The Right Side of Reckless

by Whitney D. Grandison

  I wanted the real Regan, not the robot.

  “Nice job.”

  My hands jerked. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing behind me, but Mrs. London’s arrival sent a chill down my spine. I was certain that what I’d done with her daughter Friday night was written across my face.

  Mrs. London didn’t seem happy to see me, despite her compliment on my work. I’d been cleaning windows all morning and as her gaze lingered where I was kneeling on the floor, I wondered if I’d messed up.

  “Let’s go have a talk in the conference room. There’s a meeting at eleven, so we’ll keep this short.” She turned on her heel, not even waiting to walk with me to the second floor.

  Harvey insisted she spoke highly of me, but while he wasn’t one to lie, Mrs. London hadn’t eased up at all since the day we met.

  As I followed her to the conference room, I racked my brain on what all I could’ve done to upset her. Regan had promised that our stay at the motel would stay between us, which left me to believe maybe I had slacked somewhere in my cleaning at the center and Mrs. London had come to reprimand me.

  She sat at the head of the table, crossing her legs and steepling her fingers as she waited for me to take a seat.

  I sat a few chairs down from her on her right. “Yes?”

  Briefly, the corner of Mrs. London’s lips curled up. “Tell me, Guillermo, once you’ve finished your required hours with us, will you be continuing your services here at the community center?”

  I stared at her, confused. That...was not what I’d expected her to say. I thought about my answer. As much as I didn’t mind my duties, I wanted to be as financially independent as possible. “I do like it here, but I’m hoping to find work at Henry’s.”

  Mrs. London seemed to find humor in that, but then within the blink of an eye, all joy disappeared from her face. “Simba is quite the cute little pup, isn’t he?”

  Shit.

  Like Troy, Mrs. London wasn’t so pleased with my gift. When I’d shown up to volunteer Thursday, Daren, the facility’s co-lead, had been in charge for the day and things had been normal. I’d thought maybe Mrs. London would let it go.

  Now I could see that she wouldn’t. “I was just getting my younger sister a puppy. I saw Simba and I couldn’t let the moment pass me by.”

  Mrs. London’s stoic expression caused terror to settle in the pit of my stomach. “It was a thoughtful thing to do. My husband’s just as taken by the dog as Regan and Avery.”

  The thought made me smile and loosen up. Maybe this wasn’t a bad confrontation.

  But Mrs. London didn’t let me think that for long. “While it was thoughtful, it was inappropriate. As I told you before, Regan has a boyfriend, and there are certain boundaries that need to be respected.”

  I almost could’ve laughed. She clearly hadn’t spoken to her daughter about last night.

  Mrs. London arched a brow. “Is something funny, Guillermo?”

  I sobered. “No,” I told her. “I’m sorry.”

  “As I was saying, Regan has a boyfriend, one she’s very happy with. The last thing you should want to do is to come between them. High school can be complicated, troublesome, and screwed up, but only if you make it that way. You’re on a good path, Guillermo. I want more for you, but I must warn you again to keep your distance from my daughter.”

  She and her husband knew very little about their children. They had no clue how they were smothering one and neglecting the other. It wasn’t my place to speak up, even if it was laughable thinking that Troy made Regan happy. It just proved my point even more that I had to leave her alone. I didn’t need to be in the picture until she was able to be up front with them.

  “You think Troy’s better for Regan because you like Troy, or because he’s not the one on probation?” I found myself asking.

  Mrs. London appeared thoughtful. “Your circumstances aren’t malignant to the point where I want my children to stay away from you. You’re friends with Avery and I admire that, but understand, Regan already has a boyfriend, one who she loves and is happy with.”

  She kept repeating that idea. I had to look elsewhere to keep from losing it. Troy’s image was so pristine and built up, I doubted either of Regan’s parents would handle their breakup well. The guy was the king of Akron, destined for prime time, and I was just some kid on probation for simple assault.

  “Guillermo,” Mrs. London continued. “Is there something I don’t know? Because you look like you find my comments about Regan amusing.”

  I sat back in my seat and looked her in the eye. “I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am.”

  This didn’t please her. She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me something, do you think Harvey would like it if we had a phone call about this scenario?”

  Harvey would be on my ass. “No. It’s not necessary, Regan and I aren’t friends and I won’t be in contact with her anytime soon.”

  “Really?” Mrs. London asked.

  I knew who held the power here, and I knew to stay in line. Calling Harvey would be a world of shit, but calling my parents would be worse. “Can I be honest?”

  Mrs. London shrugged. “Certainly.”

  I leaned over, becoming extra serious. My future was on the line. “Regan deserves better. Who I was in the past was never ‘better.’ I may not be better now, but regarding Regan, she deserves better. At the end of the day, it’s up to Regan to say who and what makes her happy. She’s incredibly beautiful and intriguing, and she deserves better.”

  I rose to my feet and tipped my head toward Mrs. London. “Consider Simba my last gesture of goodwill toward your daughter. As long as Troy is in the picture, I won’t be a problem. I promise.”

  I walked out of the room, leaving my false bravado at the door.

  Regan

  I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. The actors on the TV screen were speaking fluent Spanish, and though I couldn’t follow their speech, I was hanging on to their story.

  Thank God for subtitles.

  From the English commentary, I gathered that Pilar was in love with Manuel, a resident at a hospital, but he was engaged to her snobby cousin. Each time they talked, the chemistry was intense, and Manuel saw her for more than just the baker at her family’s panadería, and I could tell he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

  Saturday afternoon I stayed home in bed and found myself finally viewing the foreign films Netflix had to offer, or really those from Spanish-speaking countries. Both of my parents were gone and Avery was playing a video game. It was just me, Simba, Pilar, and Manuel.

  “Oh, Manuel, get it together already!” I groaned as I watched him reel Pilar in just to push her away for the umpteenth time. Sure, he was with her cousin, but he still had time to wise up.

  Beside me my cell phone buzzed. I knew it was Troy before I looked at the text.

  I miss you & I’m sorry

  He at least had the decency not to use a corny frowny face. All of the other texts he’d sent me were also void of emojis. He had been switching between texting and calling for hours, with no sign of letting up.

  At one point, he blamed it on jealousy, and then another he blamed it on being lonely, and finally he came to the conclusion that he was just stupid. His attempt at self-pity was lost on me, because cheating was intentional, as was his continued disrespect leading up to it.

  I focused on the movie, admiring the handsome actor who played Manuel. His dark tan complexion, strong build, short curly hair, handsome face, and tempting crooked smile had me swooning right along with Pilar.

  Get it, girl.

  Malika came sauntering into my room, loudly introducing herself by way of the heavy step of her boots and the jingle of her chandelier earrings.

  “Hey, Rey, what’s—” She took one look at the screen and scowled. “Girl, if you don’t stop playing games
and just go talk to Guillermo already.” She came and sat beside me, eyeing the screen while shaking her head.

  “What? I’m just watching movies.” I tried to feign innocence but my best friend wasn’t fooled.

  “Oh really? Since when do you like foreign movies?” She gestured to the TV. “I peep game, Rey.”

  “Spanish has always interested me, Malika.”

  “Bull.”

  I wouldn’t deny Guillermo’s influence was one reason I was watching the films. I loved the sound of his voice when he spoke Spanish. But it was genuine intrigue that had me up watching a telenovela after my hair appointment Saturday morning. That and some of the passionate-looking romance the films offered. There was a part of me that had always admired the Spanish language, even if I wasn’t too fluent at it in school.

  Loud screaming brought my attention back to my TV screen where Pilar was bickering with her cousin Maya. Manuel looked stuck in between.

  I sighed. “Ugh, no!”

  Malika clicked her tongue and began scrolling through her phone. “Guillermo’s across the street.”

  I ignored that. “You know what I hate?”

  “When people tag you in pictures knowing damn well they caught you at a bad angle,” Malika replied as she stared at a picture on her phone.

  She wasn’t even with me. “No, I hate the idea of obligation. Just because you’re one way doesn’t mean you have to date someone who’s the same. Opposites can attract.”

  She set her phone to the side, facing me. “Say what, now?”

  “I’m just saying, Pilar gets dumped in the beginning of the movie by some jerk, and then she meets the perfect customer who’s hot, funny, charming—and engaged to her cousin. But Maya’s such a snob, and Manuel actually gets Pilar. It’s not fair.”

  It was clear Malika was still confused. “Yeah, Rey, you need to go across the street.”

  I rolled my eyes, annoyed that she didn’t get it.

  Back on the screen, Manuel and Maya’s wedding was taking place, and Pilar was standing behind Maya as her maid of honor. Maya was sporting a baby bump, obviously carrying Manuel’s unborn child.

  Pathetic.

  Of course fairy-tale endings weren’t real, but still.

  My cell phone went off again and I quickly read Troy’s newest text.

  “Oh wow,” I said, rereading it.

  Malika leaned over my shoulder to read. She rolled her eyes. “I swear those are Trey Songz lyrics.”

  “No, it’s a football thing.”

  “O-kay, whatever you say.”

  The ending credits were rolling and the movie was over. I closed Netflix and heaved a sigh. I wasn’t in the mood for another sad Spanish film, not after watching Pilar lose the love of her life and end up alone.

  Maybe I was deflecting.

  “Have you heard from Troy?” I faced Malika, ready for some real advice.

  She set her phone aside again and leaned back with a shrug. “Uh-huh, he came crawlin’ to me, trying to get me to put in a good word for him.”

  “And?”

  “And like I said, I peep game.”

  I played into her taunting. “And just what does that mean?”

  “Troy cheats on you, and you’re not up here watchin’ All-American, but a telenovela. How did you get home last night?”

  It was supposed to be a secret, but this was Malika, my best friend.

  “I just got home,” I said, refusing to look her in the eye.

  “I was across the room, trying to get to you, but you rushed out the front door. A second later I saw Guillermo going after you. It wasn’t hard to figure out what happened next, especially with you actin’ like you can’t text nobody back. So basically,” she went on, “you’re up here watchin’ movies that remind you of Guillermo, which means you’re not even hurt over Troy, which also means you’ve been developing feelings for Mo for a while, which—”

  “Malika,” I groaned.

  She crossed her arms and angled her head to look at me. “You a sneaky ho.”

  I snorted. “That’s your conclusion?”

  “What other explanation is there? You had a side dude this whole time, which explains why Mo’s been single. What, you still keepin’ Troy and just rotating ’em when one gets out of line?”

  Malika was dead serious, which made her theory even funnier. Me juggle two guys? I could barely handle Troy, and I wasn’t the two-timing type.

  “Guillermo deserves more than being a side piece, ’Lika. You’re right about Troy, though, I’m not hurt as much as I am disappointed. This was a long time coming.”

  “So it’s done-done?” Malika clarified.

  Is it?

  All over social media I was getting messages to forgive Troy. Hell, even Tommy J had sent me a DM on Troy’s behalf.

  JustJordan50: Come on big sis, big bro messed up. Y’all too good together to not talk it out

  It sucked that girls were expected to forgive their guys when they stepped out on them. When it was the other way around, from what I’d seen, guys weren’t so forgiving.

  It didn’t just stop at social media. I’d gotten text after text about forgiving Troy. Some were genuinely rooting for us, and others were thinking of the bigger picture, aka, what I’d be giving up if I walked away before he went pro.

  I never cared about Troy being some famous football player. I cared about him, and he took me for granted.

  “I haven’t wanted to be with Troy for a long time, Malika. I don’t want to be in his shadow. He’s a great guy when he wants to be, but I just can’t get into it. He doesn’t make me happy, he just makes me feel all wrong and stressed out. Guillermo’s a breath of fresh air.”

  “You don’t need any guy, you’re fine on your own, but if you want a guy, you definitely deserve to be with someone who makes you feel safe, comfortable, and respected. And it looks like you know exactly who that is,” Malika said as she rubbed my shoulder in support.

  She was right.

  Guillermo gave me something no one else did: freedom. Freedom to make my own choice about what to do in the aftermath of the party with Troy. He could’ve just told me to pick him, and I probably would’ve, but I understood what he was doing. I was emotional, and my next move needed to be carefully thought out and rational. Guillermo hadn’t given me an ultimatum, but respect and peace of mind.

  When we’d been in the motel room together, he hadn’t tried a thing. Guillermo was all about permission, which I admired and loved. I was empowered by that, the little sense of control I felt with him. If I said no, it meant no. It wasn’t about debating or trying to change my mind.

  But this wasn’t about being with another guy, it was about me, and what all was weighing me down. The whole school—and my father—would probably hate me for dumping Troy and moving on with my life. And my father would probably be incredibly disappointed in me for ditching accounting after the effort he’d put into brainwashing me into liking it.

  I had so much to finally speak up for, if I could speak up at all.

  Guillermo

  Apart from being with Regan, one thing that really stuck with me about Friday night was seeing Camila hanging with another guy. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was something. Whatever was up, Raviv had a right to know. He’d avoided the party out of respect for Camila, and she had gone and flirted behind his back.

  Nava Hadad let me in later that afternoon when I stopped by after my shift at the community center. Looking at Nava, I could see that Raviv was a perfect blend of both his parents. He had his mother’s olive green eyes, the same dark brown hair, and he was practically the spitting image of Raz.

  The thing I liked most about the Hadads was their warmth. They embraced anyone attached to their son wholeheartedly. Once I came by with Jenaya, and they took to her as quickly as they’d taken to me. Raviv was
lucky to have this support system. His parents were loving and open-minded, giving him a sense of freedom without smothering him, but weren’t afraid to step in when it was needed.

  If only Regan’s parents were the same.

  “Hey, Guillermo!” Like her husband, Nava was extra affectionate and she greeted me with a hug. “It’s good to see you. Raviv isn’t feeling very well today actually.”

  I had a feeling I knew why. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Nava smiled as she patted my arm. “Good, he needs a friend like you right now.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I offered.

  “You want anything to eat? I was making Rav some oxtail soup and basbousa, just a little something to cheer him up. There’s plenty.” Like my mother, Nava was big on feeding people. In their eyes, a little something was usually a good spread of food.

  “No, that’s okay, but thanks,” I told her before making my way up to Raviv’s room. Chances were, she’d make me a to-go plate anyway.

  I found Raviv laid back on his bed, catching and releasing a soccer ball.

  Lazily, he rolled his head my way as I entered his room. “I told her no visitors.”

  “Yeah, well, tough shit.” I grabbed a chair and took a seat by his bed. “How you holding?”

  He scowled and went back to tossing his soccer ball in the air. The muscle in his jaw tensed, illustrating how pissed he was. “Let me guess, you saw it, too?”

  I tilted my head. “So what’s the verdict?”

  Raviv caught the soccer ball and squeezed. “She hooked up with some football player. Andy saw her and texted me, and when I confronted her at two in the morning, she was still with the douchebag. She didn’t even deny it. There go my plans for Sweetest Day. No chocolate covered strawberries. No roses. No date. No fucking girlfriend.”