Maxed Steel

by Fields, MJ

  Total lie, but I’m not admitting a damn thing right now.

  She walks around to the passenger side, flips the seat forward, and then grabs a backpack and a big ass binder from behind the seat. Then she nudges the seat forward, drops the bag on the floor of billowing Becky, and grabs her phone.

  “Just fucking great.” She tosses it across the truck.

  “Dead battery?” I ask as I walk toward her.

  She glares at me, and I wonder if smoke is rolling out of her ears, or if it’s just Becky. One more loud backfire, and a bit more smoke, I realize it’s just Becky.

  Feeling pretty good about this because, one, I know a guy who works on old trucks; and also, fuck the meathead at home.

  I hold my phone out to her. “You need to call Sal and tell him you’ll be staying with me. I mean, on campus this weekend.”

  “This is not some joke, Max; this is my life.” Her lip starts to quiver. “I am supposed to be back home in two hours.” She holds up two fingers and repeats, “Two. And now …”

  There’s very little in this world that I can’t handle, and a girl crying is one of them.

  “Then you’re in luck. I happen to be heading back home myself. Sunday dinners with the family, something a growing man like me doesn’t ever miss.”

  “Seriously, did you just pop your man boobs?” She throws her hands in the air.

  “Not consciously. Not like this.” I pop ’em good then reach around her to grab her bag.

  “I am not riding with you. I’ll call a cab or—”

  “Not sure how much you bank working parties,” I cut her off as I walk toward the outer parking lot where my vehicle is parked, “but I’m guessing you’d blow that and then some.”

  “You can’t go to my place.”

  “No intentions of meeting the guy I’m gonna bust my ass to replace … unless he comes at me.”

  I hear her stomping behind me before she sarcastically says, “’Cause I’m Max fucking Steel, and me and my crew are bad asses.”

  I laugh genuinely at her, and she snaps, “Not one thing about my life is funny right now!”

  I look over my shoulder at her. “Blue, have you ever heard the saying laugh and the world laughs with you?”

  “Of course I have. You realize how that phrase ends, correct?”

  “Nope. You?” I ask, seeing an opening here to lure her in. Then I turn and walk backward, waiting for her response.

  She looks at me like duh. “Cry and you cry alone.”

  “That may be your life now, but I promise you, Blue, you’ll never cry when you’re with me.”

  “You are so infuriatingly naïve. People cry, Max, they do. And news flash: I have cried when I was with you. Just last night, in fact.”

  “Right, I fucked that up. Thanks for having my back and setting me straight. You’ll never cry alone, again.”

  “Yeah,” she huffs. “I bet you’re wrong.”

  “About?”

  She waves me off with one hand while hugging the thick binder to her body with the other, covering her tits. Annoying as hell, too. The nips are a dead giveaway that I’m getting to her. Pretty sure she’s hiding them.

  “Would you just turn around before you get hurt and end up in the hospital again?”

  Now that she’s caught up to me, I have no problem turning around, because I can see her and know she’s not going to take off. And yeah, I know that thought is fucked up, but even more so is I wouldn’t deny it if asked. I’d chase her ass down.

  “I liked our first date, in act two, of the story of us. Rest assured, your virtue is safe with me. I promise not to tell anyone we slept together on night one.”

  She throws her hands up in the air, dropping her binder, and she doesn’t even seem to realize it. “Max! Read the room. I’m not interested, and if I was, you’re totally blowing it.” She squats down and starts gathering colorful rectangle papers that are now falling out of her book.

  I follow suit.

  “This a school project?” I ask.

  “No, it’s a life project.”

  “Like, for shopping or—”

  “They’re coupons, Max.” She is definitely annoyed as she continues shoving them inside the folders. “Things normal, and poor, people use to help stretch their budget, to feed their families.” She holds one up. “To buy toilet paper to wipe their ass for thirty-five cents less than normal.”

  “I get it, Blue. I bought a parking pass all the way out on the fringe to save bank. Just never knew toilet paper was something you could save a buck on.”

  She looks at me curiously.

  I stand up and stretch out my hand to her.

  “I can stand on my own, thank you.”

  I reach down and grab her wrist, pulling her up anyway.

  She pulls away and quickly begins walking away … in the wrong direction.

  “Mila, this way.”

  When we finally get to my truck, I look behind me to see she’s looking at my ride in confusion. It’s a far cry from the BMWs that I drove in my high school years.

  I pull my keys from my pocket and hit the unlock button. Then I open the door for her. Mom would be proud.

  “What do you think?”

  “I never pegged you for a truck guy,” she says as she climbs in.

  “Blue, my asshole just puckered when you mentioned pegging. Let’s not do that again yeah?” I laugh as I shut her door.

  Climbing in, I notice her on the verge of tears.

  Starting the truck, I try to figure out how to dam up those unshed tears, ease the burden a bit.

  “Charger’s yours. Shouldn’t take long.” I pull mine out of my pocket. “Use mine to call home, if you need to.”

  I buckle my seat belt, and she does the same.

  Plugging in her phone, she says, “The news of Becky’s death isn’t going to be given over the phone.”

  “She’s not dead, Blue.” I throw my truck into drive and pull out of my spot. “She’s just taking a smoke break.”

  Looking out of the window, she shakes her head. “This isn’t funny, Max, okay? This isn’t, and unless you want me to throw myself out of your freaking perfectly running, ‘old’ truck, I’m going to ask you to just stop talking.”

  “She wasn’t running perfect when I bought her. Just needed some tender loving care.”

  “Well, good for her.”

  Trying to figure out what the hell to say, the right thing to say—anything, actually, because this quiet is kicking my ass.

  Rolling up to the light, I say, “Thinking you need a little of that right now, too.”

  “Max …” she says, her voice shaking in frustration.

  “Sorry, Blue, I’ve never been real comfortable in silence. I didn’t grow up in that kind of space. The ocean isn’t quiet, not when you know it like I do. And reading was always something Mom encouraged, and I loved it, but that all changed when you and I started passing notes.”

  “You started passing notes. I ignored you.”

  I can’t help but laugh as I hit the gas and pull through the light.

  “Aaaand then you didn’t.” She reaches out and slugs my arm.

  “Be careful, Blue; you punch Steel, you’re gonna hurt yourself. And BTW, you gave as good as you got.”

  “Better.”

  “Not gonna disagree. You remember the first one you sent back?”

  “No.” Her voice squeaks.

  “You asked me when I joined the circus, because it was physically impossible to have sex in that position, and all I could think was how much I wanted to prove you wrong.”

  She says nothing. Not gonna lie, it’s rocking my cock-fidence

  At the next stoplight, I turn and look at her. “So, tell me, Blue, what did you think?”

  Kill Me Now

  Mila

  His question was almost the same as it was that night. The only difference was he called me Miller and not Blue.

  That night was as life-altering as the fateful car accide
nt that took my mom from me. My father … I don’t give him a second thought, not anymore, because I have no room in my life for the rage that those thoughts provoke.

  Senior year. Winter beach party

  God, I hate these things, but Aunt Pam insists it’s part of growing up on The Shore. I don’t point out that we actually don’t live on The Shore; we live in a rent-controlled shithole in Bayside, but I don’t. I’m grateful that she moved in when Mom and her brother—my father—died, so that my sister Valencia didn’t have to move.

  I wanted to move. I wanted to and never come back, not ever, but Valencia, or Cia as I call her, was only ten and wasn’t as aware of how horrible our father was. She was always early to bed and didn’t see him come home, piss drunk and puking, or see or “experience” his heavy handedness.

  For that, I am grateful.

  Chelsea and I walked through the warehouse that one of Seashore’s elites rented for the party. There were small fire-pits evenly spaced out. Chelsea assured me it was perfectly safe.

  I wasn’t afraid of anyone hurting me physically—I’d been there, done that—but I preferred her to believe that over telling her the truth.

  The truth? I was embarrassed about the way I looked, my faults and flaws, ones all teenagers have, but those with money can hide under makeup, designer clothes, and plastic surgeries. My insecurities, highlighted by the whispers behind my back, about my fat ass, my acne, my shoes, my hair, my … everything, since I began school, on scholarship, where my aunt worked in the cafeteria at Seashore Academy.

  Then I saw a lightning bolt of a smile flash my way, illuminating the darkness. That smile was flashed by the author of every one of my fantasies and my filthiest dreams.

  Max Steel.

  Chelsea was chatting up Trigger, her newest crush, as I smiled back at Max.

  “He’s a player,” came from behind me. “That fake smile masks his true intentions, Miller.”

  I started to turn around, but a hand on my back stopped me.

  “He sees you looking at me, and he’s going to play every card in his hand to get in your panties, and not because he’s falling for you, Miller. It’ll be because he hates me. He hates me because his cousin hates me.” Marcello Effisto’s voice spoke in slow, deep, confident tones.

  “I’m guessing, just like every other girl here, that you’re looking for a fairy tale. A boy who’s going to whisk you off your feet, take you to games and dances, hold your hand in the halls, be by your side at lame-ass parties like this one, and someone to text you a good morning, beautiful, and his deepest desires at night.”

  “You don’t know me,” I whispered back.

  “Oh, come now. No need to deny it.” I felt his breath on the back of my neck as he said, “I myself believed in that very myth. I was going to marry Tris Steel and live that whole happy ever after that Hallmark sells us. She moved on.

  “Can I trust you, Miller? Can I tell you a secret?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Again, I said nothing.

  “It still hurts. It hurts that I believed the bullshit, the emotional torment that comes with lies and broken promises. So, I offer you some advice, and a warning.”

  He paused to wait for my response, and again, I didn’t give him one. I mean, he was Marc Effisto. He would walk down the hall, and the sea of students parted as he passed. He was feared and revered.

  “Cunt is crack. We all know addicts will do anything to catch that high. Girls hold onto their virginity like it’s some prized possession and dangle it like a carrot in front of boys who will do or say anything to sink their cocks into a hot, wet pussy, because they are chasing the highest high known to humankind.”

  I stood as still as a statue.

  “He’ll try to seduce you. He may succeed. If you’re lucky, he’ll make you come before he does. Then, Miller, you, too, will become an addict. When he moves on, because as you see, he’s a player, you’ll become like me—cold, callous, and your heart will become stone.”

  I watched as Max, surrounded by girls, threw his head back in laughter as they literally looked like they’d eat him up if they could.

  “You’re so much smarter than those girls. I can tell you have suffered in ways they may never know, just like me.”

  “We’re nothing alike.”

  “The darkness is there, Miller. I feel it. And truth be told, it turns me on.” I felt his hand slide into my parka pocket. “You wanna catch a buzz, get high with someone who isn’t going to lie to you like boys like Max will, you won’t regret it. My phone number is written on the key card I slid in your pocket. I have a room across the street.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “I can’t wait to sink into someone who gets it.”

  For the next two hours, I got those smiles from Max … but so did everyone else. By the end of the night, I was so angry at myself that, when Chelsea and Trigger slipped away … so did I.

  * * *

  “You awake, Blue?” Max asks, bringing me back to the present.

  I look away from the window and at him. “Yeah.”

  “My stomach’s screaming, and my tank will be soon. You hungry?”

  “No.” I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  “Gotta eat, Blue,” he says as he takes the offramp.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  I watch Max in the mirror as he leans against the truck, gas pump in one hand as he flips through his phone, smiling or laughing at something or someone with each swipe, and tears cloud my eyes.

  * * *

  Two days after that night with Marcello Effisto, I smiled at him in the hall, and he rolled his eyes. I watched as those girls, the ones who whispered behind my back, now laughed in my face.

  That same day, entering Physics class, that slow, deep, confident voice, now laced with disgust, whispered from behind, “I was wrong about you, Miller. You’re just as delusional and foolish as they are.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I whispered back without bothering to look behind me. “You weren’t that good.”

  A deep, menacing chuckle came from somewhere deep and definitely dark. “Some advice? Don’t be a fucking liar like the rest of them. Do not lie to yourself. I tore through your untouched cherry, so therefore, I am actually the best you’ve ever had.”

  I never questioned why the halls parted like the red seas when he walked through them or looked in his direction again. And I didn’t judge one person for falling for what I myself fell for. But, unlike many, I didn’t ever look back.

  Instead, I looked back to Max who, two weeks later, proved that light would always outshine darkness.

  Until the accident, and then …

  My phone vibrates, and I pull it off the charger.

  Cia: Overslept. Will you be here before the appointment, or do I have to do that alone, too?

  Dammit, I think as I tap back my response

  Shades pulled down, smile brighter than the sun on his face, Max walks toward the truck with arms full of convenience store junk food and hands full of huge coffee cups.

  I unbuckle and lean across the seat to push his door open.

  “Thanks, Blue,” he says, handing me one cup then the next before sliding in.

  “How do you keep fit when you eat heart attack food?” I ask, taking a sip of coffee.

  His smile grows even bigger. “I don’t eat like this all the time, but sometimes, you just gotta say fuck it, yeah?”

  “Sure.”

  He drops the food on the seat between us and, as he’s buckling, says, “I’d rather a steady diet of your tongue and your pussy, too, but I’m sensing we’re not there yet. Am I right?”

  I choke on the coffee, and all he does is laugh.

  Once I get my shit together, I ask the dumbest question I could ask. “What exactly do you want from me, Max?”

  “I wanna see where this thing can go. ’Cause I’m feeling this deep, Mila, and I know damn well you do, too.”

  “Yo
u have no idea who I am anymore, and—”

  “I’m going on feeling here,” he interrupts. “Gut feelings. Felt a pull with you back then. Shit happened. Shit that I’m man enough to address now. And if you think I’m bullshitting about that gut feeling, I can tell you I felt its push, too. Twice, actually. Both were waves I knew damn well I had no business attempting while touring, and both times I got knocked around underwater and thought, This is it. I’m done. But I surfaced. And that last time, it was like the wind was blowing my proverbial sails back to shore. I knew I needed to come home, because I promised my mom I’d graduate college, and if I kept my shit up, I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my promise. And, Blue, I’m a man of my word. Doubt that? Think back on me telling you I’d make you come twice before we came together and tell me you still doubt it.”

  I palm my face as he throws his truck in gear and pulls out, chuckling.

  “I remember everything, Blue. And the fact that your face is as red as my dick was after I pierced it myself tells me so do you.”

  “Seriously?” I now cover my ears. “Just stop.”

  “Dead serious. Healing up good. And stop? For now, I will. But when I pick you up to head back Monday afternoon, you better be ready to tell me you let old Sal off the hook, because Max is back, and he’s fucking starving.”

  Monday.

  * * *

  The next half an hour, I pretend to be asleep, because the dread I feel looming is like a weighted blanket that’s doing the opposite of what it’s intended to do—driving anxiety and not easing it. The anxiety of what is to come, and I desperately want to postpone the inevitable. Then I realize I have … for two years. I just didn’t think I would ever be in the situation I am right now.

  Hell, when I saw him, I never thought he would recognize me, let alone keep showing up. I have hated him for years for what he took from me. I have focused on it because there are things about this entire fucked-up situation that I have never hated him for.

  Right before we pull into the city, I sneakily shoot Cia a text that I’ll be there soon.