Coercion

by Lux Zakari

  Rooney followed Michael out of the house and stood on the front porch as Michael locked the door behind them. He tucked a bottle of Jim Beam in one of his gloves and peeled back a part of the hoagie’s wrapper. “She’s easy to distract, isn’t she?”

  “You’re more than right about that.” Michael looked at Breeze, who had climbed into the truck. “She’s lucky.”

  Rooney’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he took a bite of his hoagie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Michael shook his head as if shaking off a spell. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Oh my God! Michael!” Breeze’s scream echoed through the quiet neighborhood, which, despite it being New Year’s Eve, had been put to sleep by a blanket of snow. The only sign of life on Beeker Street was the German shepherd next door, which was tied to a post in the middle of its front lawn and trying to eat the snowflakes out of the air.

  “What is it, Breeze?” Michael’s tone lacked any trace of interest.

  Breeze cranked down the truck window and stuck her head out. “Baby, you won’t believe this! Someone stole the steering wheel!”

  Michael rolled his eyes as he and Rooney stomped across the snowy lawn toward the truck. “No, you’re just drunk and sitting on the passenger side.”

  “Oh.” Breeze breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the headrest. “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to hunt down and kill whoever took it.”

  “Thanks for your concern.”

  “Now that we’ve established the steering wheel is in its rightful place, can we go to this party?” Rooney stamped his feet in the snow while he took a bite of his hoagie and washed it down with a swig of whiskey. “I’m freaking freezing.”

  “That’s right, we should go.” Breeze rested her head against the window frame. “Rooney does enjoy a good party.”

  “After all, that’s why I go to college,” Rooney said. “Now let’s move out! Tonight, we all have a date with a lady named Fun.”

  “I wish my name was Fun.” Breeze pouted and reached for the bottle of wine she was warming between her thighs.

  Rooney watched Breeze put the mouth of the bottle to her lips and take a drink. “And I wish I still got ridiculous when I smoked.”

  “I’m glad you don’t,” Michael muttered.

  “Hey.” Rooney recoiled from Michael and raised his hands in the air as a form of surrender, still clutching the sandwich and the bottle of whiskey. “I’m getting a sense of hostility coming from you, man.”

  “What do you expect? I wanted one night out of the year to relax and enjoy myself, and of course I wind up being the driver again.”

  “Baby,” Breeze cooed, her lips wet with wine. “Stop whining. You relax and enjoy yourself every night.”

  “With you around? Not a chance.”

  “Don’t worry.” She reached out the window for his hand in vain. “Maybe 1975 will be your year.”

  “Thanks. That really means a lot coming from you.”

  “Don’t sweat it, man. I’ll drive, just give me the keys.” Rooney wiggled his fingers, palm up, as he headed for the driver’s side.

  Michael grabbed the back of Rooney’s coat, halting his friend. “You’re not getting behind the wheel of my truck without a license.”

  “It’s not my fault. That cop was new to the force. I didn’t have time to weasel my way onto his good side before he pulled me over.”

  “Yeah, it’s the cop’s fault you got your license suspended, not the fifth of whiskey sitting in your gut.”

  Breeze reached over and beeped the horn, causing the German shepherd to bark, its chain-link collar winking in the porch lights. “Let’s go!”

  “Jesus Christ, all right. We’re going to the fucking party now.” Michael slid behind the wheel as Rooney got in the passenger seat, crushing Breeze between the two of them. “Happy?”

  “I’m sure I will be,” Breeze purred, “no matter what kind of sour mood you’re in.”

  Michael grimaced. “Of that I have no doubt.”

  * * * *

  “Damn, whose idea was it to come here?” Rooney said as they arrived at the party, which was composed of seven people milling around the living room and two setting up beer pong in the kitchen. “If it gets any wilder, a bridge game is going to break out.”

  “It’s not even midnight yet.” Breeze shrugged out of her coat and tossed it in a corner on the floor. “Give it a chance.”

  “Breezy!” Lisa Melane scurried over, wearing a plastic, silver tiara, its crown molded into the shape of 1975. “Finally you’re here!” She gave Breeze a kiss on the cheek and threw her arms around her shoulders, careful not to spill her red cup of beer. When she pulled away from the embrace, she gasped. “Oh no, I got my lipstick on you!”

  “That’s all right.” Breeze wiped at her face. “I always wondered what it was like to have an imperfection.”

  “You only need to ask,” Michael said. “I can give you a detailed list of all yours.”

  “Ignore him, Breezy. Come with me.” Lisa grabbed her roommate’s hand. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “That’s amazing, considering no one’s here,” Rooney said, but Lisa ushered Breeze off somewhere else in the house. He turned to Michael. “I’m gonna go grab a brew. Want one?”

  “Sure.” Michael shrugged. “It can only help, right?”

  Rooney bobbed his head with vigor. “For all our sakes, I hope so.”

  * * * *

  Not much time had to pass before people filtered in and out the front door. Soon, partygoers filled the house with the mission of draining the keg sitting in a tub of ice in the garage. The heady thrum of sex and suggestion vibrated the air.

  The nice buzz rippling through him pleased Michael, despite his status as the designated driver. He had convinced himself he deserved to spend the evening in an intoxicated daze, and if Rooney and Breeze wanted to complain, they could get a ride home with someone else.

  He narrowed his eyes as he thought of his friends. An hour had drifted by without any sight of Breeze, and midnight fast approached. He glanced around the crowded living room, seeing plenty of blondes who all could pass for Breeze at first glance, and his stomach plunged every time he caught sight of a golden-haired girl with her arms wrapped around someone’s neck. He told himself Breeze wouldn’t cheat on him again, not after they’d talked it out. Still, he felt nauseous with all the possibilities swimming in his head.

  Michael caught sight of Rooney, nursing the few drops left in his bottle of whiskey and staring at the ass of a redhead wearing a rainbow-print cowl-neck top. “Hey!” He grabbed his friend’s arm. “Where’s Breeze? It’s almost twelve.”

  “I don’t know, man!” Rooney hollered back over the music, still staring at the redhead. “Last I saw her, she was looking pretty friendly with Jeff Myers.” He turned to Michael and blinked, long and slow, as if he just realized whom he was talking to. “But I’m sure it’s nothing, man. You and Breeze worked stuff out. You got nothing to worry about.”

  “I know.” Michael burned with rage on the inside. “We’re good, we’re casual. We’d agreed on that.” He ran a hand through his hair and fought the urge to yank it all out. “I just thought since we came here together...” The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and the sympathetic look Rooney gave him made him feel worse. “Fuck. Forget it.”

  “You’ll be all right, man.” Rooney accompanied his words with a punch on Michael’s upper arm.

  Michael clapped Rooney on the back, sending him in the direction of the redhead. The carousers around him shouted, counting down from ten as the second hand on the clock ticked toward midnight 1975, and the room soon filled with shouts of “Happy New Year!” Couples hugging and kissing and spilling their drinks as they did so suddenly surrounded Michael. He wondered who Breeze was spilling her beer on while she put her mouth to good use. He didn’t know whether to laugh or start throwing punches.

  Instead, he latched on to the
arm of the nearest girl and spun her so she faced him. He recognized her vaguely from one of his classes; she looked like a college-age Peppermint Patty, with long brown hair, a round nose and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

  She cocked her head at him in curiosity, and her face grew pink under his smoldering stare. “What’s up?” she yelled to him over the noise in the room.

  “Where’s your midnight kiss?” he shouted.

  “What?” She cupped her hand around her ear and squinted as she leaned in closer to him.

  Michael heaved an impatient sigh and bent his head to press his lips against hers. Her mouth was cold, and she tasted of beer. He heard her yelp of surprise even over the celebratory din, and her hands worked their way up and between them as she braced her palms on his shoulders and pushed him away.

  “What are you doing?” She turned her face, giving him her cheek.

  “Ringing in the new year.” He went to kiss her again, but she halted him, pushing her fingertips against his mouth.

  “Aren’t you with Breeze?”

  He tried not to groan.

  “Look, Michael, to be honest, I could be into this.” Her blush intensified as she gestured between them. “But not if you have a girlfriend.”

  He lowered his head to say in her ear, “If it makes you feel any better, she’s probably off with someone else too.”

  Peppermint Patty took a step back, her forehead creasing as she frowned. “Do you even know my name?”

  Michael stared at her, not knowing how to reply. She shook her head, disgusted and disappointed, and hurried away. He took a gulp of his beer, experiencing the familiar beginnings of a headache. That’s when he looked toward the second floor’s mezzanine and recognized a familiar face.

  * * * *

  Valerie leaned against the railing in the upstairs hallway overlooking the living room, surveying the writhing mass below. She rubbed her hands together and tried not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. A glance at her thin gold wristwatch—a Christmas present from her father—told her only five minutes had passed since Shannon and Rick disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Even though the couple had made sure to leave her with a few girls she knew from classes, those acquaintances had since drifted away in search of a New Year’s kiss. She hoped they would be more successful than she was, although she hadn’t actively sought anyone to celebrate with at midnight.

  Her thoughts drifted to Daniel Travato and what had happened in her driveway that afternoon. She suppressed a groan and wished she’d taken him up on his offer of spending time together. It would’ve been easier if she’d done so. But was “easier” supposed to be better? She thought of everything that had happened between her and Michael Vartanian and believed anything had to be an improvement on this.

  A warm body pressed against her backside, and a metal belt buckle dug into the small of her back. The feeling lingered, letting her know it was more than an accidental touch. She whirled around and, to her surprise, faced Michael Vartanian, who grinned at her. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine.” Her mind or her tongue refused to wrap around any form of rational thought or response. Part of her burned with anger at the sight of him standing there, giving her a heartless, smug smile, his body so close to hers. Part of her also yearned to throw her arms around him and beg him to take her, right in front of everyone. The need struck her as bizarre. She’d never known herself to be so wanton or foolish.

  He took a gulp of his beer. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

  She stared at him in response, pleading with herself to remain in control. “Up until last week we were in the same class.”

  “Right. Like I was really awake enough to know what was going on.”

  She didn’t mention he seemed awake enough to put his hands all over Breeze’s ass before class started. “I tried calling your house.”

  “How’d you get my number?”

  “I had your number already. I’ve called you before.” She fought off waves of humiliation. “Besides, your father’s our minister, so the number’s not hard to find.” Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears. “Why is how I got your number so important to you?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “I was just asking.” If he noticed how she struggled to stay calm, he didn’t show it. “So when did this alleged phone call take place?”

  “Enough.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t understand why I’m even standing here, humoring your idiotic questions. It’s not like you care—that much is obvious. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

  She turned to walk away, but Michael caught her by the arm. “What’s your problem?”

  “Are you kidding? How dare you even ask me that? After what happened in your truck a few weeks ago, I thought—”

  “You knew I had a girlfriend.”

  “You told me you weren’t going with her anymore.”

  “Look, I don’t know exactly what the point you’re trying to make is. I don’t know what you were expecting. I’ve never been less than upfront with you. If what happened between us wasn’t what you wanted, you should’ve been the same.”

  She pressed her quivering lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to regain composure as she jerked out of his grasp. “Yeah, I guess this whole mess is my fault.”

  Again, Michael grabbed her arm. “Come on.” His aloof expression faded into one of compunction. “I think we need to talk.”

  Valerie allowed him to maintain his grip on her as they wove through the crowd of people still milling about the hallway. Although the situation was anything but romantic, her heart pounded at the fact he was touching her in front of all the party guests. It was as if they were together, in a way. An outsider could even assume they were a couple.

  Michael opened a door at the end of the hallway and ushered her inside without turning on a light. When her cheek brushed against wool and the smell of mothballs invaded her nostrils, Valerie realized they were in a closet. He followed her and shut the door, and both darkness and his arms wrapped around her.

  “I’ve missed you.” His breath was warm against her skin as his lips hovered just inches away from hers.

  “No, you haven’t.” If he had, he would have called, looked her way, done something to acknowledge her. Still, she softened at his words.

  “Breeze and I have been going out for years.” He placed small kisses on her neck. Valerie’s eyes closed and her body arched against his as she only then realized to what extent she had craved his touch. “I wanted to at least try to make it work one last time. And now she’s here at this party, probably fucking someone else as we speak.”

  “So I’m your rebound?” As his hand crept up the front of her embroidered tunic shirt, she was horrified to realize how little she minded.

  “No.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “My resolution.”

  She crushed her mouth against his, unable to withstand the distance between them any longer. He returned her kiss with the same fervor, and his hands tugged at her clothes as if he couldn’t wait to tear them off. His cup fell to the floor, and the scent of spilled Schlitz mingled with the mothballs as he pushed her against the wall of the closet between a pair of wooden crutches and, ironically, a pair of skis.

  “Do you realize how sexy you look tonight?” he murmured into her ear.

  “I do?” She ran her fingertips along his jawline, her eyes searching in vain to see him in the darkness.

  “Definitely. I bet every guy at the party would kill to be where I am right now.” With seemingly little effort, he turned her around so her palms and her cheek were pressed against the wall. “If I hadn’t come along, you’d probably be in here with someone else.”

  “No.” She shook her head as his hands crept back up her tunic to touch her breasts. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations she couldn’t believe she had managed to live so long without.

  “Yes.” He pulled her bra upward on her chest, her breasts tumbling free. She tried to stif
le a moan as his warm hands cupped and molded them. “Don’t doubt you can make any guy do anything.”

  “Except you.”

  He rolled her nipples between his thumb and index fingers. “If that were true, would I be here with you now?” He grabbed one of her hands and pulled it back toward him so she could feel his hardening cock through his jeans. “This is because of you.” He left her hand on the front of his pants as he reached around to unbutton her corduroy gauchos. “Can you guess what I want to do?”

  “What?” Her breath was already coming in gasps.

  “What I’ve been dying to do for the past few weeks.” He tugged her gauchos and panties down at the same time. “And that’s fuck you until you can barely walk.”

  “Oh God.” She gasped as his fingers rubbed her clit. “That feels so good.”

  He slipped two fingers inside her wet pussy. “My cock would feel even better.”

  Valerie braced herself against the wall with both hands. “Michael, I’ve missed you so much.” His fingers worked in and out of her and she arched backward, thrusting her bare bottom against his hardness and making him groan.

  “I’ve missed you all wet and hot for me.” He withdrew his fingers from her to stroke her clit. “Or are you all wet thinking of someone else?”

  “No.” She shook her head forcefully, her hair swaying around her shoulders. “There’s no one else. Only you.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He continued to caress her with one hand while she heard him unzip his pants and rummage in his pocket.

  “It’s the truth,” she insisted, listening to a foil wrapper rip. “You’re the only one for me.”

  “Prove it. Open your legs.”

  She obediently spread her legs as far as she could, her pants and panties still riding midthigh, and shivered as Michael positioned himself at her entrance and teased the outside of her pussy with his condom-sheathed cock. She pressed her damp palms against the wall and chewed on her lips. “I wish I could see you.”