Boys and Burlesque

by Ripley Proserpina

  I should have thought of that. Guess that’s why I paid this guy the big bucks. In minutes, I had a new baseball cap on my head, a pair of sunglasses that fit my face, and we were walking outside.

  The heat hit me first, but was followed by a crippling wave of anxiety that made me stumble.

  “You okay?” Al asked.

  “Yes.” My sandals slapped on the tile as we passed by people pulling their suitcases out of taxis. The big water fountain was a short walk toward Las Vegas Boulevard. I’d meet the boys somewhere along there, where the public gathered to watch the show. “Do you want me to be anywhere specific?” I asked Al.

  “There’s a small spot that curves in toward the fountain, if you could be there, that’d be better. It’s a little farther from the street.”

  “Okay,” I answered, my voice trembling a little. I cleared my throat and kept walking.

  Al pointed out the spot where he wanted me and slowed. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll hang back.”

  It was so hot. I wished I hadn’t worn the sweatshirt, but I didn’t want to tempt fate either. There was more of a chance of someone recognizing me if my boobs were hanging out.

  Lucky for me, trees lined the viewing area, and I stood in their shade. It was noisy, with the traffic behind me and the water spraying in front of me. Gripping the stone rail, I leaned forward and stared into the water.

  Waiting.

  Where were they?

  “Betsy.” Landry spoke, and the rest of the world melted away.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I turned to face him.

  He wasn’t alone. They were all there, just like they’d said they’d be.

  “You look so different,” I said. I knew they did, I’d already seen them, but when they were all together like this, it was hard to remember them as they were.

  Back when they were mine.

  Their faces were harder, their gazes warier and less open.

  Landry wore a V-neck t-shirt, a long-sleeve plaid button-down thrown over it. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing strong muscular forearms. I knew his arms were tattooed, but with the V-neck, I could make out writing below his collarbones and across his chest.

  Josh had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, but it was a little too short and strands fell from the elastic. He tucked them behind his ears, watching me nervously. I wondered what his dad thought about his hair, it was a little hippy for Mr. Derry.

  Westin. Westin had changed the most and the least. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, but had on a black tank top. On anyone else, it’d look like he was trying too hard, but on Westin, it was natural. He was covered from his shoulders all the way to his fingernails in tattoos. I studied him. They were all over his chest and neck as well. Was any of his body free of ink?

  And Brant. His hazel-eyed gaze met mine, and he gave me a small smile. His beard covered so much of his face, like he was trying to hide. He was broader and more muscled than I’d ever seen him. He wore a tan shirt and jeans, and his biceps strained the material of the sleeves.

  “Hi.” Yep. That was what came out of my mouth.

  Each of them closed in around me, and suddenly I was a gazelle surrounded by lions. I glanced over at Al. He wasn’t too far, but he’d also stepped closer, a frown on his face. I shook my head slightly before turning back toward the boys.

  Brant followed my gaze. His smile was gone. “Bodyguard?” His tone turned accusing, and I opened my mouth to defend myself then closed it.

  I didn’t owe them an explanation. I was only here for theirs. “Yes. Al is my security.”

  “We’d never hurt you.” Landry ran his hands over his hair and linked them behind his neck.

  “I know,” I replied and sighed. “He’s not here because of you.”

  Understanding passed over their faces, along with something else, an edge that made me think they were used to surveying their surroundings as well.

  “Thanks for coming,” Westin said. He stepped closer, sidling next to me to lean against the railing. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “Your arguments were very convincing.”

  He smiled. Josh seemed to be studying our exchange, and his eyes widened when he caught Westin’s expression.

  “Do you want to go somewhere?” Landry asked. “A diner or something?”

  It did seem weird to have this conversation right out in the open, but going somewhere, sitting down across from them, was a level of intimacy I wasn’t ready for.

  “No,” I said and then added, “thanks.”

  The boys exchanged glances, and Landry sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll start.” His words came out in a rush. “Everything that happened was my fault. It was my idea.”

  “It was your idea.” I repeated what he’d said. “It was your idea to leave?”

  “That’s not true,” Brant said. “We all agreed it was for the best.”

  It was just like it used to be. They stood up for each other, clarified and elaborated for one another.

  How nice for them. Things hadn’t changed between them as much as I thought they had. I stayed silent. If they were going to offer excuses for one another and soothe each other’s feelings, they didn’t need me.

  Brant side-eyed me and then shook his head. “Fuck. I’m not excusing him, Betsy. I just mean that we’re all to blame. Landry might have told us the problem, but we all agreed to the solution.”

  Their solution was to leave me all alone in the world.

  And still I stayed silent.

  “My dad—he had more power over me than I realized,” Landry said. “You know he owned half the town, and had connections throughout the state. When he found out about us—all of us—he gave me an ultimatum.”

  Sounded like Landry’s dad.

  “What ultimatum?” I asked when the quiet went on too long.

  “Raise the rent on Brant’s parents so they had to give up their cafe. Push Josh’s dad off the farm. Make a call to Wes and Josh’s coaches.” Landry spoke like he was reciting a grocery list, but I was shocked dumb.

  What?

  My gaze bounced from one boy to the next. They held my gaze, but none of them spoke. Hurt made it hard to breathe. Hard to speak.

  I’d been seventeen and I had absolutely no one in the world left who cared about me.

  Landry’s dad threatened to take away everyone the boys loved—nobody would have understood their situation better than I would have.

  And yet they didn’t tell me.

  Tears burned the back of my eyes, and I had to shut them tight. Why? Why hadn’t they told me? Trusted me?

  I imagined a world where we left each other on good terms. If we’d done that, when I really needed them, maybe they could have helped. Or at the very least responded.

  My hands went to my stomach, low, to the place I used to stare in amazement when I imagined my baby growing inside me.

  Hurt gave way to a more familiar emotion: anger.

  “I was pregnant.” The words rushed out of me like a tidal wave.

  Westin stepped closer and then back. Landry’s face went white, and Brant swallowed hard. But it was Josh who spoke. “What?”

  “I was pregnant when you left. I didn’t know, not then. Not till Birmingham. A high school diploma doesn’t get you much, but I found a job at a coffee shop. Things were okay until I realized I’d need insurance, and when that turned out to be an impossibility, I tried to figure out a way to make as much money as possible as fast I could.”

  Landry shut his eyes and shook his head. “No.”

  “No what?” I asked. “No, I wasn’t pregnant? No, I didn’t have insurance? Or no, I didn’t get a job as a stripper, because I assure you, all those things happened.”

  “Where—” Brant started, stopped, and cleared his throat. “Where’s the baby?”

  I stared at him, willing him to understand so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

  “Bets.” I turned toward Josh. His eyes begged me to deny what I told them.


  “I lost the baby in November. Right after I moved to Portland,” I said quietly. Such a misleading word, lost. Like I’d misplaced my baby. Whoops! Set my baby down somewhere, and I just can’t remember where.

  It didn’t encompass the emptiness. The pain. It didn’t touch upon the terror I felt as I lay in my shitty studio apartment in Portland, bleeding so heavily it covered the bathroom floor. Or the realization I had just before my vision went fuzzy that no one would care that I was dead.

  Westin turned away from me, holding on tight to the railing. He bowed his head, his torso lowering as if he couldn’t hold himself up.

  Josh started toward me, hand outstretched to touch me. He dropped it, though, and then, like Landry, linked his hands behind his head. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  It was like he punched me in the stomach. “You ghosted me for five months, Joshua! Five months!”

  Brant stepped closer, gaze roaming my face. “What happened to you?”

  “I told you,” I replied. He moved even closer. There was nowhere I could go, the rail was at my back, Westin next to me. I gripped the plastic behind me. “I had a miscarriage.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling us,” he said. “I can see it, but you’re keeping it from us. And why shouldn’t you? We did nothing to make you think we’d care.”

  “I hemorrhaged.” I could barely get it out.

  Brant dragged his hands down his cheeks. He gave a curt nod and then barked a laugh. “No fucking wonder you don’t want to talk to us. We almost killed you.”

  They had, but not because of the baby. Having heard their explanation, it was time for me to go. “You broke my heart,” I replied. “And now you’re back and want to explain. You have.”

  “And that’s it.” Landry wasn’t asking a question. He rubbed a hand over his chest before letting it fall to his side.

  “What else is there?” I asked.

  “The baby?” Westin’s voice cracked. Oh, god. If he was asking the question I thought he was…

  “You want to know about her?”

  He nodded, wiping his hands across his eyes though I didn’t see any tears. “A girl.”

  “Yes. I got to hold her. She was a little longer than my hand. I named her Marigold after a character in a book I once loved.” I took a breath. She’d barely been more than the start of an idea, but she’d been mine. My little companion. A glimmer in the darkness. I didn’t think I’d be able to breathe after she died. “She has a tiny marker in Portland. I can tell you where it is if you want.”

  “Yes, please.” Josh sniffled. Tears coursed down his face, but he seemed unaware of them, unlike Westin who seemed to be preempting any potential display of emotion.

  “I’ll text you the address,” I replied. My gaze went from one boy to another. All of them seemed lost, caught up in whatever sentiment my news stirred up inside them. I’d had years to come to terms with Mari’s death, but for them, this was a fresh loss. They’d learned about her existence and death in one swoop. I couldn’t blame them for being shell-shocked. “I’m going back now.”

  Landry stared at the water, nodding quickly. “Wait. No.”

  I backed toward Al. “There’s nothing else to say.”

  “The hell there isn’t,” Landry replied. “We need to talk. I want to know more. Everything. Every second from the moment we left until now.”

  Hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared, he stared down at me, expecting me to fall into line. Like a good little soldier maybe. “I don’t owe you that.”

  Deflating, he glanced away, unable to hold my angry stare. “You owe me nothing, Betsy. I know that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.” Now he looked up. The whites around his eyes were red and so was the tip of his nose. He was barely holding it together.

  God. Why did I want to give in to them? Spill my guts and cry in their arms?

  I shook my head. Maybe they’d hold me for a minute, but then they’d leave and I’d be left weaker than before. I couldn’t let myself get used to someone holding me, because I couldn’t count on them being there.

  And these boys had already proven they were runners.

  “Are y’all’s parents okay?” I asked. I shifted my gaze from Brant to Josh. “The cafe? The farm?”

  Brant answered first. “My parents retired. They sold the cafe and moved to the coast. They’re living a mile from the beach.”

  “Dad got remarried to a girl he met on Just Farmers—some online dating site. He’s stupid happy. My cousin is probably taking over the farm and Dad’s fine with that.” Josh brought the neck of his T-shirt over his face and wiped it. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for being sad,” I answered. “Apologize for being a chicken-shit asshole, but not for being sad about our baby.”

  Josh laughed bitterly. “Right.”

  I took another step back. Their emotions were overwhelming me and that wasn’t fair. I got it, truly I did, but I had my own shit to deal with. I didn’t need theirs, too. But what did I say now? How did I wrap this up in a way I could live with?

  “I have to go,” I finally settled on, because I did. “Take care.”

  I turned and strode toward Al, doing my best not to look over my shoulder.

  I made it all the way to the hotel, my neck stiff and my entire body aching like I’d just finished a marathon dance rehearsal.

  As I was about to step inside, Al suddenly turned and held out a hand. “Stop.”

  “We’re not done.” Landry ignored Al. His gaze bored into mine. Behind him came the other boys, out of breath like they’d sprinted after me. “I’m letting you go now, but I’m not letting you go forever.”

  “None of us are,” Josh said quietly, his voice a promise.

  But I didn’t trust their promises. “I have to go,” I said again.

  “We’ll be seeing you,” Brant told me.

  Westin nodded, his eyes icy blue. “Count on it.”

  Forty

  Landry

  My stomach stayed clenched from the Bellagio, down the strip, back to our hotel. None of us spoke. Westin strode in front of us, his shoulders and his entire body so tense it seemed one jostle would make him shatter.

  I understood.

  I felt the same way.

  Next to me, Josh sucked in shaking breath after breath, trying to get himself under control. Did my friends feel like me?

  Sad.

  Mad.

  Guilty beyond measure.

  The phone in my pocket suddenly weighed a thousand pounds with all its messages from Betsy. All the messages I read and re-read. The voicemails.

  I was so wrapped up in doing what I thought I had to, I didn’t do what I wanted to.

  Add another log to the fire my guilt burned inside me. I never got to hold my daughter. To see her face and say goodbye.

  I had been somebody’s father for a second, and she’d never known I cared.

  We’d been stationed on Naval Base Kitsap in Washington at one point, and could have driven to Portland if we wanted to. Could have visited Marigold’s grave.

  My eyes burned the way they had since Betsy had told us, but I refused to cry. I didn’t deserve that. I had no one to blame for missing the most pivotal moment in my daughter’s short life except for myself.

  “Did you ever tell your families about my dad?” I asked Brant and Josh as the high-rise hotel came into view.

  “No,” Brant answered. “They were pissed when the rent on the cafe went up, but it’d stayed steady for so many years, they figured it was just an inflation adjustment. Put them on the fast track to retirement though. Mom told me it lit a fire under their asses to really look at their situation.” Not once did he look at me. His hazel eyes stared ahead of us, fixed on some point I couldn’t see. Everything we tried to avoid—it had all just happened anyway.

  “Josh?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied. “But I’m sure he knew. Between me enlisting and the weird price hikes on fe
ed and hay. He’s hinted at it and apologized more than once about putting pressure on me over the farm.”

  “We did it for nothing.” Westin turned around and crossed his arms.

  I stopped. It was on the tip of my tongue to answer, “We didn’t know.” But I didn’t want to excuse what we did, and what was more, I couldn’t. Not anymore. “Yeah.”

  I didn’t care that we’d been eighteen. That we were kids. That we were scared and that it seemed like we had no choice.

  A year passed with us doing exactly what my father wanted—staying away from Betsy. It was easy enough when we were stationed overseas and oceans lay between us. I still thought about her all the time. I wondered how she was doing and actually felt lucky—lucky—that I couldn’t call her, that the Navy had removed the temptation because none of us could contact our families. I didn’t care about any of those things because they didn’t matter. What mattered was how we had felt about Betsy.

  What mattered was that we betrayed her.

  And our daughter.

  We walked into the hotel, the cool air making goosebumps erupt over my skin. Together, we went to the elevator and without even saying a word, all ended up in my room. It was like old times, the four of us together.

  I thought back to the first days after we left Betsy. We’d all gone to Birmingham. Wes and Josh had college, but Brant and I had nothing to do. School didn’t start until September for me, but the moment I left Shawville, I knew I wasn’t going to Virginia. With no desire to go to school and do what my father wanted, I started making another plan.

  I didn’t share it right away with my friends, because I didn’t want them to change their plans. If Wes and Josh wanted to play football, I wanted them to do that. If Brant wanted to… I didn’t know… live in a van and travel up the West Coast, then I wanted him to do that.

  I got my first tattoo on a Friday afternoon following one of the first texts I got from Betsy. This one came right to me, not the group.

  Betsy: What did I do?

  Her words gutted me.