Kamiko arched an eyebrow, “Flavors?”
Christos erupted with laughter.
Kamiko chuckled and shook her head, “You have finally lived up to your blondness, Sam. All that time you spent at the beach with Mads has broiled your brain. You might want to think twice before you quit your job at Grab-n-Dash.”
I think that was the first time Kamiko had smiled at me in weeks. “Does that mean you accept my apology?” I asked hopefully.
“If you insist…” she sighed.
“I insist.” I reached out to give her a big hug.
“…and give me five dollars,” she finished, her palm held out expectantly. Her brows knit into a menacing frown and one of her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“What?” I scoffed. “I’m so not paying for your forgiveness!”
“Why not? It goes for ten times that on the open market. I declare a guilt glare!” She lunged her face toward me threateningly.
I took a step away from her. “Get your guilt glare away from me! It’s heinous! Where’d you learn how to make that face anyway?” I circled behind Christos.
Kamiko followed. “From my mom. She’s a master at it. It always worked for her. I think she did it so I had to give back all of my allowance.”
Confused, I paused my circumnavigation around Christos. “Wait, are you saying whenever you did something bad at home, your mom made you pay her?”
“Yeah,” Kamiko said uncertainly, looking between me and Christos, “isn’t that what your parents did?”
“Uhh…” I stammered.
Christos shrugged.
“Fine,” Kamiko said dismissively, “my mom is weird and my allowance was nothing more than a cruel ruse designed to humiliate. But you still have to pay up.” She jammed her expectant palm at me again and tightened the screws on her super powered guilt glare. It was disturbingly effective. She followed me around Christos.
I circled cautiously backward.
Kamiko was in hot pursuit. “Now it’s ten dollars. You feel bad because my mother robbed me of my rightful childhood income. Think of all the dishes and vacuuming I did. For free.”
“Guilt, guilt, guilt,” Christos chanted.
“Not helping,” I singsonged.
“Is Kamiko guilting you?” Romeo asked, suddenly standing behind me.
We all turned to look at him. He looked like he’d just come back from being out all night. He wore his fanciest black steampunk greatcoat. It had at least two hundred studs and buttons. Buckled black boots poked out from the bottom of the coat. His trademarked monocle was squinched into place.
“She won’t quit until she gets paid,” Romeo said, nodding toward Kamiko. “You’ll have nightmares about that face of hers until you pay up. She’s taken me for at least two grand since the start of high school.”
Kamiko smiled smugly. “He’s right.” She was still creeping toward me.
I couldn’t look at her guilt glare any longer. I dug a ten spot out of my purse and slapped it on her palm. “Make it go away!”
Kamiko’s horrid expression relaxed into a pleasant grin. “Thank you, Sam. You’re so kind.”
“You can’t be mad at me anymore,” I insisted.
Romeo snickered.
“What?” I said.
“Kamiko’s been playing you for over a week,” Romeo said. “I talked her down from her Sam hating ledge over fish tacos last Tuesday. I convinced her that boy Brandumb was bing bong in the ding dong if he couldn’t see how hot she is.”
I leveled an accusatory look at smiling, innocent Kamiko. She was no saint. She was the devil. It was time to flip the guilt trip. I turned up my own guilt glare to full power.
“What?” she said defensively. “I’ve been busy working on new paintings for Brandumb’s show. I didn’t have time to tell you.”
It was my turn to frown. “Not good enough.”
“My mom robbed me of my childhood earnings?” she said uncertainly. “Making me nothing more than an indentured servant?”
I shook my head and intensified my frown.
Kamiko screwed her face back into a glare and wiggled her wrinkled nose at me. “You can’t guilt glare me! I studied with the master!”
I grabbed for the ten dollar bill in her hand and growled, “Gimme my money back, con artist!” She danced away and jammed the money into her book bag.
“Fine. Keep it.” I rolled my eyes. “So, Romeo, what are you doing out so late?”
“Me?!” Romeo blurted. “What the hell are you guys doing out so late? Wait! I know! You missed me! You couldn’t get enough Romeo into your day, so you waited until you could bask in more of my awesome sauce!”
I grimaced at Romeo. “Why does you saying that make me want to take a bleach bath?”
Romeo wrapped his arms around me and jumped up and down aggressively. “Come on, Sam, you know you want my awesome sauce all over you!” He tried to lick my face.
Still caught in his grasp, I dodged my head from side to side. “Stop! Help!”
“If I keep jumping,” Romeo said suggestively, “maybe some awesome sauce will pop out the top of your head!”
Kamiko grimaced. “Seriously Romeo? I think I can taste vomit sauce in my mouth.”
“Okay,” Romeo said, ceasing his jumping. “Nobody likes to swallow vomit sauce.” He paused thoughtfully, hands on his hips. “On second thought, I just met this guy tonight who said he—”
“Hush!” I snapped, “We don’t want to know!”
“Yeah, Romeo,” Kamiko pleaded. “We’ve heard enough.”
“Actually,” Christos said, “I’m kinda curious where you met the vomit sauce guy.”
“Hillcrest,” Romeo said.
“That explains it,” Christos nodded thoughtfully.
“What’s in Hillcrest?” I asked.
Romeo rolled his eyes. “The gays, dearest.”
Christos chuckled. “True that.”
“What were you doing in Hillcrest?” I asked.
Romeo and Christos exchanged a look of utter disbelief.
“Duh,” Romeo scoffed.
“What?” I said defensively. “Am I supposed to believe you can drive to wherever Hillcrest is and random gay men are walking around the streets trolling for vomit sex?”
“Yes!” Romeo and Christos blurted in unison.
Okay, I admit it. I still had a few things left to learn in life.
===
The four of us stood outside Paiute Hall for awhile, continuing to chat and joke with each other. Christos had his arm draped casually around my waist most of the time. I don’t think I’d ever hung out with friends in the middle of the night like this before, and definitely not with a super hot boyfriend for me to lean against. I felt like the star of my very own college romcom.
It must have been after one in the morning, yet it seemed so normal, which was awesome. If I had been out this late in high school, my parents probably would’ve tried to send me to juvie for criminal loitering and felony curfew breaking. Screw them. I was nineteen. I could stay out as late as I wanted. I was having so much fun with my friends, I’d almost forgotten that my parents were doing everything in their powers to interfere with this awesome life I was building for myself.
“What’s up with the coat, Romeo?” Kamiko joked. “Were you on set for the filming of The Matrix Rebloated?”
Romeo smiled at her. “Hilarious, darling. I love you too. But I promise you it’s the bulky coat. Underneath, I’m as svelte and sexy as ever.”
“You should totally get a mirrored monocle to complete the look,” I said.
Romeo ran his splayed fingers sensually down his chest and flicked his tongue at Kamiko.
“Ew! Frog tongue!” she squeaked.
Five brawny guys turned the corner of Paiute Hall and emerged from the shadows while Romeo continued to flick his tongue scandalously. Three of the guys wore T-shirts that said ‘SDU Rugby’.
One guy said, “Dude, did you see the way that guy turned bitch when I threw
my beer in his face and told him to shut the fuck up?”
“Totally!” his buddy replied. “He was ready to piss his pants!”
“Fucking pussy!” another chimed in.
The five of them laughed uproariously.
Great. Here came Team Testosterone.
As the group passed us, one of the guys, who had a crew cut, took one look at Romeo and coughed out the word, “Faggot!” while covering his mouth.
Romeo batted his eyelashes at Crew Cut and said, “Mmm, aren’t you mantastic.”
Another guy in the group said to Crew Cut, “I think that guy has the hots for you.”
Crew Cut scowled at his friend then flipped Romeo off.
Romeo responded by flicking his tongue suggestively at Crew Cut.
“Don’t, Romeo,” Kamiko hissed.
Crew Cut came to a stop in front of Romeo and said, “You want a piece of me, fag?”
“Depends on which piece,” Romeo smiled, hands on hips. “Do I get to choose?”
The four other guys came to a stop beside Crew Cut. The five of them surrounded Romeo.
“Mmm. Gang bang. I like,” Romeo smiled confidently. “Who goes first? Or do you guys want to take me all at once? I’ve got enough orifices and hands to go around.”
“Stop, Romeo!” Kamiko pleaded while pulling on Romeo’s coat.
“Who are you?” Crew Cut asked, “His fag hag?”
“Are you blind?” Romeo asked, offended. “She’s no hag.”
The guy with a lumberjack beard standing on the right said, “Fag’s right. This asian chick is pretty hot. You guys can have the fag while I chat up his friend.”
“Easy boys,” Christos said, stepping forward.
Crew Cut glared at Christos. “Who the fuck are you? This guy’s fag boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Christos said. “You gotta problem with my boyfriend, you gotta problem with me.”
Romeo clearly liked the sound of that. He smiled up at Christos.
The rugby guys started sizing up Christos.
Oh no. What was Christos doing? I mean, I didn’t want Romeo to get hurt, and Christos was awesome for standing up for Romeo and Kamiko like this, but if Christos was already going to court for fighting, surely more fighting was not a good idea? I had to put a stop to this.
I stepped toward the mass of men, putting myself between Christos and the rugby guys. The unmistakable aroma of alcohol and asshole immediately assaulted my nostrils. I held up my phone and snapped a photo. “Now that I’ve got a picture of you guys, I’m calling campus security. I’ve got them on speed dial. You guys should leave before they get here.” My phone was already dialing.
Crew Cut snatched my phone out of my hand and hurled it into the darkness like a champion discus thrower. I was truly astonished at how far it flew. I mean, it sailed over the dining hall next to the dorms like it had wings and literally disappeared into the night sky. I didn’t even hear it land, it went so far.
“Fuck your phone,” Crew Cut said.
I backed up a step and glanced at Christos from the corner of my eye.
“Bad idea, buddy,” Christos said to Crew Cut. “Now you owe her a phone.”
“It’s okay,” I said nervously. “I don’t mind. I needed a new one anyway. We should go.” I tugged on Christos’ arm.
Romeo and Kamiko were cringing together, slowly stepping backward.
“Where you going, babe?” Lumberjack asked Kamiko. “I was just getting to know you.”
“No, this is bullshit,” Christos said, his eyes locked on Crew Cut. “This guy owes you a new phone.”
“It’s okay,” I insisted. “My contract is up and I’m sure I can get a new one for free.” I didn’t mention I needed the old phone if I wanted to exchange it for a new one. Oh well, it didn’t matter. Getting us out of here unharmed was more important. I’d buy a prepaid phone if I had to. “Let’s go, Christos.”
Another rugby guy took a step toward Christos and said, “Better do what this silly little bitch tells you, if you know what’s good for you.”
===
CHRISTOS
Five on one was never good odds, even for me. Especially not when Samantha, Kamiko, and Romeo were likely to get sucked into things. Most men never hit women, but that didn’t help Romeo any. I was pretty sure he’d need protecting. And if Samantha or Kamiko tried to help out and protect me, they’d probably get punched up in the process.
If I was by myself, I would’ve bolted. I didn’t need more court trouble than I already had. And I doubted any of these pricks could catch me in a foot race, rugby or no rugby. I didn’t give a shit if they called me a pussy for running away. But if I ran, there was no way Samantha, Kamiko, and Romeo would be able to keep up.
What to do?
Samantha was right. Her phone didn’t matter. Best to just walk away.
I took a step back and put my arm around Samantha. “All right, let’s go, you guys.”
I felt Samantha breathe a sigh of relief.
The four of us turned around and started walking toward the front doors of Paiute Hall.
I quietly said, “Kamiko, get your card key ready so we can walk right into the building.”
“Okay,” she said. The card key was already in her hand, attached to her key ring.
Something slammed into my back and I went careening forward. Samantha stumbled, almost tripping, but caught herself.
“Get the fuck back here, bitch!” Crew Cut shouted. “We’re not finished!”
The four of us turned to face him. Crew Cut stood proudly, cracking the knuckles of his fists, his four buddies right behind him.
“Open those doors, Kamiko,” I hissed. “Get inside right now.”
“Stop it!” Samantha shouted at Crew Cut.
“Too late for that, bitch.”
Kamiko had one of the doors open. “Come on, Romeo!”
Romeo was overwhelmed by what was happening. Kamiko reached out and pulled Romeo into the building.
“Get inside,” I said to Samantha.
“Not without you!” she pleaded.
“Now!” I backed toward the door.
Samantha stepped inside. “Come on, Christos!”
Crew Cut was advancing toward me.
Samantha reached out for my arm.
I pushed the door to Paiute Hall shut, forcing her inside. “Don’t open that door,” I growled.
Crew Cut rushed at me. I ducked and pivoted under his right arm and launched a looping left into his liver. He folded like a sack of potatoes and banged his shoulder against the doors of Paiute Hall with a rattle.
Four guys came at me like charging rhinos. I danced to the side and slammed my fist into one guy’s left temple. Lights out. He was on the ground.
But Crew Cut was getting up, and the three other guys pounded me with a hailstorm of fists. One caught me in the chest, another in the jaw, another in my left eye. My own fists were flying and I whipped an elbow into the bearded guy’s nose. Blood gushed from his face. The other two guys tried to wrestle me down but I snaked out of their hands and ran like hell for my bike in the parking lot.
I heard heavy footsteps pounding behind me, but there was no way they were keeping up. I had my bike key out when I made it to my Ducati and hopped on. I started the bike and heeled the kickstand up while revving the throttle. I had the bike turned around as the guys rounded into the parking lot and I was off like a rocket.
In my rearview, I saw them sprinting after me, but they gave up after ten yards. I flew out of the far end of the parking lot, turned onto Adams College Drive, which led out to North Torrey Pines, and cranked the throttle.
What the fuck was that?
My mind raced over the situation. I wasn’t too worried about those guys following me now that I was on my bike. One, they couldn’t catch me unless they had sport bikes, and two, with three of them banged up pretty good, I doubted they’d be in hot pursuit.
I wanted to call Samantha and tell her I was okay, but her phon
e was gone. I didn’t have Kamiko or Romeo’s numbers, so I couldn’t call them. And I didn’t want to head back to campus too soon, because I wanted to wait until those guys were long gone, and because someone would probably have called campus security by now.
The one thing that couldn’t wait was putting my helmet on. A quarter mile from campus, I rolled to a stop on the side of the road and grabbed my helmet from where it was strapped to the side of my bike. No need getting pulled over for riding without a helmet on top of everything else.
After my helmet was on, I cruised toward La Jolla Village. I ended up at the La Jolla Village Square mall and parked outside the Ralph’s grocery store. I swung my leg over the seat and took my helmet off. I was sweating good from the exertion of the fighting and the running. My helmet liner was damp with perspiration. I strolled inside Ralph’s. Pausing at the liquor aisle, I considered grabbing a bottle of bourbon, but I had to ride my bike home. So I snagged a huge bottle of water off the shelf in the beverage aisle and went up front to pay for it.
I set the water on the conveyor at the cash register. The clerk, a young woman with a sleepy expression and too much eye makeup, looked up at me and grimaced.
That wasn’t the reaction I was used to with the ladies.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
I reached a hand up and touched my cheek. Now that the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, I felt the throb on my cheek bone where one of the rugby guys had clocked me. He’d hit me harder than I’d realized. A dozen lame excuses raced through my brain. Ran into a door. Tripped on the sidewalk. Fell down the stairs. Stepped in front of a forklift. Wrestled a bear. Went twelve rounds with an elephant. Etc., etc., etc.
I winked at her, “Got in a fight with a drunken rugby team.” Sometimes the truth sounded too ridiculous to believe. That was my plan.
She arched an eyebrow, “All by yourself?”
“Yeah.”
She frowned skeptically, “Really?”
I chuckled. What was it about my physical appearance (muscles, tats, banged up face) that said, “this guy doesn’t get in fights”? It always amused me when people didn’t believe the truth.
“Really,” I said.
She flashed a big smile, and her sleepy expression gave way to a pretty set of teeth. She had a rocking little body and was actually cute when she wasn’t halfway to slumberland. “Do you need someone to put ice on it? My shift is over in half an hour.”
Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3) Page 3