Rumor Has It: The Complete Series

by Tucker, RH

  The CTE Effect. It’s a thing, and I’m not talking about the NFL. When Calvin started a few weeks ago, Ethan and I hung out with him. He’s a cool dude, who goes on and on about opening his own gym soon. Apparently, he’s stayed living at home and is saving up. He likes to brag that he’s thirty-two and his mom still makes his dinner and does his laundry for him. I don’t get it, but maybe that’s because I couldn’t wait to get away from my family. From everyone.

  Ethan’s cool though. He started working at the gym about six months ago and is a single dad.

  We went out to Chevy’s, a local hang-out spot, after Calvin’s first day. I don’t want to sound cocky, but I can’t help it, it was like bees to honey. I’d never tell Micah this because he’s my best friend, but Calvin and Ethan are on my wavelengths. We all workout, and are single and ready to mingle. Do people still say that? Whatever.

  “I still call bullshit,” Calvin says, inspecting my paper closer. “How in the hell could you have not only passed this midterm, but you aced it?” He holds the paper up to my face. “How’d you study for it? The personal trainer exam isn’t a joke.”

  It’s really not. I studied my ass off, making sure I passed my personal trainer exam. I was initially going to wait until I received my associate degree, but I decided I didn’t want to. In addition to opening his gym, Calvin keeps telling me that if I get my certification, he’ll hook me up with a job where I can have my own clients. So I said screw it, doubled down on signing up for the exam and studying for it, while I’m still in class.

  When midterms rolled around, Calvin, Ethan, and even Micah told me I was crazy. That I should wait to take my personal trainer certification and just focus on school. Blowing them off, I studied my ass off while trying to take diligent notes during class so I could focus solely on the certification. And I passed my certification over the weekend.

  “Because I’m the shit, that’s why!” I yell out, causing a couple of gym members to turn around. Becky, one of our regulars, peaks an eyebrow, and I give her a coy nod. I’ll have to get her number again before she leaves. I never keep a girl’s number in my phone, even if we’ve slept together. Which we have.

  “All right, take it easy, guys,” Micah says, heading off to the locker room. “Nice work, T.”

  “Yeah, thanks, man.”

  “Things going good with his girl?” Ethan whispers over to me.

  “Yeah, they’re good.”

  “His loss tonight then,” Calvin chuckles.

  “Don’t.” I throw Calvin a stern look, Ethan taking notice.

  Ethan is a couple years older than me, a single dad of a four-year-old girl. He knows how close Micah and I am. I’m not close with many people, but the few I am, I’ll protect fiercely. I know they could leave at any time. And Micah’s been there for me.

  Calvin raises his hands in apology.

  “Anyway,” I brush off the comment, pulling out my phone, “as much as I love Chevy’s, I’m a little burnt out on the place. How about somewhere new tonight?”

  “Got a place in mind?” Ethan asks.

  “What about Vibe?”

  “Ah.” Calvin nods in acceptance. “Want to club it up, huh? I’m down for a club. Haven’t been in a while.”

  “Ethan?” I look over at him.

  “Sure, why not. I don’t have Ashley tonight, so I don’t have to worry about a babysitter,” Ethan answers, before bumping his elbow against mine, bringing my attention over to Becky, who’s starting to leave.

  “’Sup, Becks?” I match her stride, walking her over to the door.

  “Hey, Taylor. So, what was all of the celebrating about?”

  “I passed my personal trainer certification over the weekend, and I aced a midterm.”

  “Oh.” She leans into me, delivering a flirty smile. “Someone’s got a brain.”

  I wave to my face. “Yeah, well, this ain’t just a pretty face.” She giggles. “So we’re going out tonight to do a little celebrating. What do you say?” Leaning a little closer, I slide my arm around her waist. “We’re hitting up Vibe tonight? Down for a little fun?” I wiggle my eyebrows, eliciting another giggle from her.

  “Aw, man, I wish I could. I’m busy tonight.” She presses a finger into my chest. “Raincheck?”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  I don’t bother to get her number because I’ll see her around the gym. It’s always casual with her anyway. It’s casual with anyone I hook up with. No strings is the only way I roll.

  She gives me a sly smile before leaving the gym, and I head back to the counter. Ethan raises his eyebrows in question. I shake my head no, and he shrugs.

  “It’s all good.” I smile. “Just means someone else gets to enjoy me tonight.”

  “My man,” Calvin laughs, slapping my shoulder.

  * * *

  Vibe is an eighteen and up club that can be packed on the weekends, but they have special drink prices for their hump day promo. So that means even though it’s the middle of the week, there should be a good number of people, and there are.

  I’m only twenty, but Calvin knows a guy, so he hooked me up with a fake ID. We all order a couple of drinks, and as the night gets later, the club starts filling up.

  Whether it’s here or at Chevy’s, I do what I do best, and zone out. As much as I’m celebrating tonight, I look forward to these zone outs. Not black-out drunk, mind you, though that has happened a couple of times. But I prefer to just get lost in some music, find a cute girl for the night, and forget everything else. Everything before coming to Irvine, and the entire life I left behind in Santa Monica.

  I spot a gorgeous blonde standing around a table, talking with a friend. In the dim lights of the club, it’s hard to make out her eye color or even how much makeup she’s wearing, but she’s undoubtedly beautiful—

  Hot.

  It’s always better to think of the pretty ones as hot, or sexy, or even slutty. Hey, it happens. Any type of positive description other than beautiful. Thinking of beautiful only leads to memories. And these nights are made to forget memories.

  She takes a sip of whatever she’s drinking, laughing at something her friend says, and then her eyes meet mine. I give a slight head nod and smile, as I lean against the bar. She smiles back.

  Jackpot.

  Chapter 3

  Sasha

  “Do I have ‘I’m fine with being a temporary infatuation until you get your shit worked out’ stamped across my forehead?”

  Tara stares at me a moment, eyes wide in surprise before she lets out a barking laugh. “I’m sorry,” she says through the laughter.

  “Seriously, what the hell is it with these guys?” I ask, taking off my jacket—which smells of grease and carne asada.

  Tara has the okay from Adam, head chef and owner of the small restaurant I work at, to be in our locker room. She still lives at home, going to Irvine Community College, while I decided to forgo my second year and follow my dreams. I want to be a chef. I was taking some business and culinary classes last semester, but when Adam offered me a spot as a line cook in his restaurant, I jumped at it.

  “It’s not your fault, Sasha,” Tara says. “It’s their loss.”

  “I know, but seriously? First Charlie, then Lucas, and now Alex. Three strikes and I’m out.” I’m still stewing about the monumental mistake that was Alex and everything that went down.

  “That’s not true.” She waves her finger at me as I take off my shirt and change into a clean one before we leave. “What about Mike? And Logan? You went out with them.”

  “They don’t count. I didn’t want anything from them.” I pause, smirking. “Well, maybe I wanted one thing from them.” She laughs. “But you know what I mean. I think I’ll just stay celibate for the rest of my life.”

  She laughs again. “You don’t need to be celibate, what you need is a fun night out. A fun night of being and doing you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be doing me for a while I think,” I snark as we leave the back
room.

  “Mami, if you need some help in that department, you just let me know.” Manny walks by, waving his spatula at me. I’m still wearing my black pants, but with my chef’s jacket off, I’ve got my white undershirt on, my blue bra showing through. “Especially with that fine ass body.”

  “Shut up, Manny,” I reply to him through laughter. “I don’t think your boyfriend would approve.”

  “What baby don’t know won’t hurt him.”

  We both laugh, Tara shaking her head with a small giggle of her own.

  Manny is Adam’s sous chef and has been a big help. We jokingly flirt or playfully take shots at one another. You don’t know what vulgarity is until you’ve worked in a restaurant kitchen.

  “I’m serious though,” Tara continues, as Manny leaves. “It’s been two weeks. Let’s go out tonight. I’ve wanted to go back to Vibe since we went a couple months ago.”

  “Eh.” I lift my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on! It’ll be just what you need. We’ll dance, flirt around so someone buys us some drinks, and forget the loser known as Alex.”

  I laugh at the idea of forgetting Alex. Actually, forgetting all men. Yeah, that’d be nice. At least for one night. “You know those guys always expect something when they buy you a drink.”

  “They can expect all they want … I just want my Long Island iced tea.” I laugh at her. “Besides, maybe we go and you see someone—”

  “Tara, no. I’m not dating anyone. Seriously, I think I’ll take a sabbatical from dating for a while.”

  “Okay, okay, but if there’s a guy there, it might just be a nice little fun night, you know? Wham, bam, thank you, sir.” She giggles.

  She’s not wrong. I definitely don’t want to date anyone and go for a fourth member of the ‘I’m technically single, but still hung up on my girlfriend who dumped me’ Club. Maybe a night out with my best friend will help me take my mind off of Alex. Even if it doesn’t end with hooking up with someone, I could definitely use a little distraction.

  “All right, I guess,” I agree. “Let me go home, shower, and I’ll pick you up in a few hours.”

  * * *

  We get to Vibe, and strobe lights flicker through the dimly lit club. The place already has a number of people inside, dancing away as the bass thumps away, and a bar nestled near the back. While I’m still not sure if I want to be here, the loud music and atmosphere definitely begins to take effect. We find a table to stand around, Tara waving down one of the waiters, and we order a couple of drinks. It doesn’t happen much, but it’s times like these that I wish I had a fake ID. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t even know how to get one.

  The waiter brings our Cokes back and we talk a little more, or at least try to talk over the loud music. A couple of guys come over to ask us to dance, but we decline. Then Tara grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor, and we start dancing with ourselves.

  “See, this is fun!” She smiles at me, her light brown eyes lighting up.

  “Yeah, I’m glad I took you up on it.”

  After another song, a new guy approaches, loudly whispering into my ear a greeting.

  He’s not what I’d call ugly, but his attire definitely is. He’s wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, a gold watch, and what looks like a designer, button-down silk shirt, with all but a few buttons near his belt undone, showing off his ungodly amount of chest hair. I’ve got nothing against some chest hair, and I know some girls like the bear look, but not me. Plus, he’s wearing sunglasses. In a dimly lit room.

  “Hey, sexy.” He throws an arm around me and starts swaying.

  “Oh, hey.” I abruptly pull away from him, closer to Tara, who’s eyeing him with annoyance. “Sorry, we’re just dancing.”

  “It’s all good,” he responds, throwing the arm back around me. He leans in closer, and I smell his cologne, which is overbearing, to say the least. Raising a hand to my nose, I squint, trying not to cough—it’s that thick. “I’m just dancing, too. You ladies look like you could use a partner.”

  “Uh, no thanks,” Tara calls out.

  “Come on,” he urges, putting both hands on my waist. “We’re just having fun.”

  I pull his hands off. “Actually, we’re gonna take a breather.”

  “Whatever then.” He curls his lip, adjusting his mirrored sunglasses.

  After guiding Tara off of the dance floor, we walk back over to our table with our drinks.

  “Okay, so we’ve got dummies who stay hung up on girls or assholes who wear too much cologne and can’t take a hint,” I grumble, taking another drink. “You see, Tara. These are the options we have to deal with.”

  She laughs. “Sash, calm down. We didn’t come here for any of that crap. We came here for—” Her words cut off.

  I’m staring at my drink, playfully stirring the ice around, as I wait for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I look up and see her peering through the crowd on the dance floor, over toward the bar.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Look.” She grabs my hand and points across the floor. “I think that’s Taylor Hopkins.”

  “Who?”

  “We went to high school with him. He transferred in our senior year.”

  “I don’t remember him.”

  “He stuck to himself most of the year, but by the end of it, he started to build a reputation.”

  I peer across the floor, trying to spot who she’s talking about. I see a taller guy who kind of seems familiar, but with the dim lights, it’s hard to tell. “I think I remember him. Weren’t there rumors about him. He was in an accident or something, right?”

  “I don’t know. I heard everything from juvi to witness protection agency.”

  “Shut up.” I laugh, swatting her hand, and she giggles.

  “I don’t know what it was, but I remember by the time we graduated, he was definitely on every cheerleader’s radar.”

  “I never hung out with them. You were the scream queen.”

  “Well, I never got a taste, but the rumor was he made more than a couple cheerleaders scream queens.”

  I raise my eyebrows, now squinting a little harder to try and see him better.

  “I see him around campus every now and then. If they were only rumors back in high school, they’re straight up facts now. He works at a gym, I think.”

  Watching him with a couple of other guys, I decide he looks like he’s living the life. One of his friends makes a joke, and he’s laughing when a girl walks up to him. My first thought is it’s his girlfriend, but I see her slide something into his pocket, before whispering in his ear. He raises his eyebrows, but not in a shocked way. It’s almost casual, a look that says he knows what he’s doing and what he looks like, and yeah, sure, I’ll take your number. We’ll see what happens later. It’s conceited, but the smirk he gives her is friendly. Almost charming.

  “Girl, he’s the thing you need,” Tara says.

  I laugh. “No. I told you, I’m not gonna date anyone for a while. Besides, look at that girl he’s talking to—” I turn my attention back to him, and my words stop short as I notice him leaning against the bar, staring at me. I quickly avert my gaze.

  “Oh, he’s looking at you.” She swats my arm. “Sasha, do it. And don’t worry, I’ve heard from some friends, he never does serious. He’s off the market as far as long term goes. He likes to have fun.”

  “Ew, Tara, that just sounds gross now. I don’t want to catch something.”

  She laughs, looking over at him, then back at me. “If he was staring at me like he’s staring at you, I’d take my chances. Just do it. It’ll be no strings. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  Staring down at my drink, I think about it for a moment. A one and done might help me clear my head. I mean, if he’s not looking for something serious, and I know I’m not. Maybe she’s right.

  “Yes, I’m right,” Tara remarks, pulling me from my reverie.


  “What?”

  “I know you’re thinking about it. Just do it. Have some fun, blow off some steam, and then hit the kitchen with a clear head tomorrow night.”

  I laugh again. Looking back over, I find him staring still, and offer a small smile. Even at a distance, I can see his smile, and it’s like before, total self-assurance.

  He says something to the bartender and then looks back over at me, giving me a head nod. I smile again.

  “That’s my girl,” Tara says.

  He walks over to us with two drinks in his hands. Looking at Tara across the table, he gives her a slight nod, before turning his attention to me. “I took a guess, Jack and Coke?” He points to my drink on the table. It’s just a regular Coke, but I’m not going to tell him that, so I nod. “I’m Taylor.”

  Smiling, I’m about to reply, when Tara speaks up first. “Yeah, I think we went to high school with you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His brow furrowed, he studies her, and then me.

  “I don’t really remember,” I answer, pointing to Tara. “She recognized you though.”

  “Yeah, you transferred senior year, right?”

  For a split-second, his confidence and bravado vanish. He looks down at his drink, his eyes darting side to side.

  Up close, I can see why—whether they’re rumors or not—he has them. Tan skin, dark hazel eyes, and light brown hair that sticks up in a boy band kind of way. But there’s nothing boy about him though. Tara said he worked at a gym and you can definitely see that up close. His gray shirt stretches across his chest. It’s short sleeve, and I can see the muscles in his forearm. Over his left elbow, there are two little scars under his triceps. Looking back up, his reflective expression switches and he’s returned. Confident. Proud. Meeting his eyes, I see an inch-long scar at the edge of his left eye.

  With the moment gone, his attention shifts solely to me. “So, does my former high school classmate have a name?”