by Cassie Mae
“Ah.” His normally playful demeanor diminishes, and he almost looks… angry? I can’t put my finger on it. “Trying to impress a certain nude model?” he asks, his voice rougher than I’m used to.
“Possibly.” I let out a huff. “Probably.”
His eyes drop to my phone. “Can I see?”
Thank heavens I deleted the nipple pictures. I slap my phone into his palm, and he opens the screen to my most recent selfie with Gertrude. He doesn’t comment, and when he flicks, it’s a picture of him and his sisters by the purple tree at his house.
“You only took one?” He lifts a brow, like he knows it’s not in my personality to take only one photo.
“One that is usable.”
“Damn, I missed the blooper reel.”
“I’m quick with the delete button.”
He takes a few steps toward Gertrude, the wind blowing through his hat hair. I think he’s in the paintball zone today, but I don’t know for sure. His Troublemakers shirt is covered by his coat, but I think I see the yellow collar poking out from just behind the zipper.
He sits on the seat, still gazing down at my screen, and pats the spot next to him. “If you’re gonna take pictures with the best bike in the world, you need more of the bike in there.”
“I was trying,” I argue, plopping next to him. “My arm isn’t long enough.”
He makes a face and stretches his arm out in selfie position.
“Monkey,” I tease when I see the entire front handlebars framing us both in a great shot. His arms are long, but he’s tall so I should’ve figured.
He takes a couple, and because of my extensive training as a model, I inch closer to him, changing up each shot.
“You smell like champagne,” he says.
“Better than garlic.”
He chuckles. “You been drinking?”
“It’s my New Year’s perfume.” I change it up every holiday. Once Christmas was over, I put away my candy apple and pulled out my sparkling champagne scent.
“Sure.”
I nudge him, and the next selfie comes out blurry. “You know me better than that.”
“Well, I thought with this new bad girl image, you might’ve given yourself a couple sips.”
“Before I’m twenty-one?” I gasp, putting a hand to my chest. I mean it as a joke, but he probably knows I wouldn’t touch alcohol until it was legal, no matter how “bad” it makes me look. A girl does have her limits.
He drops his arm, and now I’ve got about twenty pictures of the two of us to sift through. I won’t be able to use many, I already know. I’m smiling in all of them.
His thumb swipes through them, pausing on a couple. I watch his face, the small perma-grin on his lips looking kind of sad today. Hmm, I wonder if he had another talk with his dad. Or if he’s just beat. Or it’s nothing. I don’t know, but I don’t have the courage to ask either. My head was a buzz before he came out, and it’s selfish, but I want to just bask in the non-buzzing peace Pete provides for a minute.
I rest my chin on his shoulder and watch as he sends a bunch of them to himself. “How’s work?” I ask, sticking to a safe subject.
“Busy.”
“Who are you with today?”
“Josh this morning. Aislynn tonight.”
“Are you ever going to take a day off?”
His shoulder bounces my chin in his silent, humorless laughter. “New Year’s Eve.”
“When Troublemakers is closed.”
“Yep.”
I shake my head, wishing there was something I could do, but there isn’t. At least not without overstepping. I could offer him a job with the horses, too, but the image of that has me pressing my lips together to keep my laughter at bay.
“I can give you Friday night off,” I suggest. “Let you get some sleep.” I say it, but I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. Rebelessons are the thing I look forward to the most every weekend.
He doesn’t answer, his thoughts staying frustratingly up in his head. He hands me my phone, then pats my leg twice before pushing up off Gertrude. I help him cover her back up, and we have our normal razzing and sparring as the wind fights us. He’s still off, though, and I have no idea how to get him back.
“Better clock back in,” he says after pulling the zipper down and securing the bike cover.
“Thanks for not teasing me too hard about this.” I gesture to Gertrude, but he knows what I mean.
“I’ll see you on Friday, Candace.”
“I gave you the night off.”
He narrows his eyes, tilting his head a bit. “I’ll see you Friday.”
Then he trudges back to the doors leading into Troublemakers. My heart thuds thick and heavy for him, and I frown, gathering up my tripod and sticking it in the backseat. I’ll force him to sleep if he’s in this mood during our lessons. The guy definitely needs it.
Pete
The week between Christmas and New Year goes by in a blur of Troublemakers arcade lights. I’m a dead man walking come time for Candace’s party, just coming off my shift. I worked the Zombie Zone today, and with the dark circles under my eyes and the deep groan my voice has taken, they probably thought I was just another zombie animatronic.
The snow is falling thicker than it has all December, so I had Mad drop me off and pick me up. She of course is invited to the party, too, and she’s decked out for the occasion, wearing the only skirt she owns and a pair of sky high boots. Her coat is so big that it gives her about a three foot radius—I got it for her for Christmas. She was in desperate need of switching out that skater jacket she wore four holes into.
It’s getting late; closing took longer than it normally does with the place being so busy. Not much to do out here in the boonies, and so most people found themselves at Troublemakers before whatever New Year’s shindig they were invited to.
After punching in the directions, I let Maddie take the wheel while I take a much needed nap. My eyes close, and we’re there.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Mad asks, undoing her seatbelt. I rub my eyes free of the barely-there sleep I got and adjust.
“Y-yeah,” I say through a yawn. “’slong as you drive home.”
“I’ll stay sober just for you.”
I’d crack up if I weren’t so damn tired. Candace have alcohol at her party? I’ll die of shock if I walk in and see that.
Mad pops out of the car, and I force my limbs to move. My muscles groan when I step out on the rocky, half-circle driveway that leads to the giant mansion on the property. Cars line up, parking tandem and side by side, and it’ll be a miracle if we get to the door without elbowing a side mirror.
Guess she has more friends than she thought. She was freaking out that no one would show up. I bet she’s freaking out now that our entire staff showed.
Mad and I make our way up the porch, passing a group of people I don’t know who are sitting on the deck, long-neck bottles clutched in some of their hands. There is alcohol. My brow furrows, and the corner of my lip twitches up. Not sure if I’m just shocked or what, but I’m not sure how I feel about Candace buying beer.
I shake my head. Man, I must be tired. Why do I give a shit if she bought the entire liquor store? She could afford it.
I run a hand through my hair and stop at the back of my neck, rubbing out a kink. I’m even too tired to appreciate how massive the main house is. How it smells flowery and clean even with all the people here. There’s enough space to move around, and music thumps from somewhere beyond my line of vision. The entryway opens to a giant living space, the couch, sectional, and La-Z-Boys full. I nod to Josh, Tanner, and Aislynn sitting around a coffee table, playing Texas hold ‘em.
Maddie shrugs her coat off and tosses it over her forearm, standing on tiptoe to try to see over people. I’m one of the tallest here, and I can tell her she’s not missing much.
Or maybe I’m just too damn tired to notice or care about the house we’re in. I know I suggested the party to Canda
ce, but I’m not feeling it tonight. In fact, I haven’t been feeling her whole “bad girl lessons” thing all week. Almost like a switch on a dimmer, our deal has slowly blurred my vision, and I don’t know if I want to help her anymore.
I mean, I will. I need the cash, and tonight should be the last thing I gotta help her through before I get paid. But there’s a sick taste on the back of my tongue every time I think about Candace becoming this version of herself that she sees in the near future. I know people change and shit, but I don’t know… What’s wrong with them staying the same?
A flash of my dad from when I was fourteen enters into my head. The sound of a pill bottle crashing to the bathroom floor. The frantic whisper from my father as he scurried to clean all the evidence. The quick rush of water from the faucet for a few brief seconds and a loud gulp. It was the first time I realized what was truly happening, and the first time I wished he would change.
I guess that’s what’s wrong with people staying the same.
“Hey,” a voice says from my right, and I blink my head free of my muddied exhaustion. “You work with Candace, right?”
It’s the apple of her eye in the flesh again. Zach gives me a head nod, a beer bottle pinched between his thumb and first two fingers. The tattoos on his neck are more prominent tonight with the v-neck t-shirt he’s wearing, and his jeans are shredded from the knee down. I guess I see where Candace’s bad girl inspiration comes from.
“Yeah. Brad, is it?” I purposely mistake his name, mostly to be a dick for no reason. Maybe I’m subconsciously helping Candace out with her image of not caring too much about him, though.
“Zach.” He gestures to my arm with his beer. “I checked out that place in Fort Wayne. By the zoo.”
“The tattoo parlor?”
He nods. “Yeah. Got some new ink from them. They do killer work. Thanks for the rec.”
“Sure.” Did I recommend it? I barely remember our first conversation. I was looking at Candace for the most part. I remember her tomato red face, her babbling, the cute, defeated slide she did to the floor afterward.
Nothing about this guy rings a bell, other than she likes him and he basically told her to go away.
For that reason alone, I want to punch him dead in the face.
“You haven’t seen Candace around, have you?” I ask him, forgoing the assault charge.
“Uh… think she went upstairs.”
It bugs me more than it should that he doesn’t know where the girl who invited him is. That he’s not hanging next to her like she probably wants. That girl is doing a hell of a lot for someone so apathetic.
My eyes swivel around the room, locating the hallway that leads to the stairwell. Maddie has skipped off to join Tanner, sitting next to Aislynn on the floor and helping her with her cards. I don’t excuse myself from my forced conversation with Zach, and I make my way up the stairs two at a time.
The sounds of the party grow distant but not entirely muted. A few people linger in the hallway that overlooks the main living room. A projector screen of the New Year countdown drapes from the far right wall, and there’s a much better view from up here.
Wooden doors that line the other side of the hall are closed. Laminated signs hang on each one, stating they are off limits. A real smile hits my lips at the bright blue she used. She seems to use blue for warnings, instead of the typical red or yellow.
I pass each door until I get to one that has the word “restroom” carved into the wood. The door is open a crack, light spilling out into the hallway. The sound of heavy breathing meets my ears, and I know it’s just a calculated breathing technique, but I’d recognize it anywhere.
I rap a knuckle against the wood and clear my throat. “Candace?”
“Uh… yeah?”
I nudge the door open further. “Can I come in?”
“S-sure.” Her voice cracks, and I push the door open with more gusto than I intended, and it bangs against the towel rack.
“Whoops.”
She waves it off, staring at the countertop. More specifically, an open beer sitting on the countertop. The condensation rolls from the neck and meets the marble.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask, the corner of my mouth lifting. I take a step toward her, my shoes thudding against the tile. The bathroom is bigger than my bedroom; it takes me a good five steps to get to her.
“Debating.” She doesn’t meet my gaze, and I get a better look at her face from the reflection in the mirror. Her eye makeup is heavier tonight but still pretty, black eyeliner framing those dark brown irises. Her eyes swirl with turmoil, her brow seemingly relaxed but giving twitches here and there. She’s going to bite a hole through that lip if she keeps gnawing at it.
I lean against the counter, my back away from the mirror to look at her more directly when she chooses to lift her gaze. My jacket rustles as I put my hands on the edge of the smooth marble, pulling open to reveal my blue Troublemakers uniform. I wish I had time to change, but I barely had time to sleep.
“What exactly are you debating?”
She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “If it’s worth it.”
I roll my hand to get her to elaborate. She finally meets my eyes.
“I always said I wouldn’t take a sip until I was twenty-one.”
“That sounds about right.”
She narrows her eyes, but I didn’t mean that in a bad way.
“You tend to stick to your guns,” I clarify. “So if you promised yourself you wouldn’t drink until it was legal, that seems like something you could handle.”
Her face softens for a brief moment, then she turns her gaze back to the beer bottle. “You don’t think it’s another fear I need to conquer? A rule I have to break?”
“No.” Not if she doesn’t want to. Especially not if she’s doing it just for him… or anyone else besides herself.
I push up on the counter, sliding back easily on the smooth surface until my shoulder blades touch the mirror. “Why the internal debate?”
She taps her nails against the marble. “Don’t bad girls drink?”
“Some do.”
“And the ones who don’t? Do they feel pressured to drink?” Her face falls slowly into an expression that kills me. I want to scream at her, take her by the shoulders and shake. I want to tell her to stop with the charade, to go after the changes she wants, not the ones she feels she has to do.
I grimace, a burning ember bursting to life and scorching up the back of my neck. I was a part of all this. It’s my damn fault for letting her believe she had to break rules to become desirable. And for what? Money?
What felt like a good, solid reason now feels so dirty.
“Would you date me?” she asks when I don’t give her an answer.
“If you drank?”
She nods.
“Yeah,” I blurt.
Her eyes widen, and her neck jerks the tiniest bit.
I give her a lopsided grin. “I’d also date you if you didn’t.”
She shakes her head, and that freckle appears in her smile as she drops her eyes to the beer. “That doesn’t help.”
I huff out a breath. There are so many things I want to say out loud that I just can’t get my voice to generate. The sound of jeans on marble echoes off the walls as I slide down to my feet. My elbow knocks against her in our typical fashion.
“You want my opinion?” I have to make sure she wants it. I won’t make the decision for her.
“You’re my teacher.” She elbows me back. “Tell me the answer.”
“You’ve spent the past month doing things you wouldn’t normally do.”
“So I should drink?”
“Let me finish.”
“So I shouldn’t drink?”
“Candace…”
“Right, sorry.” She shakes her head, her curls bouncing around her face. She makes a zipper out of her lips and closes it.
“I don’t know for sure, but from my perspective, every time you tackled somethin
g, it was on your terms.”
Her face contorts in the cutest look of skepticism, and I hold back a laugh so I don’t lose sight of my point.
“You killed that spider. You shot me with that paintball. You asked me to get on Gertrude. I may have given you a guideline, but I wasn’t the one running the show.”
I glance at the beer, the condensation growing on the counter. “You’re already badass, Candace. If you’re not ready to drink, then don’t.”
The air shifts in the room, and I think she’s just as surprised as I am by it. Her head tilts slightly, her eyes growing into Disney princess-like circles. Her tense stance loosens, and she takes the one step between us and throws her arms around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” she says, her breath cascading over my neck. My arms circle her waist, and a rush of heat runs wild through my veins.
The hug is way too brief for my liking, but the moment she lowers off her tiptoes I release her. I gotta get out of this bathroom and back to where people are. Buffers sound like a good idea right now.
She straightens her shoulders and grins, pushing the beer away from her. “Okay,” she says, “time to go be a complete bad-A-word and get my midnight kiss.”
I chuckle at her censorship and let her pass me. A dark cloud descends over my head the closer we get to Zach, but her determination is cute. And I think I’m still a little high off that unexpected hug.
I spot him right away, hanging out with a couple of Candace’s classmates—I assume, anyway. She’s still searching, peering over heads, her hair whipping around. I should be the good guy and point him out, but I let her play Where’s Waldo for a few seconds first.
“Thirty seconds!” I hear someone shout, and cheers erupt in the room. Someone passes me a glass of champagne, and I take it and lean down to Candace.
“He’s by the fireplace.” I nudge her forward, even if it pains me to do it, and give her an encouraging grin—at least I hope it comes off that way.
She throws me a nervous smile and then bounces toward Zach. She went for a dress tonight—light and sparkling, not unlike the champagne in my glass. It seems more her style, even with her legs poking out.
