The Bad Boy's Dance

by Vera Calloway

  “Is he the reason you stopped dancing?”

  I halted mid-chew. It was smart of him to connect the dots, but I forgot who I was talking to. “It was my decision.”

  “That he influenced.”

  “No,” I said stubbornly. “It was my decision. I didn’t want people to see the mosaic of marks on me, anyway.”

  “That’s such a load of horse shit, angel,” Asher said softly. But instead of pursing the issue, he dropped it.

  “That’s why you hate having attention on you,” he murmured to himself, and I knew he was remembering my hurried exit from the lunch room the day he punched Tristan.

  The sound of keys jangling startled both of us. The front door opened, and Dad bellowed, “Ivy, we’re home!”

  “Keep your voice down, Victor! Jodi’s asleep, remember?” Mom snapped.

  I locked eyes with Asher. This was bad, very bad. They were coming closer, and there were no exits from the kitchen. The one window was too small to fit his frame. Cue major wig-out fest.

  Asher started opening cupboards to see if he could squeeze into them, but my quaint little kitchen was not equipped to hide a tall, muscle- bound teenager.

  It wasn’t bad enough they were going to catch me with a boy, they were going to catch me with Asher. His reputation would instantly put my parents on red-alert, and his appearance would freak out my brothers. Leather jacket, black jeans, white V-neck, and thick locks of dark hair, Asher was not exactly a preppy trust-fund baby.

  Resigned, I motioned for Asher to come stand next to me. I at least hoped he wouldn’t talk and freak my parents out even more. Mom was the first to appear in the doorway. “Ivy, have you seen-”

  Her expression was almost comical when she caught sight of Asher. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes were in danger of splattering on the floor.

  Dad was the next to enter the doorway, and he gaped. My trepidation grew as Spencer showed, because that meant that only one family member remained. The only one I was really worried about.

  Spencer just rolled his eyes and snatched one of my Pop Tarts. Apparently having exposure to Asher made it easier to deal with this awkwardness.

  The last one to appear, and subsequently shove himself to the front, was Paul.

  He stared at Asher with outright hostility. The rest of my family merely looked curious, like he was an interesting science project, but Paul looked like he was going to shred him apart.

  Asher prodded me. Oh, yeah. “Um, guys, this is Asher. He’s my dance partner.”

  “Your dance partner? But-” Dad started.

  “Yeah, yeah, we all know you guys expected a chick. As you can see, he’s not,” Spencer interjected. I shot him a glare. If he dared mention how he’d found us in the middle of nowhere, I was so telling Mom the true origins of the demise of the china cabinet.

  “Asher Grayson, sir,” Asher said politely, stretching a hand forward. Dad, after a second of hesitation, accepted it.

  “Ma’am,” he lifted Mom’s hand to his lips, and I could see Mom’s anxiety melting into goo from Asher’s charm. That sly little weasel.

  “Wait, Grayson? Are you Hayden Grayson’s son?” Dad asked.

  I saw Asher’s Adam’s apple bob, the only indication that the question made him uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  “Isn’t he the man who-” Dad started, but Mom elbowed him.

  “Would you like to move this to the living room?” Mom said, flurried. In her mind, the house was in shambles and we hadn’t stuffed Asher’s face with enough food to feed a small country, therefore we were terrible hosts.

  Hey, I offered him a Pop Tart.

  “Isn’t anyone going to ask what he’s doing in our house alone with Ivy?”

  Paul was radiating hostility, and all of it was aimed at Asher.

  “Paul. Don’t,” I ordered, and we glared at each other for a minute. “Asher, why don’t you go into the living room with my parents.”

  Gaze darting between me and my older brother, Asher was enveloped by my parents and herded into the living room.

  “What is wrong with you?” I hissed. “You’re acting like a complete jerk!”

  “Me? Are you joking right now? Do you have any idea who that is?” Paul’s anger was so great, he seemed unable to speak in anything but questions.

  “Yes, I do. He’s my dance partner who you just probably offended.”

  “Ivy, that guy is practically a criminal! Do you really expect me to let you be around him? He was arrested twelve times within a year! Not to mention his father.”

  I pointed a finger at my brother. “I’m not getting married to him, Paul! We were hanging out, and last time I checked, it’s not within your right to ‘let me’ do anything!”

  “Can you guys keep it down? Canada’s trying to get some sleep,” Spencer drawled, going over to rummage in the fridge.

  “Aren’t you at all alarmed by this?” Paul asked Spencer, frustrated.

  Spencer extracted a glazed donut and licked the sugar. I really had no idea how he managed to stay in shape when he ate like a starving sumo wrestler.

  “No, not really. I mean sure, last time I met him he annoyed me, but I don’t get a bad vibe from him or anything. If you’d remove your head from your ass for a few seconds, you might see that too,” Spencer answered, and then paused.

  “Oops,” he muttered.

  “You’ve met him before?!” Paul bellowed.

  “Enough!” I shouted before Spencer could make the situation even worse. “Stop it, Paul! The only person upsetting me right now is you!”

  Storming past, I evaded his arm when he tried to grab me. Asher was wedged between my parents, and if I wasn’t in such a bad mood, I would have laughed at the trapped look on his face.

  “Mom, Dad, Asher needs to head home. I’ll let him out, okay?” I said, gesturing for Asher to stand. He did, practically flying to my side.

  “It was truly a pleasure meeting you both,” he said smoothly, shaking (or kissing, in my Mom’s case) their hands once more.

  When we were on the porch, and I’d checked that the curtains were closed and we were out of range of the peephole, I let myself relax.

  “Sorry about that,” I apologized. “I warned you it wasn’t a good idea to come to my house.”

  He shrugged. “It’s understandable. And I guess we’re even, after my mother’s performance at breakfast. Your brother, though…” he trailed off. He didn’t need to elaborate. I knew exactly which brother he was referring to.

  “Paul’s really protective,” I sighed. “He’s a terrific guy, but he’s got issues when it comes to me.”

  “Spencer doesn’t seem as, uh, tense.”

  “Paul was the one who helped me through my recovery. He had to suffer my nightmares, my panic attacks, my fits of rage. He’s not receptive to guys near me,” I clarified, my chest tightening at the lingering guilt I felt when it came to what Paul had gone through for me.

  I should apologize. He was just trying to watch out for me.

  “Understandable,” Asher repeated softly. We shifted, and I knew that new lines had been drawn in our relationship. We each knew things about each other, private things. Sure, I hadn’t told him the full story, and he hadn’t told me everything, but it was enough.

  “I guess I’ll be heading home,” Asher lips quirked in a smile. “It’s been a very…interesting few days. Can’t say you don’t keep me on my toes, Robello.”

  Oh geez. He had to make at least one remark about my drunken fiesta last night. “It’s not car chases and guns, but I try,” I rebuffed.

  He tilted his head and mouthed ‘Touché’ as he started walking backward. The agile SOB didn’t so much as stumble until he reached his car.

  Winking at me, he disappeared into the driver’s seat, revved the engine, and drove off.

  A few minutes later, while I was still staring after the vehicle, Spencer materialized besides me.

  “No one can say the dude doesn’t have class,” he commented, chew
ing on what I assumed was his fifth donut.

  “That’s the scary thing,” I muttered, heading back to my house.

  My parents were already in bed, but I knew I hadn’t escaped trial yet. Paul, according to Spencer, had driven off to see a few of his friends and cool off. I shoved the guilt down and vowed to speak to him the minute he came home.

  I melted into the mattress, exhausted and faintly smelly.

  Note to self- take a mothereffing shower.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Horny & The Beast

  A shrill noise in my ear sent me rolling off the bed. I landed with a thump onto the ground, tangled like a pretzel in my covers. Groaning, I checked the clock. Why was I waking up this early?

  Oh, right. I need to apologize.

  It was Dana’s week to pick us all up for school. That would give me enough time to apologize to Paul. I hadn’t been able to track him down on Sunday, and my best chance was to find him before I went to school.

  I staggered blearily into the bathroom. Quickly brushing my teeth and splashing some cold water on my face, I hurried to my closet and slid into a pair of pink yoga pants and a black pull-over.

  I’d forgotten to wrap my hair in a bun last night, so it had naturally curled. Glancing at my watch, I hastily pulled it into a ponytail. Not my customary bun, but it wasn’t that big a deal, right?

  My cell phone beeped with a text from Dana.

  Dana: I’m outside. U ready?

  Me: I’m gonna talk to Paul first, remember?

  Dana: Oh yeah, u need me 2 come w/?

  Me: Sure

  Please. What a bunch of hogwash. She wanted to come up see Paul herself; she’d had a massive crush on him since freshman year. Dana was generous with her affections, being the hardcore romantic that she was. Knowing my time was limited, I yanked on my sneakers and padded down the hall to Paul’s room.

  I hesitated outside his door. What if he didn’t want to talk to me? What if he ignored me? I couldn’t take disdain from Paul, anyone but him.

  Suck it up! This is Paul we’re talking about; he’d never intentionally hurt you. Put your big-girl diapers on, march in there, and do what you gotta do!

  Reinvigorated, I threw open the door, puffed up like a canary with the words I would say to my older brother.

  Instead, I stood there, shocked, before I managed a shriek of utter disgust.

  I’d found an older brother, all right.

  Spencer shouted and tugged the covers up to hide his dangly bits. A pretty red-headed girl blinked at me in confusion, not bothering to hide anything.

  “Spencer? Who’s this?” she asked in a girly, high-pitched voice.

  Spencer coughed awkwardly into his fist. “Ah, um, this is my…” His eyes lit up with an idea. That couldn’t be good. “This is my fiancée! Yes!”

  They both turned to me, Spencer begging me with his eyes. We had the type of silent communication only siblings can.

  He widened his eyes. “Just go with it!”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”

  He pursed his lips. “If you weren’t my sister…”

  A half- grin. “Ah, but I am, therefore I require payment to rid you of your hoe.”

  Spencer blinks. “Does that make you a pimp?”

  I wink. “That means you’re the customer.”

  “Um, are you like stupid or something?” the girl snapped. “Quit staring at each other.”

  Ugh. Spencer so owed me for doing this. Again! Inhaling deeply, I began my performance. “How dare you, Spencer! And in our own bed, too! You swore, you swore to me you’d stop after the last skank you brought home gave you Gonorrhea! “

  “You have Gonorrhea?!” the girl screeched. I found it amusing that she was less offended that I’d called her a skank and implied she was one of many conquests than the fact she might have the clap.

  Spencer gave her an innocent smile and shrugged.

  Continuing with my spiel, I noticed Dana coming up the stairs and motioned for her to wait. She halted, gazing at me with raised brows. “Listen up, Spencer, enough is enough! We have six children, we can’t afford any more! Did you even warn her that you had to have your genitalia surgically enhanced because it was too small? Did you tell her what the side-effects on her might be?”

  I watched with glee as Spencer reddened, glaring at me. Insulting his man-parts was apparently excessive, but it did the job. Red- Head jolted out of bed, stealing the covers from around Spencer to hurry out. She paused at the doorway, spurring me to retreat a few steps as she glared at Spencer.

  “You disgusting pig!” she spat, stomping past Dana and down the stairs.

  Spencer, left without anything to cover himself, curled into a ball with a pillow over his front. Dana joined me at the doorway and grinned at Spencer.

  It was at that moment Paul decided to make his grand entrance. Towel drying his hair and shirtless, he made his way toward us. Dana’s eyes widened, and her ears turned red. She hated that feature; her red ears always gave away her crushes.

  “What are you guys looking at?” he inquired curiously, before glancing inside his room. His mouth dropped open as he took in the scene. Strewn clothes, a knocked- over lamp, and his bed stripped of its sheets.

  Oh, and his naked brother with only a pile of feathers protecting the innocence of our eyes.

  “SPENCER!” he bellowed. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

  “My room is right next door to Mom and Dad’s! I couldn’t get it on with my parents on the other side of the wall!” Spencer argued defensively.

  “So you decide to come into my room? I’m gonna have to burn that mattress, you horny bastard!”

  “You should be thanking me! It’s the most action this room has seen in a long time!” Spencer huffed.

  Paul’s left eye started twitching, a sign that he was a word away from exploding. Spencer must have noticed it too, because he stood, clutching the pillow against his crotch. Yeah, bro, that’s gonna save that last shred of dignity.

  Spencer, turning his nose up at us, waddled down the hall, completely unaware that we were being flashed a full moon. I clapped my hands over my eyes to try to burn the image of my brother’s butt out of my mind. Oh man, it was going to take a lot of Alex Pettyfer posters to get rid of that image.

  When the sound of Spencer’s bowlegged walk had faded, I lowered my hand. Dana was beaming. “I love your house,” she said dreamily.

  She gestured to Paul, who had thrown a red shirt on and was muttering as he used a pair of hockey sticks to pick up the clothes on the floor. “Go talk to him. I’ll go wait in the car. My heart can’t take any more Robello home drama,” she remarked.

  Giving me a final little push into the room, she skipped down the steps, not-so-subtly craning her head for more glimpses of Spencer.

  “Uh, Paul?” I said, shifting on my feet. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  He stopped his deranged muttering and turned to me. “Sure. What’s up?”

  My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so mean on Saturday. You didn’t know Asher was going to be there. You had every right to be overbearing.”

  Paul walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I buried my nose in his shoulder, returning the hug. “It’s my fault for being such a jerk. You haven’t had a guy over in forever, I should be happy for you, not a complete dick-head. It just…took me off-guard.”

  “It’s not like that! Asher and I are barely friends. Honestly, most of the time I want to whack him with the nearest heavy object, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.”

  Paul chuckled. “Right.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “I believe you,” he shrugged, releasing me. “Be careful, though. Asher Grayson has a reputation, and not everything is rumors. Don’t let him break your heart.”

  That was never going to happen, because in order for him to break my heart, I’d have to give it to him first.

 
“Why haven’t you bought them yet? I offered to get them and you said no,” Dana frowned at Jason, who squirmed guiltily. “The dance is only three weeks away.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s not my fault! Practice has been running late in soccer, and it slipped my mind. I’ll get them today, promise,” he replied with a winning smile.

  Dana couldn’t resist. She melted, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Okay, call me when you get them.”

  Rolling my eyes, I gathered my books from my locker. “I’m going to head to third period. Remember: no necking in the hallways!” I said with mock- sternness, laughing when Dana stuck out her tongue.

  Language Arts was third period, and the class was a piece of cake. “Kevin”, or Mr. Montelone, was a hippy twenty-something who thought we should bond and call each other by our first names. He’d even tried to get us to sing “Kumbaya” once.

  I personally thought he was doped up on something most of the time, but that was just me.

  Today’s class was no different. I slumped into my seat. We were placed in a large circle to facilitate group discussion, so I ended up awkwardly staring at the girl in front of me for a few minutes.

  Mr. Montelone- excuse me, Kevin- breezed into the classroom a few seconds after the bell rang. “Welcome everyone! Happy Monday!”

  We all looked at him with complete disgust at that last part. What kind of extraterrestrial enjoyed Mondays?

  He rubbed his hands together. “We begin Romeo & Juliet this week! Now I know you all read it freshman year, but that was the abridged version. We will read the full play to fully revel in the genius of Shakespeare!”

  My brain turned into a Spanish soap opera, shouting “WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?” loudly. Was the universe seeking vengeance on me because I was spreading my knowledge of moon cheese which could forever change the world as we know it?

  No, no the universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to force me to read that horrendous play a second time.

  “Comments, questions, ideas?” Mr. Montelone asked cheerfully.

  For the first time in a century, I raised my hand. “Ivy! A new voice!” he clapped his hands.