by A. Marie
I also need to figure out what to do about Joe. I can’t let him catch me like he did again. He may get others to play his sick games but I won’t be one of them. No matter what promises he makes, it’s not worth selling the only thing I have left—my dignity.
There’s no way I can tell Drew what happened. There’s no way I can tell anyone about what Joe did. It’d be my word against his and mine already has the stench of my mother’s misdeeds attached to it.
If anyone did believe me, they’d expect me to quit, but I can’t. Not yet. I need the job at Hot Spots at least until graduation when I have additional availability to offer a new employer.
Just a little longer.
* * *
I hear Coty enter the lot behind me. He followed me the entire way back, keeping a comfortable distance for my sake more than his I’m sure.
Climbing the stairs, exhaustion from the day settles over me like a harsh current threatening to pull me under.
As my foot reaches the top step, the boys’ door flies open, hitting the wall with a metallic clang. Beckett appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes narrowed to slits. He’d be intimidating if I didn’t already know what a softy he is.
“And where have you been?”
Seriously?
I bypass him and his probing stare, heading straight for my door.
“Hello to you, too.”
“You never work this late, so what were you doing?”
He finally unfolds his arms only to adjust his hat, facing it backward. The move strikes me as a nervous tic but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he care whether I was home or not?
The little scruff on his face makes him look utterly adorable—as adorable as a 6’6” man can be—added with his lips turned down and I have to fight the urge to laugh. I pity his future daughters already. And he will have daughters. Only the baddest of boys get rewarded with daughters. It’s the most surefire way to make them pay for their transgressions. To spend their life trying to protect their daughters from the same indiscretions they themselves committed to others. It’s genius, really.
Obviously, my dad chose to skip his penance altogether by ignoring my existence from the start.
“I’m not the only one, you know? We were worried.”
His forest green shirt reads Ride The Beast and I wonder, not for the first time, if he has a monthly subscription of tacky motorcycle shirts made just for giants like him.
A throat clearing has both our heads turning. Coty, jacket unzipped and hanging open with his helmet propped under an arm, approaches us with eyes glued to his roommate’s. Beckett breaks into a grin, bringing his gaze back to me though.
“Looks like you found her after all.”
My eyes shift between them, confusion wracking my brain. Apparently, neither feels inclined to elaborate further though because all they do is play a round of The Topic’s Lava, refusing to even touch the subject.
“Well, I’m home now. Thanks for the concern?”
A chuckling Beckett leaves, giving us some privacy.
Coty meets me at my door instead of going to his own like I knew he would.
He leans his arms against my doorjamb, taking up the frame like I hoped he would. I peruse his body, from his badass boots up his ripped jeans to the all-black jacket over his plain tee. How does he always make simple outfits look so damn attractive? His lips remind me of our sweet kiss made even sweeter by the candy we’d eaten. I reach his mocha swirl eyes that are already on mine. He was watching me check him out.
He’s too tempting and I’m a mess. He’s beautiful and I’m defective. I don’t want to risk corrupting him which is why I close the door softly after a whispered goodbye.
Light and easy.
He’s like a fantasy slowly consuming me while I’m living a nightmare I can’t seem to purge. Yet.
I hear a soft, “goodnight, Angela,” followed by the distinct click of a door closing across the hall.
Hitting repeat on “Head Above Water” by Avril Lavigne, I jump in the shower, hoping to scrub off today’s residue. I scrub my body like a criminal cleaning their crime scene. No fingerprints left behind. No trace—visible or otherwise—of Joe’s touch to be found, I clean my body again. And again. And again. I scour my skin, wishing a new layer would form in its place with each brush. My vulnerability combined with the vigorous cleansing leaves me feeling raw and exposed.
With scalding water pounding my chest, I lean my head against the wall, breathing through my mouth. The steam coats my throat like the heat steeping my skin. A hiccup escapes followed by another, then another.
I stay there until the water runs cold. Until Joe is no longer a phantom haunting my disinfected form.
My head, however, is a different story.
CHAPTER 18
Angela
Predictably, the car wash doesn’t need my help for the next few days, giving me time to look for another job. After my lengthy shower the other night, a plan began to form. One where I take matters into my own hands before they can fall into anyone else’s.
Not wanting Coty to know what I’m up to, or why, I’ve been going to the library to use the computers. Ever since seeing that wedding, I look forward to coming here now. I even checked out some books about ethics in the workplace. Spoiler alert! Hot Shots is failing—miserably.
Drew calls one day as I’m leaving.
“Where are you? I don’t see your car.”
“Where are you?” My heart jumps to my throat, thinking he’s at the wash.
“At your apartment. I wanted to see if I could talk you into some Chinese tonight.”
“Oh.” My pulse steadies. “I’m driving there now. I…had some errands.” It’s true. Mostly. “Can we go to my place again?”
Drew groans dramatically. “Last time their sweet and sour chicken was so dry I almost choked.”
We switch between two places in town, each of us favoring one over the other. Mine has its strengths while his has its chicken.
“But their egg rolls are so much better,” I whine.
My plea goes unanswered though.
“Hurry up. I don’t want to run into one of your neighbors again.”
“I heard about that,” I snicker even though really, it’s not that funny. I can only imagine the hell he caught not only from Coty, but his girlfriend afterward. I bet Jamie wasn’t thrilled about someone mistaking Drew as another woman’s.
“I figured he would tell you. Please tell me you’re not hooking up with your neighbor.” He laughs incredulously.
I bristle. “I’m not.”
“Well, he likes you, so watch out.”
“What’s not to like? A broke girl with daddy problems and mommy issues. That’s prime stripper material.”
“Over my dead body,” he growls, making me laugh.
“The dull new toy next door caught his attention momentarily, that’s all. He’ll grow tired of playing in the dirt and move on soon.”
“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I’m about to pull in.”
I hang up, parking next to his car. All the boys’ cars and bikes are here along with several others, almost filling the lot to capacity. It’s Friday night. Party night.
I rush into Drew’s waiting arms as he leans against his silver beauty. Unable to speak, I press my face into his shoulder, inhaling his fruity musk.
“Are you ready? Or do you need to change first?”
I glance down at my outfit. My ripped-to-shreds skinny jeans hang low on my hips while my thrift store band tee is tied into a knot, showing a slice of belly. I pulled half my hair up into a top knot, leaving the bottom half straight this morning. My skater-style black and white Adidas shoes complete my look.
I scan Drew. I’m underdressed compared to him but that’s nothing new. I swear he strolled out of the womb wearing Nantucket reds. His salmon-c
olored shorts and blue polo could get him onto any golf course in the country. Perfectly styled hair adds a genuinely charming quality that he already has in spades.
I’m so lucky to have him in my life.
He sees me smiling and returns the gesture. “What?”
“Nothing. Can we go now? If you can stand to be seen with me that is.” I beam, wondering how many more times we’ll be able to do this.
He catches me up on all the things. From his girlfriend to his dad. I’ve never had a close relationship with Drew’s dad but I’ve never had a problem with him either. Drew works with him at some fancy building. I’m not exactly sure what they do, but I know they work hard and love their jobs. Even though I’d never admit it to Drew, I’ve always found it to be inspiring, their situation. Working closely with someone you love and still wanting to show up day in and day out. It can’t be easy, yet Drew and his dad, Robert, make it look like a cake walk.
I grudgingly drive us to his restaurant of choice. As usual, it’s not busy. Must be why their chicken tastes so good—less customers means more attention to fried poultry.
Conversation doesn’t flow as smoothly as usual and I feel myself holding back on certain topics now, whereas before I was always an open book with him. I steer away from anything neighbor related, just telling him bits and pieces about my apartment life. I avoid work talk altogether, fearing I’ll spill the truth about what’s really going on. I’ll tell him about Joe. Just not today. Or tomorrow. Okay, I don’t know when I’ll tell him, but I will—eventually.
I hate hiding things from him but it’s for both of us. His relationship with Jamie is getting more serious by the day. I’m finding my way on my own. Slowly. I still love Drew like a brother and want him in my life; I’m just trimming some of the strings that’ve been tying us together for so long.
Afterward, we’re met with a full parking lot when we return to Creekwood. Unable to find a spot, Drew offers up his, preventing him from coming up. We say our goodbyes and I park in his space once he leaves.
People are everywhere. Packed onto the guys’ balcony. Huddled on the stairs. Some even loiter near the cars. How do the other residents not care? What about the manager? I seriously want to know what kind of deal the guys have with her that she turns a blind eye to this. She lives on the property so she has to hear at least some of this. Creekwood is broken up into three sections forming a broken U shape with the pool in the middle. Hers is in one of the outer buildings while ours is in the central hub.
A pack of guys descends the stairs as I approach. Unease slows my steps. I contemplate going the long way around to the back staircase, the one leading to the pool, but the lights there are constantly burning out, so I pull my shoulders back, walking around them as they fill the sidewalk. A few turn my way and one lets out a low, appreciative whistle. Keeping my head forward, I shoot my eyes over to the group, gauging their proximity.
“Hands off. Shit, eyes off, too.”
Everyone, including me, looks up to see Coty staring down from their front balcony.
“She yours?” the whistler, I think, asks.
Coty opens his mouth to answer but I beat him to it with, “I’m nobody’s,” then frown realizing there’s more truth to that than anything I’ve ever said.
All eyes return to me. I keep mine on Coty though, wishing he’d see what I’m too nervous to tell him. His eyebrows dip but rapid movement to my right causes me to break our connection. I swing my back to the wall, facing the guy—again the whistler—as he advances.
“I’m Jason.”
His hand hangs between us. I glance from it to his face, letting the moment stretch until it’s awkward, for him anyway. I personally don’t mind. I don’t want to touch him. Plus, you can tell a lot by watching someone, especially when they’re uncomfortable.
I nod, then move to signal I’m leaving.
“Aww, it’s like that? No name for the beautiful girl?” he teases. Before I can see it, he reaches out, hooking a finger into one of the shredded slivers in my jeans.
I yank my leg out away from his obnoxious touch, scolding, “What the hell was that?”
“Leave her alone, J.” I hear Beckett warn above our heads but I don’t dare look away from Jason in front of me or the group behind him in my peripheral.
“Aww, come on. I’m just having some fun. Why does it matter?”
The whining is annoying. If I didn’t already find him unattractive, I definitely would now.
Beckett’s chuckle comes out sinister. “You’ll see.”
Then Coty is there causing everything—maybe even time—to freeze. He glances over to me with an unreadable expression before posting up in front of Jason, hands clenched at his sides.
“What the fuck don’t you get about ‘hands off’?”
Jason shifts, his eyes darting past Coty’s shoulder. Coty moves his head, blocking his view.
“She said she wasn’t yours. She’s free game then, right?” The crack in his voice gives away his nervousness. What he says next reveals his stupidity. “I was just going to offer her a drink. I thought we could go for a dip out back. Maybe the naked variety.” He laughs, looking to his boys who are watching with mounting apprehension as Jason blunders full speed ahead, completely oblivious.
Without warning, Coty’s fist connects with Jason’s nose, resulting in a sickening crunch my own sinuses feel. In a blur of motion, Coty lunges at Jason, aiming for a second hit, but everyone jumps into action, separating the two. Jason doubles over, howling in pain as his nose bleeds uncontrollably.
“You’re done. Don’t show here again.”
“What the fuck, man? What’s so fucking great about her anyway?”
Beckett calls down, “Yo, J, you heard him. You’re out.”
Jason throws his hands up, letting the blood flow freely. “First Tony, now me? You’re choosing this skank over your boys? Pussy better be fucking good if you’re going through this much trouble.”
Eyes widening, I open my mouth to tell this loser off but Coty lands another punch, this one across the jaw. Jason falls backward, ass meeting concrete in an almost comical slow-motion feat. Luckily for him, he stays there.
“Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back. I see you near her again and you’ll be cut from the races, too.”
My eyebrows lurch.
“You wouldn’t!”
“He would.”
I jump at the thunderous tone from the step above me. Marc stands with his arms across his chest, eyes fixed on the bleeding mess in front of him.
Jason squints up at the group gathered around and jerks a nod. Some help him stand but others shoulder past, returning to the apartment, not one looking my way.
Coty, tightly coiled and unmoving, watches silently as Jason makes his way to a nearby car with help from a friend. His back tenses waiting for them to leave. Only when the car’s out of sight does he breathe fully, turning to look at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Beckett smiling before he goes back inside.
The stairwell finally empty, I study Coty as he slowly approaches, eyes locked on mine the entire time.
“Some party.”
“Will you come upstairs with me?”
“I live upstairs.”
“No, to my place.”
“So I can meet more of your friends?” I give him a pointed look. “I don’t think they like me.”
“Fuck them.”
“No, thanks. I’m tired.” His hand—his bloody hand—shoots out, stopping me before I can even try to escape. “Oh my god. That needs to be cleaned.” I grab at it but he pulls the damn thing back. The other hand snakes around my waist, bringing me against his front. His alcohol tinted breath dances over my face.
“Come upstairs with me,” he pleads.
“Get one of your friends to clean your hand.”
“I’ll kick them all out and then you’ll have to,” he jokes—I think. “Come with me.”
“You’re crazy.”
&nb
sp; “You’re beautiful,” he counters, making my heart squeeze. Never getting compliments growing up has made me suspicious whenever one is given to me. The problem is Coty sounds and acts sincere and while I still wonder if he means it, I realize I want him to.
I push against his chest, asking him to release me. Not yet finished, he drags his hand down my arm, reaching my hand. Our fingers lace together like it’s the most natural thing in the world, then he leads me upstairs.
He stops at his door and waits. He’s leaving the decision up to me—again. Always.
Shaking my head, I turn the knob. “I’ll help clean it, then I’m leaving.”
Coty remains close behind, keeping our hands entwined as we enter. Almost instantly, there’s a whoop from across the room. Beckett.
“If I knew that’s all it took to get you to party with us, I would’ve been knocking people out this whole time.”
“You’re a moron,” I joke.
He somehow disentangles the girl attached to his side and makes his way over to us. I watch in wonder as people move aside for his mountainous form.
“What can I get you to drink?”
I blanch, remembering his idea of a drink.
“I’m just here to take care of this,” I say, gesturing to Coty’s bloodied hand with my free one.
His eyes grow wide. “Oh, shit. I’ll get the vodka.”
“I’m not using vodka. I need soap and water.” I roll my eyes.
“The vodka’s for me.” Coty grabs the bottle from Beckett and nudges me forward. “We can use the bathroom.”
Oh. Yeah, I knew that.
Tucked away in the bathroom, Dermot Kennedy’s “Power Over Me” drifts from down the hall. Coty closes the door, muffling the song and crowd noise significantly. Next, I’m spun and pressed against said door, Coty’s face burrowing into the crook of my neck.