Sell Out

by Tammy L. Gray

  Her head tilted, that playful look I loved magnified by a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You should be.”

  She swung the door open, and we stepped into what I guess could be called a foyer. High ceilings, huge chandelier, marble floors. Every inch was immaculate. My mom could probably rattle off the names of every item, but my mind summed it up into one cold reality—I was about to meet Donnie Wyld.

  My hand tightened in hers.

  “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered.

  I leveled a stare. “Are you kidding me?”

  She giggled, and we walked into a living room. The large leather couches and huge T.V. were almost enough to make the room seem ordinary, except for the black and silver guitar placed on its stand in the corner. The red “W” with one edge an eagle’s wing meant this was Donnie Wyld’s signature piece. That guitar posed in every picture, went on every tour, and now I was within two feet of touching the iconic instrument. My hands itched, the fan in me fighting every instinct to reach out.

  I looked at Skylar, trying to see the fun girl at the park or the girlfriend I’d kissed dozens of times. But all I could see was Donnie Wyld’s daughter.

  “Skylar?” A voice called from the distance.

  “In here, Dad.”

  I dropped her hand and put at least three feet between us while my eyes watched the door in terrified anticipation. Then he appeared and sucked all the air out of the room.

  I scanned the man who filled the doorway, the surrounding halo of light a perfect fit for the introduction of a rock legend. Skylar was right. He was thin, his face slightly more pale than I expected. But nothing about this man in front of me seemed weak.

  My pulse raced faster than the band’s Grammy winner, “Road to Oblivion.”

  He glanced between us before putting out a hand. I stared at it. That hand could do things on a guitar that weren’t human. I’d been reduced to a blubbering fan, my own hand trembling as it met his firm shake.

  “Donnie Wyld. Nice to meet you, Cody.” His tone matched the hard set of his eyes.

  I willed my mind to work. “Yes, sir,” I croaked. “I’m your biggest fan. I have all your music. Your guitar riff in “Sanctuary” was so insane, I wanted to cry.” Did I really just say that? “I mean, if I was the type to cry that is.”

  He stared at my hand, still gripped in his, and I released, mentally kicking myself for sounding like a teenage girl at a Taylor Swift concert.

  “Thank you. I heard you’re quite a fan of my daughter’s, too.”

  I suddenly remembered Skylar, my head jerking in her direction. Her shoulders were shaking, her teeth practically biting a hole in her bottom lip as she tried to hold back her laughter. I shot her a desperate look, but she didn’t come to my rescue. She seemed to be enjoying this moment.

  “Yes, sir.” What else was I supposed to say? Tell him I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen? That when I kissed her, my body exploded in a way I only thought possible in movies? That her smile not only lit up the room, but changed my entire outlook on the day? Yeah, that would go over like a brick wall.

  Donnie leaned in and whispered something in her ear that made the laugh she was holding come out with a snort. Her hand flew to her mouth as her cheeks flushed, and she pushed her dad away with a warning look.

  I could only imagine what he said to her in that moment, but I was sure it wasn’t flattering to me. Jamming my hands into my pockets, I tried to think of anything to say that wasn’t idiotic.

  Suddenly Skylar’s arm was around my waist and, by instinct, I pulled her in, leaning over to smell her herbal shampoo that she had told me was called Jasmine. Whatever the name, I didn’t care. As if on cue, my heartbeat slowed, my unease spun away like a musical note in a windstorm.

  “Cody’s one of the few people at my school who still appreciates quality music. He’s like Wikipedia. Give him a title, and he can name the album and the band.” Her proud, affectionate words came with a squeeze.

  Donnie crossed his arms. “Good to know. We’re working on a new cut. It would be nice to get an opinion from someone your age. Especially if you have an ear for music.”

  My mouth dropped open as if a genie had just granted me one wish. “I’d be honored, sir. Really, wow. That would be…wow.”

  Skylar nudged me, a clear sign I was sounding star-struck again. “We should go eat,” she said.

  Pulling myself together, I let her lead me to the food. We passed a grand dining room that could easily seat an army, but ended up at a small round kitchen table.

  The smell of roasted chicken and potatoes filled the air as Skylar poured each of us a glass of lemonade. If I wasn’t so nervous, I’d be starving, but the rocks that lined my stomach like a retaining wall pretty much killed my appetite.

  “So, Skylar tells me you’re the captain of the wrestling team.” The statement was an invitation to tell him about myself. He took a bite of his chicken, carefully chewing as he waited for a response.

  I rubbed my sweating hands on my jeans. “Yes, sir.”

  “Cody won state last year,” Skylar volunteered, sending me a proud look.

  Her dad raised an impressed brow. “Really. You must be pretty good then. Have you been doing it for a long time?”

  “No, sir. Just a couple of years. During the spring of my sophomore year, I started training with Matt Holloway. He’s a genius in the ring. I walked on last year just hoping to make the team. I had no idea we’d go to state.”

  He finished chewing and took a drink. “How is this year going? Will there be a repeat?”

  Immediately, my shoulders fell, my mood following them. “Not sure yet. We’re not the same team we were last year.” That was the understatement of the century. My position as captain was a joke. The team had turned on me, making practices strained and unproductive. Even Coach was losing faith in me.

  I glanced at Skylar, my lone cheerleader. “My first competition is this weekend. It’s in Greensboro. I’d really like Skylar to come if that’s okay with you.”

  He took a bite, continuing to chew slowly and watched me like a man preparing for a western showdown.

  “I’d be with my coach, so we wouldn’t be alone.” Nor would I disrespect him like that. “She could ride with Zoe, so she didn’t have to take the trip by herself. A lot of kids from school reserve a hotel room together.”

  His muscles tensed, his eyes darting to his daughter who watched in anticipation.

  I went in for the final push. “This tournament is critical if I want to wrestle in college. It would really mean a lot if she could be there to support me. You have my word, I won’t do anything to disrespect her or you.”

  He paused. I held my breath. And the moment of anticipation that followed stretched on like a road to nowhere.

  SKYLAR

  “I’ll have to think about it.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. I knew that tone. Daddy would let me go, but not until we’d had an eight-hour lecture on the subject. I tried to hide the huge grin that threatened to spread. My dad was playing tough guy, and I was enjoying seeing Cody squirm.

  “Skylar tells me that you’re the only one at school who has recognized her. Why do you think that is?”

  I kicked my father’s foot and gave him the don’t-go-there stare. He ignored me. My father had expressed his concern about Cody’s intentions, despite my reassurances.

  Cody swallowed his food and took a drink, his Adam’s apple moving slowly as he processed the question. “I don’t know, sir. I thought she looked familiar but didn’t put two and two together until I saw she used your wife’s maiden name. Most kids our age don’t get past downloading a song to iTunes, so they wouldn’t make the connection. But I love the history and the people behind a song as much as the music.”

  My father pursed his lips and I smirked. Score one for Cody.

  “And next year? What are your plans?”

  Now my father was just being cliché.

  “I’m looking
at a few wrestling programs. I’d like to stay close to this area, but I’m open to seeing what happens.” Cody sent me a smile that made my heart flutter.

  “Really? That’s good. Skylar’s got big plans too. She just applied to fashion school in Paris. ESMOD has a great program and she’s a shoo-in.”

  My dad slid his foot away before I could kick it again, but the damage was done.

  Cody set his fork down and focused all his attention my way. “You’re moving to Paris?” His voice didn’t sound right. It was too grainy, too high-pitched.

  I opened my mouth to say something, to justify my actions in some way. It wasn’t a serious application. My father made me send in my portfolio. Insisted that I shouldn’t let his illness stop my dreams.

  When I didn’t deny it, Cody slowly turned back to my dad. “That’s um…great.”

  My father continued his battery of questions for another twenty minutes. No subject was left untouched—school, home life, faith. Cody answered every one, but his posture had shifted and his smile was no longer natural.

  When my dad finally decided his interrogation was finished, he stood to clear the table. Cody gathered his plate and silverware and offered to help. I noticed he had eaten very little since my dad dropped the ESMOD bomb.

  “It’s a school night,” my dad reminded him. “Best you get on home.”

  “Oh, okay. Yes, sir.” Cody’s voice cracked and his ears reddened.

  My dad stood between the kitchen and our exit, shoulders square, legs spread, arms crossed. His attempt at intimidation made me want to burst into laughter. I couldn’t believe it was working on Cody, but the constant hands in and out of his pockets spoke volumes.

  “Cody. It was good talking to you.” My father’s hand shot out, clasping Cody’s again. “You understand that Skylar is my life. You hurt her and I will personally end yours.”

  “Dad!”

  Cody’s eyes practically overtook his face as my father squeezed his hand harder. They were close to the same height, my dad having only an inch on Cody, but in that moment, my dad resembled the gun-toting robot from The Terminator.

  “I understand, sir. Skylar is an amazing girl, and I would feel exactly the same way if I were her father.”

  That seemed to appease my dad and made me want to smother Cody with kisses. With his hand free, Cody nodded toward the foyer. I nudged my dad, getting him to let us pass and then walked Cody to the door.

  “When were you going to tell me about Paris?” he whispered, barely touching me.

  “I wasn’t. I can’t see past next week let alone next year.”

  “Is that how you feel about me, too?”

  “What? No. Of course not.” I reached out, put my hand on his arm. The muscles were tense, the bump of a vein hard against my fingertips. I’d never seen Cody so upset. He was generally the epitome of calm and controlled.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” I lengthened the word, wanting to say more, but not in range of my dad’s prying ears.

  The tension fell from Cody’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me know what your dad says about Greensboro.” With a platonic squeeze to my arm, he disappeared behind the door.

  I spun around to glare at my father. “Was that necessary?”

  He walked toward me, concern etched in the lines that spread from his eyes. “Yes. And after seeing the way you two look at each other, this next conversation is necessary too.” He pointed to the formal couch in the great room, the one with claw legs and hard cushions that he knew I hated. “Sit.”

  I rolled my eyes but did as he commanded. He took a seat on the coffee table in front of me, studying my face with disappointment. “How serious is this?”

  My finger moved to my mouth, my teeth gnawing my recently polished nail. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he practically spit out his food when I said Paris. This kid thinks you two have a future together.”

  When he eyed my half-chewed nail, I quickly dropped my hand. “Maybe we do. I like him. A lot.”

  He took a deep breath and clasped his hands. “Okaaay.” He said the word as if he was already thinking about his next statement. “In that case, it’s time we have the sex talk.”

  The blood drained from my face.

  “I know your tutor discussed the mechanics with you, so we won’t do that, but I doubt you understood hormones or desires at that point.”

  I wanted to die. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide under the table my father sat on.

  “Teenage boys think about sex a lot.”

  “Daddy, please stop.” My mortification was met with equal discomfort.

  “Do you think this is easy for me, Skylar? You don’t think I wish your mother was here to have this chat? But she isn’t, so I’m what you’ve got.”

  I put my head in my hands, shaking it back and forth in hopes of removing the sound of my father’s words as he continued to discuss a boy’s hormonal mind.

  “The point is, Skylar, if a boy thinks he can get sex, he will more than likely try to. Especially if he likes a girl as much as Cody obviously likes you. So, it’s important you let him know right away that you have boundaries and what they are. A good guy will respect them, and a guy who doesn’t needs to be dropped.”

  “Okay, I got it. Can I go now?”

  He went on as if I never spoke. “I know your generation takes sex lightly, thinks the idea of waiting for marriage is archaic. God doesn’t give commands to torture us. He gives them to protect us.”

  My father removed my hands from my face, replacing them with his, so he could look into my eyes.

  “This is important. I saw the way you touched, the familiarity that’s there. As your closeness grows, you will continue to move forward physically. You need to understand that when sex enters a relationship, the relationship changes, and you can’t take it back.”

  Despite my absolute loathing of the conversation, I took pity on father. “I understand. And I do plan to wait ’til I’m married.”

  He sighed with relief, looking as if he aged ten years during that conversation. “Good.” One hand fell away. The other stroked my cheek. “You’ve grown into a smart and beautiful woman. You’re almost eighteen, and the truth is, if you wanted to take the next step, there is little I can do or say to stop you. But I do hope you wait.”

  “I will. Now can we please stop talking about this?”

  He chuckled. “Okay.”

  I stood, ready to leave the room.

  “Skylar?”

  I froze, wincing at what else my father could possibly say to me.

  “If you want to go this weekend, you can. Just, please, promise me you won’t put yourself in a situation where you’re alone with no accountability. Hormones tend to trump good intentions.”

  I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you! And I promise. No compromising situations.”

  I practically danced up the stairs while I texted.

  Me: Get ready to kick some butt. I’m going to Greensboro!

  CODY

  “You’re awful chipper this morning,” Lindsay said as she turned the knob on her combination lock. She wore all black again, covering every possible inch of skin, and it bugged me. She used to wear bright colors and dresses.

  “I met Skylar’s dad last night.”

  “Yeah? How’d that go?”

  I shuddered, remembering. “Terrifying, but he did say Skylar could go to the Super 32, so the threats were worth it.”

  Her lips tipped up a centimeter, which is more than they’d done in a week. I counted it a positive. “Getting serious, I see. Way to go.”

  She was my biggest cheerleader when it came to Skylar. It seemed to make her feel better, being able to focus on someone’s life besides her own.

  I leaned back against the lockers. “I’m way past serious.”

  A flash of green caught my eye as at least a hundred fake one-dollar bills fell out of Lindsay’s locker. I picked one up. Both sides were marred with blood red marker that re
ad, “WHORE.”

  My muscles tightened like ropes stretched to their breaking point. “This has to stop. You have to say something.” I glanced toward her locker and saw a metal stick made to look like a stripper’s pole wedged in there as well.

  “It’s fine.” She pulled out the offending piece and tossed it into the nearest trash can. “I’d rather this than the phone calls.”

  “What phone calls?”

  “At least ten a day. I swear I’ve blocked a million numbers.” She didn’t elaborate, but I could only imagine.

  Squatting down, she frantically scooped up the bills lining the floor in front of her locker.

  I crouched next to her and stopped her manic cleanup. “Lindsay, who has your locker combination?”

  Her movement stilled and teary eyes met mine. “I don’t know. Who had yours? Don’t you see? It’s never going to stop.”

  “It will if you would just tell someone.” The chill in my voice was a small reflection of the anger coursing through me. I wanted to scream, punch and kick the locker, do anything to stop her being a target of this hatred.

  “What? Like you did sophomore year?”

  I hated that she knew. That she had been a part of the Torments List’s exclusive group and had seen the pictures. “That was different.”

  “How?”

  I was suddenly in that dark locker room again, the cold floor hard against my naked back. Helpless. Hopeless. Pain gripped my chest, and I willed the image away. I never told a soul. Never turned in the guy who terrorized me for years. “Because I won’t let it happen again. I won’t cower to another bully.”

  Lindsay touched my arm. “Please, Cody. Don’t say anything. It will just get worse.”

  Obnoxious laughter came from above, and some kid I didn’t recognize stood over us, his arms crossed. “I heard this is where we come for lap dances. I guess I’ll have to get in line.”

  Lindsay disappeared in my furious haze. So did the fluorescent lights that flickered and the squeak of shoes pounding down the halls. Only his laughter remained. Laughter that matched the echoes in the locker room. Laughter that stopped the minute my fist struck his jaw.