Wicked Boys

by Nora Cobb

  “Like an electric eel, baby.” He smirks.

  I scoff. “You’re so weird though.”

  Dom rolls onto his side to face me. “So what was that at your dad’s house? Your brother’s in a complicated relationship?”

  “Polyamorous.” I sigh. “He has a wife, and she has two other husbands.” Normally I wouldn’t discuss Troy’s relationship. I wonder about it but never talk about it with anyone, not even Troy. But I feel good lying in Dom’s bed. And I start to realize that we are just hanging out like friends, the way he does with Luna. The same way we hang out, splitting a cigarette.

  “Is that even legal?” he asks, scowling at me.

  I shrug, tilting my head closer toward his. “They formed a business together, so they’re legally linked.”

  “Makes sense,” he says, thinking it over. “Marriage is a costly business. So was that your plan? Was that why you were okay with us under the boat?”

  “We’re supposed to be talking about you,” I remind him.

  “Funny,” he says, “how jealous you were of Luna. You are a greedy girl.”

  We’re supposed to be talking about him. I’m trying to talk about him. He’s in some serious shit. He’s being disowned, but he’s making it about me again. I scowl at that obscene poster, noticing that blue Vicki has nip-slip on both sides. I try to climb over Dom without touching him, which is impossible, but I’ll do it.

  “Vicki, don’t,” he starts to apologize, “I’m done pretending. Seriously, I want you. I want us to be together; the two of us, we can start over.”

  I freeze over him, on my hands and knees, hovering over his body. And this time, when Dom kisses me, I feel it again. A chill spreads over my skin as his lips touch mine. He brushes my mouth lightly as if he’s taking little tastes of me. And I watch him with hazy eyes. Dom reaches up and cups my head to his mouth, and I open mine. I gasp for air as he devours my kisses. He pulls me down to his chest, and I flow into him, body and soul.

  “I know you love me, but why?” he asks.

  I touch the tip of his nose with my lips. “You’re my Malibu boy. Remember?”

  Dom smiles. “You’re a goofy girl.”

  “And it’s so hard to hate you,” I reply, “when you’re acting like a nut.”

  “I didn’t know being a mad lad was attractive.”

  “It’s not,” I reply firmly, “but you survived being around a bad situation. Mel couldn’t have been easy, but you survived with your kindness intact.”

  “I had my uncle Spear. And now I hope I have you.” Dom smiles. “Do we have time for a quickie?”

  “No!” I lift off him and grab my phone. “We have less than three minutes to get to our next class.”

  “I only need thirty seconds.”

  “Don’t try to impress me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Greg

  In my mind, my children never grow up, but they keep reminding me that they’re adults. When I look at Vicki, I still see a little toddler running toward me, giggling with her arms outstretched and calling out for her da-da. I sigh, turning into the driveway of the home we barely spend time in together. The plan was for her to finish high school on the West Coast while she lived here. What a fucking nightmare this year has been. I should’ve run her life like one of my start-ups, with an iron fist and a firm “no.” Then Vicki would’ve stayed on the right path.

  And she would have hated me for controlling her life like Maya did.

  Speak of the devil and she will appear. I roll my eyes when I see Maya’s new Lexus in our driveway. She dresses in white and gold now, showing off her flat midriff like a twenty-something at the gym. She’s no longer trying to make me regret what I’ve lost. I regret many things but not divorcing her.

  “Maya,” I greet her as I get out of my car. “Another unannounced visit? People might start getting the wrong ideas.”

  She doesn’t wait for the door to open before she swoops down for the kill.

  “Trying to sneak out of town, Greg?” She slaps the realtor’s sign with her fist, causing it to shake.

  I don’t answer, debating on whether I want to have this conversation outside or inside. I choose inside. And opening the door, I hold it open for Maya, and she stomps inside like I should’ve known she wanted to come inside.

  “I’d offer you something to drink,” I tell her while tossing down my messenger bag. “But that might give you the wrong impression that you’re welcomed here.”

  Maya turns to glare at me, and I can never tell if she’s mad because she always looks pissed. “You’ve fucked up, Greg. Again. Our daughter has been traumatized.”

  I frown in confusion. “By whom? You?” I lift my hands to warn her back when she takes a step forward.

  “I’ve called my lawyers.” She waves her finger. “I am taking custody before you can mess her up like you did our son.”

  “What have you heard?” I’m not about to tell her about the three boyfriends. And I say a silent prayer that she’s not about to tell me something worse than what I know if that’s possible.

  “My daughter is involved with some seedy people. A porn producer and his son? A boy who is sleeping with his teacher? And involved in an altercation at a porn studio mid-shoot?”

  “They’re rumors, Maya.” I sigh. “Vicki isn’t involved.”

  “Did you know her teacher is in the hospital?” A look of triumph replaces her frown when I stare at her for an explanation. “She’s in St. Joseph’s Medical in a coma. It’s the woman that seduced that boy, and now that boy is with Vicki.”

  I blink my eyes in shock, and Maya places her hands on her hips in triumph, a nasty smile curling up on her face. My chest feels tight as I process what I’m hearing versus what I know. Vicki hasn’t told me everything, and for a brief moment, I consider telling Maya to take Vicki home with her. I take a breath and pause. Vicki is my little girl. I imagine her face covered in tears if I betray her to her mother. I hate the thought of letting Maya win.

  “You have no idea how to raise a teenage girl,” she continues, her voice grows louder. “Where is my daughter?”

  “At school,” I reply, “Where she should be. Where’s Dennis?”

  Maya looks away, and her gaze rests on a little side table that I brought with me from the house in New Jersey. It’s old, but not an antique or anything that will increase in value. I like it for tossing my keys on it when I walk in the door. Maya left it when she moved out, but she stares at it like she wants it now.

  “When you sell the house, I want this table,” she tells me, running her finger along the worn edge.

  “It’s not a BOGO sale, Maya.” My temper ticks up. “You can’t keep taking things from me.” I take a quick stride toward her and grip her around the arm. Maya struggles, hitting my hand, but I keep a firm grip until she’s in front of the door. “You want to walk outside, or would you prefer to be tossed out on your ass?”

  Maya grabs the screen door and flings it open. When she’s safely in the driveway, she turns around and starts up again with the big bad talk. “Lawyer up, Greg, because I am taking my daughter and whatever else I want from you.”

  I shake my head. “I gave you that divorce settlement, you rotten bitch. You did not win it. It was my parting gift to you. I could’ve left you without a penny, and if you try it again, I will.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jagan

  “Inhale. I’m watching you.”

  I peek through my lashes at a freshman who thinks meditation is a joke. He stares back at me like a thief caught in the act. Meditation isn’t a joke when a person utilizes it correctly. It can be productive to calm down and think before one acts. That’s why I teach it to these kids with the hot heads and raging hormones. I do all I can to get them to think first. But sometimes, it fails brilliantly.

  Calming down saved my life. Redwood saved my career. Almost forgot…

  “And exhale. Feel that prana, baby.”

  I smile at the young faces beaming
back at me. “Please remember, stranger danger is something we should always be aware, of no matter your age. If you see, hear, taste, feel, something wrong, report it. Peace out.”

  I hold up my hands and make two peace signs with my fingers, then hold them to my eyes like I’m playing peekaboo. Someone always laughs. My act never gets old. A gaggle of freshmen trails me back to the main campus from the amphitheater. Fuck the press—I’m not shutting Redwood down because of their insistence in exploiting a bad situation. I’ll just hire more security.

  “Jagan!” shouts a junior majoring in painting. “I feel my kundalini, baby.”

  “Channel your Picasso, baby.” I wave my arms like I’m trying to take off. He smiles and takes off like I just blessed him.

  The kid squeals with laughter and runs off to class. His canvases are pedestrian representation of lower-class angst, represented by a kid who’s never had a menial job. He’s an opportunist who will go far. His mother owns a chain of international galleries. I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about the four, my nickname for Chase, Silas, Dom, and Vicki.

  I pick up the pace toward my office. The gossip mill on campus is run by Silas, and the guy is smart about it. He uses it to keep people in check. I used to laugh when I read the misery column, and I turned a blind eye, but I can’t now. Things have spiraled out of control.

  “Rudi,” I wave once as I head into the admin office. Rudi’s eyes widen, and I know something is wrong. I can tell by the diameter if it’s minor or epic. I stop at the counter. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you were in your office,” she says, “You have an appointment with a student. She’s waiting.”

  “We started the class meetings at the amphitheater again today,” I explain sternly, “I shouldn’t have an appointment.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rudi starts around the counter toward my door, “I’ll reschedule her.”

  I shrug. “I can talk to her.”

  Rudi opens the door to my office and hurries in. I follow in behind her and instantly I know something is way off. The air is humid and clings to my face as soon as I walk in. I look up at the vent, wondering what happened to the central air. The window is open, and there’s no one in here.

  “Where’s the student?” I ask Rudi as she spins on her heels, looking in all directions.

  “I don’t know.” She looks at the open window. “Do you think she climbed out?”

  “That’s bizarre,” I reply, “But this is art school.”

  This is more than bizarre, but I don’t want to panic. Rudi lost it that night we found Marcy Bowen ass-deep under a ton of metal shelving. I deflected like crazy to shield Chase and Vicki from the authorities. I didn’t need that scandal on the internet.

  “I’ll shut it.” Rudi stops looking for the invisible student, and takes a step forward.

  I wave her off. “I can do it, Rudi. Do you know who the student was?” I freeze as I finish the sentence. This time my eyes turn into perfect circles before they narrow. My bottom desk drawer is open, and I always keep it locked. I approach it slowly, as if the inanimate object will leap up and run away if I move too fast.

  The wood along the top of the drawer is scratched; splinters of wood line deep gouges. The lock has been forced open, no doubt with a piece of thin metal. Rudi wanders over as I examine the lock and stands behind me. I pull the drawer open as far as it will go. I pull the hanging folders forward, and it’s gone. Marcy’s phone is gone.

  “Who was in my office?” I look up at Rudi, and her face is pale.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice trembles.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  She swallows hard. “I mean I don’t know her name.” Rudi looks around the room as if she can find the missing student hiding in the corner or behind the potted fig-leaf plant.

  Some days my patience is tested, and later, I don’t know how I didn’t snap. “Well, go look.”

  She looks at me for a second, reconsiders speaking, and hurries out of the room as fast as her feet will carry her away.

  I stare at the drawer again as if I can undo the damage and lock it again. Marcy is in a coma; even if she had come out of it, she wouldn’t have been able to do this without being noticed. Vicki and Chase know, but why would they want it? I rub my eyes hard with my fingers before I notice a piece of paper folded on my desk with my name on it. Before I can unfold it, Rudi comes rushing back into the room.

  Her eyes bulge as she stares at me. “We can’t find a name, Jagan.”

  “Why isn’t it in the computer? I always ask that appointments be logged into the computer.”

  Rudi winces. “She was a walk-in.”

  It’s not an excuse. But I can’t speak, or I’ll start shouting obscenities. Inhale deep breaths. And out. The energy I expand to keep from going ax-murderer crazy on these dimwits. Keeping that phone safe was crucial. Keeping it out of the wrong hands even more so.

  “What did the student look like?” I ask in an even tone.

  Her eye starts to twitch. “Young.”

  I lower my head and let out a low moan.

  “Sorry. Very young,” I look up and her speech accelerates. “Female, dark hair, shortish, in a hoodie.”

  “That’s a description of half the freshmen girls on campus.” I sit down heavily at my desk as if I’m stone. “Ask if anyone else saw her.”

  I pull the drawer out until it almost comes off its runners and search again, hoping against hope it’s still there. Nothing. I tug the files out of the drawer and search as they scatter across the floor. Who would take her phone? I reach for the note folded on my desk and open it.

  I have what you’re looking for. What you’re trying to hide. If you want to keep Redwood out of the news, you’ll have to do what I say. Check your phone.

  I grab my phone out of my pocket and as soon as I hold it up, a text flashes on the screen.

  Unknown: Ten minutes. Go to woods behind amphitheater.

  I spin around in my chair and stare out the window at the row of trees past the parking lot. There’s nothing out there, but I can feel someone watching me. I rub the chill off the back of my neck with my hand. That video is disturbing, and people will question why I didn’t contact the police. How I let that insane woman around kids. And, of course, it was horrific for Vicki Saunders. Her father will have my head mounted above his desk on a stake if I don’t get that video back. And as much as I may dread the circus of Hollywood media, Greg Saunders terrifies me.

  “Jagan,” Rudi stands in the doorway and won’t walk in any farther. “Someone saw her. They’re going through the student ID photos.”

  “Good.” I bend over and grab the papers off the ground and plop them on my desk. I get up and walk toward the door. Rudi scurries out of the way and out of reach. I walk behind the counter and put the note through the shredder.

  An admin looks over at me and points to the screen. “She looked like this but with darker hair.”

  I squint at the photo. “Talia Long.” Who the fuck? “Great job, everyone.” I start to clap my hands, and they follow along. “No worries, we found our missing student, and I’ll be back after I talk her down. Senior blues always happen this time of year. Uncertain of the future and just need someone to listen to their fears.”

  Rudi smiles. “Jagan, you do so much for the students.”

  I smile and give her a wave as I leave the room.

  I’m a grown man, and these are kids who think they can do a better job running the world. I’ll shut this cloak-and-dagger stuff down and set this little bitch’s head spinning. I look around me as I walk, checking out what could be around me. The woods around the school aren’t as private as most people think.

  “Over here, Jagan,”

  I look up as I descend the steps toward the amphitheater. There’s a young girl sitting on the edge of the stage, smoking a cigarette. She has a look on her face like she doesn’t give a shit. It’s my job to educate her as to why she should.


  “Hello, Talia.”

  She can’t conceal her surprise. Bonus for the admin who found her photo and her name. I sit down beside her and ignore the fact that she’s smoking on school property and should probably be in class. Not the problem right now.

  “You left my office without saying hello or goodbye?”

  She gives me a hard look like I’m a real asshole. I hate these kids sometimes. I’d strangle her, but I don’t want the bad karma.