Falling for Seven

by T. A Richards Neville

  “We’ll see!” he shouted.

  <>

  Glenvale nursing home was big, expensive, and it was where my dad’s mom, Nellie, now permanently lived. When I’d first ever visited Glenvale I thought of it as more of a war camp than a nursing home, but now I knew the nurses and I saw how happy Nellie was, I knew how lucky she was to call this place home.

  I signed in at the entrance and spotted her in one of the small and cozy dayrooms, surrounded by floor to ceiling windows bowing out over the lush grounds. There’d been no expense spared on pops part with the choice of living facilities, even though my paternal grandparents had divorced twenty years before Nellie was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

  She was sitting up in an arm chair, a quilted throw draped over her legs and a picture book in her hand.

  “Nell.” I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her on the cheek, sitting on the armrest.

  She looked at me with milky-blue eyes and a vacancy deeper than any ocean. But her smile was real. Ninety-nine percent of the time she didn’t know who she was or where she was, but her smile never wilted. Wherever and whoever she was, she was happy.

  “What you got there?” I pointed to the heavy picture book, page to page of young Elvis Presley and his biography.

  She looked down at the black and white photography and smiled. “Handsome young man, this one.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s my boyfriend. Mother hates him, though. She’s always keeping us apart.”

  I grinned. “Why would she do that?”

  “Because she’s hideous, that’s why. He took me to the playground the other day, and don’t tell anybody,” she yanked on my sleeve, pulling me farther down, and her lips came to my ear. “We kissed on the merry-go-round, and when no one was looking, he put his hand up my skirt and—”

  “Oh, god, really? That’s so romantic.” Ugh, the outcome of that story scared me.

  Jennifer, Nell’s favorite nurse came over and I asked her, “How’s she been?”

  Jennifer sighed, her smile watered-down. “As good as she can be. She’s still as sharp as a knife, aren’t you, Nellie?”

  “Have you seen my boyfriend?” Nellie crooked an arthritic finger for Jennifer to come look at her rock ‘n’ roll lover who died thirty-eight years ago.

  “My, Nellie, he’s a looker. How do you keep the competition away?”

  “Pfft, competition! You don’t know what you are talking about, girl.”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes, patting Nellie’s shoulder, and then left to see to another resident.

  “Hey,” I said, I appreciating that in a past life Nell would have loved this. “I met someone at school. He’s arrogant and he’s cock-sure of himself, but you would like him… I think.” She always preferred the fiery ones. “He wants to be friends, but I’m on the fence. And he’s my dad’s quarterback. Do you remember Michael, your son?”

  Nellie considered this, and a taut smile stretched out her thin lips, her re-lived youth slipping for a few seconds of cherished clarity. “Michael is a good boy deep down.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Deep, deep down. So what do you think? About the boy? The arrogant asshole?”

  “All the good looking ones are arrogant assholes. Is he a good kisser?”

  “I’ve never kissed him.”

  Nellie tugged on my shirt, reminding me of a small child. “Nurse?”

  My sigh was rich with despair but I smiled at my grandma who had not the slightest clue that we were family. This was no surprise to me, going unrecognized, but it never got any easier. “Yes?” I said, moving my hand over hers.

  “When can I go home?”

  “You are home.”

  She looked around, seeing the day room through fresh eyes, her memory forever on a loop of renewing itself. “Oh yeah,” she said, so easily convinced. “So I am.”

  “Do you want me to do your hair for you? I could put your rollers in.” I played with the white hair around her shoulders.

  “I do have a date tonight. Yes, I should probably have my rollers in.”

  “With Elvis?”

  “Elvis? Who’s Elvis? No, Sam. My boyfriend.”

  “The guy in the book?” I singled out a picture of Elvis wearing military uniform.

  “Yes, that’s Sam. Dear lord, child. Did I not just tell you this?”

  “Your memory isn’t that bad, I see,” I mumbled.

  “My memory’s fine.” She turned the page, her finger landing on a picture of Elvis and Priscilla on their wedding day. “Would you look at us at Prom?” I fought the frown from my forehead and tried not to smile too hard. “I want my hair like that now. Can you make it like that again?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll go get what I need. You wait here.”

  “Oh my god.” Her hand was back tugging at my sleeve. This top would be stretched out by the time I left here. “Did I ever tell you when Sam put his hand up my skirt?”

  <>

  I walked home, my mood transformed into one more manageable after a few hours with Nellie. At the student villages, music blared, penetrating the music from my own earbuds. I pulled them from my ears and jumped backwards when Kit’s smiling face took over my entire view. “Holy shit,” I said, grasping at my chest. “You scared me.”

  “Come on. You’re coming to my place and ‘no’ is a word I do not understand.”

  You’re telling me…

  “I just walked from Glenvale, I’m gross.”

  “You look fine to me.”

  “I stink and I’m all sweaty. I’m not going anywhere like this.”

  “No problem. I’ll wait while you shower and change.”

  “I’m tired” I kept on to my building and Kit followed right behind me.

  “Everyone’s tired. It’s nothing a shower won’t fix. I’ll come with, just to make sure you don’t skip out on me.” She was smiling like a crazed lunatic, too happy for a Thursday. But being a little excited, that was hardly a crime. I couldn’t fathom why she would be interested in me, she struck me as having no shortage of friends.

  Mia didn’t waste her energy on greeting me, or looking at me or Kit when we came into the room. She simply flipped over on the bed onto her other side, taking her open book with her. Marilyn had called me earlier to tell me that she wouldn’t be back until late because she was going to her moms, so I hadn’t been expecting her.

  Kit waved her hands at me. “Hurry, shower. My parties wait for no one.”

  I showered quickly, taking my clothes in the bathroom with me to get ready in private. I matched my leggings with chucks and a baggy, sleeveless T-shirt. I was underdressed compared to Kit’s tiny skirt and silk blouse, but I wasn’t overly keen on going anyway, so why dress up? I tipped my head upside down and let the diffuser on my hairdryer do its work.

  My hair had a natural, ever-present curl running through it, and it passed for presentable when I put in a small amount of effort. I would normally use the flat-iron, but tonight was not one of those occasions. I put in silver hoop earrings and I was ready.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Kit was sat on the end of my bed, unaffected by Mia’s rudeness. Cheery must be her thing all the time. “That was quick. No makeup?”

  “No makeup.” I didn’t care if she thought I looked like shit. I was comfortable so I was happy.

  Kit walked faster than me. Probably faster than anyone could in four-inch heels, and she did it with enviable grace. Her blonde hair was swept back in a pristine ponytail, her bangs brushed to the side. She turned to smile at me with soda-pink lips. “Hurry up, girl.”

  I think I was starting to like her.

  Inside Kit’s mansion of a house, every available space had been replaced with someone drinking from a plastic cup. Old school, Bobby Valentino pumped from a hidden stereo and there were more than a few people indulging in acts that would be far better suited to the bedroom.

  “Drinks are in the kitchen,” Kit said, already eyeballing something or som
eone else, and she suddenly seemed much less interested in me. She hooked her fingers over the arm of the next guy to walk past. “Nicky, would you show Angel where the drinks are?”

  Nicky grinned at me and I felt forever awkward for being dumped on him like this. I’d be surprised if he came here tonight to babysit.

  “This way.” He laid his hand on my lower back and guided me through the party while Kit went the other way, out of sight. Nicky handed me a bottle of beer from the fridge and grabbed his own. “Oh, man,” he said, taking a drink.

  I took a drink of cold beer. “What?”

  “Lawson will have my balls.”

  “Julian, why?”

  “You’re his new toy, didn’t you know?” A flicker of something more danced behind his eyes, setting me on edge.

  “I’m not his anything.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “He can’t just strut around getting everything he wants.”

  This made Nicky smile. “Then you obviously don’t know Seven very well.”

  I agreed. “You’re right, I don’t. Don’t want to either.”

  Nicky raised an eyebrow. “You’re not one of those man-haters, are you? You seem pretty angry.”

  I let the tension escape my shoulders and I smiled at what he had said. “No, I’m not. I’m just… It’s nothing. I don’t hate men.”

  “Good. You like football?”

  “No.”

  He laughed, his green-blue eyes creasing at the corners. He wasn’t as good looking as Julian, but he was still something to look at. His brown hair was cropped short, and just like Julian, he wore diamond studs in each ear. He was built, too, the muscles in his arm rounded through his T-shirt. “You should come to a game. Cheer on Seven.”

  “That sounds like I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”

  Nicky started to laugh again. “Man, you’re a piece of work. You hate football, you hate men.”

  “I do not hate men.”

  “How can you hate football when you’re O’Hara’s girl?”

  I froze mid-sip. “How did you know that?” I’d made my dad promise to keep it zipped.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell daddy you’re here, living it up with his players. But same goes for you. I don’t want him to know I was here either.” He snickered into his beer.

  A small, pretty brunette approached us, entangling her fingers with Nicky’s. “Nicky, baby. You wanna go upstairs?” She didn’t factor in that I was standing there, and Nicky finished off his beer in three swigs, banging the empty onto the counter. He looked at me, flashing a smile.

  “C’ya around, Angel.”

  I stood alone like a sore thumb, in a crowd of people who knew all each other, chewing over what Julian had been telling his friends about me. I knew no one, apart from kit, and I had no idea where she had gone. I made a beeline for the patio doors and grabbed an open vodka bottle from the counter, helping myself to a vodka and coke. I wasn’t a big drinker—I hardly drank at all—but this was a party and I was searching for fun. I figured I was entitled. I sat outside on the low, misshapen stone surround of a mangled and unkempt flower garden. The song switched to one I’d never heard and a rowdy bunch of guys piled out onto the lawn. I’d already deciphered his substantial height and obtrusive presence when Julian stepped out of the group and headed straight for me.

  “Chica,” he said, his voice breathy from the alcohol. He took up the space next to me, his cologne wrapping around my senses. He held a half-drunk bottle of vodka in his hand and his blue eyes were glassy from intoxication.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not?”

  Think of an answer.

  “You prefer baby?”

  Kill me now.

  “I can’t do this assignment with you if you keep talking to me that way.”

  He stared at me, his playfulness easing into an expression of one more serious. “Let’s start right now. Tell me something about you.”

  “You want to do it now? But this is a party.” I held up what was left of my drink in emphasis.

  “Tell yourself that. You don’t look like you’re having any fun, so why not? You’re sitting out here alone. You might as well have fuck off written on your forehead, so, yeah, let’s do this right now, right here.”

  I considered what he was saying. I suppose it wasn’t like I was doing a whole lot else. “I’m a figure skater competing at national level. I’m majoring in Sociology—”

  “No.” Julian shook his head. “Tell me something real.”

  “Something real? That was real.”

  “Anyone would know that shit. Tell me something private, something no one else knows.”

  “I don’t know anyone here.” I spoke slowly and deliberately, like he was incompetent. “Nobody knows anything about me.”

  Julian took a swig of his vodka, pulling a face on the after-burn. “You’ve got a story and I want to know what it is.”

  “And what’s your story?” I took a drink of my own vodka, relying on the alcohol to make this conversation a smidgen more effortless.

  “I love football, I love my family; I love my life. Hell, I love myself.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You don’t say? I’d never have guessed.”

  He laughed, downing more vodka. “Aint nothin’ wrong with that.” He passed me the bottle. “Here. Have some. Loosen up.”

  I looked at the vodka and then I looked at Julian, before setting down my empty glass. He pushed it towards me with raised eyebrows. “It’s clean, I swear.”

  It wasn’t that I thought he’d roofie me; I hated the taste of liquor on its own, and I couldn’t drink it with even a hint of sophistication. I threw caution to the wind and took the bottle, knocking it back. I nearly choked on the burning in my throat, while Julian sat there laughing at me. He rubbed his hand on my back when my display of idiocy didn’t ease up, then shifted in closer, his arm slipping around my waist like I wouldn’t notice.

  It was the first time I had seen him in jeans and he wore them like he was the model on a billboard. His plain white tee fit him like a glove, the Calvin Klein logo emblazoned on his left breast bone. I had the strangest urge to brush my fingers over the embossment. He lowered his lids, swallowing me up in his heady gaze. His fingers dug deeper into my t-shirt covered flesh, working their way under the hem until I felt his skin on my skin. He brought the vodka bottle up to my chest and the liquid sloshed up inside the glass when he knocked it against me, pointing his finger just below the underside of my bra. “I want to know what’s going on in here. Not some bullshit hobby.”

  “It’s not bullshit, and why do you care?”

  He shrugged and took another pull on the vodka bottle. “I just do.” I ever so discreetly knocked his arm from my waist and shuffled over, a safe gap appearing between us. “I know what’s got your thong in a twist. You think ‘cause your Coach’s daughter you should keep away from me. You think he’ll kick my ass? Kick your ass?” Julian must have misread my glare. “Why would he want his precious Angel messing with one of his goons?”

  “Actually, no,” I cut in. “It’s not that at all.”

  “Jules, there you are.” Kit was leading a few guys I recognized over to us, including Nicky with the brunette from earlier tucked under his arm.

  Julian looked away from me with a sneer, and I cursed myself for feeling feel so rejected by his easy dismissal. He stood up, taking the offered blunt from Nicky. He took a long drag, tipping his head and exhaling the creamy smoke up into the black, starless sky.

  “We’re gonna play spin the bottle.” Kit eyed Julian with a daring smile on her face. “You in?”

  “Aren’t we a little old for spin the bottle?” Julian took another hit of the blunt, frowning at Kit as he held in the precious smoke.

  “Call it the explicit version.”

  Julian passed the blunt back to Nicky. “I guess I got nothin’ better to do.”

  I felt the sting of rejection again. M
y initial reservations about Julian were right. He was one friend too many, and he was full of it, turning it on and off whenever it suited. Well, I wouldn’t be his plaything, not today, not tomorrow—not ever. I would speak to Marcus tomorrow and switch partners. I would never get this assignment finished working beside Julian, he was too much of a head-fuck. I didn’t even believe it was me he was interested in, it was the distraction. I would have ended up doing all the work while he spouted all kinds of shit trying to get into my pants just for something to do.

  “Angel.”

  It was Julian, and he was talking to me. “What?” I said curtly.

  “You in?”

  I was about to say no, but the way Julian was looking at me, like he expected me to wimp out like some silly child made me feel I had something to prove.

  “Angel?”

  I stood when I heard my name spoken by a voice that was only all too familiar. Everyone turned and I felt the pull of a surprised frown while my head tried to make sense of what was going on. “Jordan?”

  “You know him?” It was Julian. He could have been speaking to anyone.

  I smiled, the world righting itself just a little bit more. My smile spread, like an infectious disease. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  4: Julian

  BOYFRIEND? WAS SHE FUCKING kidding me? She waits till he turns up before dropping any hint that the guy exists. She’s got a boyfriend? For some reason I’m finding the news a really hard and bitter pill to swallow. Boyfriend? Fuck. The guy’s just standing there, blending into the background. Angel wasn’t the best looking but he’s in another league all together. He must have a winning personality, or a huge fucking dick, because I don’t get it. It’s worse than a bad joke. I can feel Nicky laughing behind me. Doesn’t mean anything, though. Bet still stands. They can’t be serious, or she’d have mentioned him by now. I was seething and it must have showed, because kit was glaring at me.

  I wasn’t hanging around for any big introductions. “Let’s play, then,” I said, and then looked at Angel. “If you’re allowed, that is.”