by Arthurs, Nia
Meet me after your shift.
I wanted to stay and see him. More than anything. But what good would it do?
It could be about an assignment…
I resisted the urge to fall on that excuse. If James had a problem with his homework, I could help him over the phone or through Skype. We had no reason to meet up in person.
I lingered in indecision for five more minutes. The sunset raked the clouds with brilliant hues of orange and red. Birds cackled from the rooftop of the nearest building. The world was turning without me.
Make a decision, Monique.
I sighed and stepped off the stoop, heading for the main road.
It was time to go home.
I was planning what I would do when I got there—it was between homework and catching up on my favorite TV shows—when a purring engine sounded behind me. A pretty black car squealed to a stop near the sidewalk.
Isn’t that… James’s car?
He stepped out of the driver’s side, confirming my suspicion.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“You’re not late. I was leaving.”
He strode closer, his expression confused. “Why? I asked you to wait for me.”
“The last time I checked you don’t own me. I can come and go as I please.” I turned away.
Keep going, Monique. Don’t entertain him.
“Wait.” James swung in front of me. “Are you angry?”
“No.”
“You look angry.”
“This is my regular face.”
“Okay then.” He smoothly accepted my lie. “Let me give you a ride.”
“I have two working feet.”
“So do I. But it’s late and it’s getting dark.” A nearby lamppost popped on as if to emphasize his point. “Come on. It’s the least I can do.”
I eyed his fancy car and then glanced at the shadowy, deserted road. “Fine.”
“Awesome.” James grinned and escorted me back to his car.
I slid in and put on my seatbelt. We hadn’t even moved off yet and I was already regretting my decision to accept his ride. The scent of flowers filled the air. It was probably Marissa’s perfume. It smelled like her. Expensive. Classy.
I smelled like I’d worked two shifts at the diner and an evening shift at the pizza parlor.
“I didn’t know you worked there,” James said conversationally.
“Yeah.”
“You said you were new.”
“Mm-hm.”
He turned to me. “Are you tired?”
Unbelievably, but answering that question would mean getting personal. I was trying to steer my heart away from him, not toward him. James Sawyer could never be allowed past my walls.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Cool.”
Awkward silence descended. Every once in a while, James would ask me for directions and I’d provide them stiffly.
We stopped at a traffic light.
James shifted. Cleared his throat. I glanced at him, wondering why he was acting so strange. He finally spoke. “Uh, I hope you didn’t misunderstand what you saw today.”
“What did I see?”
“Marissa’s just a friend. Not even that. We’re doing a very important uh… project. It requires that we spend a lot of time together.”
He was lying. The way Marissa had been curled under his arm. The way he’d laughed with her, his eyes sparkling. They had to be dating.
Did he think I was a fool?
Or worse. Did he sense that I was in the beginning stages of crushing on him? Was this a gentle warning that he wasn’t looking for a relationship?
I stared straight ahead and said coldly, “It’s none of my business whether you’re dating or not. I don’t care.”
“Monique…”
The light turned green. The car behind us honked. “Let’s go.”
James drove.
I kept quiet.
Awkwardness pulsed between us. Finally, I spotted my apartment and told him to stop.
“Is this it?” He peered past me and gazed at the buildings.
I tried to see it from his perspective. Flecked paint. Rusted burglar bars. Overflowing garbage cans. Coming from a mansion, this place must look like a dump.
“Yeah, our villa’s being renovated. This is just a temporary thing.”
He chuckled.
I climbed out of the car and wiggled my finger. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you dropped me home. Make sure you finish your assignments for Monday.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I bounded toward the apartment. When I stepped into the foyer, I noticed Dad and Tito hanging by the door.
“Hey, Dad,” I said in surprise.
Tito whistled, his beady black eyes trained outside. “That was a nice ride.”
“Monique, who was that young man?” Dad squawked. “Are you hanging with drug dealers now?”
“Drug d—no! He’s a… friend from school.” I studied the sweat on Dad’s face. “What are you doing down here?”
“Uh…”
“We were just discussing some grown-up business,” Tito drawled.
“Yeah, it’s nothing.” Dad nudged me up the stairs. “Go on and help your mother with dinner. I’ll be right up.”
“O…kay.”
Something felt off, but I figured it was just Tito’s shady presence tainting the air.
The scent of frying chicken greeted me when I opened the front door. My stomach grumbled. Although I’d worked in food chains all day, I hadn’t stopped to eat once after breakfast.
Mom was in the kitchen.
“You’re home early,” I said, dropping my small purse on the sofa and collapsing beside it.
Mom wiped her slender hands on the back of her jeans. “Yeah.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I just realized that my baby is growing up without me. I’ve been so busy running in and out of here that I haven’t been spending any time with you.”
“It’s okay.” I squirmed.
“Not to me,” Mom said. “At least for tonight, I want us all to sit down and have a nice family dinner.”
The front door opened.
Dad walked in, a satisfied smile on his face. “How are my beautiful ladies?” He kissed me on the cheek and then strolled around and kissed Mom.
“What’s gotten into you?” Mom asked with a bemused grin.
“I got a new job.”
“What?” Mom’s eyes widened. Dad had been fired from his old job because of constant tardiness and low-efficiency.
In other words, my father was lazy.
He also urged his subordinates to gamble on work time. It caused a lot of fighting between the men. Dad’s boss was an old friend and he wanted to help us, but the worker’s complaints made it impossible to keep Dad on.
“Where?” I asked. “At another construction site?”
“Not sure yet.” Dad grinned. “All that matters is it pays well. From here on, I’m going to make sure you and Monique never have to work a day in your lives.”
Mom’s smile cracked but she forced an expression of cheer. “I know you will, honey.” Her eyes slid to mine.
Understanding passed between us.
Talk was cheap and my father’s vices were expensive, but I hoped—for both our sakes—Dad meant it this time.
11
The Lies We Tell
James
I was at my locker preparing for my first class Monday morning when Baz approached me. He wore his ever-present beanie, a black T-shirt and a concerned expression.
I jumped when he grabbed my shoulder. “Baz, what’s up?”
“James, man, are you feeling better today?”
“What?”
“We missed you at band practice.”
I slammed my locker. “What are you talking about? I didn’t miss practice. I quit.”
“Q-quit?” His eyes widened until they took over half of his face. “That’s
not what Eric said.”
“Eric told you I was sick?”
Baz nodded. “He said you wouldn’t be coming for a while but you’d be back soon. I was going to text you, but my family hosted a party for their church friends and my parents had me working from sun up till sundown. By the way, my mom said to stop by for some goat head soup.”
“Thanks.” I was concerned about Eric spreading lies, but I couldn’t help smiling. Baz’s mother made a mean goat head soup.
“So your dad finally forced you to quit?”
“Nah.”
We walked down the hallway. I kept an eye out for Marissa and Monique. The two girls had been dominating my thoughts lately. For largely different reasons.
“Then what happened? Did Eric push you out?”
“Sort of.” I explained to him everything Eric had told me about Harley and why he’d been booted. “There was no way I could work with him after that.”
Baz sneered. “I always knew Eric was an egomaniac, but I didn’t think he’d be that shallow. Harley struck me as a solid person. He didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m starting my own band. Want to ditch Eric and join me?”
“I don’t know. Eric has his flaws, but I made a commitment to him. Jumping ship like that wouldn’t feel right.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Let me think about it.”
I nodded. I respected Baz for standing by his principles instead of immediately dumping Eric for my band. It made me want him on my team even more. It was hard to find people who honored their commitments like that.
My dad was a prime example of how destructive breaking a promise could be. He made a marriage vow to my mother and then crapped all over it by sleeping with prostitutes.
If he’d divorce Mom and live the way he wanted, I’d respect him more. Instead, he dragged my mother around like a pet and used her to protect his ‘family man’ image.
“Are you going to invite Harley to join your band?” Baz asked, disrupting my bitter thoughts.
“Yeah. If I can get him to listen to me for five seconds.”
“What’s wrong? Does he hate you?”
“Yes, and I don’t know why. I’ve never even met the guy until recently.”
“Maybe it has something to do with her.” Baz jerked his chin forward. I saw Harley striding toward someone. He wore a big grin that grew brighter when the girl turned to him and laughed at whatever he said.
My insides twisted as I recognized the slope of her neck and the back of her head.
Monique.
“What do you think is so funny?” I mumbled gruffly.
“Not sure.”
The bell rang and Harley and Monique strolled away. The crowd between us prevented me from barging over and demanding to hear the joke.
Baz chuckled and slapped my back. “Good luck with that.”
“What do you mean?”
Baz just shook his head and walked away.
I frowned at his back and sent a dirty look at Harley before I spun and headed in the opposite direction.
School usually bored me. As a result, I zoned out during classes. I’d rather learn a new riff on my guitar or even study music notes than listen to random information I couldn’t use in real life.
But Monique was my tutor now and I didn’t want to look stupid in front of her.
For the first time in years, I started writing notes. I even raised my hand and asked a question. The teacher’s jaw dropped as if she hadn’t realized a living person had been slumped in the back row all these months.
My pen scribbled furiously.
I didn’t care about improving my grades. All I wanted was the sparkling smile that beamed from Monique when I got an answer right during tutoring.
Plus, I actually needed to make progress so I could keep her around. Something told me Monique wouldn’t hesitate to return all my money and send me packing if she felt I was wasting her time.
The bell rang.
Class was over.
I went to my next session with the same focus.
After, I headed to the cafeteria for lunch. Since Marissa was a senior, we had separate breaks but she snuck out of class to sit with me for a few minutes.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“I’m okay.” She seemed bright and cheerful. I wondered if she’d forgotten my rejection on Saturday. If not, she was doing a great job of pretending it never happened.
“We still need to agree on a day to tell our parents. The sooner we get that done, the better.”
“Why are you so eager to tell them? Aren’t you scared?”
Of course I was scared, but the deed was done. Marissa was pregnant, and I was the father. Pushing things off wouldn’t change those facts.
“It is what it is.”
She caressed her stomach. Marissa hadn’t started to show yet. The sliver of belly peeking out below her crop top was smooth and trim. “I was thinking of baby names last night.”
“That’s nice.” I was too stuck on how much the baby would cost to consider what we should call it. Names were free. Diapers weren’t.
“Are you busy after school? I was thinking we could meet up and talk about it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
I stared at my plate. “Uh, practice with the guys.”
“Oh.”
I flinched, unsure of why I’d lied.
“How about tomorrow then?” Marissa pressed.
“After school? I’ll be busy again.”
She scrunched her lips. “James, are you avoiding me?”
“I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. That’s all.”
Her phone vibrated. Marissa glanced down, her blonde hair swishing over her shoulders. “I need to head back to class.”
“I’ll call you,” I promised.
“Yeah.” With big, disappointed eyes, she climbed out of the bench and strode away.
I sunk deeper into my seat and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
Marissa was the mother of my child. The ramifications of that bounced around my head every time I saw her face. Ditching Marissa and the kid were not an option, but constantly spearing her in the heart with my disinterest felt like an equally hurtful move.
You’re just like your father.
Was I? I had two parents and everything I could ever want, but we were all miserable. Dad didn’t love Mom. Not the way he should. He provided for her, gave her a house and a car and a son, but his heart wasn’t in it.
The pressure to give in to Marissa and force myself to be with her for the sake of our child was strong, but then history would be repeating itself. I wanted more for my kid than to watch his parents tolerate each other.
If your intentions are so pure and noble, why’d you lie about what you were doing this evening?
It was a good question.
I had no answer.
My appetite gone, I dumped my food and headed out of the cafeteria. I considered ditching school, but in the end I forced myself to head to class.
I didn’t pay much attention to anything happening in front of the white board and, when the bell rung, I was stunned. Three hours had slipped by in a haze. I hadn’t heard a word.
So much for turning over a new academic leaf.
Slacking off meant nothing to me. Not when I was about to enjoy my favorite part of the day. I whistled a tune as I headed to the library.
The crowd in the hallway petered out and thinned to a slow trickle. Very few students used the library after school and the research section was even less occupied.
Monique was sitting around a table, one brown leg propped on the other. Her hair was slung in a low ponytail and tight black curls cascaded down her back. She was engrossed in the book clutched in her delicate hands. The sunlight bathed her warm brown skin and cast an orange sheen over her hair.
My heart panged.
I wasn’t sure why yet.
Maybe it was because Monique was someone
I could trust. She had seen a hint of my dad’s abuse and hadn’t told anyone yet.
Maybe it was because we were alike. Her father had ties to The Greasy Monkey, just like mine. We could understand each other on a deeper level, even if she didn’t want to admit to that connection.
I really didn’t care about the reason nor did I feel particularly eager to define it. I just… liked being around her. No matter how cold or cranky she got with me she still felt warm.
“Hey,” I said, slinging my backpack on the floor.
She glanced up, her brown eyes unreadable. “Hey.”
“How was your weekend?”
“Fine.”
“Did you work on Sunday?”
“No.”
Even though Monique always responded to my personal questions with one-word sentences, I wasn’t tired of trying. I had plenty of time to break down those concrete-slab walls of hers.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my weekend went?”
She glanced up with a stern frown. “All I’m interested in hearing is that you studied. Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I watched her write something down. Her hands were small. Her fingers were slender. She didn’t paint her nails. I found that strange for some reason. All the girls I hung around wore nail polish.
Monique glanced up and caught me staring at her. She frowned. “Take out your English book.”
I did. She patiently checked over my essay and gave tips on how to make it better. I forced myself to quit drooling over her and focus. By the time we were done, it was dusk.
Monique stretched. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. You have a test tomorrow. You should go home and study.”
“I insist. Unless… Harley’s coming to pick you up.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m walking.”
“Perfect.” I hopped up and took her hand, leading her out of the library. “I’m starving. Maybe we can get some burgers before we head home.”
Monique wiggled her hand out of mine, but at least she wasn’t making an excuse to dart for the exits. “Didn’t you eat lunch?”
“That was hours ago.”