Long Live Dead Reckless

by Safari Spell

  The front lawn was dark except for a few gas lanterns that led the way to the double balcony wraparound porch harboring two shadows near the door. Walking up, the toe of my shoe caught an uneven stone sticking out of the walkway, and my keys flew out and made a loud clattering sound on the cobblestone. The shadows went still as I bent to scoop my keys. Azalea’s brother Jesse stepped out of the shadows shirtless and with crooked glasses.

  “Oh heyyyy,” I said, giving a slow parade wave.

  “Everybody’s around back. You remember Kyoko?”

  Kyoko, a pretty girl with short black hair and freckles, mumbled something to him before leaning her head out where I could see her.

  “Hey Talor,” she called nervously.

  From her awkward position and slumped shoulders, I could tell she was also topless. I pressed my lips together and nodded.

  “Yep. I’ll go around then.”

  I hurried off. The tiki torches helped ward away late summer mosquitos and the string lights cast a gentle glow over the water. At first glance, I counted six people, but there had to be a dozen. Some pervert sixth sense must have gone off because Spencer noticed me right away. His grin was visible from space.

  “Everyone, shut up and say hi to Talor,” Azalea yelled, throwing a beach ball at the back of some poor guy’s head.

  A million sets of eyes found me. I recognized some of them from the plays at Cypress College. I hugged myself around the waist, pretending my body was some broken thing I had to hold that tight to keep in one piece. I smiled at no one in particular.

  “Hello…strangers…ok, well, I’ll just be inside, Azalea.”

  Azalea pouted, putting her arm around me.

  “No, you have to swim. We’re closing it up in a few weeks.”

  “I can’t. I hurt my arm. I don’t want to get blood in the water. Especially with a certain shark here.”

  Azalea furrowed her brow.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.”

  Everyone had already gone back to whatever they were doing. That is, everyone except for Spencer, who was strolling over with wet hair plastered across his forehead. Azalea clapped her hands and directed to him.

  “Oooo, yay! Talor, this is –”

  “Oh, I know,” I interrupted.

  Spencer playfully shook water from his hair before leaning his head towards my arm.

  “You want me to kiss that and make it all better?”

  His voice sounded different. Deeper, more like testosterone than usual.

  “No, thanks,” I said flatly.

  Azalea stared hard at him as she cupped a hand over her mouth towards me.

  “I don’t know. Might actually work. I mean, look at him.”

  I jerked her hand away from her mouth and strangled her wrist.

  “Azalea. Why is he here?”

  Clenching her teeth, she fought a smile.

  “This is the Spencer you hate? Really?”

  We both looked at him. His hands were low on his hips, framing the body he cultivated with non-stop exercise and professional grade skirt chasing. There were muscles on him that I swear don’t exist on other men.

  Water raced down the crevasses between the streamlined muscles that stretched along his body and dove beneath the top of his low-hung shorts. I only assumed they kept going. I made myself look up to his eyes. It was the lesser of two evils, really.

  “You talk about me, Talor?” he asked, a wicked grin twisting on his lips.

  “I say bad things about you.”

  “You know you like saying my name.”

  Azalea’s eyes went wide and her chin rumpled. Before I could dropkick him into the pool, Azalea intervened.

  “Um, Talor, I need to talk to you, like, right now.”

  She took my elbow and carted me off into the glass sunroom where a cooler of beer sat along with two blenders full of margarita. There were all different types of brownies scattered on the table, and a girl standing alone beside it. She paid no attention to us. She was looking at her phone. Azalea introduced her as Valerie anyway. She had thick-brimmed glasses, a wide mouth, and dark hair tied up in a tight, thin ponytail. She looked like a standing railroad spike.

  “Nice to meet you, Valerie,” I said, forcing a smile.

  She looked up but didn’t respond. It was like she didn’t know what language we were speaking in. Forcing a smile, Azalea took a blender by the handle.

  “Valerie is a stage hand for most of the plays.”

  I nodded, pretending it was the best thing I’d ever heard. Valerie wasn’t even paying attention to me. She was already on her phone, doing whatever was more important than being polite and social. Without saying a word, she walked past us back outside. Azalea poured herself a margarita.

  “So, yeah, she’s kind of weird now. But anyway, back to interesting stuff. Seriously, that’s the guy you’ve been complaining about? I actually question whether or not he’s human. Those eyes – whew. So blue! And he is all up on you, girlfriend.”

  “Oh my God, he’s ‘all up’ on every girl. You have no idea how trashy he is.”

  “I could imagine…well, he looked bored until you got here.”

  “He’s Rose’s boyfriend.”

  She held up a hand.

  “Whoa. What? Rose the Presbyterian?”

  I cocked a brow at her.

  “What? She’s pretty.”

  With a bewildered stare, she offered me the margarita. Recoiling immediately, she rolled her eyes and grabbed my forearm.

  “Sorry, I forgot you’re a better Christian than me.”

  “Azalea, I don’t think –”

  “So, which swimsuit do you want to wear?” she interrupted, peering towards the pool area after Spencer. I guess she was over it that fast.

  “How do you even know him?”

  “Huh? Who?”

  “The ego with a shaved chest.”

  She popped a brownie in her mouth and made a funny face at me. She couldn’t look ugly if she tried. Snorting, she took my hand and started leading me back to her room.

  “Jesse’s friend. I just met him. I really want you guys to hook up. Hey, I’m thinking of having a mystery dinner party for Halloween this year. What do you think?”

  I stopped.

  “I wouldn’t have come tonight if I knew he would be here.”

  She spun around and planted a fist on her hipbone.

  “Well, ok, miss bossy. Sorry. Now come on.”

  She dragged me the rest of the way to her closet where she plucked a colorful two-piece off the rack.

  “Here. This one always looks good on you.”

  I took it with a sigh. It was purple and pink with light blue. It made me look like cotton candy all swirled together. I’d worn the swimsuit several times before, but I was never self-conscious in it. It was the only one Azalea had that I could wear, actually. I was curvier than her, and this bikini was cut larger. Holding it now, my stomach turned hollow. Azalea took another sip of her margarita and thoughtfully twisted her glass in her hand.

  “You should mess with him. Flirt like crazy. He’ll want you more but still get nowhere. Talk about frustration. Ta-da – you win.”

  “You don’t know this guy. Flirting is a very bad idea.”

  “Flirting is fun. Trust me. Do that and then ask him to break up with his girlfriend. He won’t do it. A guy like that knows he can always get some girl who doesn’t care that he has a girlfriend. It’s a control thing. Think about it.”

  Azalea didn’t wait for me to respond. She closed the door on her way out and I was left alone with the cotton candy bikini. Once it was on, I studied myself in the mirror. Being blessed in the chest and butt was sometimes a curse.

  Basically, when shopping. Nothing ever fit off the rack. But every now and then, curves were way better than a single digit size could ever be. The more I straightened the bikini to the comfortable position, the more I started to think A
zalea was right. My body was a weapon.

  Here I was, wrapped up in a pretty little cotton candy package to tease. He wasn’t used to me turning the tables, so it might just work. Besides, there was no way he was really interested in me – he just wanted to win the alpha male competition. I would call his bluff and he would ease off. Spencer was constantly bothering me. It was time to bother him right back.

  When I got out to the pool area, everyone was either swimming, dancing, or standing around cackling at glass shattering levels. I scanned for Spencer. When I saw him, he was across the pool talking to two other guys.

  When he saw me, his eyes went over my body a few times. He was holding a drink in one hand and something else in the other. It looked like marijuana. Ugh. Keep it classy, Spencer.

  As I walked over, he brought the joint to his lips.

  “Oooo, what’s that? Candy cigarette? Can I have one?” I asked.

  He gave a sly smile as the other guys mumbled nervous excuses about why they had to suddenly walk away. He just took a long hit and handed it off to one of the guys.

  He put his drink down on the nearby table and blew the smoke from the side of his mouth.

  “Come to see me this time?” he asked, his tone low, oozing from his throat.

  I paired my hands on my hips with my best judgmental glare.

  “Hey, I’ve got a question if you’re not too high. Don’t drugs show up on drug tests? You know, like, at work?”

  “Damn, girl,” he said, leaning forward and using his thumb and forefinger to slide up and down the string attaching the triangle top to the knot around my neck. “Will you wear this to work for me?”

  I didn’t slap his hand away. That was hard.

  “They actually do random drug tests, you know.”

  He was too busy drinking in my cleavage to care.

  “I wish we worked in aquatics together. Kids would be drowning everywhere.”

  “That’s not funny. I almost drowned when I was a kid.”

  He did a mock gasp as he pretended to tug on the string around my neck. Instinctively, my hand shot up to cover my chest. I fought the urge to punch him and licked my lips instead. I was going to keep my cool. I had to tease him to break him.

  “So, are you getting in with me or are you just going to stand there?”

  He straightened and gave a low growl of sorts as he ran a palm down the side of my torso to my hip.

  “Talor, this is –”

  I stepped a little closer.

  “I mean, you’re the only person I know here and … I just like the way you look right now.”

  With that, I spun on my heel and started down the stone steps into the shallow end. As expected, he was quick to follow. I glanced over and saw Azalea give me a goofy thumb’s up. I eased myself down into the water and dunked my head back. He swam around me, his interest piqued.

  “I like this new thing you’re doing.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I don’t even care if you’re messing with my head. Just mess with the rest of me, too.”

  I shot him a coy smile and gathered my wet hair off my shoulders, squeezing the excess water out. He watched, fixated on everything I did like there was nothing else going on in the world. Forget the loud music and drunk yelling all around us.

  “That’s tempting.”

  Agitated, he rolled his eyes and gave a short sigh.

  “You’re making me a little crazy right now, you know that? I know you’re into me.”

  He circled, inching a little closer. I wiped water off my chest and let the droplets trickle down my hand and dip back into the pool, making tiny dissipating ripples.

  “I know.”

  He stopped circling.

  “Huh?”

  I twisted my legs together in the water on the ball of my foot, skating the tips of my fingers along the surface.

  “Maybe I just don’t know what I want yet. I think I need some help making up my mind.”

  I splashed him and giggled before diving under. He chased and caught me by the foot. I squealed as he spun me around and brought us up, breathless and laughing. My knees had been loosely floating against his hips, but he took hold of my thighs and pulled me closer. We bobbed against the pool wall.

  There I rested my elbows on the edge.

  “That’s not fair,” I scolded. “You’re made of fins.”

  “I have other parts,” he said, his lip curling.

  He planted his hands on the concrete between my elbows on either side as the water lapped around us, still dancing the flirtatious rhythm we set off. We were silent for a moment – too close, too intimate. I had to do something or he would kiss me, so I brushed my fingers against the inner crook of his elbow and watched his skin cover in goose bumps.

  “I can be what you want,” he begged.

  “No, you can’t,” I said, eyeing him through lazy lids. “You have a girlfriend. Do I look like I share?”

  His gaze was steady on me as the rowdy water swayed our bodies gently against one another. I tried to pull my legs away, but Spencer caught my hips, holding me there firmly. He was not about to let anything come between us – literally.

  “I won’t share you, so you won’t share me,” he suggested, his own fingers stroking the curve in my thigh. “I swear it.”

  Trembling, I lowered my arms off the edge. I couldn’t believe it. Spencer didn’t care about anyone. He just took what he wanted and they liked it. I pushed my hands into his chest and took back my legs. We both stood up.

  “But she loves you, Spencer.”

  He looked lost in thought a moment, like he was weighing pros and cons. I shook my head and started up the pool ladder. He pulled me down and slung me over his shoulder. Those sitting around the pool raised their beers and cheered.

  Azalea jumped up out of the sun chair she had been lounging in.

  “Turn it up! This is my song!”

  The volume went up and soon the music was reverberating through the pool area. Everyone started grinding on someone else. Spencer held me over his shoulder like a caveman, his hand stretched out across the back of my thighs to keep me in place.

  “Spencer, please,” I pleaded, trying to scramble off.

  With a soft shrug, he rolled my body down his chest. When I splashed back into the water, he caught me by the small of my back and began waltzing me around the shallow end singing with the song. I just let him drag me through the silky water because I didn’t know what else to do.

  It wasn’t exactly the kind of song you waltz to, but he was spinning and dipping me at what seemed like all the right times. I was actually enjoying myself. Ninety-nine percent of the time Spencer was a pompous man-whore, but for two minutes in the pool, he was something else entirely.

  When the song was over, we were standing so close that breathing fused our exposed skin. Things began to feel hazy and slow. It was kissing weather, that.

  Panicking, I ripped myself away and bent one arm back to scrape hair out of my face, forcing distance between us. That’s when I noticed the bandage was falling off my elbow. His head snapped to look at it, and a flash of something like desire or rage flurried in those eyes.

  “I’ll do it,” he blurted.

  “What?”

  “I’ll break up with her.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I pushed away from him, verbally incapacitated. Once out of the pool, I snatched up my towel. Looking back, I saw he was already out of the pool and something in his hand was glowing. When he brought it up to his ear, I knew it was his phone.

  Azalea followed me inside.

  “Hey, hey! I saw that. Awwwwwesome! I didn’t know you had it in you. Wait. Where are you going?”

  I ran inside and slammed the door to her room.

  “That just made everything worse.”

  She leaned against the bedpost.

  “What did he say? Oh – wait. He’s going to break
up with her?”

  That made her start cackling, and I was so frustrated with her that I didn’t even bother taking off the bikini. I just started throwing my clothes on overtop it and scowled at her.

  “Seriously, he must really like you, Talor. Like, really. I think it’s sweet. Kinda.”

  “No,” I replied, tying the last shoelace extra tight. “It isn’t. It’s ridiculous. I’ll never hear the end of it now, don’t you understand?”

  “Well, sorry. They usually don’t do that. Don’t go.”

  When I stood up, I felt sick.

  “I can’t be here. I think he just called her.”

  Azalea twisted herself around the bedpost and wrapped her fingers up in her wavy hair.

  “Whaaat? Listen, if a guy who looks like that is willing to break up with his girlfriend – like, immediately – to get with you, then that is awesome. Believe me, there are worse things in the world than having that guy after you.”

  “Azalea, I know that for some reason you’re really impressed here, but I need you to just be on my side with this.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. He’s crazy for liking you so much.”

  I stared at the wall.

  “I am a terrible person who listens to terrible advice. God help me.”

  My tires squealed spinning out of the driveway. About a mile down the road, my phone lit up. I was scared to look at it at first. When I got a few miles further, I got brave enough to pick it up. The text was from Spencer.

  It’s done. Now get back here. You’re mine.

  4

  Spencer had a swim meet the next week, so he didn’t work his regular shift. That bought me some time to deal with the fallout. He did text me several times while he was gone, usually asking for a picture of me in that bikini. I always replied that he had the wrong number and the bikini in question was retired. One text he sent was almost sweet.

  But I miss you.

  I took a minute to text back. He was never so vulnerable. Someone must have stolen his phone or something.

  Oh really? What do you miss about me?

  I should’ve known his response would be less than chivalrous.

  Those curves. Send me a picture, Cotton Candy. I’m dying over here.