“Tripped down the stairs. How are you?” I tried to wink with my other eye, but my flirting skills were hampered by the fact that my best winking eye was swollen shut and bloody, so a smile was all I could muster.
“You didn’t fall down the stairs. You’ve been fighting, haven’t you?” She dabbed wet gauze to my eye.” I chuckled. She was so intent, and all I wanted to do was to reach up and kiss her.
Carefully, she cleaned the wound, and then pressed on the cut until it stopped bleeding. “What’s up with the tat?” she asked, while she looked at my hip. “Kill zone? Is that some kind of threat?”
“You tell me.”
Her eyes widened. “Okay,” she teased. “Um…I’ll get the doctor. You definitely need stitches, but he needs to do that.” She was only gone a minute, then reappeared with Dr. Hopkins. He looked at me and shook his head. “Well, Jack. We meet again. Looks like a fight. Let me guess—was it over a girl?”
“Sure, Doc,” I replied. He wasn’t amused, and shot me a silent look of disapproval. “In my defense, I wasn’t looking for a fight. He came to my house and thought he was going to whip my ass,” I chuckled. “Oww!” He found out different. Thanks for fixing me up, Doc. Apparently, I’m not as fast as I thought I was. “
Mollie piped in. “I wonder what the other guy looked like.”
“A lot worse than I do. I promise you that.” I tried not to laugh—it hurt like a son of a bitch.
“And all over a girl?” I could tell Mollie was trying to flirt with me, but she didn’t quite have the knack yet. I wanted to flirt back, but I stopped myself. A part of me didn’t want to encourage her. She was too good for me and I knew it, even if she didn’t. I wanted to play and she wasn’t playtime material. However, Dylan’s girlfriend was exactly the kind of girl I was used to. No strings attached. Mollie was too nice a girl.
“You should come watch me race sometime. I mean, when you have a free weekend. Bring a friend—or a couple of friends. You might like it.” I avoided Dr. Hopkins’ warning stare. Who the fuck was he to judge me?
“The nurse here can tell you how to care for this wound. I’ll write you a prescription for antibiotics and some pain killers.”
I sat up on the bench and put my bloodied shirt back on. “I race this weekend. Maybe I’ll see you around?” Mollie cleaned up the tray, and threw away the bloody tissues and leftover thread into the trash.
“She shook her head. “Illegal racing? I don’t think so. You need to leave the gauze on for twenty-four hours and make sure you keep it clean. You got money for antibiotics?”
“Yeah, why?”
“We got some samples in yesterday. Hold on a sec.” She walked out and I stood up, ready to leave, when she came back in with a little bag in her hands. “Here are enough antibiotics and some ibuprofen. Take the antibiotics every eight hours and the ibuprofen every six hours. I also threw in some antibiotic ointment. Use it.” She smiled and looked up at me. “Any questions?”
“Nope, I’m good. And thanks. It’s been a pleasure...again.” I took the bag from her, walked out of the triage room to the front desk and paid my bill.
I left without saying goodbye to Mollie. I just wanted to get out of there. She confused me. She made me think of good things, like white picket fences and having kids. And I knew those things are impossible for me. She was a DuBois and she didn’t know that I knew her father was Charles DuBois, a pain-in-the-ass attorney, whose buddy was Lance Ford, the District Attorney.
Chapter Eight — Mollie
The rest of the week dragged by, which was surprising because I had a date that weekend—a double date with Nat and her man, and a guy named Brantley. I’d never met him, and despite Natalie's promise to show me a picture of him, I still didn’t know what he looked like. She’d mentioned something about him looking like a GQ model last week, a romantic musician no less. However, as the week progressed, the facts about Mr. Wonderful changed, or ‘evolved’, as Natalie would put it. By the day of the date, I knew the truth about Brantley—he was hot. And knew it.
I sighed and reminded myself to have a good time, even though my thoughts were on another hot, arrogant guy—Jack Fitzgerald. He was the one I wanted to go out on a date with. I sighed again and searched in my closet for something nice to wear.
The guys wanted to take us to dinner, then maybe a movie. Still, as I got dressed, I couldn’t help but daydream about a certain bad boy I knew. I wondered what I would wear on a date with him. Black leather and lace? High-heeled boots? Short spandex dresses? I didn't know. Every time I saw him, he looked pretty normal to me. I chuckled when I thought about the warning speech I'd gotten from Dr. Hopkins about Jack.
Forget about him, Mollie. He's not for you. Just ask your dad—or Natalie.
I felt a quiet rebellion growing inside me. One day, I’d date someone wild, fun, and free, like Jack—maybe even Jack himself. But, in the mean time…it was flat shoes, boring jeans and a dress shirt.
“Mol-lie! You up here?” Natalie called out as she walked up the stairs.
“NO-OO!” I said jokingly.
“Gee, are you wearing that? Is that the best you got? Come on Mol, let's put some life in this party. Why didn't you tell me you didn’t have anything new? I would have brought you something from my collection.” Natalie searched through my closet and pulled out a blue, slinky dress and heels. “Oh, never mind. I found something. Wear this dress with these shoes. Now, get dressed quick and come down stairs. I want you to meet Brantley.”
“You brought them here? That is not cool at all, Nat. Why would you do that? My dad is here!”
“It's okay, he's talking to them now. I think he likes your date. That's got to be a good sign, right?”
Eventually, we walked down the stairs together, arm in arm. I recognized Nat's date, Greg. He looked a little like Jason Patrick—well, if you got him in the right light, anyway. My date looked more like Bradley than Brantley. Like uhm…Bradley Cooper. Wow.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and had to catch my breath. Nat was right—he was a hottie. My dad looked at me and smiled. “Mollie. Oh honey, you look gorgeous. I was just chatting with your friends. Sounds like the four of you will have a great time tonight. Be safe and let one of these men drive, alright? I'll see you later. Have a good time.” He reached his hand out to Brantley and shook it. “Take care of her.”
“Yes, Sir, I will. Thank you.” Brantley gave me a crooked smile and I instinctively bit my bottom lip. I’m sure I looked like a dog in heat, so I grabbed my keys and purse and led the party to the car.
“I'm Brantley, by the way. Nice to meet you, Mollie. You know, I had an Aunt Mollie when I was young but she's dead now. I mean...um...your dad said I should drive....”
I laughed. “If my Dad wanted you to drive, he should’ve given you the keys to his car. This is my car and no one drives it but me.”
“Mollie, you know we can always take Greg's car,” Natalie told me. I looked down the driveway and saw an old, sad-looking sedan. Obviously, it was Greg's.
“That's very sweet, but I think I'll do the driving tonight.” I climbed into the driver’s seat and unlocked the doors so everyone could join me. They hopped in, and Brantley ended up with me in the front seat of my BMW, while Natalie and Greg snuggled up in the back. We hadn't backed out of the driveway yet and they were already kissing. I rolled my eyes again. Right, she needed a wingman.
After some banter, we decided to have dinner at The Pillars, a new restaurant that had opened in an old, antebellum home. It was formal and the food was delicious, but the company and conversation had something lacking. Although Brantley was a hottie, with a head full of brown, highlighted hair and dark eyes, he was a douche bag. I’d told him how I volunteered at the clinic and he proceeded to tell me that needy people were just lazy and needed to get a life. I barely spoke to Natalie. It was her fault I was here, suffering through the boring conversation and dumb jokes.
“Mollie, would you come show me where the ladi
es' room is?” As if she couldn't find it herself.
I sighed and left with her, taking my purse along in case something came up missing.
“Natalie, what is it?”
She sat down on the little couch in front of an old mirror and opened her clutch. She removed a gold powder case, opened it and began to dab her face. “Can't you even try to like this guy?” Flustered, she powdered away.
“Nat, he’s cute, but such a dick. I only came on this lame-ass date because you didn’t want to be alone with Greg. Now it looks like you two have already been alone. Quite a few times, I might add.”
Natalie turned to look at me. “Mols, I just want you to be happy and you aren't even trying. What is your prob? Are you still daydreaming about that skanky Jack Fitzgerald?”
I stomped my foot down. “You know what? I already have one overbearing parent who wants to control every aspect of my life—can't you just be my friend? Or are you and my dad in cahoots with each other?”
Natalie turned back to the mirror and rolled on a perfect application of red lipstick, then sighed. “Yes, I'm your friend, not your Dad. But really...Jack?”
“Natalie! Damn. You just said friend, not dad—” she stood up and twirled in front of the old mirror. As always, she looked amazing. I admired her beauty and her directness, but this was my life, not hers.
“I am your friend, girl. Come on. Let's go pretend to have fun. What's next after dinner?”
“We’re going home.” I ignored her look of disapproval. “Let's finish our dinner and get out of here before the violinist tries to serenade us again.”
It was already dark out. I knew Jack would be racing later tonight and I didn’t want to spend my time with Lamely, no matter how hot he was. We finished up dinner, I faked a migraine and took everyone back to my house to get Greg’s car.
Once we’d said our goodbyes, I pretended to go up the steps and when I saw them turn the corner, I got back in my car and headed out of town. The races were about a thirty-minute drive, or at least Natalie had told me they were. I’d never actually been to the street races before.
My heart raced as I pulled up to a bunch of cars parked on the side of the road. I was surprised that the races were so big. There had to be at least a hundred people there, maybe even two hundred and some girls walked through the crowd selling beer and drinks. I could see Jack's Camaro easing up the road and the crowd went wild. He punched the gas a few times to show off the sound of his motor. I got out of my car, stood alongside of it and waved at him. At first, I didn’t think he’d spotted me but then I saw him smile and wave back. He still had the gauze on his cheek, but I was too far away to tell if his other eye had opened, so I walked toward him to get a better look. By then, the butterflies in my stomach were flip-flopping and I got the chills. I probably looked like one of these street race groupies in my dress and heels. At least I wouldn’t stand out.
Someone made some unintelligible announcements but I recognized Jack's name. The crowd cheered for their favorites. Four racers lined up at the starting line, each gunning their engines to excite their fans. There were girls all over and around Jack's car. I guess Natalie is right. I don't stand a chance with him.
A tall, skinny flag girl waved a red flag and the cars took off down the street. I watched Jack's car take the lead and then he got too far away to see. In a few minutes, I heard the rumble of the cars as they came up the side street and returned to the main drag. Oh, no! He’d lost his lead to a white car, but in the last few seconds of the race, he passed the white car again and won.
I walked towards him and wanted to congratulate him, but girls in dresses shorter than mine were all over him and the car. He turned, saw me looking at him and flashed an evil smile. A brunette grabbed him and pulled him close to her then kissed him...and it wasn’t just a friendly kiss. I stopped dead in my tracks and my stomach tied up in knots. So this was what the races are like. I turned, walked back to my car and vowed never to obsess on Jack Fitzgerald again.
I got in my car and texted Natalie. You still up? I started my car and waited for her response.
ya where are you?
You still with Lamely LOL
Ya, Club Prive
I’ll meet you there.
:)
Before I drove off, I turned back to look at Jack and the crowd of people standing by his car. He wasn’t not for me. I knew it when I met him. I’d just thought maybe…well, I didn’t know what I thought.
Goodbye, Jack. It's been nice dreaming about you.
Chapter Nine — Jack
Seeing Mollie at the race was epic. So was that kiss and I’d had no real intention of kissing that girl after I’d won, but she was all over me before I could do anything. Mollie saw it, too, and now I figured I’d fucked up any chance I might’ve had with her. I’d lain in bed all day and caught up on some much-needed sleep. I reached under my bed and pulled out my cigar box. After a quick check that the dresser was in front of the door, I sprinkled some of the white powder onto the little mirror, and formed it into two straight lines with a razor blade. My eye was killing me and the ibuprofen wasn’t any help, so I thought a little snort of Jack’s home remedy would probably do the trick.
Just as I was about to imbibe the powder, I heard my mom yelling for me to come help her. I slid the box back under my bed and yelled out, “Just a sec, Mom!” I loved my mom, I really did, but she was so evil. For as long as I could remember, I’d wanted her to be a real mom, but after she got hooked on prescription meds, and then speed after they wouldn’t give her any more medication, she was a mess. An evil mess. And even though I’d wanted to leave her a million times to live my own life, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She needed someone to take care of her and that someone was me.
I moved the dresser away from the door and walked out into the living room, “What’s up?”
She was calmer than normal. “I need some money. I know you have some. I heard you won another race last night.”
“Yeah, I did. Were you there?”
She looked at me and her eyes narrowed. There went the calm. “No, I wasn’t at your fucking race. What do you think I am? Some street tramp?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked as I pulled my wallet out of my pocket. “Mom, I’m not gonna buy you any drugs, okay? I’ll get food, pay the bills, but if you want drugs, you’re on your own.” I thought about the blow under my bed. Here I was telling her not to do something that I was just about to do myself. What a hypocrite.
“Jack, I’m fucking hungry. Now give me some goddamn money!”
“Okay, damn woman. Relax.” I threw a few twenties on the end table next to the couch and walked back down the hall.
“Jack, I —”
“Don’t talk to me. You got your money,” I interrupted. I didn’t want to hear any more from her so I went back into my room and shut the door. I could hear her cussing at me, but I was so used to the bullshit, it kind of rolled off me, like water off a duck’s back.
I sat back down on the bed and pulled out the cigar box again. The two lines I’d formed before were there waiting for me. I thought about my mom, then Mollie. She’d never even think about seeing me if she knew I was a cokehead, but did I really even care? Did I even have a chance with her? I thought about that for a few moments then I did the unthinkable—I blew on it. Primo cocaine powder flew around my room and I tossed the mirror in the trash. I felt liberated; I was done with this shit. It was killing me, and if I’d done it, I’d have to wait on Stockton again and I wasn’t willing to give that up. I may never have a chance with Mollie, but I had a chance to race legally and professionally, and no one could fuck that up but me. I decided I’d just go down to the clinic and see if there was anything they could give me to stop the painful throbbing on the side of my head.
I splashed some water on my face and checked the stitches on my cheek, wondering if it was about time they came out. Usually, I’d just take them out myself, but this time I had an angel-in-
waiting that would do it for me. At least I thought she was. My curly hair was a tangled mess, so I tried to tame it a little by wetting and gelling it. Girls were always telling me how they loved my curls, but every one of them had straight hair. I chuckled at the mess on my head and walked out the door.
The late afternoon sun on my face felt incredible, and the thought of seeing Mollie again made me smile. I knew I probably didn’t have a chance with her, but at least I’d get to see her up close and personal for a few minutes more while she removed the sutures. I walked to the clinic since it was only a few blocks away, and whistled a tune on my way over. I didn’t know what had gotten into me. Maybe the realization that I wasn’t a loser after all—at least not last night—and I’d never know if Mollie would go out with me if I never asked her. Something inside of me had woken up and I thought about the blow I’d thrown away, the money I’d won and the big race coming up in a few days. I was on top of the world.
As I opened the door to the clinic, I called out, “Mollie? Are you around?”
She came out of the triage room and looked a hot mess, like she’d been working too hard. Her hair was falling down around her shoulders and she had an exasperated look on her face.
“Hi, Jack. Listen, I’m real busy. It’s just me and Dr. Hopkins,” she sighed. “Can I help you with something?” She gestured toward triage. “Doc’s waiting on me.”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll wait.”
She smiled that angel smile and turned back into the room. I heard people talking inside, so I sat down to wait. I picked up a magazine and flipped through it when I heard the all too familiar snap of rubber gloves being pulled off.
“Hey, how’s it going, Jack?”
“Good, you?”
She sat down next to me. “I’m okay, but did you come all the way down here just to ask me how I‘m doing? Because if you really want to know, I’ve been up since six, on my feet all day and I’m starving. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear all that.”
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