Chapter Seven
The acre of the salvage yard his dad wanted them to clear made him sick to his stomach. The piles of complete junk made Garret wish he’d never agreed to help. Dad and Uncle Rob had bought the place from the city after the previous owner abandoned it. Though the intended purpose of the yard was auto salvaging, a ton of junk and trash had been dumped there, too. People still drove by at night to drop stuff that was too big to put out with the trash. The team had already had morning practice, and they needed to be back at school by seven for what would be their second practice of the day and the last before their game tomorrow night.
Elliot frowned at the mess in front of him. “So, what are we supposed to be doing?”
“Clearing this acre of land.”
He nodded. “Do you have a bulldozer?”
“Um, no. We have to sift through all of the junk and save anything we can use or sell.”
“How many months do we have to do this?”
Garret shook his head. “Langley and Weathers are coming, and they’re supposed to bring reinforcements.”
“Like the National Guard?”
He gave Elliot the evil eye. “We can use the tractor to pile up the metal and get the trash into the dumpsters. It won’t be so bad.”
No, it was going to be worse than Elliot could possibly imagine, and Garret had no idea how his father had thought a small group of teenagers would be able to do this in a day. Even if the entire team was here…wait.
“Do me a favor and send a group text to the team and tell everybody to get their butts over here.” They couldn’t afford to pay the whole team, but if they donated the salvageable stuff to a charity, everybody could get community service hours.
“What do I say when they ask why?”
“Because their captain said it’s mandatory.”
“Umm, I don’t think—”
“I didn’t ask you to think. Just send the message. Tell them they’ll get community service hours.” And maybe food, if he could arrange it. Isabelle probably had a connection with someone in town. Or her father had to have one. He wasn’t quite ready to agree to dance with her, but maybe if he gradually introduced her to his friends, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to be seen with her or do a favor for her.
“Just trust me. I’ll be right back.” Garret walked far enough away that Elliot couldn’t hear him. Even though he knew about the dance lessons, he didn’t want him or his dad to know that he and Isabelle were becoming friends. At least he thought they were. As tempting as it was to cop out and send a text, he manned up and hit call instead.
She answered on the first ring. “Garret?”
“Yeah. Are you busy?”
“That depends on what you want.”
“I need your help. I’ve got the guys from the football team coming to the salvage yard to help clear some ground. We’re going to donate everything to a charity, so nobody’s getting paid.”
“Are you asking me to come work there?”
“No, of course not. I was wondering if you might know someone who’d give us a big discount on lunch.”
“Wow. You’re already using me for my father’s connections. I figured it would be at least a little bit longer before you tried to take advantage of me.”
A wave of guilt swept through him. He hadn’t thought his plan through. People probably tried to get favors from her all the time.
“I’m sorry if I insulted you, but I’ve got the entire team coming to work, and I really need a way to feed them, and you were the first person I thought of who might be able help. I’m desperate here.”
“Obviously, or you never would’ve called me. How many people are we talking about?”
“Maybe about twenty-five.” If everybody showed up, they could eat enough to feed a hundred normal guys, but they’d just have to suck it up. Free food was free food.
“When do you need it delivered?”
“You don’t have to get it yourself. I can do it, or send one of the guys to pick it up. I just hoped you’d be able to tell me if there was a place that might give me a discount.”
“Just tell me when you need it, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Around eleven thirty would be great.”
“Okay. I’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“And I think you know exactly how to repay your debt.”
Click. She hung up on him. Now she expected him to agree to dance with her, but he’d worry about that later. It was time for him to break the news to his original crew that they weren’t going to get paid, and tell his dad he had to use the money he was going to pay them with to buy lunch.
…
An hour and a half later, Garret was wishing he’d never been born. It was hotter than Dante’s sixth circle of hell, his dad was mad about having to pony up money for lunch despite the fact that he would’ve had to pay the workers otherwise, and the guys who’d expected to get paid were mad, though of course they wouldn’t complain to him. Not after they’d watched how his father tore into him. Luckily, it was before the rest of the team had arrived, so at least most of his teammates had been spared the drama. It was his father’s own fault for thinking a handful of guys could clear an acre of trash in one day.
“Remember, everybody, we’re looking for anything we can salvage and moving it into the warehouse. After lunch, we’ll start sorting the recycling from the trash and get the rest of this crap moved.” He wasn’t at all sure they’d be able to finish in one day, but they’d do their best.
To avoid disaster, Garret walked around the field, making sure anything usable was put aside. “Make sure those sheets of plywood get put into the warehouse.”
He’d also discovered a set of bedroom furniture that only needed a good cleaning and a few minor repairs to be usable, and there was a ton of metal that could be recycled. Since all of his teammates were working their asses off for a few service hours, he was determined to convince his father to put part of the money he got from the recycling into the team travel fund. If they made the playoffs, and he sure hoped they did, they’d have to go long distances on the bus and stay overnight to play the other teams.
Ramirez, their center, lifted a rusty metal file cabinet and chucked it onto the recycling pile, then turned to glare at Garret. His mom had made a bunch of lemonade and brought it over, but if lunch didn’t arrive soon, he’d be in deep trouble with the team. He’d expected Isabelle to call and tell him what they owed. A quick glance at his phone showed that he hadn’t missed any calls. He tapped the screen to call her.
“Impatient, aren’t you?”
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he heard her voice. “I’ve got twenty-five hungry guys here. My butt is on the line.”
“Then it’s a good thing your food is on the way.”
“I told you there’s no need for you to deliver it yourself.”
“I’m not. The restaurant wanted to do it. They should be there any minute.”
“O-k-a-y.”
“It’s good publicity for them. I might have mentioned that the football team was doing some community service over at the salvage yard.”
“Might have?” He could almost hear her smile over the phone.
“Never give a definitive answer if you don’t have to.”
“That something you learned from your dad?”
“Of course. And you’re welcome.”
Then she hung up on him again. He’d have to come up with some way to thank her that didn’t involve him embarrassing himself on a stage. Maybe a book on phone etiquette.
“Is that lunch? It’s about time,” Ramirez said.
Garret whipped around. Sure enough, a guy who looked vaguely familiar was walking toward them, talking to his dad, and Uncle Rob followed behind them, carrying a bunch of bags from the Chicken Fried Everything Diner in town. They’d already set up a folding table, and his mom appeared with a tablecloth and tossed it onto the dirty, dented surface, then dropped a huge jug of hand sanitizer on top of it, which was likely to go unused. She took the food out of the bags and lined it up across the table. They’d packed giant boxes of fried chicken fingers, vats of coleslaw and potato salad, and gallons of sweet tea. A couple of the guys were already at the table with plates in their hands.
His mom lifted up the jug. “Don’t forget the hand sanitizer, boys.”
Coming to his senses, he rushed over and pulled out his wallet. “What do I owe you for the food?”
The Chicken Fried guy raised his hands. “Nothing. It’s compliments of the diner.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. That wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d asked for Isabelle’s help. “Thank you. That’s generous of you, but I’m prepared to pay for the food for the team.”
“Senator Oster is one of our biggest supporters. Always uses us to cater his local events. We’re happy to help the team and support community service.”
“Thanks.”
That explained it. Isabelle must’ve told them about the community service to get them to do it for free. He glanced around and several members of his team were staring at him. They’d all heard the chicken guy mention the senator, and it wouldn’t be long before they started asking about it. Probably as soon as they finished stuffing their faces.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. For once, it was a welcome distraction. “Excuse me.” He pulled it out. “Harley Quinn” lit up on the screen.
“Hey,” he said, then turned and walked away from the table, which was surrounded with hungry guys filling their plates with mounds of food.
“Incoming! I had to warn you.”
He sighed. This day needed to end, and it was barely lunch time. “About what?”
“My dad’s assistant thought it would be a good opportunity for the diner and football team to get some publicity.”
“And? There has to be more, or you wouldn’t have called.”
“Well…”
Was her voice shaking?
“I’m sorry, but a reporter from KMXP is on the way there.”
His brain stopped functioning for a second. “You’re joking, right?”
“No. The story will probably be more about my dad supporting the football team than you guys doing community service, but either way, it’ll be on the news tonight.”
A movement from the parking lot caught his eye. Sure enough, it was a news van.
“Garret?”
“What?” That came out more harshly than he intended.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to be about him, but somehow everything always ends up that way.”
“It’s all right. I’m the one who asked you to use his connections. The guys will probably love it.” His dad was moving quickly toward him. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later and let you know how it went.”
“Garret! What’s going on?” His father lowered his voice when he got closer. “Why is there a reporter here? You know we’re not up to code in some areas.”
Make that a lot of areas. They’d already been cited once, but the town was giving them a break, since no one else had wanted to take on cleaning up and running the junkyard. “I asked a friend to help us get food donated, and Senator Oster’s staff somehow got involved.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’ll be good publicity. Maybe more people will come out here after this.”
Dad ran his fingers though his hair. “Yeah, but your friends are helping us for free, and the restaurant donated all that food. That’s gonna make us look bad.”
“Not if you donate something. Give the football team your proceeds from all the stuff we sell and recycle from today.”
He frowned. “I’ll give them fifty percent.”
“All right. Mention that on the air and remind everyone to come out and hunt for hidden treasure here.” Garret patted him on the back. “You need to get ready to be on television.”
Now all he had to do was hope that Coach wouldn’t hear about this, since they’d be at practice when the story aired on KMXP.
…
Garret breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Isabelle teaching a bunch of little girls in Studio Three. He didn’t have much time before he needed to be at practice, but he had to thank her for the lunch and the news coverage. Since she couldn’t see him through the one-way window, he took a chance that she’d finish before he had to leave. The guys had been so excited to be featured on the news they forgot to ask him why her dad was involved. It wasn’t often Brinson was the subject of a positive story. Usually it was featured because of a break in or domestic violence.
Isabelle popped her head out of the studio. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I came to thank you. Today was awesome. The guys on the team were really excited about the news coverage.”
She grinned. “You’re welcome.”
He put his hands in his pockets, suddenly nervous now that he’d made a decision. “I also wanted to tell you that…that I’ll dance with you.”
She leaped at him, and he caught her by reflex.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her warm breath slid across his neck and a thrill shot through him. The scent of warm honeysuckle surrounded him, and he spent a few seconds just enjoying the feel of her before he put her down. There was more to be said.
“I owe you for helping me improve my game, and for today, but I still have some conditions.”
She grabbed his hand and led him into the now empty studio, then closed the door. “What are they?”
“I’ll do it as long as no one finds out I was ever here and no one I know shows up at the performance.”
“But I can’t guarantee—”
“I wasn’t finished. And you have to give my sister free ballet lessons.”
“Are we talking private lessons or group lessons?”
He frowned. “I didn’t ask. Probably group lessons, since you’re pretty terrifying one-on-one.”
“Do you have any more demands, my liege?”
“There is one more little thing.”
She raised her brows and waited.
“To protect myself just in case someone sees me here, you’re going to have to pretend we’re dating.”
Her mouth dropped open. “This is a joke, right? Who’s gonna believe that Mr. Hotshot is dating me?”
Whoa. She might be all crankypants and Goth at school, but she lived in the biggest house in town and was the daughter of two former Hollywood actors. Pretty much everyone envied her. How could she not know that?
“Mr. Hotshot? That’s interesting coming from Ms. Hollywood von Crankypants.”
Her face paled. “Is that what people call me?”
He stiffened. “Geez, no. I just made it up to counter your Mr. Hotshot comment.”
“I’m sorry to ruin your brilliant plan, but no one is going to believe that we’re dating. Especially when we’ve never been seen together before.”
She had a point. “Fine. We’ll do it gradually. They’ll see you at the football game tomorrow and wonder about it. Then we can be seen in the halls together when school starts, and things can heat up from there. Then, if you turn out to be wrong and someone finds out about the dancing, it’ll still make me look good, stepping up to help my girlfriend in her time of need.”
She coughed. “Sorry, I just threw up a little in my mouth.”
He laughed. She could give as good as she got. “So do you agree to our new arrangement?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Sure you do. You can find someone else to blackmail.”
“All right, but don’t come crying to me when this backfires on you.”
They locked gazes for a few moments, then he nodded his chin at her. “I’m not worried.”
“Just in case, I think we should make some rules for our fake relationship.”
“Like what?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure, but we need to get our stories straight if we want people to believe we’re together. Can we date other people?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to be that guy. We’re exclusive for now.”
“Okay. How did we hook up?”
“My sister’s taking ballet class with you. Next.”
“PDA at school?”
This was getting way more complicated than he expected. “We can hold hands in the halls, but I’m not into being entertainment for everybody else.”
“Should we promise to keep the fake relationship going until after the fall production?”
He nodded. “Either of us can break it off after that.” It was kind of crazy how much the thought of her dating someone else bothered him, especially since she’d tried to blackmail him.
“So we both agree. Should we shake on it?” She held her hand out and he took it.
What have I just gotten myself into?