Rixon Raiders: The Collection

by L A Cotton

  “Jason quit the Friday the Thirteenth act,” I said trying to school the panic in my voice. “You got me, I concede.” I held up my hands in surrender, but the figure watched on.

  A little voice at the back of my mind whispered, What if it’s not Jason? What if it’s a serial killer and you’re about to be gutted like a fish? But I stuffed down the thoughts. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the situation, to the fear clawing up my throat. It was Jason.

  It had to be.

  “Screw this,” I murmured, steeling myself to run. But as I went to take off, another two figures rushed out of the shadows, grabbing my arms and pinning me against the wall.

  “Jason,” I hissed as my brain tried to process what was happening. “This isn’t funny anymore. Tell your fucking idiot friends to back down before I scream.”

  Their hands tightened and I thrashed against them, but they were too strong, and I was probably going to have bruises tomorrow. “Cameron, Asher, you’ve done a lot of messed up things to me in the past, but this is—”

  The figure—Jason—ate up the distance between us in long sure strides, stopping mere millimeters from my body. “Jason?” I breathed, no longer convinced it was him and that I wasn’t about to be gutted like a fish.

  Fear gripped me, as he dug his hand in his pocket. I sucked in a sharp breath as he began to lift his arm, waiting for the glint of metal. But it never came. Instead my vision went dark as something was shoved over my head and this time I did scream. The silence had been eerie enough. But this was worse.

  This was fucking terrifying.

  “Calm the fuck down,” someone said, but the blood pounding between my ears made it difficult to distinguish if it had been Jason or Asher or Cameron. Or someone else entirely. My heart crashed violently against my chest, making it difficult to breathe as every possible scenario of what was about to happen flooded my mind.

  “Please,” I cried. “Just stop. Just—”

  A hand fixed over my mouth again, and I gasped, fighting for breath, the smell of polyester overpowering my senses. But it all stopped when I felt something move against my stomach, painting torturous patterns. Oh God. My fight response withered and died, rendering me paralyzed, as I waited for the flash of pain. But it never came as a blunt object moved over my t-shirt. Confused, and drowning in a tsunami of fear and paranoia, I let my body go completely lax as my captors began to pull me away from the wall, guiding me to who only knew where. Seconds ticked by, my legs stumbling to keep with up them. And then the world came back in an overwhelming blur of color and noise as the hood was ripped off my head.

  “W- what?” I blinked rapidly, sucking in greedy lungful’s of air, as I staggered toward the sounds.

  But as my vision began to settle, I realized something was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  I was on the fringe of the parking lot, looking out over the pep rally. And everyone was staring back at me.

  Everyone.

  The laughter started like a storm. The rumble of thunder far off in the distance, creeping closer with every crack of lighting. Until it was right on me; each rumble like a violent shiver up my spine, each crack like a jolt to my heart.

  “Hails?” Flick pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes alight with panic. “What…” Her eyes dropped to my chest and she gasped, “Oh shit.” The color drained from her face.

  My fingers reached for the hem of the tee, stretching it out so I could just make out the words. There, painted in blue pen, was the words ‘I ride Raiders for fun’.

  Embarrassment burned through me, flaming my cheeks, as I met my best friend’s sympathetic gaze. “I will fucking kill him,” I ground out, not caring who could hear me.

  She took a cautious step toward me. “Jason didn’t do this—”

  “Of course he did,” I hissed, already searching the crowd for his smug face.

  “No, he didn’t, Hails.” Something about the conviction in her voice gave me pause, and I slid my gaze to hers. “He’s been here the whole time.”

  “But that’s not…”

  “It is, I promise.”

  Just then, I felt him. My eyes snapped up and sure enough Jason was there, in the middle of my gathered audience, his eyes hard on me. Flick was right. It couldn’t have been him.

  “And Asher?” I asked, my voice shaky.

  “He was right there too. I watched them cream the Eagle three times in a row.”

  I didn’t know what to feel when I finally said, “And Cameron?”

  “He was there at the start, but I’m not sure… I didn’t...” She sounded apologetic, and I didn’t understand. She had nothing to feel bad about. It wasn’t her fault.

  “I see.” My blood turned cold.

  “Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I let her lead me away from the whispers and stares and snickers. Jason and his douchebag friends had been mean to me for years. It was nothing new. Nothing I wasn’t already used to. But this… this was different.

  And I couldn’t help but remember Cameron’s words, ‘don’t come crying to me when he ruins you’.

  Chapter Ten

  Cameron

  “Do you need to tell me something?” Jase was blocking the door to Bell’s, hands in his pockets, suspicion glittering in his eyes. We’d headed straight here from the pep rally, but I’d driven myself instead of riding with him and Asher.

  “All you need to know is, I handled it.”

  “Handled it?” His brow rose. “I didn’t know it needed handling.”

  Blowing out an exasperated breath, I ran a hand over my head and down the back of my neck. “Look, you can’t afford to mess up this year. Hailee, she’s a problem you don’t need.”

  “So, you thought you’d fix it for me?” He straightened off the wall, folding his arms over his chest.

  “I just don’t want to see you mess up the season because of her.”

  He narrowed his gaze, searching my face for something. Something I didn’t have the answer to. I held my breath, waiting. Relieved as fuck when a rare smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Shit, man, I can’t believe you did that. She looked ready to cry… and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry.”

  My chest tightened remembering how Hailee had frozen up when I’d grabbed her. How her soft curves had tensed beneath my fingers. It had been the same when I’d kissed her, except then she’d quickly softened under my touch. Her body melting against mine even though she’d tried to fight it.

  All week, after our janitor’s closet kiss, I’d watched her. She had tried to avoid me; kept her head down whenever we passed in the hall at school, and I’d noticed she didn’t sit in the cafeteria to eat her lunch. But there were moments when she didn’t know I was watching her watch me. Mild curiosity was painted on her expression and something that looked a lot like lust shining in her eyes. Hailee could deny it all she wanted but kissing me had awoken something inside her. I’d felt it.

  We both had.

  But no matter how good she’d felt pressed against me, how good it had felt having my lips on hers, it was a problem neither of us needed.

  So, I’d done what I should have done all along—I pushed her away the only way I knew how.

  “Yeah, well, hopefully it’ll keep her off your back for a while. But you need to stop that shit too. We have enough to worry about with Finnigan breathing down our necks, and then there’s this shit with Thatcher—”

  “Chill, man, it’s all in hand.” He clapped me on the back before yanking the door open. “Come on, drinks are on me.”

  I followed him inside where we were met with a low rumble of cheers. Bell’s was our place; a bar run by an ex-Raider who decked the place out to be a living memorial to the team. Newspaper cuttings and photographs littered the wall, and there was a huge trophy case housing some of Jerry—the owner’s—more treasured pieces of Raiders memorabilia: signed game balls, helmets, game ticket stubs. He even had his old jersey signed by Jerome
Maddox, a Raider who went on to win two Super Bowls with the Pittsburg Steelers.

  “Fellas,” Jerry greeted us as we each took a stool at the bar. “What can I get you?”

  “Two Bud Lights please, J.” Jase got out his wallet, but Jerry shook his head. “First one’s on the house. If you boys didn’t keep using my place, business wouldn’t be half as good as it is.”

  “Bell’s will always be Raiders territory.” Jase gave him a nod while Jerry got our beers.

  “How’re the team looking?” He handed us each a bottle without hesitation, another perk of being a Raider. “Think we’ll go all the way to State?”

  “You know it,” Jase said.

  “Gotta bring home the bling before you go off to college.” He wiggled his ring finger, the light hitting his Championship ring. “I heard East are already talking a lot of smack.” The corner of Jerry’s mouth tugged up. Nobody had their ear to the ground as much as Jerry.

  “East can bring it. They got lucky last year. This year, they won’t.”

  “Damn right, Son. Damn right. I remember my senior year, nineteen-eighty-one, that season was brutal.” His eyes glazed over with memories of the past. “Nobody thought we’d make the play-offs. Our last game was the Eagles at their place. It was a dog fight. By the fourth quarter we were trailing twenty-six-points to zero. We’d got guys bleeding, more injuries than we could count, and a team who was barely standing. I’ll be honest with you boys, I thought it was over. We all did.”

  “What happened?” I humored the old man. I’d heard the story before; everyone who came through Bell’s door had at one time or another.

  “Coach Royston gathered us around and said to us… he said, ‘strength grows in the moments when you can’t go on, but you keep going anyway’. We came into that fourth quarter defeated, but we rose victorious and went on to win State. Bring it home this season, Son.” He addressed Jason. “The whole damn town is counting on you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my best friend. His eyes were narrowed, dark, his whole demeanor deadly. Winning State was the dream for most high school football teams, but it wasn’t just a dream for Jason, it was a rite of passage. It was in his blood. And he wanted it more than anything else. He didn’t only want it, he needed it. Sometimes I wondered if he needed it more than the air he breathed.

  “You guys take it easy now.” Jerry bid us a good night and went to serve some other customers, and we moved over to where the rest of the team had congregated.

  “Why is it?” Grady piped up. “You two fuckers never have to pay for your beer, and the rest of us do?”

  Jase raised an eyebrow as he slid into one of the booths.

  “Because he’s QB One, jackass,” someone called.

  “And Chase? What’s he got that I don’t?” Grady was smirking at me and I flipped him off.

  “Try three offers on the table from Division One schools including Penn,” Mackey grinned at me as if he was doing me a favor.

  Asher stiffened beside me and then slammed his hand down on the table. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t want to talk about free beer. I want to talk about kicking some Marshall ass.”

  A chorus of ‘hells yeah’ broke out in our corner of the bar. Jumping up onto the leather bench, he thrust his beer into the air. “What do y’all say? Do you think we can kick Marshall’s ass?”

  The whole place erupted and I rolled my eyes at Jase who just stared out at nothing as if Asher wasn’t standing on the bench whipping Jerry’s patrons into a frenzy. “I can’t hear you.” He cupped his ear, playing to his rapt audience. “I said, do y’all think we’re going to kick some Musketeer ass on Friday?”

  Kaiden jumped up, Mackey too. Until most of the younger players were up on their feet cheering and bouncing up and down. But I didn’t move. Neither did Jase or a handful of the other senior players. We’d been there, done that. I didn’t begrudge them lapping it all up—the attention, the thrill of wearing a blue and white jersey—but I knew there was a whole world waiting out there for me. A world outside of Rixon and the Raiders. And while their time would come; for me, for Jase, and Asher, it was already here.

  It was supposed to be the defining moment of our high school football career and yet, already, I didn’t know if my heart was in it.

  And some days, I didn’t know how to deal with that.

  Monday soon came around and with it the anticipation for the first game of the season. “Mornin’,” I said around a yawn as I padded into the kitchen, making a beeline for the refrigerator.

  “Hey, sweetie,” my mom gave me a warm smile as she helped my little brother, Xander, eat his cereal, but I saw the dark rings around her eyes.

  “Ameron.” He clapped vigorously, half-chewed cereal spraying from his mouth.

  “Hi, buddy.” I chugged a carton of milk while ruffling his hair.

  “Ameron ootball day?” Xander grinned up at me as if I was the best fucking thing to ever live, and my chest squeezed. The little shit was cute and so oblivious, I envied him.

  I envied a three-year-old.

  How fucking pathetic.

  “Yeah, buddy.” I leaned back against the counter. “I have practice today. We’ve got our first game Friday.”

  “Ame day!” His eyes lit up. “Mama, we o to ame day with Ameron?”

  “We’ll see, baby.” She gave him a tight smile, her eyes flicking to mine and then dipping. But not before I saw the flash of regret there. “We’ll see.”

  “Maybe Asher’s mom could bring him?” I suggested since it wouldn’t be the first time Mrs. Bennet brought him along. “If you’re, you know—”

  “Yeah,” it came out quiet as she cleaned up my brother. “We’ll see.”

  “Good morning, family.” Dad breezed into the room. “And how are we all this morning?” He pulled Mom in for a hug, dropping a kiss on her head, and they shared an intimate smile before he went to the coffee maker.

  “First game of the season Friday then?” he directed at me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” I said barely paying him any attention as I watched Mom scoop up Xander and disappear out of the kitchen. “I’m ready.”

  “It’s a big year, Son.” Dad sipped his coffee. “I wish things could be easi—”

  “It’s fine, Dad.” I cut him off. I didn’t want to do this, not this morning. “I haven’t decided anything yet, there’s still time.”

  He nodded, understanding simmering in his eyes. “I’ll try my hardest to be there but—”

  “I know.” The words almost choked me.

  “Marshall Prep could be a tough first game. They have a strong defense with that Belson kid, right?”

  “Yeah, but I think we can do it. Our offense is looking tight and Coach has us practicing plays until we’re blue in the face.”

  “Good, that’s good. Xander will be at Katie’s after school Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we have appointments.”

  “Shit, Dad, I already told you I can take care of him. I can speak to Coach and maybe figure—”

  “Cameron, it’s senior year.” He sighed, barely able to meet my eyes. “This year is important, Son. And Xander likes being with Katie. I know you’re capable of helping, but this is important to us. Your future is important to us.”

  “How is she, Dad?” I forced the words out over the lump in my throat. “Really?”

  He dragged a hand down his face letting out an exasperated breath. “Your mom is going to be fine, Son. Just fine. This new doctor is on the ball; they’re adjusting her meds and running some tests. I have a good feeling about things.”

  “Good, that’s good.” Because God only knew we needed a break.

  “I just need you to focus on school and football, Cameron.” He approached me. “Promise me you’ll do that?” Dad squeezed my shoulder and I managed a small nod.

  “I promise.” It came out strangled. Because what else could I do?

  But as Dad said goodbye and went to find Mom and
Xan, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hailee

  “Morning, sweetheart.” Mom was busy making breakfast when I finally traipsed downstairs. “Don’t forget we have to go pick out the wedding photos on Wednesday.”

  I silently groaned. “Great.” Why I’d been roped into doing it when it should have been something a husband did with his new wife, was beyond me. But Kent was busy, suggesting I go in his place.

  “Hailee Raine, can you at least try to pretend to be interested. This is important to me.”

  “I know, Mom, I just…” Pressing my lips together, I swallowed the words I wanted to say and forced a smile. “Wednesday sounds great. Can I bring Flick?”

  “I already told Mr. Fetton to expect the three of us.” She knew me so well. “So how was your weekend?” I detected a trace of suspicion in her tone.

  “My weekend was fine.” It came out a little sharper than I intended.

  I’d spent most of Saturday in my bedroom. Flick had come over and we’d watched cheesy horror movies and binged on junk food; then yesterday, I’d worked on a couple of art projects.

  Mom inclined her head, studying me. “Are you sure? You seem—”

  “I’m fine.” I smiled again.

  “Because if something happened—”

  “Nothing happened, Mom.” It was possible she’d heard about the pep rally; rumors flew around our town quicker than lightning, but no way was I going to bring it up. I wanted to forget all about it.

  “Okay.” She conceded, something catching her eye over my shoulder. “Good morning, Jason.”

  I went rigid but didn’t glance back to greet my step-brother. I hadn’t seen him all weekend, and after Friday night, I really didn’t want to. It might not have been his hands that grabbed me in the stadium and humiliated me, but I knew he put Cameron up to it. And like a good little lap dog, he’d followed his master’s orders.