Generations 2.7 kindle

by Folkman, Lori

  When Paul popped in to pay a visit—ahem, to check up on Ben and make sure he was heading off to la la land—Ben was watching a rerun of Happy Days. It may have been over-the-top, but oh well. It seemed to work. Paul raised his eyebrows at Ben, and even more so when Ben let out a hearty laugh.

  “You feelin’ better?” Paul asked. He sounded proud. Like any good stepfather would after giving his teenage stepson a sedative.

  “Awesome,” Ben said cheerfully. He even gave Paul a thumbs-up.

  “Good. Why don’t you turn the TV off and get some sleep.”

  “I would. But I can’t find the remote.”

  “You’re holding it, Ben.”

  “Oh … ha ha.” Ben didn’t stop with one chuckle. He let one chuckle roll into the next, escalating in volume.

  He hit the power button and tried to act clumsy as he leveled his pillows and prepared for bed. Not that any of this was hard. Anyone could act like an intoxicated moron. “Do you know where my phone is?” he asked. He knew his speech sounded slurred, so he knew he wasn’t going to get his phone. This was all part of the act.

  “I’ll keep your phone until morning,” Paul said.

  “But I need to call Katrina.”

  “You’re not going to call Katrina. Or anyone else tonight.”

  “But I want to get back together with her. I need to tell her I’m sorry.”

  Paul stepped forward and sat at the edge of the bed. “We’re not going to make any decisions like that tonight. Wait until we get home.”

  Ben acted put out. He said something about needing her … now. About being lonely. About missing her beautiful hair.

  All of this was fake. It was exactly what Paul would expect from an inebriated Ben, forlorn in love. Kat was actually the last thing on Ben’s mind. Tonight. Paul was all kind and fatherly-like as he pulled the covers up over Ben. Paul said something about this thing with Katrina working out eventually.

  “Yeah, I know it will. She’s totally hot for me,” Ben said, sounding sleepy. Even though he harbored unsavory feelings towards Kat, it still felt wrong to use her in this manner. But he didn’t know that he had a choice. He had to be convincing.

  Paul continued to sit at the edge of the bed, even though Ben let his eyes grow heavy, making the blinks last longer and longer. He really was tired—that wasn’t an act. And he never had a hard time falling asleep: the first time. His brain started to slow down. He could feel himself starting to drift ….

  “Good news, Ben,” Paul said out of nowhere. Ben opened his eyes and saw Paul still perched at the edge of the bed. “I found a solution to the Emmet situation. It’s going to be easier than I thought.”

  Ben wanted to ask questions. But luckily, a small part of his brain was awake enough to remind him to remain silent—to feign sedation. He gave a grunt in response.

  “So he’s going to be taken care of. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

  Ben had to fight his eyes from popping wide open. He didn’t know what that meant. But he knew what it sounded like. He forced himself to chuckle.

  “What’s funny?” Paul asked.

  “You. You sound like … like a Sicilian mob boss. ‘He’ll be taken care of.’” Ben gave his best mobster impersonation. It was over-the-top. It sounded nothing like what Paul had just sounded like. Ben laughed. “Is he going to end up in the East River?”

  Paul didn’t laugh. He patted Ben’s cheek. “Sleep well.” He left the room, leaving Ben wide awake, wondering if Paul had actually slipped a sedative to Ben somehow. Because he did feel a little loopy. He couldn’t have heard that right. Could he?

  Chapter Twenty-four ……

  Jackson felt like his status had changed this past week. He was no longer the leftover casserole that had been placed in the fridge, near the back. Practically forgotten about. He was now back at Kat’s side. Her crutch. Her mainstay. Like chocolate. It was his job to make her happy: to cheer her up. And he knew that a Saturday with nothing to do would be detrimental to Kat’s emotional health. She’d sit home and wallow all day … how could she think of anyone else but Ben when his face wallpapered her room?

  Sure, she tried to act tough. To act like being dumped by Ben wasn’t affecting her. But she wasn’t a good actor. She said all the words—the “I’m fine: really,” kind of lines—without any effect. Because her face didn’t match what she said. Her face was sad and sullen. Completely without brightness. Her smiles had entirely vanished. Which was a tragedy, really. Jackson needed those smiles. They helped him make it through the tough days. It seemed strange to see Katrina with her lips slack, especially since she’d been such the opposite lately. Ever since she’d met Ben. She’d smiled nonstop since that day back in January when Jack had let her talk him into taking her to the studio. He had wondered how she could smile like that continually. Didn’t it make her cheek muscles sore? Didn’t her skin get tight and wrinkly? But now he missed it. Incredibly. He wanted to be the one that could make her smile like that.

  So he made plans. He was taking Kat roller skating, even though she told him she would rather get her upper lip waxed than go to Dudley’s Roller Rink. Said she hated the place. She hadn’t even been there since she was twelve. How could she hate a place she hadn’t been to in over four years?

  While lacing up their skates in the locker area, Jack said, “Hey, I had my birthday party here once, remember?” She glared at him. Was there a PMS problem on top of the Ben problem? Yeesh. Moody. So he glared back.

  “It was your twelfth birthday, Jack.”

  Like that explained the glare … wait a sec. Twelfth birthday. Oh.

  He grabbed her hand and led her to the rink. He hid a smile. That’s why she didn’t want to come? Wow. He remembered the kiss—of course he did—but he’d forgotten all about the where and the when. Girls must be overly-sentimental. And she hated the place because of that memory. Great. Jackson gave himself a new mission: to give Kat a better memory of Dudley’s Roller Rink.

  Jackson let loose, letting the music and the youthful energy take over. It took a few times around the rink before Kat began to lighten up. Pretty soon, Jack would even venture to guess that she was having fun. She was smiling ever-so-slightly.

  Most of the kids at the rink were the pre-teen set. They were obnoxious and immature. Jack and Kat stooped to their level. They held hands and skated around the rink, hips shaking, disco fingers pointing. They only left the rink for the slow songs, which, luckily were very few. During one of these pathetic, lovey-dovey slow songs, they shared nachos and a Slurpee. It was just like old times. Back in the days before Ben.

  There was also another song that they sat out. They recognized the song within the first three beats, and without speaking—without even so much as a knowing glance—they left the rink. During this number one hit—some song that kind-of sounded like the word regurgitations—they took a bathroom break (separately, of course).

  Back on the rink, they went to great lengths to prove their immaturity. They competed in all the silly contests, like the limbo and freeze-frame. Kat bowed out of the limbo quite early, probably because she was wearing one of those little kilts. Typical school look, but not the best attire for the roller rink. But Jack stayed in, and thanks to the body type of a wet noodle, he won. He got to pick the next song as his prize. He surprised himself by picking a slow song. And even more surprising, he managed to coerce Kat into skating with him.

  The bear-hug with Katrina felt nice. Like they were twelve again and just learning about strange, unpredictable hormones. It was exhilarating. It felt nice to be able to touch again. To not worry about keeping things at a safe, sibling-like distance.

  Kat—the better skater—was the one who had to go backwards. But she seemed to be having a hard time giving her trust to Jackson. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes measuring distances between them and the other skaters.

  He confronted her on this. “I’m not going to let you crash. Just trust me to lead, okay?”

 
This wasn’t the typical carefree Kat. The Kat who normally would have gone full speed backwards, even without someone to guide her. He tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her slightly closer. He wanted her to feel safe. “I won’t do anything to hurt you, Kat,” he said, his voice somewhat soft.

  Had she lost all her trust in the male species by what Ben had done? Would she forever feel that she wasn’t enough, that she didn’t measure up? Jackson wanted to take all that away. He wanted her to know that she was the greatest thing since the invention of Grape Goober. And that most guys out there would be so thrilled to have her for a girlfriend that they wouldn’t even notice that other females walked the planet.

  Kat kept her eyes on him. Her face was curious … skeptical? But then her brow uncreased, her face softened. She smiled a content smile and gave his arm a squeeze, as if saying “Thank you.” Yeah, she understood. He didn’t have to spell it out.

  As the song came to an end, DJ Dudley’s voice interrupted. “Skaters, I need you to clear the center. I have a very special, very awesome surprise.”

  The skaters were obedient; the center of the rink was left open. The sound of skates clanking around the concrete without the accompanying music sounded eerie: foreboding. And it looked pointless too … like everyone was skating in circles, getting nowhere. Like hamsters on a wheel. It seemed like Dudley had left them hanging; he’d just teased them with the promise of something cool and then left the DJ booth to eat a slice of pizza.

  After what felt like a silent, boring hour, eight big guys in jeans and Tshirts walked onto the rink. They stopped the flow of traffic, creating a walkway from the food-court area to the center of the rink. Then DJ Dudley asked, “You ready to get wild?” His deep voice echoed in the rink, elevating the air of eagerness. The crowd cheered (‘cause why? All Dudley had said was some stupid cliché) and in response to the cheers, music started: it was “Take a Walk On The Wild Side,” minus the lyrics. What’s so very special, very awesome about this stupid old song? After a few measures, a guy with a microphone skated—almost clumsily—to the center of the rink. He began to sing and the crowd went, well wild.

  Kat inhaled so loudly that Jackson wondered if she was having a bout of asthma. She let go of Jackson’s hand simultaneously. Jack grumbled loudly, but he knew Kat couldn’t (or wouldn’t) hear him. She began to make her way through the crowd—which now looked more like a mob being held back by those eight large goons.

  “You have got to be kidding,” Jackson said out loud. “You have absolutely got to be Hefing me.”

  Ben was performing at Dudley’s Roller Rink. Jackson knew that this wasn’t a scheduled performance. It was for Kat. But it was still the amazing Ben Wilder in all his great stage-presence, performing for an astonished crowd. And the crowd was eating it up. They were clapping, cheering, screaming … and everyone was pushing to get closer. It was turning into a roller-derby.

  Jackson was the only one who left the rink. He stood at the entrance to the food court. He actually had a better view from there, although that’s not what he had wanted. He could see that Kat had made her way to the front. And he knew from the smile on Ben’s face that he had seen her too. Ben smiled this huge smile—like he’d just found a pot of gold. Although Jackson realized a pot of gold would make Jackson smile like that. Ben would probably just go, “Oh look, I just found this little bucket of change. Maybe I should buy another jewel for my crown.” So Ben’s smile was an I’ve-just-found-the-greatest-thing-since-Grape-Goober-smile. Great.

  The song was almost over—just one verse left. Ben skated toward Kat, reached out for her, and pulled her to him. He held her hand. He sang to her, his face intimately close to hers. Jackson was grateful that Kat’s back was facing him. He didn’t want to see the look on her face.

  When the song was over, the crowd cheered at a deafening volume. Jackson never knew 150 people—give or take twenty or so: he wasn’t really there to count heads—could be so loud. Or so excited.

  Ben waited for them to quiet down and then spoke into the microphone. But he wasn’t really speaking to the crowd. He seemed to be focused only on Kat. “There is something I need to know: Katrina Hayes, are you ready to take a walk on the wild side? Will you go to prom with me?”

  All kinds of screams and cheers came from the crowd. Things like “I’ll go! I’ll go with you Ben!” and “Ben, ask me! Ask me!”

  Jackson wanted to yell, but he didn’t. He just mumbled under his breath, “Crap no.”

  He was glad that Kat didn’t answer Ben. She looked frozen. Stupefied. Her head turned away from Ben and she looked at the crowd. Did she need help with her decision? Jack began chanting “No, no, no.”

  Ben’s voice echoed through the speakers again. “Well, Kat?”

  His tone was playful, encouraging. But Jack could see that Ben was sweating—well, not literally. But Jack could see the worry on Ben’s face. Oh, that’d rock. Humiliate him in front of all these people, Kat. Vengeance is yours.

  “Yes!” she yelled, nodding with enthusiasm.

  “What?” Ben said. “I don’t think we heard you.”

  This time, Ben held the mic to her mouth so the entire roller-rink could hear, even though everyone had heard it the first time. For Khan’s sake, Jack had heard it and he was farthest away. Who really needed to hear it again—that narcissistic Ben? She answered again and the crowd whistled and cheered—even the people who had been trying to coerce Ben to go to their prom.

  Ben wound his arms around Kat and held her tightly. It was hard to hear DJ Dudley over the crowd, but Jackson caught the words “slow and romantic,” and then music started playing. It was Ben’s big hit “Far Away” from his last album. Jackson wanted to become bulimic. He left the rink.

  The food court was empty. He bought a giant licorice and swallowed it in a few slurps. He probably had sticky red all over his mouth, but he didn’t care. That look worked for Edward Cullen—it might just work for Jack. He skated to the trash can and just as he dropped in his garbage, someone grabbed him. Pinched his tush, actually. He jumped and spun around.

  Babe. Holy babe. Probably somebody’s mother, but still a babe. “Hey there,” she said. She even winked.

  “Ah, hey,” Jackson mumbled.

  “Wanna skate?” she asked.

  “Ah, no.” He had to be honest. Slow dance—to Ben’s corny song—with some bodacious stranger who had to be at least thirty? No, no and no again.

  “Come on,” she grabbed him again—on the arm this time—and began to pull him toward the rink, “you need this.”

  “Um, kay.” What else could he do? Her arms were buffer than his. And she looked like she might be prone to violence. Or maybe the barbed wire tattoo around her arm was deceptive.

  They hit the rink with excessive speed, especially for a slow song. She had Jackson facing backwards, steering him through the crowd. She was like Jeff Gordon, weaving in and out of a cluster of race cars. Jackson actually had to stop looking over his shoulder; she was going so fast that he was getting dizzy. So he looked at her. Who the Vlad was she?

  She had hair extensions. Platinum blonde. They were almost realistic: but too long, clear down her back. That was the first thing he noticed about her—all that pale, straw-looking hair. The second (and third) things he noticed … well, ya know. She had a killer bod. Jackson had to remind himself to look at her face. She wore lots and lots of make-up. She was trying to hide zits of years past. But she had pretty eyes: bright blue and rimmed with dark make-up. Really, she was way attractive—faux suede style. But she was thirty, Jackson was sure of it. Cougar. Jackson’s heart skipped. Yikes. Why had she set her sights on him?

  She answered his question without even hearing it.

  “I saw you with her.”

  Jackson was a little confused. “With who?”

  “Her,” the lady motioned in the direction of Ben and Kat.

  Ben and Kat were still near the center of the rink. They were skating in a tight embrace. And technically
, they weren’t really skating. They were barely moving. Shouldn’t Kat be embarrassed? Holy PDA.

  The lady continued, “Katrina Hayes. You were here with her.”

  “I am here with her,” Jack corrected.

  “Doesn’t look like you are. Not anymore.” The lady gestured back to the center. She was eyeing up Ben … almost like he was the opposing team.

  “What’s it matter to you?” Jack challenged.

  She shrugged. “Just looking for a way to help my fellow man.”

  Jack laughed. “You here on charity work?”

  Again, she shrugged. “Not really. I own the place. With Dudley—my husband. And I like to make sure all our patrons are having a good time. So if I see a need, I do my best to fill it.”

  “And what,” his voice cracked. Seriously embarrassing. “What need do you think I have?” A thought occurred to him belatedly. Was this a prostitution sting? Was he under surveillance? His mind screamed at his feet, telling them to skate away. Fast!

  “You need to get your girl back. You need to show her that you’ve got more to offer.”

  “Ah, we’re not … she’s not my girl. We’re just friends.”

  “Mmhmm,” she said. She sounded like Queen Latifa. Then she grabbed his butt again. “So you don’t want to show her what a man you are?”

  Jack moved her hand. “Stop,” he said, his voice firm and commanding. “You’re scaring the crap out of me.”

  She laughed a laugh that came deep from within her chest. It sounded like she hadn’t had a good laugh in over a decade. Maybe since she was in high-school. “Coming on too strong? You must be more boy than you look.”

  He glared. He didn’t need to get assaulted and insulted. All while listening to cheesy “Far Away.”

  “I’m not that kind of guy,” Jack said staunchly.

  “Hmm,” she said. She steered him around a crowd of people and backed him up against a wall in the darkest corner. Hey, hadn’t this been that same dark corner he and Kat had found four years ago?

  “Your friend,” she said with derision, “knows that you are not that kind of guy—or any kind of guy for that matter. Do you want to be her girlfriend forever? Or do you want to show her that you have balls?”