Samson nods, holding my gaze. “It’s okay.”
He says that with sincerity, like he doesn’t hold it against me at all.
I don’t come across people very often that I think I can learn something from, but he might actually have me figured out more than I have him figured out. I find that attractive.
Which is why I exit the roof and walk down the stairs feeling a lot heavier than when I walked up them.
The dog is still in the same spot when I make it back outside. He’s looking at me excitedly—his tail wagging when I reach the bottom step. “Look at you, being all obedient.” I bend down and pet him. His hair is all matted. The poor unloved thing reminds me so much of myself.
“Is that your dog?”
I follow the voice until I see a woman seated at a picnic table beneath the first level of the house. She’s messing with a bag of something sitting on her lap. She’s older, maybe in her seventies. She must be Marjorie.
“I don’t know,” I say, looking down at the dog. “We just met.”
I walk closer to the picnic table. The dog follows me.
“You a friend of Samson’s?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, repeating myself. “We just met, too.”
She laughs. “Well. If you figure him out, let me know. He’s a mystery, that one.”
I guess I’m not the only one who thinks that about him.
“He wanted me to see the view from your roof. It’s gorgeous.” Now that I’m closer, I can see she’s cracking pecans. I lean against one of the stilts holding her house up. “How long have you known Samson?” I ask her.
She lifts her chin in thought. “Since the beginning of the year, I guess. I had a heart attack in February. Can’t get around like I used to, so he comes over every now and then and I put him to work. He doesn’t complain. He also doesn’t charge me, so I’m not sure what he’s getting out of it.”
I smile. I like that he doesn’t take money from her. Not that she can’t afford to pay someone to help her. She’s sitting in the tallest house in what’s probably the nicest neighborhood on this peninsula. It’s not the most modern. It’s actually kind of dated, but it has character. It feels lived in, unlike a lot of these other houses that are rent-ready and identical. “I really like your house,” I say, looking around. “What do you call this level?”
“The stilt level,” she says. She points above her head. “We consider that the first floor.”
I glance around at the other houses. Some of them have enclosed their stilt levels. Some have made them parking spaces. I like Marjorie’s. She’s got a tiki bar, a picnic table and a couple of hammocks hanging between some of the stilts.
“Some people like to turn their stilt levels into extra rooms,” she says. “The new idiots next door enclosed an entire guest room on their stilt level. Not too bright, but they didn’t want my opinion. They’ll figure it out soon enough. Some days the ocean is our neighbor, but some days the ocean is our roommate.” She motions for me to come closer. “Here. Take these.” She hands me a gallon-sized bag of shelled pecans.
“You don’t have to give me these,” I say, trying to hand them back to her.
She waves me away. “Keep them. I have too many.”
I have no idea what I’m going to do with a pound of pecans. I’ll give them to Alana, I guess. “Thank you.”
Marjorie nods her head at the dog. “Have you named him yet?”
“No.”
“You should call him Pepper Jack Cheese.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“Why not?”
I look down at the dog. He doesn’t look like a piece of cheese. I’m not sure any dog looks like cheese. “Pepper Jack,” I say, trying the name out on him. “Do you feel like a Pepper Jack?”
“Pepper Jack Cheese,” Marjorie corrects. “He deserves the full name.”
I like Marjorie. She’s odd. “Thanks for the pecans.” I look down at the dog. “Let’s go home, Pepper Jack Cheese.”
ELEVEN
I went to a small elementary school. That’s where I met Natalie. It was only a few blocks from my house and it was small enough that there was only one teacher per grade. Your clique was the grade you were in. In elementary school, no one cared about money because we were too young to really know better.
Junior high and high school were different. They were much larger campuses, and by that age, money defined your clique. Unless you were exceptionally pretty. Or, in Zackary Henderson’s case, famous on YouTube. He wasn’t rich, but his social media status landed him in the rich crowd. Followers are considered a more valuable currency than cash to a lot of people my age.