Wrong Side of Town

by Komal Kant

  “Don’t worry about it. I can take you. Penthill, right?”

  “Yes, at the library. Then we could go straight to your house when I’m done.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Once we’d hung up, I headed into the kitchen to make chicken stew to take for Dylan tomorrow. Just because Vincent didn’t want me at his house didn’t mean that I would stop taking care of Dylan.

  ***

  “You know, if things don’t work out between you and Vincent, I’m more than happy to step in,” Three said, his voice very close to my ear as Hadie and I browsed the classics section of the library.

  We’d left Dylan alone in the last ten minutes of our tutoring session so he could finish up some English homework, and Three had followed us along with his ridiculous chatter.

  With a roll of my eyes, I replaced the copy of The Scarlett Letter back on the shelf, trying to prevent the smile from creeping onto my face. It never bothered me what Three said because I knew most things that came out of his mouth were a joke; he was never serious when he made comments like that.

  “I plan on marrying a handsome, intelligent doctor. You’re just not going to cut it for me, Three.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Hadie looking at me, and we both grinned at each other. At least Three and I were keeping her mood up.

  Three staggered against the bookshelf, clutching his heart. “How can you say such cruel things to me, dearest Estella? My love for you is like a big, giant, bowl of swirling hormones that I can’t control.”

  Hadie snorted, and Three placed an arm around my shoulders, his blue eyes twinkling. “I have to keep you and your hormones in line somehow,” I said, pushing him off me. “I don’t want any unnecessary suitors.”

  “I can buy a suit if you want me to,” Three said, flashing me a cute grin.

  Hadie burst into laughter as I tried to get my own laughter under control. “I don’t think a suit will help you. You’re kind of a lost cause.”

  We started walking down the aisle and back towards where Dylan was sitting. It was about time we started heading home.

  Three’s face fell with rejection, which I knew was all an act. “I never had a chance anyway, not with Vincent declaring you off limits.”

  My steps faltered, and I scrutinized him, checking his face for any signs of him joking. Three evenly matched my stare. “I don’t know what you mean by Vincent declaring me off limits. There’s nothing going on between us and there never will be. I don’t mean anything to him.”

  Three caught my arm, surprise spilling onto his face. “Why would you think that?”

  “No reason.” Heat crept along my neck like a caterpillar. There was no way I was going to admit to him that the words had come straight out of Vincent’s mouth. I was already humiliated by the entire situation. “So I don’t understand why he would declare anything about me.”

  He stared at me in disbelief. “Girls are so messed up in the head. You always think the wrong thing about us.” He blew out a breath, looking agitated. “He wouldn’t have warned us all off if he didn’t have a thing for you.”

  “Um, okay then.” I was trying to process everything he’d just said, but my brain was trying to reject the idea that Vincent had claimed me as his territory.

  I mean, that’s basically what he’d done, wasn’t it? Essentially, I was a like a tree that he’d peed on. But I was a tree that he’d only peed on because I was part of the routine. That didn’t mean he didn’t pee on other trees. It didn’t make me special or different; I wasn’t naïve. There were other trees in his life.

  Dear lord, I was losing it. I was comparing our relationship to that of a dog and a tree. I was so glad no one could read my mind right now because they probably would declare me clinically insane.

  “Estella, I’m done!” Dylan came bounding up to us just then, a huge smile plastered across his face.

  My attention turned to Dylan, and I returned the smile. It was hard to be down when Dylan’s mood was so infectious. “That’s great, Dil! Did you have any trouble with the rest of the questions.”

  “Nope.” Dylan shook his head, his eyes bright as he looked up at me. “Do you really have to go now? Can’t you come to our house?”

  Three and Hadie walked past us, leaving Dylan and I alone. Reaching over, I ran my hand through his feathery, blonde hair, hating that I had to disappoint him. It seemed pretty obvious to me that Vincent didn’t want me at the house, and I wasn’t going to put myself in a position where he called me “desperate” again.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.” I glanced over to where Hadie was standing with Three. “My friend’s waiting for me.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” Dylan said, even though I knew he didn’t mean it. “Thanks for the stew.”

  “No problem.” I took Dylan’s hand in mine, and we started to head out of the library and into the cold November afternoon. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, okay?”

  There was an awkward silence as we all crowded around Three’s truck. Hadie was staring at something in the distance, Three was shooting me a teasing smile, and Dylan was somber like he was on his way to a funeral.

  Finally, Dylan broke the silence. “We didn’t dance today.” He seemed sad that we’d broken our tradition, and I felt bad for letting him down.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” I said, giving him a firm smile. “There will come a time when we can dance whenever we want.”

  I wasn’t sure how much truth was in that promise, but a part of me hoped that it was something that would become a possibility one day. Hopefully, Vincent would get over his issues and let me spend more time with his brother in their home.

  We went our separate ways, and Hadie and I discussed how she was still trying to catch up on all the work she’d fallen behind on when she’d taken time off from school. It was sad to hear about her struggling so much with her classes, because she was so intelligent and had never had any problems academically before.

  Once we got to Hadie’s house, her mom welcomed us at the door.

  “Hi, Estella, it’s good to see you,” she said, enveloping me in a hug.

  “Hi, Mrs. Swinton. How have you been?”

  “Not too bad,” she said as she ushered us inside. “Dinner’s ready if you girls are hungry. I made meatloaf because we had leftovers from last night and I was feeling lazy.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at that. The thing about Hadie’s parents was that they had a really quirky sense of humor. I absolutely loved them for it. They had really supported me and my family after my mom had left.

  “Where’s Dad?” Hadie asked as Mrs. Swinton served us dinner.

  “He’s working late,” Mrs. Swinton said, her expression quite serious, “but I think that’s just an excuse. I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping with the receptionist.”

  I choked on a piece of meat as I tried to stifle my laugher. Okay, you’re probably wondering why I found that so funny. See, the thing is, Mrs. Swinton was the receptionist at the law firm that Hadie’s dad worked at, so undoubtedly he was sleeping with her.

  “Interesting,” Hadie said, barely cracking a smile.

  My best friend’s lack of reaction was pretty concerning. As she picked at her dinner with a fork, I exchanged a concerned look with Mrs. Swinton. I wasn’t the only one worried about her. I was glad to have alone time with Hadie tonight. We really needed to talk about how she was dealing with everything.

  I gave Mrs. Swinton a reassuring smile, and we continued to make small talk until we were done eating. After dinner, Hadie and I changed into our PJs and climbed into her bed, getting under the covers to keep warm. Hadie had switched off the light, so I stared up at the ceiling, looking into darkness.

  It was only eight o’clock, but we were both exhausted. Most kids our age would’ve been out at a party or something. I’m pretty sure Ray had mentioned something about a bonfire, but it really wasn’t Hadie or my thing. Sometimes I felt like we were both a lot older than sevent
een.

  “Eddie’s really worried about you,” I said, as a way to break the silence.

  “Is he?’ Hadie asked, her voice tense.

  I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, he is.”

  “Okay.” She fell silent.

  “He’s a really sweet guy.”

  “I know.”

  “I know you’re not okay,” I said, finally getting to the point. “I understand why you’re not okay, and I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

  Hadie sighed deeply. “What do you want me to say to that? I don’t know what everyone expects from me.”

  “I just want you to say that you’ll be okay one day.”

  “Well, I can’t say that because I don’t think I’ll ever be okay. I don’t think I’ll ever move past this. It’s impossible to forget him.” Her voice caught in her throat, and I reached over to hold her but she pushed me away. “No, don’t. It’s something I need to get over myself. I’m sick of talking about it; I just want to wallow in my misery. I want to do this on my own. In my own way; in my own time.”

  I knew where she was coming from. I was the exact same. I had a lot of problems of my own that I didn’t want to share with anyone else. I dealt with them alone because when I felt everything slipping away from me, I liked to have some semblance of control in my life.

  “Then that’s okay too, I guess.”

  Hadie sighed again, and slipped her hand into mine. “Can we talk about something else, please? I’m already sick of talking about this with the therapist every week. Ray said something about you and a Madden who’s so sexy she wants to lick his skin off.”

  I tried not to gag at the mental image of Mariah licking Vincent. “I’ve already come to the conclusion that Ray has brain damage, so I guess it’s normal for her to think a member of the Madden gang is sexy.”

  “So Dylan’s brother is in the Madden gang?”

  “Not exactly. Dylan’s brothers are the Madden gang.” I said in a casual tone. “The three oldest brothers are actual Maddens who run the gang.”

  “Wow,” Hadie breathed, “I missed a lot. What are they like? Terrifying?”

  “Um, I wouldn’t say that.” I paused. “They’re interesting. I guess I didn’t expect them to actually be so human. I expected them to have no feelings and just go around beating up everyone, but they’re not like that at all.”

  “And, what about this Vincent guy Ray keeps going on about? He’s the one who hired you, right? What’s he like?”

  My chest tightened at the thought of Vincent. I’d tried so hard not to think too much about him tonight. It felt weird not seeing him, like I was missing something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  “He’s...” I searched for the word, “complicated, I guess. He holds back a lot. I think it’s all part of the tough guy act he has going on and he’s trying hard not to be weak. But there’s obviously a lot going on in his life and he’s pretty messed up.”

  “Do you like him?”

  I hesitated, not really sure how I felt about Vincent. At the moment, I kind of wanted to give him a piece of my mind.

  “He’s not a bad guy.”

  It was obvious that I’d avoided answering her question, but thankfully Hadie didn’t press the topic any further.

  “How are things with your dad?”

  This was another topic that I didn’t really want to talk about. My friends knew about my dad’s issues, but they didn’t really know how bad things had gotten for us. A part of me just wanted to tell Hadie everything that was going on in my life. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was happening to me.

  I wanted to ask for help, I really did, but I was ashamed. I was ashamed of what I let him do to us. I was afraid that people would judge me. I was scared that somehow this was my fault and I would be blamed for letting it continue for so long.

  Besides, Hadie had enough problems of her own without me adding to that. I didn’t want to make her feel even worse, so I just swallowed away all that pain that had been stored in my chest for so long that it had become a part of me.

  I was pain.

  “Things are better,” I lied, because I truly wanted to believe that. “Things are definitely better with him.”

  And as the lie left my mouth, I could almost pretend that my lie was a truth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vincent

  The air crackled with excitement—the crowd was bloodthirsty tonight.

  People surged around me, moving forward as they tried to get a view of the two fighters. I wasn’t fighting tonight, but I was here to scope out my competition.

  Whoever won tonight would be fighting me in a couple of weeks. That would be the big fight; that was the fight everyone bet the big bucks on. That was the fight I couldn’t lose. Ryder was making sure I kept my focus for it.

  This fight was a big deal for everyone involved in the amateur circle, and by the looks of it, the newcomer wasn’t going to go down easy. He was in the ring with Smith, who was probably our best fighter after me, and seemed to be getting the better of him.

  “Look at that guy,” Ryder said from beside me. “He’s not holding back. That’s a guy who’s been through shit in his life. That’s how you can tell a good fighter, little bro. You can tell by how desperate they are; from how dirty they fight.”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I continued to watch Smith and the newcomer. The guy Ryder was talking about wasn’t as big as his Smith. He had dark blonde hair, was a little taller than me, and was lean and muscular. Smith was a huge son of a bitch and people were usually intimidated by his size alone. They usually just psyched themselves out and Smith would win easy. He knew how to use his size to get into people’s heads. The main issue with Smith was that he was a stupid fighter.

  His punches kept missing because he swung without focus. His strategy was to hit the smaller guy and knock him down, but he wasn’t really considering anything else beyond that. His movements were slow and delayed, while the other guy was quick on his feet. His eyes were calculating as he dodged Smith’s large fists every single time.

  I leaned forward eagerly. This fight was getting good now. Smith was hard to beat, but it seemed pretty obvious that the newcomer had an advantage over him.

  I could tell. The crowd could tell. All eyes were on the new guy.

  And then the fight turned deadly. Smith let out a roar and moved forwards, throwing both his fists around like a moron, hitting air every single time. The newcomer jumped out of the way, and then he suddenly darted to the left and punched hard against Smith’s side.

  The crowd let out a chorus of “oohs”, but the fight wasn’t over yet. Smith clutched his side, obviously in pain, and that’s when the newcomer started barraging him with punches and kicks at lightning speed. He was relentless, he was merciless; he didn’t show any signs of stopping, until Smith was out cold.

  Smith’s supporters—mainly our guys—starting heckling and swearing at the newcomer, who didn’t seem fazed by the assholes yelling around him. There was a lot of cheering too, and he was swept up into the crowd.

  There was a gleam in Ryder’s eyes when he turned to me. “That’s Troy’s new guy. Not bad, huh?”

  I shrugged, not letting the nervousness show on my face. I never got nervous, but all of a sudden something made me not want to be in the upcoming fight. This was what Ryder meant by not losing focus. If I went into a fight and my head wasn’t in the game, I was majorly screwed.

  “You can take him though. He’s good, but he’s not as good as you are,” Ryder said, unfazed by how quiet I was. He grabbed me by the shoulders with enthusiasm. “Shit, Vin! We’re gonna make so much money from this fight! Bets are already being lined up and it’s pretty even at this point. There’s no way you’re gonna lose this thing.”

  I didn’t bother to answer him.

  What the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell him how I was feeling because he’d give me shit for being weak. All I could do was
act like everything was fine—that I was fine—and that I was confident about the upcoming fight; that I wanted to win, and that I would win. Because I never lost a fight.

  “Yeah, I’ll pound his ass into the ground.”

  Ryder grinned and led me through the crowd, and once again I couldn’t help but feel like my life was under someone else’s control. I kept wanting to break free and make my own decisions, but Ryder was in charge of me, and I let him play that role in my life like I was a fucking puppet.

  Later that night, we sat around a small fire at the creek behind our house. The boys were all here, drinking and smoking and being loud. As usual, there were lots of girls around, but none of them caught my interest.

  I was quiet as I sat with Goat and Three, who kept going on about the newcomer that the Allbrooks were backing. Everyone was talking about his victory against Smith and wondering how he’d stack up against me.

  “Did you see how fast he was?” Three’s face was lit in an orange glow from the fire. “Shit! I couldn’t keep up with all the punches he threw. Smith won’t be getting laid for a long time. Poor bastard.”

  After the fight tonight, Smith had barely been able to move. He was one of the best fighters we had and he’d gotten his ass pummeled. Sure, it sucked to get your ass kicked, but the embarrassment was a hell of a lot worse than any physical damage he’d endured. He was getting a lot of shit for letting a new guy kick his ass in.

  “So a pretty shit day all round,” Goat said as he took a puff of his cigarette. “We didn’t even get any dinner from Estella tonight.”

  “I did,” Three said, looking pleased with himself. “She brought stew for Dylan and he let me have some.”

  “You lucky bastard,” Goat growled.

  Three held up his hands in defense. “Hey, don’t go hatin’ on me. Vin was the one who didn’t want her at the house.”

  Goat glanced at me sideways. “What’s up with that, huh? She’s probably the only chick we know who’s not easy and who we actually don’t treat like a piece of meat.”