Tough Guy: PROVIDENCE PREP HIGH SCHOOL BOOK 2

by Allen, Jacob

  So, for now, I turned my back to where Kevin was and focused on someone who actually wanted me there.

  “So, shall we go and say hello to everyone?” I said.

  “Only if hello includes the nerds.”

  Samantha’s people. The one she feels most comfortable with. And the nicest people on campus.

  “Well, hello to everyone doesn’t just mean the cool kids,” I said with a laugh. “So yeah, let’s go.”

  I couldn’t attend a party and not say hi to everyone.

  I just, apparently, could attend a party and say hi to everyone except to the one person who either hid from me or shoved my hello back down my throat.

  2

  Kevin

  Seeing Jackie White enter a party was something that commanded attention, no matter how much one tried to ignore her.

  She wasn’t necessarily the girl with the biggest rack, the nicest ass, or the whitest smile on campus. She wasn’t the one that oozed sexuality like the cheerleaders, had more brain cells than the rest of the class put together like Samantha, or the daughter of Russians like Emily. But she was certainly the most unique.

  First of all, as far as I could tell, she was the only student of mixed heritage on campus, and that alone immediately drew eyes to her half-tanned, half-brown skin. We had African American students on campus, but she was the sole mixed gal.

  Second, she always dressed in a way that drew attention without being snobbish or ridiculous. Maybe it was because of her mixed heritage, or maybe it was because her hippy parents knew how to dress her for the style, but her long dresses always drew attention. Floral-patterned, animal-printed, rainbow-colored, tie-dye—they all sounded so crude and so over-the-top, but with Jackie, they never were, and I knew it wasn’t just me who thought that.

  Third, she had a sweetness to her that was, at times, nauseating. If you made eye contact with Jackie, she was coming to talk to you in that sweet Southern accent and ask how your day was going.

  It made me fucking sick to my stomach.

  There was a fourth thing about Jackie that commanded attention, though I suspected this was only particular to me. She reminded me so much of myself and she reminded me of many things that I could never have. Both of those factors, because of what they actually meant on a granular level, drove me fucking crazy.

  Jackie hit me on every level. Superficial? In addition to everything above, she also had a great rack and a great ass; they just were usually hidden under her dresses. It took the rare sighting of her by the pool or in gym clothes to realize that the girl had features. Emotional? Jackie always seemed to see right through me. On the deepest level?

  I wasn’t fucking getting into that.

  I preferred to see Jackie as a girl who had no spine and no will. She never listened to me when I asked her to leave me the fuck alone. It had started from the day she noticed me in eighth grade, and it had continued ever since. I tried to be nice at first - I thought I did, at least, though some people were pussies and couldn’t handle my smartass attitude—but as time went by, I discovered I just had to be meaner and meander to get the point across. Some days, I didn’t have to be as mean; I could just give her a cold glare and she’d shut up.

  Other days, like I suspected this would be, I was going to have to threaten her or ward her off.

  At least it was kind of cool to have someone who would just follow me and do whatever I said if I wanted. If I wanted Jackie to go and fetch me some hot chicken somewhere, she’d do so in a heartbeat. I didn’t like to exert this control over her, because it just ended up pissing me off that someone could be so spineless and so easily controlled, but if I wanted it, I could have it.

  I needed it because I sure wasn’t getting it anywhere else.

  Given how today had gone with my father and with the start of the party, I needed an excuse to get away from my “bouncing” duties. As soon as she locked eyes with me and she smiled, I turned and went upstairs as quickly as I could. I didn’t need her purple dress to hold my gaze as long as I did.

  “Hey! Adam! Hey!”

  I didn’t even have anything to talk to him about as I darted up the stairs. I just knew that if I held his attention for a few moments, Jackie would need to go elsewhere, and I could go back to watching the balcony entrance before I settled in on a target for the night.

  “What, puppy?” I said.

  “Hey now,” Emily said, nudging me by the side.

  I hated when Adam called me that. I hated more that it was mostly true. Of all the Broad Street Boys, I was the poorest and had the most to lose in this group. I was the one who didn’t really belong, and Adam didn’t seem to mind reminding me of that on a regular basis.

  At least Emily was here to calm him down. I liked her, even if I thought she could have done much better than Adam. Nick, for example, should have put in more of an effort to keep her. That would have made her happier and promised a more stable future.

  Assuming, that was, that Nick broke out of his recent little funk since football season ended with a loss in the state semifinals.

  “Did you know Jackie is here?”

  I didn’t even have anything else to say. I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind—which was fucking stupid, given that Adam and Ryan already mocked me for whatever “relationship” I had with that girl.

  “Umm, yeah, she’s like, Emily’s best friend.”

  Emily leaned forward to whisper something into Adam’s ear, but I didn’t hear it and I didn’t really care. I just needed to find a way to save myself right now, because this was a very poor start to how I wanted the rest of the night to go. The party had only been an hour, and already, Adam was both pissing me off and beating me down, causing me to be pissed off at myself.

  “I know, but I don’t get why she won’t leave me alone,” I said, a blatantly exaggerated statement at best. “I keep telling her I’m not interested, but…”

  “Kevin,” Adam said in a very condescending tone. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Maybe you can do what I did.”

  “Huh?”

  What the hell did that mean? Get Jackie like he got Emily?

  “Rope her in with dramatic public displays.”

  “Hey!” Emily shouted.

  I fought not to roll my eyes. I knew Adam was just putting me down, reminding me of my status in the group. The sarcasm in his voice was evident by the fact it wasn’t forced; he didn’t have to force the sarcasm for it to be as biting as it was. That was the thing about a guy like Adam—once a certain threshold of asshole was set, everything else more or less naturally fell into place. That Emily had come into his life might have affected how he was with other people, but it didn’t affect how he was with the Broad Street Boys.

  But it wasn’t worth a fight. Not at a party like this.

  “OK, I’ll take that idea under consideration,” I said.

  This was as much as I was willing to let go before I would snap back. I turned back around and hurried down the stairs, now trying to avoid Adam like I’d hoped to avoid Jackie.

  “I was kidding!”

  I didn’t let him see the middle finger I gave him.

  Truthfully, Adam was a good guy. When he wasn’t mocking me for being poor or for feeling insecure about my place in the group, he took care of me, Nick, and his brother, and he went a long way to making sure our shit was paid for. But, fucking hell, such moments were rare.

  I would have liked to have stood up to him. But if I wanted to remain in the Broad Street Boys, at least until I started college, I needed to stay in his good graces.

  I got back to my position on the bannister of the stairs, noticing that I didn’t see Jackie anywhere. Thank heavens, although I couldn’t lie, Jackie would have been much better to deal with than Adam. At least Jackie groveled before me, instead of me groveling before her.

  About half an hour passed before I got bored. At this point, I would have normally gone upstairs, watched the party with the boys and our private bartender, and
then waited until near the end of the night to call for a girl. I had to wait till the end because, if not, one of the Collins would steal my choice of lady. Unfortunately, it had never yet happened where a girl I and the Collins had wanted chose me over them.

  But I was still pissed at Adam. So I instead waded my way through the crowd, ignoring the guys who wanted to get upstairs and the girls trying to get my attention. None of them interested me, not even the so-called “hot” ones. I didn’t have an interest in something that lasted less than twenty minutes.

  I got to the bar, manned by some Vanderbilt student that Adam knew, and ordered myself a rum and coke. I actually didn’t drink much at these parties, but it had nothing to do with avoiding underage drinking. It had everything to do with…

  Well, that wasn’t something I wanted to give much thought to.

  “Got a lot of nice looking girls here tonight,” the bartender, whose name tag read Stan, said.

  “Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “A lot of nice looking but ugly sounding girls.”

  Stan gave a boisterous laugh as I sipped on my drink silently.

  “You should see,” I said. “The next time some song comes on, see how many times you hear the phrase ‘I love this song!’ like it’s their favorite song in the world, only for them to repeat it one song later.”

  “Oh, it’s even worse at Vandy parties,” he said. “At least here, the space is massive so it’s not as loud.”

  “Right,” I said, knowing I was never going to get to Vanderbilt—that shit was way too expensive. “But it’s also so—”

  “Hey!”

  I literally jumped in the air and swung my fists back. I barely avoided hitting Jackie, who had the foresight to stagger back into a group of people, who caught her.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” I said, grabbing at my chest as my heartbeat slowed down. “What the hell are you doing?!?”

  “I… I just wanted to say hi and see how you are.”

  “Did you have to fucking surprise me like that?!?”

  I was boiling with rage. I knew it was an overreaction. I knew that Jackie didn’t mean any harm by it. I knew that she had just meant to come and talk to me, and as much as I didn’t want to see her, that wasn’t a crime.

  But fucking hell!

  “Never come up from behind on me like that,” I said, doing my best to steel my voice. Jackie didn’t deserve to get hit, as I would never hit any woman, but she deserved just about everything else. “You saw what happened? That was not an abnormal reaction. It’s instinctive. Do you understand?”

  Jackie nodded. That wasn’t fucking good enough for me.

  “I need to hear you say it,” I said.

  “I’m sorry!” she said. “I didn’t know, I just, I thought I was being friendly, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  Jackie’s apology was obvious and real. But that didn’t mean I didn’t see an opportunity to send a message. A message to leave me the fuck alone.

  “If you’re so sorry, then why didn’t you think before you grabbed me from behind, hmm?” I said, raising my right eyebrow. “Maybe if you used some of those smarts you so seem to have, you’d know that approaching someone from behind in a party like this is a bad idea.”

  “I just…”

  “You just what?” I said, laughing for effect. “You just thought I’d somehow be different? You just thought that because you annoy me and never leave me the fuck alone that it would be OK? You just thought, ‘oh, it’s Kevin, I’ll do whatever I want?’ Is that what you just, Jackie?”

  Jackie bit her lip as she tried to stand her ground, but she nevertheless ended up stepping backwards. I was getting closer to making her break, getting closer to never having to deal with her for the rest of my high school time.

  Never having someone who was actually sweet, and kind check in on me.

  I didn’t need that. I didn’t want that. I didn’t deserve that.

  “Let me tell you something right now—”

  “Kevin!”

  Adam’s voice rang from the top of the stairs. When he wanted to, Adam had a way of booming over even the loudest of speakers and music. It pissed me off to be called out so publicly, but at this point, there was nothing I could do.

  It did, however, save Jackie’s sorry ass.

  “I guess you got lucky,” I said with a snicker. “Don’t push your luck, Jack.”

  I loved calling her Jack. She hated that nickname, and it was by far the easiest—perhaps the only—way to get under her skin.

  “And definitely don’t ever grab me from behind like you did.”

  With that, I left, glaring at a few people who had dared to stop and look at us. What can I say, I took my role as asshole bouncer seriously. I knew I was probably the least popular Broad Street Boy, but that was fine. I didn’t even live on this street, so it wasn’t like I tied myself to that identity.

  I just tied myself to being a part of the group.

  “What is it?” I asked Adam as I got to the stairs.

  “Some assholes keep trying to come up,” he said. “Do your thing, would you?”

  I sighed.

  “As always,” I said with fake bravado.

  Who’s really the lucky one, anyways? Me, being Adam’s bitch?

  Or Jackie, for being able to have the spirit to take all my shit and still be nice?

  Or is it more just we’re both spineless pussies who beg at the altar of someone else’s life?

  * * *

  The party ended around 2:30 a.m., at which point Adam started kicking people out, undoubtedly so he could have sex with Emily. Ryan had disappeared long ago with two girls from my class—despite being younger, he just had a shameless way with the ladies that matched his looks—and Nick had gone home, though he’d done so alone. Apparently, the loss was still eating at him.

  That was strange, but I didn’t really care. I was just happy to get the hell out.

  It was rare, but it had happened before where, come the end of the party, all the hot girls were taken or had just left. I could have had sex any night because of my affiliation with the group, but I needed it to be with people that I at least had some respect for, be it in looks or in personality. The remaining girls tonight did not fulfill that.

  So, instead of retreating to one of the Collins’ guest rooms for half an hour to get my dick wet, I instead strolled out of the house, only about two drinks in, and headed for my car, a beat-up, 20th century Honda Civic. The damn thing was on the verge of breaking down at any moment, and suffice to say, the very fact that it was over two decades older than Adam’s car said everything one needed to know about the difference in our incomes.

  I always parked far away from Adam’s driveway, choosing a home whose owners were almost never around. If memory served me right, the guy who owned the house had played for the Tennessee Titans before getting traded to one of the California NFL teams. I didn’t remember the details, and I didn’t much care. Sports were more fun for me as something to watch with friends than something I nerded out over.

  In any case, I hopped in my car, revved the engine—three times before it finally did wake up—and pulled out of the neighborhood, fully aware that more than one person would probably wake up to the high-pitched wheezing of my Civic as I left. An electric car, a quiet car, and a healthy car, mine most certainly was not.

  Though I was happy to leave the party, especially after the way everything had gone down, I couldn’t exactly say I was happy to be heading home. If I got lucky, nothing would happen. If I got unlucky…

  As soon as I got out of the neighborhood and onto the highway, I started blaring Metallica at the highest volume on the speakers. The damn things were already blown anyways, so a “Max Volume” on my 1997 Honda Civic was only about a 12 out of 40 in Adam’s Corvette. Not that it mattered—what mattered was that I listened to rock and music that stood the test of time, not the modern shit that Adam and Nick liked to listen to.

  Just because I was poor didn’t mean t
hat I didn’t have better taste in music than those assholes.

  “Enter Sandman” came on, and I began to scream the lyrics.

  “Sleep with one eye open! Grip your pillow tight!”

  And then I started banging my head so hard that I had to stop, making myself a little dizzy. No one else was on the road, so that didn’t matter, but a cop wondering about an eighteen year old who wasn’t staying perfectly straight on the road at three in the morning was probably not a cop that was just going to ignore what I had done.

  It took me so fucking long to get home, and I hated that. It meant that I had more time to think about what might happen when I walked in.

  I lowered the volume to just barely audible as I made the second-to-last turn into my neighborhood. I could never be too careful when it came to returning to this shithole. I dimmed my headlights when I made the last turn, having already known this part of the drive by heart. I slowed the car down to just barely over fifteen miles per hour, careful to give myself enough reaction time to dodge any deer that may have galloped by.

  And then, with a gulp, I pulled into my father’s driveway, cringing as my tires went over the pebbles and rocks underneath.

  As soon as I had enough over to prevent my rear from getting side-swiped by oncoming traffic, I parked my car, turned it off, and yanked on the emergency brake. I took a deep breath, opened the door slowly, and tiptoed my way to the front.

  The first thing I did was I pressed my head against the door. If my father was still awake, mumbling to himself or yelling at himself—there was never anything in between after midnight—then that was as good a cue as any to return to my car and take a power nap. I heard nothing.

  I slid open the door. There were no lights on right now, but that didn’t mean anything.

  I made my way quietly down the hall, careful to move my feet slowly in case I hit any new glass bottles on the ground. I bumped into one, but I caught myself quick enough that the “clink” was minimal. I got to my bedroom door, opened it…