by Silva Hart
“How does it connect with the real world?” she persists, and I wish she would call on someone else.
“Rich kids are assholes,” I say.
A snicker rolls through the room as Mrs. Kroft purses her lips to prim. Thankfully, she doesn’t call on me again.
Chapter 10
After school, I find Anna leaning against the Mustang. Adrenaline surges through me. God, she’s beautiful, but that doesn’t even do justice to what she is. She’s honey and sunshine and everything that’s the opposite of this place.
Once we’re in the car, she asks, “Is there somewhere you can get us a bottle?”
Spending my whole life watching Tony live the way he does and seeing what alcohol turns him into, I don’t touch the stuff too often. But it’s Anna. This is different. There’s a pool hall I used to hang around all the time. I haven’t been back since the bartender’s husband found out she and I were heating up the supply room.
I was young and dumb and thought he was going to kill me. That was four years ago, and before I started beefing up to protect myself. Hell, she might not even work there anymore. Glancing at Anna’s expectant face turned to mine, I head there anyway.
I park and go in through the employee entrance around back. Stepping into the familiar supply room, I see Mandy getting a jar of olives off the shelf. She turns as soon as she sees the door open, and a smile of recognition stretches across her face.
A spare tire now sits around her waist, and lines on her face tell the tale of too many cigarettes and too much liquor. She slides the olives back onto the shelf and approaches me, her eyes devouring my taller, fuller body.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Jett Dixon. Look at you all grown up.” She slides a finger over my bruised cheek. “What happened?”
“A fight.”
She puts her hands on my pec muscles before sliding them down my rippled torso to the top of my jeans. “You were gorgeous before, but I must say you have grown positively delicious.” She runs her tongue over her lips.
“Thanks, Mandy. You look good too.”
Her face lights up from the casual compliment. “Yeah? So did you stop by for something?” Her tone tells me everything she’s yearning for. She runs her hands down my arms. “Damn, honey, you been spending some serious time in the gym. Good Lord have mercy.”
“I was wondering if I can get a bottle. I have money.”
Her hands, rough from years of dishwashing, slide under my t-shirt. “I’m not sure I want your money.”
“A friend’s waiting outside.”
Disappointment flashes across her face. She brushes coarse, dyed strands back, smoothing her hair and her ego. “I see.” Her voice deflates from heated to dry. “Sure, I can get you a bottle.” She pauses and presses her lips together, her eyes again sweeping over me, the heat returning. “If you’re sure that’s all you want.”
“I just don’t have time right now,” I say, hoping that leaving the door open to possibilities will ease whatever it is she’s feeling.
It seems to. Her crude features relax. “Anything in particular?”
Shit. Anna didn’t say, and I don’t want to get this wrong. What’s something a California girl would like? “Tanqueray.”
“Ah, so you have a gin queen, huh?”
I respond by fishing bills out of my pocket and pressing them into her palm.
“Be right back, sweetie.”
She disappears through the swinging doors and returns in short order with a brown, paper bag. She holds it hostage as she goes over me again from head-to-toe. I reach for the bag, but she hangs onto it. “Stay out of fights. You have a beautiful face. You need to take care of it.” She releases her hold. “And don’t be a stranger, hon.”
When Anna sees me with the bag, her face lights up. It’s worth the solicitations of ten middle-aged bartenders. She grabs it and peers in. “Ooo, Tanqueray. I love Tanqueray.”
I congratulate myself on my selection as I drive to The Overlook.
“I want to sit outside,” Anna says, hopping out of the car with the bag.
I follow her, and we sit right above the drop-off. I stay a little farther back. The girl is either fearless or has a death wish. She folds the bag around the neck, twists the cap off, and takes a long slug.
“Oh, that burns,” she sputters. “So good. Can I bum a smoke?”
We exchange the pack of cigarettes for the bottle, and I take a drink. The alcohol seeps through me, warming. I’m glad for my jacket against the seeping chill and wonder about Anna’s thin sweater.
She gives the pack back, and I light up as well. Anna takes a few more long pulls on the bottle, staring out over the dimming landscape below.
“How was your day?” I ask.
She gives a mirthless laugh. “Well, I asked you to get a bottle of alcohol right after school, so you tell me.”
Right. “Something going on?”
“This Grant kid keeps pestering me to hang out with him and his friends. I think they’re football players, but I’m not sure. The guy won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Grant? Who the hell is that? “What is he asking you to do?”
“Evidently, one of them just got an entire arcade room in his house. The kid must be stupid rich.”
My hand clenches around the neck of the bottle. Galloway. I keep my tone casual, “You going?”
“Nah, not my scene.”
“What is your scene?”
She exhales a swirling cloud through a mirthless laugh. “You’re looking at it.”
“I’m sure they have alcohol.” Why I’m pressing, I don’t know exactly. Maybe gauging how stiff my competition actually is.
“I guess. But he just vibes me weird, you know?”
I get that.
Jumping up, she raises her arms in the air and screams as loud as she can at the wisps of clouds floating serenely in the sky in front of us. The fierce anguish in her voice raises the hairs on my arms. The bottle is more than half empty, and Anna’s slim. She has to be lit right now. I’m definitely buzzed. I have no tolerance for liquor.
She stands in front of me, staring down, then turns and sits between my legs, hugging my knees against her sides. She leans back against my chest, and I get a whiff of the fresh summer rain she always smells like.
“Why do you fight, Jett?” she asks. Her voice has a lilting, sing-song cadence now.
“To protect myself.”
“From what?”
“Anyone really.”
“What happened that made you start?”
“My stepfather almost put me in the hospital.” I should probably have gone to the hospital, but Mom didn’t have the money for it. Fortunately, I was young and managed to heal up anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s no big deal. He can’t touch me now.” And he did me a favor. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without One-Eyed Mike and the gym, probably in prison somewhere.
She takes a few more swigs and sets the bottle down. Her head falls back onto my chest. “I texted him, but he didn’t respond.” Her voice is thick.
“Who?”
“Him. Connor. My ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh.” This is out of nowhere.
“Then I called him. He answered. We talked for a long time. I asked if I could come back and move in with him. He said no.” She says all of this with a sad simplicity.
“When was that?”
“Last night.” She twists to face me and flings her arms around my neck. “Make me feel something. Anything but what I’m feeling right now.” Her warm brown eyes implore. She pulls herself up so she’s curled in my lap, her arms still around my neck.
I’ve wanted her from the moment I first set eyes on her. But like this? Drunk and seeking a diversion from some other guy? I shake my head and try to pry her out of my lap. I’m absolutely ready to go, but I can’t have our first time be like this.
She clings to me, impossible to remove. Then her lips press against m
y neck, and I’m gone. I can do nothing but what she asks of me. I scoop her up as effortlessly as picking up a napkin and take her to the Mustang. It’s dark now, but I don’t want to take any chances of someone pulling up and interrupting us.
She sprinkles my neck with soft kisses that fuel the flame inside of me to a burning inferno. Her tongue darts out, tasting me, and I swear my knees nearly buckle. I open the car door and lay her gently on the back seat.
I make love to her with the sensitivity of my soul speaking to her soul. It’s sweet and simple and thoroughly satisfying.
She lays back and smiles up at me. “Thank you.”
She’s thanking me? A sense of pride and satisfaction sets in for a job well done. It’s probably because I made her forget all about her scumbag boyfriend. I smooth the tousled strands of hair from her face and gaze into her eyes then lightly place my forehead on hers and stay there for a minute.
I get out of the car and light two cigarettes before handing one in to her. She takes the smoke and settles into the seat.
Leaning against the car, I stare up at the stars, feeling content and right in the world. The idea that she just did that with me in an attempt to forget about her ex-boyfriend whispers at the back of my mind, but I fight it. So what? I must have helped. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have thanked me.
Chapter 11
After dropping Anna off at her house, I pull up to my mom’s. It’s been three days since I was here. One-Eyed Mike hasn’t said how long I’m allowed to stay in the little room in the gym in exchange for cleaning up, but I plan on milking it for as long as possible. Despite the pungent odor of stale sweat and the muscled thugs that rotate through the doors all day long, the gym feels safer than it does here at home.
It’s about time for Mom to leave for her diner shift, and I consider waiting. But after it occurs to me that having her here with Tony might make things go more smoothly, I let myself in. They’re both on the couch watching TV. Of course they are. Tony takes one glance at me then turns back to the TV without a word.
Good. Maybe he learned his lesson.
“Jett,” Mom says, getting up and coming to me. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you.”
Like hell you have. Not a single text message says otherwise. I stalk past her to my room and close the door. Pulling out a large duffel bag, I fill it with toiletries and my stack of white boxers, white t-shirts and jeans that I’ve bought. It’s all I wear. Mom never goes shopping for me, so I keep it simple. These things are rightfully mine.
I guess I can’t say the same about the food in the kitchen but go ahead and load up a bag with bread, peanut butter, crackers, and anything else that looks portable and easy to make without a stove or microwave.
Mom flutters around me like a moth, not sure what to say. Having me out of the house over the weekend must have made their relationship a lot easier. She’s positively radiating worry that I’ll suddenly change my mind, unpack everything, and stick around.
“Are things going okay?” she finally asks.
I shrug, pick up the duffel and grocery bag and head for the door.
“Jett.” She puts a hand on my arm, stopping me. I turn to her and see tears glistening in her eyes. “You can come back anytime, you know.” Her voice is barely audible as if she doesn’t want Tony to overhear.
I nod and leave. Who knows? I might have to at some point. But until that day, I’m sure as hell going to be working out and training my ass off. And if Tony tries anything even one more time, I will kill him.
I drive to the gym, make myself a peanut butter sandwich, then crash on the cot.
The next morning, as I’m getting ready for school, I see that the swelling around my eye is all but gone and the angry colors have mellowed to pastels.
In homeroom, Anna looks depressed. More than anything, I wish I could go to her, hold her, tell her everything will be okay, then prove it to her somehow. But I don’t know what to say except to offer her a smoke. She agrees and I’m happy when she falls in next to me outside of homeroom, but she veers off when Lexi comes up and drapes herself on me.
“Halloween’s coming up,” she says, hooking her arm through mine. “There are lots of parties. Want to go to some? It’d be fun.”
“Probably not,” I say. It didn’t appear as if she had much fun at the last party I had to rescue her from. Not my scene. And I’m definitely not wearing a costume.
But what was wrong with Anna? She looked so sad. Why am I talking about some stupid high school Halloween parties with Lexi when I should be outside talking to Anna and helping her with whatever is going on?
“Aw, please? I thought we could go as Rocky Balboa and Adrienne. I’ll get a wig and some old-lady, librarian clothes. You can wear a pair of satin boxers.” She leans into me and whispers, “Yum!” Her breath is hot on my ear, and she gives me a flirtatious wink before stepping in to her classroom.
I sigh. There is no way I’m going to a high school Halloween party. When will she decide she’s had her fill of me and drop this obsession she seems to have? I don’t understand what she’s thinking. She can’t have any hope of anything long-term with the likes of me. Whenever we get together, I keep telling myself, “This is the last time.” But she always comes back for more. Why though? Why me?
In English class, Mrs. Kroft’s eyes keep sliding to me, darting away, sliding back. I wonder if the other kids notice. And what would she actually do if I stayed after the bell rang and it was only her, me, and a closed classroom door?
It’s lunch before I spot Anna again. “Hey,” I say.
She turns, but when she sees it’s me her eyes drop to the floor. Her disappointment in me stings. She may as well have slapped me across the face.
“You still want that smoke?”
She shakes her head.
I grit my teeth then try again, “How’re classes going?”
She shrugs. “They’re classes.”
It’s been an irritating morning, and I’m pretty much fed up with everything at this point. “Well, I’m going outside,” I say and head off without looking to see if she follows.
Slipping out the back-gym door (the only emergency door that doesn’t trigger the alarm), I walk down a grassy slope to the baseball dugout. When no gym classes are being held outside, here and under the bleachers at the football field are generally safest.
I sit and pull out the cellophane pack and lighter and don’t look up when her shadow crosses over me. I hand her a smoke when she sits down next to me and flick the lighter to flame. We sit in silence. Anna is distant, which makes me even more irked by Lexi and her sudden displays of possessiveness over me.
If things had gone the way I’d wanted them to this morning, Anna and I would have spent a fun first period under the cool morning sun sitting right here in this dugout, talking and getting to know each other better. Maybe even a little more. Thinking back to her passion at The Overlook makes me want her all over again and soon.
How can I explain to Anna the whole Lexi situation of how she seduced me in the girls’ locker room last week and has acted like she owns me ever since? Everything I think of sounds lame in my mind. The last thing I want is to come across as the cheating ex-boyfriend she just left behind in California.
Remembering her miserable expression in homeroom, I ask, “So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She gives a quick shake of her head.
Okay, so she doesn’t want to talk about it. I won’t pry.
“Thanks for Friday night.”
Whether she’s saying this to change the subject or as an apology for being short earlier, I don’t know. “Sure.”
And there’s that smile that makes my soul sing. “I felt bad for that second kid who had to fight you.”
“He’s new. I never saw him before.”
“I’d be surprised if you ever see him again,” she laughs. It’s low and breathy and sends a shiver a desire racing through me.
I watch her lips as she ta
lks. God, how I want to taste them again. As nice as it is to watch them, I really wish she wanted to do something with them other than talk right now. What is it with her? Any other girl would be all over me right now. Have I been friend-zoned? I’ve never been friend-zoned before.
“Did you know any of them? The people you fought?” she asks.
“Yeah, the other two.”
“Have you fought them before?”
“I’ve been in the ring with Mac, the first one, but never Ivan, the one who beat me. One-Eyed Mike tries to keep us rotated so we don’t learn each other’s weaknesses. And there are always unknowns showing up to see what they can do or because they need the money or whatever.”
“That makes sense. How many fighters are there?”
“There’s a handful of regulars. But, like I said, other people come and go all the time. Word’s gotten around, and some travel hours to get there. All they have to say is who invited them and they’re in.”
“How long have you been doing it?”
“Been fighting for two. Trained for two before I started.”
She flicks her butt away and turns to me, studying my bruises. My body stills but my heart races as her tender finger traces across my eye. “You heal fast. That was completely shut before.”
I gaze at her, hoping she’ll lean in for a kiss, resisting the overwhelming urge to pull her against me and hold her the way I did at The Overlook Friday evening. She fit against me like we were made for each other. Instead, she stands. “Guess we better go in.”
I feel let down but stand and follow her inside. She’s all I think about the rest of the day. How can I get through the wall she has up? I know she was just burned by her stupid ex, but how can I prove that I’d never do that to her?
I haven’t committed to anyone before. No one has ever made me think they wanted anything more than the physical. And, if they did, I couldn’t see them being the one for me. If I ever commit, that girl will be it. End of story. That’s how it should be. There’s a code. And you don’t break the code.
As soon as I enter algebra, Lexi mouths “Hi” with a broad smile. A few heads turn to see who she’s talking to. I give her a nod and go to my desk. The heads bend in whispers. What the hell could they possibly think is happening between her and I, the homecoming queen and the misfit? Kids are so bored, they’ll latch onto the slightest thing to create drama.