Payton Hidden Away

by Jonathan Korbecki

  I shake my head, equally frustrated. “Maybe that’s the problem. I haven’t changed, but everything else has.”

  She doesn’t answer, but I recognize the cold silence she’s placed between us. It’s always been her way of putting me down. It’s how she makes it clear that she’s right, and I’m wrong. Guilty by attrition. Or was it proximity?

  “Pull in here,” she says suddenly, unbuckling her belt while pointing at a restaurant coming up on the right.

  I frown. “O’Riordan’s?”

  “They have good steaks.”

  “Is it new?”

  “Compared to what?”

  “Compared to I don’t recognize it.”

  “They were here before you left.”

  “I don’t remember it.”

  “Blame it on old age.”

  The parking lot’s mostly empty, so parking is convenient. She climbs out, and I catch the wiggle of her perfect butt as she strolls toward the entrance. Then she turns and brushes the hair out of her eyes. “You comin’?”

  I pull the keys from the ignition and step from the car. I consider locking up, but this is Payton County, not New York City. I follow her up on the sidewalk and toward the front door where a merry bell announces our entrance, and a jukebox sings hello.

  Four

  Yesterday

  “Do you love me, Tony?” she asks, grinning up at me with those baby blues. Her head is my lap, her Geography textbook in hers, but she hasn’t looked at it in probably ten minutes or more. “Anthony.” She giggles. “Anthony Alexander Abbott.”

  I’m perched up against an old oak tree while highlighting what I hope are pertinent pieces of info I’ll need for my science final. “Of course I do,” I answer without even looking up. At this point, I say ‘yes’ out of habit. I mean, she asks me like every five minutes. It’s probably love, but I’m seventeen years old. What the hell do I know about love?

  She sits up and tosses her hair until it cascades over her shoulder and seductively hides half of her face. She smiles. “Triple A.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just saying.”

  “Saying what?” I’m totally engrossed in highlighting the shit out of this book.

  “Your name. Triple A. It sounds like the name of someone famous,” she sighs dreamily. “Like a rock star.”

  She never calls me Triple A. Only when she’s mad. So I look over. She looks so pretty like that. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeth. I may or may not be in love, but I’m certainly in lust. She leans in. Her lips are soft, her tongue warm. Her hand finds the bulge in my pants and gives it a slight squeeze. Embarrassed, I roll away and stand—turning my back.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “What are you so embarrassed about? That’s the way things are supposed to work, you know.” I can hear her stand. Then she does that thing she does where she wraps her arms around me from behind and rests her head against my back. “Besides, I like it,” she murmurs. “I like knowing it’s because of me.”

  Now I’m even more uncomfortable. It’s not the same for girls. Girls can tell if a guy is turned on, but it’s not as easy the other way around, and I hate knowing that she can tell and I can’t. “Don’t be mad,” she says, starting to sway—holding on from behind while encouraging me to sway with her. There’s no music, but we don’t really need any. She loves to dance. She’s always moving to something, and I swear I’ll never get tired of watching her move. Of course, I can’t actually see her since she’s holding onto me from behind, so I turn back to face her, and she greets me with an incredibly white smile, her eyes twinkling. Leaning on her tip-toes, she kisses me, and all is right with the world.

  So much for homework.

  She rests her head against my chest and slows things down. “I hate that you’re leaving,” she whispers, and here comes the guilt trip.

  “It’s not permanent. I’ll be back for Christmas.”

  “But Georgia?”

  “What’s wrong with Georgia?”

  “It’s so far away…”

  Now she’s running her hand under my shirt, and while the sensation is foreign, I like the feel of her cool fingers against my skin. Still, I’m leery someone will walk up at any moment and berate us for being lewd in public, and I squirm uncomfortably, looking around.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “What if someone…”

  But she’s getting braver. She’s moved her hand lower, now caressing the outside of the front of my jeans. “It’s okay,” she whispers.

  Every teenage kid dreams of losing his virginity, and I’m no exception, but seriously? Out in the middle of a public park? This place is totally exposed. Sure, it’s up on a hill and set back from the main path, but it’s also a small town. Everybody knows everything about everyone else.

  “It’s okay,” she repeats.

  Of course it’s okay. It’s amazing. I’ve never been so excited in my whole life. But I’m also terrified. She’s holding me with her eyes to make sure I won’t bolt while using her hand to encourage me. I’m not sure how far she’s prepared to go, but I can tell she’s getting into it. Her chest is rising and falling as she breathes, and my worries of getting caught are slipping away. At this point I think I’m more worried that it might actually happen, right up until—

  “Yo, Triple A!” comes a distant call. Immediately, I break from my trance. Ritchie is trudging up the hill toward us. “What you doin’, man?”

  My erection shrivels like a deflated balloon, and Kristie backs off, disappointment evident in her eyes.

  “Are you guys dancing or somethin’?” Ritchie gasps as he makes the steep climb. “I been looking all over for you.”

  “I’ve been hiding from you,” I say, my tone rigid.

  Ritchie is panting by the time he reaches my side. “Too much…” he tries and shakes his head as he leans his hands on his knees. “That is one big ass hill.” Finally, he straightens and slaps me sharply on the back. “What are you two doin’ way up here?”

  “I’m spending time with my girlfriend,” I say.

  Ritchie looks at Kristie then me before breaking into a grin. “Cool.”

  I bite my tongue, reminding myself to remain calm. “And?”

  “And what?” he pants.

  “And why are you here?”

  “I gotta show you somethin’.”

  “It can wait.”

  Ritchie eyes me a moment and then Kristie before shaking his head. “Not really. You’ll wanna see this.”

  “It can wait.”

  Ritchie narrows his eyes at Kristie before turning on me. “Look, there’s something I gotta show you. It’s important.” He slaps me on the arm again. “Let’s go.”

  “Jesus, Ritchie, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  He just stands there, hands at his sides, sweat stains under his arms, his chest heaving. “I swear I’m gonna knock you flat if you keep talkin’ blasphemy like that.”

  “Then stop pissing me off.”

  He shakes his head, exhales and lifts his yes. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You gotta see this. I’m tellin’ you.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Go ahead,” Kristie interrupts. She looks me in the eye and offers a tiny nod. “Go with your friend. I don’t want you two fighting.”

  “We’re not fighting.”

  “Go. It’s okay.”

  “See?” Ritchie says, the light returning to his eyes. Apparently he’s caught his second wind, and something has him unusually excited. “Even the old ball and chain wants to get rid of you.”

  “Give me a minute,” I answer.

  “We ain’t got a minute, bro. This is a limited time offer. We gotta go. Now.”

  “Then at least give me a second,” I snap.

  Ritchie frowns, but nods. “Make it quick.” He turns his back and starts shuffling back down the hil
l.

  Kristie looks up at me with those baby-blues. “I’m not mad,” she says. “I promise.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Ritchie is Ritchie.”

  “For better or for worse.”

  I smile. “Right.”

  “To be continued?”

  I kiss her, savoring the leftover minty goodness of the Tic Tacs she’s been sneaking all afternoon. “I’ll see you tonight,” I promise, kissing her forehead.

  She shakes her head. “My parents will be home. I’ll call you.” She smiles. “It’ll be late. Probably after ten.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  She giggles. “You better.”

  One more quick kiss, and I scoop my books, shove them into my backpack, and trot down the hill to catch up with my friend, spilling the ball cap he’s wearing as I pass by. He swings carelessly. “Dumb ass,” he murmurs as he retrieves the hat. Together we race toward the sunset, seemingly on a collision course with nothing.

  Part II

  Even though I graciously agreed to give up what might have been the most important day of my young life, Ritchie is pouting as we make our way out of the park, and to make sure I know it, he’s wearing a scowl while refusing to look at me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask. “What’s so important?”

  No answer.

  “You just made me walk away from my girlfriend, and I did it for you, so you’d better open that pie hole of yours and tell me why.”

  The Ritchie Hudson silent treatment continues.

  “Ritchie, if you’re planning on pouting like a little bitch, I swear to God I’m leaving you here.”

  He frowns. “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you would have clued in to the fact that she and I were at the top of the hill and away from prying eyes for a reason.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re not sorry.”

  “I sorta am.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He opens up into a wide grin. “To make all your dreams come true.”

  “My dreams were on the verge of coming true, stupid.”

  “I mean, like your other dreams.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Trust me.” He rips my book-bag from my hands and tosses it into the ditch. “Now we’re even.”

  “You’re such a…” I climb into the ditch to retrieve it. “Now everything’s wet. My books, my notes—everything.”

  “Quit yer cryin’. You’re acing all your classes anyway.”

  “Finals are in two weeks, asshole. I need those notes.”

  “What difference does it make? You already got accepted. In two more weeks you’re all the way gone. A new zip code, a new city, a new life. You’re leaving us all behind anyway. You might as well skip finals and leave town now.”

  “Is that what this is about?”

  “Is that what what is about?”

  “What did I ask you like ten minutes ago? Where. Are. We. Going?”

  “The one place that might convince you to stay.”

  “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

  “Yeah, well once you see this, you might stick around. This is, like, the most amazing thing ever.”

  “What is?”

  “I seen Sharon on my way past, and she was sunbathing. Nude.”

  “Sharon who?” I ask. “Sharon Daniels?”

  “No, Sharon fucking Stone. How many Sharons do you know?”

  “What do I care if she’s sunbathing nude?” I ask. “Ritchie, I’ve got a girlfriend, and if you hadn’t noticed, I was already on second base when you so rudely interrupted.”

  “Kristie’s cute,” Ritchie says. “I’ll give her that. She’s cute, but she ain’t no Sharon Daniels.”

  “And it’s not like you can just accidentally walk by her backyard,” I argue. “What were you doing, peeping through her fence?”

  “There wasn’t nothin’ accidental about it. And it’s not like she was hiding. She’s just making it easy. I think she likes it. Hell, if I had a body like that, I would.”

  “You’ve got a body like a Mr. Potato Head. I’m going back.”

  I even turn away, but Ritchie grabs me by the arm. “You’re not going nowhere. This is a life-changing moment. Trust me.”

  “This is pathetic. Seriously, you should be embarrassed,” I answer, but I follow anyway.

  For the record, Sharon is over twenty one. Four years may not sound like a lot, but to an eighteen year old kid, it’s the difference between ‘girlfriend’ material and ‘untouchable’ hotness. Her dad is a salesman who’s always traveling, and her mom is a flight attendant who’s also largely absent. Sharon never went to college, so until she sorts through the long list of potential husbands begging for her attention, she’s staying at home on her parents’ dime. She’s an only child, spoiled from birth and starved for attention, and to her benefit, she has the kind of body that warrants attention, so she puts it on display, advertising to the highest bidder.

  Ritchie leads me along an abandoned train track that runs up behind Sharon’s fenced in backyard. It’s one of those wooden fences where the slats are four inches wide with only a half-inch gap in between. The fence is old and weathered, the planks gray and shriveled from brutal summers under the hot sun. I feel like a thief stealing my way into someone’s private life. The afternoon is dry, the bugs out in force and the ground under our feet crunchy and loud enough to give us away.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask.

  “I will be if you’d keep it down,” Ritchie hisses. “Come on.” He leads along the wooden privacy fence that guards the Daniels back yard. I’m getting nervous. If we get caught…

  Ritchie stops beside a knothole, crouches over and peers through. Standing, he looks at me with a big teddy-bear grin and nods. “Take a look.”

  I crouch down and peer through the hole, and sure enough, there’s Sharon Daniels lying on her back on a floating mattress in the middle of their swimming pool wearing nothing more than her birthday suit. Her breasts are soft round mounds on her chest, her nipples a dark pink. Her legs are long, tanned and toned from hours upon hours of jogging. Her stomach is as flat as the sea after a storm. And right there, as if her legs are runways leading all the way to Heaven, there is a patch of brown curly hair at the center of every teenage boy’s universe. This is the first woman I’ve seen naked in real life. It’s so much more amazing than Playboy or some still life photograph. This is a girl every guy in town has probably jerked off to at one point or another.

  “Lemme see,” Ritchie whispers, and I back off a step so he can look. He shakes his head, licks his lips and sighs quietly. “Unbelievable.”

  “This is wrong,” I say. “I mean, we’re spying on her.”

  “It’s right,” Ritchie replies as he stands. Sweat is running in beads from his forehead. “It’s right in so many ways.”

  “Maybe we should go.”

  “Maybe we should stay, and maybe you should be a little quieter so we don’t get caught.” He bends down again, closes one eye and peers thought the knothole with the other. His mouth curls into a smile. “That body was made to be seen.”

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Just take one more look,” he says, backing away. “One more look, and if you still wanna go, we’ll go.”

  “You are such a pervert.”

  “Oh, and you’re not? You’re just playin’ it cool ‘cuz you got a girl, and you want to act all non-challent.”

  “Nonchalant, dumb ass.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I’m not looking.”

  “Look.”

  “I’m not looking.”

  “Look, or I’ll yell so loud the whole neighborhood will know you’re here.”

  “You’re such a—”

  Ritchie fills his lungs, puffing out his chest, ready to unleash a howl that will not only alert Sharon to our position but everyone else within a fifty mile radius.
<
br />   “Fine,” I hiss. I shake my head and turn back to the fence. Crouching down, I peer through the hole. By this time, she’s slipped off her inflatable raft and is swimming toward the ladder. Her movements are graceful—sleek. The angel on one shoulder is telling me to look away, while the devil on the other is insisting nobody gets hurt. Besides, the devil argues, Ritchie’s probably right. She wants to be seen.

  Sharon climbs out of the pool and turns to face the sun, giving me a perfect view of her bare backside while she squeezes water from her hair. Of course, she has absolutely no idea that I’m peering through her fence or that I’m even here, enjoying her body in all of its glorious—

  She turns suddenly, as if she’s heard something, and looks directly at the knothole I’m peering through. Directly at the knothole. We even lock eyes for a second before she looks away. Maybe she didn’t see me. Even so, my heart is now thundering in my chest, but I keep watching as she prances slowly across the grass and sits on the porch swing only a few feet away. She’s sitting on the swing, buck naked, kicking her feet out as she swings back and forth. She knows I’m here. She has to. How couldn’t she? She’s just swinging away, her wet hair dancing against her bare skin.

  “Oh my god,” I mouth silently.

  “Lemme see!” Ritchie hisses.

  I raise a finger to my lips and point at the knothole before drawing a finger across my throat. Ritchie urgently points at himself then the hole. I back off so he can look, and immediately his eyes widen with amazement, his mouth dropping open. I have to admit, watching his expression is almost as entertaining as watching Sharon.

  “Dude,” he whispers.

  “I know.”

  “Dude.”

  “We should go.”

  “Kiss my grits, you got a girlfriend,” he whispers back. “I got calluses.”

  “You’re going to get caught.”

  “Find your own peephole.”

  “That’s not the…” I’m frustrated. “That’s not my point.”

  He just waves me off.

  I flip him off before walking the fence until I find another peephole. This one’s not as big, and the angle isn’t as good. I can see a bare leg and a white thigh, but that’s about it. Even so, god sure knew what he was doing when he made Sharon Daniels. She swings a few more moments before getting out of the swing. She watching something, and I think it’s a butterfly. Or maybe just a bug. No, it has to be a butterfly, because she’s following it, and why wouldn’t she? It’s perfectly natural for naked girls to frolic after butterflies for no particular reason…