American Outlaw - Jesse James [19]
I blushed. “No.”
“I mean it. We have a spare bedroom, and that’s where you’ll stay. You’re not to sleep in Rhonda’s room.” Rhonda’s mom was pretty, just like her daughter, and when she smiled you could see how they were related. However, she wasn’t smiling now. Not even a little bit. “Not on special occasions, not when I’m not around—you don’t do it. Is that understood?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“I want you to have a job. I know a couple of people who could probably use a strong kid like you to help make deliveries. How does that sound to you?”
“It sounds good,” I said.
“You’re to go to school,” she continued. “Every day. I mean, if you’re not trying, then I don’t see any reason I should let you live with me and my daughter. Do you?”
“No,” I agreed.
“Good.” Now she smiled. “And hell, if you have the energy, help me out a little around here. I hate doing the damn dishes. So far, Rhonda’s hopeless. How are you at doing dishes, kiddo?”
I laughed, relieved. Rhonda gave me a hug. “I’m super good,” I said, too choked up to add more. My arms remained braided around her daughter’s waist. “I’m the best dishwasher in the whole world.”
So I moved into their spare bedroom, and for the first time in my life, I was part of a family. We ate meals together every night. It was what I had dreamed of. Linda was such a great person to me—she made a point of checking in to see whether I was doing my schoolwork and whether I was actually going to my job, which turned out to be working at a furniture store. She didn’t pretend to like my dad, either. That made me appreciate her even more.
Rhonda and I were totally in love. By necessity, we were pretty chaste, but that didn’t keep me from being one hundred percent sprung over her. She was going to turn sixteen soon, and I wanted to blow her mind with a great surprise.
“What do you want for your birthday?” I whispered to her one night when we were cuddling together, outside the house.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rhonda said. “Whatever you get me will be great, I just know it.” She smiled at me.
“I’m gonna totally bowl you over,” I boasted. “I’m gonna blow your mind.”
“Sure, Jesse.” She laughed. “Blow it!”
I’m sure she was expecting me to spend twenty dollars at the mall jewelry store. Maybe show up with a gold-leaf necklace, one of those babies that turn your neck spinach green in two days. Instead, the day of her birthday, there appeared in her driveway a 1961 sea-foam green Volkswagen Beetle.
“Jesse!” she exclaimed. “What . . . is this?”
“It’s your car,” I said.
“Oh my God!” She was so excited, she was literally dancing from foot to foot. “What?”
“It’s your car,” I repeated, proudly. I held out a key ring to her—a single key dangled from it. “Here. Take it for a ride, if you want.”
I still haven’t forgotten the way Rhonda’s face looked when she took that key. She was totally intoxicated on surprise and hyperexcitement. But I saw that she also looked proud. Of me, for having gotten this done for her.
“Oh, Jesse,” Rhonda said. “You are so sweet. You are so good to me.” She gazed up at me lovingly. “How in the world did you do all this?”
I grinned. “Don’t worry about that.”
I hadn’t bought the car outright, of course. I was way too broke for that. I’d gotten a working engine from one guy, and a Volkswagen shell from another. The wheels and fenders came in from yet another source. Truthfully, there were a few stolen parts on it—Linda hadn’t reformed me completely. But I’d painted it myself, and done lots of body work to the car, removing every dent I could find. It looked cherry.
“What can I do for you in return?” she said, smiling.
“You could drive me to football practice,” I answered truthfully. “If I’m much later, coach’ll freaking kill me.”
That year, my junior year, was when I really became a star. The coaches realized they could play me on offense and defense, as well as the special teams, and I would never ask for a breather. The whole season, I never came off the field—much to the dismay of my backup, a good-natured