Chapter Seventeen – Dex

Charley stared at me over the top of her chocolate sundae. Slowly, she dipped the spoon into the sauce and ice-cream and put it in her mouth, the whole time keeping that devil-glare fixed on me.

If you’ve never had a seven-year-old stare at you as if you broke the head off her Barbie…Well, you’re a luckier person than I am.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Charley’s spoon clinked against the side of the sundae glass when she released it. Then, she sat back against the leather seats of the booth, arms folded across her chest.

I was in trouble.

With a kid.

Jesus.

“I asked Jamie to come to ice-cream with us.”

I knew where this was going.

“And she said no, because you made her mad.” She raised her light little eyebrows and gave me a pointed look. “And I’m sad because I wanted her to have ice-cream to make her happy again.”

“Ice-cream doesn’t make people happy, Char.”

“Neither do you, Uncle Dex.”

That was… unexpected.

“What does that mean?”

“I think you’re mean to Jamie.” She stuck out her lip. “You fight with her all the time.”

“Hey, she fights with me, too.”

Charley sighed and leaned forward. “But we aren’t talking about Jamie, Uncle Dex. We’re talking about you.”

She needed to stop listening to my sister.

“All right, I’ll bite, little one. How am I so mean to her?” I sat back and moved my bowl to the side so I could see her properly.

She shifted in her seat, resting her hands on the table like a newsreader.

I felt like I was back in high school and getting read the riot act from the principal…except this principal was about three-feet-tall.

“You’re mean to her all the time. You don’t even want her to work in the garage because I heard you say that to Pops. I don’t think you want to be friends with her.” Her eyes widened in earnest. “And I don’t like it when you’re mean to her, because I think she’s really nice. And, quite frankly, I’ve had enough of your banana split.”

Ahh. Words Pops said to Aunt Greta just last night at dinner…except it wasn’t banana split.

This kid picked way too much up.

Not to mention, she did kind of have a point.

“All right. I think you’re right. Not totally right, but a little bit right.” I pinched my finger and thumb together. “And I didn’t want her to work in the garage when she started, but now, she’s pretty good, and I’m okay with it.” Kind of.

She sighed. “Well, you could show it.”

Yep. I needed words with my sister.

“How would I do that?”

Charley pursed her lips into a fish-mouth shape and tapped them with her finger, staring off into the distance.

I waited.

“Mommy says that when you’re mean to someone, you should say sorry. So you should say sorry to Jamie for being mean to her.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Right now.”

I did a double-take. “Right now? As in right this second?”

Charley nodded firmly. “I want to make sure you say sorry properly.”

“Are you an expert in saying sorry?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault Faith keeps getting in my way and tripping over my feet at school.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself laughing. “All right, then, apology expert. Let’s go.”

She jumped out of her seat. “We need ice-cream first.”

“We do?”

“Duh. She didn’t get any because you were mean. So now you have to take her some.”

Sweet baby Jesus…

***

“Do you remember what to say?” Charley asked from the back seat.

“I’m capable of crafting a basic apology,” I replied. “Is that ice-cream still frozen?”

She nodded. “Mostly.”

Mostly was good enough.

This whole exercise would be a fiasco. I didn’t even know if she was home, for fuck’s sake. Or alone.

Fuck, if she wasn’t alone, I’d never live this down.

Thankfully, when I pulled up outside her house next to her Mustang, there were no other cars. Hopefully that meant she was alone.

“Remember,” I said to Charley as I opened the back door. “You’re just here for the ice-cream, okay?”

She nodded, holding the plastic sundae glass like it was made of pure gold.

I knocked on the front door.

“I got it!” came from inside.

I knew that voice, and it wasn’t Jamie’s.

Shit.

The door swung open, revealing Haley wearing gym clothes with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. She had on no make-up, but that didn’t stop her gaze being any less chilling.

“What,” she said slowly, “The hell do you want?”

Charley leaned against my leg.

“I’m just here to apologize,” I told her. “Is Jamie here?”

Haley folded her arms. “I doubt she wants to speak to you right now.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“She just printed your Facebook profile picture, taped it to a punching bag, and went to town on your face. I don’t care what your question is.”

That was brutal.

“Who is it?” Jamie walked into view of the front door. Like Haley, she had on no make-up, but her unruly hair hung in wet curls over her shoulders as she towel-dried it, and she was wearing her usual uniform of a tank top and denim shorts.

Unlike Haley, she didn’t look at me like I needed to drop dead on the spot.

“Oh. Do I need to come back to work? You could have called—”

“No, no. The garage is closed. I just wanted to talk to you.” I did my best to ignore Haley’s death stare.

Charley held out the sundae tub. “I brought you ice-cream. Because you were sad.”

Jamie smiled, throwing the towel to the side. “Do you know what? Ice-cream is just what I wanted right now, Charley. Thank you so much.” She nudged Haley out of the way and bent down to take the ice-cream.

Charley beamed with delight at her.

Jamie kissed her cheek, then stood back up, holding the ice-cream. “What did you want?”

“Actually,” I said, glancing at a still-glaring Haley, “Do you mind if I come back? I’d prefer to talk to you in private.”

Charley sighed.

Jamie glanced at Haley, too. “No, that’s fine. I have to take Haley home, so… do you want to come back in half an hour?”

“Sure. I’ll see you then. C’mon, Charley. Aunt Greta was baking this morning.” I steered her away from the door before she could start something I wasn’t prepared to finish in front of Haley.

When we were in the car, Charley groaned. “You didn’t do it.”

I met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “I promise I will when I come back. Her friend doesn’t like me much.”

“She did look a bit mean,” she agreed. “Is she going home now?”

“Yeah, she is.” I reversed and turned to go down the long driveway. “That’s why I’m coming back.”

“Do you promise you’ll apologize?”

“Cross my heart, kid. Cross my heart.”