On Common Ground. Tracy Kelleher
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revolving door.
She was conscious of his legs coming perilously close to the back of her thighs. Lilah cleared her throat. “Let’s leave that evaluation aside for now, okay? I don’t need you to lecture me on how I wronged your good buddy. Besides, for all I know, as soon as you’re alone, you’ll immediately contact him to let him know my rear end is bigger than ever.”
Finally, the slowly revolving door deposited them on the sidewalk, and she stumbled out on the pavement. The fresh air should have been a relief, but this was Newark, and fresh air was a relative concept given the bus and taxi fumes.
Justin followed closely behind. “I won’t text, let alone communicate with Stephen in any form. I should let you know, I haven’t kept up with him since graduation.”
Lilah raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding me.”
“So you’ve nothing to worry about on that score.” He held his arm out toward the street. “We need to cross here. I’m parked in the lot across the way.”
“But you two were practically joined at the hip in college.”
“Except where you were concerned,” he reminded her. “And by the way, I don’t know where you get off saying your butt is too big. Anyone can see you’re incredibly fit and trim.” He started to cross the street when the light changed. “In fact, if anything, you could probably afford to gain a few pounds.”
She shouldn’t have felt pleased, but she was. It was the inner-anorexic in all women who were once overweight. “Well, I run a lot these days—the job kind of requires it. So, it’s hard to gain weight.”
“You could try eating more.”
“Eating? Who has time for eating?”
“Lots of folks do. It’s called three square meals a day.”
“I know. It’s something we try to make happen in the villages.”
He slanted her a glance. “And you don’t practice what you preach?” He kept up a steady pace as they passed the rows of cars.
Lilah frowned. Why did he seem angry with her? She took a few giant strides to catch up. “Wait a minute. I don’t get it,” she called out after him.
Justin stopped. He fished some keys out of his pocket and waited.
She jogged to his side. “Tell me this. If you’re not here because Stephen sent you to escort me, why are you here?”
A giant SUV pulled out of the row near them, and the driver gunned the engine as he raced off.
“Why am I here?” he repeated. “To tell you the truth, I don’t usually get too involved with Reunions stuff.” He wet his top lip. “I’m here because of you.”
“Me?” Lilah stopped while Justin opened the trunk of a green sports car. She looked down. “And this…this…little car is yours?”
“This is not just a little car. It’s a fully restored…well, partially restored—I still have some body work to do—Triumph TR4, a British classic.” He gazed at it lovingly.
The rust around the back fender didn’t exactly induce confidence. “Is it roadworthy?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “Careful, or I’ll change my mind.” He shut the trunk lid and gave it an extra push to make sure it closed. Then he turned to her. “I was the one who recommended you for the Paine Prize, and as a result, I have the enviable task of serving as your personal chaperone for the duration of the Reunions festivities. How can I put this?” He rubbed his chin philosophically. “We’ll be like two peas in a pod.”
“In this thing we will, that’s for sure,” she joked, then from his silence, realized she may have gone too far. “That’s very nice of you,” she said quickly to make up for her insensitivity, “but you know, it’s really not necessary. I’m sure I can find my way around.”
Justin walked over to the passenger-side door and held it open. “You’d deny me the pleasure of your company? Besides, if you don’t toe the line, I’ll be the one to get in trouble. And who knows, on top of all the trouble I caused in my undergraduate days, they might just take away my diploma retroactively.”
Lilah had to laugh. “You didn’t get in that much trouble—okay, you did. But it wasn’t as if you ever flunked a single course—even if I never saw you study.”
“Ah, I had my secret ways.” He pointed to the open door. “Are you going to get in?”
“Are you changing the subject?”
His smile was a little too charming.
“Okay, we’ll let that pass—for now.” She slipped into the seat without further complaining. Until it collapsed under her weight. “I think you need to do some internal renovation in addition to the bodywork,” she said, watching him circle the car.
He slipped into the driver’s side. “Be careful of the loose spring on the right side.”
Lilah shifted closer to the gearshift. “Now you tell me.” The bucket seats were really quite close and the gap separating them, not that wide.
“I’ve been concentrating on working under the hood so far.”
“So you fix cars for a living?”
“It’s just a hobby. And my work is nothing nearly as exciting as yours, that’s for sure.” He turned the key in the ignition and put the car in Reverse, looking over his shoulder before he pulled out.
“No, I’m curious. I mean, what does someone end up doing who spent most of his college years seducing every woman in sight and giving parties that are possibly still talked about in some quarters.”
Justin grinned slyly. “Not possibly. Definitely.”
He still had terrific dimples, Lilah noticed.
“And I didn’t seduce every woman, as you personally can attest to.” He reached across, his forearm almost skimming the front of her shirt. “Excuse me.”
Lilah swallowed with difficulty.
He flipped down the glove box and pulled out a ticket. “Your job is to guard this with your life,” he said and held it out for her.
“And if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to know what the Port Authority will do to you,” he joked.
“Oh, for a minute, I thought you had plans.”
He swung into the lane that led to the payment booths. “Oh, I have plans, but they’ve got nothing to do with parking fees.”
Lilah rolled her eyes. “So what do you do if you’re not in the business of fixing cars? Provide escort service, because I gotta tell you, your pickup lines are getting a bit old.”
He pulled to a stop behind a Cadillac Escalade. “You think? No one’s been complaining lately.”
“Then the women where you live have pretty low standards. Where do you live anyway?”
“In Grantham.” He put the car in first and inched his way up to the booth.
“In Grantham! You’re joking?”
He shook his head. “Ticket, please.” He held out his hand.
Lilah slowly placed the stub in it, careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. “So you work at the university? Doing what? Coaching crew?”
He paid for the parking and pulled away, smoothly shifting up to second. “No, I gave up rowing a year out of college. I teach.”
Lilah leaned away from him to get a broader view. “You’re kidding me?”
He shook his head and concentrated on the signs.