I grabbed a smaller tub and pulled out scissors and some fishing line. "Okay, time to have these bad boys on duty defending my Lego city." I gestured to the branches of my potted trees that extended over the Lego bench. "Up there will do, you think?"
"Wait, you want to save mine too?" he asked incredulously, looking down at the ship in his hands.
"Don't be an idiot. Of course I do. Unless you’d like to take it home with you," I offered.
“No, no! I want it here, patrolling alongside yours.” He grinned.
And with that, we set about affixing the little spaceships to my tree, our truce holding.
By that evening, not only had Wrath proven he was a very quick study of the art of Lego but his shoulders and back no longer bothered him, so jam night at the community center was a go. I decided to wear something a bit casual-dressy, which meant nice jeans and a tightish mint green knit sweater that showed off all my curves. I put on a full face of makeup—a rarity for me—and double-checked to make sure there was no lipstick on my teeth, also a rarity. I curled my hair a bit, and satisfied with my appearance, left my room to meet up with Wrath.
Wrath was waiting in the living room, perusing my bookshelves. When he turned, I gulped a little. He was wearing dark jeans, boots, and a black button down rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his forearm tats. His beautiful long hair was loose, hanging low to his mid back, and gleaming. He wore leather bracelets on each arm, and a silver ring on his right hand. He was, in a word, hot, and that tingly feeling came back over my body.
After the stare fest, I snapped out of it and recalled the time I was riding my trusty brown-striped zebreh through the Plains of Despair, in Magecraft, stalking the mighty blue buffalo. This was something few dared, as the blue buffalo were not only vicious, they were shy and expert hiders. It was almost impossible to sneak up on one undetected, but the rewards were plentiful for the victorious few. I had been giddy with excitement when one finally appeared in my sights. I climbed off the zebreh and stealthily moved through the high grass, weapon raised, when suddenly from the sky came the roar and thunder of some idiot in a helicopter, making the grasses blow and scaring the crap out of my kill. I stood there, ready to give G.I. Joe a piece of my mind. And who had climbed out? Wrath. All to show off his new pauldrons. Like I gave a damn about his shoulder armor! My blue buffalo had bounded away across the plain as Wrath strutted in front of me.
Adequately reminded of why I found him rude and obnoxious rather than sexy as hell, I gave his outfit a nod of approval and headed to the door to put on my shoes and grab my coat. He followed me to the door. "You look very nice tonight, Maxine," he said softly.
I would be lying to myself if I ignored that damn tingling that followed his use of my full name. However, I replied, "It's Max. Or Maximus. Unless you want me to start calling you Jonathan."
"I wouldn't mind," he replied, also grabbing his well-worn brown leather coat.
"Well, you've been Wrath to me for ten years. I don't know how easy the switch would be," I said, meaning it. I locked up my cottage and we climbed into Stiles, Wrath taking control of the stereo. His music choices were on point, and as we headed through the streets of Green Valley, we sang together.
I brought Stiles to a stop with his signature lurch at the community center and turned in my seat toward Wrath, determination on my face. “Okay, here are the rules,” I began sternly. Stern, because I felt myself being pulled toward Wrath, and it disturbed me. I didn’t trust easily since the attack, especially men.
“Rules? Our fun night out at the community center has rules?” He cocked an eyebrow comically high.
“Yes, rules,” I replied. “So listen up. First, there will be lots of people here who will assume we’re together-together. Every chance you get, please dissuade them of that notion. You’re an old family friend from out of town, that’s it. Keep the story simple.” I reached into my bag to find my red lip stain and pulled down the mirror in the Jeep. It was definitely touch-up time. I was just applying it to the center of my upper lip when Wrath spoke and my application took a disastrous turn.
“You know, for someone who doesn’t ever lie, you sure are good at hatching plots where lies are involved,” he commented, that eyebrow staying cocked.
I felt my gut sink like a stone. He was right. I was fixing to tell the whole town more lies. And this time I was asking someone else to lie for me as well. From hiding who I was from everyone in Green Valley for a decade , to lying about not seeing the faces of those who assaulted me, to lurking behind a male avatar online instead of accepting invitations to go out in town and socialize—when those invitations used to come. Turns out, if you say no often enough, people stop asking.
I looked down, bit my tongue, and then looked back up at Wrath’s beautiful and disappointed eyes. “Okay. You’re my friend from an online game. But not my boyfriend. Can we stick to that?”
Wrath smiled.
“I’m proud of you, Maxine,” he said, using my full name for the second time in a row. I wasn’t sure what I thought of that.
“Thank you, Jonathan,” I returned. Now, to wipe down my lip stain and start from scratch. My hand vibrated a little, and I thought about his real name falling from my lips. It was the first time we’d used each other’s names like that, back and forth, and it felt significant. I shook off the strange feeling and got back to business.
“Where were we? Oh right, the rules. Okay, second and most importantly, do not, I repeat, do not take the last helping of coleslaw. I don’t want my guest to be the one to finish it off and endure everyone’s hostile stares for the rest of the evening.”
This was no joke. There were always people who missed out on the coleslaw and then would stare at other people’s coleslaw-laden plates to see who took how much.
“We’re friends from an online game, we’re not sharing a bed, and don’t finish off the coleslaw. I think I got it. And your lips look great. Stop fiddling with them.”
I was so surprised by his comment that I did stop, and when I took stock in the mirror, I realized he was right. I was ready, war paint and all. I could face the town, and tonight I would not, I repeat, not, be a wallflower.
The community center was hopping, and I put my platter of shamefully bakery-bought cupcakes on the dessert table while Wrath wandered behind me, sticking his head in each room we passed. Once my dessert was down, I poked Wrath in the arm and directed us to the bluegrass room, no doubt the most packed room in the place because of who would be singing tonight. Cletus had given me the heads-up at our last book club meeting that his brother, Billy Winston, and Billy’s wife, Scarlet Claire Winston—otherwise known as country singer Claire McClure—were going to be in town this weekend. Their rich and melodic voices filled the space, with Cletus providing accompaniment on the banjo, Billy playing guitar, along with Drew Runous, brother-in-law to the Winston clan by marriage to the lone girl amongst the seven siblings, Ashley.
Years ago, I had rather unfairly given Scarlet a wide berth when she came back to town married to Ben McClure. I had gone to school with her and would never forget that hair or those eyes, so I recognized her right away—the daughter of Razor Dennings, then-president of the Iron Wraiths. After my own run-in with the Wraiths, I avoided everything and everyone that had even the slightest connection with them.
It had taken me a while, and some therapy, to see that people like Cletus—whose Daddy was Razor’s vice president—and Scarlet were not responsible for the sins of their fathers or those their fathers ordered about. Avoiding them was avoiding good people that might turn out to be good friends. My therapist was right on one front. After sweet Bethany Winston—a co-worker at the library—had passed, I had shown up at the Winston place with a blueberry pie. Cletus had answered the door, wearing a smoking jacket. We sat on that porch and talked and talked, and I considered us allies and friends ever since.
“Holy hell, that’s the Devil’s Daughter,” Wrath whispered, nodding toward Scarlet, and I elbowed
him sharply.
“Do not ever, ever call her that, and don’t let anyone hear you call her that, especially her family. Scarlet is not defined by, or responsible for, her scumbag serial killer father.”
“No, of course not,” he mumbled, looking taken down a peg. “So this is what y’all do for fun in Green Valley,” he mused.
“Well, on Friday nights I’m usually in a raid with the guild,” I replied, thinking back to all the times someone I bumped into around town had commented that they hadn’t seen me at the community center. I often made excuses about not feeling well or visiting my mom, which I knew was wrong. But how do you explain that you’re more comfortable socializing through your computer than joining the whole town in “real” life? How had I let myself become such a hermit that I was on my way to becoming my own mother? I shuddered at the realization and felt a jolt of fear run through me. As I looked at the faces around me, most smiling, some singing, almost all swaying along to the sweet music, I vowed that I would not become the next town recluse.
Chapter 9
Jonathan
“Free armor dyes, festive masks, and fireworks! PM me!”
― Wrath
After the group sang and twanged through a ton of damn fine bluegrass, the crowd began to thin a bit, and the banjo player declared the quartet was retiring for the evening. Max grabbed my arm and gracelessly hauled me through the audience toward the banjo player.
Our arms still linked, and with a megawatt smile on her face, she shouted, "Cletus! That was incredible tonight."
“It was, man. You’ve got a great sound,” I offered.
Cletus looked from Max, to our joined arms, again at me, and then back at Max. I didn’t want to engage in stereotypical jealous guy behavior, but I did want to sniff out who this Cletus was to her. What had he done to earn her smiles and respect?
“Thank you,” he replied, then looked pointedly behind us. “Maxine, you seem to have misplaced the rest of your guests from your game. I suspect you noticed this, which is why you’re hanging onto this one so tightly.”
“Oh!” Max said in surprise and dropped my arm like it was a hot potato. I instantly disliked Cletus. “All the others couldn’t make it. Just him. Cletus, meet Wrath—er, Jonathan Owen from Florida. Jonathan, this is my friend Cletus Winston.”
Not one to let my manners fail me when needed, I stuck out my hand and Cletus gave it a firm shake. “Jonathan Owen, would you happen to be the same gentleman who enjoys harrying Maxine at every available turn?”
I spun to face Maxine. “You told people that about me? What else did you say, that I like to hunt people for sport?” I felt my face redden in embarrassment as I recalled the time I had also besmirched her good name to the other guild officers. I wasn’t sure what to do with the information that she was talking unfavorably about me to her friends. I felt like every time we made some progress and I got to show her more of who I really was, something popped up to remind me of her animosity.
“Wrath, calm down. Of course not. I was telling Cletus about the game, that’s all.”
“Oh, I see. That’s all,” I said sarcastically.
“It would seem to me,” Cletus said, inserting himself into our fight, "that you two need to have a tête-à-tête, but allow me to suggest not tonight. We're fixing to take things back to my brother's place up on Bandit Lake. Scarlet and Billy will be there singing, and I'll have my banjo and a dulcimer. If you can sit in your own stew for the rest of the evening, you can imbibe and listen to more fine music."
And with that, he packed up his banjo and gave Max a little salute as he left the room.
"So, feel like hitting up a party?" Max asked, almost cautiously.
I thought about it. I was mad as hell that not only did Max hate me, she had told her offline friends I was some kind of dastardly character. That being said, I didn't want to piss her off by saying no when she probably wanted to go. Plan Seduction would suggest that I be pliable to her wishes, even if I thought she was a jerk at the moment. I hoped that this wasn't some big rager we were headed to because being the only sober person at a party is about as much fun as watching paint dry, only the wall sometimes vomits and tries to get into your pants.
"Fine," I answered. "Party it is, princess." I couldn't help poking the bear, just a little. Her eyes flashed fire, and I smiled, gesturing with my arm that she should lead the way.
Back in the Jeep, she turned to me before starting the engine. “Wrath, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you have to understand that in the past, you have hurt mine. I needed to decompress some of that with my friends. Can we forget about this?” The earnest look on her face was too much for me to resist.
“Consider it forgotten,” I replied. “Whose turn is it to pick the playlist?”
It was not a rager. After we finally arrived at our destination, which I'll admit took some skill for Max to navigate the twisty mountain road at night, we were welcomed by everyone like old friends, though I didn’t have two clues who anyone was save the four performers I’d listened to at the jam session. A few new musicians joined as couples swayed on the makeshift dance floor. Max seemed determined to undo the harm done at the community center. She introduced me to everyone as "one of her oldest friends" which was enough to earn me some clout. I was offered places to sit, drinks, snacks, the works.
Better still, no one cared when I turned down the beer, whiskey, and tequila for Coke. Max hovered over me until I told her to track down some people she knew and have some fun, and I saw her head to another room of the house with a bottle of tequila. I would have liked to spend every moment with her, but it struck me that she probably didn’t get out to too many parties, and I wanted her to have as good a time as possible. As the night wore on, I realized I was supposed to have taken my pills hours ago, so I figured there was no harm in having a beer since it looked like Maxine and I wouldn’t be getting home anytime soon. Most of the women, including Maxine, headed outdoors holding bottles, complaining it was too hot inside with all the people. I joined some of the other bearded men in a game of cards—at which I lost horribly—and was eventually coaxed into giving the dulcimer a try after Cletus had noticed my keen interest in the instrument. I was able to pick up a few melodies as the main group played and was applauded loudly for my efforts. I’d played the guitar in high school, and my musical tastes were pretty eclectic, so I was no stranger to bluegrass and country.
The noise must have attracted the girl gaggle back inside because I saw them file in—without Maxine. I assumed she was still with them. They all looked plastered, so I could forgive the oversight, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to go look for her right the heck now. We were on a lake, it was pitch-black, and I didn’t have a clue how Maxine held her liquor. All reasons to put down the dulcimer and go search outside.
I stopped the first woman I found and asked her where Maxine was. She giggled, and then looked alarmed when she saw the concern on my face.
“She was with us for a little while but said she needed to clear her head with some fresh air. I don’t think she’s normally a big tequila drinker.” The woman hiccupped and looked green, making a mad dash for what I assumed was the bathroom.
Great, Max was wandering around outside, alone, and was probably smashed. I grabbed our coats and made tracks for the front door. I headed around the side of the house where the floodlights didn’t shine.
“Maxine!” I called, looking out over the pitch-black of the yard. Dammit, what if she’d decided to go in the lake? She was probably too wasted. She’d drown. My heart started to race, my mouth went dry, and I was about to marshal up a posse to go looking for her when I heard, faintly, “Jonathan? I’m down here.”
I peered out into the night and saw a dark lump move on the grass, and I quickly made my way down the lawn to her.
“What are you doing down there?” I asked, my racing heart beginning to slow, thankful I had found her safe.
“I’m looking at the stars. Come lie dow
n with me and look. It’s incredible tonight. The ground is cold, but you’re so hot you’re bound to be warm.”
Rolling my eyes at her drunken logic, I sat on the grass next to her, and she pulled on my arm until I was lying beside her.
She lifted her free hand and said in an authoritative tone, “See, that’s Ursa Major, just there. And there’s Andromeda, see? And that’s Cassiopenis.” She hiccupped. “Cassiopeia.”
That set off a laughing fit, and while I was happy she was so relaxed, it was also jarring to deal with her intoxication. I kept thinking about my father, and how he would laugh and sing and then snap! He’d slap my mom or me for no damn reason. This was all harmless fun to Max, but to me it was on the edge of scary, and I wished to God I had one of my antianxiety pills here. Not that I could mix it with the beer I’d had, but it would make me feel better having it in my pocket. Plenty of people had been drinking inside, and I usually was okay being around it, but something about the fact that I loved Max made her drinking unsettling to me. I never wanted to be involved with a big drinker, and I hoped that this type of thing was unusual for her.
I was so caught up in my own anxious spiral that it took me a moment to realize Max had rolled toward me and fastened her soft mouth to mine. All of my anxieties disappeared with the feeling of her warm body next to mine and her lips exploring my own. I’d like to say she tasted like strawberries or summer, but honestly, it was tequila with a coleslaw chaser. I didn’t care. Kissing Max was the most pivotal moment in my life, and I was going to enjoy every second of it. Her softness, her little moans, her hands in my hair. She nibbled on my lower lip and darted her tongue out to lick me, clumsily inserting it into my mouth. At this, I met her with enthusiasm because I knew I may never get the chance to kiss Max again. And oh god, she was drunk, and I was only a little buzzed. We had to stop. In a minute.
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