“And that’s why I’m calling. You don’t need to miss me anymore, Mom. I want to come home to California with you.”
35: Angel
LEAVING WAS THE RIGHT choice for me. I’d come to Boston at my dad’s will and it never worked out. Not the way it should have. Not well enough that my life would carry on from here. I’d met people I would never forget no matter how much I wanted to, and others who would stay with me, heart and soul. I closed my iMac and balled-up my notes, throwing them in the trash. My assignment spilled from the printer, all four pages of it. Four pages didn’t seem like enough. Four pages and a conclusion that wasn’t a conclusion at all. Nothing with Julian and I felt finished—complete. The whole story was open-ended. I stared at my plane ticket, sitting malignant on my desk.
“Have you decided what you’re wearing tonight?” Marilyn came out of the bathroom in her bathrobe, combing her wet tangles of hair.
This was my last week in Boston for a while. My Sociology paper was due Monday and I was flying to California on Friday for fall break. I would be back for exams, and then when my transcripts and credits were ready, I would start my winter semester at Santa Monica College.
“I haven’t looked yet.”
I rubbed the tired from my eyes and dragged my ass out of the chair to rake my unenticing wardrobe for something to wear. A few minutes of searching and I pulled out leather leggings with silver zips at the hips and a loose, sheer black tank top. I showered, and then dressed, matching a black Wonderbra to my outfit. I dried my hair almost straight, allowing the natural wave to roll through, and then fastened my ankles into a pair of high, black strappy heels. With an oversized black clutch and a touch of makeup, I was good to go.
Marilyn stood in front of her mirror, finishing off her outfit with gold earrings. She was wearing a long-sleeved white playsuit with gold heels, her legs freshly spray tanned. She grabbed her purse, slotting in her fake I.D at the last minute.
“One second.” I adjusted her curled hair over her shoulder. “There. Let’s go.” I flicked out the light and locked the door. “Is Mia meeting us at the bar?”
“She sure is.” Marilyn dug around her purse and passed me a thin card. “This is for you.”
“Whose is this?” I stared at the picture of the young brunette. Katy Vanderman.
“That is you.”
“This isn’t me.”
“Speaking like that isn’t going to get you into a club. That is you and you answer to Katy. Well, tonight you do. Can you manage that, Katy?”
“She looks nothing like me. Her eyes are green.”
“You both have dark hair. You are both girls.” She waved her hand in the air at the approaching car. “Oh here’s our cab.”
We rode to Players first to meet Mario, his friends Jake and Vinnie, and Jordan and Katlyn. When we got there, three times the amount of people were waiting for us, including Mia. Our drinks came to the table and Marilyn snatched my coke away, setting it down beside her on the seat. She took a large drink from my glass and a quart bottle of vodka from her purse, pouring to fill. It was too crowded for anyone to notice, but I still worked here up until January.
Mia left to use the bathroom and Katlyn scuttled into her seat, sliding her drink along the table. She looked pretty tonight in a lemon colored tank top and white dress shorts. Her brown hair lay on her shoulders, her bangs swept to the side. “I’m real sorry about what Julian did to you.”
“I’m real sorry all his friends know about it,” I said.
A rueful smile tugged at her lips. “All kit’s doing. Julian isn’t saying anything. We don’t see him anymore. He never comes around.”
“If you want me to feel bad for him, I don’t.” I twirled the straw in my glass and lowered my head to take a drink. The vodka was strong and I’d already drank half.
“It was Nicky’s dumb idea.”
“Julian didn’t have to agree. I’m not blaming Nicky for this.”
“He was the catalyst.” Katlyn picked up her drink. “I’m not speaking to him.”
“I know. I don’t blame you. Don’t think I’d speak to him, either.”
“He’s such a big idiot. The day he grows up is the day pigs fly.”
“It’s hard to forgive,” I said. “Even when you want to.”
“He’s done some stupid-ass things since I’ve known him. But this takes the lead. We were in such a good place. Is it so hard for a guy to keep his dick in his pants?”
“Apparently,” I mumbled. “But Kit only done it for attention. You should get Nicky’s side before you go making any final decisions.” When she gave me an ice-cold look, I said, “Just a thought.”
“There is no Nicky’s side. Kit’s vagina, his penis. What’s there to explain? You can’t explain that.”
I nodded, a partial smile in agreement. But if anyone could, Nicky could. Something told me they’d get through it like they always did.
The night passed in drunken conversations and then we moved on, ending up in a club called Silk. My I.D held up, mostly because of my Wonderbra according to Marilyn who said “she could not stop looking at my boobs.” We ordered a round of drinks and the next song had us up on the dancefloor. I flipped my hair, rubbing my ass against Marilyn whose arms were over my shoulders. Mia’s outdated dance moves were hilarious and she was blind to care, her eyes closed and her body leading the way, thumping into anyone who was brave enough to cross her path. As Marilyn spun me around, our hands joined in the air, I glanced back, my gaze sweeping the bar in a mad rush. The crowd that was in my way parted enough to confirm what I thought I had saw.
Nicky stood with both elbows on the bar and I froze, my feet still moving but my eyes searching all available space for Julian. My gaze landed back on Nicky and all I could do was stare. He tipped his head for me to come over and I adamantly shook my head no.
He’d decided he was over asking a few hours later. I was sitting at the table with Jordan, approaching my vodka-intake limit, when Nicky sat down with us, his arm resting over my shoulder. He looked at Jordan sitting opposite us. “Could you go away for a minute?”
I blasted Nicky with a concrete look of outrage. “Uh, he doesn’t have to leave.”
Jordan went to stand up. “It’s cool. I gotta take a piss anyway.”
Nicky grinned, his arm around my shoulders flexing, drawing me closer to his side. “And don’t hurry back, yeah?”
Jordan shook his head and picked up his glass. Whatever he said was too low to hear, but I got the general gist from the sulky look on his face. He headed towards everyone else by the bar and Nicky released me, shifting forward in his seat to turn and look at me, head on.
He tsk’d, making clear his feelings. “What do you want?” I asked. Although, I already had a good idea why he was here.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“The bad news,” I said, on a depleted sigh.
“Okay, the bad news is there’s no good news.” I gnashed my teeth together when his grin broke out into a jubilant smile. “I’m kidding. But no, seriously, there’s no good news. You fucked my boy over, Angel. And now you need to fix it.”
“Did you really sit there in front of my face and say that to me?”
“Yeah I said it. Someone needs to.”
“And what is it you think I need to fix?”
“Seven backed out of the bet.”
My stance tightened, my back straightening with a defensive resistance. “Before or after he slept with me?”
Nicky palmed his eyes, restless his shit argument wasn’t going to work. “After,” he practically sighed. “But that means jack.”
“Not to me.”
“Seven doesn’t do chicks, unless he’s doing chicks. He fucked up, but you’re fucking it up more. You won’t even hear him out. You might be perfect, but not everyone else is.”
“I’m not perfect,” I said, incredulous.
“Then stop acting like it. People make fucking mistakes.”
“Yeah,
and those mistakes define what kind of person you are.”
“And what kind of person are you going to be? Nicky got up and leaned across the table, his palms flat on the wood. “Seven didn’t fuck you for a bet. He fucked you because he likes you, and that’s the truth. Deal with it.”
<>
I clutched my papers in my hands, staring at the words until they blurred into a gray abstract, and then folded them up, hiding them away in my bag. My final assignment was due in fifteen minutes and I splashed water onto my face, drying off with a paper towel. There was nothing to be so anxious about. I was handing in my paper and Julian wouldn’t find out what was on it until it had been graded. After that, Marcus would swap our papers so we could see what our partner truly thought our significance was worth.
I startled as the bathroom door opened. Kit stood behind me, reflected in the mirror, her feet pausing when she saw me there. “Don’t go,” I said, when she looked like she was about to walk back out. I turned around, shifting my backpack. “I want to you to know that I’m sorry.”
She scrunched her face in either anger or confusion. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes. For Julian. For not staying away. I went through hell with Jordan and you went through hell with Julian. You may not have been together, together, but you still loved him. I got in the way. I was so busy thinking about myself that I forgot to think about you.”
She stayed firm, her chin jutting out. “Yes you did get in the way.” I looked at the floor, easing my guilt. “But I put you in the way.”
I glanced up. The tension in kit’s face relaxed and she folded her arms in front of her, meditating her next step. “Ten seconds into finding out you had a boyfriend and I knew that Julian was into you.”
“It never meant anything other than he didn’t want to lose his car.”
“Bet’s don’t make you jealous. Giving a shit makes you jealous. Julian was into you the first time he saw you, he just didn’t know it.”
“I don’t think that’s the case.”
Kit shrugged a shoulder like it didn’t matter. We both knew it did mater. Her initial reaction had cleared that up. “I’m sorry about all this, too. I’m sorry you came here, and I’m sorry you took the person I am in love with and made him love you instead. I’m sorry for it all.”
God, could she make me feel any worse?
“But I’m mostly sorry I didn’t handle it better. It’s a shame you’re leaving Boston over this, but truthfully? I’m glad.”
I had no reply for that. That was how she felt, I couldn’t change her mind. Sometimes no matter what is going on in real life, once love gets in the way, you only see and hear what you want to. No amount of rationalizing or persuasion can make you see otherwise. Because love isn’t rational, for some of us it’s irrational and it doesn’t care who gets hurt or who isn’t strong enough to survive it, even long after it’s gone.
Kit met my gaze, a silent mutuality passing between us. We weren’t going to move past this, and it no longer mattered. I wouldn’t be here. She looked away and headed into the stall, the door rattling on its hinges. It was time to get my shit together. I was minutes from what felt like walking into the eye of the storm.
36: Julian
“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?” He was supposed to have left town Sunday, right after he brought Taj home. According to my mom, anyway. Apparently, she lies.
“I wanted to see you.”
I never could read his poker face. His eyes gave you nothing, no emotion, no feeling. It was hard to take my dad at face value when he gave you no reason to believe him. Most people have a tell. He didn’t. Our Eyes were the same color, but there was no depth to his. Not one single layer.
“You saw me. I’m late for class.”
“Julian, wait.”
I sighed, almost at the door. “What,” I asked, with my back to him.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. One day, you’ll see that.”
I turned around, my fists itching to clench. “What, so you happen to leave one day and Sarah is there waiting for you? She telepathically knew you weren’t happy with mom and you just found her in New fucking Jersey, ready to play house?”
“You can’t help who you fall in love with.”
There were those fucking eyes. He could be lying, he could be pouring his heart out. I had no idea which one it was.
“So you didn’t love mom?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Until?”
“Until I didn’t. Not enough to stay and act like everything was peachy. Because it wasn’t.”
“And it had nothing to do with what happened to Taj?” I was a selfish prick bringing my own guilt into it, but the coincidence and timing was astounding. “Tell me now that you started an affair, or you left because you couldn’t take what I did to Taj. It was one of those. You don’t just walk out on your own damn family.”
His gaze flitted sideways.
So he did have a tell. He couldn’t look his own son in the eye.
“Does your mother know?”
“Of course she fucking knows you were banging someone else. She just doesn’t talk about it. None of us talk about it, because if I so much as mention your name, she shuts down. She still loves you, even though you crapped all over her. But don’t worry, dad. We’ll pick up the pieces, just like we have for the past seven years.”
I opened the door and waited for him to get the fuck out of my house. He hesitated, taking a deep breath. He looked up at me, a remorseful smile sitting the wrong way on his face.
“Ah… so that’s why you’re here.”
He stood silent for a while. Staring at me, he didn’t deny what I had already worked out. If he didn’t say something soon, I was going to drag him out by the collar of his fancy jacket. Lucky for him, he spoke. “I thought I could stay for your game on Saturday.”
“I’m not throwing the game for you so you can make your wallet fatter. I did it once. It won’t happen again.”
“I don’t want you to throw the game. Just, you know, take a backseat.”
All odds were now on us taking our second championship this season. But my father fancied his own odds. Better odds against his own blood. It really was just a game to him, and I was just another player.
“Take a fucking backseat? Do you hear yourself? An agent or a scout could be in the stands watching me take a back seat. You think they’re going to want to represent me after they see me having a fucking rest, while the rest of my team works their asses off to make it to the playoffs? I’m the quarterback not the fucking waterboy. Not that you give a shit. That’s my team, I lead them.”
I wasn’t backing down. I’d never be that stupid again. I played my part in deliberately losing a game once in my sophomore year, when I was young and naïve, but I’d learned my lesson and I didn’t like how it felt to be a loser. A self-made loser while my dad stood victorious, cashing in on my stupidity. A team was a team for a reason.
He stalked past me, abruptly stopping by the Range rover, his own rental parked behind. He looked at the car, rubbing the metallic paint. “I bought you this. I can take it away just as easy.”
“So take it. Give it to one of your new kids. When I’m pro and you’re begging me to take a sack or accidently blow out my knee cap, keep in mind that I don’t you a damn thing.”
His laugh was sharper than razor blades. He sneered at me like I was a born idiot. “You don’t owe me a thing? I’ll take that into account when I pay for Taj’s surgery in February.” He patted his hand on my car window. “See you, Julian.”
He got out his keys, unlocking the rental. “Oh, and good luck Saturday. You never know who’s betting against you.”
After he left and I was rushing through the hallways, trying to make it to my Monday morning Sociology class, I realized I’d left my paper on the dashboard in the car. “Fuck!” I spun around, running back the way I had come. By the time I made it to the lecture hall, rustling in fifteen minutes late, someone was already at
the front of the room, speaking into the microphone. I found a seat in the middle, making everyone stand to let me past. I sat down, pulling off my cap and leaning back into the seat, my breathing slowing.
The speaker paused and I looked up. It was Angel who was stood at the front, and Marcus held out his hand, signaling for her to continue. She looked at him, an unspoken plea to send her back to her seat.
Too bad, Angel. I wanted to hear what she had to say about me.
“Uh…” She looked up. Her gaze settled on me and I sat up, looking right back at her. Then she looked down at her papers, pushing her loose hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. I could feel her nerves all the way from here. She hated this as much as I was dying to hear it.
Then she started to speak.
“When I first met Julian Lawson, I thought I had him all figured out, his lifestyle on and off the pitch. He was a jock—quarterback for the football team—and carried around an ego that was barely contained by his helmet. I saw what everyone else saw. The guy who has it all. Athletic body, an arm that will one day be insured for millions, and an attitude fit for a celebrity. He barely even had a name, he was simply known as Seven to anyone on the outside.” She wrapped her fingers around the microphone, like that would be able to help her out, push her to keep going. “Julian scores touchdowns on and off the field, pushing himself for his school and for his future. Passion as strong as his is what makes the world go round. Whether he’s angry or happy, he puts his all into it, never going in by half. It took me a few attempts to see that Julian is more than just a number or a football player. Getting Julian to let you in is a lot harder than you might think. But if you’re lucky enough to make it, the donkey ride to get there is worth it. If Julian cares about you, he will put the whole world—and his—before you. He will protect you and stand up for you.”
Her gaze shifted to me, the light in her brown eyes dying. None of this real. That’s how she was looking at me. This was an assignment and she had already started taking back every word she was speaking. She no longer believed it, but she couldn’t tell everyone the real person she had uncovered. She’d be too humiliated.
Falling for Seven Page 32
