Lennon's Jinx (Lennon's Girls #1)

by Chris Myers

  I spent most of the morning holding Rena while she cried over Byron, even though my head feels like it’s going to implode. She got him good, or rather, Lennon did, and yet she still wants Byron back. I can’t lecture her because I’d scoop on Zach in a heartbeat.

  Last night, Zach asked to take me home. I think. What’s up with that? Where was Kelly? I think about what might have happened if I’d gone home with him. Nothing. I would’ve puked all over him. Glad he didn’t see that.

  Zach won’t get back with me because I can’t tell him the truth. I’m not that strong. The best I can do is be there for Rena to help her over the speed bumps in life, like she has always done for me.

  Lennon keeps his eyes on the road with only an occasional glance to check on the girls. The sad part is I should thank him. I just can’t seem to say those words. He saved me from being raped for the second time in my life, but the first was my fault. I am such a fool. It’s probably good that I can’t remember much about it.

  My body folds into the seat. I snooze until Currie takes a piece of thread and tickles my nose with it. They’re all laughing at me. I’m so glad I don’t have a little sister or brother or any siblings. If I ignore Step-monster, which most of the time I do, it’s peaceful in my house, and that’s the way I like it.

  Lennon valet parks his SUV at a garage downtown just north of the Water Tower. I wonder what it’s like to have enough money to afford parking in Chicago.

  “What’s here?” My eyelids lift to half-mast. The gray day is too much for my sore eyes right now.

  “Lunch for me ladies.” The girls laugh at his attempt at an English accent. I don’t. It’ll hurt too much.

  Lennon hands me a pair of Ray-Bans that probably cost him a small fortune. “Here. These should help.”

  I put them on. My Wal-Mart shades are at home. “Thanks.”

  The girls take their dolls out of the car with them. They’re dressed like runway models for kids wear. It’s kind of cute.

  When Lennon gets out, he holds both girls’ hands while I drag behind. The dark shades help me avoid the few rays of sunshine filtering through the cloudy sky. They’re like tiny daggers lancing into my mushy brain. Lennon opens the door to a store called American Girl Place. What’s this? I think as I step inside.

  Just peachy. It’s doll mania. Floors filled with historically dressed fetishes. It’s scary. When I bump into Lennon, he keeps me from taking a nosedive.

  Why is he so nice to me? It’s got to be the girls. He has to keep up appearances. I keep the glasses on so the It’s a Small World ride doesn’t blow my mind away.

  The dolls’ dead eyes follow me everywhere. I close my eyes and feel my skull pounding into my bed’s headboard. The memory of blood and semen staining my sheets the next day floods my mind. Panic rises in my chest, tightening it so that it’s hard to breathe.

  “Are you okay?” Lennon asks.

  I don’t speak but barrel toward the bathroom. Inside, I rush to a stall and close the door. Sitting on the toilet, I take in deep breaths. I tightly squeeze my eyes shut to block out the flashes of scary-bad memories.

  The bathroom door squeaks open and then closes. “Are you going to live?” Concern fills Lennon’s deep voice. It softens my heart toward him. He didn’t have to rescue me last night, but I’m glad he did.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” I say in a whoosh of air.

  He laughs. “You’re in the men’s room.”

  “Oh shit,” I say, getting up. “Is anyone in here besides you?”

  “Nope. Most guys don’t shop here.”

  “Understandable.” After several more calming breaths, I come out, go straight to the sink, and splash cold water onto my face.

  “You gonna live?”

  “I don’t think I can handle all the dolls.”

  His lips form a tight screw. “The girls will be disappointed if we don’t eat lunch here. You have pediophobia?”

  “What?”

  Lennon folds his arms across his chest and leans against the tiled wall. “The fear of dolls. It’s actually quite common.”

  “They just freak me out. I’ll be…okay,” I sputter. “I’m not sure how, but I’ll manage.” Maybe if I’m blindfolded that’ll help. I put on the Ray bans and walk out.

  The girls didn’t see me escape, which is all good. They run from one display to the next.

  Zoe points to some doll that reminds me of Hawaii, not that I’ve ever been. I avert my gaze to Lennon’s hulk, so he can block out most of the view.

  Zoe picks up the doll and holds it tight against her chest. “Oh my gosh, this is new.”

  Thankfully, the doll isn’t looking at me. It’s going to be a long day. I’m being punished for all the evil I’ve ever done, like the time I let the air out of Step-monster’s tires.

  “What can we get?” Currie tugs on the sleeve of Lennon’s high-end leather jacket. I only know this because when I almost fell and brushed against it, the cowhide was unbelievably soft.

  “One outfit,” he says, taking a seat.

  I sit by him and close my eyes since that’s the safest position for me right now. I need a prop to hold me upright, and he doesn’t seem to mind. He also didn’t try anything last night when he had the chance.

  Zoe grins big. “Matching outfits for us and the dolls?”

  “Sure.” Lennon makes me lean my head against his arm. “Feeling any better?”

  “Not really. There’s a telephone ringing in my head, and it won’t stop.” At least, the pain keeps my head from thinking about the dolls.

  Lennon chuckles. “We’ll eat soon. That’ll make you feel a little better. Rohypnol is a powerful muscle relaxant. You’re lucky to be alive. Some people have really bad reactions to the drug, especially a little girl like you.”

  I hate being reminded of how petite I am. “When I grow up, I’m going to be tall.”

  Lennon lets out a pleasant laugh that doesn’t hurt my head. “I don’t think that’s in the cards for you.”

  He’s right. “I know I should thank you.”

  “That would be a start. Didn’t you like the flowers I gave you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Actually, I liked them a lot. The other girls are still talking about them, gawking at me like I hit the lottery. They don’t really know Lennon, not that I do.

  “You probably wished they came from Zach.”

  How does he know? I’m giving him too much credit. Half the school knows about me dating Zach forever then mysteriously breaking up. I let my eyes half open to glance up at Lennon as his warmth soaks into me. His handsome face smiles while he watches the girls.

  They skitter off, holding hands. I remember those days with my girlfriends. Rena’s mom would take us downtown to Chicago. We always bought Garrett popcorn. It would be great to roll back time, relive those precious moments, and escape the mistakes I’ve made.

  “Ran Holden is a known drug dealer,” Lennon says out of the blue. “He has quite the rap sheet.”

  “Huh?” Somehow, I lost a moment in the time-space continuum. Hangovers are notorious for doing that. “How do you know him?”

  “It’s not like I’m a virgin.”

  “Everybody knows that.”

  He laughs. His teeth are perfect, white, and straight, a small fortune in dental work. “That wasn’t what I was referring to.”

  “You do drugs? Like what?” Lennon always seems pretty sober whenever I’ve seen him at parties.

  “I’ve tried a few things. I don’t touch anything anymore. I was so blottoed once, I forgot to pick up Currie from dance. I haven’t lived that down. That was three years ago.”

  “You were driving back then?” I didn’t get my license until I was almost seventeen.

  “Yeah. Jonathan left us, and Currie takes dance every day and goes to a private school. Her violin instructor comes to the house to make it easier on me. It became my job to get her places.”

  “What about your mom?” I heard from the other kids that th
eir dad had ditched them but left them with a boatload of cash.

  “You’ve obviously never met Heather Tyler. She’s not a responsible person, let alone a good driver.”

  The girls come out pretty soon to model their outfits and the dolls. Currie spins around in a plaid dress and hat. Her doll sports an identical outfit. Zoe twirls in a corduroy jumper, and her doll matches, too. If my head didn’t feel like someone kicked it, I’d think this was actually fun.

  “Beautiful.” Lennon gives them both a crooked grin. “Are you sure that’s what you want, ladies?”

  They both nod eagerly.

  “Can we wear these now?” Currie asks the sales woman attending to them.

  “You certainly may. Let me cut off the tags for you. Is this all Mr. Tyler?”

  The staff knows him by name? Unreal.

  “Yes. We’re having lunch. Could you put it all on one bill?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll wrap up their clothes for them.”

  “Thank you,” Lennon says.

  The girls giggle, take each other’s hand, and dash into the same dressing room.

  After they’ve gathered their matching handbags and parcels, we take the elevator up to the dining area. A hostess delivers us to our seats where the dolls get their own chairs. The tables are decked out with fine linens, fancily folded napkins, and centerpieces. It’s too much.

  I snort out a laugh. Currie gives me a dirty look. I’m lucky Lennon is footing the bill because there’s no way I can afford lunch even though the prices seem reasonable from the menu. I’d feel guilty about him buying lunch, but he’s the one who doesn’t trust my taste in clothes.

  The dolls’ heads face their owners, and that makes me happy.

  “Hot tea?” the waitress asks.

  “Sure,” Lennon says, scooting beside Currie’s doll. When he drapes a napkin on its lap, the girls giggle. “Now, Molly, you have to eat everything on your plate this time.”

  They burst out laughing. Okay, it is cute. My dad used to share cookies with my dolls then he’d gobble them up when I wasn’t looking.

  “Hey,” I say to the waitress, “can I have a diet coke?”

  Currie glares at me as if I ordered someone to be executed. What’s up with that?

  “We don’t drink caffeine,” she says. “It causes cyst growth.”

  “I’ve heard that happens in the breast. I don’t think I have to worry about that. Anything would be an improvement.”

  Lennon spits out his water he’s laughing so hard. Zoe giggles with him.

  Currie crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at me. “It’s not funny.”

  Lennon leans toward me. “Caffeine is a no-no in our house.”

  “I’ve seen you drink—ow.” He pinches my leg under the table. That woke me up.

  Hypocrite. He hides his real double espresso self from Currie.

  The girls order mac-n-cheese, Lennon the fish, and me the mini burger, hot dog, and fries. Currie presses her knuckles against her hips. From her expression, one might think I ran over her kitten. “We don’t eat meat.”

  “That’s nice to know,” I say, “but I do. Who died and made you the dietician Gestapo?”

  She shoots daggers at me with her intense stare while Zoe hides her grin. “Hot dogs are filled with nitrates, and cows are pumped up on hormones. It’ll kill you dead.” Currie’s tone is filled with conviction.

  “I can live with that,” I say, especially right now. The waitress hands me my diet coke. I gulp it down, all the while grinning at Currie. “What about Lennon’s fish? That has mercury.”

  Zoe bursts out laughing. When she sees the hurt spreading across Currie’s face, Zoe says, “I’m sorry. BFF?” She bumps knuckles with Currie.

  “BFF,” Currie says, though from her tone, she’s not feeling it.

  The waitress sets cups and plates in front of the dolls. I restrain myself from fits of giggles. This is so lame, but yet it’s not. The fact that Lennon indulges in all this makes him not so bad.

  Zoe scoots her doll closer to the table and puts the teacup to the doll’s lips. “We should wash up before we eat.”

  This brings a smile to Currie’s lips, probably because she’s a germaphobic.

  When the girls leave to wash their hands, I say, “I’ve seen you eat dead cow before. Murderer.”

  Lennon chuckles. “Yes, I am that. You need to lay off. I don’t want to give up seafood, too. I love lobster.”

  He may actually be human. I dig into my burger before the girls return and let Lennon sneak a few bites, though I worry he may have Herpes. I’ve never seen him with a cold sore, but one never knows, and his tongue has been in more places than I want to imagine.

  All the while I eat my burger and dogs, Currie gives me the evil eye. I relish every bite, and this seems to irritate her more.

  Lennon pours tea for the dolls. “Cecile, how was your trip to Paris?”

  Zoe pipes in, “Très bien, merci.”

  They chatter in French for a while until Lennon realizes I have no idea what they’re saying. I took a real language, Spanish. The only people that speak French besides the French are Canadians.

  “When are you going to London next?” He spoons imaginary food to Molly.

  “Soon,” Currie says. “I want to go back to the Westminster and the Tower of London.”

  Throughout lunch, Lennon pours tea for the dolls and chats with them. The girls titter in their make-believe world of traveling to Paris and London, though in Currie’s case, her descriptions of the places sound quite vivid. I’m guessing she’s been there. This is a whole other side of Lennon that I wasn’t expecting. What guy does this for his sister and her friend?

  Lennon even pulls out a Nikon and takes pictures of the girls, then he gets the waitress to shoot us all together. I wear his sunglasses to hide the ugly bruise of shame and my bloodshot eyes.

  We finally get to leave the creepy doll store. The girls carry their booty, giggling the few blocks we walk to Oak Street.

  Lennon could be hanging out with the guys or getting into his usual trouble, but instead, he does this because it makes the girls happy. Okay, I probably don’t hate him anymore.

  Our first stop of high-end stores is Loro Piana. Cashmere, worsted fabrics, nothing I can afford. Does Lennon think that if he buys me he’ll get some? That gives me an uneasy feeling.

  “What size?” Currie asks Lennon, like he’d know.

  “Zero or children’s sizes.”

  I press my knuckles to my hips. “I’m not a child.”

  Zoe and Currie both eye me up and down and laugh. They’re almost as tall as I am.

  “Yes, you are,” Currie says. “I could probably fit you in my purse like a Chihuahua.”

  Currie shuffles through the rack before we head to the next store and the next and the next. The girls are wearing out. Lennon sometimes carries Zoe and the packages while managing to hold Currie’s hand. I’d heard Zoe was sick from Rena and goes for chemo this weekend. It’s too bad. She’s so young and innocent.

  The farther he carries her, the more I wish it was me. I’m wiped out, too.

  We go through several more stores before stopping at Barney’s. My mouth drops open. Their dresses are in the thousands. “I can’t afford this.”

  Lennon ignores me while chatting up the sales woman.

  She bats her lashes and touches his arm. Jeez, she flirts hard. Money certainly talks. “We have newer styles over here,” she says, pointing to a few displays.

  “Thanks,” he says, his gaze consistently on the girls and not the sales woman. “Currie has it under control.”

  Currie finds several dresses from the sales rack. “Here, try these on. We want to see them.”

  I take the load from her. “A little bossy, aren’t you?”

  “Just do as I say, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  I chuckle at this mini boss lady.

  She lowers her head but not her intense gaze. “Chop. Chop.”

 
A different sales woman shows me to a dressing room. I plop down into the chair and relax for a moment. The food helped my upset stomach and pounding head, but I’m not cured yet. It’s going to take more time and a hot bath.

  I check the tags on the dresses. The prices here are too steep for me. I wonder just how much Currie and Lennon have. From the label, my first dress is a Drace V-neck. It shapes my non-existent figure.

  When I come out, the girls are sitting beside Lennon in a loveseat, drinking hot cider. They yawn and curl up against him while he sips a glass of champagne. He’s too cool for school, yet he’s like Mr. Mom.

  “Turn around,” Lennon says. “That one’s okay.”

  What? He’s some sort of fashion guru, too.

  Currie shakes her head at me. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

  “Am I Zoe?” I ask.

  She nods and gets up with Currie. They both strut up and down in perfect synchronization like pintsize streetwalkers, turning at the precise moment to stop and strike a pose.

  “Sashay and pivot,” Zoe says. “You can do it.”

  “Don’t you watch America’s Next Top Model?” Currie asks.

  “No,” I say. “Why would I? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not five-ten with big feet.”

  Both girls first glance at their feet before rolling their eyes and returning to Lennon.

  “Show us the walk,” Currie demands.

  I sway toward them, swivel with a bit too much hip, feel my lunch burn my throat, and clomp back. “How was that?”

  Currie puts her hand over her face. “Pitiful.”

  Zoe and Lennon chuckle at me.

  I try on a dozen more. Most of them look good on me. I wish I could take them all. When I’m on my last one, Lennon says, “Which two, girls?”

  “The purple A-line will work well with your matching ties and Armani suits,” Zoe says.

  These girls even know fashion speak. I can’t tell Prada from Louis Vuitton. And the band all has to match?

  Currie studies the last dress. “I like this one, too. The Philip Lin rose-colored faux wrap.”

  “My choices as well, ladies.” Lennon looks at me. “I’ll pay for one of them to replace your top.”

  I’d almost forgotten about that. “Thanks.”