The Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club

by J. C. Isabella

  “Like mating season.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Our parents are going to be screwing each other silly.”

  “Stop!” I covered my ears.

  “Prude.”

  “Pervert.”

  “Hey, break time.” He said with false cheer, changed lanes, and took an exit ramp.

  Kirk was so happy when I opened my door he leapt from the van with a howl, rolling around in the dirt next to me. We hadn’t been on the road long, but he was the only dog I ever met who hated car rides. Maybe it had something to do with his tummy problems. Maybe he got carsick. Or maybe my dog is freak.

  Zack lobbed an empty water bottle into a garbage can. Perfect aim. “I’m going to find the bathrooms, don’t drive off without me.”

  “You’ve got the keys, remember?” But it did sound like a good idea.

  “Lucky me.”

  I walked Kirk a few yards away, not bothering to watch Zack strut to the restrooms.

  Okay, admission time…I wasn’t like the girls in the Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club on the outside. On the inside it was another story…one I tried my damndest to suppress.

  My heart did race. Sometimes I walked by the baseball field to see him pitch during practice. Sometimes I sat in the stands pretending to do my homework. But I liked to think I had better control of my crazy hormones. Was skilled enough to act completely indifferent toward him. To hate him.

  I really hate him.

  Hate him so much it hurts.

  You had to have a pretty convincing smile, and be great at faking approval when your father introduces you to his new love—a six-foot blonde named Helga with boobs the size of beach balls. So acting like I could give a darn about Zack had been a breeze, especially because he doesn’t like me.

  How do you shift careers from sausage maker to model anyway?

  Unless Helga modeled with the sausages for advertisement…eww.

  I put that disgusting picture out of my head and stopped walking so Kirk could do his business, squatting like a girl.

  “You pee like a sissy.” I said, looking up at the crisp blue sky to give him privacy. I’d want privacy if I were a dog. He barked, tugging on the leash, all done. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. For all I know, you could be gay…. I’m talking to a dog.”

  He barked again.

  “No, that’s not normal.”

  I turned back for the van and found a man standing a few feet behind me. He was older, maybe in his sixties, smiling at me. One of his top front teeth was missing.

  Kirk wasn’t what you’d call observant. He didn’t notice. Instead he tried to track a squirrel up a tree. Fortunately, dogs can’t climb trees. All he could do was stretch up on his hind legs and howl pathetically.

  “Hello,” the man said, eyeing Kirk with interest. “That is a beautiful dog.”

  “Uh, thanks.” I managed a smile.

  “Purebred?”

  I nodded, tightening my hold on Kirk’s leash. He really wanted that squirrel. My feet slid out from under me and I landed on my butt.

  So much for being the pack leader.

  “How much?”

  “What?” It took me a minute to wrap my head around what the man was asking as I stood up, trying keep myself from eating dirt again.

  “For the bloodhound, how much do you want for him?”

  I frowned, being jerked forward by said bloodhound and almost hitting the tree. That was close. I could have ended up missing teeth like the snaggletooth eyeing my dog.

  “He’s not for sale.”

  His black eyebrows lowered. I forced myself to take a good look at the guy. His jeans were dirty, red plaid shirt wrinkled, and his long, greasy black hair pulled tight in a ponytail. He had rough, mean vibe. As if he’d deprive some defenseless teenage girl of her gassy hound. Shit.

  “I’m sure we can reach an agreement.” He locked his steady stare with my blurred one. Kirk was jerking me around, trying to find some way up the tree. “What is a pretty young lady like you, doing out here alone?”

  Gulp, why couldn’t Kirk be a man-eater? “I’m not alone.”

  “Doesn’t look that way to me.”

  “My friend is going to be back any minute, and he loves Kirk. I can’t sell him.” This guy was going to take my answer and leave. Or I would run. I was a good runner when I had to be, and so was Kirk when he wasn’t distracted.

  “I need a dog like that,” he said, rubbing his hands together. His fingernails were black with grime. No way was Kirk going anywhere near him. He looked diseased. Probably wasn’t up-to-date on his shots.

  “So Google some breeders,” I stepped forward and grabbed Kirk by his collar, pulling him off the tree and leading him to a picnic table. Well, more like dragging. The man followed.

  “I’ll give you two hundred.” He said.

  “No.” I wonder if I could make a run for the van…

  “Fine, three.”

  “Baker.” I glanced over my shoulder to see Zack walking down the sidewalk, gaze zeroed in on the unwelcome company. He made his, I’m-going-to-strike-you-out-face, and then looked back at me. “Didn’t Molly teach you not to talk to strangers?”

  “She left out the part about when strangers talk to you.”

  Once he was beside me he placed his hand on my shoulder. The warm weight of it was very reassuring. “Can I help you?”

  The man grinned. “How much you want for that dog?”

  “Kirk’s not for sale.” Zack said.

  He propped his hands on his hips. “You serious?”

  “As a heart attack.” The finality in Zack’s voice was unmistakable. He looked down at me. “Go get in the van.”

  My stubborn side wanted to protest. I could take care of myself. But the man backed off when Zack told him no, so I’d be stupid to argue. “Fine.”

  I gave Kirk a tug and he followed reluctantly, still eyeing the tree.

  Having Zack as my moving buddy hadn’t looked so appealing twenty-four hours ago.

  Oh how quickly my mind had changed.

  I opened the door and Kirk jumped inside after a final, pathetic look at the tree. The man was still by the picnic table, pacing and muttering to himself. He looked really pissed off. And crazy.

  “Get in, Baker.” Zack didn’t seem the least bit phased on the outside. He could have been taking a leisurely stroll. The tone of his voice, however, was strained.

  I climbed in. He did the same, shoving the keys into the ignition. He didn’t say anything at first, and didn’t have to. I could imagine steam coming out of his ears.

  “Are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes of driving, so suddenly, it took me a second to register his concern.

  I raised my eyebrows. “I’m okay, uh…thanks.”

  He nodded, giving Kirk a scratch behind his ears. “You better be.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a stupid question.” Taking his eyes off the road long enough to send me a steely glare, he sighed, “Chloe…”

  My heart galloped in my chest.

  I couldn’t remember the last time he said my name.

  “We just don’t like each other very much.” I said what I was thinking out loud. He looked like he wanted me to speak, and that was the only thing in my mind. The rest of me was shocked at his reaction to the situation. Because when I imagined a knight in shining armor, it wasn’t Zack.

  “My liking or disliking you is not important, Chloe.”

  “Oh?” breathless was a pretty accurate description of how I felt.

  “If I can be honest, you’re funny and kind of cute.” He laughed. “I’m not trying to make friends, but I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”

  “I guess we’ve made progress.” I held back a smile. He thought I was funny and cute! There was a time when I thought he would have fed me to the wolves. He still might, later, once we were back to normal. But this was good for now. We could be friends and enemies…frenemies. “I would never want anyth
ing bad to happen to you either.”

  He gave a tight nod, focusing on the road. “Okay, enough mushy stuff. Just know that I’m the only one who’s got the right to give you a hard time.”

  I smiled. “This goes both ways.”

  “Oh, I never expected you to be easy on me.”

  I decided that we had reached a truce of sorts. I didn’t see us willingly seeking out each other’s company in the future. Although I could see us cohabiting with few incidents, as long as we had a reasonable amount of space separating us.

  At this rate, pretending to get along for our parents will be a snap.

  Chapter 6

  Zack

  Pretending to be friends for our parents will be torture.

  No one messed with Chloe, except me, and that was only to throw her off. I didn’t want to be friends. I couldn’t be Chloe’s friend. I knew I’d want more. And it wasn’t right. She is my dad’s, wife’s daughter.

  But if I was in the mood to argue—I saw her first.

  I met Chloe way before our parents laid eyes on each other.

  Something about Chloe got to me, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. She was under my skin, in my head. I liked how she was optimistic, happy, and a hell of a lot of trouble, but special in a strange way.

  When she looked at me, sometimes I wondered if she knew what I was thinking.

  But that’s impossible.

  And it was more than that too.

  I liked to watch her walk. She had a perky walk. A springy, sexy, bouncy walk, and I can’t describe the rest of it…she just walked playfully. Her ponytail bobbed, or when her hair was down it swished. She was captivating in a way that no one else could manage.

  Then there was another side of Chloe. Witty and tough. I got in her face, and she’d go toe to toe with me. She never backed down.

  Chloe hefted boxes to the van and she didn’t gripe about her nails, or the fact that we were both sweaty. If she hadn’t been able to lift something or reach, she found a way. Pushing, pulling, dragging out a ladder. She complained when I tried to help her, only giving in when she couldn’t find an alternative.

  She still looked soft to me, feminine as she sweated it out beside me. I used to think girls were girly, or not. But Chloe balanced somewhere between the two.

  She left me unsettled. My world was somehow off its axis and righting itself at the same instant. Which was why I’d steered clear of her, trying to make it look like I didn’t want anything to do with her. I hadn’t been ready for that, for it to be so serious. With Chloe it would get intense, an actual relationship. Not just a date or a make out session at a party.

  I was headed down a tricky path.

  First Max pissed me off. The idea of anyone having sex with Chloe for sport set me on a warpath. Then the man at the park crossed a line.

  Nobody messed with Baker but me.

  I was definitely feeling more territorial over Chloe than any girl before. And the more I was around her, the stronger my feelings became. They were getting harder to ignore. And that was a very bad thing, considering she is my stepsister.

  Chloe sighed, flipping down the visor and fixing her ponytail.

  I kept my gaze on the road, though my eyeballs were burning to watch her primp.

  Kirk stretched out as best he could on the seat, plopping his head in my lap, and by the time we reached our new neighborhood my ass was screaming in protest. The seat padding had deflated long ago. I felt every little bump in the road. By the way Chloe wiggled and shifted, she was just as uncomfortable.

  I tried not to smile, because I loved watching her wiggle.

  Hell, I could watch her count beans.

  I’m in such a deep pile of shit. I wasn’t sure if I could claw my way out of it.

  Focus. I said to myself. And I did. Until I couldn’t keep my mouth shut because the silence was getting to me.

  “We’ve arrived.” I said, my voice filling with exaggerated dread.

  Chloe tossed a magazine she’d been thumbing through onto the seat between us and stared out the window. I tore my eyes from the road, knowing her reaction would be priceless.

  “No freaking way,” She murmured, sliding forward and placing her hands on the dashboard. “I’m waiting for the gotcha.”

  “Okay….”

  “You know, after someone tells a joke, they say, gotcha.”

  “This would be one hell of a joke.” The first time I drove from the old house to the new one, I actually pulled over to see if my dad was in the van behind me dying of laugher from the best practical joke ever.

  The town, or suburb, or whatever the hell these people called it, had two gas stations just after the first traffic light. One carried diesel and one carried regular gas. They sat right across the street from each other. I counted three traffic lights, two of which were out of order. But that didn’t matter; we were the only ones on the road. No movie theater, no mall, not even a bowling ally or a Wal-Mart.

  I didn’t see the point of Wal-Mart. I’m more of a Target guy.

  But at this point, I’d take what I could get.

  They did have a creepy diner, painted black, with a neon sign boasting the world’s worst cup of coffee. They probably weren’t lying.

  “Is it just me, or do things here seem a bit, uh, bizarre?” Chloe asked as I stopped the van to let a man and his goat cross. He was walking him on a leash like a dog, and he was the only sign of life. I didn’t see anyone else around.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of the Twilight Zone.” I slid closer to her, keeping my foot firmly on the break. She glanced up, curious. I pushed down the lock on her door, and then resumed my position at the wheel with a good amount of space between us, but I left my arm draped behind her on the seat.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “It seemed like a good idea.” I laughed, maybe a little nervously at her questioning look. I hoped my actions weren’t so obvious.

  “Am I hallucinating?” She pointed out the front window.

  The town had a strip mall of sorts covered in faux wood siding. An old marquee held together with duck tape listed each shop. It consisted of a drug store, connected to a liquor store, connected to a bar, connected to a pool hall, connected to a barber shop, connected to a grocery store, connected to the vet/family doctor—gee, I hope the vet and the doctor were separate people—and finally connected to a very tiny police station. One cop car sat out front. Behind the eyesore sat a school. It was a three-story brick building hosting grades K-12.

  “They must save money by consolidating.” Chloe mused.

  “Don’t drink the water.”

  “Why?”

  “It sounded logical in my head.” I said, and she giggled.

  Thank god she had a sense of humor.

  We drove out of the strange town down a deserted road, passing heavily treed lots, swampy flatlands, and turned left onto a dirt lane full of potholes.

  She crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. “It’s like we’re on another planet.”

  “Colonels Lane?’ I read an old sign halfway down the road.

  “If we were in a horror movie, the freaky music would start playing now.”

  “Don’t spook yourself, Baker.” I didn’t have any humor left in me, and her eyes were cautious, as if she felt just as uneasy as I did. Our parents went and bought the crazy farm. That was it. We were screwed. They hauled our asses out of the city to the swamp, to live like Florida hillbillies. Which were the same as regular hillbillies…only without the hills.

  “You’ve got a lot of room to talk after you locked the doors and told me not to drink the water.” She said.

  I grunted.

  “Don’t tell me that’s home.” She stared, mouth agape, at the massive house on the bend of the dirt road.

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  Painted a grayish blue, our new house had an enormous wraparound porch with a bright white railing. Flowerbeds full of colorful plants bordered the mailbox, the house, and t
he trees. Kirk was going to have a ball digging his way though them, if he was any kind of a normal dog. The jury was still out on that though.

  White shutters graced every window, and they weren’t the fake ones for show. They had latches on them to close over the windows. Hurricane shutters.

  People always think hurricanes are bad. I’ve met northerners who cringe, saying they’d rather go through a tornado.

  Me, I’d take a hurricane.

  You get a few days warning, time to pack up, kiss your house goodbye, and crash in a hotel out of the danger zone. It’s like a vacation. With a tornado you don’t have luxury of deciding when to leave, you just grab your ass and kiss it goodbye.

  “Damn.” I spotted a tractor in the side yard. It was rusted, the engine lying next to it in the dirt. “Well, there’s the yard art Molly was talking about.”

  “My mom said she wanted land.”

  “For what?”

  “Breeding mosquitoes?”

  Green landscape went on as far as I could see behind the house. No other homes or fences, just lots and lots of swampy green filled with plants I couldn’t identify. A dense line of trees lay beyond, and maybe a waterway.

  I parked beside our parents and got out to glare up at our new home. Our side trip to the park had given them a five-minute lead.