Double Fated (Book One)

by C.K. Mullinax

  Chapter Sixteen

  Audrey left me a voicemail last night, while I was at the vice chancellor’s reception. Unfortunately, there was so much static I couldn’t understand it. She sounded strange and far away with the few words I could catch.

  My lights out curfew had been narrowly met. My body might have been in bed, but my mind refused to stop worrying.

  Jarron kept yawning on the ride to the diner, reminding me that neither one of us had gotten enough rest. He smiled after I apologized to him for the fourth time.

  Looking around the nearly deserted diner, Audrey was nowhere to be seen. However, Jules was working. She embraced me and I introduced her to Jarron.

  “It’s good to meet ya’. So Krista, have you seen our girl, lately?” Jules questioned me before I could ask her the same thing.

  “She’s not been in here either? That’s the reason we stopped by…” I responded, disappointed.

  “I’m sure there’s nothing much to worry about. She came in with that jerk she dates…what’s his name?”

  “Dante…”

  “Yeah…Dante. He brought the rest of his band and horde of rowdy groupies. They practically tore the place down, celebrating. They get a paying job and that’s call for them to wreck someone else’s place of business. This big career move must hold back two weeks’ pay because not a one of them left a dime for a tip.

  “Audrey was more quiet than usual. I assume she was embarrassed about their behavior. I haven’t seen her since Sunday morning…” Jules told us.

  “I’ve been trying to get up with her. But, I haven’t had much luck. She left me a voicemail that I couldn’t understand last night…” I stated, still feeling unsure.

  Jarron and I were too exhausted to be hungry. Still, I ordered us some take-out. I left Jules a $200 tip and bolted before she could protest my action.

  The food went directly into the fridge. Jarron headed home and I napped until it was time to go to practice.

  Even though I typically ride with the rest of the squad, I have to keep up appearances. So, I made up excuses for why I needed to take my own car and for asking Jarron to drive me. I caught a glimpse of a slick black SUV with tinted windows, following us on the highway.

  The competition was packed with squads and spectators. We got more nasty looks than I remember from our last competition. It turns out that everyone thought we intentionally chose to go last so no one could see our routine and copy it. That was an absurd assumption, because no squad ever waits for competition day to learn a dangerous, new move. But, that was the rumor of the day and we were being visibly penalized for our egregious choice.

  Of course, if we got rattled by looks filled with daggers, then we would never compete. Cheerleaders are notorious for their overconfident attitudes. Their hateful glares only make us want to beat them more. Dismissing everyone around us, we stretched and prepared to perform. Jarron and I even performed our warm-up ritual with plenty of time to spare.

  I looked over the crowd, but I didn’t see anyone that might pass for a gypsy. However, the SUV that had been following us was parked in the lot near our bus. I had to assume that someone from the Reigns’ family would be here watching.

  My tight outfit was regulation and I can’t wear any of my jewelry. But, I wanted to make whoever might be watching aware that I remember who I am, even in this non-gypsy environment. So, I asked Piper to freehand me a glittery tattoo down both arms. The competition rules require us to dress in standard uniforms, but cheerleaders can have temporary tattoos affixed as long as they display our school’s colors.

  When our turn arrived, my arms boldly displayed the words ‘gypsy pride’. The competition is being taped and will be televised next month. So, the world will know I’m a gypsy girl, then. But for now, the spectators could see it plainly.

  The crowd gasped at the many stunts we pulled. The most dangerous ones I performed alone. That way it was only me risking a permanent injury. We received a standing ovation that included the judges. All those additional hours of practice paid off. We were awarded first place. So, the squad dumped ice water over my head, conforming to our tradition.

  When I get irritated with them during practice, I yell… “better, icy-cool it, if you know what’s good for you.” I say it so frequently that they decided to cool me off after our first win to show their appreciation to their bossy, militant leader. It took my breath away then, and every time since that initial glacial baptism. I have begged them to pour Gatorade Ice over me, instead of the real McCoy. But, the tradition has been established and I’m helpless to undo it.

  Normally, I peel off my soaked uniform and wear comfy sweats on the ride home. This time I was stuck restyling my hair and reapplying make-up. The bus had long since departed for home by the time I emerged from the locker room. The parking lot was nearly deserted and the SUV was no longer in sight. I still asked Jarron to drive us back, in case they were watching from a distance.

  On the way home, Audrey finally called me.

  “Hi…only got a sec. I hear you’ve been looking for me…” she said.

  Her words were friendly enough, but her tone had a slight edge of aggravation.

  “I’ve been worried…”

  “Well, don’t be. Dante’s needed me to help him with stuff. That’s all. I thought I told you that we were on hold until this happened.”

  “You did…”

  “So, we’ve got things, ya’ know. Didn’t mean to be bad by not calling…”

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on why she sounded off, but there was something in the way she was talking.

  “Oh, I’m not accusing you of anything…”

  “No problem. I hate to cut you short. But, I’ve gotta go. Thanks again for everything. See ya’ around…” Audrey said and hung up before I could say anything else.

  “Well, that was weird…” I told Jarron.

  “Weird, how??”

  “I’ll let you know when I figure it out…”

  I was no closer to an answer when we parked in front of my sorority.

  Karin was waiting on Jarron and looking at her naked ring finger. And, that’s when it struck me.

  Audrey said as soon as Dante’s career took off they would be getting married, immediately. Ahhh, the mystery is solved.

  Although I invited my spotter and his girlfriend to come inside, they nicely declined. It was evident they needed some couple-time. So, I hugged her and thanked him for staying on the clock for so long.

  He sighed in relief when I assured him I would be in for the evening. I was looking forward to a long, hot shower and falling in bed. But, my plans would get tossed to the back-burner.

  My sorority sisters had decorated the downstairs and planned a celebration in anticipation of my win. It wouldn’t have mattered if my squad took last place because even a flimsy excuse can be used to throw a party. I should have realized what they were up to. We haven’t had a big throw-it-down event since rush week concluded. In my defense though, my plate has disappeared under the overflow.

  Frat brothers, other sorority sisters and complete strangers were wall-to-wall. I barely made it to my locked bedroom. I changed into flats and fought the intense need to start bawling. If I give in to the temptation, Ember will feel it and fall apart too. I sent her a text and she responded instantly. She was prepared to text her worries, but I told her we won before she could hit send on her next message. It distracted her long enough for me to get my thoughts back in order. Reading her happy and frenzied messages made me feel better.

  Another night of social commotion is precisely what I don’t need. But, I was raised to never be the cold, wet substance that ruins a parade. Determined to make the best of it, I said goodnight to my sister via texting, locked my bedroom door behind me and headed into the chaos.

  The music was blaring and the party was in full-swing. After the fifth accidental grope, I was nearing the end of my p
atience. That’s when I saw an unfamiliar face, sitting semi-alone on the sofa.

  “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met...” I said with a smile as I sat down beside him.

  “I’m Freddie Orion…guest of Coach Nullis. And, see that tall guy over there? That’s my sitter – the one that’s “not” drinkin’ booze in that classy plastic cup and occasionally, looking at me, all nervous like. Still can’t believe I flew halfway across the continent to get mothered by some half-wasted, not-so-subtle cleavage investigator. Dude’s barely three years older than me! I’m callin’ him Jockstrap #18 because he’s a real tool…” he offered me, comically and lifted a Pepsi-toast to his inattentive sitter.

  “Krista Stewart…sorry, no reference number to give ya’…” I responded.

  Freddie Orion is the hotshot draft pick we’re going all out to impress at tomorrow night’s game. He is an average-looking kid with black hair, brown eyes and a South-Western accent.

  None of the football players are allowed to drink or party the night before a game. So, Jockstrap #18 would be in plenty of trouble if the Coach caught him with that beer in his hand. But, he would be dead meat for sure, if Nullis found out he wasn’t sufficiently hawking his under-aged guest. The head coach picked the wrong babysitter. Jockstrap #18 lost all interest in his parental duties when an impromptu wet t-shirt contest started.

  The other young, first-round picks Nullis had wooed over the years would have abandoned this couch and bolted to watch the peep show. Although Freddie’s eyes did occasionally stray in that direction, he seemed content to sit and talk to me.

  He was a mild-mannered, humorous and likeable boy. His quiet way reminded me of Zander. And, my heart felt heavy again.

  “I love and miss you my little boo-bear xoxo…” is the quick text I sent to my nephew.

  “Same but double my m.i.a. Little KK. Gonna c/ya soon & remedy that prob! Love you with my whole heart, your LBB…” he replied.

  Freddie and I spent the next forty five minutes saying “huh?” and “what?” frequently, while simultaneously shoving unwelcomed, drunken guests away from our bodies. All I managed to discover was that his family had moved to Nebraska, last year, from Texas. He misses the cattle ranch he grew up on. And, that he had never played any sport until his senior year.

  Typically, I would have invited Freddie to take a walk or a drive. That way we could be conversing in peace. But, I didn’t have a visible chaperone anymore. So, I couldn’t even risk sitting on the porch with him.

  Jockstrap #18 was still conducting his investigation when I offered Freddie another soda. Hoping I might be able to find a quiet corner in the kitchen, I motioned for him to follow me. I started pushing my way through the crowd.

  Motivated to make it to the fridge without losing Freddie, I reached behind me and held his forearm. Leading us through the masses, I was careful to steer clear of the windows. Keenly aware of my surroundings, I scanned the room for any gypsy.

  Jockstrap #18 paid his cursory glance toward the couch to check on Freddie and I did see him do it. But, I was so engrossed in not getting busted, myself that my mind didn’t register his inevitable panic. It also didn’t occur to me that Jockstrap #18 would feel the full force of Coach Nullis’ terrible wrath, if he discovered his player had failed to follow his instructions to the letter.

  Three other football players in the kitchen stopped what they were doing when they saw me with Freddie in-tow. They said something, but I didn’t pay attention. I was on a covert mission to get us a refill, find us a quiet spot to continue our chat without getting discovered by someone in Momma-C’s family. Too focused on my objective and worried about gypsy interference, I missed a few important details.

  1. Jockstrap #18 was plowing his way through the crowd to reclaim his responsibility. He was drunk and ready to give me a piece of his mind for dragging Freddie away without permission.

  2. The three other players were miffed at me, too. They realized what happened and planned to capture their teammate-hopeful for their comrade – effectively, performing a save for their buddy from Coach’s retribution.

  3. I had a lockdown on Freddie’s arm. So, even if he wanted to join his future-teammates he would have to wiggle free from me.

  4. The team had mostly been rallying around Stick and had banished me to the deep freeze, as a result. In retrospect, they likely thought I was trying to escape with Freddie to get back at them.

  5. Intoxicated jocks, when feeling socially slighted and surrounded by their friends, will do something stupid to impress the others.

  I let go of Freddie’s forearm because we made it to the fridge. Bending over to get two cans of soda from the bottom shelf, I saw two feet standing on either side of my body. The hairs on the back of my neck responded with a warning. Whoever owns those shoes is standing too close for comfort.

  I released the cans, slammed the door closed and turned to face the interloper. Jockstrap #18 had obviously been engaged in performing an obscene gesture behind me. I caught him off guard when I spun around. But, he quickly recovered and did what he set out to do. He copped a real feel of my left breast. Then, several things happened, all at once.

  Jockstrap #18 said, “…oh yeah, baby! That’s what I’m talkin’ about…”

  The three players, who had supplied him with that artificial courage, shared a collective high-five.

  The nearby crowd fell silent in shocked anticipation.

  Freddie called him a “Tool Bag…” and his words echoed in the sudden stillness.

  And I reacted like a threatened rattlesnake.

  My impromptu molester found himself engaged in an involuntary game of Mercy with me. His knees hit the ground in surrender before he started yelling.

  “Owww, I give! Stop it!!! I give!! It was just a joke, Miss Frigid!!” he exclaimed and I released him.

  Watching a petite girl take down a massive football player was entertaining to the crowd. They clapped and cheered like we had just delivered an award-winning performance. Even the other jocks were joining in, laughing at the spectacle.

  Freddie’s now liberated and humiliated babysitter was rubbing his nearly broken wrist and smarting from wounded male pride. I leaned down to make sure he would hear my comment.

  “Tit-for-tat, Jockstrap, consider us even…” I told him.

  I swiped two unopened cans of soda from a couple of spectators, grabbed Freddie by the hand this time and took off.

  “Okay, that was hilarious…” he revealed through peals of laughter.

  We headed into my bedroom because, as far as I’m concerned, the party is over. Before I flipped on the light though, I remembered something terrible. Momma-C’s family will realize that it is a male silhouette they are looking at in my window. Freddie is tall and lanky – there’s nothing feminine about him.

  So, I turned on the television to provide us with a dim light and commanded him to sit down at my computer. He complied, instantly and provided me with a confused expression.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to bark that order. Oh, and I can’t turn on the light either. My sisters’ will be pounding on the door if they think I’m in here and awake. I’ve had enough of the public for one evening…” I revealed.

  He spent a few awkward minutes, fidgeting and stammering as he attempted to figure out what he was supposed to do next. It was very forward of me to bring him into my bedroom, but I was out of options. I wanted to get to know him better and this was the only place we could talk in private.

  Putting him at ease, I made it clear that I only brought him up to my room to chat and that I limit myself to only one game of Mercy, daily.