was looking at her—like, if there
hadn’t been a table between them, he would have swept her into his arms and
kissed her until her clothes fell off.