by Emilia Finn
My legs feel like jelly, my brain foggy and slow. But my grin… mmm… my grin creeps up and stays as Cam soothes the sting on my lip with her sweet tongue. She grins like a lazy cat, pleased with herself, pleased with the pleasure she took for herself, the pleasure she gave me in return.
For several minutes, we simply rest. We catch our breath, we kiss, and touch, and breathe. We share this space, this moment, and we lock it away somewhere deep in our hearts, a special memory that we’ll be able to tug out at any time and think back on with a smile.
“We had a week,” she finally whispers. “One week to create the kind of love that would go down in infamy.”
Slowly, I lower her down until her feet touch the floor and her breath comes out on a soft hiss. I slide out of her body, slowly, gently, and drop to my knees to help her with her jeans.
“Did we do it?” I gently tap her thigh to get her to lift her leg.
Glancing up when she doesn’t answer, I study her glassy eyes. “Quinn?”
“Yeah.” She reaches down and cups my bruised jaw. “Yeah, we did it.”
Day one of Stacked Deck flies by on a blur. From my debut fight, to my time in the closet with Cam, then escaping the closet and ducking Will, to pretending we have no clue where that guy’s mouthguard disappeared to, to my second fight – I won – and back to the closet, but only for kissing, for touching, for whispering sweet words and making promises that we hope to never break. Then back to the octagon for me – I won again – to watching Ben beat Kyle Baker’s ass just twenty seconds into their fight, and then for Will to help Evie eject that prick from the club when he – Kyle – claimed he wanted a rematch.
We watched Will step up for his fight and beat some dude I’ve never met. Bean fought – she won – Evie fought – she also won – then it was back to the octagon for me toward the end of the day – that one I lost – but then I walked out of the cage and caught Cam mid-jump when she tossed herself into my arms.
So really, I won.
It’s like a movie set on fast forward. Like the clock Cam and I set for ourselves a week ago now mocks us and races faster and faster. An hour feels like a minute. The day feels like a blink.
Day one of the tournament ends on a high note, and there are rumblings in the air about a dance recital on day two. About my dad and sister making up. They’re not talking yet, but there are whispers it’s coming, there’s hope in the air.
At the end of the second day – I didn’t have to fight, because of last night’s loss – Cam and I race toward my car, hands linked, laughter echoing among the voices of a hundred other fighters. We dive in and race across town to the Ellie Solomon Dance Academy on Evie’s strict instructions.
‘Get there, be quiet about it, sit down, and shut your pieholes.’
“This is so exciting.” Sitting in the darkness in the front row – but not quite center, since Evie, Grandma, Mom, and my aunts are filling those seats – Cam sits right beside me, and whispers close to my ear. Her arms wrap around mine, her fingers twine with mine. She rests her cheek on my shoulder, but her smile pushes her face up. “I’m gonna see a real-life recital.”
“Let’s not discount Sleeping Beauty,” Will grumbles from the seat behind ours. “I did that for you, Bubbles. Don’t forget me.”
She snickers against my arm, but reaches back to pat her brother’s head. “I won’t forget. Love you, Will.”
“Come sit with me,” he whispers. “I’m lonely.”
“I’m gonna stay here,” she whispers back. “Front row, remember? I have to sit front row. Do you think she’ll use my suggestion on that lift?” she asks me. “I mean, I won’t be offended if she doesn’t. It’s her routine, not mine, so it’s okay. But do you—”
“I think my sister is going to put on an amazing show. She’ll make all the women cry.” I nod along our row to my mom. To Grandma. My aunts. “I think she’s going to blow everyone away. And I think if she uses your move, that would be really cool.”
“I won’t be mad if she doesn’t,” Cam rushes out. “I swear I won’t.”
“Okay.” I turn and press a kiss to the top of her head. “I believe you.”
“I won’t! I think it’s just really cool that this is happening at all.”
“Like I said,” I grin. “I believe you.”
After a few minutes of nervous whispering and excited giggling while we sit in the dark and wait, Dolly – a woman we know as Sophia’s receptionist – steps onto the stage and ushers a bunch of pre-schoolers away. The same pre-schoolers Bean and Cam danced with earlier this week.
Dolly steps to the podium with a motherly smile, wearing heels that are going to be the reason she breaks her neck, and nails so long, I have no clue how she uses the bathroom. Her hair is almost black, but is laced with neon highlights that play off the stage lights.
“She’s the one you’ve all been waiting for.” She smiles, and Cam literally begins to shake from excitement. “Lucy Kincaid, our star pupil and most devoted dancer. Lucy has been working all year, choreographing her own routine, and teaching it to several others simply because it makes her happy to teach.”
“Me!” Cam squeaks on a whisper. “She taught me!”
“Shh.” Laughing under my breath, I press a kiss to her hair and absorb the way my heart sighs, and pounds, and yearns, and smiles.
I might have done it.
I set out when I was a child to find the one I’ll spend my life with. I kissed a lot of… well… I guess frogs would be an appropriate analogy; I had to apologize to a lot of women for their perceived heartbreaks. I had to hide from others, because they wanted more than one kiss.
And then I had to convince one to give us a go.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Cam whispers. “Stop it.”
“I love you.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her in so tight that Will growls behind us. I rest my lips by her ear, my hand over her heart. “I love you, Cam.”
She melts against my chest and brings my hand up to press a kiss to the palm. “I love you too.”
“…months away from graduating college,” Dolly continues. “She was, until this day, an undefeated, full-contact fighter, and she fought last night, such is her devotion to the sporting world. Please, if you’ll welcome her to the stage, put your hands together and show her a little love.”
Our crowd sits taller and applauds as the music begins to play. Jay-Z and Linkin Park’s deep bass sends a zing of electricity pulsing in the air, and though the curtains remain drawn for a moment, our applause continues, the music continues, until finally, the curtains make way, and Bean stumbles onto the stage with an expression that says she might want to puke.
She stands without posture. Her shoulders hunched, her eyes down. She presses a hand to her stomach to fight the nerves, but her music continues, and nothing happens.
“She should have already started,” Cam whispers urgently. “Jamie!”
“Give her a sec,” I murmur back. “It’s okay.”
“She missed her cue!”
“Relax.” I press a kiss to her wrinkled brow, but in my mind, I scream, Start, Bean! Dance!
From the opposite side of the stage, Mac steps into view, and sets off a chain reaction of quiet whispers among the audience.
“Where’s that other guy?” Cam whispers. “Her dance partner?”
I only shrug and watch as Mac makes his way to Bean in nothing more than sweatpants and a goofy grin.
Finally, the buzzing voices of the audience taper off when Bean steps away from Mac and appears to at least be doing something that implies a dance is coming soon. She searches for a space on the floor, an invisible X that marks the spot. She stops, draws a heaving breath into her lungs, lets it out again, then shakes her head.
Her lips move, she says something as she peeks over at Mac, but her words are completely drowned out by the music that continues to play.
Mac steps toward her, he stops behind Bean, places one hand on her ribs, the ot
her on her stomach.
I should be mad that this guy has his hands on my sister, I should be fucking pissed, because I know they’ve spent time in bed together this week, but his touch helps calm her. His whispered replies to whatever she’s saying helps bring her away from freaking out.
I turn in my seat, and try to look into Will’s eyes despite the dark. “See how I’m not smashing his head in for touching her? Learn from me.”
“No,” he grunts. “But thanks for the head-smashing suggestion. I’ll use that next time.”
“Stop it,” Cam hisses. She yanks me back around to face the front, but grabs onto my aching jaw and forces me to meet her eyes. “Stop antagonizing my brother.”
I smile, because she’s so fucking beautiful. “But it’s a bunch of fun.”
“Yeah, and now your face hurts. Watch the dance.”
I duck forward and slap a noisy kiss to her lips while Will’s growl plays out in the air behind us. “Love you, Quinn. And I love your butt chin too. I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”
“Hush!” But she melts into me. “Love you too. Oh!”
Mac pushes Bean into the first step of her dance.
“It’s wrong,” Cam squeaks. “It’s wrong. He started at the wrong time.”
And her leg hurts.
Cam thinks about the steps, but all I can see is the purpling bruise on my sister’s thigh – a souvenir from her fights yesterday. I see the hobble in her steps. The ache in her eyes.
“Jamie!” Cam hisses. “Fix it for her!”
“I can’t fix it for her.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. It looks like a hug, but this is the only way I can hold my girl down and demand she watch, rather than participate. “Bean’s okay. She always takes care of business.”
“Always?”
“Always.” I press a kiss to her temple and smile as Bean gives a jerky nod, and the music is reset.
My sister stands in the center of the stage with her eyes closed. Jay-Z starts again, and boom! Mac spins my sister into oblivion.
“She used my move!” Cam floats as my family thrusts themselves up from their seats and gives my sister a standing ovation. “She did it, Jamie! She used it.”
“He nearly dropped Bean on her face!” And yet, I stand and applaud with everyone else. “She was nearly a pancake face.”
“He did not nearly drop her!” Cam wraps her arm around mine, but still manages to clap along with everyone else. “It’s exactly how she choreographed it. Shit, Jamie.” She reaches up and wipes a hand beneath her eye. “She did it.”
“And she used your move.”
“I know!” She squeaks so loud that even Will chuckles. “She did it! I nearly wet myself from happiness. For the first time in my life, someone used my move, and I got to sit in the audience and watch it.”
A heavy hand slams down on my right shoulder and draws my head around like a whip. It feels like I’m being called up to fight, but when I turn, all I find is Will… grinning.
He nods.
That’s all I get. A half a grin and a nod, but somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain, I feel like he’s saying thank you.
Because maybe he took Cam to Sleeping Beauty once, and that was a cool dream come true for her. But tonight, she got to experience another. She got to choreograph – even if it was only a single move, a tweak on a move my sister had already choreographed – but if it counts in Cam’s mind, then it counts in mine too.
I nod back. I vow to continue making her dreams come true.
Then, hugging Cam to my side, I turn back to the stage just in time to watch my sister fall into our dad’s arms and sob against his chest.
Their hug has been a week coming, and shit, the way she cries makes my eyes itch a little bit.
“I’m so in love with tonight,” Cam croons. She takes my hand and places it over her heart. “I don’t even know this family, but I’m glad she got to hug her daddy.”
She thinks she doesn’t know us.
She has no clue that she is now, and forevermore, one of us.
Jamie
It’s Coming
Cam and I walk hand in hand along Main Street on December twenty-sixth. Two days after the tournament ended and she and Will were supposed to leave town. Two whole days of borrowed time – borrowed, but I’ll never give it back.
Surprisingly, the snow is basically non-existent today. There are still sludge piles in the gutters, some on top of roofs, but the sky is clear, and so is the ground we walk on.
“Do you want ice cream before you go?”
Silently, contemplatively, since Cam does have to leave today, she snuggles into my side, and wraps her arms around my hips. “Sure. There’s this place just up here that—”
“Dixie’s?” I smile and lead her toward the ice cream parlor that I’ve eaten in a billion times in my life.
The owner of the shop, Dixie, is a well-known grade-A bitch. She uses high-schoolers for staff, pays them next to nothing, hounds them all shift long, and then on top of the almost-free labor, she bitches them out just for the sake of being a cow.
It’s a well-known fact that we hate this bitch, but her ice cream is the best in town. So we come in anyway, and do our best to drop sneaky tips for the servers when Dixie isn’t near. If she saw, she’d keep the tips too. So we drop cash when the old bitch isn’t looking, we smile for the server when she’s ready to run into oncoming traffic, and we wish that server well… and a better job.
“What’s up with the llama at the door?” Cam taps the ugly statue on the nose as we pass. “It’s tall as hell and wearing a polka dot bikini.”
I look around in search of Dixie as we step onto the black and white tile floor, but coming up empty, I drag Cam to the counter and peek over the glass.
“Hey there.” Taylor – as in, the same girl Cam met last year – steps forward with a stupid little hat on her head and a fake smile. She holds no animosity toward me or Cam. But the hat… the fucking hat that Dixie makes these girls wear. “Hello, Cam.”
“Um…” Cam clears her throat. “Hey.”
“Is Dixie here?” I ask. I stretch my neck and try to peek into the storage room.
“No, she’s running errands. The bank opened up again, so she had to make sure she deposited her stolen tips. You want caramel?”
“Yeah.” I look to Cam. “What do you want?”
“Um… Berry Delight, please. In a cup, not a cone.”
“Sure thing.” Taylor spins away to get to work, so I turn to Cam and grin.
“The statue’s name is Chester.”
Her brows wing up. “The llama has a name?”
“Yeah, well,” I chuckle. “I’m not sure that’s what Dixie calls him. But it’s what we call him. He was bought at a yard sale when I was still a kid. Back then, before Chester—Oh, thanks.” I grab the first cup of ice cream from the counter and pass it to Cam.
When Taylor passes mine, I take it with a smile, pass her a twenty, because that’s possibly the only tip she’ll receive today, then I turn us away and head back onto the sidewalk outside so we can make our way toward the gym.
Our final destination. Our final stop before Cam slides into her car and disappears from my life for a whole year.
“So, back before I was born, there used to be a different statue standing where Chester stands now.”
“There was?” She brings her cup up and licks the ice cream from the edge. “Why’d she get a new one?”
“She didn’t. The original was stolen. In the middle of the night, under the cover of darkness, thieves snuck in and stole that monstrosity straight out from under her nose.”
“So she bought a replacement?” she laughs. “That’s… strange.”
“No, she didn’t buy a replacement.” Laughter bubbles in my chest at the memories, the stories that play through my mind. “These thieves, a whole group of them, they stole the original… and they replaced him with Chester.”
“What!” She bursts out laughin
g. “Why would they do that?”
I throw one arm over her shoulder and wrap it around her neck as we walk. I eat while we go, which means I force her to walk at an awkward angle, but I’m not letting go. I can’t. I refuse.
“I guess the thieves figured Dixie needed a pal, so they took the original, replaced it with Chester, and though Dixie was pissed – still is pissed – the original has never been found.”
“So she just… accepted the replacement and rolled with it?”
“Fuck no.” I laugh. “She has a contract out on whoever stole it. She’s willing to pay big money for his return, and she swears there will be no questions asked, though word on the street is she’ll probably murder the thief and do away with their body.” I grin. “There would be no forgiveness for the thieving monster.”
Cam’s shoulders bounce as we turn at the end of the block and walk toward the gym. “I get the feeling you’re not too sympathetic to the woman’s grief.”
“I’m not. She’s a bitch, so whoever stole it is basically a town legend at this point.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Her eyes dance with laughter. “You stole it.”
“I absolutely, one-hundred-percent did not steal the statue. I was only a kid when he went missing.”
“Okay. So you know who took the statue.”
I snort. “If I answered that, my life would be in danger. So I’m going with the canned response we give the cops every year when they ask – I have an alibi, and no inclination to help Dixie find him. It’s unfortunate her plastic lover up and ran away from home, but it wasn’t my fault, not my problem, not a single fuck to give.”
“Cold,” she snickers. “Was it your mom?”
“No!” I tickle her ribs. “And stop asking questions about the statue. Look.” I nod toward the gym when we come close enough to see the parking lot. “Cops are in the house, which means we can’t discuss this anymore.”