Violent Circle Comedy Series Box Set

by S. M. Shade

  Neal parks his car across the street at his place, then meets me as I’m walking to my door. “We should’ve seen this coming,” he laughs.

  “Is this a normal Spring break thing?”

  “No, but if the community center makes the lock-in an annual thing, I’m sure this will be too.”

  He follows me inside as I unlock my door. A loud bout of laughter echoes outside, and we look at each other. “You want to?”

  “Yep,” I agree, switching to my comfortable sneakers. “You know something crazy is going to happen.”

  Neal peeks out the window. “Uh…Barney just rolled down the spiral slide.”

  A snort leaps out of me. “Rolled?”

  “Well, it wasn’t a smooth journey, I can tell you that.”

  “Normal Friday for him.” Barney’s name is actually Barry, and he’s our resident drunk, nicknamed after the Simpsons character. Everyone watches out for him, makes sure he gets home, tries to keep him from getting arrested or hurt. He’s dead set against rehab so it’s pretty much all anyone can do.

  “Ready, V?”

  My heart stutters a little at the nickname, something he’s never called me before. It’s silly, I know. He calls Aiden “A”. It doesn’t mean anything, but it doesn’t escape my notice either.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  We start toward the park together, and Samantha, my neighbor from two doors down, falls in step with us. I don’t know her well, but she’s always been nice to me. The consensus around the Circle is that her legs open more than a refrigerator, but no one really cares or judges. We all have our shit to deal with.

  “Hi Veronica.” Before I can reply, she’s talking to Neal.

  “Neal Chambers, you just get better looking every time I see you.”

  Neal grins down at her. “It’s good to see you too.”

  Her lips purse a bit at his diplomatic answer, then thin into a knowing smile when she looks at me. I have no doubt she’ll be feeding the rumors of mine and Neal’s nonexistent, but nevertheless torrid love affair.

  There are a lot of things I like about our neighbors. Despite it being a poor area where everyone is struggling to get by, they all look out for each other. The downside is you can’t fart without someone racing away to tell the next person how it smelled and sounded. Being the new girl here has been an adjustment, but I think I fit in pretty well.

  Samantha heads over to the group of people sitting in the park, and we make our way over to the keg. The ubiquitous red solo cups are piled beside it, but we detour around it since we have our own bottles.

  We take a seat at the picnic table, along with a few others and watch as a pickup game forms on the basketball court. “It’s getting dark,” I comment. “No way they’re going to be able to see the basket.”

  “Looks like they have that covered,” Neal replies with a chuckle, gesturing to Kenny and Trey, who approach with matching cheesy smiles. They each have a portable spotlight in their hands and a ton of extension cord.

  “Where the hell are you going to plug that in, you idgits?”

  My mouth falls open in shock when I see who asked the question. One of the few neighbors I haven’t met is Darla. She’s over sixty if I had to guess, and probably one of the stranger people I’ve seen here. Every day Darla walks down the circle, passing in front of my apartment, before crossing the street to a small grocery store. That’s not odd in and of itself, but she always wears the same thing: a black, wide brim, floppy sun hat and a tan, calf length trench coat.

  I’ve never seen her in anything else. When I commented on it to Noble once, he chuckled and said, “It doesn’t matter if it’s ten degrees or a hundred, she wears that coat and hat. Just watching her walk down the street like that when the temp is over a hundred and the humidity is sky high makes me sweat.”

  He didn’t have an explanation, but he did tell me it does no good to offer her a ride. She always refuses.

  Trey gives her a wide smile. “We’ll figure it out, Ms. Darla, just you wait.”

  “Do you want a beer?” Neal asks her.

  “Of course I do. I was waiting to see who’d be a gentleman and ask.”

  As he fills up her cup, I introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Veronica. I moved into 207 a few months ago.”

  Darla grins at me, showing a heavily coffee stained set of dentures as she sits beside me. “Nice to meet you. I’ve met your little one. He was with Bailey the last time she took my trash to the curb. Cute little fella. Is he at the community center with the rest of them?”

  “Yeah, and it’s the first time he’s ever been away from home.” I take a swallow of my beer. “And the first break I’ve had in five years,” I add with a grin.

  “Well, enjoy it. Nobody can be a mom all the time. Still got to be a woman. Drink and get laid, because life goes by fast.”

  My beer nearly comes out of my nose, but she doesn’t notice. Her attention is focused down the road. “Oh Lord, there goes Gertie in nothing but her pantyhose. Those no good kids of hers are going to have to do something soon. Dementia has taken over. I’ll get her home.”

  “Let me help you.” She lays a hand on my arm, her trench coat sleeve brushing against me, as I get to my feet to accompany her.

  “Thanks, but it’s not a good idea. She always recognizes me for some reason, but if anyone else approaches her she’ll freak out.”

  Denton gives me a nod when I hesitate, so I sit back down. I don’t want to make things worse.

  “Ow! Get your hand out of my ass!”

  “Your ass is the last place I want my hand! Get my arm lost in there and never get it back. Fucking Bermuda Triangle ass.”

  Everyone turns to watch the show behind us. Trey and Kenny have decided the best way to rig up the lights is to break into the laundry room that’s locked at night to plug in the extension cords. Trey is half out of the window, his rather large posterior bulging in the fading light while Kenny tries to stuff him in further.

  “I can almost reach it! Another inch!” Trey cries. The sight is funny enough, but once he starts kicking his legs, it reminds me of the cartoons where the characters run in place in mid-air before sprinting away.

  Giggles spill out of me, and Neal’s face splits into a grin. “Those two are crazy, but they have more fun than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s probably true. We might be looking at a Winnie the Pooh situation here, though.”

  Trey has managed to plug in the cords and is now trying to squeeze back out of the window. He rocks back and forth until the window squirts him out like toothpaste.

  Everyone cheers, and he flips us off.

  “I thought we were going to have to get some butter,” Denton laughs.

  “Suck my dick, Dent.”

  “Sorry dude, I’m allergic to shrimp.”

  “I’m hung like a horse. Just ask your sister.”

  “I don’t have a sister.”

  “You will in about nine months.” Denton jumps to his feet, and Trey laughs, dodging him and running around.

  It always comes back to “I fucked your mother” jokes with those guys, but even I have to admit, that was funny.

  Emily waves at me as she approaches. Neal is deep in conversation with a few guys about a Dungeons and Dragons group, so I head over to her.

  “Hey, Em, want a beer?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

  “Nah, I’m not going to stay long. I have to be at work early.” Emily works at the local laundromat. I swear, it seems like half the neighborhood has a job cleaning something. Hotel rooms, cars, laundry. Being poor is a dirty job.

  She gestures behind her. “I didn’t want to miss this, though.”

  My gaze follows her hand to find Dennis and Sammy dragging what looks like a large, plastic kiddie pool and a pile of wood behind them. “What are those two idiots doing?” I laugh.

  “No idea. But they’ve been plotting and planning outside my window for a half hour, so I’m sure it’ll be epic.”

  W
e walk into the playground and take a seat on the swings. “I can’t remember the last time I was on a swing,” Emily says, grinning and pumping her feet. Of course, because of Aiden, I’m no stranger to them, and it doesn’t take me long to catch up to her. The cool night air blows my hair back, drying the sweat on the back of my neck. Between that sensation and the beer, it’s like I’m twelve years old again without a care in the world.

  “Can I ask you something?” Emily asks.

  “I think you just did.”

  “Ha ha bitch. Something personal.”

  My feet drag back and forth against the dirt, sending dust billowing through the air, and Emily does the same. “What’s up?”

  “Does the age difference cause problems with you and Neal? Because there’s a guy who comes in my work every week and I can’t seem to get him out of my head. But he’s at least ten years older, and I’m guessing he has at least three kids.”

  Struck down by the rumor mill again. “Neal and I aren’t together.”

  A doubting smile crawls over her face. “Okay, so maybe you can’t give me relationship advice, but how’s the sex? Older guys must be better at it, right?”

  Without intending to, I find myself staring at Neal as he laughs and hangs out with the guys. I must be perving on him longer than I think because Emily laughs and adds, “That’s a yes.”

  “No! I mean, I don’t know. We aren’t sleeping together. We’re just friends.”

  She twists back and forth in the swing like a kid. “Is he gay?”

  “No!”

  “Are you gay?”

  “No!”

  “So, he’s into you, and you’re just clueless. Got it.”

  I glare at her for a moment, and we both break into laughter. “He’s not into me. We’re both on our own with a kid. We help each other out. That’s all.”

  “He’s looking at you like he’d like to help you out of your clothes.”

  Neal and Mitch, another neighbor who lives on the opposite end of the circle start toward us. “Hush. Here he comes,” I whisper.

  “Ladies,” Mitch says. I don’t know him well. The one bedroom apartments are on the opposite end of the circle, and it’s mostly older or disabled people who live in them. Mitch is around fifty-five if I had to venture a guess, but his eyes roam over me like a greedy teenage boy who just learned how to beat off. “We’re going to walk over to the gas station for some cigarettes. Thought you might want to accompany us.”

  “I’ll buy you a candy bar,” Neal teases, grinning at me.

  I grab my bottle from the ground and take the last few swallows of beer. “I’m not a child. I want a slushy, not candy.”

  Neal drains his beer, and everyone tosses them in the trash can as we pass. It’s not a dry county here anymore, but public drinking is still illegal. No matter how old you are, they can bust you for walking down the road with a beer. Technically, the keg and everything is illegal to be out here like this, but our cops are pretty cool. They know us, and as long as no one is starting trouble, they leave us alone.

  The wind picks up, and a shiver runs through me.

  Without a word, Neal pulls off his hoodie and hands it to me.

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

  “And I’m hot. So be warned, it may be a little sweaty.”

  It’s not sweaty, but it smells like him and I hope he doesn’t think he’s ever getting it back.

  The gas station we’re heading to is a five minute walk away. For a split second, I look around for Aiden, then chuckle at myself. It doesn’t escape Neal’s notice, and he smiles at me. “It feels weird to just go…you know?”

  “Do you want me to whine that I can’t find my shoes first?”

  “Might be helpful. And I’ll try to keep you out of traffic.”

  Laughing, he grabs my hand. I’m twenty-three years old. A man holding my hand should not make me blush like a high schooler. It also shouldn’t make my heart speed up, or make me imagine his rough hands in other, far more sensitive places. But it does.

  He keeps his hand in mine as we play Frogger through the thin, nighttime traffic to cross the four lane street. Why isn’t he letting go? Why aren’t I letting go? Why am I making such a big deal over holding his damned hand?

  Maybe because it’s the most action I’ve had in five years.

  His eyes shine under the bright gas station lights, and the words tumble out of my mouth. “Are you drunk?”

  “I’ve had two beers, V,” he scoffs.

  “Good. I don’t want to take advantage. Of your slushy buying generosity, I mean.” Shut up, Veronica. For the love of dick and tater tots, shut up. Not every thought that goes through your head has to spill out your mouth.

  “I’m not drunk. I promise I’ll remember tonight.”

  Are those words as loaded as I hear them?

  “I’m buying you the slushy. It’s completely consensual.”

  “A consensual slushy.” I nod, fighting back a grin. “Sounds perfect.”

  “What the hell are you two going on about?” Mitch asks. “It feels like I’m watching my sister’s kids.”

  “Don’t get your Depends all twisted, Mitch. I’ll buy you a slushy too,” Neal says.

  Emily and I both crack up. I bump my shoulder into his. “Well, now I don’t feel special at all. If you’re buying for everyone.”

  “I’ll get you a large one.”

  “She needs a large one,” Emily announces as we make our way inside the gas station.

  Apparently, Mitch isn’t far off. Take away our kids for a night and we all turn into teenagers. It’s like we’re all just a bunch of children impersonating adults because that’s what’s expected of us.

  We all split up when we get inside as Mitch goes after his cigarettes, and I head to the slushy machine. One beer and I’m already done. Guess maybe I’m an adult after all. After agonizing over raspberry versus cherry, I make a half and half and hunt down Neal.

  “I’ll never understand how they get away with this shit,” he muses, staring at a display in the back.

  “Because none of it is technically illegal, and tweakers’ stolen money is as green as anyone else’s,” I reply dryly.

  Anyone who has grown up in a bad or poor area knows about this stuff. The glass tubes containing a fake rose and Chore Boy cleaning pads that are used to smoke crack and other drugs. The small cans of spray paint next to cheap, white cotton socks used to huff it. I remember wanting one of those little rose tubes when I was a kid, and Mom saying no. I didn’t understand what they were actually used for.

  A skinny woman edges past us to pick up a rose pipe, giving us a hectic, snaggle toothed grin as she walks away.

  We all meet back up in front of the station and start home.

  “That skinny girl was checking you out, Mitch,” Emily teases.

  Mitch shudders and shakes his head. “No thanks. She had summer teeth.”

  “What?”

  “Summer teeth. Some are in her mouth. Some are in her pocket.”

  “Don’t be mean!” Emily exclaims, through a mass of giggles.

  “Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s methamphetamine,” Neal adds.

  Emily and I walk side by side on the way back, chatting about nonsense until Neal says, “What the hell are they doing?”

  Yeah, remember the kiddie pool and pallets Dennis and Sammy were dragging out? The pool is now set up to the side of the basketball court. It’s filled with water, and a pallet is supporting a black, metal, burn barrel in the center.

  A burn barrel.

  Which contains fire.

  “Hey! Come on in!” Dennis shouts. “We made a hot tub!”

  “That is without a doubt the most redneck shit I’ve ever seen in my life,” I announce, as we join the crowd at the edge of the pool.

  “What the hell? Is your family tree a wreath?” Mitch asks.

  “I hate to say it, but it seems to work. You know the rule. It isn’t stupid if it works,” N
eal points out.

  Trey and Kenny both kick off their shoes and step in, laughing at how the barrel sizzles every time the water washes up a little higher on it.

  Neal grins down at me. “What? You don’t want to get in?”

  “Nope, but knock yourself out.”

  A horrible retching sound comes from behind us and we turn to find Samantha puking into the bushes, her man for the night holding back her hair.

  I’ve had about enough of Violent Circle for the night and apparently, Neal has too.

  “Want to watch a movie?”

  “My place,” I agree.

  Chapter Six

  Neal

  Veronica sits back on her couch, sipping her slush. She was so adorable, all freaked out over leaving Aiden. I remember how that felt the first time Bailey slept over at a friend’s house, and couldn’t resist stepping in. Besides, there’s no one else I’d rather spend my childless night with.

  “How did Bailey’s recital go?” she asks.

  “She did fantastic. Never missed a note. Now, that is the last time we’re talking about the kids tonight. I’m instituting a rule.”

  She giggles and folds her legs beneath her. “Deal. I love Aiden to death, but pretending to be young again for a night would be nice.”

  “You’re twenty-three,” I point out, perusing her movie collection. “And you have a lot of stoner movies for someone who doesn’t smoke.”

  She shrugs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I used to smoke, you know, before I got pregnant. It makes me stupid though, so I couldn’t do it and take care of Aiden.”

  “I don’t do it often, and only when Bailey isn’t around.” Grinning, I sit beside her and pull a joint from my pocket. “Kids aren’t here tonight, Ms. Senior Citizen.”

  Her plump lips stretch into a smile. “Says the man pushing forty.”

  “Thirty-three is not pushing forty.”

  She takes the joint and lighter from my hand and sparks it up. “Fine. Pick a movie. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when I lose a hundred IQ points.”

  There are times when I’m sure she knows exactly what that smile and laugh does to me, but the next second I’m convinced she’s completely naïve when it comes to how I see her. How I want her.