Playing with Fire_Shen

by Shen, L. J.

  “Grandmomma, Marla just told me she will be leavin’ us in a couple months. She is movin’ to Florida to be closer to Joanne and her grandkids.” I turned to face Grams. Her back was still to me.

  “Shoot! What’s this?” She wiggled the handle for the drawer, huffing. “I can’t open it!”

  “Grams, did you hear me?” I asked.

  “What in the name …” she muttered, ignoring the news—and me, still tugging.

  “What do you need?” I rushed to her, eager to make amends after the ER incident. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “What I need is to know how come I can’t open my own drawers in my own dang house to get a spoon out for my tea!” She spun on her heel to face me, waving her hand in the drawer’s direction. “Is this a part of your scheme, Courtney? To convince people that I have Lord knows what diseases? That I can’t even open a drawer? You wanna put me in a mental institute? Is that it?”

  This time, I didn’t feel like playing her dead daughter anymore. It hurt too much.

  “Grams, it’s not Courtney. It’s me, Gracie-Mae, and I don’t want to put you in a mental institution.”

  “You want me to die there so you can take all my money and my house. So you can get high without anyone interruptin’ you. I see right through you, young lady. All you ever cared about were those boys and the drugs.”

  “I just want you to get better,” I gritted out. I was getting tired of this tango.

  “Yeah, by diagnosing me with somethin’ I don’t have and putting me on a whole lotta drugs. Not everybody wants to be sedated. Just because you like drugs, doesn’t mean they’re for me.”

  “Grams.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s Grace.”

  She pushed me. Hard. I stumbled across the kitchen, my back hitting the wall. A picture of my mother and me—the only one we had in this house of both of us—fell to the floor, the glass breaking.

  It stung more than it hurt.

  The humiliation.

  The anger.

  My helplessness in this situation.

  I put my broken flame ring to my lips and whispered my wishes as Marla shot up from her seat, advancing toward my grandmother.

  “Savannah!” The sharpness in her tone made the tiny hair on my arms stand on end. “Do you not recognize your granddaughter?”

  Grams snapped her head toward Marla, her scowl melting into a sweet smile.

  “What? Don’t be silly. I know exactly who she is.”

  “You said Courtney,” Marla countered.

  “Quiet!” Grams raised her voice. “Stop challengin’ my every step, both of you.”

  Marla walked over to me. “Go to school, honey pie. I’ll be putting in some extra hours today. I promised your grandma I’d help rearrange her closet. All right?”

  I stared at Grams but nodded.

  I grabbed my backpack, keys, and wallet and dashed out. I waited until I was in my car before I let the first tear fall.

  I thought about A Streetcar Named Desire.

  Of Blanche’s biting loneliness that seeped so deep she didn’t even know what she was lonely for anymore. Blanche—like Grams—sat at home all day, her demons often her only companion.

  I thought about the cruelty in giving someone freedom they didn’t know what to do with.

  Grandma Savvy always used to say, if you’re not scared, you’re not brave.

  Right now, I was one out of the two, but for her, I needed to be both.

  I sat at the back row of the theater, watching as Tess and Lauren butchered the roles of Stella and Blanche, respectively, during rehearsal.

  Tess wasn’t bad, but she kept overacting to compensate for her loss to Lauren for Blanche’s role.

  She also complained about it, often.

  “Blanche has so much more meat! Stella is meek and timid.”

  “Grow up, Tess. Learn how to be graceful in defeat.” Lauren snorted.

  “I never lose,” Tess replied, her tone taking an edge I’d never heard before.

  Lauren tossed her hair and smiled at her serenely. “That so? Then how come you’re not on West. St. Claire’s arm right about now?”

  Aiden, who played Stanley, wasn’t exceptionally bad either, but he needed to tone down his frowning and glaring. He looked so constipated I worried people would throw Pepto-Bismol onstage instead of flowers at the end of the show.

  About halfway through rehearsal, someone slid into the seat next to me. Peculiar, seeing as all the other seats were empty. Even though I didn’t turn to look at him, I knew exactly who it was. It frightened me that I recognized him so quickly.

  His scent of winter, candy apple, and alpha male. Wild and unique.

  I balanced my feet on the back of the seat in front of me, trying to refocus on the actors onstage. I was still mad at West. Mainly because he’d screwed someone else last Friday while mumbling my nickname. But the official reason was him embarrassing me to no end by making a big stink out of how Reign had treated me. I’d sailed through college ignoring the odd taunt. Reign De La Salle was one of many idiots I’d learned to overlook. West had redirected the limelight to my face again, and now everybody was talking about me—my story, my face, my hopeless future.

  It was like high school all over again.

  West draped his muscular arm over my headrest. His body language was indifferent, dripping confidence; he took something out of his front pocket—a small planner—and dropped it in my lap.

  “Circle the date.”

  I ignored him, still glaring at the stage.

  “When you’re letting me out of the doghouse,” he explained.

  I pressed my lips together, resisting a faint smile, pouring metaphorical lava over the butterflies swirling in my stomach, taking flight upwards to my chest.

  They were exactly the reason keeping my distance from him was a good idea.

  The man had heartbreak written all over him.

  “No can do. This planner doesn’t go beyond mid-next year,” I drawled, my eyes still trained on the stage. I didn’t need to look to know planners didn’t go beyond twelve months. Tess threw her head back during a scene, trying to steal Lauren’s limelight.

  The scene was cut due to the fact Lauren stumbled all over her lines.

  “Dang it! She threw me off focus.” Lauren stomped, choking the manuscript in her hand.

  Tess parked her fists on her waist, puffing her cheeks.

  “Nothing should throw you off when you’re in the zone. I’m a method actor, Lauren. Untouchable once I get into character. I’ve been telling Professor McGraw for weeks that I should be Blanche. I was born for the role.”

  Secure in her stance she’d been robbed out of the role while Lauren tried to memorize her next few sentences, Tess’ feline eyes began to wander the rows. They stopped and widened, a glint of excitement zinging through them when she noticed us. She gave us a wave.

  “West! Grace! Howdy!”

  I waved back. West jerked his chin forward, a barely noticeable hello, and cut his gaze back to me.

  “What about probation?” he asked. “It’s my first offense.”

  I shook my head. “Third. You’ve been gettin’ on my nerves since day one.”

  “Damn you, woman, you think working with you is a picnic?” He bristled.

  “I’m sure it’s not, but I don’t butt into your business and draw unwelcome attention to you,” I pointed out.

  “What am I charged with here exactly?” He rearranged his mammoth frame in his seat, his whole body angled toward mine now.

  “You made a big stink out of what De La Salle said, and now I’m this pathetic emo kid who is at your mercy. You made me look helpless. Weak. A charity case.” I turned my head, meeting his eyes.

  The twinge in my chest became a full-on pull.

  “So, you’re mad at me for sticking up for you?” His eyebrows pinched together.

  “I can fight my own wars.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve never once shown up for battle.”

/>   “That’s none of your business.”

  “You are my business.” He examined me, greatly enjoying the way my entire face turned pink under my makeup.

  “I figured I am. I just wonder why that is. Did you need a pet project? I thought you had plenty on your plate already.”

  “Because you’re my friend.” His eyes narrowed into two slits of grim resolution. That was it. I was his friend, and I didn’t have a say in this. “When someone disrespects my friends, they disrespect me. And nobody disrespects me. We clear about that?”

  I turned my head to the stage, but only because I didn’t trust myself not to launch at him with a hug. I’d never had anyone burst into my life, kicking the door down on their way in, and stick around after realizing how truly broken I was.

  West was the first person to insist on being my friend, whether I was interested or not. It was unchartered territory for me. My instincts told me to push him away before he did the dumping, but every single cell in my body screamed to let him in.

  He threw his arms in the air, exasperated. “Fine. You want me to back off? You got it. Either way, the asshole won’t bother you anymore, so there’s that.”

  “Woo-hoo. Thanks, Captain St. Claire.” I fist-pumped the air mockingly. Now I had West’s word he wasn’t going to butt into my life. But I still wasn’t placated. If anything, after the initial exhilaration of West seeking me out publicly at the auditorium, I was even angrier than before.

  I knew exactly why—Melanie—but I couldn’t tell him that.

  “You realize you’re being a bitch, right? You can’t not-know that.”

  I knew I was being impossible, and it killed me that I couldn’t stop. My shiny red self-destruction button was switched on, and I wanted to hit the bastard again and again with my fist, until there was nothing left of our friendship, so I could go back to being alone and invisible and safe in my bubble of nothingness.

  His phone danced in his hand. He killed the call before I could see the name on the screen.

  Melanie asking for a second round? Did you tell her you’re a one-night kind of guy?

  “What is this really about, Texas?” He raked his eyes over my face.

  Cruz Finlay, the play’s director, looked up from beside the stage and waved the script in our direction. “Excuse me, do you mind? You’re distracting my actors.”

  “Your actors are distractin’ us,” I muttered under my breath. West snorted next to me.

  “Grace. West!” Tess gestured at us again. “What’s happening? Are y’all here for me?”

  Tess was great, but she had the tendency to think the world revolved around her. Guess it grated on my nerves so much because I used to be exactly like her.

  My stomach twisted into knots. If I chose to get flustered every time West received female attention, I’d go through a mental breakdown three times a day.

  West stood up, jerking my arm, forcing me to my feet.

  “Here for Texas. Now that I got her, I’ll get outta your hair.”

  He saluted a shocked Tess and dragged me out the doors like a caveman. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I refrained from smacking his hand away. Once we were out of the auditorium, he pinned me against the wall, boxing me with his arms on each side of my body. His phone beeped again. He ignored it, angling his face down so his lips were dangerously close to mine.

  The earthy, male scent of him seeped into my system. My heart beat so wildly I almost threw up.

  “Let’s try this again. Why are you mad at me, Texas? Don’t give me the Reign excuse. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “People are goin’ to talk, now that you came to the auditorium and called me Texas in front of everyone. Hope you’re happy.”

  He shrugged, unfazed. “The amount of fucks I give equals the amount of shit I give. Which is zero, in case you’re wondering. Don’t change the subject.”

  “You don’t care if people think you are hookin’ up below your league?” I taunted.

  “I don’t care if people think I’m hooking up with livestock. And you’re not below my league. Now, I’m going to ask you this a third and last time—why are you mad? Answer carefully. There won’t be a fourth chance. I’ll flip you upside down and shake the answer out of you.”

  “You wouldn’t.” I scoffed.

  His eyebrows shot up, a mischievous sneer curling over his lips.

  Crap, he totally would. I deflated. “I’m not mad at you. I just want you to stop actin’ like I’m a charity case. I’ve been doin’ fine on my own, and I don’t want the attention you bring to me.”

  He scanned me, looking for cracks in my façade.

  Finally, he relented, pushing back from the wall. I felt the loss of him everywhere.

  “If I stop bringing attention to your ass, are you going to go back to being relatively sane?”

  “I am sane.”

  “Debatable.”

  “Tell me one thing that’s insane about me.”

  “You wear hoodies when it’s a hundred and twelve degrees out, you’re nurturing an unhealthy obsession with the nineties, you think you’re unattractive, you br—”

  “Okay. Fine, I get it. I said one.”

  He tucked a candy stick between his straight teeth, smiling like the Devil.

  “I’m a competitive bastard. Once I start, it’s hard to stop. Truce?” He offered me his pinky.

  All I could think about was him kissing Melanie roughly as he’d unbuttoned her jeans, my nickname falling from his lips. My own lips stung, but I curled my pinky in his, almost laughing at how large his finger was against mine. It was the second time we’d done that. I liked that we had a thing.

  “Ready to bail?” He nudged me.

  “Bail where?”

  “Austin. I just got a text from Karlie that the truck broke down and we don’t have a shift. My schedule’s wide open.”

  I frowned and checked my phone. Sure enough, I had the same text. Still, spending time with West outside work? That would be a big fat no with never-and-ever on top.

  “No can do. I have rehearsals back-to-back.”

  “I don’t know how to break it to you, but nothing is going to salvage this play. It’s the worst thing to happen to Texas since the Jonas Brothers.” West made an adorable face, a cross between genuinely sorry and sarcastic.

  “Don’t you dare hate on the Jonas Brothers. They’re a national treasure.” I wagged my finger at him, a giggle bubbling from my throat.

  “That’s a plot twist.” He snatched my finger, tugging me toward him. “I pegged you for a My Bloody Valentine type of girl.”

  “I do know bands that were formed after the nineties,” I protested.

  “Prove it. But before that, let’s hit the road.”

  With everything going on, it would be nice to unwind and take the day off. Besides, I’d already decided I wasn’t going to fall in love with West St. Claire, and I’d been massively successful in not remotely liking guys before him.

  What was the harm in one short trip to the city?

  “You’re twistin’ my arm here.” I sighed.

  “I’ve been known for helping women discover their flexibility.”

  I scrunched my nose and shoved him away, savoring the hardness of his chest against my palm.

  “Gross. I’ll bring my backpack.”

  “Nuh-uh. I don’t trust you to come back, and Cruz Finlay is one distraction away from a stroke. I’ll fetch it.”

  He marched into the auditorium, returning with my backpack. He hoisted it over his shoulder as he flipped his keyring around his finger. I bounced on the balls of my feet, catching his long stride.

  “Skipping. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you are the h-word.” He grinned.

  “High?” I asked, still skipping to my displeasure.

  Just stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.

  He laughed, slanting his gaze sideways, watching me. “No, doofus. Happy.”

  “I ain’t happy.”

  “The s
hit-eating grin on your face begs to differ.” He flicked my chin.

  “You’re rude.”

  “You’re glowing.”

  I threw my hair over my shoulder, feeling unexpectedly pretty. My heart swelled, like it was soaked in water, and my whole body tingled.

  “Fuuuuuck,” he drawled. “The sheer joy. Who even are you? Have I been catfished?” He stopped, picking me up from the floor and turning me sideways. He frowned, pretending to read something on my back. Instructions or a manual. He whistled. I kicked the air until he let me down, my giggles rolling out of my mouth uncontrollably.

  We were doing a lot of touching—more touching than I’d done in the last four years, in fact—and the butterflies in my stomach were swirling and cartwheeling nonstop.

  “Yup. You’re the real Texas. I got the 2.0 version. Are you water-resistant?”

  “Not at this time.”

  “Shame. I bet you’re a sight in a two-piece.”

  “You’re about to be cut into twenty pieces if you keep it up.”

  I felt like I was my old self again, and I didn’t know why, but I thought he felt the same about himself, too.

  That for some reason, we brought out in each other the previous people that we were and missed terribly.

  We stopped by his Ducati. He took out two helmets, shoving one into my hands. This time, I turned around, ditched my ball cap, and put it on dutifully.

  “Two helmets?” I turned back to face him when my helmet was on.

  He shrugged. “Knew I was going to thaw your frigid ass.”

  “Are you always so confident?”

  “Every second of the day.” He spat out the apple candy in his mouth, putting his helmet on. “Are you always so nosy?”

  “When I’m interested in something enough to explore it.” I raised one shoulder. “While we’re on the subject of my being nosy—what’s with the apple candy? A bit dated, ain’t it?”

  “Not for me. Don’t you have something that’s nostalgic to you? A piece of your history that’s close to your heart?”

  Without meaning to, I brushed my fingers over my flame ring, feeling my throat working.

  “I do, actually. This flame ring”—I lifted my hand—“belonged to my mom.”