Toxic Bad Boy

by April Brookshire

  She stopped me with a hand on my arm again. “Caleb, we can still be friends, right?”

  Turning back to her, I shook her arm off to make my stance clear. “I wouldn’t do that to my girlfriend.”

  The doors were unlocked at seven o’clock and people began steadily streaming in. I was told by my mom, who acted as my agent, that mine and Sydney’s paintings were moderately priced. I’d heard my mom brag on the phone to one of her artsy friends that my work was as good as Sydney’s even though she’d been to art school. Her enthusiasm was embarrassing.

  My dad and Julie were among the first arrivals. I’d warned my mom ahead of time so she wouldn’t be blindsided. My mom hadn’t been serious with anyone since the divorce years ago and I wondered if it hurt to have my dad’s happiness rubbed in her face. Julie would be polite tonight whether she meant it or not.

  Even I had to admit Julie looked good. My dad beamed, obviously thrilled at the reconciliation. I spotted my mom pursing her lips as they entered and promptly turning her back on them.

  The grownups could work things out amongst themselves.

  Gianna and her dad showed up twenty minutes into the show. She’d worn the dress and as a bonus her lips were painted a matching red. Later tonight that lipstick would be smeared.

  “I’m really nervous for you,” she whispered as I grabbed her hand and led her to get something to drink.

  Her dad had wandered off to look at the paintings. Each work had a little metal rectangle underneath with the painting’s and artist’s names engraved. It was strange to see my name like that.

  Handing her a glass of water, I said, “Don’t be nervous, I’m not.”

  She nodded, taking a sip. “Okay.”

  From across the room, I saw Norah staring at us with barely veiled jealousy. The emotion was easy to recognize, having felt it so strongly for the two weeks I’d thought Gianna was with Gage. Heading in the opposite direction, I showed Gianna Sydney’s work and some of mine she hadn’t seen.

  My mom came over to give Gianna a hug. “How are you, sweetie?”

  “I’m good and how are you?” she asked my mom.

  My mom gestured around. “Incredibly proud of my son at the moment.”

  It was good to hear. I hadn’t made my mom proud very often over the past few years. “Me too,” Gianna agreed.

  “Tell Caleb to bring you with him next time he comes over for dinner.”

  “Okay,” Gianna said, grinning at me.

  “I have to go check with Debra about something.” My mom squeezed my girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll see you later.”

  Gianna turned a sweet smile on me. “I think she’s your second biggest fan.”

  Pulling her closer, I looked down at her. “And who’s my number one fan?”

  “My mom?” she joked, unable to hold a straight face.

  “I’m bored. Want to go make out it Jim’s office?”

  She tilted her head as if mulling the idea over. “Won’t people wonder where you are?”

  As if on cue, I heard Jim call my name. “Caleb!” He approached with a smaller middle-aged man. “Meet Thomas Schwartz from Denver Life Magazine.”

  I shook Thomas Schwartz’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” Pulling Gianna forward, I added. “This is my girlfriend, Gianna.”

  Jim’s eyes studied her and I knew he was checking her likeness to that of the painting hiding in the back. “Good to meet you, Gianna.”

  “If you have a few minutes free,” Thomas Schwartz said. “I’d like to interview you for an article I’m writing, Caleb.”

  At Jim’s nod, I agreed, “Of course, Mr. Schwartz.” Seeing Chris talking to my dad nearby, I told Gianna, “I’ll be back in a bit, go hang out with our parents.”

  She frowned at the order, her eyes flashing annoyance. “Yes, Caleb.”

  “Is that the girl from the violent painting Jim has stashed in the back?” Thomas asked.

  I shot Jim an unhappy look. “That one wasn’t supposed to be in the show.”

  Jim shrugged remorselessly. “It’s one of your best and being sold as a set with the football player.”

  “Could you please not mention it in the article?” I asked Thomas.

  “Of course,” he answered. “But could I ask you some questions about your time spent in youth corrections and the subjects of the other paintings?”

  Those paintings were much less painful to talk about in comparison to the one of Gianna. After the interview with Thomas Schwartz, Jim guided me over to a reporter from 5280 magazine for a similar set of questions. I spotted Debra making Sydney do the same rounds. After the Rocky Mountain News, there was the reporter from the Denver Post.

  By the time we finished, thirty minutes had passed and I didn’t see Gianna anywhere.

  *****

  GIANNA

  A girl with dark brown hair, wearing an ivory dress and heels, came up next to me as I stood admiring one of Sydney Atwood’s paintings. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “She’s really talented,” I replied, smiling at the girl next to me.

  “So is Caleb,” the girl said, grabbing my full attention at the use of just his first name. It wasn’t hard to guess who she was. “I’m Norah, by the way.”

  “Gianna,” I introduced myself, although she must know since her roommate tracked me down like a crazy person.

  Norah returned my smile. “I know, I recognized you from the painting.”

  “Painting?” I asked, confused. I’d walked the entire show while Caleb was busy speaking to different people. There hadn’t been any paintings of me. I’d recognized Ian in the zoo painting and barely held back laughter. People would’ve thought something was wrong with me if I’d unleashed my amusement.

  “Didn’t you see it?” Norah asked in bewilderment.

  Scanning the large open space, I said, “No, I think I’ve seen everything.”

  She pointed a manicured finger. “It’s right back there. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  As I followed her, I noticed she exaggerated the sway of her hips like a runway model. I couldn’t help comparing myself to the girl Caleb had briefly dated. She was really pretty and dressed well, even if her dress was a little too short. If I didn’t know for certain I had Caleb’s heart, I’d be seething with jealousy.

  Purposely, I pushed away the reminders of what they’d probably done together.

  Norah led me to a secret little room. The walls were a stark white and only two paintings hung on one wall next to each other. Two small spotlights glared down on my nightmare. In one painting was Josh, horrifying in his fury, and the other was me in the worst night of my life, broken and bleeding.

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to contain the sob threatening to escape. Backing away from the paintings, I hit a wall. My emotions were wild and I couldn’t understand what these paintings were doing here.

  “Are you all right?” Norah asked in phony concern, her face close to mine.

  Instead of responding, I ran away from my nightmare and right into what I’d thought was my dream. Caleb stood not far from the secret room, obviously looking for me.

  Upset, I rushed toward him and pulled my hand back to slap him. The ring of my palm hitting his cheek caused a shocked gasp from an elderly woman nearby.

  “How could you?” I yelled at him, uncaring of our audience. “How many people have seen it?”

  His arms reached for me, but I backed up and saw my dad heading straight for me with a determined look on his face. I finally took in the people around us. From some of the pitying expressions I knew which ones had seen the painting so far.

  “Gianna,” my dad said. “What’s going on?”

  My mom and Scott weren’t far behind him.

  “I’m sorry,” Caleb said in a tortured voice. “I hadn’t meant for it to be in the show.”

  “Then why did you paint it?” I asked, becoming more hurt and angry by the second. And where had that bitch, Norah, run off to?

  He looked guilty and
miserable but I did not give a damn. Whirling away from him, I told my dad, “I’m ready to go home.”

  “Gianna, wait,” Caleb protested.

  Again, I did not give a damn.

  Not meeting anyone’s eyes to avoid seeing the sympathy they’d reveal, I let my dad lead me out the gallery entrance and to his car. “What happened back there?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb.

  Wiping away the tears, I looked out the window. “Caleb and I just broke up again. I really don’t want to talk about it, dad.”

  “What did he do?” my dad asked in a protective tone.

  “Something unforgivable.”

  *****

  CALEB

  I stood staring at a spot on the floor until my mom said, “Caleb, I’m sorry. I should have insisted they weren’t included.”

  “I want them taken down,” I growled, heading for the little back room.

  My mom was behind me as I came to a halt at what I found. There Norah stood, fidgeting nervously with a worried look on her face. “You fucking bitch,” I hissed. “Get out of my sight before I do something that gets me arrested again!”

  Hurrying past me, she scurried like the fucking rat she was. Jim showed up, his eyes wide in panic. I realized that little room was a cell containing my worst crime. I never should have painted them and Gianna definitely never should have been forced to see them.

  “Whoa, wait a second, Caleb,” Jim protested. “We have a contract.”

  “Leave him alone,” my mom snapped.

  “I’m seventeen, I doubt it’s legal.” Stacked on top of each other, I shoved them at Jim. “I don’t care what you do with them, but I better not see those again.”

  At the relief on his face, I wanted to punch him. “They’ve already sold. I’ll just store them in my office for now.”

  “I’m leaving,” I told my mom as I pushed past Jim.

  “Okay, honey,” she said softly at my back.

  My dad stood next to an equally worried Julie. “Caleb.”

  “Not now, dad. I’ll be home later.”

  As I walked away from them, I heard Julie say, “Scott, I need to go make sure Gianna is all right.”

  I’d hurt my girl again when I promised not to. This time I had no excuse for it and I didn’t know if she’d be able to forgive me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”

  -Mahatma Gandhi

  GIANNA

  Cell phone in hand, I read his latest text message.

  I’m at your door. Your dad won’t let me in.

  I hit reply. Go away, Caleb.

  I hate that I hurt you.

  Go away, Caleb.

  I just need to see you.

  I walked over to my window and texted, Look up at my window.

  He backed out onto the grass and saw me holding up my middle finger as I mouthed, go away.

  From his clenched jaw and drawn eyebrows, he didn’t like the message. I watched as he stalked to his car and got behind the wheel.

  And sat.

  An hour later he was still parked outside my house.

  He finally disappeared around three o’clock and I figured he’d gotten hungry.

  *****

  Plopping down at my desk, I flipped open my laptop. I hated reading emails on my phone, the screen was too small and I sometimes hit the wrong keys by accident.

  I deleted most of the new emails all at once in bulk, ones from department stores and social media notifications. Two emails remained, one from a dance blog I subscribed to and another from an email address I didn’t recognize with the subject line, Funny Pictures of Gianna.

  Clicking it open, I scrolled down to check out the pictures and couldn’t breathe. Through a full blown panic attack, I struggled to call out for my dad. Collapsing back into the chair, I hyperventilated in helplessness. It felt as if my heart was trying to pound out of my chest. At the same time I had the scary sensation that my body was being squeezed into a ball. Through my dizziness, I threw up into my trash can.

  Bent over, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing like my therapist had taught me. Over and over, I reminded myself it couldn’t hurt me. It’d been awhile since my last panic attack and the unexpectedness of it had left me unprepared. The last few time it’d happened, I’d been in public. My home had become a safe haven, or so I’d thought.

  It took what felt like forever, but was probably only several minutes, to calm down. My chest hurting and arms tingling, the moment it was possible, I screamed for my dad. Grabbing several tissues from a Kleenex box, I wiped my face and nose.

  His footsteps stomped up the stairs and he burst through my door. “Gianna?”

  Instead of answering, I pointed to the laptop screen I’d avoided looking at during my freak out.

  He drew near, his eyes focusing on the screen. “What the hell?” In a fast move, he slammed the laptop shut. At my flinch, he pulled me out of the chair and guided me to my bed. “Do you know who sent those?”

  My whole body shook and my dad squeezed me to him. “It had to be Josh,” I said on a deep shudder.

  “The police assured us his access to any form of communication was heavily restricted.”

  The youth correction facility Josh had been sent to north of Denver for really bad teen offenders had sent a letter to our lawyer listing the precautions they’d taken so he couldn’t contact me. His stay there was specifically tailored for his violent and obsessive tendencies. “Dad, I don’t know who else it could be.”

  “Gianna, two other people were there that night before the police and paramedics arrived.”

  “Caleb wouldn’t do this,” I protested.

  “What about that other kid, Ian?”

  I was pretty sure Ian wouldn’t either. “He’s my friend and he’s still locked up until school starts in August.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Dad, he got arrested for beating up Josh. Do you really think he’d send pictures of me from the night of the attack?”

  The pictures were horrible. The real life version of what Caleb had painted. I understood what Caleb had found in that cafeteria. Me, a broken mess. The image had been burned into his mind, causing him to transfer it onto canvas.

  My dad still held me against him, his strength comforting. “Then Josh must have taken the pictures with his cell while you were unconscious before he left the cafeteria and someone got a hold of the phone. If the police had submitted the phone as evidence, those pictures would’ve never come to light. Josh’s cell phone must have been lost in the shuffle that night.”

  “What if whoever sent them posts them online?” I asked in horror.

  “Listen, Gianna, we need to take this to Officer Novak tomorrow morning. I’ll call him tonight and ask him to meet us at the station or come to the house.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, wishing none of this was happening. Wishing I didn’t want Caleb’s arms around me right now. “Dad, I’m scared to sleep alone tonight.”

  “Do you want to invite Cece over?” he asked. “Or I can drive you to your mom’s house. She’s worried about you.”

  “You told her about the letters?”

  “Of course I did. She’s your mother and she has the right to know.”

  “I’ll call Cece,” I rushed to say as I imagined my mom insisting I move back in with her.

  *****

  I awoke to the sound of Cece throwing up in my bathroom. It sounded painful and I felt sick myself at the thought of her puking back up the pizza we’d ordered late last night.

  Hovering in the doorway, I took in the sight of her kneeling over the toilet. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  Cece flushed, pulling some tissue out of the box on the counter. “A time machine.”

  “I thought you were happy about the baby.”

  She got to her feet and began brushing her teeth with the toothbrush she kept here. “I haven’t spoken to Dan
te in almost two weeks and my parents still don’t know. Pretty soon I’ll start showing so I won’t be able to hide it anymore.”

  “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time, but I’ll always be there for you.”

  She smiled pathetically around the toothbrush in her mouth. “Both our lives are a mess. You broke up with Caleb again because he was a dick and you have a stalker.”

  “I’m thinking of getting my GED and moving to live with my grandparents in Arizona.”

  “Can I go with you?” she joked and spit into the sink. “I might as well start looking into getting my GED. Who the heck is going to take care of my baby while I go to school? My parents are busy with the restaurant.”

  “Dante’s mom would help out, even if he’s being a dumbass.”

  “I hate him,” she said, her eyes watering.

  “Is he still calling?”

  She sniffed. “Not since Friday night. What if he met another girl?”

  “He has enough problems, Cece. I doubt he’d be stupid enough to add another girl to the mix. Besides, he loves you and he’s just scared.”

  “I’m scared! You don’t see me running to a clinic for an abortion.”

  “Well, I think you made the right decision. I can’t wait to meet him or her.” I clapped my hands together. “Now that you’re stomach is empty, how about we go downstairs and fill it back up?”

  “I am hungry,” Cece said, rubbing her still flat belly.

  “How about leftover pizza?” I teased.

  She groaned dramatically. “Anything but that.”

  Cece left after breakfast, having told her parents she’d help with the Sunday lunch rush. Knowing I was freaked out, she promised she’d spend the night again tonight. She’d quit ballet altogether now that she was pregnant and I’d missed class yesterday because of Friday night’s drama.