Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series)

by Smith, J Gordon

  Haley whispered in his ear, her dark hair draping next to her face, trimmed edgy and sharp, “I want you to take me.” She bit her lip and repeated, “Take me, now.” She closed her eyes and let a moan rumble through her that he felt jangle his groin in the only way that tone could affect a man. His pants became much too tight. She leaned against him, the pressure only causing him to want her more. His body gripped his mind and shook it awake, although a piece of him held back and questioned her motive.

  Haley looked into Kyle’s eyes, “I know you’re unattached and free to enjoy me. I want you.” Haley licked her lips and parted them, “I can feel your dick is ready for me,” She stroked his pants. “Don’t be a wimp. You’re too strong for that.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  Haley reared her body back like a cobra and flung off the robe. The arc of her movement flashed his mind like a mermaid shooting up from sparkling ocean currents. An evil, tattooed mermaid. He sat forward and wrapped his arms around her. One arm across her bottom, the other around her shoulder blades and he crushed her body against him, her breasts pressed against his face. He could so easily reach his tongue out and stroke the little cone of nipple that wobbled like an upturned top. Her smell was strong, powerful, and filled with desire that fueled his need for her. He held her tight.

  Haley reached her black nail polished fingers to Kyle’s head and tipped it back. She slid between his arms and reached her red lips to his. He needed his pants flung open, the pressure grew, and at an alarming rate as if he was rolled up like a bloated red carpet looking for a movie premier. He slid his arms down her supple sides. His damaged fingers curled over her curves. He flexed his fingers. He had tuned up his guitar earlier that morning but put it away before ever strumming a chord. He flexed his fingers again. Before Amanda, he would have taken Haley as soon as he saw her robe, flung her down on the car seat, and shed his jeans. Amanda changed him. He flexed his fingers. He gripped Haley’s body and slid from under her, setting her down on the seat. His fingers found the crumpled robe on the floor and gave it to her. “You're sexy on the outside, but rotten inside.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard you painted all our stolen music gear so it could be sold.”

  “I didn't know it was yours. I got a call at the tattoo shop from these guys, friends of Sardis they said, and wanted artwork.” She stroked a hand across the floral pattern tattoo that curled along her side; Kyle guessed she gouged that one into herself. She lifted her hand so she cupped her breast and the nipple flashed Kyle like the ruddy circle on butterfly wings meant to confuse and hypnotize predators.

  “It had my band's name stenciled on the back of all of them.” Kyle kicked the door handle with his heel and backed out of the car. He pointed his finger away, “Go.”

  “That was crap equipment. What did you want it for?”

  “That crap equipment was better than nothing. I had to build my guitar from nothing.”

  “How does it play to you? It sounded good at the winery, to me.”

  Kyle knew in his heart that his scrap-wood guitar had more tone and more soul than any instrument he ever played before, even those two-thousand dollar sparkling units hanging in the music store. Which only twisted the iron rod that pierced his heart since his hand could not play it. “It doesn’t matter. The loss of that equipment made Sardis and I worry and work too hard at a risky job to earn money for new equipment – it caused me to fall. That led me to nail my hand to the roof and destroy my all of my guitar playing.” Kyle knew he must be away from her. “You need to go.”

  Haley snatched Kyle’s hand and looked at the pink scabs and bright scars, turning it over. She released Kyle’s hand in disgust, “Your hand is recovered, and you have strength in there. You’re just being a dick.” She jammed her toes into her gold sandals and tied her robe sash tight. The robe hugged her curves as Kyle watched her strut toward her car. Her bottom waved at him, telling him you are an idiot for refusing sex with this body. Although he knew that body came here with purpose to manipulate and own him as she had so many others.

  The squeal of a police car siren startled Kyle. The vehicle bounded from the blacktop road into the dirt behind Haley’s car, blocking her escape. Little whorls of dust surged forward and enveloped Haley’s legs up to her knees as she stood lifting the door handle.

  The officer exited his car and walked to Haley, his hand hovering near his holster while he watched both Haley and Kyle. “We’ve been looking for you, Haley Clasik. We had a tip you were the one involved with that house party.” A second police officer exited the other side of the car and stood ready and watchful.

  Haley released the door handle, “It wasn’t me with the hot tub chick.” Her shoulders sagged and she began to cry while she pointed at Kyle, “His brother Sardis drowned the girl.”

  The officers looked at Kyle. The officer by the car leaned in and grabbed the radio mike. Unintelligible chatter went back and forth between clicks of the mike button. The second officer said to the first, “That girl was revived en-route to the emergency department. She declined pressing charges.”

  The first officer looked at Kyle, “Tell your brother he’s lucky he’s off the hook.” His focus returned to Haley, “Turn around, hands on the top of the car. We are arresting you for arson, breaking and entering, vehicular theft, and fleeing an accident scene.” In a practiced motion, he slapped handcuffs around Haley’s wrists as he read her rights to her.

  The second officer said to the first, “Hey, before you stuff her in the car, double-check her shoulder for that tattoo.”

  “Right,” said the first officer. He pulled back the robe exposing her shoulder. He saw the edges of a tattoo that covered her shoulder blade, he pulled the robe down further on her back, “Here it is, a regular zombie apocalypse biohazard tattoo. This is the girl.”

  Haley looked at Kyle, the marks of a hard cry coloring her face, “Kyle, help me! Tell them I was with you the whole night. You had your way with me, more than once. Up the hill behind the house during and after the party.”

  A tow truck arrived, backed around the police car, and up to Haley’s car.

  Kyle said, “No, she wasn’t with me. I didn’t have anything to do with that place.”

  She said, “He’s lying. He has been raping me for weeks. I just escaped.”

  Kyle said to the officer, “She is making that up.”

  The officer looked over his sunglasses, “I think it might be the other way around. She will be checked out when booked anyway. If something is wrong then we may be back for you.”

  “Kyle, I love you. Save me, please. Please!”

  Kyle turned away and closed his eyes to shut out Haley’s whimpering and crying as they drew her toward the police car. The second officer opened the rear door. While the first officer shoved her head under the car roofline she shouted to Kyle, all her pretended sadness and pitifulness vaporized in the act he knew she used, “You are an ass, Kyle.” The officer’s hand pressed her into the car, slammed the door, and then they got in and drove away.

  Kyle listened to the clanking and whining tow truck as it dragged Haley’s car up the tilted deck and bent down to the flatbed with the hiss of hydraulic cylinders. He heard the tow truck driver slam his door and grind the truck into gear and return to the asphalt road and civilization.

  Kyle looked at his hand. Even though it is Haley, and she had done bad things, why did his soul feel notched again? He never worried about this before. What had Amanda done to change him?

  He looked up at hearing the crunch of tires on the dirt, expecting the police returned for him this time. Should he run? He looked over the top of the seat and saw Amanda’s car. Kyle swung his legs off the seat and stood. He realized he still only wore his jeans. He glanced inside his car thinking he should grab his crumpled shirt but Amanda already came from her car. He saw her pause for half a heartbeat and he watched her pupils widen as she took all of him in. She said, “Sardis suggested I could find you here
.”

  “He didn’t use those words, did he?” Kyle nodded. “You should stay away.”

  She paused, coming toward him, “You can’t remain bitter forever.”

  Kyle flexed his fingers and squeezed them into fists. Pain jabbed along his arm and through his shoulder, his face gritted and winced, but the fingers curled toward his palm.

  “You moved your fingers!” She took another few cautious steps toward Kyle.

  “I’m afraid of false hopes.” Too many times in his life hope had turned on him. When his first job after leaving school paid him money, he stopped at the house to show his father and marvel over all the taxes drawn from the check. Money he earned, not something stolen, his honest work. He hoped his father might give him more respect, veiled congratulations, or even quiet praise – but praise never came. Too much to hope for.

  Amanda took another pair of steps, “Let me see your hand.”

  Kyle knew if she touched him, his resolve would waiver and self-destruct. “No. You should go.”

  “I can see your pain for me; it’s different from your injuries. Do you really want me to go? I want to stay. I want you in my life.”

  Kyle lifted his damaged hand between them, reaching for her. Amanda took the last pair of steps and her fingers caressed his fingers. Her touch brushed him like gossamer strands from an angel. He desperately needed to hug her. He pulled her toward him. Before he could change his mind, Amanda threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He let her kiss him, let her anchor his being. He knew he was hers, for as long as she could stand his desperate depression, his money struggles, and his lost music. He wanted to heal for her as much as for himself.

  Tires squealed on the blacktop road as a car whipped around in a U-turn. A blue Camaro accelerated toward them, rocketing over the ditch and straight at them. Kyle spun away with Amanda in his arms, putting the bulk of his Crown Vic between them. The Camaro crunched into the rear door.

  Amanda shrieked, “It’s Nick!”

  Nick stabbed his finger in the air at her from the other side of his windshield. They could see him screaming, “Fuck you! For burning down my house! Fuck you, pretty girl!”

  Kyle pulled Amanda with him around the car. He yanked open the passenger door and dragged her in behind him. He scooted under the steering wheel, started the engine, and accelerated toward the blacktop.

  Nick shifted his car in reverse and then into drive, spinning dirt in a fantail getting back to the blacktop and chasing Kyle and Amanda.

  Kyle turned from the lane onto Rancho California road and sped east.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere.” Kyle checked the rear-view mirror and saw Nick gaining on them. “His car is more maneuverable than this pig. And faster.” Kyle kicked the shifter down from drive to third gear, the engine raced, but the car chugged forward.

  “The road bends tight up the hills passed Amber Mountain winery.”

  “I know.” Kyle shifted the car back into drive and the noise dropped. The body floated at this speed like an unstable airplane attempting to take off in a crosswind.

  Kyle swerved around several meandering cars and a bus. A San Diego Party Platoon banner plastered the side of the bus. The bus exhaust coiled into Kyle’s open car windows as they drove around the bus, the strong odor of diesel mixed with French fry oil converted to bio-diesel made him hungry.

  The road curled down and around before it raced up into the hills. Kyle pressed the brakes and the left rear brake threw the last of its shoe and ground metal on metal. He kept the steering gripped tight in his hands and held the now twisting jet on course. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Nick approaching rapidly. Kyle’s car careened around the curves, loose ball joints causing the front wheels to wobble and make him feel like he would wrap into the semi coming from the other direction. He swerved and tucked the car back on his side of the yellow line. He hammered the accelerator. The car reared up and surged forward. Then the engine coughed. Kyle kicked the accelerator again and the car surged forward but again sputtered. It bucked and flung them against their seat belts only to fail and fall back.

  “Shit!”

  “– What’s going on?” Amanda looked over her shoulder at the other car, filling the horizon full of grill.

  “Gas gage is empty. I should have had more than two bucks in it.” The massive car coasted forward. Another check in the mirrors showed Nick approached fast.

  Kyle knocked the shifter into neutral and let the vehicle coast.

  Nick accelerated as he approached. His car thumped into the rear of Kyle’s car. Kyle saw the bent bumper jettison itself in a whirling figure like parade confetti. Nick swerved but increased speed again. Kyle’s car slowed below thirty miles an hour when Nick struck them again. Nick’s car clipped the corner of Kyle’s and the vast speed difference spun Kyle’s car and punched him over the ditch. The car hurtled through olive scrub and wedged in a sandy bank. Kyle’s head struck the steering wheel and bobbed about like he was drunk but is senses returned and he glanced at his mirror.

  Nick parked at the side of the road leaving his car engine rumbling behind as he ran toward them. When he neared, he held up a gun pointed at Amanda.

  Kyle flipped the door lever and eased out of the car.

  “I thought we could have had something, Amanda, until I saw you at my house and the place explodes. You were with this guy.” Nick swiveled his arm so the gun pointed at Kyle sliding to the rear of the car. “Don’t move.” Kyle paused, lifting his hands. Nick rubbed the sweat from his face with the back of his wrist, “Amanda, get out of the car.”

  Amanda pushed on the door. The front fender bent against the door panel so the metal groaned when she tried opening it. “Careful, Amanda.” Nick waved his gun at her. Kyle slid his feet toward Nick. “After getting fired from Shokworthe, I lost my house in Detroit. The house you blew up was my only place to live. What’s taking you so long to get out of there, bitch?”

  Amanda said, “The door is stuck.”

  “Then climb out the damn window.”

  Amanda nodded and pulled the door closed until the latch clicked.

  A metal clang of an engine consuming itself from overheating, seizing, and fracturing internally belched out of Nick’s car at the road. It wheezed in a cloud of steam and died. Nick gripped his gun tighter, “Fucking car. Now I’ll be walking back.”

  Amanda wiggled through the window, thinking of how his statement neglected to include all of them walking back. She eased her legs over the sill to stand on the ground next to the car. Nick watched every move she made. He heard a stick snap and pointed his gun where Kyle should have been, but Kyle had moved closer. “Back up.” He waved his gun. “Back up!” Nick walked toward Kyle. “Wait! Get down on your knees.”

  Kyle knelt down at the edge of the car, but before his put his weight into his knees, he twisted his body and scooped sand in his fingers. He threw the debris at Nick’s eyes. Nick fired at Kyle. Kyle picked himself up from the ground at the edge of the car and sprinted at Nick. Amanda shrieked and Nick fired at the direction of her noise. Nick stumbled back trying to clear his eyes to aim at Kyle.

  “Kyle!” Amanda screamed. Nick swung his gun around and fired again at Amanda’s voice. “Oh, God. Oh, God!” Amanda cried. Kyle reached Nick and tackled him.

  They wrestled for the gun. Nick fired the gun twice more while Kyle rolled him over. The bullets struck into the sandy hill several yards away. The dried scrub gouged Kyle’s shirtless back. Kyle slammed his fist into Nick’s face. Nick kicked at Kyle and rolled away holding his eye. Kyle snatched at Nick’s ankle and dragged him back. Nick brought his gun around and pointed in the direction the body attached to that hand tugged him.

  Kyle saw the gun barrel come around and the empty hollow of the barrel’s blackness pointed at him. He lunged and slapped Nick’s hand. The gun fired off away from Kyle.

  Amanda whimpered in the dirt beside the car, putting her hands around the deep red slice in th
e side of her thigh, the sand catching the blood boiling from her leg. Little black sand fleas hopped away to avoid being drowned by the large sticky red drops. “Oh God …”

  Kyle gripped the gun barrel. Its heat seared his skin but he bent the weapon away. More for my hand to heal. His finger searched for the safety but this brand of gun had too small of a lever for him to flick away from his side of the weapon. He did locate the button for the clip so the springs shucked the magazine from the gun handle. He twisted the gun away, feeling Nick’s wrist bones crackle from his fear-induced strength, heightened because he knew one more bullet hid in the chamber.

  Nick brought up his knee and banged it against Kyle’s still healing ribs. Kyle folded from the pain. Nick brought his knee up repeatedly. Kyle’s grip loosened on the gun. Nick reached with his other hand and wrenched the gun free. “I got you now, you shit.” Nick pointed the gun at Kyle, one of his eyes seeing his target through crumpled lashes and wet debris. He squeezed the trigger slow and easy to make his last bullet count.

  Kyle slapped the gun up. Nick’s finger jerked on the trigger so that the weapon tipped off his target and fired into the Crown Victoria. The bullet pierced the fender. It sped through the wheel well and into the vertically mounted fuel tank full of fumes and the little puddle of gasoline that always settles away from the fuel uptake pipe – enough to ignite the car on fire. Kyle gripped Nick’s shirt and slammed his fist into Nick’s face. Nick blacked out and fell limp against the dirt.