by Emilia Finn
“You said that about Shelby.”
My smile turns to a frown. “I did not.”
“Rona?” he asks. “Tracey? What’s that other kid’s name?”
“Heather?”
“Yeah, her! You’re in love with them all.”
“No, I’m not.” I reopen my laptop and type the password to unlock it. “I haven’t told a girl I love her. Ever. Not one single time.”
“Oh, my bad. So you just date a dozen at a time for the fun of it?”
“I date them because I’m searching for the right one.” I point toward the hall. “Kinda positive I found her.”
“Oh sure, if you’re okay with being shanked in the yard. But how about you break it off with the first six before you ask another out?”
I look up from my computer, from the spreadsheet I’ll for sure get an F on, and meet his eyes. “Did you know my mom and daddy were basically in love when they were kids? My mom was six.”
“So what?” He throws his hands up. “What they have was called soulmates and loyalty. What you’re doing is completely different. Back in my day, in my neighborhood, we’d call you puto.”
“Pendejo, I’m a whole decade behind them. That’s a wasted decade.”
Wide-eyed, my Latino sort-of-uncle steps up to my desk and leans onto his elbows to be on my level. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re not… you can’t be serious.”
“Daddy made his claim when he was eight. My mom was six, and shit, it’s been a long time since I was that age. I have some catching up to do.”
“So you date thirty women at once in hopes to find your Iz?”
“Well, not my ‘Iz,’ because she’s my mom and that’s gross. But sure, the theory works. I pick one, I kiss her, then when I don’t feel the thing, I move along. I don’t know what the thing is, Uncle Oz, but I’m certain I’ll know it when I find it.” I lean against the desk and bring the image of the dancing Cam to my mind. “That doesn’t mean I wish to hurt those other girls. It simply means they’re not the one, so I move along. It’s not my fault some of them aren’t ready to let go.”
“Boy, you are seventeen! You don’t need to kiss all the girls in search of a bride. Be normal! Date one chick, maybe go neck up on the hill like everyone else does. You don’t need to marry her before graduation.”
“I will take her up to the hill to neck… once I find her.” I snatch the piles of forms Evie dumped for me to enter into the spreadsheet. “I’m gonna have to find a way to kiss Cam, because I feel like it would be dumb not to.”
“You kiss every damn girl in your school, and you don’t have herpes yet? And now that Smalls has created a tournament, you figure, ‘hot damn, more girls to kiss!’?”
“Just Cam.” I type William Quinn into my spreadsheet. “Just her, because shit, Uncle Oz, when I looked at her, my heart fizzed.”
“Fizzed?” He stands taller and shakes his head; not a no, but to shake some sense in. “What?”
“You know, like how you put a Mento in a bottle of Coke?”
“Kid…”
“I think she’s my Mento, because the second I saw her, my heart was like…” I lift my hands and make some kind of weird motion. “Fizzed. She dropped into my Coke by walking in here, we mixed and reacted, and now I can’t lock it down.”
“You don’t even know her!”
“I know her name is Cameron Quinn. I know she’s a dancer. I suspect she can carry her own in a street fight, but she doesn’t use fists. I know her brother will bathe in my blood if I’m not careful. I wonder if she’s heard of Soph?”
“What about Soph?”
“Dancer, Oz. Catch up. And they kinda have the knife thing in common.”
“What knife thing?”
He’s my uncle. Sort of. But he’s also a cop, and around here, we don’t snitch.
“Nothing. What are the chances of you picking her brother up for a couple hours, and questioning him about something illegal?”
“Dude…”
“He looks the type, right?” I laugh. “And while you’ve got him, I’ll kiss her. Then we’ll know.”
“You’re insane! Sit the fuck down, boy. I think you’ve got a concussion.”
“I am sitting, and my brain is fine. In fact.” I slam my laptop closed and slide it and the paperwork under the desk. Snatching up my phone and a bottle of water, I step around the desk and pass Oz. “It’s time for me to train.”
“You are gonna get yourself killed.”
“I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life wondering.”
“You’re loco! She’s a kid.”
“She’s my age. A minor. William said so.”
“You wanna mess with that family, Kincaid?” Oz hustles along the hall to keep up with me. “Seriously? You wanna bag this girl and live the rest of your life wondering when he’s gonna take you out?”
“He wants his sister to be safe. I know what he feels, because I have a sister too.”
“Yeah, and how many times have you wanted to kill Mac, huh?”
“None.” I stop at the top of the hall and stay behind the wall when I spot Cam sitting across the room. Her knees are drawn up, her toes tapping the floor to the beat of the music while Will skips. “Mac has never wanted to disrespect Bean. He would step in front of a bus to save her. Not even a stupid brother would take that away.”
“So you reckon Quinn will see that you’re gonna protect his baby, and voila, you’re in?”
“Well, first I’m gonna kiss her. Then we’ll see what happens.”
“Ya know what?” Oz steps away when his daughter passes through the room in yoga pants, drawing dozens of male eyes. “You can deal with your own shit.”
“Yeah, you’ve got your own problems,” I laugh. “Go, Papi. Save the day, toss her back into her tower. And while you do that, I’ve gotta go spar with William.”
“Dude!” Oz spins back with a face almost as white as Cam’s got. “You can’t spar with him! I mean, I love you, kid. And I know you were born a champion, but there’s skill, and then there’s jailyard strength. You gotta learn which is which.”
“It’s gonna be okay.”
I slide my phone into my back pocket, fist the bottle of water in my left hand, then I meander across the room like this is any regular day.
Will skips double unders with perfect precision. Not a single stumble, not a single mess-up. And while he does that, Cam taps her knee and mouths the words to the song playing over the stereo. She watches her brother, but really, I think she sees nothing. She’s far away in her mind. Daydreaming, choreographing, counting steps.
I pass a small group of wannabes as they congregate around my sister and beg her for training tips. Small but mighty. Lean but strong. I pass my Uncle Bobby as he spars with someone in the boxing ring, and then my Uncle Aiden as he studies everybody in this room. He’s counting, making sure we’re all behaving, making sure no one besmirches the Kincaid name by acting a fool.
He sees Will – it’s hard not to. The dude is big, but more than that, there’s something about him. A hardness that even my arrogance knows to bow down to. He’s about my Uncle Bobby’s size, a true heavyweight, and more muscle than manners. But he’s behaving, minding his own business and counting skips, so Aiden moves along.
I move closer, passing right in front of him — because, fuck, to be a man, I need to stand up and accept a clip on the jaw if I deserve it. I stop in front of Cam so my toes touch hers, and when she snaps out of her daydream with a start, I grin and savor the way her cheeks warm. “Hey there.”
“Are you suicidal?” She goes back to staring at her knees with a gentle shake of her head. “Go away, Secretary.”
“Can I sit with you?”
“No you cannot,” Will grunts out and continues to skip. “You’re gonna want to move along before I paint the wall with your gray matter.”
“He’s violent.” I press my back to the wall and slide down until Cam and I touch shoulder to hip. I meet her eyes an
d grin. “Seriously, he’s mean.”
“He’s a realist. You’re looking to score something fast and loose from this tournament. Everyone goes home in a week, and you’re free and clear from the consequences of your frolicking.”
“I don’t frolic.” I lay my head back and close my eyes. “Frolicking is for puppies. What I do is…”
“Sowing your seeds?” she volunteers. “Ploughing your field? Fucking everything with wet thighs?”
“You got a mouth on you, huh?” I turn my head to the left and meet her eyes. “You’re seventeen. You shouldn’t speak like that.”
“I’m a realist too. I could say you’re looking for romance, but a spade’s a spade, right? Let’s keep our shit real, and save everyone time and trouble.”
“I’m not looking to fuck you over, literally or figuratively.”
“Everyone wants to fuck people over.” She pushes to her feet with a grunt and turns to back Will away when he gives up on skipping, and instead looks like he might strangle me with his rope. “It’s a dog eat dog world, Secretary. Fuck or be fucked. Kill or be killed.”
“Not here it’s not.” I look around my gym, taking in the guys who haven’t paid a cent to be here, and yet, they’re being trained by world champions. “Sometimes, folks aren’t looking to hurt others. Sometimes, they really do just wanna hang out and kiss a little.”
“So find a dog and pucker up. I’m sure you’d know what that’s like. Let’s go, Will.” She turns and pushes her brother’s chest. “We’ll run.”
Will’s eyes drill into the top of my head. Angry, venomous, mean, but then Oz steps closer, and he pulls himself together. “Stay away, kid. There are only so many ways I can warn you before shit gets messy.”
Cam
That Went Well
“You need to stay away from that guy, Bubbles.”
Will and I step out of our run-down hotel room not five minutes after stepping inside. But now, instead of jeans, I wear compression tights and a sweater so I can run.
We pass room twelve, Miles and Will catch each other’s eyes, they do the head nod that guys do, then we move along and count doors. Ten, nine, eight.
We grow tenser as we approach and pass three and its occupant comes to his door. He leans against the doorframe, cracks his neck and stares into my damn soul, then smirks when Will snatches me up and shoves me to his other side.
“Will.” I grab his arm when he slows to square up to the guy. “Will!” I drag him toward the stairs and breathe a sigh of relief when I get one foot on the steps, then the next. My workout has nothing to do with the run we’re about to take, and everything to do with getting Will out of fights. “Let’s go.”
“Hi there, little girl.” Number Three sucks on his teeth, and lets his beady eyes roam my body. “Nice day for a jog.”
“Shut up. Will.” I drag him down one step, then another. Slowly, torturously. The moment my feet touch the concrete path at the bottom, I drag him around the corner of the building and break the electric current sizzling between the two men. “You need to stop that!”
“I’m running out of eyes, Bubbles.” Shaking the guy off, Will turns back into my brother; the sweet, kind of goofy guy, instead of the guy folks could accuse of being a killer. “I only have two hands, two eyes. And your admirers are multiplying.”
“I literally have no clue what you want me to do, Will.” I start jogging as soon as we touch the asphalt. “I mind my own business, I keep to myself.”
“You provide this temptation,” he counters. “The fact you’re too damn young is only an added bonus for them.”
“So, what? You want me to join a nunnery until I’m thirty?”
“Actually, is that a legit offer? Because I could get on board with it.”
“No!” I slap his arm and hiss when it hurts. “It’s snowing, Will! Why the eff are we running?”
“You’re the one who suggested we run!” he laughs. “No, William, you can’t strangle that scrawny kid. No, Will, you can’t slam his head against a wall. No, Will, you can’t have any fun at all.”
“I wouldn’t be sad if you slammed Three’s head against a wall, but that other one, the secretary, you need to cool your shit on that.”
“You like him?”
“No! I don’t even know him.”
“So why do I have to cool it?”
“Because he’s a minor.” I try to even my breathing as we approach Main Street. “Because he’s not a thirty-year-old convict, but a guy my age. And he’s got cops in his pockets. We can’t mess with that.”
“I hope you’ll keep that in mind every time he approaches you.” Will’s breath comes out in white fog as snow drifts to the earth and settles in his hair. “He has cops, and he has ties to a gym that we want to have a good relationship with. We’re here to fight, to win, to take home the purse. Not for romance.”
“Oh, so I won’t mention that girl you were watching while you were skipping?”
I laugh when Will’s feet slip in the snow and his arms come up in preparation to catch himself. “What the hell are you talking about? What girl?”
“Not really a girl,” I tease. “A woman. A beautiful, exotic, shy woman. I didn’t realize that was your type, big brother. But hell, I’m here for it.”
“I literally have no clue what you’re talking about. But you’re grounded for sassing me.”
I throw my head back and laugh at the mortification in his voice. “I’m an observer. It’s kind of my thing. And I observed the hell out of you observing her butt.”
“You’re seeing things,” he huffs. “I’m in that gym to work, not to scam on chicks.”
“I didn’t say you were scamming. Just losing yourself in her while you skip.” I bring a hand up to my throat and feel for my pulse. “We all know skipping sucks, but if you can focus on something else, anything else, the timing gets smoother, and the clock on the wall doesn’t drag quite as slowly.”
“You’re projecting. Let’s talk about that scrawny guy again.”
“He wasn’t scrawny.” We pass a sinful-smelling bakery that almost brings me to my knees. “He’s not as big as you, but that doesn’t make him small. Add in that he’s seventeen, and it means he has more to grow into.”
“Cameron Quinn!” Will grabs my arm and swings me back so fast that my feet momentarily leave the ground. “You’d better put your eyes back in your head, but spin them around so you can look at your brains and not boys.”
“You’re so dramatic. And we’re standing outside a bakery that I’d be willing to go to prison for. Let’s move.”
“If I find his lips puckered at any time while you’re in the same room, I’ll take him out.”
“He might like that. Dinner, wine, roses. He has a thing for our chin, so I’m sure he’ll grow to appreciate yours when you take him out.”
“Fuckin’ sass.” He takes off jogging again and slows only to give me his angry look until I catch up. “We’re here one day, and you’ve got a new best friend in twelve, an admirer in three, and a boyfriend in the gym.”
“Not my boyfriend. Though I won’t lie to you and say he ain’t cute.”
“Cam!”
I slip in the snow when I laugh, and almost forget to look into the street before crossing. “Saying he’s good-looking isn’t a crime, ya know? I’ve had boyfriends before, and you never went ballistic.”
“Where are they now, Bubbles? Oh right, they disappeared because they were looking at you.”
“Oh please, Al Capone. Calm down before you give yourself a heart attack. Oh look.” I slow outside a brick building with silhouettes of ballerinas in the window. “Ellie Solomon Dance Academy. Will!” I sprint off the sidewalk and cross the frozen grass to press my face to the glass doors. “I’ve heard of this place.”
“We can’t afford this yet, Bubbles.” He remains on the sidewalk, and drags oxygen into his puffed chest. “Give me one more week, and I’ll make all your dreams come true. But I can’t win if I don’t tra
in.”
“It’s so beautiful.” My breath fogs up the window, so I take a step to the left and look through that spot. “There’s no one in there right now.” I frown. “It’s the middle of a workday. Why is it closed?”
“Maybe Ellie Solomon is busy. Come on,” he calls, “my heart rate is slowing.”
“I’m coming.” I literally have to peel myself away from the window. Away from the world I would give my soul to be a part of.
Moving over the slippery grass and stopping beside Will, I continue to study the glass with longing. “One day, Will. One day, I’ll have my own studio. They’ll come to me, and ask to dance with me because I’m so effing good at it.”
“Then I’ll have all the dancing guys to fight off too,” he jokes. “Come on, we have shit to do.”
I begin jogging again. “I read about this place.” Gone is the talk about a certain gym guy, and gone is the discussion about the woman my brother may or may not have been checking out, and in its place is the memory of the stories I saw on the news. “Ellie Solomon is dead,” I tell Will.
He frowns. “It says ‘Ellie’ on the window.”
“I know. But she died a long time ago. The studio is named for Ellie, but her sister is the one who runs it.”
“Sophia?”
I look to him with wide eyes. “Tell me you met her last night. Tell me, Will!”
He laughs. “I totally did. For only a sec, but I could tell it was her.”
“How?” I plead. “How could you tell?”
“You mean apart from the way her legs bow the wrong way from all the time she spends on her toes?” He shrugs. “She told me her name.”
“Oh my god! You spoke to her? What was she like? Is she nice? Is she a hag? I almost think I want a hag. Ya know, make the journey hard, my teacher can tell me to quit a billion times, but I rise up under adversity anyway.”
“Dramatic,” he huffs as we cross the road and head toward a lake. “She was nice enough. Not chatty or anything, but she wasn’t a Miss Trunchbull, tossing kids over fences either.” He turns to me and grins. “Sex on legs, that’s what she is.”