Level Up: Violent Circle: Book Five

by Shade, S. M.

  The plan was to go out to eat after bowling and Silvy’s has good food, so why not?

  The place is crowded and we’re lucky to get a table. “Would you like something to eat?” I ask.

  “Nah, I’m not hungry.” The waitress appears to take our order, and she gets a Long Island iced tea. “And keep them coming,” she tells her.

  Okay, I guess we’re drinking. I wanted to get out and have a good time, and I can always leave my truck and get us a taxi after. She grins at me when I order a beer and a shot. “I was hoping you weren’t going to be a wet blanket. Tell me you aren’t one of those guys who doesn’t dance because I love to shake my ass.”

  Laughing, I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the ache of my tailbone. Alcohol should help that at least. “I can dance my ass off.”

  “Don’t do that. It’s a nice ass.”

  The waitress drops off our drinks and we make short work of them. The pleasant buzz fills me, and I feel my mood improve as the band starts playing.

  “Dance with me!” Diana insists. She drains her second drink. I’m not trying to count, but I’m a little amazed that after four beers and two long island iced teas—which I know are heavy on alcohol—she’s still fine.

  “Let’s go.” She squeals as I take her hand and we join the already crowded dance floor. The next few minutes educate me on two things. One, some people take a little while longer to feel the effects of alcohol until it hits them like a train. And two. There are women who can’t dance no matter how drunk they are.

  I don’t mean she has no rhythm or she’s a little awkward. She dances like her clothes are on fire and she can’t figure out how to put them out. “Come on!” she cries, slurring her words when she sees I’ve taken a few steps back.

  I don’t know how she expects me to get close to her when she’s flailing like that, flapping her arms around like a coked up chicken, jerking in one direction then another. An empty space has formed around her as the other patrons give her a wide berth, so they don’t get knocked out. She seems to take it as an encouragement, like they all formed this circle around her to watch her dance. The phones now pointed in her direction probably only add to that.

  “Trey,” she calls, stretching out my name. “Dance with me.” Stumbling over her own feet, she almost falls, then looks around angrily like someone tried to trip her.

  “Diana, let’s take a break, get some food. I’m hungry,” I implore, taking her hand and trying to lead her away.

  She scoffs. “You don’t look like you’re starving to death. I want to dance!”

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have the urge to abandon her drunk ass right here, but I can’t do it. Like it or not, she’s my date and my responsibility until I can get her home. A smile jumps to her face. “I could use a drink though.”

  No way am I buying her any more drinks, and I let the waitress know that when I order a sampler platter of appetizers, hoping I can get her to put some food in her stomach to soak up the alcohol.

  “What? This is bullshit! You don’t tell me when I can drink!”

  The waitress points out that they can refuse to serve anyone when they feel the person has had enough and tells her she’s cut off. Fuming, she leans back in her seat and glares at the waitress. As infuriating as she’s being, I almost laugh because the expression of petulance on her face is right out of a cartoon.

  The waitress glances at me. “Would you like the appetizers in a to-go box?”

  Hint taken.

  “That’d be great, thank you.” I’ll have to make sure to tip her well.

  As soon as she’s gone, Diana grins and pulls a half pint of whiskey out of her purse. Unscrewing the lid, she takes a couple long swallows and burps so loud it sounds like a bullfrog.

  This chick is a nightmare.

  All I want to do now is get her home and pretend this date never happened. As soon as the food is delivered, I call a taxi. She still refuses to eat anything, and I give up. It probably wouldn’t make much difference now anyway, with the amount she’s had to drink. Leaving the waitress a large tip, I lead Diana outside, practically holding her up as she protests that she wants to dance and informs me that I’m no fun.

  The taxi hasn’t shown yet, and it’s cold out, but I’m hoping the bitter air will sober her up a bit. It doesn’t. The band starts up again, and the music filters through the windows to the parking lot. “Whoo! This is my jam right here!” she shouts, drawing the attention of a few others who have stepped outside to smoke or get some air.

  She resumes what she considers dancing, and I can hear the laughter from around us. Fuck, where is that taxi? Her foot slips, and she hits the ground hard enough for change to fall out of her pockets and bounce across the pavement.

  “Are you alright?” I reach down to help her up, and she pulls away from me.

  “I’m fine!”

  Right. She’s fine. Just spitting out coins like Sonic the Hedgehog. Sighing, I help her to her feet. She jerks away from me, and her elbow smashes into my nose. I slap my hand over it, my eyes instantly fill with water, and blood pours down the front of my shirt.

  A couple who were standing in the parking lot smoking rush over. “Dude, are you okay?”

  It hurts like a bitch, but I don’t think it’s broken. “Yeah,” I mumble.

  The woman hands me a wad of tissue. “Pinch your nostrils and hold your head forward,” she advises.

  Diana stands by and watches everything like she’s at a damn play. I’ve never wanted to be rid of a woman so badly. The bleeding doesn’t last long, and I manage to get the blood cleaned off my face and neck with the tissues. My shirt has had it, though.

  The taxi pulls up, and I quickly thank the couple for their help and usher the crazy bitch into the backseat.

  “Okay, what’s your address?” I ask Diana.

  A strange gurgling sound is her reply. Oh no.

  The car hasn’t even made it out of the parking lot when she bends over and pukes into his floorboard, then passes out. This shit cannot be happening to me.

  “That’s a fifty-dollar cleaning fee,” the driver advises me, not seeming particularly concerned. He must see this often. “Where to?”

  Rolling down my window before the smell of vomit makes me follow suit, I rack my mind. “I don’t know where she lives,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair.

  The expression on the driver’s face makes it clear he doesn’t consider that his problem. I don’t see another choice. “You know where Violet Circle is?”

  “Yep.” That’s all he says until we pull into the circle and I guide him to my apartment.

  “Can you hang here for just a second while I get a towel?”

  “It’s your money.”

  Denton is the only one awake when I enter, throw an old blanket over my bed, and grab a beach towel. I’m going to have to carry her in and I don’t want puke on me.

  He does a double take at the sight of my bloody shirt and swollen nose. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Hold the door open,” I order, rushing back outside. Another attempt at waking her fails, and Denton approaches the car.

  “Is she passed out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute.” Throwing the towel over her, I pick her up and pull her out of the car.

  “Dent, can you tip the driver? I’ll give it back when we get inside.”

  “I got it.” He pays him, and the taxi pulls away. It occurs to me as I’m holding her, what this would look like to a passerby. I’m covered in blood and carrying an unconscious woman into my apartment. People are going to think I’m a serial killer.

  Sasha’s face flashes through my mind. Sasha and her fear of serial killers in the closet.

  Denton holds the door open while I carry the crazy bitch inside and put her on my bed. He grins at me when I return to the living room. “So, good date?”

  “Fuck off. She passed out and I don’t know
where she lives. She’s a nightmare. I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

  “You can just take the bed in the guest room. Sasha moved back to her apartment tonight. I guess they’re allowing the tenants back in.”

  Shit. Sitting on the edge of the couch, I let out a sigh.

  “Man, what did you think was going to happen? You didn’t exactly keep the date a secret.”

  “It’s fine. We were just fucking around anyway.”

  Not one ounce of me believes that, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever we had is over. It’s better that she went home. “I’m going to shower,” I grumble.

  Washing off the blood and sweat of the night makes me feel better, as does the leftover pain pill from the hospital combined with an ice pack on my nose. After Denton goes to his room, I open the door to the guest room.

  The smell of Sasha’s shampoo or body wash, or whatever it is that makes her smell like an apple orchard washes over me. She hasn’t been gone a whole night and I miss her.

  The bed is still made, and I fall into it, breathing her scent in the sheets and pillows as I fall asleep.

  “What the fuck!” A shrill scream is the next thing I’m aware of. Pulling my eyes open, I blink against the early sunlight. Last night’s events rush back to me, and I leap to my feet, racing to my room.

  Diana sits on the edge of my bed. “I couldn’t take you home since I didn’t know where you live,” I explain quickly.

  She glares up at me. “We didn’t even fuck.”

  “No.”

  “What, are you gay or something? Or you think you’re too good for me?”

  For fuck’s sake, she’s mad I didn’t take advantage when she was unconscious? “I’m not gay. Just not into necrophilia.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I grab my phone and order a taxi. “There’s a taxi on the way. It’ll be here in just a minute. Already paid for.”

  A frown crumples her face, then she leans back and grins at me, letting her legs fall open where I can see the crotch of her panties under her skirt. “I know something else that’s already paid for. What’s your hurry?”

  This time I might be the one to puke. My phone beeps. “You need to wait outside. The taxi is three minutes away.” They must not have much business this early in the morning.

  If I thought for a second she was going to try to salvage any sense of self-respect out of this, I was wrong.

  Her screech echoes through the apartment, and I’m sure the neighbors can hear too. “Fuck you, you limp dick motherfucker!”

  Becca and Denton appear at my bedroom door in seconds. Becca glares at me. “Trey, what the fuck is going on?”

  Denton nods at me, and I know he told her about last night. The evidence is still clear on my face since my nose is swollen and one eye is a bit dusky. “All I did was let her know I called her a cab. I already paid for it.”

  “I’m not getting in no fucking cab!” she spits out.

  “Yes, you are. Your car is parked at the bowling alley. It can take you there or home. I don’t care, but you’re leaving.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She crosses her arms like a petulant child. “You spent the night with me, now you owe me breakfast. And some hair of the dog cause my head hurts.”

  Glancing back at my friends, I shake my head. “What do I do, call the cops? I can’t just drag her out of here.”

  Becca walks up to me and runs a finger over the bruise under my eye. “I can,” she growls.

  Before I can say anything, she grabs her by the hair and yanks her out of bed. Diana’s feet scrabble on the ground until she manages to stand up. Still holding her by her hair, Becca marches her through the house and out the front door. I follow with Diana’s purse. I’m not giving her any reason to come back here.

  When we get outside, the taxi is waiting. Becca hisses something into her ear I can’t hear and opens the car door.

  “Here,” I call, tossing the purse in after her and closing the door. A litany of curses and insults are audible until the taxi gets a few apartments away. Relief fills me at being rid of her, but I look up to see a good number of the neighbors watching from porches and windows.

  Great. Nice early morning show for everyone. Glad Sasha isn’t here.

  Becca turns to me. “I don’t know what the hell that was about, but you’re too good to be dating skanks like that, Trey. It’s a wonder she didn’t rob us in the middle of the night.”

  She stalks off, leaving me feeling about three inches tall.

  * * *

  The next couple of weeks seem to drag by. I can’t count how many times I’ve picked up my phone to text Sasha, just to set it back down again. There’s no point. She made it clear from the beginning what she wanted, and I should’ve believed her.

  It’s Saturday night and in a rare occurrence, Denton, Noble, and I are hanging out at the apartment. Since they started dating Jani and Becca, we haven’t spent much time without the girls. Not that I blame them.

  Jani has dragged Becca—and probably a few other women—out for a girl’s night. Noble snorts and holds up his phone to show us a picture of a flyer advertising a male stripper night at a bar in the next town. “They won’t be home anytime soon.”

  Noble sits back and takes a swig of his beer. “You two are going to graduate this spring.”

  “We’re about to level up,” I reply, grinning at the thought of all the changes to come.

  “That’s the plan,” Denton says. “I’m just finishing up my internship. I’ll take my final for my last class in a week.”

  Noble glances at me and I nod. “I have one more class that starts in January.”

  “Are you both planning to move?”

  That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? We haven’t really discussed where we’re going from here. Maybe like me, they don’t like to think about breaking up the Frat Hell group, but it’s happened through a gradual process anyway. Kenny is gone, Noble has moved, though only down the street. He only has another year or so for his master’s degree, and who knows where he’ll end up after that.

  Denton leans forward. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Trey. Becca and I are going to look for a place for us after I graduate. Somewhere between her work and mine.” Denton not only managed to land an incredibly sought after internship, he’s also accepted a full time job offer with the marketing firm after he graduates. It’s a good amount of money and I didn’t expect him to stay.

  Sighing, I take a drink. “Now who will leave their dirty socks everywhere and buy the cheapest food imaginable.”

  “We could go track down that last date you had. She seemed like a stable young woman.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I heard from Kenny the other day,” Denton says. “He’s going to jail.”

  Noble scoffs, “What did he do this time?”

  “It’s more what he didn’t do. They gave him community service for those theft charges before, and he didn’t complete it. That violated his probation. Now he has to serve three months. Guess his dad couldn’t get him out of that one.”

  Noble shrugs. “We tried to help him. He just has to learn the hard way.”

  “Have you heard from Neal recently?” I ask. Neal lived down the street for a few years and though he was older than us, and had a kid, we got to know him well.

  “No,” they both answer in unison.

  Draining my beer, a smile creeps onto my face. “You know, I realize he’s old and has kids and all, but I think it’s time he got a little reminder of us. We wouldn’t want him to forget.”

  They both grin at me and Noble asks, “What do you have in mind?”

  * * *

  The cashier at the superstore gave us the weirdest look but didn’t comment on our purchases. It’s probably not the usual stuff you see a bunch of college guys buying on a weekend.

  “Come on,” I whisper, glad to see Neal’s car is parked in the driveway behind his house and not in the garage.<
br />
  There’s no moon tonight and the only light is what seeps out through the windows. We can hear music playing and an occasional laugh from one of the kids. “They’re awake. We have to be quiet,” I whisper.

  Lucky break number two is ours when we find out the car door is unlocked. We had a back-up plan, but this is really what we wanted to do.

  “I’ll put the balls in if you guys start papering.”

  Denton and Noble nod and pull out pack after pack of brightly colored sticky notes. They start at the back of the car while I ease open a back door and grab one of a few huge bags we’ve brought along with us. The superstore had a deal going on those plastic balls that they use in kid’s ball pit playsets, and I bought them out.

  Chuckling to myself, I start dumping bags of them into the front seat. Once it’s full up to the tops of the seats, I do the same in the back. It’s a little difficult to finish filling the entire car since they keep falling out of the open door, but I finally manage it and get the rear door closed.

  Grabbing a few packs of sticky notes, I join the guys.

  It takes us hours.

  I can’t remember the last time we put so much time and energy into screwing over a friend, but I swear I’m going to miss this once we all move.

  Finally, every inch of the car is covered in sticky notes and we’ve spelled out the words Old Fuck in bright red ones across the windshield. Even the windows are covered so he can’t see what’s inside.

  The back screen door creaks open, and we all duck down. Noble grins at me, and we hear Denton’s chuckle from where he’s crouched on the other side of the car. We’re so close. We can’t get caught now.

  Silence stretches out and just as I’m starting to stand up, I hear a sharp, high-pitched bark. It’s quickly followed by a shriek I would’ve assumed only a woman could manage, but it came from Denton’s mouth.

  The outside security lights come on, illuminating something I’ll never forget as long as I breathe. Denton screams again and runs around the car, a small, brown ball of fur attached to the ass of his jeans.

  Neal runs outside with a baseball bat in his hands, then freezes at the sight of us. It’s not every day you think you’re being burglarized and end up watching a grown man beg his friends to get a chihuahua off of his ass.