Sweet tb-2

by Erin McCarthy

  So the bus.

  Yeah, not such a brilliant idea when you’re dragging two very large hot-pink suitcases with you and you’ve never ridden public transportation in your whole life.

  A crusty old man drooled as he mumbled and gestured to me repeatedly. I slunk down in my seat, suitcases wedged against the window next to me because I couldn’t understand anything he was saying, and I totally didn’t want to understand. Two teenage boys with their jeans down around their thighs kept shoving each other and laughing as they made blow-job gestures in my direction. I ignored them. If I knew them, I would have told them off, but I figured it was possible they had guns in those insanely outdated and slouchy pants, or at the very least they wouldn’t hesitate to harass me. The bus smelled disgusting, and the air-conditioning blasting only served to float the odor around. As I compulsively checked my phone for the bus route map, I kept checking the street signs every time we turned, afraid I was going to miss my stop.

  I had texted Riley to let him know I was showing up around six, and he had responded with, “Yippee.” The feeling was mutual.

  By my estimates, it was only a thirty-minute bus ride to the nearest intersection to Tyler and Riley’s house. The bus chart had arrival as 6:03, and I kept glancing at the time, wishing I hadn’t worn flip-flops and shorts. I felt like bus crud was rubbing on me from the seat and floor. My heels and calves felt vulnerable.

  “Hey, blond girl,” one of the teenage boys said, moving from the back of the bus to drop down in the seat behind me.

  That was probably me he was referring to.

  Glancing at him, I said, “Hey,” and went back to my phone. I didn’t want to have a conversation with him, but I knew if I totally ignored him he would be calling me a stuck-up bitch. Sometimes there really wasn’t a way to win as a girl.

  “Where you goin’? This don’t look like your neighborhood.”

  “I’m moving in with my boyfriend,” I told him, flatly. Let him think I had a big old gangbanging, drug-dealing badass of a boyfriend.

  His eyebrows shot up, and he looked like he didn’t believe me. He was about fifteen, and he was more attitude than anything else, since he probably weighed less than me. I could see his ribs through his basketball jersey. “Your boyfriend lives here?”

  I didn’t answer because I realized the bus driver wasn’t slowing down, and the street that was supposed to be my stop was just a few feet ahead. “Isn’t he going to stop here?” I said, freaking out, starting to sit up and slip my purse over my head like a cross-body bag. It was too short to do that, and it cut into my armpit, but I needed both hands for the luggage. And maybe to tackle the driver if he didn’t stop, because my little social experiment was over. I didn’t want to be on this bus anymore. My armpits were sweating even though it was freezing from the air-conditioning because I was a little stressed, I had to admit.

  The kid looked at me like I was a complete moron. “If you want to get off, you have to pull.” He reached over and yanked on a laundry line–type cord above the windows and I immediately heard a ding.

  “Oh.” Duh. Guess the driver wasn’t psychic. “Thanks.” The bus started to slow down, so I started to tug my bags into the aisle, regretting the “Stop following me. Follow Jesus.” sticker Kylie had bought for me as a joke and slapped on the front of my suitcase.

  For some reason, I expected the kid to offer to help, since he was so clearly interested in flirting with me. But he actually slipped around my bag like it was a nothing more than an obstacle, even as it fell sideways into the opposite seat. His friend followed him. The bus stopped, and I stumbled forward as I managed to haul both bags down the aisle, yelling, “I’m getting off at this stop!” to the bus driver in case he didn’t glance back.

  He glared at me in his large rearview mirror, obviously impatient with how long it was taking for me to exit.

  “Thanks,” I said, breathless, basically falling down the stairs in an avalanche of hair and luggage. Once on the curb, I readjusted so I could pull each bag with one hand and tried to ignore the fact that the two teenagers were just standing there on the corner, looking in no particular hurry to go anywhere, belts barely holding up their pants, arms already sporting a couple of tattoos. It was hot on the sidewalk, the air a humid mix of gas fumes from the bus and a chicken restaurant. The back of my neck got damp as I started walking.

  Immediately, I knew the boys were following me. So I paused and pulled out my phone, confirming the direction I was going in. Then I took a gamble and called Riley, propping the phone on my shoulder so I could keep walking. I didn’t think he would answer, because I didn’t know any guy who answered his phone, but I was starting to get weirded out. The neighborhood was what I had expected, and while it didn’t seem anything other than a little tired and lower income, I felt very obvious as an outsider. There were empty shops, a dingy restaurant, a tattoo parlor, a Check ’n Go kiosk, and potholes the size of a Volkswagen Beetle in the road. On the side street I turned down, the houses were close together, small, some of them run down. If anyone had grass, it was burned out, brown and dusty, or it was a breeding ground for pricker weeds. Some were as high as my knees as I trudged down the sidewalk, my purse bumping my breast with each step.

  Riley actually answered. “Hello.”

  “Hey! It’s Jessica. Um, I’m almost at your house. I, uh, took the bus, and I’m on your street and well . . .”

  I could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “You took the bus?”

  “Yeah. And I think these dudes are following me,” I murmured in as low of a voice as possible.

  “What? Shit.” There was rustling. “Keep walking. I’ll come get you.”

  “’K.” I dropped the phone on the sidewalk when I tried to end the call with my finger still hooked around the suitcase handle. Bending down to retrieve it, I looked back at the guys.

  One had a baseball hat on sideways, and now that they were off the bus they had both stripped off their T-shirts in the heat. One was tanned, the other glowing so starkly white, utterly hairless, and blinking against the sun, he looked like a baby mole. Now that I knew Riley was just a minute or two away, I felt more irritated than scared.

  “Why didn’t your man pick you up?” the one with the hat asked.

  I stood up, spotting a car coming up the street. “He is.” Relieved, I saw it was Riley as he pulled up and put the car in park.

  Leaving it running, he opened the door and got out. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, and I shook my head to try to get my sweaty hair out of my eyes, wishing I could fully appreciate his chest. But I was more concerned with getting in the car and away from Beavis and Butt-Head. I was already dragging my bag off the curb when Riley stepped up, barely giving me a nod before grabbing the other one.

  “Wassup,” he said casually to the guys, but I could see his shoulders were stiff as he rolled the suitcase behind him and made a point of turning his back on them. They didn’t look like any particular threat to Riley, given he was twice their width, and I felt better.

  “Your bitch is fine,” the scrawny one said.

  Gee. Now my life was complete. They thought I was attractive. I rolled my eyes as I opened the back door of Riley’s car and shoved my suitcase in.

  “Thanks,” was all Riley said. I realized he was gesturing with his left hand for me to go around and get in the car, so I did. He loaded my other bag in the backseat.

  Then he stood and spoke to them in a very casual, friendly tone. “If you ever see her walking in the neighborhood again, you cross to the other side of the street, do you understand me? You don’t look at her, you don’t talk to her. Stay at least fifteen feet away from her, or I will fuck your shit up, no questions asked.”

  “Hey, we don’t want no trouble,” one of them said, holding up his hands and looking alarmed.

  I almost felt bad for them. Almost. But the truth was, their intention had been to harass me, and that was bullshit. A woman should be able to walk on the side
walk without taking crap.

  “Good.” Climbing back in, Riley turned the car around in the nearest driveway, while I yanked my purse off and stuck my right arm out the window to air out.

  Lifting my hair off my neck, I twisted it into a knot and tucked it through so it would stay up for at least the drive to the house. “Holy shit, it’s hot out here. Thanks for picking me up.”

  “Why the hell were you riding the bus?” Riley glanced over at me, and he was shaking his head in disbelief, amused. “Do you know who rides the bus?”

  “Teenage boys and old men who smell like pee?”

  “Exactly.” He gave me a small laugh. “Welcome to paradise, Jessica.”

  “It wasn’t awful,” I told him, which was true. It had been more unnerving than really horrific. Especially now that I was in his car and in zero danger, the bus didn’t seem that bad at all in hindsight. In fact, I felt a little triumphant that I had managed it on my own. Well, almost my own. I suppose without Riley it might have had a more irritating outcome, but I didn’t think those guys were actually dangerous. Then again, Kylie always told me I downplayed trouble, and I suppose that was true. After all, I was moving into Riley’s house in a sketchy neighborhood when I was supposed to be off building new houses for the financially needy. That was borrowing trouble with my parents, no doubt, if they ever found out.

  Though as we pulled into Riley’s drive, I thought probably the Mann boys qualified for the title of financially needy themselves. It was, to be totally honest, a shithole, a house that no one had cared about in a long time. Exactly what I was expecting, but as the bungalow sagged in the heat, it was undeniable.

  “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” he said.

  “Are you complimenting me?” And why did that stupidly please me? That wasn’t exactly a glowing report. But then again, I did pride myself on being strong, so that he thought it couldn’t help but make me happy.

  “If I am, don’t worry, it’s backhanded,” he assured me as he parked the car. “Now why do you look like you packed to study in Europe for a year? I thought you’re here for only a week.”

  How to explain without lying? I only wanted to keep some of the information from him, not be totally dishonest. But I didn’t want him to know I was lying to my parents. “This is all my stuff from my dorm room. Well, a lot of it. Kylie took some of it home for me, but I couldn’t ask her to drag all of it. It wouldn’t fit in Mark’s car.”

  “Who is Mark?”

  That was what he pulled out of that paragraph? Yay. That was an easy question to answer. “He’s a guy Kylie and I went to high school with who has a car on campus. He usually gives us a ride if our parents don’t pick us up.” Then I was immediately sorry I’d mentioned parents. I didn’t want Riley to ask me about mine.

  But he seemed to lose interest in the conversation in general, stepping out of the car, giving me a great view of his perfect ass in jeans that fit the way they should on a guy, not too loose, not too tight. They were riding just slightly past his hips, his back muscles clearly outlined as he twisted. Head thunk. What was I doing? I was supposed to ignore his hotness. It was a mental pact I’d made with myself over the last two days as I had packed up my room. It was the only way I could justify staying with Riley, to swear totally and on my favorite pair of Guess jeans that I would not pay attention to anything about him other than to note how annoying he was.

  I opened the back door to grab the second suitcase, but he was already dragging it across the seat.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No problem.” He studied the sticker on it and fought a smile. “So were your little friends on the bus with you?”

  “Yes. I think they were following me.”

  “Oh, most definitely. You stick out like a pink thumb.”

  “Ha ha. You don’t think they were dangerous, do you?” Unless I was mistaken as to how to conceal a weapon, I hadn’t seen anything on those two. Then again, their jeans had been like garbage bags, so what did I know?

  “Not to me. To you? Maybe. You were smart to call me.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I reached for a suitcase to roll it up the driveway, but he waved me off and got both.

  “Your sarcasm is annoying,” he told me.

  “Why? Because it reminds you of yourself?” I tossed at him, walking over the gravel and up the crumbling steps behind him. For a second, I almost questioned their structural soundness, but then I realized that would be rude.

  “That’s entirely possible,” he admitted.

  The door wasn’t locked. He shoved it open and swept his arm out for me to enter. “Mi shitty casa es su shitty casa.”

  “You need a doormat with that on it,” I told him, brushing by him, determined not to look at his chest, or his eyes, both of which were way more dangerous to my health than the dudes on the bus. My arm touched his pec despite my best efforts, and his skin was warm.

  “If we had a doormat it would get stolen,” he said.

  I stepped into the stifling heat of the living room. There was no air-conditioning. Craptastic. It smelled like old cigarettes and boy. Sometimes I could tolerate boy but the cigarettes I couldn’t. Wrinkling my nose, I moved forward, peering into a small kitchen while trying to look like I wasn’t checking it out.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  I glanced back to see him watching me carefully, my suitcases standing at attention on either side of him.

  No, I wasn’t sure.

  “Rory doesn’t mind it here, but Rory is in love with Tyler. For some bizarre reason, people are willing to put up with a lot of shit when they’re in love. I know this place is a dump, so there is still time for you to bail.”

  It was tempting. The carpet was dirty brown, stained with years of street dirt and mud and who knew what else. The couch had a sag to each cushion, and it might have been a faded red plaid, but it was hard to say exactly. The oak coffee table was covered with video game boxes and an ashtray loaded with butts. There were no curtains, just a sheet that had been hung with thumbtacks. I wanted to bail, I’m not going to lie. But it was just too rude. If I had absorbed anything positive from my childhood, it was manners that popped up when I least expected them. “No, it’s fine. I appreciate you putting up with this arrangement since it was Tyler’s idea and you and I are not exactly best friends.”

  He shrugged. “No big deal. There is plenty of room with the boys gone.”

  “Well, thank you.” That was about as gushing as I was going to get about it, so I hoped he heard my sincerity.

  “You’re welcome.”

  However, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Can I open a window? I have asthma, and the smoke bothers me.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth. At all. But I was going to be coughing in another ten minutes if I didn’t get some fresh air.

  Riley gave me an incredulous look. “You don’t have asthma. You’re just saying that because you think it stinks in here.”

  Bingo. “What? Of course I do. Why would I lie about having asthma? And how do you know if I have it or not?” Maybe that was defending myself too passionately. I shut my mouth, cheeks just a little hot that he had busted me in my lie.

  “I know because I’ve seen you outside in the middle of winter, I’ve seen you dance all night at a club, and I’ve seen you talk enough to make your teeth ache, but I’ve never once seen you use an inhaler. And you’ve never mentioned it before, and Tyler and Nathan smoke in the apartment all the time.”

  Damn it. Why couldn’t he be an idiot? It would be much easier to manipulate him that way. “Fine, you’re right. But I am sensitive to the smoke. Besides, opening the window will let some of the heat out.”

  “It lets heat in.”

  “No, it doesn’t. How does that even make sense?” I sat on the couch and my ass almost hit the floor I sank so deep. It was like being bear-hugged by a marshmallow.

  “How many houses without AC have you lived in?”

  What could I say to t
hat? “None. But that doesn’t change the fact that your logic is illogical.”

  “That’s an absurd statement. And it’s true. You keep the windows closed and covered during the day, open them to the breeze at night.”

  “So what time can I open them? Is there like a set time? Or do they just automatically fly open at sunset?” I coughed, which was actually an accident. The smoke haze really was getting to me. Or maybe I just needed a drink of water, but either way, it was bad timing.

  Riley gave a snort of laughter. “Oh, princess, you won’t win any Oscars, but I give you points for trying. Look, I think we need some house rules.”

  “Oh, goodie.”

  “Let’s go sit outside for a minute and we can discuss it.”

  Why did I feel so suspicious? I eyed him. “Why?”

  “Because it doesn’t stink out there. Well, not like smoke anyway.”

  “Are you being thoughtful?” I asked, teasing, but kind of touched.

  “Yeah, I suppose I am, so you better enjoy it while you can.”

  Then again, I wasn’t sure how thoughtful it really was when he reached for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and grabbed them.

  Maybe a house rule could be that he had to wear a shirt, because his bare skin was messing with my head. And my hormones. He had the same tattoo as Tyler, the words TRUE FAMILY on his bicep in a tribal script. Rory had told me TRUE were the guys’ initials, meant to signify their solidarity. How they were always there for each other, despite the fact that their father was in prison, and before she had died, their mother had been a negligent parent and drug abuser.

  What would it be like to have a brother like that, instead of the self-serving, backstabbing one I had gotten? What would it be like to have Riley Mann loyal to you? A shiver ran through me despite the heat, and I focused on his other tattoos, the screaming skull that marched down his flank and the weird thing on his chest that may or may not have been a winged werewolf.