by Ashley Munoz
I smiled, turning toward her, then focused on the road. I liked her journalist face, how her dark brows dipped toward the center of her forehead and her eyes narrowed, the side of her lip hitched. It made me want to ask her questions or draw my answers out just so I could keep that expression on her face.
“You know how most fraternities have rush week, where they let new pledges see behind the curtain a bit, then there’s the pledging?”
“Yeah.” She wrote down a few things in her notebook.
“Well, we basically throw a huge party, a massive rager, but the only people invited are the ones who are current team members, or previously graduated team members. No one from the outside. This is absolute law.” I looked over again, finding her furiously writing. “Do you want to record what I’m saying or anything?”
She let out a small laugh and dug for her phone. “I have no idea why I am so off when I’m around you. That was a rookie move.” She shook her head while sliding her thumb across the screen of her phone.
“Off? You mean how you ditched me the other night out of nowhere?” I made sure my tone was teasing, but in all honesty, I wanted to know why she’d left. I hated how it’d felt, especially after it seemed so cool between us before that.
“It worked out for you, didn’t it? I saw Taylor take my spot as soon as I left. Besides, you got all weird when she called us out for fighting over the chips. I obviously made you uncomfortable.”
I laughed. This fucking chick.
“Uncomfortable? No…far from it, I was actually about to…” Shit, it wasn’t like I could tell her I had been about to put Taylor in her place or trash her for not loving the best kind of tortilla chip ever invented.
“About to what?”
I looked over, caught that verdant gaze, and let out a sigh. Maybe I should just come clean…“I was about to make fun of her for not liking lime-flavored chips, that’s all.”
“Hmmm, right.” Mallory turned to look out the window, and the fact that she didn’t seem to believe me just rubbed me wrong.
“You don’t believe I would have said anything to her?”
A heavy sigh and she was back looking my way. “I saw the way you two looked when I went into my room. Say whatever you want, but I know guys like you. You may say you want her to eat like a dude and be chill, but you’ll never complain as long she’s rocking that tiny waist.”
Wow. Just…fucking wow.
I didn’t respond to her comment because I wasn’t even sure what to say. She’d judged me so easily, thinking she knew me, but she didn’t. I hated the strange feeling it stirred in me…and maybe if I spoke and eased the tension in the truck, it wouldn’t feel so personal.
“I don’t know what you saw the other night, but Taylor stayed on her phone through the movie. I even tried to talk to her a few times, but she didn’t seem interested at all. I have no idea what I did wrong or if she just doesn’t like guys like me, but nothing happened.”
I looked over toward her side of the truck, but she wasn’t watching me. I wished I could have seen her face, seen if her eyes went wide when she heard that, or if she even cared. I hated that I wanted her to.
“As far as your comment regarding her waist size…well, no offense, but fuck that. Not all guys are the same, and not all guys have the same taste in women.”
It was silent for a few miles, until her small breath filled the cab and I heard a soft apology. It was sweet, sincere, but I knew it was hard for her just the same. There was more we both wanted to say; I knew that much. I knew if we didn’t have to talk shop, we’d fill the silence with why each of us cared about that night and how it ended, but we didn’t.
“How does Elias fit into all this?” she suddenly asked.
I waited, unsure I wanted to venture into this territory yet. I fucking hated him, but I didn’t want to explain his role in the game, or how I knew so much about him.
“Elias is the captain of the Devils. He is aware of the games, picks the dates for them and helps configure who gets what base based on the bid the player puts in…but it’s rare for him to participate. He was scouted early in college, and because of that he’s actually pretty careful about hooking up with girls. He’s too worried about attracting a jersey chaser, someone looking to poke a hole in the condom.”
It was quiet for a few moments while she jotted a few notes down in her notebook. Every now and then she’d pause and scratch her eyebrow with the cap of the pen.
“Have you participated?” she asked, and I caught sight of her reddening face before she added, “I mean besides with me, have you at least gone and partied, maybe not picked a girl but partied with them?”
I lightly pressed my foot to the brake, getting ready to verge off the freeway, considering for a second all the rejection I felt layered on my shoulders from the past year or so.
“I hang at the house when I need to, but I don’t go to the parties anymore. I used to though.”
“Why don’t you go anymore? I thought it was an honor or something for the team.” Her curiosity was genuine and showed that she hadn’t heard my story or even dug around enough to know what position I had previously played on the Devils. That both intrigued and pained me.
“When I was a freshman and a sophomore, I enjoyed the parties because I helped deliver the cards. I also helped with the names…most of the players don’t know who was picked, just as much as the girl doesn’t know who’s waiting in that room. There’s a roster of girls they pick from, then the lowerclassmen decide the rest.”
“That’s horrible. There are just so many layers to this that would eventually blow up.” Mal brought her hands to her face and shook her head.
“Keep in mind, these are girls who have filled out a form saying they’d one day like to be selected. They’re asked to select what base number they’re comfortable with and if they have any previous negative experiences with anyone on the team.”
“Well I guess that’s something.” She returned to her notebook, bending over it to scribble more notes.
Trees passed by as we made our way toward my home. The closer we got, the more nervous I became. She would meet Kyle…my mom if she was home. She’d see my childhood home.
“So, can I ask what’s in it for the team members?”
I turned to catch the expression on her face, feeling my walls go up.
“Why do you follow the rules, live in the house…play the card game? Surely this isn’t how normal teams function.”
She wasn’t wrong, considering the team acted more like a secret society than anything else, but this was something outsiders didn’t know about.
I gripped the wheel, locking my jaw.
“Sorry, that was probably a question that is too personal.” Mal crossed something out on her notepad.
“No.” Fuck, was I really about to say this? “It’s just that the team…once you’re accepted, there’s a certain amount of protection you have as a member. They may treat you like shit or even stab you in the back, but if you need anything, they’ll do it, for the rest of your life. A loan on a house, a job—whatever you need, they’ll do it. You’re essentially getting inducted into a brotherhood.”
I wanted to look over, see if she had the pinched look or if she was glaring. Did it make me a coward to be so loyal to a team that likely knew about Elias’s plan to kill my chances at going pro? Maybe, but no matter how hard I dug, there was never any proof I could find.
I could tell she wanted to ask more, but she moved on to her next question with the grace and fluidity of a seasoned reporter. I felt relaxed and comfortable talking with her as long as it didn’t revolve around my relationship with E, or my major downfall from the team.
We passed the city limits of my hometown, slowing to nearly twenty miles per hour. It gave the reporter next to me plenty of time to gather all the details she wanted. Old brick buildings lined either side of the white sidewalks. Flower baskets hung every few feet, providing bursts of color, and tourists were mingling and
shuffling in and out of storefronts.
“Cute town.”
I nodded then rolled our windows down so we could hear the chatter, feel the cool breeze that came off the nearby river. There was some kind of banjo and guitar medley making its way through the streets, likely coming from one of the nicer restaurants down the way. They often had live music throughout the day as long as it wasn’t raining.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” Her face was turned toward the town outside her window.
“Where are you from?” I slowed for a few tourists passing the crosswalk.
“Greensboro, actually…not too far from here. Back when it was just my dad and me, we used to travel to all the local places we could find. He could never afford much time off work or a big trip, so we’d stay close.” She straightened, turning toward me. Her eyes were bright as she remembered her younger years. The way her white teeth flashed and that nose crinkled…
Fuck.
“I remember this one trip…I was eleven, I think. He was trying extra hard to lift my spirits because some girls had been making fun of the fact that my mom died. Kids are cruel—don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. Anyway…” She waved her hand and pushed some of that unruly hair behind her ears. “He was trying hard to make the weekend something that would take my mind off school. He must have traded work or something because the next day, he drove us hours away—it was the first time we’d ever gone that far—and we ended up going near some mountains. I wish I remembered where, but there was this cabin…the outside looked like a fairy tale with these lights strung up everywhere. It was small, only two twin-sized beds and a wood stove inside, but the river behind it was magical. We spent the entire weekend fishing and hiking, and at night, he’d act out parts of my favorite Disney movies. We’d eat Pop-Tarts in the morning, and he let me have as many smores as I wanted.”
I laughed softly, imagining a smaller version of Mallory smiling up at the night sky, those lights strung up and her dad making her smile. It made my chest ache. My dad had been like that too. He was good to us kids, always making memories that would haunt us for all of time.
“So, are you and your dad still close like that? He sounds pretty cool.” I flicked the turn signal and stopped at a red light. We were almost to my mom’s, and I wanted just a little more time with this girl who was starting to make me feel things I never thought I’d feel.
Her heavy sigh made my gut sink.
“No. He ended up patenting some technology used in mechanic shops all around the world. I don’t fully understand it, but it’s like one of those scanners you plug into your car to figure out what’s wrong…well, my dad created a different version that takes it further, explaining what parts you’ll need and then finding local stores who have the parts in stock. It does other things too, can read machines other than just cars—this thing can read aircraft parts, household appliances, even NASA has started using it. It’s revolutionized the industry…or so they say,” she added wistfully, turning her head toward the retreating town.
My mind was spinning. I knew what she was talking about…my dad had ranted about the new technology that had come out a few years before he passed, saying it had changed everything for anyone trying to save a dollar or two on fixing their car.
“Your dad is Charles Shaw?”
Holy shit.
I knew her dad was rich, a big deal…but I hadn’t connected the dots.
Another sigh left her chest. “Yeah…but he used to be just Charlie, back before he’d made his millions. I guess it’s probably billions now, but I try not to check.”
“So, the stepsister…” I edged because it was starting to come together for me. Taylor and Mallory were night-and-day different. Mallory had work ethic, she wore non-designer clothes, her car was older…and Taylor seemed completely opposite. It was why I hadn’t been eager to fuck her when I read her file about how shallow she was, back when I thought she was her sister.
“Dad met Jackie when I was fifteen. She and Taylor were like tornados in our lives, and I often felt like Cinderella, except Taylor wasn’t always horrible—she had a really messed up childhood. She did try, and through the years, she’s gotten so much better. But…the money changed everything for us. Suddenly Dad and I went from eating McDonald’s on our splurge nights to paying a hundred and fifty dollars a plate in restaurants too glitzy and glamorous for my ripped jeans and Converse. I never grew out of that phase we’d started before he made his money, but Taylor grew with it…she was the easier daughter to show off when investors came to town or when people wanted his family at black-tie events. The older I got, the more I hated that world. Taylor fit within it perfectly, and well…Dad does now too.”
This was…not what I had expected at all.
“That’s really shitty. I’m sorry you lost your pops.” And for whatever reason, I reached over and tugged her hand into mine, squeezing it tight because I’d lost my dad too and I knew how painful that was. Even if hers was alive and well, the version she’d grown up with had died when he made his money. It was when she squeezed back that I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I was going to have to walk away from Mallory once I got my revenge on Elias, because there was no way she’d give me a shot after I slept with her stepsister. Maybe it made me a prick for wanting to eat my cake and have it too…but fuck.
Chapter Seventeen
I slammed the truck door shut, peering up at the two-story farmhouse-style home. It was weathered with its faded white paint and chipped splotches along the window panes. Flower boxes hung in front of the three lower windows, but there was nothing but dirt and a few old weeds inside each one.
Gravel crunched under my shoes as I followed Decker toward the house. The silence around us was heavy and it almost felt…like death. Like something here had died and now it was just a mausoleum.
“D!” a loud voice boomed from one of the top windows.
I looked up, but with the screen in place, I couldn’t see anything.
Decker just smiled and kept moving forward, pulling the screen door open and holding it for me.
“I’m glad you agreed to take a break from being Nancy Drew for a bit.” Decker smiled at me as I passed by him into the foyer of his childhood home…at least, I was assuming this was his childhood home. The way he looked at it with such reluctance and affection, it seemed there were memories here that were precious to him.
“Yeah, me too. I’d like to help you, if you want, or I could just hang out. I think a mental break would be good for me though.”
The small entryway was barely a square of linoleum with a braided rug thrown down. A pair of soft blue shoes were neatly sitting by the door, and that was it. No jackets or other shoes, no coat rack. A foot off to the side looked like the start of a staircase covered in worn, brown carpet.
It smelled like old leather, vanilla, and…hairspray.
“Come on, I want you to meet my—”
“D! I didn’t think you’d be here this weekend. Can you give me a ride to the country club?” a tall, younger version of Decker came jogging down the stairs. He was the kid in the framed photo I saw in Decker’s apartment. His eyes lit up when he saw me standing there, a smile erupting on his face as he closed the distance between his perch on the stairs and the last step.
“Kyle, this is Mallory. Mallory, this is Kyle, my younger brother.”
“Hey.” Kyle ran his hand over his head, giving me a sexy smirk.
Oh gosh. This kid was cute.
Sixteen-year-old me was totally screaming inside at how adorable he was being.
“Is this the one…you know, the one you mentioned?” Kyle asked, and I tried not to spin toward Decker to see his expression. The strangled coughing sound from the chest at my back told me enough.
“Why do you need to go to the club?” Decker changed the subject and moved us farther into the house. His hand landed on my hip, pushing me forward.
There was an older blue couch that framed the room
and two recliners facing the flat screen along the adjacent wall. It was comfortable; it felt like a home, and all I wanted to do was curl up under one of the throw blankets and take a nap.
“It’s this thing…complicated, but there’s a lot of money to be made. Just trust me.” Kyle pleaded with Decker while the two went into the kitchen. There was a counter separating the space from the dining room, a small island in the middle, and a big bright window that faced the backyard. I instantly loved it.
Walking toward the large glass doors along the back wall, I saw the yard, and my mouth gaped. Directly outside the French doors was a paved patio with hanging lights that draped over a small table and four chairs. Beyond that was rich green grass, running for what seemed like half a mile. It butted up against a stone retaining wall. To the side was a patch of gravel in the shape of a circle with a charcoal pit in the center, low Adirondack chairs littered around the white rocks, a few with throw blankets on them. An old swing set sat forgotten along the back side of the house, along with a few other old toys. I could see a few bats, a few baseballs, and even a few weather-worn gloves.
“Geez,” I murmured, my breath fogging up the window.
The boys in the kitchen went silent.
Suddenly there was a throat clearing behind me, a warm presence at my back. “Our dad had a landscaping business…before…” He cleared his throat again like he was trying to force the words out.
A bone-deep awareness skittered down my spine. It was like a third eye blinking open and being able to see what my natural eyes could not: the silent but gaping wound of grief. Decker was bleeding out from it. His dad was gone, like my mom was…like my dad now was.
On instinct, I reached back, grabbed his hand like he’d done with me in the truck, and squeezed. He didn’t need to say it out loud. Sometimes confessing that a parent is gone is like admitting that one is alone. It was just easier not to say it out loud, not to give words to that piece of us that was now missing and that we’d never get back.