by K. Ryan
Maybe she hadn't worded it exactly like that, but the resentment lingered in her eyes, was written across her face—hell, even her cold, detached body language told me everything I needed to know.
Five years.
Five years I'd given her. Sure, we'd even been on and off for a little while too, but I never thought I'd have to actually contemplate a life without her. I'd always known she was unhappy in Claremont, how suffocated she'd felt in this small town, but just had never known what to do about it. Instead of dealing with something so heavy, I'd just assumed I would be enough for her to stay.
What a mistake that was.
Despite the crippling dread, I knew I had to swallow my pride.
I wasn't throwing in the towel yet. This could be saved. This could be stopped. I just needed to keep reminding her what she would be leaving behind and pray she would ultimately make the right decision for both of us.
My fingers flew over the keys in a quick response: Sure, babe. I'll call ya when I'm done. Love u.
I quickly turned my phone off and slid it back into my pocket. I didn't need to add to my self-inflicted suffering by waiting to see how she responded—to see if she told me she loved me back.
Right about now, I wasn't so sure she actually did.
"Hey, Caleb?"
Ordinarily, I'd probably sigh at the sound of my mom's voice and dread whatever one-sided argument was about to start. Lately, the only reason she wanted to talk to me was to tell me to stop being such a pussy-whipped baby about Ariel and just let her go already.
My mom hadn't hidden her general distaste for my old lady pretty much from day one and that shit had gotten old fast. But now, today, her voice was a welcome respite from the voices in my head.
"Yeah, Ma?" I called back over my shoulder.
"Can I talk to you in the office for a second?"
Great.
What now?
The woman wouldn't let up until she got what she wanted, so I nodded over my shoulder and grabbed a towel to wipe the grime from my hands. As I turned on my heel to head towards the office, a flash of shiny blonde hair and long, tanned legs caught my eye. The figure was walking towards a black, vintage Trans Am and just as my head turned away from the girl in the parking lot, my eyes slammed right back to her.
Holy shit—was that? It couldn't be.
The girl turned to open the car door, giving me an eyeful of her face to confirm my suspicions. What the hell was Isabelle Martin doing at the shop? And where did she get that kick-ass classic beauty of a car?
Even from a distance, she looked good. Real good. Her hair was a little shorter than I remembered, a little curlier too, but it fit her. Made her look older, more mature.
Visions of seeing her bounce around the halls in that tiny cheerleading skirt danced in my head and she clearly hadn't lost the body she'd somehow squeezed into that sorry excuse for a skirt. That same skirt also got me punched in the head after I'd watched Isabelle doing some high kicks a little too closely at the one pep rally Ariel managed to drag me to. I gotta say...facing down Ariel's wrath was worth it just for the memory alone.
As a senior in high school, I'd yet to learn that for Ariel, just even looking at another girl constituted cheating. It sure as shit wasn't fair because even by that point, I'd made my commitment pretty clear. Isabelle Martin was just pretty hallway decoration as far as I was concerned, but my old lady didn't exactly see it that way.
Still, I didn't really learn that lesson until after a few action-packed nights at the clubhouse after finally patching in as a Horseman. It had taken an all-girl all-out smackdown to do it, and while seeing Ariel rolling around on the floor with another girl was probably the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life, when the dust settled, I'd gotten the message loud and clear.
Not that it really mattered much where Isabelle was concerned. We hadn't exactly run in the same circles and hell if I could count on one hand the number of classes I even remembered having with her in high school.
One class, in particular, stood out. I'm pretty sure—okay, 100 percent sure—I'd relied heavily on her intellect to get through the American Lit final and you know you're pretty stupid when the teacher pity-seats you next to the smartest person in the room.
Honestly? I'd rather walk through hell covered in gasoline, roll around in a whole nest of fire ants, and eat an entire urinal cake than read poetry again.
But Isabelle just ate it up. First one to raise her hand. Last one to turn in her essays because she was too busy poring over every word. Me? I sparknoted that shit and bullshited my way through the rest.
It was funny—I'd all but forgotten that we'd sat next to each other every day during our last semester of high school, but her sudden appearance in the shop's parking lot brought the memories right along with it.
The flashbacks were hazy, but from what I did remember, we'd engaged in some pretty entertaining banter from time to time as she'd rolled her eyes or scoffed at my antics in class. All I had to do was mention her cheerleader skirt and her feathers ruffled up before I even finished the sentence.
It almost made me wish I'd taken the time to get to know her sooner than just during our last semester of school.
Now, I figured we wouldn't have a whole lot to say to each other. I didn't really know anything about her, save for our time together as table partners, and couldn't say that I ever really had. What I did know about her...I just wished it was something other than the fact that her mom died about six months ago from lung cancer.
I'd never really known Katherine Martin either, but whenever we ran into each other in town—which wasn't often—she'd always been so friendly, so talkative, so warm, which was a nice change of pace from the way some of Claremont's residents tended to treat club members, like her husband, for instance.
My mom passed around a sympathy card for the family and I'd signed it out of respect. She also sent some flowers with the card, courtesy of the Horsemen and the shop, and everything was probably just thrown into a pile with all the other condolences from people who had no idea what Isabelle's family was really going through.
My mom and I, on the other hand, knew a little something about that kind of loss. If we'd ever actually been friends, I might've tried to contact her somehow, for all the good it would do, but instead, my sympathies went unspoken and therefore, unnoticed.
And now here she was in the shop's parking lot.
Wasn't she supposed to be in law school or something like that?
"Caleb."
My mom's voice jerked me right out of my thoughts and kick-started me back into action. The last thing I needed right now was for her to realize what, or rather who, I'd been looking at. Closing the door behind me, I found her waiting impatiently behind her desk and tapping her nails on a file folder spread out in front of her.
"What's up, Ma?"
She just shrugged. "I just hired Isabelle Martin to help me out in the office."
When she just cocked an amused eyebrow my way, I knew there was a pretty good chance I wasn't actually being punked right now. Well, at least that explained what she was doing here, even if that explanation left a shitload of other questions in its wake.
"Okay."
"You know I've been wanting some help around here. Frees me up to do some other things, anyways. So I hired her. Not gonna pass up an opportunity to hire someone here who could've gone to law school."
I could see her point and just lifted a shoulder. "Alright, so what did you wanna talk to me for?"
"Well," my mom leveled a hard stare my way. "Seeing as how you two went to school together, I just wanted to make sure there wasn't any history I needed to know about."
She sure didn't waste any time. I wasn't sure who I was more disgusted with—my mom or myself.
"I never messed around with her," I informed her, shaking my head. "That's what you wanted to know, right?"
She held her hands up in defense. "Sorry, I had to ask. She's a good girl, smart too, and it would re
ally be a shame if it didn't work out just because you couldn't keep it in your pants back then. I'd like to keep her around for awhile, ya know?"
"Yeah, I guess, Ma."
My mom's mouth crinkled up in amusement. "Didn't she used to be a cheerleader?"
I nodded, tugging a hand through my overly-long, tangled hair. Jesus, I really needed to start giving more of a shit.
"Yeah, I mean, a smart cheerleader is kind of an oxymoron, right? Kinda weird she'd end up workin' here of all places."
"I think she has her reasons. Can't imagine what she must be going through right now. She said somethin' about her dad wanting to kick her out if she didn't have a job and I heard he's been hittin' the bottle pretty hard too. Bet he didn't take his little princess not following in his footsteps too well either."
"So she quit school?"
"That's what she said."
"Shit," I exhaled.
She nodded the same sentiment. "Yeah, shit is right. Hey, did she ever come to the clubhouse when you kids were in school? I don't remember ever seeing her around."
"Uh, well," I bit back a smile. "I just saw her there once. That was it."
I didn't see the need to elaborate that I'd found Isabelle puking her guts out in a dark corner outside the clubhouse right before graduation four years ago. The one time her and her friend Becca had managed to sneak in they both overdid it with a few too many tequila shots and I was still willing to bet that was the first time Isabelle had ever really drank like that, at least up until then.
Stepping outside for a quick cigarette had afforded me the best surprise of my life, so much that I'd nearly shit myself when I found her crouched down in the darkness and moaning in agony.
Watching Claremont High's reigning cheerleader princess brought down a few notches wasn't a sight I was going to pass up. Not to mention that I'd gotten a healthy eyeful of her cleavage, too.
Always a bonus.
And it had been funny right up until she threw up all over my brand new Nikes.
But instead of getting pissed, I did the gentlemanly thing and held back her hair as she emptied the rest of her stomach onto the grass. Then I helped her back inside the clubhouse to find Becca and stood outside with them as we waited for Isabelle's jackass boyfriend to pick them up and that had been that.
Even now, how many years later, I still wasn't entirely sure why I didn't just walked away from her after her epic display. Maybe it was the humiliation in her voice as she apologized or the way she'd looked up at me with wide, mortified eyes, but I just hadn't been able to leave her out there like that.
And despite the high I got from teasing her, I never mentioned a word about it to her the following Monday or any other day, for that matter. I still don't really know why I did that.
"Huh," she huffed a little at my lack of disclosure, obviously sensing there was more to the story, but she wasn't going to hear it from me.
"I guess the clubhouse wasn't exactly her scene," I offered with a shrug.
"Yeah, I guess not. Well, don't give her too hard a time, alright? Be nice."
"What makes you think I won't be nice?" I frowned.
The least she could do was pretend she didn't think I was a total and pathetic pile of garbage.
"I don't know. You've been more than a little moody lately," her eyes widened when I narrowed my own right back at her. "Well, Caleb, you know what I mean and you know it's true. Just don't take your shit out on the new girl."
"Alright, alright," I conceded, wanting to sidestep any mention of Ariel as much as possible. I didn't need another lecture about how selfish she was being or how it was time to finally move on with my life. "You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not a complete asshole, a'ight?"
"Just figured I'd throw it out there," she replied with a shrug that was a little too easy for her, given that she was also my mother.
"Wow," I put my hand over my heart to fake some pain. "Thanks, Ma."
She just grinned and leaned forward to peck me on the cheek. "You know I still love ya."
"Yeah. Right."
"Get back to work. Hey, you gonna be by the house later for dinner?"
And here I'd almost made it out the door. So close yet so far. "Uh, probably not. I'm gonna see Ariel when I get off."
My mom's face slipped into an icy, hard mask and I shook out a shutter.
"Really, Caleb? After all that drama last night, you're just gonna go running back to that girl like some kind of pussy-whipped puppy?"
There were more than a few things about what she'd just said that tasted really bitter. Referring to Ariel as that girl for starters. Calling me a pussy-whipped puppy didn't really help either.
One of us needed to be the adult in this relationship. Since it looked like it wasn't going to be my mom, I just shrugged my shoulders and headed out the door to get back to work.
CHAPTER THREE
Impasse
Isabelle
I pulled into the coffee shop's parking lot with a heavy sigh, parking the Trans Am right next to Becca's car. How I'd managed to go toe-to-toe with Skyler Sawyer without running away and screaming my head off was the miracle of miracles.
That woman was nothing short of terrifying with her regal posture, heavy makeup, and spiky high heels. Of course the fact that she just oozed influence and power had done nothing for my nerves.
Yeah, a little caffeine and some food was exactly what I needed right now to settle down.
At least I could take comfort in the fact that our meeting went better than I could've hoped for. I got the job and that was all that mattered.
Becca was already sitting at our usual table with a coffee mug and a cookie when I walked in and she waved me over with a bright smile. "Belle! Get over here and tell me everything!"
I grinned at my long-time friend as I dropped into the chair across from her, grateful to still have this connection. We'd been best friends since sharing crayons and a Disney princess coloring book in kindergarten. Since then, we'd shared just about everything with each other, from trading lunches and friendship bracelets in middle school, to trading worries about boys, homework, and bitchy girls in high school.
Although we'd more or less gone our separate ways after graduation, me to following in my family's footsteps at Duke and Becca to the local beauty school here in Claremont, we'd never lost touch and six months ago, I'd needed my best friend in a way neither of us ever anticipated. And now, with the ashes of that tragedy still glowing bright, I found myself leaning on my best friend for the support I wasn't getting from the only living family member I had left.
"I told you Skyler would hire you," Becca stated matter-of-factly before taking a sip of her latte.
"Well," I shot back quickly. "It wasn't exactly a slam dunk either. It's not like I have the best track record in terms of employment as of late."
Becca just waved a hand in dismissal. "Who cares? You have a new, better job now and you don't have to worry about anything anymore."
Yeah, like worrying about getting kicked out for smashing my dad's already broken heart.
At this point, he was in such bad shape I figured he was just looking for a reason to implode altogether and there was no point in handing him the detonator myself.
"I start tomorrow and everything. I just can't believe she went for it. For a second there, I thought she was about to scratch out my eyes or something."
Becca just smirked with an easy shrug. "Yeah, that's just how she is. She must've liked you enough to hire you on the spot. But you never can tell though. Just be glad your name isn't Ariel. Then she'd really hate you."
"You know," I tilted my head to the side in thought as I spoke. "I gotta say I'm kinda surprised those two are still together."
"What do you mean? They've always been pretty hot and heavy."
"I don't know," I just shrugged. "I guess Ariel never seemed like the type who'd want to stay here her whole life."
"I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who would come
back, so there's that."
I lifted a shoulder and took a sip from my cup. "People change. Circumstances change."
"Yeah, well, she probably won't be sticking around for too much longer anyways, so I guess that's a moot point. And let me tell you, the after-shocks of that are not gonna be pretty."
The big, glaringly obvious change in my best friend was her involvement with the Horsemen. Well, more like partying with the Horsemen. And I could only guess that since Becca was currently sleeping with one of the new patches, the inner-workings of an organization neither of us had cared too much about when we were younger was probably the biggest, if not only, excitement in Becca's life.
"Just prepare yourself. That's all I'm sayin'," she went on, clearly enjoying the gossip. "Caleb is gonna be a trainwreck after she moves to California."
"So it's a done deal, then? I thought he was still trying to talk her out of it?"
"I heard they've been fighting a lot and Ariel isn't budging. Besides, she's supposed to leave in, like, a week, so I don't think there's a whole lot left he can do."
"We really shouldn't be talking about this," I shook my head again. "You know it isn't really any of our business, right?"
"You know I've always been a sucker for some good gossip. It's not like I ever get anything good from you, so I gotta get my kicks somewhere else. Speaking of which, the clubhouse is throwing a party again on Friday. You should come, being a new employee and all," Becca winked conspiratorially.
"Oh, no," I rolled my eyes with a groan. "And watch you hump what's-his-name the whole night? No thanks."
"Come on," Becca pouted. "I've been trying to get you to come for weeks. Skyler said I could bring a friend anytime, so it wouldn't be a big deal or anything."
"I don't think I would be very comfortable there. It'd be hard to let loose, you know? Especially since I'm going to be working there now. The last thing I want to do is go there, start drinking because I'm so nervous, and throw up all over the bar...or someone's shoes again."
