by McKinley May
“Is it cool if I chill here?"
“Go ahead,” I say politely.
There. Internal dilemma solved.
“Sit your asses down!” Diego hollers as he shuts off the video game console with his toe. He squats down, a shiny disc in one hand. “I promised my ‘cuz we’d watch this. He wants an honest opinion, okay? Dude wants to go to film school in the future and he needs some constructive criticism."
“Wait a minute.” Weston’s brows squish together as he tugs Lexie onto his lap. “Is this the cousin who looks like a leprechaun? Short ginger kid? The one in high school?"
“Yeah, Connor. That’s the one."
“Oh shit.” A hearty laugh escapes Weston as he shakes his head. “This is gonna be good."
Diego pops in the disc and hits Play. “Okay, it’s show time. Everyone shut the fuck up!"
He does a hurdle-type leap over the coffee table, landing directly on top of Ellie and Liam.
“Christ, Mendoza,” Liam grumbles as he attempts to push the wild child off his legs. “Lay off the breakfast tacos, mate. You’re heavy as shit."
“It’s called muscle, bro. Something your scrawny ass could use some more of.” Instead of moving, Diego puts an elbow on Ellie’s thigh, propping his head up so he can see the television. “Not a bad seat—kinda comfy. Pass the popcorn?"
“Diego!” Ellie squeals as she slaps at his side. “Get off or you’re gonna regret it! You have three seconds. Three…Two…"
Diego remains unbothered, but the moment she hits “One” and starts viciously tickling his ribs, he loses it.
“Oh sh—Ellie—fuck—basta!” Painful laughter flies past his lips until he finally surrenders. He rolls off their laps, hitting the hardwood floor with a loud thud. “Y’all are no damn fun."
“Nicely done, Peaches."
Liam and Ellie exchange a fist bump as Diego pulls himself to a sitting position. He gets settled in his new seat on the floor and the film finally commences.
Opening credits begin to roll, the neon green text in Comic Sans.
Using the worst font known to mankind…
Not the most promising start.
And as I read what the words actually say, I realize this movie is gonna be downright terrible.
The Old Abandoned Haunted Grocery Store
A film by Connor Mendoza.
Directed by Connor Mendoza.
Produced by Connor Mendoza.
Music by Connor Mendoza.
“New drinking game, fellas,” Victor calls out. “Take a shot every time it says ‘Connor Mendoza’. We’ll all be getting our stomachs pumped in ten minutes flat!"
“Ay! Zip it!”
Starring Connor Mendoza as Ralph.
Starring Connor Mendoza as Annie.
Starring Connor Mendoza as the ghost.
It doesn’t take long for the complaints to start coming in hot.
“Is this a joke?” Liam scoffs.
“Diego, man, seriously?” Vaughn groans. “I thought you said this was a legit movie, not a fucking school theater project."
“For real! What is this shit?!” Andre throws a balled-up napkin at the TV and Weston starts cracking up.
“Shhh!"
A shaky close-up of a suburban home, some horribly out of tune piano playing, and then there’s the infamous Connor Mendoza gracing the screen—a freckle-faced, red-haired boy who can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen.
The camera starts to zoom-in on him—a slow and jerky movement—and he keeps glancing directly into the lens and back down again.
“Annie. Tonight’s the night.”
Connor’s words are stilted, almost like he’s reciting his lines from a sheet of paper. When I hear the crinkling sound of a notebook and see his eyes cast downward, I realize he actually is reading from a script.
Just four words out of this kid’s mouth and something is crystal clear: out of all the filmmaking titles he’s given himself—director, producer, etc.—actor is the biggest lie of them all.
“Tonight’s the night I visit the old abandoned haunted grocery store. Alone.”
“Good Lord.” Ellie’s ice-blue irises are clouded with disbelief.
“Did he film this with his fucking phone?” one of the sophomore defenders asks, a handful of loud snickers following his question.
The answer is yes, by the way.
“Shut up, dude. Give it a chance.” Diego rests his arms over his kneecaps, staring at the television with a look that is equal parts horrified and confused.
It’s the kind of expression one wears when observing a train wreck.
The scene cuts to a new shot of Connor’s bedroom. He’s in the center of the screen, wearing the exact same outfit as before, but now with the addition of a scraggly blonde wig and a messy coat of red lipstick.
“Ralph, no!” he squeals in a horrendous attempt at a female voice. “No, you mustn’t!”
Okay…this is worse than a train wreck.
I’m moments away from calling it quits and heading back to the kitchen for another round of snacks, maybe partake in some more grape-tossing. I might even get lucky and temporarily blind myself with one—anything to avoid witnessing whatever the hell is on this screen right now.
But just as I’m about to make my stealthy escape, Cameron walks up to the couch.
I think the food can wait.
“Sorry, Vic," he says. "You gotta move."
“Why?"
“That’s my seat."
He wants to sit by me.
The realization has me biting back a smile.
Victor frowns. “I thought you liked the armchair?"
“Well, tonight I prefer the loveseat.” He jerks a thumb behind him, leaving no room for argument. “Thanks, dude."
Victor sighs in defeat before removing himself from the cushion.
“That was easy.” My brow crinkles as Cam slides in beside me. “You’re really the boss around here, aren’t you?"
“Team captain has its advantages.” He shoots me a haughty grin before glancing at the television. “What’d I miss?"
“Nothing worth rehashing. Trust me.”
Annie is on the screen, crying hysterically and mumbling about Ralph putting himself in danger. Cameron leans forward, squinting at the TV in utter horror. “What the—Is that Diego’s cousin?"
“Mhmm. That’s Connor Mendoza—the man, the myth, the legend. Hollywood’s next big star.” I shake my head, lowering my voice to just above a whisper. “This is literally the worst thing I’ve ever seen."
“Here. This should help.” He offers me a mixed drink in a bright blue cup. “Nothing a little buzz won’t fix."
I inspect the mystery liquid. “What is it?"
“I found some rum hidden in the back of the pantry.” He gives a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not coconut-flavored, but I added some pineapple juice for that Caribbean touch. You’ll like it."
“I love pineapple.” A big smile spreads across my face. “Thanks."
“No prob." He taps his beer bottle to my glass and winks. "Enjoy your game-winning prize."
For the next thirty minutes, everyone watches the movie and guzzles alcohol to make it tolerable. The boys are dying laughing, hyena cackles and wheezy breaths abundant.
I, on the contrary, haven’t laughed once, and it’s not because I have no sense of humor.
I totally do!
It’s just that I’m having an extremely difficult time concentrating on the film.
In fact, the only thing I’ve been able to focus on for the past half hour is the guy sitting to my left. I’m so aware of his presence, so oddly infatuated with his every movement.
The way he drinks his beer, tipping that long neck bottle back, throat muscles contracting and relaxing as he swallows the liquid.
The scent of his clean, woodsy cologne swirling in an intoxicating cloud around me.
The feel of his thick, jean-clad thigh rubbing against the bare skin of my knee.
> Oh jeez...
A shiver makes its way down my spine at the innocent touch, my stomach twisting with pleasure.
I pull the sleeves of my jersey up above my shoulders—a desperate attempt to get some air on my flushed skin. I’m burning up, fiery heat scorching my flesh despite the near-freezing temps the boys keep the house at. My head is spinning, too, like I’ve got a serious case of vertigo.
Either I’m coming down with the flu or I’m actually getting turned-on just sitting next to Cameron Collins.
The ache in my lower core points to the latter.
What is wrong with me?!
Maybe it’s the dark room with its hazy purple rope lights and intimate vibes.
Or maybe it’s the sweet rush of liquor pumping through my veins, sending wicked, inappropriate desires to the surface.
All I know is I’ve never felt this kind of attraction towards someone. Ne-ver. And it’s not from a sizzling kiss or a sensual brush of fingertips over my body; it’s from nothing more than our close proximity.
So freaking weird.
I start to turn my head, wanting to see if he’s feeling the same thing, when Diego throws his hands in the air in exasperation.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! That’s it! That’s all I can take."
His sudden shout snaps me straight back to reality, and thank goodness for that. I have no idea what the hell that was, but I need to erase it from memory ASAP.
I quickly scoot to the far right side of the couch, putting as much space between me and Cam as possible.
“I gotta FaceTime him,” Diego says as he yanks his cell from his back pocket.
A handful of rings later and the teenage boy from the TV is now on Diego’s phone.
“Hey, D!"
“Yo, Lucky Charms. ¿Qué pasa? I’m watching your movie, dude."
“You are?” Connor’s face brightens. “What do you think? Scary, isn’t it?"
“Oh, it’s frightening, broski. Nightmare worthy. But in a much different way than you think.” Diego snorts as Annie makes another appearance on the screen. “Why are you playing the girl? Couldn’t you find an actual chick to play the part?"
“It’s a solo project,” Connor explains with pride. “It was a stylistic choice."
“Stylistic…right.” Diego rolls his eyes. “Where’d you get that wig?"
“Lost and found at school. I’m almost positive it belonged to our vice principal at one point. Looks nice, doesn’t it?"
“Looks like roadkill."
“Do you like the premise? The supermarket downtown let me use their freezer section after hours to film some of the key scenes."
“It’s an interesting plot line, man. Very, uh…unique."
Connor scratches his chin. “So what you’re trying to say is…” He pauses for a moment, face lighting up with a wide smile as he reaches a conclusion. “You love the movie?!"
“Negative, primo. That’s not even close to what I’m trying to say."
Diego’s blunt response doesn’t faze his young cousin.
“That’s alright, D. Horror movies aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. Too spooky for ya, I suppose."
Before Diego can set Connor straight, a police car pops up on the screen, flashing lights and blaring sirens bright and loud.
Like, really bright and loud.
“The volume levels are fucked.” Diego frowns and plugs a finger in one ear. “What’d you film this part with? Sounds like there’s an actual cop car right outside. Damn."
Ellie twists around, brow furrowing as she squints at the front of the house. “That’s because there is!"
Parker hits Pause as everyone follows her gaze, the red and blue lights reflecting through the windows.
“No! Who called the po-po?” David, a skinny and geeky-looking sophomore, gulps like he’s twenty seconds away from soiling his pants. “I’m too broke to get fined for underage drinking. Plus, my mom will kill me. Don’t let them in!"
“Maybe they’re here for the new guy?” Andre offers the possibility, a few of the guys nodding in agreement. “He seems like the type to have a photo album’s worth of mugshots."
“Fuck, that’s gotta be it,” Weston says with conviction. “Zion’s a damn fugitive on the run—I’ve said it from the start. Here’s hoping he gets arrested."
“Would you lot relax?” Liam stands, stretching his arms above his head with a casual yawn. “I’ll go check it out."
As he saunters off to investigate, I turn to Cameron, still keeping a safe distance. “Is this a normal thing? Cops crashing?"
He shrugs. “Depends. Noise complaints are definitely common, but the police are usually pretty chill about it. They wouldn’t put their sirens on for that. And we’re being quiet tonight, so I dunno what the deal is."
“They’ve parked the vehicle out by the front gate.” Liam’s voice drifts from the foyer into the living room. “An officer's stepped out."
“Oh man. Oh man. Oh man!” David paces the room in anguish. “I need to lawyer up."
“You’re fine, David,” Ellie insists.
He shakes his head repeatedly, holding out the half-empty beer bottle in his hand. “I must destroy the evidence!"
Before anyone can stop him, he pours the remaining amber liquid into the snake plant pot in the corner. All of the guys groan in unison.
“The cop’s just opened the back door.” Liam continues his play-by-play as we listen intently. “Someone’s getting out of the backseat—someone quite short. Looks like a child. A girl. Jesus, that’s some flashy hair. Redder than Connor’s. No way that’s natural…"
The realization hits Cameron and me at the exact same time, our gazes clashing with identical concern.
“Fuck.” Cam curses before expelling a frustrated breath. “It’s Coach’s daughter. I’ll deal with it."
David crumples onto the floor, his paranoia instantly soothed by the news. "Thank God."
“Would you like some help, Cam?” Ellie asks, already hopping to her feet to assist.
“Yeah, dude. We can join you.” Weston points between him and Lexie in offering.
“Thanks, but it’s cool.” Cameron shakes his head and rises from the couch. “I got it."
“So it’s a false alarm? Sweet. Back to the freak show!” Andre grabs the remote and hits Play.
I take a quick sip of my drink before settling into the cushions. Just as I’m getting comfy, a hand grips my shoulder.
Pivoting my head, I find Cameron’s deep gray gaze on me. He nudges his chin towards the front door.
“Come with me."
His voice is quiet, a whispered request in the dark.
Before agreeing, I sneak a glance at Vaughn. Rayne’s tucked under one of his arms, his fingers gently caressing her bronzed skin. His other arm is elbow-deep in a massive bowl of popcorn, all of his attention on the television screen.
He looks sufficiently distracted, so I mouth a silent “okay” to Cameron.
I slip away unnoticed, following him into the warm night. Sticky, humid air suffocates me as I jog down the staircase, trying to keep up with the tall goalkeeper as he takes the wooden steps two at a time.
We cross paths with the police officer and Ms. Trouble-Maker near the pool.
“Are you Cameron Collins?"
“That’s me.” Cam nods as we both come to a stop, me slightly hidden behind his broad stature. “What’s the problem, Officer?"
“I found this one smoking cigarettes with a group of high schoolers behind the mall.” He places a hand on Bev’s shoulder, guiding her forward a few steps. “Not only is she breaking the city curfew for minors, a few of the older kids had drug paraphernalia on them."
I feel Cameron's body go tense at the information. “Dammit, Bev. Are you kidding me?"
She crosses her arms over her tiny frame and kicks at the grass, but doesn’t say a word.
“Beverley here had me take her to this address. Claims you’re her guardian.” The officer gives him a skeptical once-ov
er. “What exactly is your relation to her?"
“I’m her manny."
The man in uniform juts his head forward, eyebrows so high they practically touch his hairline. “You’re her what now?"
I bite down on my tongue to keep from laughing. The title never fails to make me giggle, but it’s really not the time nor place for inappropriate cackles.
“Never mind.” Cameron quickly backtracks. “I know her parents. I can get her home safely."
After the officer exchanges a few words with Bev to make sure she’s comfortable with the situation, he leaves. The moment his vehicle is out of view, Cameron turns to the tween, eyes narrowed and lips tight.
“Follow me."
For the first time tonight, she looks worried. “You’re not going to tell my aunt and uncle, are you?"
“Just follow me, Bev."
His tone is serious and sharp—a glaring indication he’s pissed-off.
Before anyone can utter another syllable, he pulls his keys from his back pocket and makes a beeline for the front gate. Bev shoots me a conflicted glance and I wave her along.
“You heard the man. Let’s go."
We all pile into his car, Cam opening the back door for her and then the passenger door for me.
Even glowering in anger, he’s still a southern gentleman.
He starts the engine, quickly jabbing a knob to turn off the radio, and heads down the dimly-lit road. For the first five minutes of the drive, we ride in complete silence.
I keep my head facing forward, but I can’t keep my eyes from drifting towards the boy steering the vehicle. He looks deep in thought, a white-knuckle grip on the wheel as his jaw ticks periodically.
After what seems like a lifetime, he finally addresses the girl in the back seat.