Magic Hands Read online

  Not even a message. Creep.” She shoved the phone back.

  Cort was confused. He knew Ty had a job, had gone from footbal team to basketbal team and was throat-deep in senior stuff. “He’s got practice after school, Bree.”

  He formed her last nail and she leaned over and hissed,

  “No matter what, I should come first.”

  “You go girl,” Shaylee piped. Her toenails were being filed. “Careful there,” she told Jasmine.

  Cort looked from Shaylee to Bree. “But the guy doesn’t even know—”

  “—Exactly,” Bree said, tossing her hair back and looking her nails over. She smiled sweet as corn syrup. “They look awesome, Cortie. You’re amazing.”

  He almost rol ed his eyes, too irritated with her to enjoy the compliment. He took her fingers. “I’m not done yet.” He began to sand the surfaces.

  “Al I’m saying,” he started, “is give the guy a chance. He can’t help that he’s buried.”

  “And al I’m saying,” Bree’s tone mimicked his, “Is that I should matter more or it’s over.”

  “For sure.” Megan held up one foot, wiggled red-painted toes. “There’s tons more cocks in the barn.”

  Bree and Shaylee nodded. “Like Chad or Ben.”

  “Or John,” Megan added. “Wait, he’s with Jennifer now, isn’t he?”

  Cort nodded. “Since the play.”

  “That’s gay,” Bree said. “I wanted John.” Shaylee jangled her bracelets before running her hands through her hair, fluffing it. “Oh wel , Chad and Ben are plenty hot. I’m going for it if Derek doesn’t ask me.”

  “Who you taking, Cort?” Bree smiled her white teeth deceptively clean and pure looking.

  He shrugged but it was Rachel’s face that flashed in his mind. He wanted to ask her. But after hearing these girls talk like dogs in a junk yard, he wasn’t going to tel them anything. “I don’t know yet.”

  Bree leaned close. “You could ask me. I may not be going with Ty.”

  “Maybe, yeah.” He didn’t want to hurt her feelings—if she had any. He kept his eyes on his fingertips, feeling the smoothness of Bree’s nails. “You want color or white-tips?”

  “That feels good, Cortie.” Immediately he stopped, and set up to paint. “It’s so cool that you do nails,” Bree cooed.

  “You’re, like, the coolest guy ever, touching girls and stuff.”

  “Yeah,” Megan agreed. “The coolest.”

  Cort wanted to laugh. He had no idea that it was al about strategy, gossip and guys. Who was hot, who was an idiot. He didn’t know what he thought girls were about. He’d never thought about life from a girl’s perspective.

  After he’d done al three of the girls’ nails, taken their twenty-eight dol ars apiece and their five dol ars each in tips, he felt like he needed to fal into one of those pedicure chairs and sleep. His brain buzzed with the high-pitch of girly chitchat, Miss Chachi’s enthusiasm for their very first sale, and the zipping hum of the sander.

  THREE

  Cort walked into his house and let out a sigh. Being home had never felt so good. The spicy scent in the air instantly comforted him. He’d often seen his mom look the way he felt—dead to the world tired—and for the first time he understood what it was like for her to go to work al day.

  He dropped his backpack to the floor, peeled out of his coat and plopped on the soft linen-white couch in the living room. He wasn’t al owed to set foot in the museum-quality room his mom had decorated and set aside only for guests, but he was the only one home so he took advantage and it felt wickedly good.

  Until he heard somebody clear their throat.

  His sister, Lizzie, was smiling through narrowed eyes.

  “Get lost,” he told her and shut his eyes.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’l just tel Mom that her only son, who’s old enough to know better, was sprawled on her favorite couch when she gets home in three seconds because she just cal ed me on her cel phone and told me to open the garage door for her.”

  Cort jumped up. “You would.” He straightened the pil ows, fluffed the couch. “Garage door broken again?”

  “Uh-huh.” Lizzie fol owed him into the kitchen like an annoying gnat. She sniffed. “What is that smel ?”

  Cort stopped and lifted his arm pit.

  “Not that,” Lizzie said, coming around to face him.

  She stepped close for another whiff before putting amicable distance between them again. “Like…nail polish.”

  Afraid his face would give him away, Cort went to the refrigerator and opened it. “Your nose needs an overhaul.”

  “No, that’s definitely nail polish.”

  Seeing carrots and celery, surrounded by apples, oranges and bananas, he shut the door with a groan. He needed real food, chips, salsa, bean dip and cheese. “There’s nothing to eat.”

  “Why do you stink of acetone?”

  “Why don’t you stick your head in a hole?” He rummaged through the cupboards. His mother breezed in wearing her usual navy suit, navy hose and navy shoes. Her briefcase was in one hand, her cel phone in the other, pressed to her ear.

  “Yes, Celia. Fine. We’l talk tomorrow.” She clicked off the phone and let out a sigh as she set her briefcase on the counter. Having caught Cort’s food search she said, “Don’t bother. I got rid of everything unhealthy.”

  Cort shut the last cupboard and leaned his brow against it with a loud sigh.

  “What kind of mother would I be if I let my children feed themselves garbage?” she reiterated. “I might as wel pul up the trash tote and plunk you both down in front of it for dinner.”

  Cort turned, folded his arms. His mother was on another one of her jags. This time it involved food—what not to eat.

  Rarely had her various jags affected him. There was the time when she made them al rise at four in the morning just to go running together as a family – something about early exercise and family togetherness. That lasted until winter set in and her mascara-covered lashes had frozen like spider legs.

  And the time she insisted they buy a hot tub for therapeutic reasons. Some study she’d read said hot water cleansed the spirit as wel as the body.

  That had been cool, with extra benefits Cort snuck with his then-girlfriend. Until his mother started raising the heat to blistering. If hot was good, hotter was better. Lizzie had scorched her butt one day, sneaking in a dip with friends and the hot tub was gone a day later—legal reasons, his mother had stated.

  She was a lawyer, she’d know.

  “There’s some lemon tofu pie in the bottom drawer. It’s crustless but you’d never know it.” She gestured with her head and picked up her briefcase, never happy when anything cluttered her kitchen counter, not even her own stuff. “I’m going to change then I’l be down to make dinner. What is that smel ?” She walked and sniffed until her nose led her to Cort. “Have you showered today?”

  “Of course, Mom.”

  “Is this some new cologne you’re trying? The latest thing?”

  “I—no. It’s not.”

  She looked him up and down before turning with her briefcase. Taking off her high heels, she carried them in her other hand and she headed toward the door. “We’l get to the bottom of the way you smel later.”

  After she’d gone, Lizzie rol ed her eyes. “I wonder what’s for dinner? Tofu casserole?”

  “We know tofu pie is for dessert,” Cort mumbled.

  “How long do you think she’l be on this one?” Lizzie joined him and the two of them stared blankly into the refrigerator.

  “Let’s go grab some burgers and fries,” Cort whispered.

  Cort shut his locker and looked down crowded senior hal for Rachel. Her dark hair was easy to spot, long and shimmery against her back. She was at her locker with her blond bomb friends, Ticia and Jennifer. The girls laughed. It wasn’t a malicious laugh; Cort had never seen Rachel be the kind of girl that Bree, Megan and Shaylee had been that day in the salon. There was something differ
ent about Rachel, something that set her and her friends in an exclusivity that enticed.

  He had yet to figure out his plan to show her he wasn’t just another idiot jock with a great bod, better face and too much talent. The dance was coming up. Maybe he’d ask her and spend the night impressing her.

  “Is it true?” The low whisper caused Cort to jump. One of his buddies, Eric, stood with Chad and Ben, his other friends. Eric’s sky-blue eyes lit with mischief. His curly blonde hair looked like he’d forgotten to do anything but shake it out after his shower.

  “Is what true?” Cort started down the hal toward Rachel and the girls and the guys fol owed.

  “That you’re working at that nail place?”

  Cort couldn’t keep his face from heating, but he kept his walk steady and cool. “Yeah, so?”

  Eric pul ed him to a stop. The guys stared at him. “Are you serious, man?”

  “It was the only place I could find a job, dude.” Cort started walking again, noticing that Rachel and Ticia were heading to class.

  “But it’s, like, a nail salon,” Ben said.

  “Yeah,” Chad added. “Do they real y do nails there?”

  Cort snorted. “’Course they do nails.”

  The guys started laughing, elbowing each other and Cort instantly felt defensive and stopped. “What?”

  After his laugh trickled, Eric said, “So what do you do?

  Take out the trash?”

  “Sweep the floor?” Chad asked.

  Ben stuck his elbow in Eric’s ribs. “Clean windows?”

  When the boys laughed again, Cort’s face sizzled. He’d been so desperate for work, he hadn’t thought about what everybody would think. He figured Bree, Megan and Shaylee and their big mouths had spread the word.

  “Just forget it,” he scowled, walking faster.

  But the boys hung on him like a pack of wild dogs. He neared Rachel and Ticia and the noise the guys were making brought Rachel’s curious eyes to his.

  He stopped a distance away for damage control and faced the group of laughing boys with a blooming snarl. “Cut it out.”

  “Dude, I can’t believe you’re doing grudge work in some nail salon,” Eric said.

  “It was al there was, now screw off.”

  “Al right, al right.” Eric backed away. “See you at lunch.

  You driving?”

  Cort jerked his head in a yes and quickly turned.

  Couldn’t they see he’d been left with no other options? Now he was on the freaking roaster for who knows how long while everybody fried him for it.

  His quick glance told him he’d missed his chance to talk to Rachel – she was already gone. With another scowl, he continued to Economics.

  Was it just his imagination or were people staring at him with a laugh in their eyes? He’d been stared at plenty. He was used to being admired, in fact. But this whispering mocking stuff was like acid on his skin.

  I’m Cort Davies. He took the stairs up, two at a time. But rambling off his accomplishments and reminding himself of his social status did nothing to erase the bitter taste damaged pride left in his mouth.

  At lunch he drove the guys to the current spot where anybody who was anybody who wanted to be seen hung out.

  Kids streamed into Wendy’s, cloistered around parked cars in the parking lot, watching who came and went.

  He looked for Rachel’s sleek black BMW.

  “So, what’s it like?” Eric asked as they parked, got out and scanned the lot for babes.

  “What?” Cort found her perfect baby Beemer – parked al by itself. Yeah, she’s here. He strode toward the restaurant with the guys behind him.

  “That nail job—Chihuahua’s.”

  “It’s Chachi’s,” Cort corrected.

  “Bree said you actual y did her nails.” Ben pushed the door open.

  “That’s what I do—nails.”

  “No freaking way.” The news stopped Eric in the doorway, clogging the flow of bodies into the place.

  “It’s no biggie.” Cort shouldered past, forcing himself not to feel those greasy feelings of humiliation again. “I made seventy-five dol ars in two hours.

  That’s more than you can say.”

  “Seriously?”

  When Cort saw envy in his friend’s eyes, he grinned, felt like himself again. “It’s true.” He pul ed out the fifteen dol ars in tips he’d gotten from the girls and rubbed it under his friend’s noses. Then he confidently strode into the dining area and looked for Rachel.

  She was surrounded by guys. His face drew tight.

  Jeez, is that girl ever alone? His buddies stood behind him, expounding in amazement at his earning power and good fortune landing such a high-paying job. But he didn’t revel in the accolades. He was trying to figure out how to get to Rachel when she was always in the middle of a gang of guys.

  Her light laughter pierced the noisy air and sent a tickle through his body he couldn’t itch. He wanted to talk to her, had to catch her attention somehow. So he ordered, and kept casual glances aimed her way.

  “Rache.” Ticia elbowed her and the movement of her eyes toward another area of the dining room told Rachel to fol ow her gaze. She saw him—part boy, part man, al incredibly beautiful. Cort Davies stood in line with his friends.

  She only glanced, knowing their eyes might meet. She’d not let on she enjoyed looking at him, not after his chal enge to prove he wasn’t just another jock. She doubted he was not, but she was wil ing to let him try to convince her.

  He looked over and she granted him a smile, wondering how long it would take him to move into action.

  He had his tray and gave her a nod as he moved to a table and sat. Wouldn’t he just die if I went over there?

  “So I picked up the CD, it’s awesome,” somebody was saying and she nodded, her attention diverted.

  “Burn it for me, wil you?” Rachel knew these guys would do anything for her and sure enough Todd agreed. “I’l see you later.”

  She stood, gave each of her friends a quick hug and slyly signaled to Ticia to fol ow. Why did approaching Cort cause butterflies to flock in her stomach? She had tons of guy friends, considered herself a connoisseur of guys in fact, but this guy—everything about him thril ed and terrified her.

  She went to where he sat with Ben, Chad and Eric.

  “What are you going to do?” Ticia whispered.

  “Start something.”

  The look of utter surprise on Cort’s face as he watched her approach made her tingle al over. “Hey,” she stopped at his table.

  “Hey.” He was eating two cheeseburgers, a giant fry and a shake. “Wow,” she said. “They not feeding you at home?”

  He laughed and she did too, instantly easing the awkward tension. “Want some?” When he held out his shake, she couldn’t resist and took a sip, then handed it back to him.

  “So you’re a gentleman. That’s cool.” It pleased her more than she let on.

  “I want your number,” Cort said and whipped out his cel phone.

  She grinned. “That’s private information I give only to close friends.”

  “I’ve known you since elementary school,” Chad piped.

  “You can take my word for it, he’s a good guy.”

  “We knew each other in elementary school,” Rachel corrected nicely. “And I’l find out about him for myself.”

  “But I need to talk to you.” Cort stood, looking into her eyes. “Where do you work?”

  “You’l just have to find me.” Rachel left him with a taunting smile and she and Ticia walked out in the noon sun and headed to her car.

  “I wish I could do that.” Ticia sighed as they got inside.

  “You can do whatever you want, once you decide you want to do it.” Rachel started her car with a smile and slipped on a pair of black sunglasses, looking at herself in her rear-view mirror. One point in Cort’s column—he was a gentleman without pretense. Or he would have hesitated at sharing something their mouths would bot
h touch.

  She liked that.

  In fact, she liked it a lot, and thought about what a nice mouth he had—ful , wide, tempting. She’d kissed guys, liked kissing enough. But nobody made her feel that fire inside she’d fantasized about since she’d first seen Ariel and Eric kiss and wondered if fireworks could explode as a result.

  Was Cort that kind of kisser? He had the right equipment, and she had no doubt he had experience. Intel ectual y, she understood kissing was not just about the physics behind it. In fact, after her lame experiences, she came to realize the emotional connection, who you were kissing, was far more important than technique.

  It was a premeditated move not to share her phone number. She wanted to see the lengths he would go to reach her. She didn’t mean to be easy, not in any sense of the word.

  Life was too ful of exciting experiences not to make the most of it with a little sweat. Anyone with a brain knew working for something made the capture sweeter. Cort Davies would have to work hard if he wanted to capture her.

  FOUR

  The girl was insanely hot, Cort decided. The way she took his shake without any hesitation and wrapped those gorgeous lips around the straw had driven him nuts.

  There was more of that enticing teasing in those blue cat eyes of hers too, when she refused to give him her phone number. If it was some kind of game he didn’t care, if he played along, Rachel would make it total y fun.

  He smiled at the flirting girls he passed in the hal at school. None of them mattered, not with Rachel at his fingertips.

  “Cort!” He recognized the demanding voice and didn’t acknowledge it. He was on his way to work and couldn’t be late. “Hey!”

  He shoved open the double doors, heading out into the afternoon sun.

  “I need you to drop me off at home.” Lizzie sounded both annoyed and out of breath when she final y was in stride with him.

  “Can’t.” He opened the door of his white truck, got in.

  “I’m going to work.”

  She got in anyway. “You… found a job?” She exaggerated just to irritate him.

  He revved the engine and waited for her to get out. She broke into a laugh.