Jaybird

by M. A. Foster

  Before leaving California, I had a few loose ends to tie up. I met with Miles Townsend and gave him an interview. The article came out two days ago in the August issue of Rhythm & Riffs, which I plan to read during the plane ride to Florida. There’s a cartoon version of me on the cover because Mom doesn’t want pictures of me floating around on the Internet and risking the chance someone will recognize me. Since the album release has been moved, there’s no hurry to expose my identity.

  The cartoon version of me came out a little sexier than she’d expected. Personally, I think I look pretty damn hot.

  After my interview, Miles and I hung out for a little while. He’s a cool guy and he had some interesting stories about my dad, Andrew, Tommy, and Chaz with his dad, Davie. Miles proposed doing a tribute article in next year’s February issue, with the whole magazine dedicated to the memory of Marcus King. I loved it and, of course, I bawled my eyes out. Miles agreed to let me read the article before it went to print .

  I also posed for Anna Sizemore’s “Girl Next Door” fashion campaign in exchange for her assistance in designing some Project Mayhem T-shirts and hats. Working with Anna was an awesome experience and I can now check modeling off my list of new things to try.

  Now here we are, Mom, Bass, Grace, and me, on my new jet and heading to Heritage Bay, Florida.

  BRAD CLIMBS UP on a chair, sticks two fingers in his mouth, and blows out a whistle that can pierce an eardrum. “Yo! Listen up!”

  The loud chatter drops down to a low buzz. “A toast.” He raises a red Solo cup in the air. “To senior year!” A chorus of whistles ring out from the crowd. “And to my boys.” He pauses and stretches his neck. “Where’s Easton?” He searches the crowd until his eyes zero in on me and a devilish grin appears on his face. “Ah, there you are, you pretty sonofabitch.” He winks as more whistles and catcalls ring out.

  Shaking my head, I raise my beer, toasting the embarrassing asshole.

  “He’s also single, ladies.” I’m gonna kill him. “Show our QB some love, but not too much. He needs his energy for the field.” He raises his cup again in a salute. “Go, Hurricanes!”

  “Hurricanes!” the crowd echoes, followed by another round of whistles and catcalls.

  “Did he just call you pretty?” Evan asks, coming up beside me.

  I chuckle. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell the guy that I’m just not into him.”

  Evan laughs and bumps his fist against mine. If I’m the shy one out of the group, Evan is the silent, broody one. He’s good-looking, well-liked, and has been dating the same girl, Lexi, since the tenth grade.

  In Evan’s world, Lexi is the sun, moon, and stars. He doesn’t even look at other girls. Not that I blame him, of course. Lexi is hot, popular, and one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met. Unless you piss her off. I’m convinced her temper is a turn-on for Evan; sometimes I think he pisses her off on purpose. It wouldn’t surprise me if the two ended up married after high school.

  “What’s going on out here?” Lexi asks as she snakes her arms around Evan’s waist.

  Evan throws an arm around her shoulders and tucks her in to his side. “Where ya been, Lex?”

  “Inside cleaning and kicking everyone out.” She turns her attention to Brad who is now twerking on top of the lawn chair. Lexi shakes her head. “His big ass is gonna twerk himself right through that chair.”

  Evan and I burst out laughing.

  “Oh, hell, no,” Lexi growls, eyes narrowed, lip curled in disgust. Turning my head, I follow her line of sight and see Reagan heading our way.

  The girl I once considered to be the girl of my dreams turned out to be my worst nightmare.

  Reagan and I had only been officially together for two weeks when my dad and I flew out to California for Marcus King’s funeral.

  When I got back to school a couple of days later, there was a rumor going around that Reagan cheated on me. Reagan blamed Chelsea for starting the rumor because she was jealous and trying to break us up. Chelsea swore it was true and that she was just watching out for me. That is the reason why I hated relationships—drama. I decided to give Reagan the benefit of the doubt and let it go. I told Chelsea that I appreciated her looking out for me, but she had to let it go, too. If Reagan cheated on me, the truth would come out eventually.

  Besides, I was in love with Jay and I couldn’t help but constantly compare my feelings between the two. Ever since I came back from California, seeing Jay and admitting to myself and to my dad that I wasn’t over her, nor was I ready to be, I realized that everything with Reagan was purely physical. That wasn’t enough for me. I was miserable. And, admittedly, I started to pull away.

  Maybe Reagan knew that and that’s why, three months later, the little bitch cheated on me. At the junior prom after-party, for fuck’s sake.

  And that was the end of us. I guess that was Karma’s way of kicking me in the ass.

  “Just ignore her, Lex,” Evan says.

  Apparently, Reagan sent Evan a few texts the other night, asking him to come over and that no one had to know. Unfortunately for Reagan, it was Lexi who saw the texts first.

  And she flipped the fuck out.

  I’ve known Evan since kindergarten and I’ve never seen him so gone over a girl. Seriously, the guy was almost in tears when he showed up at my house, freaking out because he was afraid of losing her. After I calmed him down, I called Lexi and smoothed things over so Evan could go talk to her. I normally don’t involve myself in other people’s bullshit, but they’re my friends and I couldn’t help but feel responsible for what happened. I knew Reagan was messing with my friends to get my attention.

  But she’s wasting her time and making herself look desperate because my friends don’t even like her.

  “Fuck that, Evan. Whore!” Lexi shouts when Reagan walks past.

  Reagan stops and whirls around to face Lexi. The girl has some brass balls; I’ll give her that. Lexi is a little thing, but she’s a firecracker. I have no doubts that she’ll kick Reagan’s ass. “Excuse me?” Reagan tosses back.

  “For what? Being a whore?”

  She’s quick with the comebacks, too.

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Lexi? That text wasn’t meant for Evan,” Reagan explains in her defense. Evan keeps his arm around Lexi’s waist to keep her from pouncing on Reagan.

  “Oh, really? That’s funny since your text said no one has to know. You lying bitch-ass ho!” Lexi leans in and jabs her finger in Reagan’s face.

  I bring my fist to my mouth to mask my smile. Sweet little Lexi has transformed into ghetto Lexi. I kind of like ghetto Lexi. I watch and wait with bated breath to see if she’ll kick off her flip-flops and start taking off her jewelry.

  Brad moves to stand beside me, grinning. Shaking his head slowly, he sighs. “Our little Lexi is growing up so fast. Where did the time go?”

  I chuckle.

  “Get your finger out of my face,” Reagan slaps Lexi’s hand away. “Before I break it.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Uh-oh,” Brad murmurs.

  “Oh, really?” Lexi laughs before she lunges at Reagan, grabbing her by the hair.

  “Shit!” Evan yells, struggling to pull Lexi away.

  “You gonna break my finger?” Lexi presses her index finger into Reagan’s forehead. “How about I break your fingers so you can’t use them to text my boyfriend or anyone else’s, stupid whore.”

  “Guys, a little help,” Evan grunts, jerking his head back to avoid getting clawed to death in the middle of this catfight.

  As much as I love watching Reagan get her ass handed to her by Lexi, I reach out and pry Lexi’s claws from Reagan’s hair as Brad grabs Reagan. Lexi snarls like a wild animal. Evan bends at the knees, scoops her over his shoulder and carries her toward the house, all while Lexi kicks, screams, and slaps at his back.

  “Put me down, Evan!” Lexi lifts her head and points at me. “Zach, you traitor!” She moves her finger to Brad. “I just cleaned y
our kitchen, asshole, and this is the thanks I get. I’ll remember that, you guys.” Then to Reagan, she shouts, “Text my boyfriend again, bitch, and next time I won’t go easy on you. Try me. See what happens.”

  Reagan’s friends gather around to console her and she looks over at me with her big doe eyes.

  Yeah, that look doesn’t work on me anymore.

  Brad wraps his arm around my neck and leads me away from Reagan. “I can’t believe she texted Evan. That girl must have a death wish.”

  “No shit,” I reply, grabbing one of my beers from the cooler.

  “Hey, Zach,” Piper purrs, cocking her hip and twirling her hair around her finger. She’s wearing a denim skirt that barely hits her thighs and a belly shirt with her cleavage peeking over the top. Piper dresses a little slutty and she’s got a reputation for having fantastic oral skills. I wouldn’t know; I try not to go where everyone has been. Doesn’t mean I don’t like Piper as a person. She’s one of the few who doesn’t get on my nerves. “Reagan is upset,” Piper informs me. And judging by her bored tone, she couldn’t care less. My bet is Ashton sent her over.

  “So. Why are you telling me?”

  Piper shrugs.

  Ashton walks up and clucks her tongue. “You should go talk to her, Zach.”

  “Why?” Brad asks.

  “Because she still loves you, Zach.”

  “You guys were together for like eight months,” Hannah adds, pursing her lips and making that stupid duck face that girls think makes them look sexy.

  These girls drive me fucking crazy. Ashton Grant is a bossy pain in the ass, but Hannah Scott is just a straight-up bitch. It’s possible she might even be a little crazy.

  Hannah and Brad dated for over a year and they only just recently broke up. Brad is one of those guys who everyone likes to be around. He knows how to have fun and never takes himself too seriously. Hannah is anti-Brad; dumping her was the best decision he’s ever made. And knowing Brad, it wasn’t easy for him.

  “She wants him back,” Hannah blabs on. Why is she still talking?

  “How is it any of your business?” I ask.

  Ashton turns to me. “I know you still love her.”

  Okay, whoa.

  Ashton has lost her mind. I never told Reagan that I loved her.

  I’ve only ever loved one girl.

  And it isn’t Reagan.

  “When did we go back to eighth grade?” I ask and Brad chuckles beside me.

  Piper shrugs as if to say “Oh, well, we tried.”

  “Seriously,” Brooklyn, Brad’s younger sister, cuts in. “This is Reagan’s problem. She should’ve kept it in her pants.” She shrugs.

  Brad and I chuckle. Brooklyn has never been the kind of girl to hold back her opinion.

  “She made a mistake. She’s still our best friend,” Ashton defends, glaring at her friends—her minions.

  Ashton and Chelsea were best friends last year and, for all I know, they still are. But now that Chelsea’s gone off to college, Ashton has taken over as the head varsity cheerleader and assumed the role of queen bee at the Academy.

  Or she likes to think so.

  I’m not a fan of Ashton Grant. She’s an annoying pain in the ass and she’s done some shady shit to her so-called friends. I have no idea what the hell Cole sees in her.

  I never used to be this much of a dick, but a broken heart and a cheating girlfriend can make any guy bitter.

  “Like you know how to be a friend,” I reply sarcastically, downing the last of my beer before tossing the bottle into the trash.

  “What are you talking about, Zach?” Ashton replies in a snotty tone.

  “Zach?” a female voice calls out from behind me. I twist around and see Lindsay Miller waving at me from the opposite side of the pool deck. Turning away from the bitch squad, I head over to her.

  “Hey, Lindsey.” I pull her in for a hug and step back. “I didn’t even know you were here. Have you been here all night?” Lindsay Miller is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever met. She dated Evan’s older brother, Grayson, off and on for a couple of years and we all liked her. Even Evan.

  Then Grayson crushed her and broke her heart when he hooked up with Reagan—my girlfriend—in a walk-in closet at the prom after-party.

  So, there’s that.

  Lindsay smiles. “I came with some friends. I didn’t know you were here either until Brad made that epic speech.” She laughs lightly, and gestures to Reagan with her cup. “I see you guys haven’t kissed and made up yet.”

  “No.” I smirk, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t date cheaters.”

  I haven’t dated anyone since Reagan and I broke up. I hooked up with a couple of girls at the beginning of summer, but I spent the rest of the summer training.

  “Me, either,” Lindsay says. “How was your summer?”

  Our traditional summer vacation with my grandparents didn’t happen this year—which didn’t surprise me—but I’ll admit I was kind of disappointed because I was hoping to see Jay. So, I spent the last few weeks of summer at football training camp with Cole, Justin, and Carter.

  I shrug. “I trained all summer.”

  “I see that.” She reaches out and squeezes my bicep.

  I’ve worked out hard all summer and it shows. I’m not a small guy, taking after my dad at six foot two, two hundred pounds. I was born to play football, just like him.

  “Lindsay!” her friends call out from where they’re gathered near the edge of the pool deck, waving for her to hurry up.

  She holds up her index finger, gesturing for them to wait. “Kristen’s my ride, so I have to go,” she says, disappointed. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  I answer her with a smirk and a look that says “Do you really need to ask?”

  She laughs. “Okay, so maybe we can catch up tomorrow.” She takes a few steps backwards with a flirty smile. “I still have your number, so I’ll text you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Bye, Zach.” She gives me a quick wave before turning around and hurrying off with her friends.

  “She wants the D,” Brad says from beside me as we both watch her fine denim-covered ass disappear around the side of the house.

  “Shut up, you jackass.” Even if that were true, it’s not happening.

  “YOU STILL MAD at me?” Evan asks, sticking out his bottom lip and pretending to pout. Lexi ignores him as she furiously flips through one of her celebrity gossip magazines. Her knee bounces frantically and I doubt she’s even looking at the pages.

  Oh, yeah. She’s pissed.

  After everyone left the party, Evan, Lexi, and I stuck around to help with the cleanup.

  Evan fights back a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

  “She’s lucky I didn’t rip her fucking hair out,” Lexi growls and I chuckle. She’s so feisty, it’s adorable.

  “Chill out, Lex. Why are you so pissed? You know I would never cheat on you. Even if I were single, I wouldn’t touch her. She’s not my type.”

  “You mean the whore type?” Lexi quips, making us all laugh.

  “Exactly.” Evan winks. “I think you made your point tonight, so let it go.” He chuckles. “You don’t need assault and battery on your permanent record.” Reagan’s father is a judge with a reputation for being ruthless in the courtroom.

  “If I go down, I’m taking that whore with me.” Her mouth pulls to the side. “I took a screenshot of all her texts and forwarded them to my phone. The next time she pisses me off, I’m gonna send them to the judge.”

  Brad turns to me and says, “Piper was looking extra busty tonight.” His change in subject is less than subtle. “Did she get a boob job over the summer, or does Victoria have new secret?”

  I nearly choke on my beer over a laugh. “How the hell should I know?” I say, wiping my mouth.

  “What are you laughing at, Evan?” Lexi glares.

  Evan’s smile falls from his face. “I’m laughing at them,” he explains before leaning over
to kiss her on the side of the head and shooting Brad and me a pleading sidelong look that says “Will you two shut the fuck up?”

  Evan lost his blow job virginity to Piper back in ninth grade before he and Lexi started going out. It was big news around school and, apparently, it still bothers Lexi.

  Girls.

  “You ever gonna tell us what happened with Hannah?” Evan turns the attention to Brad.

  Brad scowls as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “She tried to hook up with Brice.” This time it’s Evan who nearly chokes on his beer before barking out a laugh.

  Brice is a Brad’s older brother.

  And he’s gay.

  “No way!” Lexi throws her head back and laughs out loud. “Sounds like someone didn’t get the memo.”

  “I guess not.” Brad smirks and shakes his head. “She swears it was an accident. That she was drunk and thought she was in my bed.”

  “Maybe she’s telling the truth,” Lexi says. “It’s possible. Your bedroom is right next door to Brice’s. And if she was really drunk….”

  “Maybe.” Brad shrugs, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “If it hadn’t been for the fact that she grabbed his dick and said, ‘Let’s find out how gay you really are,’ I would’ve believed her.”

  “Oh, my God.” Lexi drops her head to the table and slaps it with her palm twice before she lifts her head back up and wipes away the tears from under her eyes. “I bet Brice was traumatized.”

  Brad shakes his head and chuckles. “He told my parents he’s suffering from PTSD.” He rolls his eyes. “He’s such a fucking drama queen.”

  “What did your mom say?” Lexi asks.

  Brad’s mom is the “cool mom” everyone goes to for advice because she’s down to earth, and doesn’t judge us based on our stupid teenage mistakes. I guess with five kids, you have to be open-minded.

  “She said to do whatever makes me happy. Good decision or bad decision, it’s still my decision. That’s all that matters.”

  We all say the last part in unison. Her famous words of wisdom. The woman gives good advice. Too bad I never took it a year ago.