by Sam Mariano
I wouldn't go back to sleep that night, and it wasn't the last of my bad dreams, so I hadn't been sleeping very much at all that week.
I was so busy thinking about my dreams and how tired I was that I didn't even realize anyone was approaching me until Derek was practically right in front of my face.
My guard went up, I put my fight face on, and I crossed my arms across my chest.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"What, no kiss?" he asked rhetorically, looking wounded.
"Definitely not," I responded. "I don't like to kiss the spawn of Satan."
"Well, apparently I do," he said, catching me off guard by leaning in and kissing me.
I instantly shoved his face away, surprising him, and said, "Too damn bad."
“What’s your problem?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know.
“You’re my problem. You’re an asshole.”
"That's not very nice," he said, easily capturing my hands.
Instantly enraged, I struggled with all my might, trying to hit him, but unable to as he kept holding onto me, easily restraining me even though I was using every ounce of my strength.
"I hate you," I spat, throwing my weight into him one more time before giving up and going still.
He appeared slightly thoughtful, but not overly concerned, and he simply pushed me up against the beam, greeting my glare with a smile.
"Someone's grumpy," he remarked. "What's wrong, not being sexually satisfied? I'm sure your little choir boy wouldn't even know what to do with you."
"Oh, that's where you're wrong," I lied with so much confidence that I almost believed I had slept with Andy. "Actually, he's very good at fulfilling all my needs."
He lost his smile. "Don't lie to me, Nikki. I don't like being lied to."
"Who's lying?" I replied smugly, copying Kayla's cat-that-got-the-cream look.
This did seem to piss him off, although I wasn't sure why, since at the very beginning of our agreement he had granted me permission to "do" anyone else I wanted.
"Huh," he remarked casually, controlling his anger except for the hard look in his eye, "looks like I turned you into a little whore, after all."
"Yep," I replied nastily. "Thanks, by the way. It's pretty damn satisfying. You should see the things he does to me." I shook my head. "I thought you were wild in bed, but he makes you look pretty damn boring, to be perfectly honest. Those quiet ones, you know," I said knowingly, raising an eyebrow.
I was feeling pretty cocky for a minute there, pretty satisfied that I was getting under his skin, wounding his ego, telling him a good little church-going choir boy was better in bed than he was. Then some of smugness fell away when he pushed my arms up over my head, holding them there with one hand –a favorite position of his, I gathered—and he used the other hand to unbutton and unzip my pants.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, my gaze whipping around to make sure no one was around, struggling in earnest to free my hands.
"Taking what's mine," he replied, running his hand down my side.
"I'm not yours!” I stated, struggling against him. “Let me go.”
"But we had an agreement," he said, his fingers warm on my skin as his hand pushed past the open fly of my jeans.
"I haven't seen the video," I said, trying to squeeze my legs together in case that was where he was heading.
Derek wedged his knee between my legs, releasing me just long enough to hoist me up so that I was straddling his knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a CD, holding it up in front of my face.
"It's just a copy, so feel free to destroy it when you're done watching it."
I glared at him, but took the damn thing anyway.
Derek pressed his weight into me, pinning me against the beam and said, "Let's make one thing very clear, Nikki. You are mine, whether you admit it or not, and until I decide I don't want you anymore, you will continue to be mine."
Well, I wasn't going to just accept that.
"No, Derek, you listen to me. I will never be yours, and I don't care if you want me or not, because I don't want you. I hate you. I hate you more than anything in the whole world, and to be perfectly honest, I don't care if you and Kayla make spectacles of yourself every single day for the rest of your pathetic lives, so you can stop thinking that you bother me. You don't."
He smirked, saying, "Now Nikki, what did I say about lying?"
"Let me down," I said, not wanting to sit on his knee.
Surprisingly, he listened, letting me down, but he kept hold of my hands. "Let's make one more thing clear," he said.
"Oh joy," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.
"I could have taken you right here under the bleachers and had you begging me for it in less than three minutes."
Oh, I hated him and his arrogance. "I don’t think so."
He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly to the side. "Really? You don't think so? Want to go back to my car and see what we can do in three minutes?"
I stood there stubbornly, refusing to say a word.
"Our arrangement isn't over, Nikki. Not by a long shot."
"We'll see about that," I stated, full of bravado.
He smirked. "Yeah, I guess we will," he said, finally releasing my hands.
I hit him as hard as I could in the chest, but I think I hurt my hand more than I hurt him—not that I would ever let him know that.
His eyes just twinkled, making me hate him even more, and then he walked back out from under the bleachers.
I stayed there, grumbling about how much I hated him as I stared at the dreaded disc.
Well, there it was. Whatever was actually on that disk was responsible for all the bullshit I was experiencing. Part of me couldn't wait to see what was on it, while another part, the part that had been hoping he was lying, reasoned that if he handed it over like that, whatever he taped must have been bad enough that he felt confident I wouldn't want anyone to see it.
Chapter Six-
Any hope that I had of Derek's video being a load of crap disappeared as soon as I played it.
In the beginning, as I sat in front of my computer watching the video, it was just me doing a little striptease, clearly drunk and certainly not up to the standards of a stripper, so I decided it was probably nothing to worry about. I was giggling as I took off my shirt, then I approached the camera, and presumably Derek, and that was when I sat on his lap and started kissing him, taking his hair down, telling him his hair was sexy.
"Yeah?" he murmured in a tone that might've sounded tender or affectionate to a stranger.
"Yeah," I replied sweetly, then there were kissing noises.
Oh yeah, I thought sardonically, me clumsily (and drunkenly) taking my shirt off and then the sound of kissing. That was really going to shatter my reputation.
But then Derek said, "Can I keep taping?"
"Sure," I replied like a moron.
Holy shit, I really had given him permission.
Then there was a blur, some movement, and the camera was apparently put down on the edge of the dresser, pointing straight at the bed.
Well, I really didn't remember that part.
The rest of the video, what I could bear to watch anyway, was unbelievable to me, and I wouldn't have believed Derek if I wouldn't have been watching the tape with my own two eyes, hearing my voice moan Derek's name over and over again. There is no other word for what took place on that video. It was porn, and it would indubitably ruin my reputation.
I finally shut the video off was when Derek had me on the bed, facing the camera, and he was taking me from behind. I seemed to be enjoying myself quite a lot as I panted and begged, gasped and dug into the sheets.
When I popped the disk out of my disc drive, I broke it in half, never wanting to see it again.
The video disgusted me, but not more than the realization that Derek was right; if anyone ever saw that tape, I would die of mortification. I would never be able to leave my room, never be able t
o go out in public again.
He had me, and it killed me to admit it, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Yes, technically there was the option of taking legal action against him, but if I did that it would all come out anyway and everyone would know I had slept with him.
I didn't have to see Derek again until Monday at school. As soon as he saw me and I couldn't meet his gaze, I figured he knew I had watched the video.
I didn't bother going to lunch, not wanting to watch Derek being all lovey-dovey with Kayla, and no longer wanting to sit with Andy and pretend I wanted him.
I just felt tired.
I had tried to get along with Derek, and that didn't work. I had tried to get along with him again, and it still didn't work. So I had tried hating him. That worked, but didn't accomplish anything. I didn't know what else to do. Every way I turned, it looked like I was on the losing end.
I could allow his attentions, admit that despite hating him, I still seemed to want him sexually, but what would that lead to? How long would I have to be his little fuck-buddy?
That was the problem with giving in to blackmail. Once you start paying, they'll just keep making you pay until they bleed you completely dry.
Boy had I screwed up royally.
And he had me exactly where he wanted me.
Damn him.
I was sitting alone on the bench, stewing in my hopeless misery when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I looked up, fully expecting to see Derek, but instead I saw Andy.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," I replied, trying not to look too confused.
"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting down beside me on the bench.
I shook my head, unable to form the words. I couldn't tell him the truth. There was no point. It would only hurt him even more.
So I just shook my head. "Nothing."
"Why didn't you come to lunch?" he asked.
"I'm not hungry," I said, and at least that much was true.
He sat there silently for a moment, then said, "You've been different lately."
"Have I?" I responded, not having the energy to argue.
"Yeah. You haven't been... acting like yourself."
I sighed, not really knowing what else to say. "Sorry."
Andy wrapped an arm around me, pulling me a little closer. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever's wrong, you know you can tell me."
If only that were true, I thought wistfully. But it would do no good, so I merely half-smiled, allowing my head to rest on his shoulder and said, "I know."
We got our pharaoh papers back that day, and I saw that mine was an A plus. Despite myself, I caught myself glancing up at Derek's desk, craning my neck to see what he got. I saw another A plus on his, so I felt a small surge of satisfaction at getting two As.
As soon as school was out, I hoisted my backpack and started to make my way out of the building, intending to walk home and get ready for work, but suddenly I felt my heavy backpack –and me with it—being pulled on. I stumbled a little, and before I knew what was going on, I was pulled into an empty classroom.
There stood Derek, looking right at me.
I sighed, looking away from him. "What do you want now? Ruining my life isn't enough for you, you have to make me late for work, too?"
"No, I wanted to—"
But I stopped listening, because my eyes, wanting to look anywhere but at him, had fallen to his shoes. His black shoes. With yellow laces.
I looked up at him, my jaw hanging open. "When did you get those?"
"What?" he asked, frowning at me. "Did you even hear me?"
"Answer me," I said. "When did you get those shoes?"
He frowned, looking down at his shoes. "I've... had these shoes."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "You have not had those shoes. I have never seen you wearing shoes with yellow laces."
"Oh, the laces are new. My shoe laces got ripped the other day, this was the only color the store had left."
"Oh," I said absently, staring at his shoes, remembering my dream.
"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning at me. "Nikki, you haven't heard a word I said, have you?"
I shook my head lamely, my mind racing. What did it mean? Was it a coincidence? Was it a warning? Had it already happened? Was anything going to happen or was I just crazy?
"I have to go," I said suddenly.
"But—"
"Later!" I called behind me, practically running out of the classroom.
I couldn't get home fast enough.
By the time I burst into my trailer, I was completely out of breath from running, but I had to get to that journal, because as soon as I saw his laces I had a sudden memory of something my mother had said.
I grabbed the journal she had used in October the year before Derek was born, and I went over the pages until I found the entry I was looking for.
"There it is," I whispered to myself.
Speaking of Mike, I had the strangest thought today. I have no idea why, because he told me just yesterday that he didn't have a girlfriend, that the girl who gives him rides home from work isn't his girlfriend anymore and they’re just friends, but for some reason when I was dropping fries today, the thought suddenly crossed through my mind, "At least we don't have to worry about her getting pregnant."
It was such a strange thought to have. And what's funnier, it's not the first time I've had such a silly thought. I remember last month, I had only met him that week, and Michelle had asked him casually if he had any kids. He scoffed, and said, "No way." I remember looking at him, and for absolutely no reason, thinking, "Don't sleep with anyone then," because for some reason I just felt like he was at risk for getting someone pregnant.
Of course I couldn't say that to him, because he would think I was crazy.
But today I just felt oddly thankful that we dodged that bullet, because I really like him...
There it was.
I couldn't remember which journal it was in, but I knew after my mom found out that Sarah was pregnant –that she had conceived in November, which was after October and September—she had kicked herself so many times, writing that she wished she could just go back to one of those days and warn him. I remember she wrote something like,"It was as if I could somehow, by some strange instinct, sense that she was going to get pregnant, and I didn't listen. I didn't do anything to stop it."
I sat there staring at the journal, trying to figure out if I was onto something, or if I was just making something out of nothing. What if that dream had been warning me, like that feeling had warned my mother? Was Derek going to get Kayla pregnant?
If he was, did I really want to stop him? After all, if I kept my mouth shut and he ended up knocking Kayla up, he would most likely be too busy dealing with that, and he wouldn't care about blackmailing me anymore. That could be my way out.
But, for some reason that I didn't quite understand, I didn't want that to happen to him.
It kind of irritated me, but I decided that I had to tell him. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it was nothing, but if I kept my mouth shut and found out in two months that Kayla was pregnant, I was going to feel responsible.
Damn it.
I picked up my cell phone and dialed Derek's number, trying to figure out how I was going to word what I wanted to say to him. "Oh, hi Derek, it's me. I just wanted to tell you that I had a dream the other day that you got Kayla pregnant, so I just wanted to tell you, whatever you do, don't sleep with her, because you will get her pregnant and be miserable forever."
Yep, that would totally work, I thought sarcastically.
"Hello?" he finally answered.
"Derek, it's me," I said.
"I know, I saw your number on the caller ID. What do you want?"
I frowned. "Grumpy much?"
"Well, you didn't want to listen to me earlier, but now you're calling me?"
I sighed. "Fine, what did you want to say?"
“You didn't hear anything I
said, did you?" he complained.
"No, I'm sorry, I didn't, but I'm listening now."
"I'm changing the terms of our agreement," he stated.
I frowned. "Wait, what? You can’t do that. What do you mean?"
"I know when I gave you my terms I told you I didn't care who else you were sleeping with— and I don't, it's not that, but I don't like sloppy seconds, so I'm changing the terms."
Was he serious? "Derek..."
"I'm serious, Nikki. I want you to break up with Andy."
"No," I replied, not even having to think about it.
"Fine, then I'm going to show him a copy of the tape," he retorted.
"What?" I demanded. "You would not do that!"
"Watch me," he returned.
"Derek, that would be... the cruelest thing you could possibly do. You have no idea how much that would hurt him. You can't do that," I argued.
"Like I care. I know he's the jealous type," he said, sounding pretty confident. "He won't want my sloppy seconds, either."
The gall of him. I was calling to save his life, and he was telling me to break up with my boyfriend or he would break up with him for me. How presumptuous.
"That's not fair at all. You’re being ridiculous."
"You're not fucking him anymore, Nikki," he said lowly, and I knew he was serious.
I sighed, kind of wishing I had never told that lie. "If I didn't know better, I might think you cared," I remarked.
The line fell silent for a couple seconds, then he said, "I don't, it's just the principle."
I frowned at his hesitation, but decided I shouldn't make too much of it.
Since guilt wasn't working on him, I decided to use a new angle. "You can't expect me to be faithful to you when you're sleeping with someone else, Derek. It doesn't work that way."
He fell silent again, and I thought it was the quietest he had ever been. I did finally pull the phone away and look at it to make sure I hadn't lost the call.