GUY: A Graveyard Girl Spin-off Novel

by Ann, Bry

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “I’ve got the fam. Don’t worry.”

  “Try to be a kid for a minute, Alex.”

  “Bye, Guy. See you around.”

  She walks back to her mom’s side. Marley wraps her arms around Alex’s shoulders and it warms my heart to see Alex lean back into her for support. Frances approaches me slowly. It kills me to see he has his guard up.

  “If you kill yourself, I’ll murder Kiki.”

  Yep, that’s his goodbye. I'm not mad for two reasons. One, I won’t kill myself. Two, he wouldn’t follow through with it. He wouldn’t be able to.

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  Frances looks at his dress shoes.

  “You’re really going back. Again.”

  “I don’t know how to live here, man. I know I'm a coward.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “She knew what she was getting into. I never pretended to be anybody else.”

  “You won’t miss her?”

  “Of course I will. Like I miss all of you.”

  “And it’s still worth it?”

  “It—yes, no. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Alright. Take care of yourself and come visit soon.”

  “I will. I'm happy for you, old man. Really.” I glance over at his family.

  He nods. I hate leaving with this distance between us, but the captain is already tapping his foot, so I do the only thing I can think of.

  I hug him.

  Frances growls and pushes me away, as expected. But before he does, he hugs me back. Briefly. If I didn’t know him so well, I wouldn’t have caught it, but as it is, Frances is my oldest friend. My family.

  “Take care of yourself,” he says gruffly.

  “Will do, old man. You, too. Good luck with Alex and Marley.”

  The side of his lip tips up. “I need it.”

  Love you, man.

  * * *

  Kiki

  One Week Later

  “Kiki, can I come in?”

  My father stands awkwardly in the doorway. I nod and push to stand, planting another fake smile on my face.

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Sit down, pumpkin,” he says quietly.

  “Sure.”

  I do as he says. I know this is a 180 from the way I treated him a week ago, but if I let my feelings out about him, they’ll all come spilling out and I can’t allow that. I don’t give one shit if that’s healthy or not.

  “Stop lying.”

  “What?” I (fake) laugh.

  “I know you’re hurting, sweetheart.”

  I bristle. “I'm fine, Dad.”

  His lips pull tight. “Let me tell you something, Kiki. I know you think I abandoned you. I know I hurt you, but hun, it’s not all on me. It’s not. The year I after I moved, I called you every single day. You ignored more than half of those calls. I wrote you a letter and put plane tickets in it on day 365. I reached out to you. I tried to get tickets when you graduated high school. You cancelled them. I fell in love. I'm sorry I moved, but I fell in love. I didn’t commit a crime. I'm happy, Kiki, but I’d be a hell of a lot happier if you’d let me be your father again.”

  My heart rips and cracks at the seams.

  “I-I don’t need you. Not anymore.”

  Tears pool in my eyes.

  “Maybe, maybe not, but wouldn’t it be a hell of a lot easier to have some support?”

  “I have Rain!”

  My father smiles sadly. “You really are my daughter. So stubborn. I think I offer a different perspective than Rain, not that hers isn’t great.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “You’d judge.”

  “How many excuses are you gonna shoot at me? I won’t judge. Please. Remember who you’re talking to. At least try to.”

  “I'm lost.”

  My dad just nods and lets me continue as I fidget with the end of my overalls.

  “I know you hate his name, but it does no good to avoid it. Anthony…” My dad’s jaw clenches. “He-he controlled everything. Now he’s just… gone. I feel sick inside because part of me misses him taking charge of everything. Am I disgusting?” I whisper.

  My dad sighs, heavily.

  “Kiki, no. No, that’s—that’s completely normal. I won’t say I don’t hate that for you; I do. I hate that bastard. If I’d known, I’d probably have killed him myself.”

  He winces, because yeah, I think he knows Guy had Anthony killed.

  “Anyway,” he moves on quickly, “the point is, that’s normal. As strong and independent as you are, it’ll still take time to heal after that kind of abuse.”

  “I hate that he still has any control over me.”

  “Bruises are easy to heal from, but those scars in your heart, sweetheart, those take time.”

  “I’ve never heard truer words,” I mutter. “I’ll get over Anthony eventually. He just fucked me up for a good, hot minute.”

  “Yeah, he sure did, didn’t he?”

  I grin, appreciating my dad’s ability to joke for a second, even in the intensity of this moment.

  “So, I have to ask, ‘cause I'm your father, but your insistence on acting happy this week doesn’t have anything to do with the boy who left, does it?”

  “Guy?” I squeak at a pitch that is so obscenely, ridiculously high. “I barely know him.”

  “You think I was born yesterday?”

  “I kinda miss him.”

  “Why don’t you explain him to me? Explain to me why I shouldn’t want to wring his neck. Why is he different?”

  I shouldn’t tell my father. I still don’t trust him. My heart is still aching with childhood wounds of my daddy leaving.

  But I'm desperate. I'm desperate for the advice and approval only he can give.

  So I tell our story. Starting with the island, ending with, well, not the oral sex, but he gets the ending. He knows Guy and I shared one last night together. He probably thinks we had actual sex, even though we didn’t.

  “Wow,” my father says. “Jesus Christ, Kiki. Is there any trouble you didn’t get yourself into? I should have fucking kidnapped you. What the hell were you thinking, going to an island like that alone?!”

  “I—”

  “Jesus Christ, where the hell was your mother?”

  “She’s not in touch with my life, Dad.”

  “What about Rain?”

  “She freaked out.”

  “And you?! Good God, what were you thinking?!”

  “I was scared, Dad! I was fucking scared what Anthony would do when he found me! I’d rather have died on that island, the terror was that great.”

  “You had options. You had me!”

  “I didn’t know that!”

  “Good God, Katrina! I love you. I never stopped loving you or being your father. Fuck, even Kelsey,” his wife, “wants to know you. I just—I don’t understand how you can go to an island rather than ask me for help. Even just a place to stay.”

  “I admit, it wasn’t my smartest decision, but it worked out okay. I had a really good time. I-I was happy for a moment. I hadn’t been happy in a while, Dad.”

  “He made you happy, you mean?”

  “I mean, there was, well, I—Dad!”

  He chuckles a little, resigned. “So, he went back to his island?”

  I narrow my eyes and study my father, but he passes every one of my tests. If he’s holding judgement for Guy, he’s doing a hell of a good job at hiding it.

  “Yep.”

  I need a drink.

  “And you let him go? Alone?”

  “I—Dad,” I choke. “What else could I do? He wasn’t happy.”

  “But now you’re not happy.”

  “He’s done enough for my happiness. Plus, fuck, I just met him. I-I, Anthony just happened. I'm still healing. I… it… he…”

  “I'm not saying marry the guy, Kiki. I'm just saying there’s clearly
unfinished business between you two. He’s clearly struggling. You’re clearly struggling with him leaving. It seems simple to me.”

  “He’s not struggling. That’s the problem,” I mutter.

  “Oh, hun, I don’t need to be a psychiatrist to know that anyone who feels the need to be so far removed from society that they have be on a whole different island is struggling. Think about it. When you went to the island, where was your head at? Imagine living there.”

  Wow, I guess I never thought about it that way.

  “Well, then what are you saying, Dad?”

  My dad runs a hand over his face. “How dangerous is this island?”

  I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips.

  “Dad…” I side-eye him, still grinning.

  He groans. “Go get your closure, pumpkin. The lord knows you’ve suffered enough.”

  And for the first time in over ten years, I hug him.

  Guy

  I'm lonely.

  For the first time since I came to this island, I'm truly lonely. Down to my core. Sure, I’ve had waves of loneliness in the past, but this is different. I'm doing stupid, time-wasting shit, like fishing.

  I hate fish.

  I hate waiting for fish.

  I feel guilty when I hook them.

  But here I am.

  Fishing.

  Thinking of her.

  The woman, in an unhealthily short amount of time, snaked her way into my mind. Unfortunately, I love everything about her. I like her crazy long hair. I like her body. I like how strong she is when she has to be, even when she’s scared. I love the sounds she makes when she comes. And I fucking love how funny she is.

  Fuck.

  Marley, of all people, has texted me every day. The same question. In Spanish.

  ¿Tú vives?

  That’s “you alive” in Spanish, for all you non-Spanish speakers. Yeah, Marley’s not the queen of sensitivity. I really think that’s her trying to care, too. Gotta love her for that.

  Frances hasn’t texted me. So I'm pretty sure he put Marley up to these texts a bit, as well.

  I don’t get why Frances had such a hard time with me leaving this time. I don’t know why I had such a hard time leaving this time. I’ve been doing it for years.

  Ugh!

  With a growl, I throw the fishing rod down and spin on my heel. What I see has my jaw nearly disconnecting from my face.

  “That was the most pathetic attempt at fishing I’ve ever seen.”

  In front of me is a fucking vision. Dressed in tight black pants and a thick, army green jacket with a pony tail on the very top of her head is my favorite woman.

  “What are you doing here?” I breathe.

  She takes two steps closer to me, almost glowing.

  “I think I told you I’d watch over you for a bit, didn’t I?”

  I should tell her to leave…

  “I think you did,” is what comes out instead.

  Her smile grows. She takes one step closer…

  “Here I am, Guy.”

  Her eyebrows raise. Whatcha gonna do with that is what she asks nonverbally.

  “Get over here, sweetness.”

  I snatch the sides of her jacket and tug her into me. She doesn’t waste a second plunging her fingers through my hair as I plant my lips on hers. Our kiss is desperate, passionate, almost violent. All our pent-up emotions come out in one moment of passion. When she takes a step back to breathe, I cup her face.

  “I can’t believe you’d come here again.”

  “You’re here.”

  Fuck… me…

  I kiss her again and, this time, I grab her ass a bit, too, which makes her chuckle against my lips. She pulls away first.

  “Feed me, man. I'm hungry. I literally crossed the ocean to see you.”

  She actually did. Wow. Holy shit.

  “Sure, uh… what do you want?”

  “Guy,” she whispers, “don’t feel weird. You’re worth crossing oceans for.”

  “No, I'm not,” I mutter when she turns.

  “You coming?” she calls from the spot where the trees start to close in.

  “Oh, I'm coming.”

  … And I follow her, watching her ass the whole way as she hikes to my house using the directions I shout out to her. She’s got a damn fine ass and she knows it with those pants, so I don’t feel bad for looking. Especially when she looks back, winks, and shakes it a bit.

  When we get back to my house, she literally attacks the apples I have on the counter.

  “I’ll need more food,” she says through a mouthful of red apple.

  “Okay,” I chuckle, sort of enjoying watching her eat like a savage. As she chews and I prepare some oatmeal with dried fruits and nuts for sustenance, she leans up against the wall.

  “What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

  “Easy. Fox and the Hound.”

  The apple falls through her fingers.

  “No way! I just fell in love with you. That movie rips my heart out of my chest.”

  I laugh a little uncomfortably. “Fucking love that movie.”

  “Oh my God, wow. I thought you were gonna say Hercules or something.”

  “I mean, look, they are all classics. I love ‘em all, but that’s the fav. For sure.”

  “Anthony made fun of me when I watched that movie.”

  I stop what I'm doing and look at her. Her head is down. I know telling me that is hard for her. She feels shame for loving him, which is ridiculous.

  “Fuck him for that,” I whisper. “If he can’t appreciate Tod and Copper, he never deserved you.”

  She faceplants into my chest, something that is quickly becoming a thing between us.

  “I agree.”

  I wrap an arm around her. “Keeks, I don’t know how to do this thing. I'm a loner, baby. I'm meant to be alone.”

  Without lifting her head from my chest, she slides her hands up and snatches my hair.

  “Am I unlovable?” she asks, kissing my left pec.

  “No.”

  “Am I dirt because Anthony hit me?” She kisses my right pec.

  “Fuck no.”

  “Am I worthy?” She kisses my heart.

  “Of everything, Katrina.”

  She lifts her head up and looks in my eyes as she tightens her grip on my hair.

  “Then why aren’t you? What people have done to you doesn’t define you, Guy, and you let it, crazy boy. You let it.”

  “It’s different. My mom threw me out at gunpoint, Kiki. I'm that miserable to live with.”

  “I don’t even know the context and I know it wasn’t about you.”

  “I wasn’t worth fighting my father for,” I confess in a tiny whisper.

  Her hand drops from my hair to instead squeeze my hand as her eyes fill with pain—for me.

  “She wasn’t worthy of you if she couldn’t fight for you. You may not believe me now, but mothers fight for their children, Guy. She—she had issues. It wasn’t you.”

  She did have issues. I'm old enough to see that now, but still…

  “Kiki, I'm not, like, man enough for you. I'm damaged goods, baby.”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispers.

  “It’s true. Kiki, I—” My cheeks heat with shame, but she has to know. “Kiki, I was attacked when I was a kid. I—he held me down. He… my pants were down. I—Frances saved me before anything happened, but I was helpless. I did nothing. Men don’t—”

  “Oh, Guy.”

  Tears fill her beautiful eyes as her soft-as-silk manicured hands grab my face tightly.

  “That’s not on you. That happens to men and women. Most men just don’t feel safe enough to talk about it. Guy, I'm so sorry.”

  She hugs me.

  “It’s not you, Guy. It’s not you. It was never you. It was never you being weak. Whoever did that to you was a predator.”

  “I was prey,” I grumble.

  “You were a child!”

  “I should
have known. I lived on the street. I knew how the world works.”

  “Listen to me. Carefully. He is the one who should feel shame. You were a kid. No matter your zip code, it’s never your fault. Boy or girl, man or woman, gay or straight, black or white… it’s never, ever your fault.”

  “What did I do to deserve you?”

  “You’re my hero, Guy. You saved me before you knew me. Everyone but Rain ignored my pain. You, some man I didn’t even know, stepped up, crossed an ocean, and fought for me. I’d do the same and more for you.”

  I grab her around her tiny waist and hoist her up so her legs are wrapped around my torso.

  “No more serious talk tonight.”

  “‘Kay,” she breathes.

  I grab the oatmeal I was making and thrust it into her hand. There aren’t as many toppings as I would have liked, but the talk was more important.

  “Here, Kiki. Eat.”

  “Thank you, Guy.”

  “No, Keeks. Thank you.”

  * * *

  I'm on my 97th push-up when Kiki walks in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, hair sticking up all over the place, wearing pink pajamas that protect every inch of her creamy skin from the cold.

  “Hey.” Her voice is a hoarse. It’s sexy.

  “You sound like a frog in the morning.”

  A laugh bubbles out of her, waking her up a little.

  “Gee, thanks, Guy.”

  I grin. “Come here.”

  She pads over to me on bare feet with pink-painted fingernails.

  “Yes?”

  “I like your voice when it sounds like a frog.”

  She giggles. “You’re crazy.”

  “Mmm, maybe. But you like it.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Her cheeks go from pink to red.

  “Show me.”

  Her eyes widen. “Wh-what?”

  I sit back in my chair, arms above my head. “Show me.”

  This may be pushing it, but I really want her lips around my cock right now. I guess we’ll see what happens. She’s still blushing as she steps between my legs, but there’s a cocky little smirk on her face, too.

  “How should I show you, hmm?”

  Heat courses through my veins. “Kneel,” I whisper.

  To my extreme pleasure, she does.

  “Now what?”