"No, Dress Barn," she said with such satisfaction that it almost made me smile.
"Good."
"Ah, well, you kids enjoy your game, I've got to go finish my hair. Albert will be here shortly."
"I have time to take you home now," I offered to Candy, "Mom's date isn't until six."
"Unless... you wanted to finish the game?" she said with a sheepish little grin. "But if you want me out of your hair, I'm totally fine with leaving—"
"No, that's... I'd like to finish," I said, fiddling with one of my little plastic guys. What the fuck was happening? This gorgeous chick wanted to hang out with me and my disabled brother and play Risk and watch TV? It was so... I don't know, so normal, so nice. But at the same time, it made me feel a little nervous. As if it was too good to last.
As it would turn out, it was.
***
A couple hours after Ma left again, we were sharing a pizza and watching a crappy horror movie marathon. Candy, by now, had begun to understand Justin well enough that she caught it when he cracked a joke, and the two of them spent most of the movie yukking it up like Mystery Science Theater. It was kinda... sweet, I guess. Candy was helping him eat, and I was wishing that this moment would last forever when suddenly, there was a knock at the door that was far too loud.
Startled, I leaped to my feet. I had the knife in my jacket, but something told me I might actually need my gun. I didn't want to scare the others, though, so I didn't bother grabbing it from my room. I opened the door and was immediately punched in the face, stars exploding before my eyes as blood spurted from my nose and pain blinded me. I staggered backward, but instinctively recovered and bolted outside, slamming the door behind me as Candy and Justin both cried out in alarm. I straightened, holding my nose, eyes watering in pain.
"What the fuck!?" I cried. The guy who had hit me was six foot tall, probably four hundred pounds, bald, and wearing brass knuckles. Not someone you want to fuck with.
Unless you're me.
"You owe us money," the big man growled. "Ten grand, to be exact."
"Interesting that punches in the nose count as legal tender these days," I snapped. "Look, I had a deal fall through. I can't pay you just yet. And what the fuck are you doing at my house?" Nobody was supposed to know where anybody lived. It was an unofficial code of the streets - don't ask, don't tell. Stay fucking anonymous and protect your family. Actually, the fact that they were here meant that they were threatening my family.
Reflexively, my hand slipped into my jacket and whipped out my knife.
"You motherfuckers stay away from here." I brandished the knife wide and took a step toward him. "You wanna do business, you get me at the Den, understand?"
The big guy showed me his teeth. "And if you don't pay up, maybe we come in there and rough up your retarded little brother and— arrrgh!"
I leaped forward and slashed at him, slicing open the front of his shirt and leaving a nice, long gash on his flabby chest. He stared down at himself in horror, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.
"I will fuck you up and ruin your life," I growled. "I've got an army of guys behind me to finish the job too, so I ain't working alone. You're playing with fire, motherfucker. You can ask anyone else in this town and they'll tell you that you'll get your goddamn money when I have it."
"You have two weeks, or someone in that house is gonna get hurt," the man grunted, holding his tattered shirt over the bleeding gash on his chest.
"You have two seconds to get off my property before my knife tastes some more of your inbred blood," I retorted, flashing the blade at him.
The guy’s eyes widened momentarily in fear before he scowled at me and turned on his heels, walking off. I could tell he was trying not to run, but he was walking so fast it looked like he had shit his pants. Maybe he had shit his pants, I don't know.
I wiped off my knife with the tail of my shirt. It was a black tee so Candy and Justin wouldn't be able to see the stains. I felt horrible having the two halves of my life come so close together. It made me feel threatened. And you don't wanna make a Wolf feel threatened. I took out my phone and sent Charlie a text:
Wildcats at my place just now. Send guys.
Charlie would take care of the rest. We had to send a message to the Wildcats that we weren't to be fucked with. "Send guys" meant "send guys to the Wildcats' hangout and have them do some serious vandalism, and if anyone's there, rough 'em up." We hadn't had to do it in over a year, but it looked like the turf war between us was gonna heat up again. God dammit. Just when I thought things were calming down a bit.
The front door opened behind me, and there was Candy, with her big eyes and frail shoulders, swallowed by my old gray sweats. The way she looked at me made it hard for me to breathe.
"Ty? What... Ty, you're bleeding!" she cried, running to me in her bare feet.
"Fuckin'... it's cold out, Candy, get inside," I said, escorting her back to the house. "I'm fine."
"No you’re not," she said, clinging to my arm. She steadied my face with her fingertips on my cheek. God, I hadn't been touched this gently in years. This bitch was gonna wear me down if I wasn't careful. I'd go from Big Bad Wolf to a cuddly puppy in her arms, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I turned my face away from her touch.
"C'mon, relax, wasn't the movie—"
"Fuck the movie," she said, grabbing my hand and marching toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna clean you up."
She made me sit on the toilet while she ran the tap, getting the water nice and warm before dabbing at my face with a washcloth. I looked up at her, wishing she'd stop being so gentle, wishing she'd stop making me feel so... good. She made me feel kind of... important. Human. Not at all wolf-like.
"Ty, what happened? What did those guys want?"
"Just some... guys from the bar," I said, avoiding eye contact with her while she tenderly wiped the blood off my face, lips, and neck. "No big deal. I work in a rough part of town, you know? Shit happens."
"Shit doesn't happen," she countered quietly. "Not like that, anyway. Look, Ty, I'm not gonna butt into your business. I barely know you. But you're a good, sweet guy—"
"No, I'm not—"
"— and you've got a family to take care of." Candy bit her lip, wringing the bloody pink water out of the washcloth. "You've gotta take care of yourself for their sake. Imagine what would happen to Justin and your mother if they had to fend for themselves."
"Ugh." It was all I could say because I knew she was right. And I tried not to think too hard about that kind of thing, but the way she put it made me imagine how hard it would be on both of them if anything happened to me. I sighed and hung my head.
"You take good care of your family," she said, sensing that she'd hit a nerve. "It's pretty adorable, actually—"
"It ain't adorable, it's just what I have to do," I grumbled.
"Sure." She smiled and used a soft, dry towel to pat the water from my skin. "Not a whole lot I can do for your nose, I guess, but at least you're clean now."
I nodded and offered her a begrudging, "Thanks."
"You're welcome, Ty."
CHAPTER FIVE
Candace
It was almost midnight by the time Ty was finally able to take me home. It had barely been twenty-four hours, but oddly enough, I kind of felt... at home with him. I had been nervous and scared at first, waking up in an unknown place, but Ty, for all his rough-and-tumble ways, was such a gentle and caring guy. I felt safe and loved in that house. I had made fast friends with his younger brother and learned something about my own subtle prejudices against people with disabilities. Once I got past his horrendous speech impediment and twisted body, Justin really was just like anyone else. Well, maybe a little better than "anyone" else— he was exceptionally smart and had a delightful sense of humor. In a way, he was the yin to Ty's yang. Ty was the breadwinner, gruff, kind of reserved, and extremely serious. I mean, the whole time I was there, I only saw him laugh the one time. Justin, on the oth
er hand, once you got to know him, was really a gregarious jokester, with a sharp emotional intelligence. It was almost as if he was unconsciously compensating for his brother's coldness by being the emotional caretaker. Honestly, they made a great team. I almost kind of envied the Franklin household and wanted to go back there as soon as possible.
Ty and his family were so full of love and closeness, whereas my own family was kind of distant. My parents were kind of old-school traditionalist types. Our relationship was horrible, especially when I was younger and going through all my eating disorder stuff and drug use. Since I'd been in recovery, we had healed the relationship some, but I could never expect my mom to kiss me on the head the way Judy had kissed Ty. It was after midnight when I got home. Ty's house had been so cozy and warm while mine was kind of dark and cold. Granted, everyone was asleep, which is why it was dark, but suddenly everything seemed so quiet and lonely.
I missed Ty. Was I allowed to miss him? I barely knew him, technically, but I felt like we'd been friends for ages. I curled up in my own bed, in my own house, which was only slightly less old and shabby than Ty's. Thinking of his strong, confident voice, I quickly fell asleep.
***
When I woke the next morning, one thought and one thought alone screamed in my brain:
BRAD.
Oh, my God. I had completely, utterly, entirely forgotten about him while I was with Ty. That was not good, not at all.
Yes, it is, a voice inside of me argued, but I quickly silenced it. After all, Brad was my boyfriend and I loved him and I had to be there for him. I hadn't even spoken to him since the incident at the Den. I stumbled out of bed and rinsed my face to wake up, immediately scrambling to find my phone. Well, Brad hadn't tried to call me, either, so I guess it wasn't that important. Still, I dialed his number. He didn't answer his cell, so I called his parents' house instead. His dad answered.
"Meyer residence, this is Robert."
"Mr. Meyer, hi, it's Candy—ce... Candace. Is Brad there?"
"You've got a lot of nerve," Mr. Meyer snarled. Even though he was miles away, I flinched at his tone of voice. "Bradley had to be hospitalized after what you did to him—"
"What I did? I didn't do anything!" I gasped, so shocked that I literally lost my balance and had to sit down. "What... what... I..."
"You abandoned him at that horrible bar?" Mr. Meyer said. "Or were you too stoned to remember?"
"No, I—... I don't drink, Mr. Meyer—"
"That's beside the point. Because of your carelessness—"
"I didn't—"
"— Brad is in the hospital. He's asked about you several times so if you want to visit him, I'll allow it since it might make him feel better. But if it was up to me, I'd tell you to gofuck yourself."
All I could do was sit there, my jaw hanging open. I could not believe that Brad had somehow found a way to twist this situation, a situation entirely of his own making that I tried to talk him out of and make it my fault. My fault! Somehow, I was now the one to blame. How? How?
"Well, do you have anything else to say for yourself, you strumpet" Mr. Meyer snapped.
"Wha—!" The severity of the insult further stunned me. Had it been anyone else, I would've been pleased to read him the riot act over using the "c" word at me, but my brain had stalled out. I tried to put together a coherent thought, a sentence, words, anything, but all I could hear in my head was a faint, weird kind of high-pitched buzzing sound. My face felt funny. I knew that the moment I got off the phone, I was gonna fall apart.
"Well?" he demanded.
"No," I managed to whisper, and he hung up on me.
The phone slipped from my shaking fingers as I stared at the wall. The holes in the power outlet kind of looked like a little face, didn't they? And that face, with its shocked little "o" of a mouth, was about how I felt at that moment.
I had woken up hungry, looking forward to breakfast, but now, there was no way I could deal with the stress of eating. Besides, the only time I felt completely confident was when I was hungry, and if I was going to go see Brad, I needed to feel as strong as I possibly could. Instead of breakfast, I took my sweet time getting ready, making myself as pretty as possible. Hungry and pretty. That's how I liked it. I forced my lips into a smile as I looked in the mirror because I knew my parents weren't gonna smile at me when I left, especially when I refused breakfast.
"Mom, Dad, I'm going out," I said, shrugging into my jacket.
"Out? But you just got back? We've barely seen you in the last two days," my father grumbled over the Sunday paper, sitting in his threadbare recliner.
"I... I know, I've been visiting friends," I said, forcing a tight-lipped smile at him. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Let's have dinner tonight."
"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" my mom said testily, standing with one hand on her hip and the other brandishing a spatula.
"I'll grab something on my way out," I lied. "I've got to go see Brad."
"Oh, Brad," she said, rolling her eyes. "Good luck with that."
"Mom..." I crossed my arms, unable to deal with any more negativity directed at me. Mom had never really liked Brad, and I didn't need her scolding me. I wanted to tell her that Brad was in the hospital and that was why I had to go see him, but then she'd ask why, and I'd have to tell her all about it. The mild satisfaction of guilt-tripping her just wasn’t worth the trouble. "I'll be back in a couple hours."
"Okay," my mother said, shaking her head and turning back to the stove.
Not so much as a "Goodbye" from either of them. I thought longingly of how Justin and Judy had hugged me goodbye last night, how Ty had awkwardly chucked my shoulder because he wasn't really the hugging type. How was it that I got more affection from strangers than from my own family? Hell, Ty even acted more like a boyfriend than Brad did, I thought, as I started to drive.
Boy, Brad was gonna be pissed. There would be no end to the punishment for me forgetting about him like this. Five minutes into the drive, I was shaking with nervousness, and two minutes later, I felt sick to my stomach. Brad was gonna be so mad. Not only was he going to punish me emotionally, but I had a feeling that, once he was better physically, he'd probably hit me to make things "even."
I had to pull over, stopping abruptly, throwing the car door open before I had even put the car in park so that I could vomit. That's how goddamn anxious I was, thinking about Brad. I hadn't even eaten anything, I was simply that terrified. I stared at the little puddle of sick, sinking into the gravel, horrified, and for a moment, I thought, Is this normal? Is it normal for your boyfriend to make you this upset? Is it normal for your boyfriend to abandon you in a bar and then blame you for it?
Is it normal to hate your boyfriend?
Because I realized, as I wiped my mouth and buckled back in, I realized that... I did hate him.
I didn't want to admit it because I'd been dating him for so long, and part of my heart still loved him... or did I just fear him? Maybe I feared what would happen if he found out I didn’t love him. I was so confused. Hate, love, fear and worry, all raged within me like a hurricane.
As hard as I had tried to pull myself together, I was still a mess when I finally got to the hospital. There were tears in my eyes and my knees were shaky as I walked inside and asked the woman at the reception desk where I could find Brad Meyer. She led me to his room, where he was slumbering peacefully, an IV attached to his arm. I gasped and stifled a shriek in my hands because he looked horrible. His handsome face was all battered, but the nurse touched my shoulder to try and calm me.
"Just between you and me, sweetheart, he looks bad, but well… he really isn’t. The doctor doesn't even think he needs to be here, his injuries aren't that serious, but his father's paying a lot of money for us to treat him. We're probably going to discharge him tomorrow."
I stared at Brad’s seemingly lifeless body, barely hearing what the nurse said. I looked at her, blinking back my tears. "Is he okay?"
The nurse pressed
her lips together to stifle a laugh. "He's... he's fine, dear. Just a little banged up. Probably the worst injury is a mild rib fracture, which is crazy painful, but not life-threatening. That's probably why he's so insistent on staying here."
"Oh."
"I'll leave you two alone. You want to talk to the doctor, or...?"
"What? No, that's fine. Thanks." I approached the bed as quietly as possible. I didn't want to wake him up because that's when the punishment would start, but if he didn't see me here, then he'd most likely assume I didn't come at all, and things would be even worse. I dragged over a chair and sat down, staring at his face. He was bruised all to hell, one eye still swollen, the other just bruised. His nose was bandaged, presumably broken, and his lip had been split into several places. Of course, I felt bad for him, but I also secretly felt a little bit vindicated for all the times he'd hurt me, physically and otherwise. I glanced at the IV, figuring he had bullied the hospital into giving him some kind of awesome painkillers, and for a second, I felt jealous. For a quick moment, I hated the fact that I couldn't have drugs and just sleep for days. My God, I would have loved to stay in a drug-induced coma for a week or so. I wouldn't have to worry about anything— no schoolwork, no fucked-up family life, no fucked-up boyfriend, no stress about eating, no stress about anything. I sighed longingly, and my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from a number I didn't recognize. I figured it was probably spam, but I opened it anyway.
Hey, can you come over tomorrow? I need to cash in my favor.
For a minute I was confused, even frightened. Who did I owe a favor? Who the hell would text me like this? But as Brad groaned and began to stir, I realized... it was Ty. I smiled, feeling warm and tingly, but I didn't have a chance to respond to the message just then because Brad was finally awake.
"Candace," he grunted, forcing his voice to sound quiet and hoarse. "You finally came?"
"Yeah, hun, I—... I'm really sorry, babe, I didn't— I mean—"
Pursuit: A Bad Boy Romance Page 64