“I have to concentrate.” He touched his head to the cool metal locker, hoping for some relief. “I have to focus.”
Mitch yanked him away from his locker and ushered him down the hall. “No, what you need is some hitting, yelling, running, and guy time. And there’s only one place to get it—on the football field.”
The corners of Beau’s mouth lifted into an evil grin.
If only they knew.
* * *
Slumped against the hood of her car, her toes warmed by streaks of sunlight heating up the blacktop, Dawn scrutinized the students walking on the grassy quad or passing her in the parking lot. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
This sucks.
The funny looks, curious glances, and ever-present murmur of others had followed her all week. She knew what they were gossiping about. Since the first day she had caught Beau at the cafeteria entrance with Sara, she’d avoided him in the halls, after school, and even skipped cheerleading practice so she didn’t have to see him at the football field. Staying away from him was popularity suicide, but she didn’t care about what people thought anymore.
Gawd! When did I turn into Leslie?
A shadow suddenly appeared. It stretched across the blacktop and stopped in front of her, blocking the sun from her tennis shoes. She raised her head and discovered her sister standing a few feet away, her book bag slung over her shoulder.
Dawn looked behind Leslie, wondering where her other half had disappeared to. “Where’s Derek?”
Leslie retrieved her keys from her bag. “He drove his mom’s truck today.” She arched an eyebrow at her. “I thought you were staying for cheerleading practice before the game?”
“Nope.” Dawn picked up her bag from the ground, cringing at the mention of the game. “I told the squad to be back in time for the game. We don’t need any more practice.”
Leslie went up to her, a skeptical gleam in her eyes. “Where did that come from? You’re always so anal about your squad being perfect.”
“Lately, I don’t feel like doing things so much. Like cheerleading. I wish I didn’t have to cheer tonight.”
Leslie folded her arms and directed a wicked stare at her, making Dawn uncomfortable. “It’s like you’ve been living under a rock for the past week. You hide in your room at home, your friends keep asking me where you are at school, and everyone is talking about you and Beau breaking up. On top of that, you aren’t wearing your cheerleading uniform on a game day—you used to love wearing it. You used to be so determined to be the most popular girl in school. What’s going on with you?”
Dawn searched the groups of kids around her, laughing and enjoying the late afternoon sun. She yearned to be one of them, without a care in the world, but her heart was too heavy.
“I don’t want to be around people and listen to all their questions about me and Beau. I don’t have the answers. All I know is I don’t want to talk to him. I can’t trust him anymore.”
Leslie hit the remote and opened the car doors. “Not wanting to speak to Beau, I can understand, but your friends and cheerleading … I thought you loved cheerleading.”
Dawn hugged her book bag like a shield of armor. “I loved the attention it got me. Particularly, Beau’s attention. It was the big reason I joined. I didn’t think he would notice me until I was somebody. I was so desperate for attention I slept with him that night at the river, no matter how bad it made me feel. I wanted Beau, and I thought life would be perfect with him. But it wasn’t.”
The weight of her confession didn’t make her feel any better. Wasn’t it supposed to be good for the soul or something? What a crock.
She yanked open the passenger door, angry with how stupid she’d been. “I guess I just realized the whole time I was with Beau, I was still the same desperate girl on the inside, trying to please everyone else but me. I’m not strong like you, Leelee. Maybe that’s why Beau appealed to me so much. He could be strong for me.” Her lower lip trembled, but she tried to hide her pain by stuffing her books into the back seat. “People around here may think Beau is some kind of golden boy, but I’m seeing him as he really is.” She hesitated next to the car. “When I look at you and Derek, I realize how meaningless my relationship was.”
Leslie came around the car to her side, her slight smile encouraging. “Sounds to me like you’re growing up. I’m glad, but maybe take some time and discover who you are and what you want before you get involved with someone new. And keep cheering. You’re good at it, and I think you might find you enjoy it.”
“Then what?” Dawn shook her head as the riptide of all her future choices pulled her under. “I’ve been asking myself what I will do without cheering, Beau, my friends, or St. Benedict High. It’s all kind of overwhelming.”
Leslie stowed her bag in the back seat. “Yeah, we don’t have much time left here.” She rested her arm on the open passenger side door. “I’ve been thinking about next year at college. If I go to LSU and you go there, maybe we could room together for a semester or two. Might help us both adjust to all the big changes coming into our lives if we have each other.”
Leslie was right. The future wouldn’t be so scary if they could face it together. Six months ago, she would never have dreamed of rooming with her sister at college. Now, Dawn wanted nothing but.
“You’re on.” Dawn swiped the car keys from Leslie. “I’ll drive.”
Leslie grabbed for her keys but missed. “You hate to drive.”
“No, I just let you drive because it’s easier.” She went to the driver’s side door, her mood brightening. “I need to start doing things for myself. Don’t you agree?”
“Glad to hear it.” Leslie settled into the front passenger seat.
Dawn started the engine, eager to begin a new chapter in her life. She adjusted her rearview mirror and caught sight of a hulking red football jersey with a cougar in the center rushing up to the car.
“Oh no.”
Beau stood behind the car, his hands on the trunk.
“We need to talk, Dawn.”
She didn’t want to talk. Dawn feared if she did listen to him, she might get sucked back into his lies. Beau Devereaux was a drug; one she had to avoid at all costs.
While the car was still in park, Dawn hit the gas and gunned the engine.
“Dawn, you can’t run him over.” Leslie grabbed her seatbelt.
She nodded to the rearview mirror, a zing of satisfaction egging her on. “No, but I can scare him a little.”
Leslie spun around in her seat. “Just go. Don’t confront the jerk.”
Dawn put the car in reverse, backed up a few inches to clear the parking curb, and then put it in drive, making a hard turn to the left, avoiding coming in contact with Beau still waiting behind them.
Once she had a clear shot ahead, she hit the gas, a newfound sense of freedom coming alive as a stunned Beau was left behind.
He took off after them. Dawn drove through the parking lot, and he banged on the trunk, demanding her attention.
“Come on!”
He jogged behind them and motioned for them to stop, but Dawn kept going.
Leslie seemed to enjoy watching him struggle to keep up with the car gaining speed. She laughed and opened her window. “Better luck at the game, asshole!”
His figure grew smaller, but the fury in his face was unmistakable. A shiver ran through Dawn. She had pushed Beau too far, and he would seek his vengeance. Dawn had come to know his well-hidden bad side over the past few months, and she feared what he would do.
“You shouldn’t have taunted him like that.” Dawn kept a keen eye on the rearview mirror. “Beau has a real cruel streak, and never forgets a slight.”
Leslie brushed off her concern with a smart smirk. “He’s an idiot.”
Dawn didn’t like the apprehension tickling her chest. Beau appeared more like a guy about to lose control, and she needed to make sure none of the people she loved ended up in his line of fire.
Chapter Twen
ty-Four
Beau maneuvered his car into the parking lot next to the St. Benedict football field, his blood pumping in time with the rock song blasting from his speakers. In the metal stands, a good crowd already had their seats, and it was still thirty minutes until kick off. He hungered to find his scout before ducking into the locker room but figured he would get a good idea of who it was when he was on the field leading his team to victory.
Could this night get any more perfect?
He felt on top of the world, higher than he’d ever known—even better than his times with Taylor and Kelly. After grabbing a duffel bag filled with a change of clothes for the river party after, he strutted toward the gym, anxious to get to the game.
He was halfway across the lot when he noticed someone staring at him from the side of the stands. Taylor. Her baggy clothes seemed to hang off her. She’d lost weight. He could tell by her protruding cheekbones and the shriveled appearance of her neck. The hate in her eyes was still there. It was the only attractive quality she had left.
“What have you been doing to yourself, girl?” He yelled, swinging his bag in his hand. “You look like shit.”
She never said a word but continued glaring.
He figured he was the reason for the change in her.
If she can’t handle the rough stuff, she shouldn’t have asked for it.
“Where’s your cheerleading outfit?” he asked, getting in the last dig. “Or does it not fit anymore?”
He chuckled, proud of himself. He was almost to the gym doors when her high voice followed him.
“Ready for the night of your life, Beau?”
He stopped, not happy she had used his words. He glanced around to see if anyone had heard her.
“What’s your problem?” He rushed up to her.
She backed away, stepping into the shadows of the stands, her face lost in the darkness.
He longed to follow her. The movement of the crowds above would make enough noise to cover her whimpering as he slapped her around a little, just to show her who was boss.
“Keep your mouth shut.”
He turned to retreat to the gym doors, but she came back for more.
“Do you feel like a man, Mr. Hotshot Quarterback?”
She had come out of the shade and hugged one of the metal supports below the bleachers. Her diminutive demeanor and darting eyes were nothing like the brazen whore he’d taken to the cells.
He licked his lips, longing for another night with her.
“You’re one psycho bitch, Taylor.”
She inched closer, her head twisted on her stick of a neck as she gave him a deadpan stare.
Her bloodshot eyes sickened him and when she raised her upper lip, baring her teeth in a doglike snarl, he took a wary step back.
“Did you enjoy yourself in the cells the other night? You might want to be careful, next time. You never know who’s watching.”
Before he could ask her what she meant she walked away, heading toward Dawn and the rest of the cheerleading squad gathered in front of the stands.
That little slut!
She must have been spying on him. He thought he heard someone that night with Andrea. Had she seen what he’d done? But Andrea had wanted it, had asked for it, so he could never be accused of doing anything wrong.
What if she had seen Kelly …?
He ran his hand through his hair.
Think, Devereaux, think. What does the bitch have on you?
Beads of sweat gathered on his upper lip. He didn’t need this right now. Not with the scout coming. He talked himself down, picturing how he would strangle the crap out of Taylor once he got her alone. He had a show to put on for the scout. Once Tulane was secured, he would beat what she knew out of her.
His fingers going numb as he gripped his duffel bag, he hurried to the gym entrance.
Before he stepped inside, a shadow crossed before the door. He turned, expecting another member of the team, and inhaled sharply when Kelly Norton slid in next to him.
In a granny dress buttoned up to her throat, she was no longer the seductive girl at the river. Her red hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. She had on no makeup, and her pasty skin repelled him.
What had he seen in her? “Why are you here?”
She parted her pink lips, her stormy eyes on him. “I came to cheer on my team. Heard you got a scout coming to the game.” She winked. “Night of your life, eh, Beau?”
His heart rate sped as anger bloomed in his chest. She was in league with Taylor. The two bitches had talked.
Shit!
A trickle of sweat rolled down his back.
She pouted her lips. “What’s wrong, Devereaux?”
He got in her face, eager to remind her of their night together. “Don’t fuck with me.”
He was anxious to see the fear in her eyes. But there wasn’t any.
Instead, she gave him a cocky grin and walked away.
Beau staggered into the locker room, hyperventilating. He gripped the wall just inside the door, struggling to calm down.
They were out to ruin his big night? He imagined their blood dripping off his hands. He would show them.
His head held high, he went to his locker, greeting a few members of his team with high fives and encouraging shouts.
He dumped his duffel bag on the bench in front of his locker. His hands trembled when he reached for the zipper.
Pull it together. Self-control in all things.
* * *
Cleats nervously tapped on the cement floor, and an excited chatter floated in the stale air of the locker room. The clatter of safety equipment and the occasional bang of a locker all came together to unravel Beau’s nerves.
Not even out on the field and he couldn’t concentrate. His shoulder pads weighed a ton, his jersey itched, even his shoes weren’t laced right. He was off, and he knew why.
“Are you ready to roll over Covington High?”
A thunderous war cry rose echoed throughout the locker room.
Beau ignored his coach. Taylor and Kelly consumed his thoughts. Had they talked to anyone else? Dawn? Leslie?
I’m gonna kill them if they blabbed to Leslie!
Or perhaps they wanted money. To blackmail him. Or worse, blackmail his old man.
“What’s wrong?” Mitch waved his hand in front of his face. “This is the day you’ve been waitin’ for, so snap out of it. Are you with me?”
Beau slapped his shoulder pads, pushing his worry away. “Hell, yeah.”
Coach Brewer walked past Beau and went to open the gym doors to the field. “Let’s go get ’em, boys!”
A whoosh of red jerseys rushed past. The coil of knots in his stomach stayed with him while he dashed out the doors and into the cool night air. Beau breathed in and out fast to right himself. It didn’t work.
The glare of the lights on the field blinded him. Every game, it was the same. The blaring lights, and then the sweet aroma of the grass. It reminded him of Leslie. It had her same enticing essence.
The last thing to register was the crowd. Their roar was almost like that of a jet engine coming into land. He couldn’t distinguish specific voices in the rush of sound, but he could hear all of them at once, calling for him to score.
Coach Brewer pulled Beau to the rear of the pack, kicking up some of the chalk marking the outline of the field.
“Don’t be a hero, Beau. And don’t do anything you think will impress that scout. Just stick to the plan and play like this is any other game.” Coach Brewer slapped his shoulder pad. “These guys don’t want show-offs; they want players.”
He jogged in place, warming up his legs.
“Yes, sir. I got it.”
Beau checked the clear sky, wishing away any rain, and then ran out onto the field, his legs two heavy anvils, sluggish and slow. His heart thudded and a strange ringing rose in his ears. He pushed the encounters with the girls from his mind, forcing images of touchdowns, perfect spiral throws and the cheer of his t
eammates into his head.
They won’t talk to anyone. They have too much to lose.
He glanced at the home team’s stands. Taylor and Kelly had their heads together right next to Dawn’s line of cheerleaders, leading the crowd in a chant for victory.
This was too close for comfort.
A whistle’s screech sounded. St. Benedict won the coin toss, so they opted to receive the ball.
On the field, for their first play after the kickoff, Beau fought to focus, but pictures of Taylor and Kelly kept popping into his head.
Set up on the twenty-two-yard line, Beau counted off the snap. He pulled back, saw Mitch down the field and threw the ball. The perfect spiral sailed over Mitch’s head, and the referee blew the whistle on an incomplete pass.
“What the hell, dude?” Mitch complained when they were back in the huddle.
Beau’s indignation flared. How dare he question him?
“You need to show a little more hustle to get the ball,” Beau griped.
On the second play, Beau called for the snap and pulled back from the line, his mind a scattered mess with images of the river and Taylor. He made a sloppy handoff to his running back, David Acker, who fumbled the ball.
Beau cringed, knowing he’d screwed up.
Luckily, David fell on the ball and recovered it.
Back in the scrimmage, he had to cover his mistake. No point in letting his guys know he was frazzled.
“Nice move, David.” Beau hit the guy hard in his shoulder pads, venting his frustration. “Get it together, will ya?”
“You get it together, Devereaux.” David poked him hard in the chest. “You blew that pass.”
Like a serpent rising to the music of a snake charmer’s flute, his anger slithered through his limbs, clenching his muscles. He would show them who was the king on this field.
On the third play of the first drive, Beau shouted for the snap. He stepped out of the pocket and scanned his men scattered on the field. Mitch waved his arms, jumping in place to show he was open deep in the end zone. Perfect! His confidence surged. Beau cocked his arm back, lining up his throw, and then everything turned to shit.
Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1) Page 21