If I Tell

swear. I promise. Nothing.”
    I turned from her and went back to scrubbing the counter.
    “Don’t hate me, okay?” she begged.
    But at that minute, I did. Hatred filled me. There was blackness in my heart for my messed-up best friend who, even with her crooked lipstick and smeared eyes, managed to look vulnerable and sad instead of cheap and slutty.
    Lacey grabbed my hand as I continued my psycho scrubbing. “You’re not going to tell your mom, are you? She’d totally hate me, and I really love your mom.”
    “You have a really messed-up way of showing people you love them.” I crossed my arms and glanced over to the cash register as two customers bustled up to the order area chatting about caffeine cravings.
    Lacey patted my arm. Her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. “Don’t write a song about it either, okay?”
    I watched her walk away to take orders and wondered how she was going to react to the news that my mom was pregnant with Simon’s baby. I hoped it made her feel much, much worse about what she’d done. I wanted her to bleed a little inside.
    The customers ordered plain coffee, so Lacey strolled back to my work area. She leaned against the sink, watching me pour coffee into Grinds mugs.
    I put the drinks on the counter, and when I turned back, Lacey pirouetted for me. “Do you like my new work shirt?” The white shirt dipped so low that the lace of her frilly bra showed.
    Was she kidding? Her expression drooped when I didn’t give her a compliment. Did she think all was forgiven that easily?
    I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Look, my shift is over. I gotta go.” I turned.
    “Call me soon, okay?” she said.
    I didn’t answer her as I headed for the time clock. Lacey was my best friend, but my mom was my mom. Even if our relationship wasn’t exactly conventional.
    I had to make sure it never happened again.
    “Lacey?” I called as she made her way back to the cash area. She glanced back at me.
    “My mom’s pregnant,” I said in a flat voice. “Simon’s going to be a father.”
    We looked each other straight in the eyes. “Don’t ever tell anyone what happened, okay?”
    Lacey’s eyes opened wider, and her face seemed to get paler. “Oh. God. I’m so sorry.” Her hand went up to cover her mouth.
    I shook my head, not wanting to hear more. “Just don’t say anything, okay?”
    “Not a soul.” Lacey made an X across her chest and closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “She’ll never ever know.”
    ***
    My calloused left fingers pressed the spaces between the frets on my guitar, and I strummed the wire strings with the other hand. Strumming is the true act of playing guitar. The hardened tips of my fingers felt soothed. The itchy cravings I had when I wasn’t playing were gone. I softly sang the words to Neil Diamond’s “I Am…I Said.”
    In my mind, I remembered Grandpa accompanying me with his beautiful aching voice. He’d taught me the song as a duet to be ironic, he said. His sense of humor drove Grandma crazy. A tear formed in the corner of my eye, and I let it plop down my cheek without stopping to wipe it away.
    Someone cleared his throat.
    Embarrassed, I dropped my fingers from the strings and looked up. I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t alone in the privacy of my room. Not wanting to go home after my shift, I’d walked to the park behind Grinds and propped myself up on top of a picnic bench. This time of the year, the park was abandoned, so I’d laid my guitar case out beside me and gotten lost in my own music.
    Jackson took a step forward and, with a serious expression, reached into his back pocket and threw a bill inside my case. It was a twenty.
    A tiny smile replaced the ache in my heart. “I’m not busking,” I told him. “I don’t want money.”
    “I honestly felt like I should pay for that. You’re really good.”
    I was trying to think of a response when his cell started ringing from his jacket pocket. He lifted his finger to tell me to hang on and then started digging around. “Just a sec.”
    He pulled out his phone.
    “Hello?” he said. He paused and turned away from me. “Yeah. I already told you. I’ll get you your stuff.”
    I stared at his back, noticing the nice round shape of his butt in his jeans, but I shook my head. Was he doing a drug deal right in front of me? I didn’t know whether to laugh or get up and stomp away. I decided it wasn’t my business and tried not to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation. A