The Big Girl's Guide to Buying Lingerie

12. THE ANGRY AMERICAN

Rowdy barely kept his tongue between his teeth on the twenty minute drive back to Jade's place and by the time he came to a screeching halt beside her mailbox his jaw ached.

She climbed out and stood there for a minute or two, fiddling with the sunglasses in her hand while Rowdy sat hunched over the steering wheel, drumming his fingers on the dash and waiting for her to shut the door.

“Robbie...Rowdy, I’m sorry,” she whispered shakily.  “I didn’t—”

“So am I.”  He didn’t want to hear whatever she had to say.  She was complicated, high-maintenance and a snob to boot.  His initial impression of Jade had been correct.  

Skye, the fun loving, down-to-earth girl he’d fallen for was nowhere to be seen.  Didn’t exist.  Had been a figment of his imagination.  Just as he’d suspected all along.

And he didn’t need Jade's kind of trouble.  His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his jaw clenched again.

She gave a little nod, ducked her head and slammed the door.  He hadn’t missed the tears in her eyes, but he gritted his teeth and watched her go.  The gentleman in him wouldn’t allow him to leave until she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.  Then he gunned it, weaving his way down smooth cement streets and escaped her tidy, little cookie cutter community. 

If she couldn’t accept Betti, who was the sweetest, most loyal woman in the word, she’d never accept him. 

Not if she knew the truth.

Rowdy spent the rest of the afternoon working in his yard, just staying busy so he didn’t think too hard about Skye or his error in judgement.  Dressed in an old pair of cut-offs, he cut, pruned and bagged his way around the back yard, despite the intense heat.  He felt as if a drop of water would sizzle on his bare back, it was so unbearably hot.

The sprinkler was walking a slow path around the back yard when Tim showed up.  Rowdy sat on the back porch steps sipping a beer, strumming his old six-string guitar--the one he’d learned to play on--and contemplating a long and very cold shower.

“Was wondering where the hell you ran off to.  Thought maybe you and Miss Cutie Pie found something better to do.”

“Miss Cutie Pie?”  Rowdy stopped picking out notes and scowled up at Tim.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”  Tim disappeared inside the house and returned with a cold beer in his hands.

“She’s a snob,” Rowdy snarled, frowning at his freshly cut grass for no reason.  “If she thinks Betti’s blatant, what the hell would she say about my sister, the felon?” he reasoned out loud.  “I just don’t need the headache.”

“Blatant...huh.”

They sat in silence for awhile and, from inside the house, Montgomery Gentry sang about a cold one coming on.

“Have you written Charlene?” Tim quietly asked from beside him. 

“Huh?  What does that have to do with Jade?”  Talk about taking a day from bad to shitty.

“You said Jade wouldn’t understand about Charlene, and Charlene said she hadn’t heard from you.”

“I just don’t see the point.”

“She’s your sister.  That’s the point.”

“All she does is preach!”  Rowdy thought of the fistfuls of letters he continually found all over the house.

“You could at least humor her.  It’s not like she has a lot to do in there, Rowdy.  If that’s what keeps her spirits up, then more power to her.”