Bad Boy Boxset

by JD Hawkins

  “Ain’t no story. Definitely not a good one,” I say, making it sound like the final word on the matter.

  Ginger takes a swig and hands me the bottle, then looks at me like I’m performing a magic trick and he wants to figure out how.

  Kayla steps into the back through the curtain. One side of her head shaved, the other side braided, long metal earrings that match the studs and buckles on her leather jacket and boots. She looks like she’s stepped out of an eighties rock video, and is possibly the only girl I know who doesn’t just make it work, but makes everyone else in the room feel underdressed because of it. Her tatt specialties are full color horror tattoos, which makes sense, and watercolor florals, which kinda doesn’t. But she’s amazing at both. Go figure.

  “What’s happening back here, boss?” she says, as she moves to the desk and starts packing some things. “Looks like a meeting of the sad bikers’ club up in here.”

  With a big grin, Ginger says, “I’ve finally found a girl Teo’s scared of.”

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Oh really?” Kayla says, turning away from her things to fold her arms and look at me with interest. “So the prolific Teo has finally met his match?”

  “It’s not like that. We’ve got history. Messy, complicated, dangerous history.”

  Ginger shares a look with Kayla.

  “Can you hear that in his voice?” he tells her. “Sounds like fear.”

  “Fuck you,” I repeat, but even I can hear the slight smile in my voice.

  “What happened?” Kayla asks. “You gonna tell us? Or make us guess?”

  “There ain’t much to tell. We met in high school. She was in a lot of my classes—well, art class, that was the only one I really went to. Anyway, we fell pretty hard for each other. Except we had to keep it a secret from the whole town.”

  Kayla raises a pierced brow. “How come?”

  “It was a small town. Everybody knew everything. I didn’t have the best reputation. Well, my dad didn’t have the best reputation, but it was the same thing to everyone else. Problem was, her family was pretty straight. Her dad was some big shot in the town. Sat on the local council, political bullshit, ‘pillar of the community.’ Mom was one of the teachers at the school until she passed from cancer our sophomore year. Last I heard, her sister was going to run for mayor.”

  “Man, some people are just born into it,” Ginger says.

  “Yeah,” I say, taking the whiskey back from him for another swig.

  I hand it over to Kayla and she takes a swig herself, then says, “Too good for you?”

  “Pretty much. Ash and her sister were like the ‘golden children.’ Destined for great things. Whole town loved them. They lived in this big white house, clean as the sky. Big gate, driveway you could drag race on, maids—the whole thing. Her mom used to donate a truckload of toys to the children’s hospital every year. They were seen as living saints.”

  “Shit,” Ginger says, stretching the word out for three full seconds.

  “And there I was sharing an illegal trailer with my dad on the other side of town. Dodging cops who had no one else to play authoritarian with and trying not to go out of my mind with boredom in that shitty hellhole.”

  Ginger whistles and then says, “Man, just like Romeo and Juliet.”

  Kayla and I laugh a little, looking at each other.

  “Sure. Shitty ending and all.” I look at Ginger and notice that he’s frowning in confusion, too thoughtful to say anything. “You know how Romeo and Juliet ends, right?”

  “Sure,” he says. “Those damned chick flicks are all the same. They’ve always got happy endings.”

  I look at him to see if he’s serious, then shake my head in disappointment.

  “Christ, Ginger. You don’t know how lucky you are that I hired you. Romeo and Juliet die in the end. They commit suicide.”

  “Well shit,” Ginger says, taking a long draw of whiskey as if to dull this shocking revelation.

  The moment lingers a while, the whiskey starting to hit all of us, slowing our thoughts and making us contemplate the situation.

  Eventually Ginger turns to me with a confused look and says, “So what ever happened with you guys? How’d you lose her?”

  I take another hit of whiskey, never drunk enough to deal with the pain of just remembering. I drop my head, stare at my leather boots, but all I see is the moon that night, the empty road, the exit sign.

  “I left.”

  “You left?” Ginger says after a few seconds. “You mean you just disappeared?”

  I nod my head, heavy with the years of regret.

  “Shit,” Ginger drawls again. “Well that’s a hell of a disappointing ending, I gotta say.”

  My phone vibrates with an incoming text and I grab it from the counter beside me. It’s Ash, telling me that she’ll be ready and waiting for me to pick her up.

  “Not an ending,” I say, feeling a rush of powerful determination fill my veins. “Just the end of a chapter. It’s not over yet.”

  5

  Ash

  Ordinarily, the meeting with Candace and Sean would linger in my mind for days like a bad meal repeating on me. Candace’s poison-tipped words just now starting to get deep into my bloodstream, to work at paralyzing and angering me from the inside. It’s her greatest skill—irritating me even when she’s not around.

  But nothing seems quite ordinary anymore, not since Teo turned up in my life again. Everybody has their own kind of ordinary, and a few days ago my ordinary was a job that paid bills and drained souls, my non-existent love life way down on the priority list—somewhere between de-icing the freezer and making sure I didn’t run out of sugar. Ordinary was carrying around a half-filled heart, a future unlived, a missing limb—the knowledge of what I’d always dreamed could make me truly, profoundly happy, and the knowledge that it had disappeared the night he left.

  Now there is no ordinary, now all the rules don’t count. I don’t know if this is going to be a second chance, an opportunity for the closure I’ve needed for years, or a final twist of the knife that was stuck into my gut seven years ago. The only thing I know is that I’ll stop at nothing to finally get my answer, whether I have to pull it out like a tooth or seduce it out of him—I’ll find out once and for all why he left. Maybe that’s all I need to truly move on.

  “Ugh, too fancy,” I say to my reflection in the tight red dress. “It’s a rock show, not a gallery opening.”

  My online search results were pretty short on ‘what to wear to a maybe-a-date-but-not-really-a-date with a guy you were madly in love with but haven’t seen in seven years’ advice. Jenny had pushed for over-the-top sexy, and I didn’t want to go that route either.

  I end up settling on a pair of tight leather pants and a short black leather jacket, but I agonize over the red tank beneath it. Too much cleavage, I think, too easily interpreted as me wanting him to look—not that Teo ever needed much encouragement to undress me with his eyes. Maybe the leather pants are enough—Teo was always more of an ass guy. Then again, why am I even thinking about all of this, I’m not trying to jump him…not until I get to talk to him properly, anyway.

  I’m half-squeezed into the leather pants when my phone rings. I pick it up with all the intention of letting it ring through, then see that it’s Grace, my sister. Getting to speak with her is rare, through no fault of her own—that’s just how it is when you’re mayor of a town.

  “Hey!” I say, as I put the call on speakerphone and continue pulling on the pants.

  “Hey sis!” Grace says with genuine happiness. “God I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to call in a while. I’ve just been so busy.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I understand.”

  Grace sighs like she’s more relaxed now that I’m on the phone.

  “It’s been so hectic over here,” she says, slipping out of her ‘mayor voice’ and into the one I grew up with. “Jared’s obsessed with closing this deal on a vacation pro
perty in Florida. Eliza’s getting ready to start at a new school for gifted kids—she’s so nervous, the poor thing, even though she’s excited to be going. Tim just got his license and is trying to wrangle a ridiculous sports car out of us, which I told him I’d pay for half of if he gets a job to pay for the other half, and I’m still trying to negotiate a peace between a local fracking initiative and the protesters.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare,” I say, tousling my hair in the mirror. “How’s little Jane?”

  “Oh, she’s as sweet and adorable as ever. She’s already onto three words now. She misses her Auntie Ash, though.”

  “Just tell me when and I’ll come by.”

  “We’re planning something soon, I’ll let you know. Anyway, how are you? How’s the job going? Father was asking about you.”

  I ignore the job question, already getting defensive at the mention of our supposedly well-meaning but perennially overbearing dad. “Asking? Or preaching?”

  “Oh, come on, Ash. You know he just worries about you.”

  “Well, he should be glad to hear that I did just receive a promotion, and I’ve got a lovely new apartment as well. Tell him I’m not going to be begging for his help any time soon.”

  “You should tell him yourself,” Grace says. “He misses you. And congrats on the promotion.”

  “Thanks.” I sigh. “I guess we should all have dinner or something soon. Emphasis on all of us.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Grace repeats, that ‘mayor voice’ slipping in a little. I groan a little as I check myself out in the mirror, the tight pants maybe a little too sexy after all. “What are you up to tonight?” Grace asks, politely changing the subject.

  “Just getting ready to go out.”

  “Ooh! Is my baby sister finally going to start dating again?” she teases.

  “Hmm. Sort of. Not really.”

  “Oh! That’s great! What is he? Someone from work?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “He’s not from work, but he is about ten minutes away,” I say, playfully. “So I might have to go at any moment.”

  “I won’t keep you,” Grace says. “I should run off and get my statement for tomorrow ready anyway. I’ll talk to you soon. Good luck tonight. Love you, sis.”

  “Love you too, Grace.”

  She clicks off the phone and I continue to frown at my ass in the mirror. Eventually, I decide to scrap the sexy outfit and try a basic ripped jeans and t-shirt combo—something I assume most girls will be wearing, a default outfit that says nothing—better to play the opportunities of the night. Before I can get changed, however, the decision is made for me.

  Teo arrives early. He doesn’t text or call, though. Instead, he revs the bike engine outside my apartment. Loud and eager, like a lion’s roar. I rush to the window, pull the curtains aside, already knowing that it’s him, the kind of gesture he would have made all those years ago, the kind of gesture I’m not surprised he hasn’t given up on.

  He sees me come to the window, and a slight raise of the eyebrow is all the acknowledgement I get, and all I need. Grabbing the last of my things, I take one last glance at myself in the mirror, figure the low-cut top might not be such a bad idea after all, and go outside to meet him.

  He looks good enough to lick, to bite, to eat. Black jeans packing the powerful muscles of his legs, astride the bike. Black boots on the ground. White t-shirt from which those tattooed arms extend toward the handlebars in a tense grip. Even the helmet looks good on him, drawing attention to that broad jaw and Roman nose. I almost feel like stopping to take a picture.

  Instead I move toward him, feeling the heat prickle up my chest, across the back of my neck, skin suddenly ultra-sensitive to the chill in the air, the nervous, jittery energy of heading into the unknown.

  “You look incredible,” Teo says, his voice the same low growl of the bike engine. His eyes move down my body with the slow gentleness of firm hands, just like I expected, and I try to remember how to speak.

  “You’re early,” I tell him with a smile.

  “Impatient,” he replies.

  I take the extra helmet from him and put it on, then swing my leg over the seat. The broad muscles of his back are inches away from my face, the hardness of his ass between my thighs. I can smell the mixture of the hot engine and his rough skin, a dark musk that makes me think of danger. My nerves jangle with paralyzing excitement at his heavy, powerful presence, so close to me. A mixture of adrenaline and nostalgic lust racing through me.

  Tentatively, I put my hands to his waist as he picks a foot up off the ground and revs the bike. Pressing gently, I feel the muscular twist of his body, fingers nesting in the line above his hip. It feels too much like the past, doing this. Too much like the dreams I had after he was gone, where he showed up like this and I clung tightly to him as he made everything ok again.

  He turns his head to the side, showing me his profile, outlined in streetlamps.

  “You’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that.”

  At his command I push my hands across his front, fingers following the lines of his abdomen through the thin fabric of his shirt. I let my eyes close as I squeeze myself against him, press my chest tightly to his back, nipples so hard he can probably feel them through my jacket. Thighs against his, cheek to his shoulder. My whole being so sensitive, and his body so hard I feel every movement of his muscle, every thump of his heart, every shift of his balance.

  He lifts his other foot, twists the accelerator, and takes me away.

  By the time we get to the venue I feel like butter, hot and melted against him, so blissed out from the ride that it’d taken me a few seconds to remember where we were going, so comfortable holding him to me that I almost tell him to screw the gig and keep on riding.

  But I don’t. Instead we pull up to a stop outside the gigantic converted warehouse that’s located downtown, right beside the L.A. River. A big brick structure that would probably look derelict if there weren’t crowds of people milling around outside it. By the light of the setting sun I can make out the coolness of the crowd. Half of them so detached and aloof that they look almost bored, the other half so intense they look like they’re ready to fight. It’s an edgy, hip crowd. Metal t-shirts and tons of mascara, combat boots and studded bracelets, red and black plaid and patterned tights. Strobing lights filter through the man-sized windows, and the rumble of a rock song emerging from inside makes people raise their voices to talk.

  I get off the bike and feel suddenly awkward, suddenly aware of how long it’s been since I actually spent a night out. Then Teo takes my hand, and even though it makes the nerves disappear, I instinctively frown at him for the forward gesture.

  He shoots me a humored half-smile, as if amused by my reaction.

  “What?” he says. “Surprised that your hand still fits in mine?”

  I laugh a little, some of the nerves escaping on it, and Teo starts to lead me through the crowd.

  It doesn’t surprise me to see that Teo seems to know a lot of these people, and a lot of these people seem to know Teo. Guys call his name, hold out hands to clasp, break away from conversations to show their happiness at seeing him. Girls cast flirtatious, hungry eyes at him until they see me behind him and their looks turn curious or disinterested.

  Teo leads me through a crowd that seems to go on forever. A mass of dancing bodies, jumping and moving to the driving bass that reverberates through the darkness, arms in the air, coaxing powerful roars from a searing guitar.

  Just as I’m about to wonder where, exactly, he’s taking me, we’re attacked by a giant figure, who leaps out of the crowd to wrap long arms around both our necks.

  “Guys! Oh my God! You came!”

  The figure stands back and I see that she’s a tall, striking woman with haute couture cheekbones and Joni Mitchell bangs. She’s wearing black jeans and a denim shirt over a sailor shirt—but it may as well be a Margiela dress for how good she makes it look.

  “Ash!” th
e girl squeals, almost hopping on those long legs, and I realize that I’m staring.

  Suddenly I notice those round, intelligent eyes, that little dimple in the chin, the small gap in her teeth.

  “Isabel?”

  She screams again, and grabs me against her for round two of the bear hug. When we break apart this time I’ve got no doubt at all.

  “No fucking way!” I laugh, full of incredulous shock. “Look at you! You look amazing!”

  “Look at you! I didn’t think you could be any more gorgeous than you were in high school but you’re blowing my mind!”

  “No, seriously,” I interrupt. “I didn’t even recognize you. Shit, Isabel!”

  “I love your hair,” Isabel coos, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Have you been working out? You look like a dancer or something!”

  “Girl, that’s from all the guitar-wrangling and the adrenaline and the cross-continental tour schedule,” Isabel laughs. “But I guess you could call that working out for sure. So how are you? What are you up to these days? I wanna know everything!”

  “I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” Teo interjects. “Let you girls finish telling each other how hot you both are.”

  “Ok, sure,” Isabel says, ushering me away and pointing in a direction. “We’ll be over here.”

  Once Isabel gets me to a quieter part of the warehouse she leans in and through a semi-conspiratorial smile and says, “Ok Ash, you’ve got to fill me in. I feel like I’ve been away for far too long. What is going on with you guys? I thought after everything that happened…you know? Game over. And now this?”

  Isabel was the only one of our friends I actually told about me and Teo, after the fact. That summer, after prom, before we both left our town to go away to college, I poured my heart out and told her everything. About our secret relationship, about our pact to show ourselves together at prom, about Teo’s sudden disappearance. Isabel even tried to help me figure it out. Where he’d gone, or what had happened on that last night. It makes a kind of sense that the first thing she’d ask me about when we saw each other again was what happened—especially considering I showed up here with him.