Want

by Stephanie Lawton

  “Thank you,” he whispers. “Be careful.”

  Now comes the really hard part. No, I take that back. She’ll put up a good front since half the Mystics stand on the sidewalk to see what’s going on. She plasters on a smile, a contrast to the fingernails that dig into my wrist as she leads me back to the float barn. “I’ll deal with you at home.”

  Figured. But it was worth it. Because when I pressed myself against Isaac? He’d smiled just a tiny bit.

  ***

  New Year’s Day passes without incident. I think we’re too tired after partying most of the night, though Mama’s at the gym. Even more than punishing me for publicly disobeying her, Mama’s worried about burning off the calories she was forced to drink.

  I text Isaac and ask him to meet me at Felix’s the next evening. I get an immediate answer: K.

  I chuck the phone onto my bed.

  How far I’ve come since I met him.

  I never dreamed of ignoring Mama like I did outside the party, let alone plastering myself to him right in front of her. To top it off, I’ll sneak out of the house tomorrow night to meet him at a bar. I must seriously have a death wish. Or maybe a life wish. I don’t know. I’m tired of the half-life I’ve been forced to lead, too doubtful and scared of Mama to do the things I want to do, the things most of my friends did years ago. I swore I’d really start to live once I got to college, but it seems I’ve gotten a jump on things. So far, the consequences have been manageable. I’m still in one piece, and I landed an audition in Boston.

  If I can just get through January.

  ***

  “What the hell?”

  “What do you mean, what the hell?”

  R.J. is on the loveseat while I screw around on the piano.

  “What were you thinking running after Isaac Laroche last night? Juli, he isn’t your friend. He’s your piano instructor. You act like a lovesick puppy that nips at his heels whenever he throws you a scrap, you know? And I thought Mama would have a come-apart right there in the float barn. She and Marcie Swann got in a fight before she came after you. I tried to distract her, but I couldn’t. I had too much to drink and could hardly stand. Do you know how scared I was? All the things I imagined she’d say to you?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. It never occurred to me, the toll this could take on R.J.

  “Juli, I can’t look out for you if you’re not even going to look out for yourself.”

  “R.J., I’m tired. Tired of making every decision based on what Mama might or might not do. I’m almost eighteen years old, and do you know I’ve never been on a real date? I’ve never worn a skirt above the knee, except those hideous uniforms. If I didn’t sneak out, I’d have no life at all. Isaac might be a little old for me, but he’s shown me what life could be like once I’m out of here. And I want that. I want it so bad I’ll go crazy! I want disgusting dorm showers. I want to freeze half to death in a Boston snowstorm. I want teachers who obsess over Rachmaninoff as much as I do. It’d be nice to have a friend who doesn’t know a thing about Mama. Hell, I might even start swearing and going to frat parties.”

  R.J. rolls his eyes.

  “And Isaac is my ticket there. Without him, my chances are okay, but with him, it’s almost a given. And if you think I’m going to let anything jeopardize that, you’ve seriously underestimated me. I’m not the same as I was before you left for school. I’m not perfect, but I’ve got something to offer, even if Mama doesn’t agree. So you’re either with me or against me. I supported you in your decision to switch careers, didn’t I? Is it so much to ask that you do the same?”

  R.J. shakes his head. I don’t want to talk anymore. I take a couple steps, but R.J.’s got more to say.

  “I realized something last night, Juli. Remember when I said there was something weird about Mama and Daddy setting you up with Isaac Laroche? I’ve thought about it, tried to figure out all the stuff I heard when we were little, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I couldn’t sort out what I remembered and what I thought I remembered. I don’t know if it’s because I was drunk or what, but when Isaac walked in and Heather Swann about passed out, it came to me.”

  “What?” My patience is thin. I’ve heard enough and I’m done. I don’t care about Heather Swann, and I don’t care what happened in the past. I just want to see Isaac tomorrow night so I can make sure he’s okay. If he wants to tell me what last night’s drama was all about, fine. But I’m done snooping into his secrets.

  I change my mind when R.J. tells me his news.

  “Juli, Isaac Laroche is a child predator.”

  He could have said “felon”’ Or “porn star”. Or even “former circus midget” and there would’ve been a better chance I’d believe him.

  Child predator? Not in a million years. The man never once gave off a creepy vibe. Besides, he’s been asked to help judge the young musicians’ sonata contest. And he directed the Christmas cantata with all those children in the choir. Plus, he has nieces and nephews. No way would his family let him around children if he was a known predator. Unless they don’t know… No. Impossible.

  I have to make sure I heard him right. “A child predator?”

  “Well, sort of.” R.J. stands and paces around the studio.

  “Sort of? You might want to get your facts straight before you make wild accusations. Guess you’re really not cut out to be a lawyer.”

  “I should be a private investigator. I got into Daddy’s files early this morning to see if I was right.”

  Okay. So I’m interested.

  “And?”

  “And I was mostly right. When Isaac was a senior in high school, he dated Heather Swann. He was seventeen and she was fifteen. When Mrs. Swann caught them…you know, she tried to slap him with statutory rape since the legal age of consent in Alabama—”

  “Is sixteen.”

  “Yeah, how’d you—”

  “Long story. Continue.”

  “Uh, okay. So she threatens to file charges, and he and his mama come to Daddy to find out what they can do about it. Isaac swears he didn’t force Heather, and she won’t talk to anyone, so it’s Isaac’s word against Marcie Swann’s.”

  Groan.

  “Daddy wants to preserve the peace—plus there’s no way anything can be proven—so he suggests a deal. If Mrs. Swann agrees not to press charges, Isaac has to agree to never come into contact with Heather again. After high school graduation, he has to go to college far away.”

  “And they went for that? Does she have that much power?”

  “Guess so.”

  “I don’t get it. Why would she react like that? They wouldn’t be the first people their age to do that and get caught. Isaac’s a…a catch. Why wouldn’t she approve of him?”

  “He’s a ‘catch’ now.” R.J. employs full air quotes, as if calling Isaac a catch will damage his masculinity. “But think about it. Back then, he was a horny seventeen-year-old whose dad died and left them in debt. And he wanted to be a musician. Everyone knows there’s no money in that. Who knew he’d be famous, you know?”

  “Wow, R.J., I never knew you were such a romantic.”

  “Just being practical. You know how it works around here with the biddies. They dress y’all up in poofy dresses and parade you around like steaks in a butcher shop just to snag a rich guy.”

  “So, what does this have to do with me? Why tell me this?”

  “How can you not know? Are you that blind or just stupid?”

  For the first time in my life, I consider dropping an F-bomb on him. “At least I’m not so desperate to be right that I sneak into Daddy’s confidential files. Don’t think I won’t use that against you.”

  “Juli, I did it for you. Isaac Laroche practically owns you. Everyone can see it, and if they couldn’t before, they can after last night’s stunt. Working with him professionally is one thing, but to get mixed up in his business? That’s as dangerous as getting mixed up in ours.”

  Hmph.

  When I turn a
round this time, R.J. lets me go. I need to think, and the best place for that? The shower. R.J. gave me a lot to think about, so it’ll be a long one.

  Child predator? Technically, that may be true. I’d say it’s an overstatement. Heather and Isaac were teenagers. It happens. For once, I’m proud of Daddy. He did the right thing. I mean, what if it was R.J? But I know how people are. I know how everyone is in the Mystics. How awkward that this happened among families that are supposed to be friends and work together.

  I imagine there was a split depending on who sided with the Swanns and who sided with the Laroches, and us by default. No wonder Mama and Marcie Swann fight like cats and dogs. I like to think Mama sided with the Laroches because it was the ethical choice, but experience tells me she just wanted to publicly support her husband. Put on a good front and all that. Still, they’d never let him come to our house and spend hours with me in the studio if they thought he was still into minors, even if I’m barely a minor anymore.

  Which reminds me of the night of Isaac’s symphony performance. Curtis Moore went gray in the face when I told him I was riding home with Isaac. That must be why. And when I asked Isaac about it afterward, he’d said, “No, there’s no reason we can’t work together.”

  Good to know. But is it because of the age difference, or because I’m…me? Not attractive enough. In that way, it’s another rejection. I’m seventeen, after all, and as R.J. reminded me, the legal age of consent in Alabama is sixteen. But then there was the day I did my recording and taunted him. He definitely responded, and I enjoyed seeing him with his head in his hands. That may have been cruel.

  So what about now? If people know we’re a little more than teacher and student…we are, right? I mean, we’re at least colleagues, and we established a long time ago that we’re friends. R.J.’s warning is too late. I’ve been “mixed up in his business” for a while now. I don’t see how it’ll hurt me. I’ll be out of here soon, so people can think what they want. There aren’t any guys to chase off, and none of my friends from school have a clue. Mama and Daddy trust him, although they don’t know about the rendezvous at Felix’s. Okay, rendezvous is an overstatement. Maybe. I don’t know anymore.

  But I’ll know more tomorrow tonight. What will I ask? If it’s true? If that’s why he stayed away for so long and why he’s so standoffish?

  Truth time… What I really want to know is, how does he feel about Heather Swann now, after seeing her for the first time in almost a decade? Why did he go all fugue state on me in the middle of the street?

  I won’t like the answer, that much is obvious.

  Chapter Twelve

  There are five shirts, three pairs of pants, a skirt and a zillion scarves on the bed. Shoes block the door, and there’s a bottle of perfume in each hand. Someone tell me why I do this and why I care so much. Nothing’s going to come of it.

  Tonight, Mama and Daddy are at an important meeting. R.J. is on his way back to college. Except for me and the dogs, the house is empty. I’m trying to figure out what it is I think I’ll accomplish tonight when the alarm on my phone signals it’s time to go. The city bus is scheduled to arrive in five minutes. I grab my coat, my purse, my phone and my keys. And lip gloss.

  The bus ride, though frigid, is uneventful. I spot Isaac’s car before I step onto the sidewalk. It’s directly in front of Felix’s, and it’s practically the only one on the block. Downtown is deserted, probably the result of the other night’s revelries, but the bar is still open. He waits for me by the bus stop sign. We fall into step but don’t say a word.

  Percy isn’t at his usual post beside the door. Instead, Isaac opens the door for me and places his hand on the small of my back. Polite. Dominant. Intimate.

  I draw in a sharp breath when I see where he directs me. The booth in the corner is dark, opposite the stage, and the last place anyone ever looks—its occupants are usually drunk and sucking face.

  Excited? Terrified? My stomach can’t decide what it wants to be, though it turns over at the prospect of Isaac having as much of an agenda as me. I slide into the sticky seat first, glad I decided on tight jeans instead of a skirt.

  So far, we haven’t spoken a word. My pulse kicks into overdrive when he sits with his entire right side pressed against my left. He turns to me, elbow on the table, and effectively blocks my view of the bar and the waitress who comes to take our drink order. He answers for me but never takes his eyes from mine.

  Whoa. Hello, caveman.

  When he leans in close, his dead, narrowed eyes bore a hole through my head. “What?” he growls.

  If my heart beat fast before, it gallops now. All the things I wanted to ask him? Out the window. He seems so angry. At me?

  “I w-wanted to know if you were all right?” I hate how that comes out as a question.

  My weakness makes him seethe even more. Between his clenched jaw and flared nostrils, I swear he’s about to take a bite out of me.

  “Why?”

  “Um, why what?”

  He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t think it was possible, but he moves even closer. I squeak when my back hits the wall.

  “Why,” he snarls, “do you want to know how I am? Why do you ask me to meet you here?” His lips are exactly the width of one white piano key away from mine, and I can’t stop staring. “Why do you insist on baiting me? See, I’ve had time to think over the last two days. Can you guess what I’ve been thinking about?”

  I swallow—hard. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I shake my head. The back of it rubs the wall. His eyes travel the length of me, down, then back up, lingering on my chest, my neck, my lips. Finally, he looks me in the eyes again.

  “I’ve been thinking about every time you batted your eyelashes at me, and the time you kissed me in your room. About you licking your lips and crossing your legs every time we meet here. You showing up at my house in the middle of the night wearing next to nothing. Mostly, I’ve been thinking about that ballsy move you made after your recording and how close I came to throwing your pretty ass on the floor.”

  Oh, sweet Jesus. I can hardly breathe, so it takes me a couple of tries to croak out an answer. “Oh?”

  “Until the other night, I figured it was some juvenile experiment of yours. Pushing the boundaries.” He traces a single finger down my arm from shoulder to elbow.

  I should be scared. Normal people would be scared. I try to look past him, but he’s almost on top of me. I draw in a shaky breath.

  “What’s wrong, Juli? Isn’t this what you wanted?” His hand slides up my thigh and squeezes. I’m panting, not sure if it’s from fear or something else. Maybe both. He presses his scratchy cheek against mine, then rims the curve of my ear with his tongue.

  He whispers, “How much did she pay you?”

  “What?” I go from just about pissing myself to plain old pissed in an instant. I put all my strength into shoving his wall of a chest.

  He chuckles. “Have you thought about changing your major to theater? The world needs more talented two-faced bitches.”

  That does it. I pick up the beer the waitress left on the table at some point and toss it in his face. Instead of getting angrier, he laughs and sticks out his tongue to catch a drop that slides off the tip of his nose.

  “I rest my case.”

  “Isaac Alexander Laroche, I don’t know what in hell you’re talking about, but you better explain fast. I came here to make sure you were okay after you went all lunatic fringe the other night. Not because I want something from you. And certainly not because somebody paid me!”

  I wiggle my way up until I can step from the seat onto the table and down the other side. I bolt for the door, but just as I hit the icy night air, a strong hand grips my arm.

  “Did I give you permission to leave?” Isaac shoves me against the brick exterior of the bar. Percy picked a heck of a night to be off.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  I clench my hands into fists. �
��Look, Isaac—Mr. Laroche, Mr. Hyde, whatever. I don’t know what this is about, but you’re clearly unhinged. When you care to explain all this to me, you know where to find me. Until then…” I only waver for a second. “Fuck off.”

  Isaac grins and slowly walks backward down the sidewalk. He disappears into his car and peels out.

  It’s then that the sobs work their way free. It’s dark, it’s cold, and I don’t know when the next bus is supposed to be here. I wander around to see if there’s a schedule posted somewhere. A couple of streets later, I pull out my cell and make a desperate call.

  “Me-ow, I was just thinking about you, kitten. What’s up?”

  “Dave—Isaac—he’s—something’s wrong.”

  “Okay, calm down. You’ve got my attention. First thing, are you okay?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that. Are you injured? Bleeding?”

  “No,” I whimper.

  “Has Ike been injured?”

  “No.”

  “Is he there with you?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Downtown.”

  “So, you were with Ike, but he’s not there now? He left you alone at night in downtown Mobile?”

  I rub away the tears and gather myself together. “Kind of. Look, that’s not why I called. I’m okay. A bus will be by soon. Isaac—”

  “No, screw Ike. He can take care of himself. You stay on the phone with me until you get home, understand?”

  “I’m okay, honest. But Isaac isn’t. There’s something really wrong. Something really bad happened on New Year’s Eve. Have you talked to him since then?”

  “No.”

  I give him the short version of events, leading up to this evening’s bizarre encounter. “Then he licked my ear and said How much did she pay you? What on earth does that mean?”

  Dave mumbles something I can’t understand.

  “Dave?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.”