Off The Cards: Faking it #2

by Chloe Walsh

  "SO, HOW IS SCHOOL GOING?" Mom asked when I came downstairs to grab a drink.

  I wanted to scream into her face and call her names I'd only read about, but I refrained and managed, "fine," instead. Mom's lack of knowledge of my attendance was a testament to her horrible parenting skills. She hadn't even noticed my absences. The school more than likely hadn't contacted her or dad, either. I guess it was amazing what a fat check and a powerful name could buy you in this town.

  I watched from the refrigerator as my mother fetched herself a plate of whatever-the-heck-it-was she had cooked before walking over to the island and taking a seat.

  She didn’t ask if I wanted some and I didn’t make an issue of it either. Instead, I pulled out one of the dinners I had prepped for myself and grabbed a fork.

  It used to make me sad; standing in a room with my mother and having her ignore me. Now, all I felt was disgust and gratitude. Now I was glad she didn’t love me or pretend to enough to make forced conversation. It was a sad truth, but a truth all the same.

  Shaking my head, I took one last glimpse at my mother before walking away.

  "Where are you going?" Mom asked when I was halfway out the kitchen doorway.

  "My room," I replied.

  "Don’t make a mess on my carpet," she shot back and I had to force myself to bite my tongue. What the heck did she think I was; a toddler?

  Bitch.

  ****

  "CAN I TALK TO YOU?" I asked later on that night as I stood in Jackson's bedroom doorway, feeling like a scolded child. He was lying on his bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, his square jaw clenched tight, fists balled at his sides. When he didn’t reply, I added, "You don’t have to say a word," before stepping inside. "I'll do all the talking." Closing his bedroom door, I walked slowly over to his bed and sank down at the end. "I'm sorry for lying to you."

  Nothing.

  "You lied to me too, Jackson."

  Again, no answer.

  "You didn’t tell me about Dad and Dallas."

  Not a peep.

  "Are you going to look at me when I speak to you?"

  "No."

  "Are you going to stay mad at me forever?"

  "Probably."

  "Then why'd you cover for me with mom?" I shifted uneasily. "Why'd you bring my bag home for me?"

  "Because I was a dick at lunch and you didn’t deserve it," Jackson shot back through clenched teeth. "And as for mom; she's a judgmental bitch who can't talk."

  "I'm sorry, okay? If I hurt you –"

  "You didn’t hurt me, Andi," Jackson interrupted, voice cold, not taking his eyes off the ceiling. "You hurt yourself." Folding his arms behind his head, he sighed heavily. "Or at least that's what's gonna happen." I watched his chest rise and fall. "If you keep fucking around with my best friend."

  "You are being like dad," I sighed wearily. "It's okay for you to chase after my best friend, but not for me?"

  "Damn fucking straight."

  "Double standards, Jackson."

  "Two words, little sister," he shot back. "Plan B."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah, oh!" He laughed harshly and it was a cruel sound. "Thought I'd forgot about that, didn’t you?" Jackson tsked in disgust. "What the hell would you have done if it hadn't worked, Andi?"

  "I don’t know." I hadn't thought that far ahead. "But it did work." I didn’t add in the fact that I had been less than careful with Nathan. Cheeks burning, I added, "It's over." Before it ever really started. "Nathan and I… We're… we've broken up."

  Jackson scoffed. "You believe that about as much as I do."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I'm not dumb, little sister." Again, Jackson sighed, and this time it sounded almost pained. "I know Nathan Cole like the back of my hand. If he's willing to go public with you, then he's invested in you."

  "Is that a bad thing?" I offered, my voice barely more than a whisper. On the outside I kept my features blank. Inside, I was dancing. Hearing the words Nathan and invested caused an aching warmth to spread through me. I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t feel it, but I did.

  "It's bad for you," Jackson replied flatly. "It will be bad when our dickhead dad finds out. Because he will find out, Andi. It's a small town and he's a big fucking deal around here."

  "Is that why you're so mad about us?" I asked. "Because you're worried about Dad?"

  "I'm mad at you for screwing my best friend," my brother snapped. "You're naïve. Nate knows better. But yes, Dad's another reason I'm pissed. You know what he's like when it comes to you, Andi. You know what he'll do if he even gets wind of Nate sniffing around you."

  "Nathan didn’t pressure me, Jackson," I heard myself say in defense. "If that's what you're thinking…"

  "No, I think it was pretty clear the other night that you didn’t need coercing."

  I ducked my head in shame. "Are you going to tell him?" I asked, gnawing nervously on my bottom lip.

  "If you're wanting to know if I'm gonna throw you under the bus to our scumbag parents, then no, Andi," Jackson grumbled. "I'm not. But I'm not covering for you either, girl. Stay away from Nate. Unless you wanna get shipped out of the state, that is."

  "Of course I don’t."

  "Then use your brain and stay away from him."

  "I already told you," I protested. "Nathan and I are finished."

  "Yeah, and I'm the man in the moon," Jackson scoffed sarcastically. "Get your ass out of my room and go to bed. I'm not done being mad with you yet."

  Closing Jackson's bedroom door behind me, I padded down the hallway to my room and slipped inside. The basket with all of my confiscated items was still on the floor and I found myself moving towards it.

  Reaching inside the laundry basket, I dug my cell out and rushed over to my desk before plugging it into its charger. Sinking down on my chair, I waited impatiently for it to fire up. Finally, the familiar apple appeared on the screen and I sighed in impatient relief.

  When there was enough charge to function, I padded in my four-digit password and stared down at my phone in confusion as it vibrated and beeped multiples times. Wow, Nate hadn't been joking around when he said he blew up my voicemail. There were over a dozen voicemails from him, and twice that amount in texts.

  Ignoring them for now, I concentrated on pulling up Ivy's number. Pressing the green button, I held the phone to my ear, hoping and praying she wasn’t so mad that she would block my calls.

  "Ivy, it's me," I blurted out when she finally answered on the seventh ring.

  "No shit," she shot back. "I do have your number in my phone, you know. It's stored under 'former best friend, current pain in my ass.'"

  I hung my head in shame. "I'm sorry, Ives."

  "Me, too," she said after a pause. "So, what's up? Are you okay?" She paused for a moment before adding, "I'm sorry about lunch today."

  "Yeah?" I bit down on my fingernail.

  "Yeah, I should have told Jackson to shut the hell up sooner. And I should have pulled the plug on the whole boyfriend, girlfriend, faking it scenario," she admitted. "I knew it was a bad idea from the get-go."

  We prattled on for another ten minutes or so, going back and forth about our horrendous love lives and who was to blame. Finally, when I had managed to work up the courage, I said, "Ivy, I need a favor."

  "Really, Andi?" Ivy sighed. "All I seem to be doing lately is favors for you."

  "This is important," I admitted. I didn’t want to sound desperate but there was a huge tint of desperation in my tone. "Please."

  "Fine," she grumbled. "What do you need?"

  I bit the bullet and said it. "I need you to come pick me up?" Holding my phone out in front of me, I checked the time on the screen, eight thirty-five, before putting it back to my ear. "As soon as you can."

  "Ooh!" Her voice lightened. "Are we having a girl's night out?"

  I grimaced. "No. Uh…I need you to drive me down to Riverside."

  "No," she exclaimed. "Uh-uh. No way. Aint happening. I
am not getting involved."

  "Ivy, please?" my voice sounded small and whiney. "This is important to me." I cleared my throat a couple of times before adding, "He's important to me."

  "And Jackson's important to me," my best friend swiftly countered. "I know he's acting like a dick to you right now, and I'm sorry for that, but no, Andi. I'm sorry, I can't."

  The calm and rational side of me felt terrible for putting her in a horrible position, but the part of me that was desperate to see Nate overrode all rationality inside of my brain. "Fine, I'll figure something else out."

  "Don’t do something dumb, Andi," Ivy warned just before I hung up the call, but it was too late for warnings. I was already typing out a message to Nate.

  To: Nate

  From: Andi

  Time: 20:41

  10-14-2016

  Message: I can’t get a ride to your place.

  Clicking send, my heart pounded in my chest as I drummed my fingers against my desk, feeling anxious and excited all at once.

  Less than a minute later, my phone pinged.

  To: Andi

  From: Nate

  Time: 20:42

  10-14-2016

  Message: Working ATM. Pick you up @ 11pm.

  Nodding to myself, I tapped out a quick message, blocking out the voice in my head that was telling me I had reached a new level of insanity.

  To: Nate

  From: Andi

  Time: 20:43

  10-14-2016

  Message: Okay. Thank you.

  Feeling silly for thanking him, I quickly erased that part of the message and typed C U then instead. That seemed slightly less pathetic than thank you.

  My phone pinged seconds later.

  To: Andi

  From: Nate

  Time: 20:43

  10-14-2016

  Message: You definitely will.

  To: Nate

  From: Andi

  Time: 20:45

  10-14-2016

  Message: I'll meet you at the end of the street. Jackson's home.

  To: Andi

  From: Nate

  Time: 20:47

  10-14-2016

  Message: Will do.

  Dropping my phone on the desk, I sagged back in my seat and exhaled a shaky breath before resuming staring at my phone. What the heck was I doing? This was crazy. I was being a total idiot. I shouldn’t go over there. Nothing he could tell me tonight could amend the mess he'd made of my heart.

  To: Andi

  From: Nate

  Time: 20:51

  Message: Stop overthinking. Meet me and I'll tell you everything.

  How could he do that?

  How did he know I was overthinking things?

  Swiping my phone off the desk, I tapped out a message.

  To: Nate

  From: Andi

  Time: 20:52

  Message: How did you know I was overthinking things?

  Ping.

  To: Andi

  From: Nate

  Time: 20:53

  Message: Because I know you.

  Huh.

  To: Nate

  From: Andi

  Time: 20:55

  Message: I thought you said you were at work. Why are you still texting me?

  Lame, but I didn’t know how else to respond to his last message.

  To: Andi

  From: Nate

  Time: 21:03

  Message: Because I love you.

  ****

  Chapter Six

  I FELT LIKE A CRIMINAL as I crept down the staircase later that night, tip-toeing through my house like a ghost in the night.

  Moving silently through the kitchen, I slipped out the back door and made my way over to the bushes to where years' worth of Jackson's debauchery antics had forged a trail.

  Squeezing through the branches, I stumbled onto our front yard and hunched low as I ambled down the driveway.

  My heart was hammering in my chest with every step I took.

  Excitement and adrenalin coursed through my veins.

  This was wrong.

  It was insanity on another level.

  And still, my feet were moving.

  Nate was there, at the end of the street. I could see his old Chevy in the distance, parked up outside the Greystone's house, looking as out of place on our street as it always had. I felt myself break into a run then, the urge to get to him pushing me forward.

  My heart was still hammering around in my chest when I reached the passenger side of Nate's big ole truck and yanked the door open.

  When my eyes locked on his face, a shot of pure pleasure rippled through me. He reached out a hand and yanked me up. "You came," he said, voice alluringly soft, almost seductive. "Thank you."

  Breathless from my first successful attempt at a breakout, I just about managed to nod in reply as I fastened my seat beat, all the while never taking my eyes off his.

  Nate looked just like he always did after a long night working at his brother in law's garage; tired, a little greased up, and irrefutably sexy. "Where do you wanna go?" he asked, eyes still locked on mine, spearing me. "I've got a half tank of gas and everything I need right here in this truck."

  Sweet baby Jesus…

  Calm down, I mentally chided myself. I was shaking like a leaf and every time he opened his mouth and spoke to me, another chink in my armor appeared. Shrugging, I clasped my hands on my lap. "I don’t care where you take me as long as I get some answers." The truth was, I needed Nate to start driving and stop looking at me like he wanted to do with me the exact same things I wanted to do with him…

  Clenching my thighs together, I felt an abundance of relief when the old engine of his Chevy roared to life. Focusing on the road ahead of us, I kept my posture rigid and my guard up high. Who knew what I was about to learn tonight. I had to remain in control of myself.

  Ryan Adam's Come Pick Me Up was playing softly from the truck stereo and I laid my head back against the tattered headrest, listening to the lyrics as they wrapped around my heart.

  Like me, Nate loved country music, but Alternative Kiss were always covering some rock band or others music.

  Nate sang along quietly to the radio and I felt myself smiling; his soothing, husky voice making me feel all warm inside. And then my mother's face popped into my mind and I forced myself to stop smiling.

  "Stop it," Nate's voice penetrated my thoughts.

  I turned to look at him. "Stop what?"

  He glanced sideways at me. "Overthinking."

  I sighed heavily. "I'll stop overthinking when you start explaining."

  Nodding somberly, Nate picked up speed, cruising quickly through the empty streets of downtown Springhill in the direction of downtown Riverside – or the Slums, as my father referred to the area.

  I grimaced in shame at the thought, but remained stoically silent until Nate pulled up outside his momma's trailer and killed the engine.

  Wordlessly, he swung his car door open and hopped out before jogging around to my side and opening my door, too.

  "Thank you," I mumbled as I hopped out, landing unsteadily on shaky legs.

  Forcing myself to be brave, I followed Nate up to the trailer and when he held the door open for me, I bashfully slipped inside. The trailer looked different from the last time I'd been here. For one, it was cleaner and the stench of stale cigarettes was dramatically less potent than just a few days ago.

  "Where's your mom?" I heard myself ask.

  "On one of her weeklong benders," Nate replied, closing the door behind him. "Haven't seen her since Thursday."

  That explained it.

  Nate was a neat freak; he kept himself, his bedroom, and the cab of his truck immaculate. Heck, even his handwriting was beautiful. Becky's absence around the place – and the notable improvement of hygiene in their trailer – only assured me that Nate's momma was the slob in the family.

  He walked to the small kitchenette and yanked open the tiny under the counter refrigerator.

 
"You thirsty?" Without waiting for me to answer him, Nate pulled out a can of soda and a bottle of still water before walking back to where I was still hovering at the door. "You can sit," he told me, gesturing towards the built-in pull out sofa. "It's no Ritz in here, but you won't catch anything."

  "I wasn’t afraid of catching anything," I quickly corrected. Except feelings. I was real afraid of catching more feelings for this boy. The ones I already had were too much.

  Trailing after Nate, I sank down on the sofa and accepted his offer of a bottle of water with trembling hands and a nervous disposition.

  "Okay," I announced warily as I rolled the bottle between my palms. "Let's get this over with."

  "I've never been more scared in my life," Nate blurted out then, stunning me. "Promise me, Andi." His brown eyes burned into mine. "Promise you'll try and understand."

  "I promise I'll keep an open mind," I offered. It was the best I could do in the moment and it seemed to mean a lot to Nate because he visibly sagged in relief.

  "Okay," he whispered, nodding to himself.

  "Okay," I repeated, mirroring his movements.

  "A few years back," he started by saying. "Your momma told me some stuff." I watched with my heart in mouth as Nate ran his hand through his hair and sat forward, legs spread, elbows resting on his overall covered thighs. "Some real fucked up shit, baby."

  I found myself moving closer to him. "What kind of stuff?" I folded my legs beneath me and leaned forward. "What was she saying, Nate?"

  "Shit that needed burying," he croaked out, not meeting my eye. "About Kim and… Callie."

  My brow shot up in surprise. "Your sister Kim?"

  Nate nodded but didn’t look at me. "Your momma was drunk as a skunk so I thought what she was saying, what she was claiming, was bullshit at first. But then I talked to Kim and I–" Breaking off mid-sentence, Nate hissed and rubbed his face with his hand. "Fuck, Andi, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, baby. But she's my niece! My flesh and blood… and Kim's all I've got." He turned and looked at me then, brown eyes flaring with desperation. "Kim was my momma and my daddy growing up, Andi. I had to do something. I had to at least try and help her protect her daughter. I had to protect her. Her marriage was at stake. Her life. Her goddamn everything was at stake."