Coercion

by Lux Zakari

  As if he felt her watching at him, Michael glanced at Valerie, and his disappointment melted away into a rakish grin so unexpected, it took her by surprise. She quickly averted her eyes to her book, but she continued to feel the weight of his gaze, her body warming in every place she imagined he was looking.

  “Let’s split the chapter,” Angela said. “I’ll take the first three pages, and Val, you get the next three. Neil can do three thirty-one to three thirty-three—”

  “Great, of course I get the pages with no pictures on them,” Neil muttered.

  Valerie jumped as she felt something nudge her foot, and she didn’t have to look to know Michael deliberately rubbed his unlaced boot against her shoe. She glanced at him briefly to see him still watching her with the same knowing grin on his face.

  “And you—” Angela turned to Michael with look of disdain. “—can take the end of the chapter. Of course, I don’t know how you’ll do that without your book...”

  “No sweat.” Michael used the flat, wood-effect surface of the desk for leverage as he pushed himself to his feet and stretched his arms languidly. “It’s in my truck. I’ll go get it.” Before anyone could respond, he was out the door.

  Angela rolled her eyes. “Sure. And that’s the last we see of him.”

  “So I guess this means I’m stuck doing more pages now?” Neil heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Nice, real nice.”

  Valerie obediently took notes on her section of the chapter, her brain burning. When the class ended, Michael Vartanian still hadn’t returned.

  * * * *

  “Breezy.” Lisa Melane sidled up to her blond friend, who applied mascara in Verget Hall’s mint-tiled women’s bathroom. “Why are you telling everyone about some intense weekend you had when I haven’t even heard the details yet?”

  “It’s not me broadcasting.” Breeze gave her a mysterious smile. “I never kiss and tell.”

  “Liar.” Lisa gave Breeze’s hip a bump with her own. “That’s all you do.”

  “Maybe that’s all I used to do. Let’s just say dating an older man has me turning over some new leaves.”

  “And obviously you don’t mean Tom Courpel.”

  “Oh, Tom. He’s just a child. I needed a man much older.” Breeze capped her mascara wand. “Much, much, much older.”

  “You little slut!” Lisa gave Breeze’s upper arm a sharp slap with her fingertips. “You have to tell me everything.”

  “Buy the rights. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Whatever.” Lisa flicked open her purse and pulled out a compact. “Go ahead and be secretive if you want. I already heard the gist of the story from Marie Bacall. She’s pretty pissed, you know.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  Lisa snorted as she flipped open the compact and rubbed two fingers in the pale powder inside. “You think? I don’t know, Breezy. I’d be pretty pissed, too, if I caught you making out with my dad.”

  “What can I say? It’s not like I try to be a sex bomb. I just am one.”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “It’s nothing I do. I live my life, and my life happens to have lots of horny boys in it.” Breeze snickered. “And Marie’s dad.”

  Lisa choked on a laugh. “If Marie could hear you now.”

  “If she wants to blame someone, she can blame herself. She’s the one who got me to babysit her baby brother Saturday night.” Breeze smiled. “Can I help it that Mr. Bacall came home a little earlier than planned and I did some sitting on Daddy?”

  “Disgraceful.” Lisa’s giggle proved she enjoyed every reveal as she smeared the powder over her dark undereye circles.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is.” Breeze shrugged. “I’m legal, and it’s not like Marie and I are close. I’m not destroying some important friendship or anything.”

  “You could, of course, be destroying a marriage. You know, between Marie’s mom and dad.”

  Breeze waved her hand. “They’ve been separated for weeks now. John and his wife did their own destruction before I even came along.” She gave her reflection a satisfied smile. “And come along I did. Daddy’s got quite the talented tongue.”

  “Oh God.” Lisa screeched with laughter. “You’re so bad.”

  “I know,” Breeze said proudly. “I love it.”

  Lisa handed Breeze the compact. “I’m sure Mike was thrilled when he heard the news.”

  “Maybe he was.” Breeze dusted some powder on her face. “And maybe he wasn’t.”

  “Something tells me you haven’t told him.”

  “No, and why should I? I’ve told you before, we’re not a couple. I don’t understand why people keep asking me about him.”

  Lisa looked at her reflection and adjusted her crocheted purple cap. “Probably because you keep sleeping with him.”

  Breeze leaned closer to the mirror, wrinkling her nose as she inspected her face. “I’m a firm believer in having my cake and eating it too.”

  “Poor boy.” Lisa clucked her tongue. “He’s going to flip when he hears you traded him in for a newer model. An older model, actually.”

  “It’s not like he needs to know all the details.” Breeze straightened, closing the compact with a click. “After all, Michael has made it perfectly clear he hasn’t given our future any thought, and it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t plan on thinking about it either. Why should I bother with a boy who doesn’t care about me? So I’ve decided he’s not allowed to be my priority when I’m just his option.”

  “Eh.” Lisa shrugged. “I doubt it, Breezy. I think the guy is just confused about what you want from him.”

  “I’ve explained myself a million times!” Breeze took a deep breath. “Look, the point is I’m sick of being the only one worrying about us. I’m just not going to do it anymore.”

  “Well, if Michael doesn’t care what happens, and you don’t care what happens, is there anything to even care about?”

  “Of course there is.” Breeze sighed irritably as she passed the compact back to Lisa. “Not that you need to be worrying about it. I’m not.”

  “All right, I won’t.” Lisa dropped the compact back in her purse. “You know, I bet your whole plan with not planning might actually work out. It’ll give Michael a taste of his own medicine and drive him crazy with jealousy hearing about you with all these other guys.”

  Breeze winked as she slid on her blue sunglasses. “Really?”

  Lisa’s gasp was followed by her giggle. “You wicked bitch.”

  “You know it.” Breeze tugged on the sleeve of her friend’s shirt. “Long John’s for lunch today?”

  Her friend groaned. “You always want to eat there.”

  “So? Would you rather me crave hushpuppies or human flesh?”

  The heavy wooden door yawned shut, drowning out Lisa’s response.

  * * * *

  A door to one of the stalls creaked open and Valerie stepped out, alone in the otherwise empty bathroom. She slowly approached the sink and turned on the faucet, running her hands under the warm water. All she could think about was the conversation she had just overheard and how she couldn’t decide how she felt about it. Then again, she wasn’t sure how she felt about anything these days.

  From what Valerie understood, Breeze was trying to provoke Michael’s jealousy. Would it work? Or was it actually possible a boy could finally tire of someone like the dewy, blond seductress?

  She squinted critically at herself in the bathroom mirror. She even struck a few pouty-lipped poses and ultimately decided she looked too wholesome to pull off the sexy, flirtatious style that seemed to come so naturally to Breeze and was clearly so appealing to Michael.

  But there had to be something about her too. Why else would he keep coming around?

  * * * *

  “Hello?” Shannon snapped her fingers in front of Valerie’s face. They were sitting side by side in the student union cafeteria, picking at the meal of the day: slightly cold, coin-size carrots and dry turkey slices coa
ted in lukewarm, watered-down gravy. She rapped her knuckles gently against Valerie’s temple. “Is anyone in there?”

  “I’m sorry.” Valerie shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with me today.”

  “Today? Val, it’s like you’ve been out to lunch for months. What’s going on?”

  Valerie blushed. “Nothing.”

  Shannon pushed the carrots around her orange tray with her fork. “If you’re going to say nothing’s wrong and sincerely want people to believe it, you should at least try to sound convincing.”

  “I’m sorry. This just isn’t something I feel comfortable with. I don’t think I should even think about it, let alone discuss it.”

  “You can’t leave me hanging like this.” Shannon dropped her fork and wiped her fingers on her already sticky napkin. “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help.”

  Valerie looked around the cafeteria for anyone who might be listening then whispered in Shannon’s ear. “I’ve been seeing Michael Vartanian.”

  Shannon rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, maybe. Your very, very far-fetched dreams, at that. Now quit distracting me and tell me what’s really going on with you.”

  “I’m serious,” Valerie said in a small, subdued voice.

  “You can’t be.” Shannon stared at her friend in silence for a few moments. “I see him throwing Breeze moony eyes all the time. What do you mean by ‘seeing him’?”

  Valerie cast her friend a helpless look.

  “I can’t believe this.” Shannon exhaled a whoosh of air. “You’re fucking the guy?”

  “Shh!” Valerie pressed a finger to her lips and looked around again for possible eavesdroppers. “We’re not having sex. We just had a few...encounters, I guess you could call them.”

  “I hope you make the guy wear a condom during these encounters.” Shannon grabbed Valerie’s wrist and squeezed. “Promise me you’ll never, ever do it without protection. I mean, it’s just so easy to get pregnant. Remember Debbie Parker from high school? She had sex with Scott Bartels and had to drop out because her parents made her keep the baby. She’d planned to move to California. Now her whole life is screwed up.”

  “Okay!” Valerie wrenched her wrist out of her friend’s grip. “I get the point.”

  “I hope so. Babies smell like powder and pee, and my sister’s kids are at the age where they’re using their toy trucks as toilets. You definitely don’t need that.”

  “Shannon, please.” Valerie massaged her temples. “Enough.”

  “I can’t believe this. Not only did you finally lose your virginity, you lost it to Michael Vartanian and didn’t tell me about it. I feel so betrayed.”

  “Really, we haven’t slept together.”

  “Wow.” Shannon rubbed her eyes with her hands. “I don’t even know where to begin with any of this information. I can’t believe you’re screwing around with Kim Breza’s boyfriend.”

  “Her ex-boyfriend,” Valerie said weakly. “Sort of.”

  “How did this happen?”

  “He just...approached me one day.”

  “You surprise me, Val.” Shannon shook her head as she picked up her fork again and stabbed a turkey slice. “Settling for hot fooling around without some kind of commitment doesn’t sound like you, no matter who the guy is. I would’ve figured you’d rather be his girlfriend.” She looked at her friend, who had gone silent, and groaned. “Oh, no, you would!”

  “Is that so bad?”

  Shannon took a small bite of turkey and made a face. “Yes, if you’re expecting to become the girlfriend of a guy who already has one.”

  “I told you, they’re not boyfriend-girlfriend.”

  “Whatever. The point is we’ve all heard about Michael and Breeze’s chaotic relationship. Aside from how gorgeous he is, I honestly can’t imagine why you’d want to be with him. It doesn’t sound like he’s that great of a catch anyway.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. I have a statistics class with Breeze, and she just goes on and on, talking to anyone willing to listen about how Michael always shows up late, never pays for anything, never wants to do anything except grope her or get wasted...”

  Valerie concentrated on the dry, crumbling biscuit that came with her meal and poked a few holes in it with the tip of her knife. “Maybe there’s a reason Michael treats Breeze like that. Maybe she’s a bad girlfriend. Maybe he’d act different with someone else.”

  “Maybe. But has he said anything about wanting to be your boyfriend, let alone your good boyfriend?”

  “Well, no...”

  “And how long have you guys been having your ‘encounters’?”

  Valerie bit her lip. “Just twice since October.”

  “You’re killing me. How could you have kept this a secret for so long?” Shannon held up her hand and inhaled deeply but briefly through her nose. “All right, that’s not the point. The bottom line is if you’re expecting more from the guy, you need to tell him. Don’t let him jerk you around and treat you so casually. You’re better than that.”

  “I guess it can’t hurt to tell him how I feel,” Valerie said slowly.

  “Absolutely. You owe it to yourself.”

  “I do.” Valerie gave her friend a firm, confident nod. “Besides, maybe I even stand a chance. I heard Breeze in the bathroom today, talking about how she’s seeing Marie Bacall’s dad.”

  “Well, there you go.” Shannon raised her eyebrows. “You may be right. It could be you really do stand a chance with him.”

  * * * *

  Michael pushed the peas around on his plate during dinner that evening and stifled a sigh. His knees bounced impatiently beneath the table as he stared at the grandfather clock ticking against the dining room wall. His father sat to his left at the head of the table, ignoring the empty chair and placemat across from Michael as he kept his sad, bloodhound-shaped eyes on his meal and chewed his steak.

  The room was heavy with disappointment and depression, and the only sounds were the silverware scraping against the brown daisy-patterned plates, teeth grinding and tearing at meat and the clock’s hopeless tick tock. Michael reached for his water glass and took a greedy gulp, nearly choking as he simultaneously drank and swallowed a scream of frustration. He put down his glass, his hands trembling with the urge to throw it against the faded yellow wallpaper just to hear a noise.

  “How’s school going?”

  Michael gave a small start at the sound of his father’s voice, creaky from an evening of silence. He masked his surprise with a halfhearted shrug and continued to guide his peas around the circumference of the daisy.

  “Did you learn anything?” his father asked, only to receive another indifferent shoulder lift. He exhaled a heavy sigh before asking gently, “Michael, were you even there?”

  Michael dropped his fork and it skittered across the plate, breaking the tense hush permeating the room. “I thought we were having dinner. If I’d known it would turn into an interrogation followed by a guilt trip, I would’ve made other plans.”

  His father shook his head. “I hope you know college isn’t free. If you were just going to waste my money, I’d wished you’d have joined the military like I’d first suggested.”

  “This is some light dinner conversation, Reverend.” Michael folded his arms and leaned into the table. “Mind if I introduce a topic? When are you going to get rid of that?”

  Michael nodded to a framed photograph hanging in a cluster of many on the wall. It showed a young, light-haired woman bundled inside her giant winter coat and standing amid melting piles of snow. A knit cap half-hid her short, curled hairstyle and her smile stretched wide across her face as her gloved hands pressed against her pregnant abdomen.

  His father steepled his fingers over his nose and closed his eyes. “I like that picture. It makes me happy.”

  “Well, I’m sick of looking at it. I don’t even know that person, and now neither do you. Why do you keep pictures around
of people we don’t even know?”

  His father’s dark eyes fluttered open to look at Michael quizzically before his gaze turned to the photograph. “I think everyone needs to surround themselves with the things and people they love, don’t you?”

  Michael snorted. “Not if those things and people don’t love you. I don’t pretend to know what love is, but she sure didn’t feel it for you.”

  His father’s eyebrows narrowed in surprise, and the sickle-shaped crease between his eyes deepened further. “Your mother and I were very much in love.”

  “Right. Her leaving was an indicator of that.”

  “She was a very troubled young woman.” His father gave a hard swallow. “No matter how much I loved her, I have to trust God had a better plan for her.” He fixed his gaze on his son. “I forgave her, Michael. It’s time you do the same. You only hurt yourself when you hold a grudge.”

  “You’re right.” Michael’s breathing increased. “I’m being so unreasonable.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Why should I be pissed at the woman who forgot to pick me up from school because she was too busy getting ready to leave and never be heard from again?”

  The phone rang in the kitchen. Michael shook his head and remained in his seat. “It’s for you.”

  “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” His father pressed his palms on the tabletop and rose to his feet. “You used to be happy.” He shuffled into the kitchen, and Michael poked his mashed potatoes as he listened to his father greet the caller. He made a hole in the center of the potatoes and scooped a few peas inside, all the while trying to control the panic in his chest.

  His father returned. “Actually, it’s for you.”

  * * * *

  Valerie threaded the telephone cord between her fingers and tried to swallow her heart, which seemed to be stuck somewhere in her throat. She shook as the ringing lasted for what seemed like hours before someone finally answered. “Vartanian residence, how may I help you?” a man asked, his voice wavering.

  She cleared her throat. “Hello, my name is Valerie Mercer, and I’d like to speak to Michael, please.”