“Excuse me,” I mumbled, pushing my way through a group of burly-looking men sporting Grateful Dead T-shirts to get to who I hoped was Justin Cobb. His back was toward me, a black shirt stretching across a taut set of shoulders.
I put on the warmest smile I could manage and stuck my chest out just enough to get noticed.
“Hey! I thought that might be you—”
My smile disappeared when the mustached face of a man in his late twenties turned around in response to the hand I placed on his back. His eyes dropped down to my chest and his mustache tipped up in a Chester-the-Molester smile, revealing crooked yellow teeth and a piece of something resembling corn stuck to his right incisor. His eyes, still glaring greedily at my chest, told me he wasn’t the kind of guy who asked for permission.
I ran toward the women’s restroom before I could hear whatever pervy words he was about to say to me, shame washing over me at the idea that I mistook him for my Justin.
“He might as well have tattooed this Goddamned thing onto my hand,” Sunny said when she caught sight of me standing behind her in the grimy bathroom mirror. “Since when did being underage make you a leper?” She paused to examine the top of her hand, the skin red and raw from her vigorous attempts to scrub away the X. “No luck finding Justin, huh?”
I shook my head and joined her at the sink to start working on my own X, scrubbing until it faded from dark black to a muted gray. I didn’t think I could get much more of it off without removing a layer of skin. “He’s probably waiting until the main band comes on.”
“I think I got it all.” Sunny proudly displayed her angry pink skin in triumph. “You want to come to the bar with me so we can get someone to buy us shots?”
I shrugged, not feeling like doing much of anything until I found Justin. But at least it would kill time until then.
We headed for the bar, and I broke away for an empty cocktail table so I could keep an eye on the entrance. In typical Sunny fashion, she commandeered two shots and several admirers after only twenty minutes. I watched in awe as a circle of guys danced around her like moths circling a flame, each fighting to get closer to her as she tossed her hair and grinned back at them mischievously.
The band took their places on stage, announcing the start of the show with a few screeching guitar chords as they launched into their first song. When I turned back toward the entrance, I saw Justin’s friends making their way inside the club.
“Give me a cigarette,” I said to Sunny after pushing my way through the circle of guys orbiting around her.
“Jeez, bossy. How about at least saying ‘please?’” She handed me one of her Camels, and I noticed she teetered a bit on her stool. “Did you find him or what?”
“I saw Mark Schroen, Greg Younger, and some other guys from school come in a few minutes ago. He’s got to be with them.”
Sunny made a face when I mentioned Mark Schroen. She would never refer to him as her ex-boyfriend, but it was obvious from the way she glanced at him in the hallways that their so-called summer fling was more than a fling.
“Ugh, don’t talk to that douche. He’s about as interesting as a bag of rocks.” She waved her hand dismissively, sliding off the stool as she did.
“Maybe you should lay off the shots for a while. You have to drive me home.”
“Maybe you should spend less time bossing me and more time stalking your prey, stalker.” She looked at one of her admirers and fake-whispered into his ear while pointing at me, “She’s a total stalker.”
“Seriously, Sunny,” I said after listening to the way she slurred out the word stalker. I didn’t want it to be another one of those nights. “Cool it on the drinks for a bit.”
“Who died and turned you into Alana James?” she said, referencing one of her favorite classmates to torment. Alana was harmless, but therein laid the dig. I was not in the mood to be compared to someone Sunny thought of as boring. My face must have looked stricken, because Sunny flipped her hair back and gave me an encouraging smile. “Don’t forget that cigarette move I taught you. Gets the boys every time.”
The unlit cigarette was perched in my fingers as I made my way through the crowd. My plan was simple: bump into Justin, ask him for a light, and execute the Sunny sex-glare. But when I got to where the guys from my school were standing, Justin was nowhere to be found.
“Hey, Taylor!” Mark Schroen shouted to me over the music. “What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same question!” I shouted back, not wanting to give away the truth—I overheard him talking to Justin about their plans to come to the concert. “I came with Sunny,” I added, so he would know I wasn’t alone. He followed my gaze to the bar and rolled his eyes when he caught sight of her whispering into the ear of one of her potential suitors.
“Need a light?” Someone's breath touched my neck, and I turned to see Logan Emery standing inches away from me with a lighter in his outstretched hand.
I stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. I hadn’t seen him outside of school since before his brother’s accident. It was like seeing a ghost.
“Um, well, I, um … sure,” I finally said, not able to come up with a valid way to explain why I was holding an unlit cigarette if I didn’t want a light. If I’d been quicker on my feet I could have slipped the cigarette behind my ear and claimed to be saving it for later. Instead, I blew my chance at sex-glaring Justin because I was too shocked at Logan’s appearance to think straight.
He clicked the lighter to life, and I bent over the flame, gently touching his hand to steady it.
“Thanks.” I tipped my head up as I exhaled so I wouldn’t blow smoke in his face. “You haven’t by any chance seen Justin Cobb, have you?” I wouldn’t dare ask Mark the question, but I didn’t think Logan and Justin were good friends, making him the least risky interrogation option.
He shook his head. “Why, are you guys supposed to meet up or something?”
“No!” There was more force behind my voice then I intended. “I mean, no,” I repeated more softly. “He mentioned he might come, so I was curious if he came with you guys. That’s all.”
“You’re in my Spanish class,” he said after studying me for a few moments, his mouth closer to my ear than I was comfortable with. I nodded and faced the stage, not sure what else to say to him. “You’re pretty good. It’s my second time taking the class, and I still can’t manage to conjugate my verbs.”
I blinked a few times, surprised by his open admission to being held back a year. I picked at my nail polish and offered him my cigarette.
“Thanks.” His fingers brushed against mine as he took it from me. “It’s okay if you want to ask about it. Everyone else does.”
I turned to look at him, watching the way the stage lights danced across his face, changing from blue to red to yellow and back again. He was out in public on a Friday night, so he must be doing better. But there was still something sad hiding behind his gray eyes.
“Do you miss him?” I asked.
“Yeah. Every day.” His voice was flat, but he offered me a small smile. “I didn’t really want to come back to school after it happened. I was really angry, you know? I was pissed at myself for letting him get behind the wheel of his car, and pissed that the universe was screwed up enough to take away my brother. But I’m better now. I still miss him, but I’m better.”
We watched the band in silence for a while, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
I couldn’t remember what Logan had been like before the accident—he was a year ahead of me, so our paths rarely crossed—but I couldn’t forget what he was like after. I’d witnessed a few of his infamous hallway scuffles before he was finally suspended from school. Sometimes all it took was a sideways glance from someone and he’d launch into an attack, slamming bodies against lockers or pummeling people with his fists. But seeing him now, his face relaxed and thoughtful, it was hard to imagine the temper-filled version of him from
the previous year.
Not that anyone could blame him for being angry.
Logan and his brother were only a year apart from each other, so they must have been really close. And what happened was horrible. Logan was at the party with his brother that night, and according to the rumors, he let his brother drive home—even though he was clearly wasted—so that Logan could hang out with some senior chick. They say his brother barely made it five blocks before he wrapped his car around a telephone pole.
We stood toward the back of the swaying crowd where there was more space, but Logan still inched his way toward me until his arm touched mine. His skin was warm, and the soft hairs of his forearms tickled as he bobbed his head to the music.
You’re supposed to be looking for Justin, a small voice reminded me, but the music and the warmth of Logan’s skin kept me rooted in place. I let the voice melt into the melody for a few more songs. I wanted to complete my Justin mission, but I enjoyed the content feeling I had standing so close to Logan.
“You might want to take Sunny home.” Mark sidled up next to me as the band completed another song to a surge of shouts and whistles. He jutted his chin in the direction of the barstool Sunny was perched on. “She looks pretty toasted.”
I let out a groan when I saw her. Her head lolled back and forth, and she leaned against the mustached pervert I previously mistook for Justin. His hands were wrapped around her waist, and even from across the club I could tell his pervy eyes sized her up like she was a prime piece of steak.
Not again.
I offered Mark an annoyed “Thanks” before heading over to the bar to rescue her. The spot where Logan’s arm met mine still tingled from the contact.
“Let her go. I can take it from here,” I said to the mustached molester. He laughed, exposing his jagged yellow teeth like they were a prize. I shoved his hands off her and maneuvered Sunny away, shooting a poisonous look at the mustached creep and all of the other men at the bar waiting for an opportunity to pounce on her.
“Heeeya, Taylor!” Sunny slurred, her eyes struggling to focus on my face. “Where ya been hiding?” She stumbled against me, so drunk she couldn’t stand in one place. “Didja find Justin? Were you justin time to find Justin?” She laughed at her joke, shooting a string of spittle across her chin. “Can we go now? This band sucks. It sounds like shitty Halloween music. WooOOOOoooOOO.” She wiggled her fingers in front of her in an effort to look spooky and slipped out of my grasp, stumbling backward.
“Here, let me help you.” Logan walked toward us and slung Sunny’s arm over his shoulder.
“Heeeya. I know you. You’re that guy whoz brother died.” Sunny darted a finger toward Logan’s face and brushed it along the edge of his jaw. “I remember him 'cause he was really cute. Didn’t you try to kill yourself afterwards or something like that?”
Logan tightened his grip on Sunny and gave her a shake, his flinty eyes narrowing as he glared at her. “Shut up,” he spat, a hard edge entering his voice. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Sunny’s chin knocked against her chest when he shook her again, and she let out a small whimper.
“Stop it, you’re hurting her,” I shouted over the music as I tried to pry Sunny out of his angry hands. His eyes were wild and wide, and I was reminded of his short-tempered reputation, but when he met my gaze his face softened, and as quickly as the rage appeared, it was gone.
“I’m sorry.” He stepped away from Sunny and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what came over me. Did I hurt you, Sunny? Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
Sunny let out a belch and shrugged. “Can we go home now?” She pouted her lower lip and attempted to walk forward, but I had to hold her so she wouldn’t stumble.
Logan took a tentative step in her direction, his hands poised to help again. I gave him a curt nod to let him know it was okay, but watched him closely out of the corner of my eye.
As we shuffled Sunny out of the smoke-filled club toward The Bee, he murmured encouraging words and kept his hand perched on the small of her back. I didn’t know how he remained so patient, especially given the way he’d previously snapped at her.
“Sunny, would you get in the damn car?” I was beyond irritated at that point. Every time we almost had her seated, she’d jump up and try to bop Logan on the nose, playing a drunken game of whack-a-mole with his face. “Sit down, for crap sake.”
She finally slumped into the seat, pouting back at me as I clicked her seatbelt into place. I slammed the door before she could make another escape attempt.
“Thanks for your help.”
“Don’t mention it.” Logan followed me to the driver’s side and closed the door once I was seated. “It was nice bumping into you. Maybe we can do it again sometime?” Before I could answer, he leaned into the window and brushed his lips against my cheek. “You should drive in the right lane—she’s going to puke any minute.”
He turned on his heel before I could react, my cheek still prickling from the kiss.
“Strange guy, huh?” I looked at Sunny for support, but she hadn’t noticed the interaction. She was too busy fighting with the seat recliner.
We were barely onto the highway when I heard gurgling noises coming from her throat and saw her fingers struggling to find the window button.
I managed to pull The Bee over just in time for Sunny to open the passenger door and puke the bazillion shots she’d consumed onto the pavement, the contents of her stomach splashing in a heavy stream against the highway.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she said when she finished, leaning against the frame of the car door to steady herself.
“You just were.” I couldn’t keep the hard edge of impatience from my voice. I was pissed beyond belief. I hated when she did this. Not just because I suspected it was all for attention, but because she was forcing me to drive on the highway knowing full and well that it terrified me. It was my mom’s fault—her complete lack of faith in me meant she rarely let me borrow her car, and on the rare occasions she did, I was forbidden from driving anywhere interesting. As a result I was a terrible, under-practiced driver.
“I’m sorry I ruined your big night.” She slid back into the passenger seat and let out an alcohol-fueled burp. I ignored her and rolled down my window to dispel the scent of vomit and cigarettes that clung to her hair. “Please don’t hate me. You can’t hate me. You’re my only real friend.”
“Please, you have plenty of friends. Don’t be so dramatic.” I concentrated on the black and white lines of the highway, attempting to keep the car steady while my hands clung desperately to the steering wheel. The horrific smell of puke filling the interior of the car made it nearly impossible to think.
“He won’t even look at me,” she whispered, turning her head toward the window so she could stare up at the half-circle of the moon like it held the answers. “He says I look just like her. But he hates her. Do you think that means he hates me too?”
She was talking about her father, and I sucked in a breath. Sunny rarely talked about her father.
“No, he doesn’t hate you, Sunny. He’s just still sad about your mom leaving.”
“Do you think I look like her?” She angled her face toward mine so I could get a better look.
“Yes,” I answered honestly. It was a long time ago, but my memory of Sunny’s mother was as crisp as a photograph: long coppery hair, wide smiling mouth, skin that glowed from the inside out. She was a sun and everyone else was meant to orbit around her. Sunny was her mother in every way.
“I haven’t heard from her in three years,” Sunny said quietly. “Not even on my birthday. It’s like she disappeared.” She made a choked sound, as though the next word got stuck on its way out of her mouth. When she turned back to look at me her face was somber. “Promise me you won’t leave me, too.” She grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know I can be a real bitch sometimes, but I don’t mean it. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
&nbs
p; I swallowed thickly, trying to push back my anger from the evening’s events.
“I promise.” It was so like Sunny to find a way to eclipse my anger.
“Can we swing by my house so I can walk Miss Violet Beauregard? She gets lonely, and I’m the only one who looks after her. She needs me.”
“She’ll be fine. It’s only one night.” My voice was tight and filled with warning. As it was, my mother would be pissed because I didn’t call to let her know we were heading home, and I wasn’t about to release a hand from the steering wheel for fear of veering off the road. Besides, that dog was a cockroach. Between the doggy door and automated food and water dispensers littering the house, she could survive Armageddon without ever needing another human. In fact, she looked like she already had—she was easily the ugliest, meanest creature I had ever met. I never understood what it was Sunny loved so much about that dog.
“You can walk her in the morning,” I added so Sunny wouldn’t protest further.
My mom was ready to launch into a lecture when I walked through the front door. Her hands were perched on her hips and a familiar scowl deepened the line between her eyebrows.
She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it once she caught sight of Sunny’s unsteady eyes and barf-covered shirt.
“Oh, you poor dear. I’ll get you some water,” she said to Sunny, watching as I struggled to get her into the house. Then she leaned in and whispered to me, “Why don’t you soak her shirt in the sink so we can wash it in the morning?” Like she didn’t want to hurt Sunny’s feelings by telling her how disgusting she looked.
I tried not to let my mom see my irritation, focusing instead on getting Sunny up the stairs without breaking something. If I came home drunk and puke-covered, I’d never get a sympathetic oh, you poor dear from my mom, let alone a glass of water. But when it came to perfect Sunny, all was forgiven. Sometimes I wondered if my mom ended up with the wrong daughter.
“I’m really sorry about tonight,” Sunny muttered after I’d finally gotten her cleaned up and under the covers of my trundle bed. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Will you forgive me?”
Where the Staircase Ends Page 4