by Valentina F.
"Mom, stop laughing!" I yell, but I'm grinning, too.
"So...sorry!" she apologizes, but she still doesn’t stop.
"Thanks, Mom, always very constructive talking with you." I stand up to leave but then hear Mark running downstairs.
"What's happening?" He’s laughing already and doesn't even know why.
Sometimes I envy him. He's always so relaxed, willing to see the funny side of anything. It must be incredible to be so carefree.
My mom wipes her tears with a cloth but can't hold back her hiccups.
"I was chatting with your mother," I reply, pretending to sound annoyed. "But it's obvious she doesn't take me seriously enough."
And she laughs again, almost falling off her chair.
"You going to make me laugh, too?" asks Mark, standing beside her, squeezing her shoulders.
Fortunately, my mother shakes her head and starts to pull herself together. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to make fun of you. Gosh, I haven't laughed like that in years. It feels so good."
"Are you done?" I ask, still feigning irritation. It's great to see her like this, not so great that I'm the cause of so much hilarity.
"Yes, I swear. Sorry." She suffocates another giggle. "Let's talk about it tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure…and perhaps I can tell you about the time I left her a rose on the dash of her car." That's it, I tip her over the edge into hysterical laughter again. Mark stares at me in confusion. "Mom, I’m joking!"
"This is about Cat, isn’t it?" The penny finally drops. "You know he calls her Blondie and every time he does, her face turns bright red."
"Please, please, stop! My stomach hurts!" Mom wipes away trails of mascara from around her eyes but still can't stop laughing.
As if my bad luck couldn't get any worse, the patio door opens and there they are: Jessica walks in first, followed by Cat, her head down. She's wearing a pair of white shorts and a black strapless top that rests on her hips. She's straightened her hair and it hangs softly around her face. She's wearing black eye makeup and a touch of pink lip-gloss and around her neck there's a flashy fuchsia choker, which matches the thousands of narrow bangles on her wrist. She looks sexy...and dangerous.
I can't breathe.
My mother puts a hand over her mouth, but she's still laughing.
"What's so funny?" asks Jessica. She reaches out, takes my mother's glass, downs the wine in one swallow then hands the glass back. "Ah, Jackie, thanks. I really needed that, you're awesome."
My mother gives her a light tap on the wrist. "I'm so happy right now, sweetie, I could even pour you another one."
"I’m not complaining!" Jessica's snappy reply makes her smile even more. "So, what's so funny, Mark? Come on, spill the beans."
"Nothing," I reply guiltily.
"Don't look at me, I got here too late." Mark shrugs and joins Cat, makes her do a quick twirl, and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh.
"Guys, it's a secret between me and my son." Mom turns to Jess, winks at her and adds, "I'll tell you later."
"Mom!" I yell and she starts laughing again.
She gets to her feet and walks over to Cat. "Mark, let her breathe." She takes Cat's hands and, hugging her tight, pulls her in close. Wide-eyed, Blondie looks over at me incredulously.
Kill me. Kill me now!
"Cat, you'll always be welcome here."
I close my eyes and shake my head, over and over, then put my face in my hands, wishing the ground would swallow me up.
"Oh, okay?! Thank you." Her accent echoes in my ears.
"We're leaving," I announce. I walk past my mother and grab Cat's hand dragging her behind me, through the patio door like a bulldozer.
"Honey, the garage is the other side!" My mother is just hilarious tonight. I stop and have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
"What's happening?" Cat asks, confused. Meanwhile, from the kitchen, I can hear them all laughing. They're having a great time making me look like an idiot.
I smile at Blondie and have to literally hold myself back from kissing the hell out of her. With her confused expression and sexy, rock-chick makeup she is absolutely radiant.
"They're just having fun..." I lock my fingers in hers and take her back inside. "Right...garage, over there...thanks, Mom!" My sarcastic 'thanks' makes her burst out laughing again, hardly able to breathe. "Mark, Jess, get moving or I'll leave you here!" I yell once we're out of the kitchen, but I know they're not going to follow us. Cat tries to resist and turns around several times to see where they are.
"We'll take Mom's car, see you at Frankie's!" my brother yells, laughing hysterically, too. My mom obviously filled him in on our little chat.
I pull open the small door to the garage and we're immersed in darkness. Cat huddles in close, but I know every inch of this room and lead her smoothly over to my Mustang. I'm about to open the passenger door when I'm suddenly filled with such passion that I practically shove Cat up against it, not violently but not exactly tenderly either.
"Ben." She's short of breath and I don't care if I'm being inappropriate. If she thinks I'm being an asshole she won't hesitate to slap me down. I kiss her anyway.
Caught off guard, she tries to push me away, her hands on my chest, but I need her too much. I run my tongue over her lips and feel her body jump a little against mine for a couple of seconds till she relaxes and puts her arms around my neck.
She's so warm and soft that my heart is pounding. All too soon, she pulls back and pushes me away. "What’s wrong with you?!"
I step back and, even though I can't see her in the dark, I know she's angry. Ah, well. If I have to, I'll find a hundred different ways to put the smile back on her face. "I missed you," I whisper softly, then I take another two steps back and hit the light switch.
The neon dazzles us and Cat instantly squeezes her eyes shut tight. I open the passenger door for her, which gives me a small feeling of satisfaction. Alpha male open door for little woman...more or less, anyway.
Cat rolls her eyes in irritation but slides into her seat without protest. "Why are they taking a different car? What happened in the kitchen?"
As usual, her bossy tone makes me smile. The more she digs her heels in, the more I want to contradict her. "I'll tell you, on one condition." The automatic garage door begins to open and I start the engine. Exasperated, she looks over at me and nods for me to continue. "Tell me you didn't mean a word of what you said over at Jess's place and I'll tell you exactly why my mother was laughing."
"Ben!" she exclaims, even more frustrated.
"No 'Bens'." We pull out of the garage and I take the road that leads in the opposite direction to Frankie's. It’s only three minutes from here and I need time to talk, so I take the long way around. "Tell me you didn't mean it, that I can't do whatever I want."
"Of course you can't!" she snaps, grabbing her seat belt. "I catch you in the parking lot with Casey, then you fix a date with Rachel, next thing, you're kissing me in the garage. Come on, Ben. If you think I'm going to sit here and put up with your games then you really don't know me..."
I'm not listening anymore. I pull over and throw myself on her. My little wildcat tries to act hard until her real personality explodes, overwhelming us both.
I have just enough time to clamp my mouth on hers before she wriggles out from under me, giving me a punch in the ribs.
She points her finger at me like a kindergarten teacher. "Stop it or I'll hurt you!" She's just punched me in the ribs but I can't help smiling. I feel myself getting excited. What's wrong with me? "Don't laugh!" she warns me again.
I sit back in my seat and bite down on my lips. There are a million things I want to say right now, all either too sappy or too vulgar. "I'm not laughing." I hold my hands up in surrender. "And I'll stop."
"Who do you think you are? You can't kiss me just because you feel like it and show off with other girls, hoping nice, quiet Caterina will pretend nothing's happened, because I
'll punch you in the face!" She's bursting with Italian passion and it's amazing.
She's right about everything except the bit about kissing her when I feel like it. I'm not giving that up.
"There is no one else, Blondie. Casey saw me in the car while I was waiting for a friend on campus and she got in then, after less than five minutes, she got out. Rachel called because she needed a ride and okay, I'll admit it, I went too far on the phone, but I was just trying to make you jealous."
"I thought Mark was the comedian in the family!", she replies with sarcasm.
"I'm an idiot, okay?! I tried to make you jealous and failed miserably. You treated me like shit this afternoon." My voice goes down an octave.
"You deserved it!" Her voice is lower as she fiddles nervously with her seat belt.
"I did, but don't ever tell me I don't owe you explanations or that we're not together." I hold my breath waiting for her to say something.
"And don't you ever call me a snobby bitch again!" She bites her lip and narrows her eyes in a glare.
Either she didn't understand when I said 'We're together' or she's still pretending nothing's happened. In either case, right now, I don't care.
"Now tell me why your mother was laughing?"
She's always so imperative: Tell me, I want, give me. She's too much like me and we're going to fight a million times over, and I hope each fight ends up with us in bed, exchanging hot kisses, bed sheets twisted around our ankles.
"I told her I took you down to the beach and played you that song." I shrug, ready to enjoy her reaction which, as always, is never the one I was expecting.
"You mean the one on your iPad, that you've no idea how it got there?" she asks sarcastically, her head tilted to one side.
"Yup...and while we're on the subject..." I never finish my sentence. I lean down and brush my nose against hers. "Can I kiss you now?"
She eliminates the distance between us as we lose ourselves in an endless kiss. I don't know how much time passes before I'm able to detach myself from her lips.
My hands are sweating at the thought of walking into Frankie's and seeing all my ex-classmates again.
I know they still talk behind my back, but it's just jealousy. It's not been easy, shaking off the gossip and stories about me that have been going around the small town I grew up in since I was a kid. A violent, drunk for a father, a mother who's eight months pregnant and gets beaten up and thrown downstairs so hard she loses her unborn daughter. The police, the court case, prison. Then Jessica's rape, more violence, this time from me, the judges, the social workers.
I've had to work much harder than them to prove myself, to earn a little respect. It was the same for Mark, but his personality makes him easy to like. It's not quite the same for me.
That's why I worked so hard at school to get the best grades, which got me a full scholarship to UCF. To prove I wasn't like my dad, I was on all the sports teams; basketball, football, baseball, soccer. I needed to show I wasn't weak like him, that no matter what I did with my life, I would be successful.
So, then there were the piano lessons, the guitar lessons. I wanted to get a band together and play the clubs in our small town, and I did. I wanted to be a straight-A student, and I was.
The kids at school always resented me. They figured I was the privileged kid, the kid with the Midas touch, who makes everything look easy. Like hell I was. I had to work my ass off, twice as hard as anyone else, to prove I was just as good as them.
Yet, my biggest worry tonight is walking into Frankie's, my home away from home for four long years, hand in hand with Cat. I can already imagine the bitchy comments from the girls, as they look her up and down, like a pack of hungry hyenas. I hold her hand tight, our fingers entwined. Everyone will be watching but at least they'll know how things stand, right from the start: she's mine and no one lays a finger on her. She's with me and no one comes near, especially Rachel, who thirty minutes ago sent texted me saying she was already there which, as usual, I ignored.
My mom’s car is parked near the entrance and, glancing toward the rear, I notice Kris and Ryan have arrived, too.
Cat looks down at our hands. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
I swear, sometimes I'm afraid she can read my mind. She stops on the sidewalk, yanking my hand so hard that I have to stop, too.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want everyone talking about me. There'll be that girl, Rachel, all your friends from high school and those two blonde bimbos we met at the mall, who said they were going to try it on with you tonight. I didn't understand if they meant one at a time or both of them together."
I roll my eyes and arch my eyebrows. What the hell is she talking about? What bimbos?
"From the look on your face, it seems you wouldn't mind that at all." She pulls her hand away from mine and folds her arms, her mouth forming the sexiest pout I've ever seen.
"What are you talking about?" I smile and take a step closer but she moves out of the way.
"I don't want to walk in there, hand in hand, if you're going to play the fool with other girls all night." She stares up at me, expecting an explanation or perhaps a promise.
"No one's going to try anything with me." Okay, maybe I didn't phrase that so well. "And anyway, we're going to walk in there, hand in hand, so everyone knows we're together. I promise I'll stay by your side all night, I won't let you out of my sight, even for a second, and I won't talk to any other girl, except Jessica and Abby, of course."
She shakes her head and purses her lips. "No."
"No what?" She really is the world's most complicated girl.
"You don't have to stay with me all the time and avoid talking to anyone. But we won't walk in hand in hand, they might get the wrong idea..."
I don’t know what infuriates me the most. The fact that she won't trust me or the fact that she insists on keeping up appearances in front of people she doesn't even know. I mean, who cares what they think! "Blondie..." I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to blow off steam. She looks at me impassively, almost bored, which pisses me off even more. "We're going to walk in there hand in hand because they need to know that, tonight, you're with me. Because, I swear to God, anyone so much as lays one eye on you and there'll be hell to pay!"
She rolls her eyes. "If it's like that, then I'm going home right now."
Argh! She can be so annoying when she wants to be. I'm telling her I want to be with her, that I won't talk to any other girl, that I'll only have eyes for her and it's still not good enough.
I take a long breath and count mentally to calm myself down...one...two...three...forty-five...forty-six...
I stand in front of her, cup her face in my hands and say, my voice low. "Listen. We go in, we don't go in, hand in hand or ten minutes apart. All I want is to be with you."
What I've just said is only a third of what I really think, but I'm learning that when I calm down and leave the choice up to her, she calms down, too. It's not really a choice. We're walking in there together, no doubt about it. I just need her to think it's her idea.
She takes my hand, still unsure. "I'm warning you, Ben..." She points her finger at me and she's so serious I can't do anything but nod. "The first time one of your bimbos even dares to look at me, I'm leaving."
"I promise. And the first asshole who comes near you will burn in hell for eternity!" It's obvious I'm joking, but she's not laughing.
"No, the first time someone goes too far, I'll take your hand and we'll leave, without causing any problems. I don't think it's worth getting the police involved again..."
I kiss her slowly, tasting her, savoring her. Damn! There are butterflies in my stomach. "Okay, Blondie. You look beautiful tonight, you know that?"
She blushes and, knowing I caused that reaction, feels incredible. "Let's go in, before I change my mind."
26
Frankie's is huge. We enter through heavy, double doors, then go down a very narrow corridor which leads into an enormous r
oom with wooden ceiling beams and walls lined with what must be thousands of retro-style tin signs. The bar is at the end of the room to the right and takes up the whole wall while, on the left, there is the stage. From the door to the bar, are lines of wooden tables and benches, set out to create separate spaces, helping to maintain the sense of spaciousness in the huge room.
The lighting is warm, the music is loud, and the screens, all transmitting a game of baseball, are silent. It's full of kids, laughing and drinking beer. A crowd of around fifteen of them are gathered around a pool table to our right, intent on watching the next shot.
Ben's hand tightens around mine, making my fingers tingle. His words fill my heart with a thousand emotions, all different, all exciting, but I don't trust him. I don't trust his temper. One wrong word or if someone makes an inappropriate comment, and we'll end up fighting.
I want to strangle Jessica. Why didn't she just come with us?
Of course, if she had, I wouldn't have kissed Ben in the car and I wouldn't trade that divine kiss for anything in the world.
He lets go of me for a second while he wraps his arm around my waist then takes my hand in his other hand. We're here about ten seconds before someone notices us, or rather, him.
An older man with long gray hair and a beard the same color, comes over and Ben greets him one-handed without detaching himself from me, which is pretty embarrassing.
He and Mark are much more alike than I thought. They crave physical contact. They need to touch, to feel, to hold. I'm more like Johnny in 'Dirty Dancing': This is my space. This is your space. I don’t go into yours, you don’t go into mine.
Don't get me wrong. I'm more than happy to make an exception for Ben, hidden away in the car, making out like two thirteen year olds, but I don't feel so comfortable when he touches me in public and the reason why can be summed up in one word: GUILT! If it weren't for...if things with Leonardo were different, I'd be delighted to cling to him and piss off all those bimbos who've been jealously glaring at me since we set foot in the place. And then there are our friends, dammit!