The Baby Magnet. Terry Essig

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      Marie rolled her eyes in resignation. Jason was on a roll. She was in for a good half-hour sermon on why Jason needed a new car, preferably a sports model with a trunk big enough for a mega stereo system complete with something called a subwoofer. Marie had asked around. It seemed that this subwoofer thing was for the hormonally impaired. It magnified bass sounds. It was what made your car shake when you were stuck at a red light next to some testosterone-challenged adolescent whose entire vehicle shuddered on oversize tires while emitting low boom boom de boom sounds. Allowing that thing into her house or car would be tantamount to dying and going to hell. She’d be permanently stuck at a red light that would never turn green, at least not for her.

      No way. Not a chance.

      Marie had never had an inclination to indulge in alcohol before but she was seriously thinking about taking up drinking. If she was declared unfit wouldn’t somebody else have to take over the job of seeing Jason through until her grandfather was back on his feet? Didn’t the Red Cross deal with disasters? Surely Jason qualified. There had to be somebody. Anybody.

      When Jason showed no signs of letting up, Marie decided to break into his diatribe. “Even though the accident was clearly Luke’s fault for having the poor judgment to be behind you when you decided to back up, it’s your insurance premiums that will go up,” she informed him grimly as she gently eased the car into traffic. “You’re going to have to study a bit harder next semester. A 3.0 gpa will get you a good student rate and help counteract what just happened.”

      Jason only shrugged. “The light’s changing. Better slow down.”

      The attitude and running commentary on her driving put her back up. She’d rather deal with Luke Deforest—Why did her thoughts keep coming back to Luke? He wasn’t as blatantly handsome as Wade had been. No, his attraction was more insidious. It sneaked up and got you on a subconscious level. Rotten male. Marie tapped the brakes. “I know what color the light is and I’m serious here. For your information, teenage boys and girls in their early twenties have the highest rates. You can’t afford to make it any worse by messing around with your grades.”

      “No skin off my nose,” Jason informed her. “Dad’s going to have to pay whatever it costs anyway. I sure don’t have the dough. That pittance of an allowance you talked him into doling out doesn’t cover more than a pack of chewing gum. You really fell down on the job there, Marie.”

      Marie snorted as the light she’d stopped for changed and she again accelerated. “You buy mighty expensive chewing gum is all I can say. Like twenty dollars a pack. And maybe I could have talked him into more but I didn’t and I won’t. Twenty dollars is plenty for somebody your age.” She almost had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from telling him about how little she’d gotten when she’d been his age. It would make her sound too old. Too much like the parents who lectured their ungrateful kid about how they’d walked four miles each way barefoot through the snow to get to school, uphill both directions and furthermore, they’d liked it. Marie refused to permit herself to fall onto the wrong side of that generation line. She’d much rather be on the eye-rolling side even though the temptation was severe and she faithfully checked her hair every morning ever since her grandfather had shattered his hip to make sure none of the strands had grayed overnight.

      But Jason wasn’t done yet. “You just don’t get it. I mean, were you ever young? It’s like totally demeaning to have to ask my niece for money, you know. None of the other guys have to do anything so lame. Their parents don’t give them stupid curfews of eleven o’clock on the weekend. They can stay out as late as they want and they all get however much money they want.”

      “Yeah, right. Sure they do.” Marie turned a corner. She felt oddly bereft as she lost sight of the street Luke lived on. “Give it up,” she advised. “It’s not going to happen. The plan is, I’m going to discuss this with Grandpa and I’ll advise him to pay the equivalent of the cheapest insurance rates. I think he’ll listen, too. That means you’ll have to fork over the difference between that and whatever the actual charge is.”

      “I don’t have any money,” Jason repeated slowly as though Marie were mentally slow and couldn’t grasp simple concepts. “No moola, get it? Zero dinero. Zip.”

      Marie turned off onto another side street. They were almost home. Thank God. Maybe she could escape up to her room for an hour or two. “Guess you’ll have to get a job, huh, Jase?”

      “I’m not sixteen yet,” Jason informed her smugly. “No one will hire me.”

      Marie patted his arm bracingly. “Sure they will, kid. Ever hear of a work permit? If twenty dollars a week really isn’t enough to keep you in the style you’re accustomed to or you need extra cash ’cause you don’t qualify for the good student discount, why, I’ll be happy to get Grandpa to sign for one. No problem.”

      “Think you’re so smart,” Jason muttered under his breath and braced himself. “Watch the kid on the bike.”

      “I see him, I see him.”

      “The speed limit’s twenty-five. You’re doing almost thirty. How come your hands are on ten and two? My driving instructor says they should be on nine and three so the airbag doesn’t break them if it goes off. Of course he’s only a total loser. His airbag probably goes off every day of the week and twice on Sundays.”

      “Jason, I’ve been driving for eight years now. I think I can handle it.”

      “Couldn’t prove it by me,” her uncle said under his breath. “There’s a car coming. Watch him.”

      “I’m watching him, Jason, I’m watching.” Marie wondered how parents ever put up with getting their kids through to their licenses. Especially if they had more than one. If Jason corrected her driving one more time, she’d be forced to murder him. There wasn’t a judge in the country that would convict her, either. Not if they’d had any kids with learner’s permits of their own.

      Marie knew better than to get drawn in. She absolutely did. She should just ignore him. That would be best. Ignoring Jason, however, was a bit like trying to ignore a nest of disturbed wasps. It was damned hard not to notice all the little pricks and harder still to keep from swatting back.

      “Stop sign at the end of the block.”

      Marie’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel when she blew. “Shut up, Jase,” she directed. “Just…shut the heck up.”

      The car safely garaged once more, Marie called her insurance company, then retreated upstairs. She pulled the shades down and hid in her bedroom for an hour. Teaching Jason how to drive was going to make an old woman out of her in next to no time. She had to fight the urge to get up and go check her hair in the mirror.

      Luke Deforest probably found gray hair a turn off.

      What? How stupid. She didn’t—shouldn’t—care what Luke Deforest thought about her hair or any other of her body parts. Yes, she did. Well, she’d get over it. She’d see to it.

      Marie took a deep breath and held it, then slowly exhaled. This was all Jason’s fault. He was making her lose her mind. After all, what did she know about dealing with an adolescent? Heck, she’d been one herself not that long ago. Finding herself so quickly and abruptly on the receiving end of all that adolescent garbage was throwing her psyche into shock, that was all.

      Marie took another deep breath, slowly exhaled and dug out an old Paul Simon CD, curled up in her favorite reading СКАЧАТЬ