“Here you go, man.”
“Thanks.” Jared accepted his, flicked off the cap, and tipped it in Christopher’s direction before he took a long swig. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“I’ll sit out the first game,” I offered as I leaned up against the wall, sipping my Coke from a straw, “but I play winner.”
Christopher grabbed his cue and grinned. “Well, sounds like you’ll be playing me, then, little sister.”
Taunting laughter fell from Jared’s mouth, his blue eyes gleaming with mirth. “Ah, feeling pretty sure of yourself there, huh, Christopher? I’d say we need to put a little wager on this.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and slapped it on the table.
“Oh, you’re on.” Christopher dug out his wallet.
They picked up their play while I hovered near. We laughed and the guys drank. Jared was good, but so was Christopher. The two of them battled in this constant harassment, flippantly slinging low-blow gibes and sordid insults at each other that neither took to heart.
By the end of the game, Christopher was tucking Jared’s twenty in his pocket, all too happy to rub it in. “Jared, will you ever learn? You should know I always end up coming out on top.”
Jared leaned up against the wall with an easy grin as I stepped in for my game. How good would it feel to claim him openly, this beautiful boy, to stroll up to him, lift up on my toes to brush my lips across his? For a fleeting second I wondered how he’d react, how Christopher would react.
I glanced at Christopher, his black hair unruly and his green eyes sharp. Without a doubt, that would be a really bad idea.
I shook off the thoughts and feigned confidence as I sauntered up to my brother. “You’re in so much trouble now,” I said, tipping my chin up in mock challenge. I held back laughter that threatened to work its way free. The only time I’d ever beaten Christopher was the one time he let me.
He quirked an amused eyebrow and his green eyes sparkled. “Really?”
“Really,” I said with a resolute nod.
It took him about five seconds to annihilate me.
Jared dragged a high barstool over and set it up near the wall for me. “Here, hop up here so you can see better while I kick your brother’s ass in this next game.” His smile was loose as he gestured for me to sit. He reached out to help me climb onto the chair. And I assumed it was the few beers he’d already consumed that had lowered his walls, because his touch was gentle and lingered a beat too long. His hand gripped at my side and his thumb caressed along one of my ribs.
That simple display of affection quickened my heart. Because with him, I wanted it all. There was no disguising my yearning as I looked up at him, his eyes so soft as they looked down on me. I watched as he swallowed, the heavy bob of his throat; then reluctantly he turned back to Christopher. “All right, my friend, time for me to show you how it’s really done.”
Another hour passed, and I sat on the stool slowly swinging my legs, watching the two of them. I’d fully bailed out of the good-natured contention three games before, saying I’d been humiliated enough for one night. Christopher won another game while Jared won two. They drank a few more beers, their laugher and jests increasing, their banter so much like it used to be. A hum of satisfaction pulsed into every crevice of my being.
Jared had stayed and I thought maybe he was happy.
Christopher was obviously having a really good time. Probably a little too much of a good time, as his jests started verging on the edge of obnoxious. It only made me laugh. With his bottle lifted high, he polished off what had to have been his seventh beer of the night. He slammed the bottle down on the small table before he leaned in to attempt a ridiculous jump shot. He fumbled and knocked the cue ball into the side pocket.
“Ah, shit,” he yelled through his raucous laughter as he stumbled back. He knocked into a guy trying to take a shot at the table behind him. Christopher jerked around, stretched out a hand to steady the guy he’d run into. A casual apology rolled naturally from his mouth. “Hey, sorry, man.” Christopher’s grin was wide.
But the other guy was furious. His hand fisted on his cue stick, aggressive as he sneered. “What the fuck, you little prick?”
He was shorter than Christopher, but wider, older, rougher. His head was shaved or bald, I couldn’t tell. I could almost read his thoughts in his too dark eyes, the flame of aggression as he made the decision to mess with my brother. The guy liked it. Hostility dripped from his body, and he took one antagonistic step forward.
My heart pounded and my hands clenched around the seat of the stool. I hated fighting, hated when nights meant to spend unwinding turned into bad memories because sick people would rather hurt someone than let them be.
Lifting both palms, Christopher took a step back. Realization had sobered his face. This time his smile was obviously forced as he aimed to temper the situation. “Hey, man, I said I was sorry. No harm intended.”
Christopher usually got along with everyone. He was one of those people everybody wanted to hang out with. He had this charm about him that drew in the masses. He knew it, too, used it to his advantage to lure in his prey or to calm a charged situation. I’d only seen him fight a couple of times, always out of necessity, when there was no other choice. And Christopher could hold his own, no question about it. But against this guy? I wasn’t so sure.
I eased off the stool and found my footing. I slipped up behind Christopher, intent on pulling him away. None of us needed to deal with this tonight, and I just wanted to go home. Where it was safe.
“Christopher,” I said quietly as I slowly approached him, hoping to get his attention so we could get out of there.
Jared’s mouth was suddenly hot at my cheek, his large hand splayed against the opposite side of my face as he firmly held my head, demanding my attention. He uttered a low warning in my ear. “Get back, Aly. I don’t want you anywhere near this asshole.”
Then he nudged me behind him, his arm extended back to keep me at bay. He crept forward to take up Christopher’s side. A clear declaration of alliance. Jared rolled his shoulders, this checked energy vibrating through his being. His hands clenched and curled, aggression coiling through the muscles of his arms that rippled and bunched under the colors marking his skin.
Fear turned my stomach. Fear of the guy staring down my brother, staring down Jared, fear at the violence skimming along the surface of Jared’s skin, itching to be released. I could feel it, this fierce rage that emanated from Jared’s spirit, like something dark had been unleashed and set free.
I turned my concentration from Christopher to Jared, sensing where the real danger lay. I placed an urgent hand on his upper back. “Jared, please, let’s just go,” I begged, so quietly I wasn’t sure either of them could hear, their focus entirely on the guy who cracked a menacing grin.
Jared twitched and shrugged me off, fisting his hands as he cocked his head in clear provocation.
We’d collected attention. A frantic murmur of voices and eyes descended upon the scene, a rustle of morbid interest as people began to draw near.
Panic prodded at my chest and twisted my stomach. We had to get out of here.
I edged in between Christopher and Jared, remaining just behind, determined to assuage the malice that had filled the air. This time I spoke a little louder and pulled at the back of Christopher’s shirt. “Jared… Christopher… come on, let’s just go. Please.”
The guy’s face contorted into a mocking sneer, taunting them. He looked directly at Jared. “Why don’t you tell your whore to shut her fucking mouth?”
Hearing those words, Jared snapped. He moved faster than I’d ever seen anyone move, rushing the guy with his arm cocked back. I watched in horror as Jared’s fist brutally slammed into the guy’s face. The punch connected with a sickening thud that reverberated in my ears. Blood spurted, gushing from the man’s nose as it ran profusely down his face and dripped from his chin.
At the sight of blood, Jared seemed to l
ose it completely. He roared, descended on the guy in a fury of pent-up madness. Fists flew in a constant barrage as Jared’s attack drew more blood. Each hit landed more savagely than the last. The guy tried to fight back, but Jared was too agile and dodged every returned blow.
Finally finding his feet, the guy swung his cue stick with a thundering cry. It whipped through the air as he angled it for Jared’s head.
Jared ducked. In the same motion, he ripped the stick from the other man. Grabbing it in both his hands, he held the weapon horizontal as he charged. Jared’s teeth were bared, clenched, and he rammed into the guy’s chest. He bent him backward over the pool table, the stick holding him down by the chest. The guy thrashed, pinned to the green felt with his legs flailing as he fought to find leverage on the ground.
Jared leaned in close and growled in his face, the words hoarse as they ripped from his throat. “What the fuck did you say? Say it again, fucker. I dare you, say it again.” Pulling back a fraction, Jared slammed him down again. “Say it again.”
The crowd swarmed, vying to get a better view.
“Fuck you,” the guy all but moaned. Jared had stripped him of any other form of defense, so the guy spat in his face.
Incensed, Jared roared and raised the cue above his head.
I realized I was screaming, screaming Jared’s name. “Jared, stop! Oh my God, please stop!”
Seemingly prompted by the fear in my voice, Christopher reacted. From behind, he yanked the stick from Jared’s hands. Jared whirled around, flinging his fist, his blue eyes wild as he readied for another attacker.
Christopher was quick enough to jump back, and the aimless punch connected with air. “Jared, come on, man, look at me.” Christopher came in close to Jared’s face, his hands on his shoulders. Jared struggled to break free. “Come on, Jared, snap the fuck out of it. This asshole isn’t worth it, and I guarantee the cops are on their way. We have to get Aly out of here.”
Bouncers were making their way through the leering crowd just as those wild blue eyes darted to me. Pain crumpled his face, and he raised his bloodied fists in some kind of tortured surrender.
Christopher jumped into action and jerked me by the hand. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” Shoving through the throng, Christopher headed toward the back. The crowd seemed to open and swallow us whole. People pressed into us, holding us back, then surging us forward. I grasped at Jared’s hand, holding tight as Christopher expertly forged our escape.
We stumbled out the back door. More people were cluttered in groups as they gathered to smoke, standing in the thick night air that was heavy with the growing storm. Thunder rumbled overhead, flashes of lightning illuminating the blackened sky. Wind gusted hard, whipping up dirt and debris as it blew in low. Cringing, I looked to the ominous sky.
“Come on, this way,” Christopher commanded. He pointed to the right, then tightened his hold on my hand as he took off at a jog into the darkness that ran behind a strip mall that had long since been closed down for the night.
My hold tightened on Jared’s hand as I dragged him behind me. I refused to let him go.
Christopher wound us back around the long way. The approaching storm pressed in from above. Energy crackled through the clouds and sped along the ground. Lightning flashed, and I stole a furtive glance over my shoulder at Jared. He kept his face hidden as he trained his eyes on his feet, his hand almost limp where it burned against mine.
I wanted to stop, to take his face in my hands, to beg him to tell me he was okay. Instead I struggled to keep up with Christopher, who raced ahead. Desperate, I squeezed Jared’s hand as I tugged him harder, hoping he would at least understand my worry. His touch remained unresponsive.
We slowed our pace as we rounded the corner and slinked around to the front of the buildings. “Just play it cool, Aly,” Christopher warned.
We hit the sidewalk, the dull streetlamps lighting our way as they blinked through the haze of the storm. Jared removed his hand from mine and dropped back two feet, and I walked hand in hand with Christopher, nestled up against his side with my head held low, as we approached the bar parking lot.
We’d come full circle.
Three cop cars sat in the middle of the lot. Red and blue lights flashed. No one even noticed us as we drew near. All attention seemed focused on the mayhem that was undoubtedly still taking place inside.
Silently, we slipped up to my car that sat in near darkness, dim lamps from the front of the bar casting shadows across the lot. I clicked the door locks on my fob, and we slid into our seats, Christopher in the front and Jared directly behind me in the back.
We said nothing, just let the tension stretch between us as I fumbled with the keys to start the ignition. Finally I found the slot and turned over the engine. Shaking, I backed out, put the car in gear, and slowly eased out onto the street.
In silence we waited for something… for someone to follow… for some consequence to come. Warily, I glanced up in the rearview mirror to the empty street behind us. No one followed. My eyes wandered to find Jared’s head hung how, his face buried in his bloodied hands.
Christopher turned fully in his seat and searched the distance. Then he cracked up. “Holy shit, man.” His smile was wide and sloppy when he looked at Jared, his buzz making a resurgence as he slapped Jared on the knee. “That was fucking awesome. You beat the shit out of that asshole. The second he said something about Aly, I knew you were going to lose it.” He laughed as he rushed a hand through his disheveled hair. “You were always that way… sticking up for her. Shit… I bet you’d kick my ass if I said something bad about her.”
He slanted a grin at me, then turned it on Jared. “You’re like some kind of avenging angel, or some shit. Who knows what would have happened if you didn’t step in tonight? Either my ass would have ended up in jail or I’d be the one in that asshole’s place. Dude was huge.” He laughed, glib, making light of whatever had occurred back at the bar. Christopher was oblivious of Jared’s misery, to the restlessness that twitched through his muscles, to the anxiety silencing his tongue.
Christopher turned up the radio and sang along to some terrible pop song, his voice raised and completely out of key. Leave it to my brother to completely miss what was really going on.
I turned at the gate to our complex. Again I lifted my face to search Jared’s in the mirror. I could feel it, him warring with whatever he’d been stricken by as he sat silently in my backseat. Punishing himself for his actions.
The protecting, I understood. One hundred percent. I would never criticize him for that. And maybe it was just the two of us who recognized it; the two of us that had felt his seething burn, the loss of control.
It scared me, and I knew it scared him, too.
Catching his eye in the mirror, I tried to convey that I understood. Ashamed, he dropped his gaze.
I pulled into my parking spot and cut the engine. Christopher and I climbed out of the car. It felt like an entire minute passed before the back door finally unlatched, resting ajar on the jamb. With his hand on the handle, Jared seemed to hesitate before he finally pushed open the door. When Jared slowly rose from the car, Christopher clapped him on the shoulder before he turned to head toward the apartment. Jared said nothing while the two of us made our way up the stairs. Walking a couple of steps ahead of him, I kept glancing back, searching for something. Jared gave me no response. And again I was silently pleading with him not to go.
All I wanted was for him to stay.
We entered into the sanctuary of the apartment, and I found myself wishing we’d never left it.
Christopher was in the kitchen, loud as he rummaged through the refrigerator on a mission to find something to eat. Just inside the door, I stopped. Exhaustion suddenly weighed down my arms, while adrenaline still knotted my stomach. It left me agitated and unsure.
Jared brushed by me and started toward the hall. Guarded, he paused and looked back on me with something that appeared to be an apology, before he di
sappeared into the bathroom. The door quietly snapped closed behind him, the click of the lock shutting me out.
I retreated into my room, calling, “Good night,” behind me.
It was an invitation. Please come.
I changed from my jeans and T-shirt into pajama pants and a tank, twisted my hair up into a messy tie. Sitting back on my bed, I leaned over and pulled my sketch pad from the floor and onto my lap. I turned to the last page I’d been working on, let my mind drift as I freed my hand.
Thunder rumbled overhead, shook the walls as the wind barreled and whistled through the trees.
The pencil rushed over the page, shading the perfect planes of his face, darkening his eyes because in them there was so much pain. Every time I thought maybe we were ebbing the pain away, it was only exposed how much deeper it went.
Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You) Page 19
