Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1)

by Sabrina Stark

  Joel shook his head. "No." His gaze dipped to my lips. "I mean, do you still want that kiss?"

  I felt myself nod. Did I ever.

  Chapter 30

  In the soft glow of the firelight, Joel leaned forward, and slowly, seductively, pressed his lips to mine. His lips were warm and soft, and as sweet as I'd imagined.

  His hands slid from my arms, up to the back of my neck, and soon, and I felt his fingers sifting through the long tendrils of my hair.

  As our lips moved, I let my eyelids flutter shut. Desperate for more, I reached out, wanting to pull him closer. And as I did, my chair toppled, leaving me clutching at his shirt and kissing only air. I fell forward, straight into his arms.

  No. Actually, that wasn't quite right. Because now, we were both standing. He'd not only caught me. He'd pulled me to my feet. And I'd barely had time to think.

  He was fast. Unnaturally fast. He'd caught me before I'd even fallen.

  I glanced around and spotted my chair, now toppled onto its side. As for his chair, it remained upright.

  Showoff.

  I gave a shaky laugh. "I hope I didn't trash your chair. I mean, the one I was sitting in."

  "It's not my chair. It's yours."

  I looked up to study his face. "What?"

  "I bought it for you."

  My breath caught. "You did? When?"

  "On my way back from Detroit."

  I smiled. So this wasn't just an impromptu thing? Thinking it over, I recalled how the campsite had looked when I'd peddled up to it. There had been the lawn chairs, the firewood, and even the sticks, resting up against the wood-pile.

  I felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with the fire. Two chairs. Two sticks. One for me, and one for him. How had I not realized?

  It was so sweet that I didn't know what to say. So I didn't say anything. Instead, I lifted my face and kissed him again, more slowly this time, leaning into him as much as I wanted, and savoring the rush of pleasure when his arms closed tighter around me, wrapping me in a warm, wonderful embrace.

  I kissed him a lot that night, and he kissed me back, like a guy who definitely knew what he was doing. But that's as far as it went, and I was thankful that he didn't push it.

  Or at least, that's what I told myself, even as he was driving home just past midnight. It was funny really, because there were so many things I'd been planning to ask him. But somehow, the hours had slipped away with most of my questions still unasked, at least for now.

  But I wasn't worried. Already, we'd made plans for the following afternoon, which meant that I'd be getting my answers soon enough.

  Still, there was something I wanted to get out of the way, so it didn't come up later on. Just as we were pulling into my driveway, I turned to him and said, "I meant to tell you, I heard about that fight."

  Joel stiffened. With his eyes still on the road, he said in a carefully neutral voice, "Yeah? Which one?"

  I stared at him in profile. Which one?

  How many fights did he get into, anyway? I suddenly recalled what Mike had said during that whole roadside encounter with Chester, the Shirtless Wonder. Mike had made some crack about Joel 'slaughtering' someone at State. With everything else, that had almost slipped my mind.

  But now, it came rushing to the forefront. I wanted to ask about it. But something – maybe the hard set of Joel's shoulders – told me that now wasn't the ideal time.

  So all I said was, "You know, the one between you and Derek."

  "That?" Joel's shoulders visibly relaxed. "That was no fight."

  I still hadn't gotten the whole story from Cassie, but I did know that it wasn't just a yelling thing. And yet, Joel didn't look like he was lying. Trying to be diplomatic about it, I said, "Are you sure? Because Cassie was there."

  Joel gave me a sideways glance. "You ever see a real fight?"

  "No," I admitted.

  "Trust me. A real fight? Looks nothing like that."

  I didn't know what to say, and already, we were pulling up to the house. When the car stopped, Joel got out, retrieved my bike from the trunk, and then, walked me and my bike to the front door, where all of my questions were soon forgotten, thanks to an amazing kiss goodnight.

  Tomorrow, I decided, I'd get the full story – if not from Joel, then definitely from Cassie.

  Chapter 31

  Standing in the back room of the cookie shop, I stared at Cassie. "But he told me it wasn't a real fight."

  We were decorating sugar cookies for a bridal show that was being held at the stately brick hotel across the street.

  Cassie shook her head. "Oh, it was definitely real."

  So far, I'd learned nothing, except that Cassie was still insisting that the fight was a physical one, and not just some verbal altercation.

  I gave her a pleading look. "Just tell me the whole story, okay? You said you saw it. But what happened?"

  "Alright, let me start from the beginning. You know how the ice machine's been on the fritz lately?"

  I nodded. As her only part-time employee, I did know. At the cookie shop, we sold not only baked goods, but smoothies when the weather was warm enough to justify it.

  Smoothies needed ice, sometimes, lots of ice. Unfortunately, a few weeks ago, Cassie's ice machine had died a long, noisy death, and she hadn't yet replaced it.

  "Right," I said. "And?"

  "So, you also know that I've been buying all of my ice from that dispenser near the beach, right?"

  Again, I nodded. Occasionally, it was me getting the ice. This involved lugging a blue, plastic cooler – luckily, a cooler with wheels – four blocks to the beach and back again.

  I didn't mind. It was actually sort of fun. But what this had to do with the fight, I had no idea. "So…?" I prompted.

  "So," Cassie continued, "I'm there, filling the cooler, and I see Derek at the hot dog stand. And there's this huge line behind him." She paused. "You know which stand I mean, right?"

  "Yeah." I made a forwarding motion with my hand. "Duffy's Dogs, I know."

  She gave me a look. "Hey, don't get all impatient. It's relevant to the story."

  I gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

  She reached for a tube of icing and began drawing pink flowers on the cookies that I'd just frosted. "So you know the guy who owns the stand, right?"

  "Yeah. Duffy." I wasn't a huge hot dog fan, but I'd chatted with him a few times. He seemed like a nice guy.

  "Right," Cassie said, "but that day, it's not Duffy manning the stand. It's his son, Spencer."

  I tried to think. "Skinny kid? Maybe in junior high?"

  Cassie nodded. "Right. That's him. He works the stand sometimes, you know, on weekends and stuff."

  I did know. But I still didn't know why this mattered. "And?"

  "And, like I said, there's this huge line." She frowned. "And guess who's at the front."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Derek." Cassie looked up. "And he's with Angelina the Skank. You know her, right?"

  Angelina DeLotta? Did I ever. I'd gone to high school with Angelina. She was loud, obnoxious, and very popular, in that easy good-time sort of way. "Yeah, I know her."

  "Doesn't everyone," Cassie said. "Anyway, Derek's totally giving Spencer a hard time."

  "How?" I asked.

  "Oh, you know. The usual stuff." She gave it some thought. "Like, from what I heard, he'd already rejected like five hot dogs before I'd even got there."

  I felt my brow wrinkle. "Rejected? What do you mean?"

  "Well, from the bits people told me after, he was like, 'This one's overdone. This one's not done enough. This one's got a mashed-up bun…"

  "You can reject hot dogs?" I said.

  She gave me a look. "You ever been to a restaurant with him?"

  I had, in fact. And so had Cassie. By unspoken agreement, we almost never went with him anymore. It was just too painful to watch, him running the servers ragged, just because he could.

  "Point taken," I said.

&nbs
p; "So," Cassie went on, "even from the next stand over, I can see that Derek's being a total jerk. Like, he grabs the kid's tip jar and says–" She imitated Derek. "'–If you want it back, you're gonna have to earn it.'"

  I felt my jaw clench. "God, what an ass."

  "No kidding," Cassie said. "And all this time, Angelina's there, laughing like she always does."

  I rolled my eyes. "Like a coked-up hyena?"

  "Oh yeah." Cassie's mouth tightened. "And then the innuendos start."

  "You mean from Angelina?"

  "I wish," she said. "I mean from Derek."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, he starts making all these cracks about hot dogs, and wieners, and asking the kid if he sees a lot of wieners at home." She made a sound of disgust. "Stuff like that."

  I stared at her. I almost didn't know what to say. Even for Derek, this was a new low. I asked, "Were you tempted to say something?"

  "Oh, I was more than tempted," she said. "I left my cooler, marched over there, and told him, flat-out, to give it a rest."

  "What did he do?"

  "Nothing," she said. "You know how he is. He ignored me and kept on going. And all the while, Angelina's still laughing, the people behind him are grumbling, and the kid, Spencer, he's looking like he wants to run, or jeez, even cry." She winced. "It was that bad."

  Listening, it occurred to me that this was exactly why I'd been reluctant to hear this story the first time around. Cripes, I almost wanted to cover my ears now. It was vintage Derek, but worse.

  Still, a huge part of the story seemed to be missing. I gave Cassie a perplexed look. "But what does this have to do with Joel? You still haven't said."

  "Right. Because I was saving that part for last."

  "Why?"

  She smiled. "Because it's the only good part of the whole story."

  I gave her a dubious look. "There's a good part?"

  "Oh yeah," she said. "And you're gonna love it."

  Chapter 32

  So far, I wasn't loving anything about this story. Derek had been spiraling out of control all summer. I was accustomed to him giving me a hard time, but the thought of him harassing some kid at a hot dog stand was almost more than I could stomach.

  Across from me, Cassie reached for a new tube of icing, and began drawing green leaves around the pink flowers. "So, Derek has the tip jar, and he's holding it high over his head, making all these stupid cracks. And finally he says, 'Hey, dog-boy, you wanna fetch this?'"

  I frowned. "Please tell me he didn't actually throw it."

  "Well, he does, and he doesn't."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Okay, picture this. He's got the jar in one hand, high over his head, right? And he winds back, like he's gonna hurl the jar halfway to Chicago. But…" Cassie smiled. "…When he goes to throw it, it's gone."

  "What's gone?" I asked. "The jar?"

  "Yeah," she said. "So instead of throwing the jar, he's throwing nothing. And it totally messes up his momentum." She laughed. "He loses his balance, and takes a dirt-dive right there on the beach, in front of like fifty people."

  I could almost picture it. "But what happened to the jar? Did he drop it behind him or something?"

  "No. What happened was this guy – Joel, I mean – had come out of nowhere. And all ninja-like, he'd plucked the jar right out of Derek's hand." Cassie's eyes brightened. "And he did it so fast, and so quiet, that Derek didn't even notice until it was too late."

  Knowing Joel, I could totally believe it.

  Cassie was laughing again. "You should've seen it. Derek's stumbling around trying to catch his balance, and…" She paused. "…Did I mention he was drunk?"

  I shook my head. "I don't think so."

  "Oh yeah. He was. I could tell. But anyway, Angelina's laughing her face off, except now, she's laughing at Derek, who totally 'loves' that. And a few feet away, there's Joel, just standing there – dripping wet, no shirt, by the way – holding the jar, all nonchalant-like."

  An image of Joel, wet and half-naked, flashed in my brain. It was a nice image, with all kinds of details that I'd like to consider later on, preferably after returning home and turning off the lights.

  Damn it. Focus, Melody.

  I asked, "So, he'd just come in from swimming or something?"

  "Apparently," Cassie said. "He was wearing black shorts, or maybe a swimsuit that looked like shorts." She waved away the question. "But that's not important. The thing is, Derek's royally ticked off. He gets up and lunges for the jar. Totally misses, by the way."

  She paused, as if thinking. "You know what it reminded me of?"

  "What?" I asked.

  "A bull fight."

  "Huh?"

  "You know," she said. "Like a bull-fighting scene from a movie. Like there's Joel, the matador, cool as a cucumber, moving the jar just out of Derek's reach a split-second before Derek gets close enough to grab it."

  At this, I had to laugh. "So, the tip jar is what? A shiny red cape?"

  Cassie grinned. "Exactly!"

  I could just picture it, too. "So, how many times did 'Derek the Bull' charge?"

  "A lot," Cassie said. "And by now, everyone's laughing, even Spencer." Cassie was still grinning. "It was so awesome."

  It did sound awesome, actually. The way it sounded, it wasn't so much a fight as a spectacle. I smiled with relief. "So that was their fight?"

  Cassie shook her head. "Sorry. There's more."

  My smile faded. "Oh."

  "So this goes on for who-knows-how long, and finally, Derek gets so mad, he hauls off and punches Joel right in the stomach."

  I gasped, "Oh, my God."

  "Yeah, but get this. Nothing happens."

  "What do you mean, nothing happens?"

  "I mean," she said, "that Joel just stands there, like he didn't even feel it."

  "How could he not feel it?" I asked.

  Cassie lowered her voice. "If you saw his abs, you wouldn't ask."

  And just like that, another image of Joel flashed in my brain. Now, he was half-naked and wet, with drips of water falling suggestively down the well-defined ridges of his stomach. Before those drops could head lower, I blew out a nervous breath and admitted, "You know, I can actually see it."

  "Yeah." Cassie rolled her eyes. "And you know who else could?"

  "Who?"

  "Angelina. By this point, she's totally ditched Derek, and is doing her best to show off for Joel instead."

  "How?" I asked.

  "Well, she's laughing, and giggling, and…" Cassie paused. "Um, bouncing?"

  From experience, I knew exactly what Cassie meant. This was a small town with only one public beach. Over the last few years, I'd seen Angelina out there, plenty of times, working her special brand of bouncing-bikini magic.

  I felt myself frown. Did it work on Joel?

  Before I could dwell on it, Cassie continued. "So now, Derek's going totally nuts, swearing and yelling, and just generally making an ass of himself. He winds up and hits Joel a couple more times, and misses even more than that."

  Okay, that made no sense. "What?"

  "Well, like Derek swings a dozen times, but mostly he's hitting air. And by now, he's totally unhinged, especially because Joel's just standing there, utterly unfazed."

  "So he didn't fight back?"

  "Not at first," Cassie said. "To be honest, he looked more amused than anything. But then, Derek takes a wild swing, misses, and grazes this older guy, standing a few feet away."

  I frowned. "Was he hurt?"

  Cassie waved away my concern. "Nah, like I said, he was just grazed. But Joel gets this look, like the fun's over. And he clocks Derek right in the stomach."

  "You mean in the same way that Derek punched him?"

  "Yeah," Cassie said, "except with Derek, it doesn't bounce off him. He doubles over and…" She gave a little shudder.

  I leaned forward. "And what?"

  "Well, he staggers back, and then, well, barfs all over his own feet."


  At the image, I was feeling kind of queasy myself. "Seriously?"

  Cassie gave me a solemn look. "Seriously."

  I was almost afraid to ask. "So then what?"

  "So then, everyone's totally grossed out. And Derek, he's trying to kick sand over the barf, like if no one sees it, it didn't happen. But we all know it happened, because we saw it ourselves, and even if we didn't, there's Angelina making a huge deal about it."

  "How?" I asked.

  "Well, she's pointing and laughing and making all these cracks about how gross it was. And finally, Derek tells her to shut the hell up, unless she wants to find her own ride home. And she tells him that she's moving on anyway, because he's a pussy, and besides, she's found someone new."

  My jaw clenched. I could only guess who that someone new was. "Joel?"

  Cassie nodded. "Yup, you guessed it."

  I was almost afraid to ask, "So, then what happened?"

  Cassie shrugged. "I don't know."

  "What? How could you not know?"

  "Because my ice was melting, and some guy in a baseball hat was eyeballing my cooler."

  "So you just left?"

  "Sure," she said. "The show was over, right?"

  "But wait, did Joel leave with Angelina?"

  "Sorry," Cassie said. "I didn't see either way."

  Damn it. "So what about the tip jar? Did Spencer get it back?"

  "Oh yeah," Cassie said. "Didn't I tell you? Joel tossed it back to Spencer when the barfing started."

  "Was he okay?"

  "Spencer? Oh yeah. He was laughing his ass off." She smiled. "Then again, so was everyone."

  Stunned by the whole story, I murmured, "I can't believe I'm just hearing this."

  "Don't blame me," she said. "You were the one who covered your ears."

  Well, there was that.

  Still, I was dying to know, did the story end with Joel and Angelina frolicking on the beach? Or worse, frolicking naked somewhere else?

  I was still mulling that when Cassie perked up. "You know who else was there?"

  "Who?"

  "Terry. You know, from the ice cream place."

  I leaned forward. "Do you think she knows what happened with Angelina?"