Clash (Gentry Generations)

by Cora Brent

  Kellan’s building was only a short walk from the entrance. Along the way I passed a few people who looked at me with curiosity. A pair of girls in matching sorority letter shirts stopped and asked if I needed a ride.

  “Did someone hit you?” asked one of them with wide eyes and that’s how I knew I looked as bad as I felt.

  “No, I just had a skating accident,” I assured them because it was easier than explaining the truth. And because if I did explain the truth then I’d probably burst into tears again.

  The girls glanced at each other. They thought I was weird. I was still wearing the same ratty cutoffs and purple jersey tee I’d thrown on this morning after my shower in the rec center, back when I thought I’d be spending the day getting comfortable in my new apartment. I looked down and saw a quarter sized spot of blood over my right breast. My knees were dirty. And the bag I carried bulged with a large chunk of my worldly possessions.

  “You have a good night,” said one of the girls and pulled her friend along. I heard them giggle from a few steps away.

  Kellan’s building was directly to my right. I used my thumb to swipe under my eyes in case raccoon trails of tears were there. There was no noise coming from Kellan’s apartment and the one window I could see was dark. After a deep breath I knocked on the door. Hopefully if Kellan wasn’t home then at least Thomas was around. I hoped for Kellan though. I needed Kellan. I needed him in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

  I knocked again.

  This time there was a definite loud thud near the door and then the handle moved.

  Kellan answered wearing red boxers and no shirt. He also looked slightly disheveled, as if he’d been sleeping.

  Or, as if he’d been doing something else.

  “Kel?” The girl materialized behind him. She wore a t-shirt. She wore his t-shirt. I knew it belonged to him because I’d seen it before. It said Brothers Gentry Garage and he’d been wearing it the morning he served me breakfast in the kitchen. The same place where the pretty black-haired girl stood rubbing her eyes and wincing at the light that poured in from the hallway. He probably wore that shirt to bed.

  To bed.

  The place he’d obviously just emerged from. And there I was haunting his doorway at an indecent hour and probably looking like I’d just wrestled with feral cats in a city dumpster.

  “Taylor,” he said. His voice was so gentle, his face so sad.

  And I didn’t care that he’d likely just come from humping the cute girl who blinked at me in the background. That didn’t matter. He would be my friend and that’s exactly what I needed from him. I wrapped my arms around his broad, strong shoulders and held on as if I were a drowning girl clutching the only anchor in sight.

  For two years I’d been struggling to hold my held up while being slowly overtaken by surrounding quicksand. The scandal of my father’s arrest. The grief over his sudden, horrible death. The humiliation of being an object of scorn. The betrayal of my surviving family. Each piece of my security had been slowly chipped away until there was nothing left.

  And now I was here, neck deep in that quicksand and gasping for air in front of a boy I hoped would forgive me for all my flaws and pull me up so I could breathe.

  “It’s all right,” Kellan promised as he wrapped me in a comforting hug. He smelled like mint toothpaste and evergreen forest aftershave.

  “You’re safe now,” he whispered.

  And I lost it. I cried so hard I though I would fall. I might have, if Kellan hadn’t been holding me up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kellan

  “Hey there, stranger,” said Angelica DeSoto.

  “I didn’t even know you were here tonight,” I said and then gave her a quick hug.

  I’d known Angelica since grade school. We’d enrolled in the university’s business college at the same time and had shared a number of classes. She was a friend, had never been anything more.

  Angelica smirked at me. “You were busy playing tonsil hockey and I figured it would be a bad idea for me to interrupt.”

  I gestured to her clothes. “What the hell happened to you, Angie?”

  She sighed and regarded the giant wet patch on her shirt with disgust. “That wasn’t my vomit. I did the best I could to scrub it off. This creep in sunglasses yelled ‘Bombs away!’ and then puked all over me. He didn’t even apologize.”

  “Was he wearing a baseball cap that said ‘YOU WISH’?”

  “That’s him! Friend of yours?”

  “Totally. We’re BFF’s. Where’s Nathan tonight?”

  Her boyfriend had graduated in Derek’s high school class and was an okay guy. A little uptight for my taste. But he was all right and he and Angie had been the ultimate power couple for years.

  “Nathan is home with food poisoning after an experiment with grocery store sushi. He wasn’t planning on coming anyway. I drove down to hang out with my friend Krista since it’s her birthday.” She made a face. “Then she ditched me for some tool with a topknot. And now I’m too messed up to drive anywhere.”

  “Are you high or just drunk?”

  Nathan and Angelica were renowned non-drinkers. So even though we were here at a veritable alcohol orgy I was a little surprised to hear she’d decided to get hammered.

  She sighed and held up a thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little drunk.” Then she rubbed her eyes and swayed back and forth. “So this is what being drunk feels like. It’s not fun, Kellan. It’s not fun at all. Is the room supposed to be spinning like this?”

  “People go to a lot of trouble to acquire that spinning feeling. Here, lean against this comfortable wall so you don’t trip while the room moves around.”

  “Thanks,” she grumbled and then slumped. “This was a stupid idea. I should have just stayed home and held Nathan’s head over the toilet.”

  “Luckily I’m stone cold sober so I can drive you home. Ah shit, my car’s in the shop. I’m sure I can borrow Thomas’s car.”

  She offered a weak smile. “I don’t live around here anymore. Over the summer we moved downtown to an apartment on Central Avenue.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t mind the miles.”

  Angie crossed her arms and deflated. “There might be another problem.”

  “What?”

  “Nathan will probably have a hissy fit if I come home drunk and stinking like someone else’s vomit. You know his dad was a raging alcoholic, right? So it’s kind of a big deal to him.”

  “I’ll explain to him that it’s my fault.”

  “How is it your fault? I had three beers and two shots before I even ran into you.”

  “I don’t know why it’s my fault. Think creatively.”

  She sighed loudly. “If only Krista had left me her apartment keys. I told Nathan I’d probably spend the night out here so he’s not even expecting me at home.”

  “Well, in that case, you’re welcome to crash at my place. But I’ve got to warn you, young Thomas is probably there with some company. I’ve got a box of ear plugs in case you need them. I’m ready to leave now.”

  She was considering. “Don’t you want to stay at the party?”

  “Nah. This scene isn’t what it used to be. Or maybe it’s me that’s not what it used to be.”

  She pecked my cheek. “You’re a prince.”

  “Really? I feel more like a duke. It just sounds better.”

  The bathroom door opened. Crotch emerged wearing a plush purple towel around his waist. Either Aimee or Bridget would get a rude surprise the next time they reached out of the shower and found nothing to dry off with.

  “Dude, did you just take a shower?” I asked as hot steam followed him out.

  He shook out his wet hair and I caught a whiff of apple body wash. “Yeah,” he admitted and wandered away in his towel.

  “Some people,” I said to Angie. “No freaking manners. Let’s get out of here.”

  When I passed through the living room I was kind of relieved to see I wouldn’t ne
ed to explain anything to Aimee. She didn’t even see me because her face was temporarily attached to Franco’s face. The two of them were sprawled on the couch and dry humping to the beat of the music. Strangely enough, Franco’s date was still propped up against the wall and scrolling through her phone with a bored look on her face.

  “Hey Kellan,” said Angelica as we passed the lovebirds. “Isn’t that the girl you were kissing earlier?”

  “Never mind,” I muttered, ushering her out the door.

  Now I was really glad that I hadn’t gone through with hooking up with Aimee. Obviously things weren’t really over between her and Franco and I’d saved myself the shame of regret in the morning. Plus, if I’d disappeared with Aimee then I wouldn’t have been around to help out Angelica.

  Perhaps I’d found a better role than shameless party god. I was now Kellan Gentry, Patron Saint of Friend Zones.

  Once again I thought of Taylor. Yet another reason to be glad that nothing important had happened with Aimee. I would have had Taylor on my mind. Aimee would have been thinking of Franco. We would have been screwing in body only, each of us pining for someone else. That would have been messed up.

  Thomas was exactly where I thought he’d be, doing exactly what I thought he would be doing. The girl was a big time moaner and it was a safe guess that she was reaching a climactic moment just as I walked through the door with Angelica.

  “Sorry about that,” I said as I swept a discarded black bra and an orange tank top off the floor.

  “Kel.” Angie slapped a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Bathroom’s the first door on the right.”

  My brother’s bedroom acrobatics continued as Angelica gagged loudly in the bathroom. I turned on the television and watched a show about ax throwing while waiting for everyone to quiet down.

  By the time Angie emerged from the bathroom, Thomas and his mystery girl had taken a break. I offered Angie my room if she wanted some privacy but she preferred the couch, although she did accept my offer of a clean t-shirt so she didn’t have to sleep in vomit. As I gathered blankets for Angie I couldn’t help but feel a pang as I remembered the last girl who’d slept on my couch.

  Then, after Angie was settled, I went to my room, dropped my pants and spent some time with the memory of a different night with Taylor.

  I’d noticed her walking around campus a few times and the night she turned up at a party looking completely gorgeous and aloof she immediately became my mission. She wasn’t drinking, which I liked. Moreover she had a real attitude and the ability to spit one liners right back at me, which I really liked. The party was sweltering so we took a walk out in the courtyard, where I felt bold enough to kiss her. Things got so hot so fast I damn near creamed my pants. She didn’t want to go to my place. She preferred hers. That was fine with me. I used every condom in my wallet and still wished I’d brought more. Taylor wanted to do everything. EVERYTHING. After we were both worn out I tried to talk to her but she just rolled over and in an irritated voice told me to get lost. I did as she asked. And the next day when I returned to tell her how much I wanted to see her again she made it clear she didn’t feel the same and that was that.

  Until the night of The Outpost.

  I stopped jerking off and flopped back on the bed, unsatisfied. My dick was unhappy but he’d live.

  The problem was that Taylor had now become a lot more than a steamy memory. She was beautiful and smart and complicated, with problems I couldn’t even relate to. She was someone I kept thinking about, kept worrying about, kept wanting to know in ways that had nothing to do with sex.

  “Stand down,” I grumbled to my blue balls before stripping down to my boxers and shutting off the light.

  Meanwhile, in a neighboring room my kid brother had resumed his wall banging. Seriously, what the fuck? He wouldn’t be able to stand up tomorrow, let alone go on one of his million mile runs that he was so fond of.

  “Call it a night!” I yelled and rapped on the wall.

  They toned down the volume. Slightly. I hoped Angie was able to get some sleep in this circus.

  I rolled to my side, sandwiched my head between two pillows and tried to doze off. Half an hour later I was still trying. At least the apartment was temporarily silent. I decided a midnight snack of the leftover hot wings in the fridge would probably help me sleep so I crept out to the kitchen.

  Angie was sound asleep on the couch. She snored as loud as a chainsaw. I was reaching for the handle of the fridge when I thought I heard a knock at the door. I waited for a few seconds and then it came again.

  The room was dark and I cracked my ankle on the coffee table as I stumbled to the door. Someone probably had the wrong apartment. It happened sometimes, especially because there was an apartment 2060 West and an apartment 2060 East.

  But she did not have the wrong apartment. And she looked like she’d gone through hell to get here.

  Behind me I heard Angelica’s voice but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the fact that Taylor was standing here with blood on her face and tears in her eyes and I could swear I heard my own heart crack in half as I said her name.

  She reached for me and sobbed while I held her and said the things that I thought she needed to hear the most.

  “It’s all right now. You’re safe.”

  As she cried in my arms I swore to myself that this time I wouldn’t let her go.

  If anyone tried to hurt this girl ever again they’d have to tear through me first.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Taylor

  For a few minutes people popped up from everywhere and confusion reigned.

  There was the pretty Hispanic girl who gawked at me from the living room.

  There was Thomas emerging in his underwear.

  There was yet another girl, a blonde this time, who exited the portal of Thomas’s bedroom with a sheet wrapped around her petite body. I could see her nipples anyway.

  Thomas wondered if we should call the police. Kellan kept his arm around me as he led me to the couch where Girl #1, Angelica, had been sleeping until I barged in. It seemed she was just a friend who was crashing here after she partied too hard to drive home. She was sweet and concerned and even had a boyfriend, which she was quick to explain to me as Kellan and Thomas put their heads together to talk quietly for a moment.

  As for Girl #2, Thomas’s date, she perched on the edge of the coffee table in her sheet and asked if anyone had ever told me that I looked like a young Nicole Kidman only slightly less pretty. I could still see her nipples.

  “Would you like some ice?” asked a worried Angelica. “It would probably help with the swelling on your face.”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said.

  She smiled before venturing into the kitchen to forage for ice and I was glad she hadn’t been in bed with Kellan tonight, although the fact that I was wondering about Kellan’s sex partners at a time like this was a little fucked up.

  “I don’t want to call the police,” I told the Gentry brothers because I knew that was what they were talking about. “And I really don’t need to go to the hospital.”

  Kellan returned to my side. He examined my face, which I was certain had looked better. He’d located a shirt to throw on and if he’d been sleeping before, he was wide awake and alert now.

  “Can you tell you me about the girl who attacked you in the park?” he asked.

  “Sure. She said her name was Haley. She acted friendly at first. Then she turned into a purse snatching demon with a busted flip flop.”

  “I’m sure you put up a good fight,” said Thomas, trying to be helpful over there in his white briefs. Did the boy not own a full set of clothes? So far every time I’d seen him he was in some state of nudity. But then again, I was the one who kept interrupting his life and not the other way around so I really should stop bitching to myself inside my head.

  “I’m not a good fighter,” I admitted.

  Thomas wanted to look on the bri
ght side. “I’m sure you did your best. I bet she looks like crap right now.”

  “Oh, she looked terrible. But not because I hit her. I couldn’t even manage to get in a single slap. She looked terrible because that’s just how she looked. Being homeless does that to you.” I choked out a laugh. “I mean, look at me.”

  Kellan winced at my words. He looked positively tortured, like he was somehow blaming himself for my sorrows. I touched his hand in the hopes that he would smile but he covered my hand with his and continued to look miserable.

  Angelica returned with a very competent cold compress made of dishtowels and ice. She gently pressed it to my swollen nose. “I’ve got some ibuprofen in my purse if you want some,” she offered.

  “I would love some. Right now I hurt in places I didn’t know I possessed.”

  “Ouch,” said Angelica, eyeing the blood on my shirt.

  I decided to try and lighten the mood so that everyone would stop looking so tragic. “Wait, I didn’t tell you this part. It’s kind of funny. While I was getting mugged there was this couple fooling around in the shadows a few feet away and I swear they didn’t even look up while I got my ass kicked all over town. When the girl finally noticed that I was standing there and inconveniently bleeding she accused her date of wanting to hook up with me. Then she stormed off while he cried something like, ‘Ashington wait, please don’t leave me!’”

  Kellan managed to crack a smile. “At least you held onto your car keys,” he said, noticing that they remained clutched in my right hand.

  “Yeah, that’s another thing.” I set the keys down on the coffee table. “My car’s dead. It’s still hanging out in a parking lot at Tempe Town Lake.”

  “What?” He was startled. “You walked all the way here?”

  “Hobbled is more accurate.” My knee was throbbing. My skinned palms could use some antiseptic. “That psycho took my phone along with my purse so I couldn’t exactly call anyone for help.”