“Yeah, Drake beat my ass regularly.” I think about my summer spent at my gym in Queens. “Hey, remember what we did to Robbie last year? That was a fucking ass beating for the ages,” I reminisce as I plop down on the couch and take a drink of my Gatorade.
“Yeah, well he deserved that shit after what he did to Kiernan,” Rhodes replies with a frown, remembering that Robbie attempted to rape our roommate’s girlfriend at a party last year.
“That’s true. He did. I’ve never felt better than when I pushed those staples into his chest,” I reply. He deserved so much worse and with every click of that stapler I felt we were defending Kiernan’s honor. For once, a fight felt noble. “He cried like a little bitch.”
“That was fucking sick, bro, and I don’t mean that in a good way. That was fucked up. I’ll never get the image of that blood dripping down his chest out of my head,” Rhodes says with a shiver.
“Don’t be a pussy. I’m gonna go nap. I’m fucking wiped,” I reply and trudge upstairs to my bedroom.
Fighting makes my blood run hot and makes me feel alive. Living numb and alone tends to kill a person’s give-a-damn. Watching blood drip and feeling bones crack lights me up. I’ve seen a therapist for my anger issues, and he always said that I’m a royal dick because I don’t receive consequences for my actions and as a result I lack remorse, but fuck that – I’d rather just drill motherfuckers into the ground.
The only other thing that calms my anger is fucking chicks. We have an extra room on the main floor that we call “The Office” because that’s “where the work gets done.” It has a mattress on the floor with a bowl full of condoms next to it. God forbid if a crime scene unit ever investigates this house with black lights.
My boys and I pull a lot of ass. A lot. Rhodes gets the most by far. His ass is a hot commodity with those dark brown eyes standing out from his light caramel skin. He is a sexy motherfucker and I’m not afraid to admit it. Bateman is a tall, lanky son of a bitch. He’s a wide receiver and at six-foot-five-inches tall he is by far the tallest out of all of us. He used to get laid at will, but he’s been pussy whipped for over a year now by his girlfriend, Blaire. They practically live together. Jaxon Taylor, the newb, has long blond hair like Sunshine from Remember the Titans. He’s a West Coast boy, about six-foot, tan and skinny. I bet the ladies will love his West Coast looks, so I’m guessing he will fit in just fine here.
Two hours later, I walk back downstairs after my nap, head to the kitchen to grab a beer and plop down next to my roommates, who are now battling it out in a game of Madden. Rhodes takes this shit too seriously, which makes me laugh because he always fucking loses.
“Fuck you, Jax!” he shouts.
“Bro, not my fault you suck at this game,” Jax replies with a shrug. It’s true. Rhodes is fucking terrible at the game, but he really believes every game he is going to win. This is our second Xbox. When I beat him once last year, he threw the unit out the front door and into the street, where it shattered, and then was hit by a car. Not only did I have to buy a new Xbox, but I ended up having to pay for the damage it caused to the piece of shit Chrysler Sebring that ran it over, because Rhodes is fucking broke.
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask as I take a swig. I’m rejuvenated after my nap, and although classes start Monday, the Pi Kappa back to school bash won’t be until next weekend.
“Are you fucking kidding me, bro?” Jax asks. “You have energy for anything after that grueling day? Thank God it's over, I couldn’t take anymore three-a-days. I’m not a school person, but I’m glad class is starting Monday.”
“Kinzy is coming over at eleven,” Rhodes shrugs. “Fuck!” he screams at the TV and throws the controller into the wall.
“Interception to seal the deal.” Jax tosses the controller onto the coffee table in victory. He leans back with his hands interlocked and rests them on the top of his head. “You have enough energy to bang a chick?” he asks and shakes his head.
“You better buck up, dude,” I reply. “We go hard all day and all night. You best get your shit together.”
“Yeah, Lauren might be coming with Kinzy,” Rhodes says. “You want in?” he offers to both of us. Rhodes has been off the rails since he hooked up with Tori Watley, Bateman’s girlfriend’s roommate, at the end of last semester, and then she broke his heart. Rhodes thought he was in love (which I don’t believe in, by the way), then she went home for the summer and broke up with him without an explanation. Rhodes was fucking crushed and as a result he’s been burying himself in alcohol, weed and pussy. They were only fucking for a hot minute, so I feel like there is more to it than just some chick breaking up with him. They weren’t really even dating.
“Three dudes and two chicks? Pass. I’m not into your STD-infested sausage,” I deadpan.
“Clean as a whistle, motherfucker,” he quips.
“Are they hot?” Jax asks, intrigued.
“This dude right here.” Rhodes laughs and puts Jax in a headlock because that is a stupid fucking question. “That’s all we do, bro. Play ball, fuck hot chicks, and drink beer. Sometimes we sleep, eat and go to class. Better get on board.”
“Actually, sometimes we drink whiskey.” I smile at Rhodes.
“I’m gonna like it here.” Jax smiles. “I’m gonna shower, cuz I’m in if Blake passes.”
Chapter 4: Maisy
Today is my last day with Chet and Jo, and it’s bittersweet. Jo gives me the longest, softest grandmother hug I have ever received.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She cups my cheeks. “We are going to miss you so much.”
“You’re just going to miss my coffee delivery skills,” I chuckle. Goodbyes are so awkward and uncomfortable especially when someone will inevitably say that it isn’t goodbye just see ya later.
“I will miss much more than that, dear,” she exhales and hugs me tighter.
“Maisy, you’re welcome back anytime, and my offer about law school stands.” Chet gives me a quick side-squeeze. He is not the emotional hugging type. “Here.” He shoves a box at me. “Figured you’d need this at school. It’s not much, but I know you won’t accept more. I gotta get to a meeting.” He stomps off. That’s the only way Chet knows how to deal with his emotions. He could pay for everything I need, but he knows I would never accept charity. I know whatever is in this box, he bought with that in mind.
“Bye, Jo.” I wave as I walk to the elevator for the last time.
“It’s not goodbye, my sweet girl, it’s see ya later.” She smiles. There it is. I laugh under my breath as the elevator dings.
I leave for Cambria tomorrow morning, and I have butterflies in my tummy just thinking about it. I enjoy my last bus ride home from L.A. I will miss this too, even though I griped about it a lot. The bus usually smells like pee and stale beer. But today it makes me sad that this is my last ride. Last ride until next summer, I remind myself. I open my gift from Chet on the bus - my own laptop. He was right, a laptop will come in handy at Cambria. I make a mental note to send Chet a thank you letter, not just for the laptop, but for being a father-like boss to me. As much as I thought I hated that job, I had it pretty good, and I need to appreciate that.
The bus pulls up to its stop, three blocks from Mabel’s cat-infested house. As I walk back with my very own laptop tucked under my arm, I think about my life before my dad got busted. We lived in a palatial estate on Calle de Rosas in Vista del Cielo. The house was beautiful, with high coffered ceilings, wainscoting, European white oak flooring and black marble fireplaces. The chef’s kitchen had natural black soapstone counters and a double island, and the pool out back with a rock fountain was my favorite part of the house.
Now I live in a small one-bedroom house in the west side of L.A. with what feels like a million cats and the Marlboro man’s grandmother. It’s white with black shutters and there are iron bars on the windows and doors for protection. Not that those are much of a deterrent. Luckily, Mabel doesn’t own much except cats, so we’re not really a target fo
r break-ins. There are far worse neighborhoods in the L.A. area, but Mabel’s neighborhood isn’t what we would call safe. You can count on at least one gang shooting every couple days. It was this or foster care, so I need to remind myself to be grateful.
I crash on my sleek satin sheets and purple and white striped comforter on top of Mabel’s couch, glancing around at my suitcases and boxes, I text Kali, who is my ultimate female BFF.
“Kal, what’s up? Going to Pete’s?”
I begin setting up my laptop and thinking about what type of jobs there might be for me in Woodbury. I pay for my own cellphone, and while my scholarship covers most of my tuition, I’ll need spending money and food too. Thinking about that makes me nervous and kicks up my stress level, but I know I can do this. I am a fighter and a survivor.
My phone pings, indicating that Kali responded.
“Ya, around 8. Gotta go to dinner with mom and her fucking new boyfriend. Not sure why. He will be gone by Sunday. You going even though you leave mañana?”
“Yup, going to surf first. Wish you could come.”
“Me too. This is going to be painful like always. Lying to the poor fucker who thinks he will be my future stepdad. We bonfiring tonight again?”
“Hope so. One more night in my best place with my best people. I’ll see you there, KalPal.”
“I’m gonna fucking miss you, loser.”
My friends are laid back and awesome for being from Vista del Cielo. We went to high school with the entitled sons and daughters of other ultra-rich people. Think Mean Girls on steroids. The designer clothes, fancy cars, and constant one-upping just to make someone else look bad just isn’t our scene, which is what brought us together in the first place. They are the only thing I missed about high school when I spent my days at UCLA.
Bates, Kali, Monét, Ruby and Brody are not pretentious. Their parents are loaded, but they come from broken homes too. Their parents are overworked drug and plastic surgery addicts who are too busy to care that their kids exist. So even though my friends live with their moms or dads, they are alone like me. We take care of each other, love each other, and would do anything for one another. And to me, that means something.
We usually hang out at Pete’s beach house until the early morning hours, then we head to the beach and start a fire, lay around, drink, hook up and watch the sunrise. I don’t drink or do any sort of drugs, but I love being with my friends, and they’re cool with that.
I text Bates to let him know I’m going surfing first.
“Hey. Out to the waves in 20.”
“Already in.”
“See ya soon.”
“You’ll be seeing a lot of me.”
“Never.”
And yet another sexual comment. He could have a different girl in his bed in five minutes if he wanted to. There are so many chicks that want to sleep with Bates, it makes me concerned that his dick is going be so overworked it packs up and quits on the job. Sometimes I can tell my indifference to his sexual encounters bothers him, but I really just don’t care.
✽✽✽
After a quick nap, I throw on a pink bikini, cut-off jean shorts I made from a thrift store find, a white cotton tank top with a wave I embroidered on the back between my shoulder blades, and my flip flops. I throw my black hair into a messy bun, grab a towel and water bottle and head out to the bus stop. Vista del Cielo is a quick ride from Mabel’s.
“See you later, Mabel,” I say as I head out.
“Yeah.” She nods while cutting her pepperoni Hot Pocket. She’s sitting in a recliner with a TV tray, watching Wheel of Fortune. One of the million cats is sitting on the tray, licking its paws while she eats. Gross.
I grab a board from the Surf Hut and trek to my favorite spot far away from the pier. The pier is full of tourists who are annoying and needy. I drop my stuff in the sand and strip down to my bathing suit. The warm breeze feels heavenly on my skin.
I hear a whistle and turn to see Bates strolling over. A lanky brunette is clawing at him like she’s a kitten and he’s the scratching post. Ish. Desperation is so unattractive.
“Hey, bro. What’s up?” I nod.
“Nothing. Gigi and I are heading to the Surf Hut real quick.” He winks. I know exactly what that means, and I know if I asked him to ditch the kitty on his arm that he would in a heartbeat, but she looks like she needs some penetration badly. Bates will screw Miss Gigi until her head explodes, and then he’ll meet me out in the water. His reputation in the bedroom is that of a lady slayer. Our encounter? Not so much. I think that is why he’s always soliciting me - he wants a re-do.
“You still leaving tomorrow?” he asks.
“That’s the plan,” I reply. He hangs his head for a second and shifts his gaze to the water. “What?”
“Nothing,” he sighs. “Let’s go, chica, this dick won’t suck itself.” Gigi giggles while I roll my eyes and head for the water.
I ride a few small waves before the sun sets and it’s time to change to head to Pete’s. Bates never came back and that’s okay. I like being alone on the water. The surf wasn’t spectacular, but again, the worst day out here is better than a great day anywhere else. My happy place. My peace. I text Kali again while I get dressed.
“Hey, you guys there yet?”
“Just got here. It’s fucking packed already. You here?”
“Nah, just leaving the beach. 10. I’ll be there.”
“K.”
I walk up the beach to put my board back in the Surf Hut and head to Pete’s beach house. The house isn’t far from where I was surfing so I walk there.
Pete Castillo is a burned-out surfer who owns the Surf Hut. He looks like Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. He dropped out of Vista del Cielo like five years ago and sold weed to the kids at VCHS until he had enough to open his shop. Now, he gives surf lessons and sells beach stuff in his store to tourists and locals. He has everything from sex wax and surfboards to swimsuits and sunglasses, plus he still sells weed to locals like Bates. Every weekend, Pete throws epic parties and we’re on his guest list thanks to Bates. Those two are the same person, but born six years apart.
Pete’s house is a two-story beach house that has a couch, a couple folding chairs, and TV trays, no tables. There is a 32-inch 1994 box TV in the corner on one of the TV trays. I don’t even know if it works. It's the worst. The walls are bright yellow and the floors are all tile except for dingy white carpet in the bedrooms. There are holes in the drywall throughout from the various fights that have broken out over the years and it reeks of weed, but the kitchen refrigerator is full of beer and the back door opens right out to the ocean.
“Maisy!” Monét squeals over the music. “You’re here!”
I shimmy my way passed several sweaty bodies grinding all over each other to my friends.
“Lookin’ good, Maze,” Brody smiles. Brody is a nice guy with a Cali tan, sandy brown hair shaved tight to his head and coiffed up in the front with chocolate eyes and sharp facial features. He has a small gap in his front teeth that he is constantly spitting through. Brody would have made a great boyfriend. He is kind and thoughtful, but has major trust issues thanks to his dad leaving them to start a new family.
“You too, Brods,” I reply. “You get out today?”
“Nah, had to work,” he sighs.
“Waves sucked anyway,” I reply. Even though I would be out there no matter what, I didn’t want to make him feel bad for not being able to get out on the water.
They each grab a beer from the fridge, I grab a bottle of water and we head out to the patio. We sit on the edge with our toes in the sand and listen to the waves crashing in as we chit chat, until I feel someone slide down next to me, which draws my attention away from my friends.
It’s Bates.
“Hey, babes.” He nudges me.
“Hey, Bates.”
“Sorry I didn’t make it back out today. Something came up.”
“Yeah, Gigi came up,” I chuckle and elbow him
softly.
“Oh, yeah, she came up over and over and over…” he quips and I elbow him in the side again.
Kali starts to squirm and Ruby’s face matches her name. They both have mad crushes on Bates and I’ve never figured out why he’s never tried to hook up with them. Kali is tall with hair so blond it’s almost white, blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Ruby is a feisty brunette with coffee-colored eyes, huge boobs, tiny waist and thick booty. She has a perfect hour-glass figure. Monét is my funkiest friend with bubblegum pink hair, green eyes, and pale skin that could burn in Canada in the winter. She is the most unique person I know. She’s always dressed like a rainbow, in random clothes that don’t match. She is tiny all over with a big, bright smile.
“Whacha guys talking about?” he asks as he takes a hit from his blunt. He offers it to me. I decline. He knows I don’t smoke weed, but he always offers in case one day I’ll change my mind. He shrugs and passes it the other way to Kali.
“Nothing, just life,” I reply.
“Maze was telling us about Cambria, and we’re pouting because she leaves tomorrow already.” Monét frowns as she takes a hit.
“Seriously?” He looks at me.
“Yup, you guys know this. Don’t make it harder than it is.” I force an uncomfortable laugh. I hate goodbyes.
“That fucking sucks,” he sighs.
“You knew I was leaving, Bates.”
“Not that. I should have come back out today. I fucked up,” he says and runs his hands through his hair. “Can we talk for a minute?”
All eyes shoot to me and Bates in the moment. He looks almost vulnerable and, sad, maybe.
“Sure.”
We stand and walk toward the beach. Just me and Bates. He’s still shirtless, and his board shorts are hanging off his hips, abs flexing with each step. Damn, he’s hot. And dirty, don’t forget, super dirty.
Once we’re out of earshot of the party, I stop and turn to him, “Is everything okay? You’re kinda freaking me out.” I have an uneasy feeling in my gut. This is strange behavior for him, and he’s making me nervous.
Redemption (Cambria University #2) Page 3