by Rose, Emery
“Hello. I’m worried about a friend of mine. She’s seventeen and she’s—”
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced out the word. “Stop.”
“Just a moment, please.”
He took the phone off speaker and held his hand over it to muffle the sound of our voices.
“If I do this, you’ll leave him alone.”
Tristan nodded. I had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth, but I couldn’t sit here and let him tell the cops that Shane did something wrong. He didn’t. I wouldn’t let him pay the price. He had too much to lose. If Tristan destroyed Shane’s career because of me I’d never be able to forgive myself.
Tristan got back on the line. “Turns out that my friend is okay. I’m sorry for taking up your time. I know you have more urgent matters to deal with.”
I tuned him out as he wrapped up his conversation and then he cut the call and tossed his cell in the cupholder.
It was all so stupid but in the eyes of the law, what Shane and I had done was considered a crime. He could be arrested for it. Fined. Even put in jail. I tried to think of a different way out, but my brain was all jumbled, the fear of ruining Shane’s career pushing out all my other thoughts.
I didn’t want to be that girl. I didn’t want to be responsible for the downfall of the person I loved. I had the power to stop it. Funny how I chose to look at it as power. As if the power was in my hands.
“What do you want from me?” Everyone knew that the first rule of dealing with bullies is not to negotiate. Yet here I was going into negotiations.
“You can start by giving me a blowjob.”
I didn’t even blink, resigned to my fate but still, I had a tiny sliver of hope that it would turn out differently. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.”
Because I can. “Why me? Why did you choose me?” I was searching for a clue. What did guys see when they looked at me? Guys who weren’t Shane. Guys who looked at me as a piece of ass that could easily be discarded when they’d gotten what they wanted. Maybe Tristan could enlighten me. Might as well get something out of this for myself, right?
The girl sitting in this BMW was the old Remy. The hood rat. The scrapper. Damaged goods. The Remy who Shane loved wasn’t sitting in this car. It helped to separate the two.
“You have a lot of questions tonight, little lamb.”
“I want answers before the big bad wolf eats me.”
He laughed. It was boyish. And for a minute he was just a boy, and I was just a girl and we weren’t locked in some crazy negotiation. Maybe in another lifetime we could have been friends. If I had grown up with them, privileged, above the law, secure in my place in the world, it could have been different. But I was me and he held all the power in his hands. He would use it to destroy me. Because that was what he did. If he couldn’t control something, he destroyed it.
“I chose you because you look like you should be starring in a porn film. Your lips are fuckable. Tits could be a little bigger, but I can overlook that. Your ass makes up for it. Your attitude though… that’s what clinched the deal.”
“What’s my attitude?”
“You give zero fucks.” He slid his seat back as far as it would go, our little chat over. “Now. Where were we? Oh right. You were about to give me a blowjob.” He unzipped his jeans and leaned back in his seat. “Get to work, dirty girl.”
17
Remy
It had been three weeks and five days since I’d given Tristan Hart a blowjob. Three weeks and five days since Shane left for Australia. He was coming back late tonight. Could I just pretend that it had never happened? I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and tried not to flinch.
Get to work, dirty girl.
Shane never has to know.
I’d shove it into that place where bad memories lived.
“Remy,” Dylan yelled, banging on the door. “If you want a ride, you’ve got two seconds. I’m out of here.”
I walked out of the bathroom and he was halfway out the door already.
The drive to school was silent because Dylan barely spoke to me anymore. I barely saw him these days. He was out every night doing God knows what and since most of his classes were at the community college, he rarely set foot inside the high school these days.
I slammed out of the pick-up truck he’d bought with money he got from some unknown source and darted around Tristan and his jock friends standing by the door.
I’d been avoiding him since that night I had his dick in my mouth and planned on doing it for the foreseeable future.
Six more weeks. Only six more weeks and I was out of here.
I repeated the words like a mantra as I weaved through the students in the hallway and stopped in front of my locker.
I took out the books I needed for this morning’s classes and replaced them with the ones in my backpack.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice low in my ear. “See you at seven.”
“For what?” I hissed. “You got what you wanted.”
Tristan laughed. “Not yet. But tonight I will.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means… I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
I shook my head, trying to swallow down the fear. “No. We’re done. That wasn’t the deal.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done.” He held up his phone in front of my face. A photo of Shane in a HartCore jersey stared back at me. His white smile was wide, his hazel eyes looked green, and his hair was messy, tousled perfection. The caption under the photo said: Wilder is back in top form and secured the first win at Bells Beach.
Tristan smirked as he pocketed his phone, knowing he had me right where he wanted me.
* * *
Tristan tied a knot in the condom. So carefully. So precisely. My gaze followed him across my bedroom floor and out the doorway. Seconds later, I heard the bathroom door close and the toilet flush. Then the shower running. He brought his own shower gel in his gym bag, so he could wash off all traces of the dirty girl on the mattress. Tonight, I had removed myself from my body. Like I was watching it from a distance, and it wasn’t really me. But now that it was over, I knew it hadn’t been a dream. It had been real.
The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils. The soreness between my legs told me he’d been brutal in his assault of my body. Tristan had pounded into me over and over, chasing his own release with no regard for me.
He didn’t care that it hurt. He didn’t care about me at all.
I got dressed in the same tank top and ripped jeans I’d been wearing earlier. Then I lit a cigarette and sat with my back against the wall, staring out the window at the sunset. The sky was streaked pink and orange, a beautiful evening. A beautiful sunset. I blew the smoke out the window, poisoning the sweet spring air with toxic chemicals.
Funny how some things made you feel like crying. Like missing Shane. Or when Dylan occasionally said things that were so sweet a lump formed in my throat and my eyes stung with tears. Or when Shane told me he’d wait for me because I was worth it. He thought I was special. He told me he loved me. I could count on one hand the things in my life that have made me cry. And most of my tears have been shed for the people I love. My mom, Dylan, Shane.
Tristan Hart did not deserve my tears, so I gritted my teeth and dug my nails into the palms of my hands and I refused to let the tears fall. If I broke down, he would revel in it. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
I took another drag of my cigarette, feeling the nicotine course through my bloodstream. It made me lightheaded. I always said I’d never smoke cigarettes. I said I’d never do a lot of things.
I was a liar.
Over the past few weeks, I had tried to tell myself I wasn’t that girl. I wasn’t the girl who would allow a boy to bully and blackmail her in return for a blowjob. For sex.
I was not that girl.
Except that I was that girl.
Tristan returned to my bedroom, freshly
showered, and plucked his jeans off the floor. He took his time getting dressed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat on the edge to put on his designer high tops. What did it matter if he had screwed me once or a thousand times? I was damaged goods.
My cell beeped with a message. It was sitting on the crate that acted as my bedside table. I didn’t turn my head to look. I knew who it was. Shane was home. He’d texted a few times already, before Tristan arrived and I’d ignored his messages. What could I say? Tristan Hart is coming over to screw my brains out?
“You got what you wanted. Now leave,” I told Tristan. I took another drag of my cigarette and kept staring out the window, at the palm trees and the backs of the terracotta-roofed houses as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
He laughed, but not in a boyish way. He laughed like a marauder who had raped, pillaged and plundered, and was about to burn the whole village to the ground. I should have known he wouldn’t leave me in peace. “I wanted to see how far you would go, little lamb. I wasn’t sure you’d fall for it.” He scoffed. “You didn’t actually believe that I would report Shane Wilder to the cops, did you? I don’t give a shit if he screws the entire JV cheering squad.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would block out his words. That he would just shut up already. But of course, he didn’t. He wanted to make sure there was no reasonable doubt left in my mind. Tristan loved nothing better than to watch me burn. He lit the match and threw it on the kerosene. I tossed my cigarette out the window. I’d become so careless.
“In case I need to spell it out for you, you’ve been played. Screwed. Fucked over. It’s been fun, little lamb. Have a good life. Oh. Wait.” He snapped his fingers. “You have no future beyond this shitty apartment.”
He threw a few twenties on the mattress, the ultimate insult, a nod to the fact that he had treated me like a prostitute. I hurled my Converse at his head as he walked out of my room. It hit him squarely in the back. As he retreated down the hallway, I heard him laughing. Seconds later, the front door closed behind him and I let his words sink in, and the tears fall.
Everything I had done had been for nothing. I’d been played.
Why would someone go to so much trouble to ruin another person’s life? You would think by now that a girl like me would stop questioning the horrible, ugly, crazy things people did.
After all, I was my mother’s daughter. And I knew what I needed to do—set Shane free.
18
Shane
My season was off to a good start. I had some of my best heats in Australia. This was going to be my year. I could feel it in my gut. I was at the top of my game. My star was rising. Everything was right with the world, my dreams so close I could reach out and touch them.
As I showered, washing off the stale scent of travel, my thoughts drifted to Remy. On the eighteen-hour flight, I’d had plenty of time to think about our future. When she graduated, she could move in with me. We’d travel together, live together, spend our nights together. I had a few contacts I could put her in touch with. We had talked about her becoming a surfing photographer and being on tour with me would be the perfect opportunity for that, and for making surfing videos.
I toweled off and dressed in a T-shirt and shorts then chugged a bottle of water. Jet lag was a bitch and my body was still operating on a different time zone. I needed fresh air, exercise, and Remy. Not necessarily in that order. I shoved my feet into Vans and strode to my front door just as a knock sounded on it.
I swung the door open and my lips curved into a smile. “Hey Firefly. I’ve missed you.”
Her smile was forced and didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey Shane. How was your flight?”
“It was fine.” I studied her face for a moment. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Something was wrong. Not only did she look less than thrilled to see me, her arms were crossed over her chest, warding me off, her shoulders rigid. “What’s wrong, Remy?”
She gnawed on her lower lip, her eyes darting around, looking everywhere but at me. “We need to talk, Shane.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. This was not how I pictured our happy reunion. My stomach sank.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
The first thought that entered my head was that she was pregnant. I’d always been careful, but accidents happened. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best timing, but I didn’t hate the idea either. We’d make it work. If she was scared, I’d let her know I’d be there for her every step of the way.
“Let’s take a walk.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Um… can I just come in? For a minute?”
I held the door open for her and she walked past me.
“There’s no easy way to say this.” She wrung her hands and paced the kitchen, her teeth gnawing on that poor lip.
I pulled out a stool for her. “How about if you sit? You’re making me nervous.”
She perched on the edge of her seat and I sat across from her, taking her hands in mine. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, Remy.” I squeezed her hands, encouraging her to say whatever was on her mind.
She snatched her hands away and crossed her arms over her chest again. Not gonna lie, that hurt. She was pushing me away. Her body language screamed that she didn’t want to be touched.
“I slept with someone while you were away.”
At first, the words didn’t register. I stared at her, unblinking, my breathing shallow as the words hit me and the meaning started to sink in.
“The fuck did you just say? Because it sounded like you said you slept with someone who wasn’t me.”
She nodded and swallowed, her throat bobbing. “I did say that. It just happened.” She shrugged like it had been out of her control.
“How does something like that just happen? Who is he?”
Remy shook her head and gripped the arms of the chair. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. Who the fuck is it?”
“Shane, that’s not the point. He was just some guy.”
Some guy. None of this made sense. My brain refused to accept it. “Were you drunk? Did he force himself on you?” There had to be a good reason. She would never do this to me. Never. I held on to my anger, my hands curled into fists, ready to rip the guy limb from limb for hurting her.
“No. It was my choice. I wasn’t drunk. He didn’t force me.”
I searched her face for clues that she was lying. Her face was neutral. Nothing gave her away.
“I’m sorry, Shane.”
Sorry did not fucking cut it. I speared my hands through my hair and held the back of my head, taking deep breaths so I didn’t lose my shit and punch the wall behind her head.
“Why?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “Why would you do that?”
“Let’s be real, Shane. This… us… it was never going to work. What was I supposed to do… tag along with you wherever you went? How long before you got tired of me? You have surfing, you have your career, and what would I have? I need to get a life of my own.”
I laughed bitterly. Unbelievable. “So, your answer to getting a life of your own was to fuck someone else?”
She flinched at my word choice and tone of voice. Right now, I didn’t fucking care. “I loved you. I loved you, Remy. I would have moved heaven and earth to make you happy. I would have done anything for you.”
While I’d been planning our future, she’d been fucking some other guy. I couldn’t even look at her face.
“Why would you do this, Remy? Were you trying to prove that you’re just like your mother?”
“I am just like her. And it wouldn’t have taken you long to figure that out. I ruin everything that’s good. You should have known better than to fall in love with a girl like me.”
“Go. Leave.” My jaw clenched.
“Goodbye, Shane.” Those were her final words before the door closed behind her.
Remy said goodbye.
After two years of fighting my feelings for h
er, of finally admitting I couldn’t, and letting myself fall in love with her, it had only taken her two seconds to break my heart.
I slept with someone while you were away.
19
Remy
The pounding on my bedroom door wouldn’t stop. Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
“Fucking let me in or I’m going to rip this door off the hinges,” Dylan yelled.
I stayed where I was, lying on my mattress, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. My body was spent. I was too hollowed out and empty to care. Let him yell and threaten me all he wanted. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Wood splintered, and the door flew open, slamming against the wall. Dylan’s chest was heaving as he stalked across the room. I gaped and scooted back against the wall. The asshole had kicked my door in. “Get out of here!”
His eyes narrowed on me, taking in my red, swollen eyes and unwashed hair, the holey T-shirt and cotton boxers I’d been wearing for three days. Before I could stop him, he lifted me off the mattress and tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I pounded his back with my fists. Undeterred, he carried me through the doorway, down the hall, and into the bathroom, keeping a vise-like grip on my legs.
“What the hell are you doing? Put me down.”
I pummeled him with my fists and clawed at his back, my shrieks bouncing off the tiled walls. He didn’t care. My brother was Iron Man. Holding me in place with one arm, he turned on the shower and held his hand under the water until he was happy with the temperature. Clothes and all, he unceremoniously dumped me in the bathtub.
The shower curtain snapped shut and he left me sitting there with the water pouring down on my head. All the fight drained from my body, and I just sat there with my eyes closed, letting the water wash over me. Cleanse me. Take away my sins.