by C. E. Wilson
***
“I want to go home.”
“Stop being a baby, baby,” Mauve joked into my ear.
The music pulsed, and she wrapped a long leg around my hips to keep me interested, but I was so over it at that point. I wanted to go home and go to bed. I didn’t give a shit whether she came with me or not. The place smelled like vodka and cheap perfume. It smelled like sex and arousal, and it certainly didn’t seem to be coming from me.
Mauve lowered her leg, still swaying her hips to the music. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem is that I told you I didn’t want to be here. I only wanted to be with you.”
“Well guess what, baby? This is a part of me. And if you’re going fuck me…you’re going to have to deal with other parts of me. If you’re over us…there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”
I frowned. I didn’t want that. I wanted to go home, but I saw her attention wavering. I knew that look—the e was starting to kick in. She’d hump a fire hydrant at that point. If I left now…who knows what she would do?
“Fine,” I growled, grabbing her hips and placing her under my chin where she belonged. “Can we at least go upstairs? It’s too hot down here.”
Her smile returned, looking up at me with her glassy eyes. Oh damn…the night was going to be a long one. “That’s the spirit, baby. Take me. Take me there!”
“Upstairs,” I grunted, tugging her through the crowd. “You know I mean upstairs, don’t you?”
“I don’t care,” she called behind me, air humping wherever her hips could reach. “Take me wherever you want to go.”
“That’s the plan,” I muttered, knowing full well the exact opposite was true. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have been there in the first place. We’d be at home in bed, or on the kitchen floor, or on top of her small dining table.
Once we were safely on the second level, I tried to relax a bit. At least air was circulating up here. The whole place felt a little more private, a little more intimate. I told Mauve I was going to get her something to drink—ideally water, to settle her down. I didn’t like the idea of leaving her, but I wanted to trust her. Even though every bone in my body told me that I shouldn’t—I did anyway.
As I was ordering the drinks, I stole a look up at the second level. Mauve was there at the railing, smiling and grinding against anything she could find. Jesus. She was a handful. I shook my head, not sure whether to be proud or ashamed for calling her mine. She waved down at me.
Proud. I was fucking proud to take that girl home that night.
Then something poked or pinched her from behind, making her jump with surprise. My eyes widened. I hoped no one was touching my girl…oh…she was laughing. Must be a friend. As the bartender slid me my drinks and I tipped him, I looked upstairs again to see who she was talking to, and my heart almost stopped.
Emmett fucking Sutherland.
That guy would be present to try to fuck up my night. I’m sure Mauve had posted to the entire world about what she was doing, so I couldn’t blame a guy for trying, but this wasn’t just any guy. Emmett Sutherland was her ex, her twenty-five-year-old ex. What the hell was a twenty-five-year-old history teacher doing at a place like that anyway? Didn’t he have something else to do? My face grew hotter and hotter as I stormed up the stairs, anxious to stake my claim.
Emmett was standing over her. He was tall, not nearly as tall as me, but he wasn’t lanky. He was built like a man. He was probably the type of teacher girls flirted with in hopes that his desire to fuck outweighed his desire to follow the rules. And he was standing behind my Mauve.
“What’s going on here?” I asked innocently but still loud enough to let them know I had seen their little moment. “Emmett, don’t you have some homework to grade?”
He flashed me his annoying million-dollar smile. “Mr. Davenport, don’t you have some homework to do?” he asked in a teasing voice. My blood boiled as Mauve laughed, and Emmett placed a hand on her shoulder. “Still banging the babies, Mauve? I thought you knew better now.”
“Whatever,” Mauve slurred. “He’s great in bed.”
“Better than me?” he asked huskily.
“No one’s better than you…”
“Enough,” I said, setting down my drinks on the nearest table. “Mauve, seriously. We need to get you home. You’re slurring, and you can barely stand straight.” I started to reach for her but she shoved me away.
“Fuck off, baby face!” she screamed. “I’m having a good time here.”
“Yeah, man.” Emmett came to her side again—too close. “She’s having a good time. Most of us are adults here.” He chuckled again. “Relax. If you want to go, go ahead. I’ll take care of her.”
“I bet you will,” I muttered.
“Bet your ass I will,” Emmett said back.
After looking at Emmett’s eyes closely, I realized something. Not only was Mauve messed up out of her mind, Emmett wasn’t far behind her. He had that same glassy, red-eyed look. I didn’t know what it was from. It could have been from a number of things. All I knew was that the two of them being that uninhibited wasn’t a good sign. Mauve wasn’t going to let me take her out of here without making a scene. And that stupid teacher seemed to be set on keeping her there as well.
“I’m taking her home,” I told Emmett with all my courage.
“The fuck you are,” Mauve slurred.
“Yeah, fuck you.” Emmett lost a bit of his coherence as well.
I smelled pot on his breath, but that couldn’t be the only thing he was on if he was talking like that.
“Get outta here before I beat you up. Mauvey…” he growled, “tell your baby to leave before I have to give him a spanking.”
“Malcolm,” Mauve said, “you should really go. I’ll be okay. Emmett’ll take care…” she smiled up at me, “take care of me.”
Oh. Sweet. Jesus. “Mauve,” I said, “you’ll regret the way you’re acting tomorrow. You always do…”
“Oh, knock it off!” Emmett roared, lunging toward me. He was sloppy, so I was easily able to move out of the way.
I almost wanted to laugh at him—at the both of them—but people were starting to stare.
“She’s fine. Let her live a little! How’d you even get in here anyway?”
“Baby has a fake ID,” Mauve purred. My stomach clenched as I saw the woman I loved and lusted after snaking her arm around Emmett’s thick waist. “Just report ’im. Then they’ll take him out.”
“Shit, Mauve…” I watched with horror as Emmett’s face lit up. He had a chance to kick me out. My girlfriend was actually giving him the green light to sneak back into her life. “You don’t mean that.”
“I mean every word!” she said, raising her voice again. She managed to peel herself away from Emmett and stumbled toward me. I held my ground, lowering my chin as she proceeded to tap my sternum with her thick acrylic nails several times. “Go, baby. If I’m too much for you—”
“It’s not—”
“If I’m too much for you—”
“Mauve, you’re all sorts of fucked up. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
“We’re done.” She smiled up at me with those bleary, glassy eyes. “You? Me? Finished. Pick your shit up tomorrow. Not too early though, because I might have company.”
I took a step backward. No. She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t mean it. We’d had fights that were so much worse than that, but never anything that a night in bed couldn’t fix. She was high. “Mauve. Sweetie—”
“She said get out, bro.” Emmett stepped in front of me. Mauve moved to the side and proceeded to continue her seduction of the air. She probably had no idea what she had just said to me. Or maybe she didn’t care. That still didn’t mean that I owed Emmett anything. I didn’t deserve shit from him.
“Back up…” I said, trying to get to the stairs. If Mauve wanted to act like that, I would let her. Knowing her usual behavior, she’d be calling me in t
ears the next morning and telling me she had a drug problem. She knew she had one, but she was too scared to let her parents find out. She’d say I was the only one she actually trusted. Blah blah blah. The routine was all too familiar. At that point, I couldn’t take anything she was saying seriously. I gave Emmett a light shove as he refused to get out of the way.
“Chill out,” Emmett said calmly. “Don’t take it out on me because you’re a little too immature for the lady—”
“What?” I interrupted him. My temperature rose. The music was too loud. My nose couldn’t detect anything but some sandy ocean cologne wafting off Emmett’s skin, mixed in with pot. My stomach gurgled as the room spun. “What the hell did you say?”
“I said you’re being immature,” Emmett said again.
“I’m being immature? You’re here at a club for college students who’ve just turned twenty-one, trying to hit on someone’s girlfriend while you’re high. You’re calling me immature?” I leaned down in his face slightly to remind him that though I was built like a string bean, I still had a good three or four inches on him. “That’s a laugh,” I said. “Bro.”
Something ignited in his red eyes, and he tried to push me again. As I took a step back, he only stumbled forward, his face close to matching the color of his eyes.
“Fuck you,” he called. “Baby.”
Baby. That asshole was calling me baby? He was chest-to-chest with now, spitting the word into my face. I could feel the anger boiling in my veins as I struggled to control it. I looked at Mauve, laughing with two young guys I had never even seen her with before. She didn’t actually care about me or Emmett at all! All she cared about was the damn attention! I blinked. I could feel dark clouds settling over my vision and in an almost reflex action, I lunged forward with all my might and pushed that stupid motherfucker out of my face.
He stumbled on something. I didn’t know what. It could have been beer, a condom, his own shoes…I didn’t know, but his face changed when his foot slipped out from under him. For the first time, he looked genuinely frightened as he lost control of his body, stumbling toward the railing. The music kept pulsing loudly, and only a few people were paying attention—including Mauve. She shouted Emmett’s name.
I rushed forward to stop him from falling over. I think his shirt slipped through my fingers as they closed. I didn’t know. Maybe that was something I told myself to feel better. It wasn’t enough. I cried out at the same time Mauve screeched at the top of her lungs. She was calling his name, calling out my name, calling out for God.
I saw his legs right as they disappeared over the railing.
And then the noise. I remember that horrible noise when he hit the floor. The sound let everyone know immediately that whoever had made it wouldn’t be getting up again. The dancing in that area of the club stopped immediately, and crowds gathered around him, and Mauve rushed over to me, punching and slapping me sloppily. I remember she called me a murderer. She said I killed him. She said it was my fault. I stood there dumbfounded as the music stopped and the lights came on. I didn’t even try to run.
What would have been the point?
I had pushed him. Only a few people had seen it happen, but I knew. It had been my fault. I had done it.
Swallowing, I went to check over the edge of the railing. Some kinder people tried to hold me back, begging me not to look, but I shrugged them away. I had to see. I had to see what I had done. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe the acoustics in the club had made it sound worse than it actually was.
I leaned over…there was red on the dance floor below.
So much red.
Chapter Eleven
“That’s enough,” Verity said in a small voice. “You don’t have to tell me anymore.”
I lowered my head. Even to that day, I was ashamed. My family’s expensive lawyer had gotten me a plea deal for involuntary manslaughter, but to me, there was nothing involuntary about it. I wasn’t high, and I’d barely been drinking. I was in full possession of myself. I shouldn’t have let Emmett stir me up. I shouldn’t have let him in. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get to me. And I should have never, never put my hands on him. Over and over again, I replayed the scene in my mind. What could I have done differently? What could have prevented that from happening?
I could have stopped it! I could have stopped everything! I should have stayed home. I should have begged Mauve to stay home with me. I should have offered her anything in the world to keep her there in the apartment with me. I should have pretended that I’d lost my ID. I could have danced with her more. I could have not taken her to the second floor. Oh God, the things I could have done differently.
But I hadn’t, and now nothing could be changed. Every action of mine that night had been a brushstroke. The picture they made was perfectly clear. Emmett Sutherland, age twenty-five, social studies teacher at Winsor high school, engaged, with an infant daughter was dead. And I had killed him.
“You didn’t kill him,” Verity’s voice came softly again.
I glanced over at her with wide eyes. “What are you, a mind reader?” My voice was a little sharp, but I was frustrated. I couldn’t control my temper all the time, and it wasn’t fair that I should be expected to. In that moment, I hated Verity. I hated that she was a woman. I hated that she was so small. I hated that she was so beautiful. I wished I had a big, ugly oaf of a man with me so he could take my punches until I was so weak I would fall into a ball and cry like a baby.
Once again, that wasn’t the case. I tried to soften my look.
“I mean, what the hell are you talking about?” I stabbed a piece of haddock and shoved it into my mouth. “You heard the story. I pushed him. He fell over the railing. He fell headfirst, Verity. They say he died instantly. There was so much blood—”
“I don’t need to hear about that.”
“That’s part of it,” I said with my mouth full. “Sometimes I wish I had let someone pull me back when I went to look at him.” I flinched, and my memories overtook me for a minute. I remembered seeing his misshapen head at that strange angle. Oh…oh, God. I quickly rose from my chair, sprinted over to the door, threw it open, and began heaving into the grass. All the haddock was now on the ground with most of what else I had eaten that day. I glanced back over my shoulder to see if Verity had moved, but she remained still and quiet on the table. She knew when to push me and when to let go. I supposed that was a good quality because I had always pushed Mauve, and she always pushed back. It was a screwed-up balance, and for the most part it worked.
Until I killed her ex-boyfriend.
I slammed the door as I came back inside and pushed aside the rest of my fish. Instead, I sat down heavily in the chair where Verity usually slept, crushing her little blanket. I didn’t care. I put my hand on my head as it started to pound so fiercely I could barely hear myself breathe.
Verity tried to speak after a few minutes. “Malcolm, I—”
“Not now,” I said sharply over her. “Not now, okay, Verity? I need some time to myself.”
She fell silent. And though I could finally hear my heart calming down, I didn’t hear Verity’s voice again. In the silence, she finished her portion of fish and then fluttered to the kitchen. The plate fell heavily in my makeshift sink as she set it down.
Why did she have to be so good—so good that she made me feel tainted?
Probably an hour or so had gone past as I drifted between sleep and wakefulness when I finally lifted my head. Verity was sitting on the table facing the window, knees pulled up to her chest. I wondered what was going on in that head of hers. Was she planning to leave? Would she even ask, or would she try to escape?
I cleared my throat awkwardly, and she shifted but didn’t fully turn around. “Verity, I…” My words fell over themselves as she turned slightly toward me. I could see her profile caught in the sun setting outside the window. She really did look like a fairy. And I sure as hell didn’t deserve to have her. “Verity, if you want to go, I wouldn’t
hold it against you.”
“Go?” she asked, her outline unmoving.
“Go,” I said again. “Like leave. Get out of here. I wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to leave. I only ask…” I put my hand up to my face again. “I just ask that you tell me. I want to know if you’re going to be okay and—”
“Malcolm,” she said firmly. My mouth fell shut immediately as the foot-tall woman slid around to face me. Her legs were crossed, and her face was strong, stoic. I noticed a light in her eyes. “I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not the type to turn my back on someone because he made a mistake. At least I hope I was that way before I became like this.”
“It wasn’t a mistake—”
“It was!” she yelped over me. “I heard what you said. Malcolm, you lunged for him. You tried to save him. It was an accident.”
“An accident I caused.”
“An accident nonetheless! Malcolm, that guy sounded like a drugged-out loser.”
I didn’t bother to remind her that Emmett was teacher – responsible for the education of today’s youth. “So that means he deserved to die?”
She winced. “Well…no. Of course not. No one deserves to die.”
“So what are saying? Are you saying that somehow you think I’m still okay? That you’re not going to look at me differently? Dammit, Verity. I killed someone. Accident or not, I was the one who pushed him. No push, nothing happens. Yes push, he died. And now my ex won’t even talk to me, and my family wants nothing to do with me, and now I’m stuck with some little creature who doesn’t even understand what the hell I’m talking about because she’s just a soul in a body or whatever.” I buried my face back into my hands, feeling sorry for myself. I had thought that talking about things might make it easier, but as usual, I had been completely wrong. Things hurt more. I could feel Verity’s judgmental little eyes locked on me as I sniffed up a few angry tears.