by Sasha Hibbs
“Autumn—” he began, but I cut him off.
“Mom, Dad, I know we usually go out on Fridays, by the way, glad you’re home, Dad, but there are some friends from school going to see Zombieland tonight at the mall, and I wanted to go,” I said in a rush, poorly winging it.
They exchanged glances, looked back at me and before they could say anything, I quickly tried to salvage my lame attempt.
“Zombieland, it’s based off a New York Times bestseller, and Mr. Romano is exploring modern literature. If we go we get extra credit, and you know I have to keep my grades up.” I forced a smile, hoping that would lend some credibility to my lie. I rolled my eyes to imply I was shocked they hadn’t heard of it. Also, tutoring Mickey was part of Mr. Romano’s idea, so I figured it was okay to incorporate him into the lie.
“Oh, um, I guess that’s fine,” Mom said.
“What time is your movie?” Dad asked.
“It starts at eight, and I think the running time is a hundred and twenty-one minutes, so I should be home no later than eleven.” I crossed my fingers behind my back, praying they’d go for it.
“Eleven? That’s kind of late.” My dad eyed me critically, instantly making me nervous he’d change his mind.
“Oh, Frank, she’s almost eighteen. It’s Friday. The mall is only five minutes away.” My mother turned toward my dad, waving at him as though he were being ridiculous. I felt bad that they trusted me, but up until now, they’d never had a reason not to. Unless they counted my one moment of stupidity when I spray painted the side of the school. I guess the reasons were starting to pile up.
“Be home no later than eleven-thirty, got it?” My mom smiled at me, making me feel worse for lying.
“Absolutely!” I hugged my mom, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then stretched up on my tiptoes to do the same with my dad.
Before I lost the nerve, I raced off to my bedroom. I didn’t know what was going on in the old boiler plant, but I needed a shower and change of clothes before finding out.
Chapter Five
Freshly showered and dressed, I applied a thin layer of mascara, put on some nude lip gloss, and slipped into my red ballet flats. As I ran out of the door, I grabbed my denim jacket. I jumped in my Jetta and as I pulled out of the driveway, I remembered Dakota telling me to make sure I had cash on me.
I drove to the nearest ATM and took out twenty in cash. If my parents asked why I didn’t use my debit card, I’d tell them I wanted to have cash on me in case the movie theater’s credit card machine wasn’t working. And planning ahead, if that was the case, I didn’t want to waste another ten imperative minutes walking to the other end of the mall to their ATM machine and risk being late. It was a challenge to create lies and then remember them. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use any of them.
I drove the back way into Anmoore on the off chance my parents or someone who knew us would spot me. The boiler plant was right in front of the last stop light. I turned into the lane that would take me through to the front of the building. I didn’t see any lights, then navigated around the parking lot until I found an alleyway on the left side of the boiler plant. I pulled in and exhaled a long breath as I exited and saw there was a gravel parking lot behind the boiler plant that actually had cars in it. I wedged the Jetta between two other cars, parked, and turned off the ignition. I tucked my purse underneath the passenger side seat and jammed the twenty in my jeans pocket. I slipped out of the car and pressed the lock button on my keys.
I looked around the parking lot at all the beat-up cars and suddenly wondered if I should’ve brought someone with me. But who? I didn’t really have any friends. I wondered if Dakota would’ve come. But then again, he was so small, he couldn’t have protected me. It would’ve probably been the other way around.
I scanned the area for the yellow line Dakota told me about when I spotted the raggedy-looking truck that belonged to Daniel McGregor. Okay. So there would be someone here indirectly that I knew.
The gravel kind of hurt my feet as I walked through the parking lot. The soles of my ballet flats were thin, but I figured after my last run in with Mickey, it would be a while before I tackled heels again. I walked toward the boiler plant, my head down, looking for this yellow line Dakota told me about, when I heard a few feminine voices. I glanced up and spotted two girls who looked around my age, chatting as they leaned up against the side of the building. I made my way toward them. They turned to glance at me as I approached.
“Hi,” I said, taking one hand out and waving.
They looked me up and down. It was uncomfortable being judged, if that’s what they were doing, but I tried not to pay any attention to it.
“I’m here to see Mickey—” I said, but the blonde to the right cut me off.
“Mickey Costello versus Jared Hayes? Aren’t we all?” she said, with a girly giggle. “If you thought the fight last weekend was awesome, this one’s going to be awesomer!”
My mind instantly flashed back to my close up with Mickey earlier in the week. I noticed the cuts and bruises around his eyes, but had been so wrapped up in those beautiful and distracting irises, I hadn’t given too much thought into how he actually acquired his injuries.
“I know!” I said, feigning excitement. “I missed last week because I was sick. And I’ve only ever been here once before. I know there was a yellow line that led to the bottom. Can one of you point me in the right direction?”
“It’s right around there,” the girl on the right said. She pointed out what I was looking for. I followed the line of her gaze and saw a yellow line on the wall, not on the ground like I anticipated.
“That’s right.” I gently smacked the side of my head like I was an idiot. “Thanks,” I said over my shoulder as I walked toward the entrance.
“Who you cheering for?” the blonde asked.
I paused and turned back around.
“I heard Jared’s pretty good. What do you all think?” I thought maybe one of them would tell me something that would give me an indication of who was who and what was what.
“Mickey’s going to knock him out!” she said.
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
“Because he’s never lost a fight.”
I turned and resumed my course. Fighting? I knew Mickey was somewhat of a bad boy, but now? He fought? For what?
I found the bottom-level entrance with a large man standing guard at the door. Was this guy a bouncer, a gangster, or both? I held my head high like I knew exactly what I was doing and pulled out my twenty. He looked at me through narrowed eyes. Oh, no. He was leery of me.
“Keep the change,” I said, shoving the twenty-dollar bill in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for this fight all week!”
I smiled, head held high as I willed him to open the door. I saw him relax a little as he stretched a large hand to push against the metal door leading to my acceptance. I breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. I didn’t hesitate. I hurried through the door, never giving Mr. Big Bouncer guy another glance. I scurried down a flight of steps, not sure what to expect except that now I knew Mickey was a fighter.
As I trailed down the rickety metal steps, I wondered what kind of fighter Mickey was. What exactly was I walking into? I could hear noise carrying up from the bottom level. Loud voices and cheering grew more audible the closer I got. I briefly thought about turning around and leaving, but I was becoming desperate to reach Mickey. My grades meant the world to me. And if keeping my slot as valedictorian entailed going to some shady underground fight, then that was exactly what I would do. What was the worst that could happen?
I kept asking myself that as I finally made it to what I assumed was a basement of sorts, a large room with a concrete floor and a maze of pipes running along the ceiling. Through a labyrinth of cheering people, cigarette smoke, and blaring music, I spotted a large ring centered in the room. And in the middle of said ring was Mickey and who I presumed to be Jared Hayes.
Nothing more than boxing shorts on
, I watched the two make rounds, jabbing each other as the crowd roared. The scene in front of me certainly explained the bruises and cuts around his eyes. The only question I had was why would Mickey be fighting in the first place?
I squeezed through the tight crowd, attempting to get closer to Mickey. He looked rather engaged, but I’d figured this was as good an opportunity as any. I felt like I was making progress when two college boys flanked either side of me. I ignored them, trying to shove past when the one to the right of me grabbed my elbow.
“Hey. I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, his lips curving in a way that made me sick.
I jerked my arm away, held my Chamberlain head high and said, “I don’t generally make an appearance here. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I went to step away when the one wearing a blue and gold WVU hoodie blocked my path.
“My friend and I only wanted to know if you’d like to go with us to the after-fight party in Morgantown.”
This time I ignored both of them. I wanted to disappear in the crowd. Get away from them and get to Mickey. I sidestepped my way around them, quickly squirming in and out of the crowd. I was almost to the side of the ring Mickey was on when I finally spotted Daniel and Sean. There was a bit of relief in front of me but Creepy One and Creepy Two were still behind me.
“Daniel!” I screamed, waving my hands back and forth.
Suddenly, I felt arms seizing me around the waist. Those arms turned me around. I was staring up into the eyes of Mr. WVU Hoodie.
“Hey, princess. No need to run away. We just want to have some fun. Come on. There’ll be a keg and music.”
I tried to push myself away from him. The smell of his beer breath made me feel nauseous. “I said no!”
Through the screaming voices, I could faintly hear footsteps coming up behind me.
“Hey, man. Let her go,” Daniel said.
“If it ain’t one of Mickey’s boys,” Mr. WVU Hoodie said.
“Do you know who she is?” Daniel asked, standing close enough to grab me if it came to that.
“No,” Mr. WVU Hoodie said, raising an eyebrow, glancing at me like it would come together somehow.
I broke apart from him and as Daniel opened his mouth to tell them both, I’m sure, that I was Autumn Chamberlain, daughter to one of the wealthiest families in the area which meant I had infinite connections with, like, say, the police, I jumped in.
“I’m Mickey’s girl,” I said, nervously glancing at Daniel in the hopes he’d keep his mouth shut, and then quickly glancing back at Mr. WVU Hoodie and his friend. I brushed myself off as though he’d tainted my clothes and then continued with the lie, something I was getting good at.
“That’s right. I’m Mickey Costello’s girl. The name’s Autumn. I don’t know who you two are, but I don’t think he’d like either of you putting a single hand on me. So, the next time I tell you no, that’s exactly what I mean.” I kept my gaze planted on both of them while taking a few steps backward until my back met with a solid wall.
I put my hands behind me, feeling what kind of barrier I’d ran into. I could feel bare skin, wet with sweat and the feel of silk shorts right under my palms. I gulped. Turning around, I looked up into those blue eyes.
“Mickey…”
“Autumn,” he said, his gaze piercing through me. “Is there a problem here, boys?” He never took his gaze off mine. Under his sharp stare, my courage began to falter.
“Uh, no, man. We had no idea she was your girl,” the one not wearing the hoodie said.
“My girl?” Mickey said, his gaze leaving mine briefly to look at them.
He was going to blow my cover and I did not want to deal with either creeps.
“That’s right,” I said quickly. I turned to the side so I could look directly at them as I splayed one hand on Mickey’s sweaty chest and used the other one to wrap around his waist.
“You’d better ask me something quick,” Mickey said against my ear.
I looked up at him. “Huh?”
He rolled his eyes but didn’t move away from me. “Well, actually, guys…”
Oh, God! He was going to blow this whole lie wide open.
“Kiss me,” I said through a gritted smile.
“What’s that, hon?” Mickey said so only I could hear.
I glanced quickly in the direction of the two creepy college boys. I had no choice.
“Will you please kiss me?” I said. I could’ve killed him. He knew I was in a sticky situation and he was completely taking advantage of me.
“Anything for my girl,” he said, turning me so quick I had no time to brace myself for what came next.
Calloused hands bit into the small of my back as my head tilted up by his lips crashing into mine. He’d kissed me so hard and fast that I felt dizzy, so dizzy I had to lean on him when he turned me around, grabbing my waist, shoving me into his side.
“Whatever,” Mr. WVU Hoodie said while jutting his chin in the air. “Wait ’til it’s your turn with our boy, Leo. You’re not going to walk away from that fight.”
Mickey let go of me and advanced toward them. They stood their ground. What was going on? I could feel the heat radiate off Mickey as he charged both creeps when from my peripheral vision, Daniel and Sean grabbed Mickey on either side.
“Stop, Mickey. They’re not worth it. Your time will come,” Daniel said. “You know the rules. You can’t lose your temper here. Save it for the ring.”
“Leo the Lion is going to tear you apart,” Mr. WVU Hoodie said.
I watched both guys grin, something dark glinting in their gazes.
“They’re trying to taunt you into a fight, man. Just walk away,” Sean said.
Mickey jerked away from Daniel and Sean and walked back to the ring.
I ran after him.
“Hey, hey! Mickey!” I shouted after him.
Clutching the side of the ring, he paused and turned back to look at me.
“So a deal’s a deal. Right?” I said.
“What deal?” he asked, a smirk gleaming in his gaze.
I tried to control my irritation. “You said the day I asked you to kiss me, you’d let me tutor you. Remember?”
I knew he did, I didn’t care how cool he acted for everyone else.
“Hardly. I just bailed you out of a bad situation. I don’t think that constitutes you holding up your end of the deal. You needed me to kiss you. Remember?” The last part was him throwing my own words back at me. My blood started to boil and my tongue became tied. He had me. Again he knew it, but I didn’t know what to do.
Pride. I still had that. For the second time, Mickey had managed to not necessarily put me in my place, but make me feel out of place. I turned on my heel, ready to bolt, when I felt a hand circle my wrist.
“Come on, aren’t you going to at least try?”
I jerked my hand away from Mickey’s.
“I just did,” I said.
I never looked back. I wove in and out of the crowd, back up the steel steps and hurried through the exit. I never saw the creepy college guys again. Hopefully the ruse of my being Mickey’s girlfriend was enough of a warning to keep them at bay. While I never saw them again, the flat tire I currently stared at told me they’d left their mark.
Chapter Six
Flashing the time on my iPhone, at 9:37 p.m., I had little over an hour left to figure something out. If I called my dad, I’d be in serious trouble. With the school graffiti incident still fresh, they’d kill me after this. There was no way I could call them. I contemplated calling Mary, but what could she do?
With her speech about me cleaning up my own mess haunting me, she was on the list of people to never call. I’d lied, then lied again, and now here I sat in a car with a flat tire. I thought about creating more lies as to why I was here instead of the movies, but the more I thought about it, the thicker the snare became. I was trapped in my own web.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I watched as the crowd below slowly emerged an
d trickled into their cars and then started pulling out of the parking lot. I opened the car door and in defeat slouched down in my seat. I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, dreading the phone call I was going to have to make when the thud of someone knocking on my window made me jerk my head up.
Mickey.
I stared at him for several seconds before he motioned for me to roll my window down. Inwardly sighing, I pushed the button to roll down my window.
“You’re having a crap night,” Mickey said, a smile playing at his lips, glancing from the flat tire back to me. Mickey thinking this was remotely funny pissed me off. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I flung my car door open so fast it caused Mickey to jump back in surprise.
“You know what? This is all your fault!” My anger continued to rise with each word that flew out of my mouth. “It’s my job to tutor you because you’re failing Mr. Romano’s class. I ask you nicely and then you skip for another week. I lied to my parents because I found out where you’d be tonight. I told them I was going to see a movie, but instead I came here to try and reason with you again, only to be grabbed and jerked around by two college assholes, who I have no doubt did this to my car.” I pointed at the flat tire. “And now I’m going to have to call my dad, because guess what? I don’t know how to change a damn tire, so not only is my grade going to be damaged by your lack of seriousness, but now I’m going to be grounded for the rest of my life when my dad comes and busts me, because there’s no way I’m lying my way out of this.”
I noticed Mickey had changed out of his fighting gear at some point into jeans that I was all too aware were clinging onto his narrow hips. He looked so suave. It irritated me further that he stared at me, looking amused with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. It was like he was mocking me.
I threw my hands up in the air. “What do you want, Mickey? Did you come to gloat some more?”
“No,” he said softly. “I came to see if you wanted me to change your tire.”
“Huh?” I blinked several times.