“It’s okay.”
I groan at the way she stares at my lips.
“I like it.”
“Yo, cuz.” Damian drops down in the seat across from me, drawing the attention of everyone at the table and breaking the spell between me and Mercy. When he realizes everyone’s staring at him, he smiles at them then turns back to me. “You got a minute?”
I’m sure he’s going to tell me about Carrie, which I don’t give a rat’s ass about, so I’m not walking away from these few minutes I have with Mercy to waste on that. “Sure, what’s up?”
His gaze slides to Mercy, who seems just as uninterested in why he’s here as I am, then comes back to me. “Right. Okay, listen—”
“You’re going to prom with Carrie.”
He frowns. “Yeah.”
“Chido.” Fine by me.
He tilts his head. “You sure?”
I look at him like I’m bored because I am.
“I don’t even know how it happened. It’s like one minute she’s talking about you and her birthday, and then she’s telling me what time to meet her there.” He squints at nothing on the table then shakes his head.
I’d feel sorry for the cholo for getting sucked into the rich girl’s web, but I know he’d dive in headfirst at the prospect of getting laid.
“You sure it’s okay? She was such a bitch to Mercy this morning. If you want me to blow her off, I will.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “It’s fine, I’m cool. And now you have the perfect opportunity to show off that rainbow suit.”
“Shut the fu . . .” He looks down the table and notices all the eyes still on him. “Um . . . yeah. Okay, sweet.” He slaps his palms on the table. “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. You’re doing me a favor.”
“Okay, then . . . You’re welcome.” He folds his arms on the table and leans in. “Be a lot more fun if you were going to be there.”
“Nah . . . you know Mexicans ain’t down with threesomes—”
He lands a punch to my shoulder before I’m even done talking. “You know what I mean. Who’s gonna spike the punch with me?”
“I’m sure you’ll recruit some idiot to help you out.”
“Can I go?”
I turn my head toward Mercy, who simply stares back as if she’s asked something as simple as today’s weather. That makes sense. Not having grown up in a traditional home, she’s never learned about petty things like school dances and the proper protocol of being asked.
“You don’t want to go, Güera. Prom’s nothing but a bunch of horny kids stuffed into a dark room who use dancing as an excuse to feel each other up.”
Damian snorts, but Mercy just continues to look at me expectantly.
“I’ve never been to a dance before. I want to go.”
“I’ll go with you to prom, Mercy.” The big guy to her left smiles at her in a way that makes my fists clench.
“Okay,” Mercy says then looks up at me. “I’ll go with Bobby.”
“No, you’re not going with Bobby,” I growl, which has Damian cough-laughing into his fist. I glare at him then try to cool off a bit before looking back at Mercy. “Bobby’s a junior. You have to be a senior to go to prom.”
“Oh.” She frowns, and I feel her disappointment in my stomach. “It seems like something normal high school girls want to do.”
I should’ve known convincing her to act like a normal teenager to stay out of the cuckoo bin would come back and bite me in the ass.
“Look.” I can’t believe what I’m about to do. “If you really want to go, I’ll take you.”
Her big crystal eyes shine up at me. “Really?”
I could never say no to her when she looks at me like that. “Yeah.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Damian speaks up, getting Mercy’s attention, but he looks right at me. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Emilio. It’s her first prom. Ask her like you mean it.”
I am going to kick his ass.
I turn to Mercy and take her sweatshirt-covered hands in mine, looking her in the eye. I want so badly to press my lips to her eyelids—what the fuck, Milo? Get it together! Her gaze darts from my eyes to my mouth then my neck and back to my eyes. Once I have her full attention, I clear my throat.
“Mercy. Will you do me the honor of being my prom date?”
She seems a little stunned for a response then throws her arms around my neck. The hug is a little awkward, not in the way most are but because of the bench we’re sitting on. I hug her back, loving the way her body feels between my knees and pressed against me. She suddenly releases me and settles back into her seat.
“I’m gonna assume that’s a yes?”
Her white eyebrows pop up over the palest blue eyes. “Yes, thank you. Please, yes.”
Fuck, she’s cute.
“All right. So pick me up.” Damian pushes up from the table.
“Wait, what? No.” Fuck no. “We’ll see you there.”
“Stupid. No use in us taking two cars. Besides, I need a DD.”
“No fuckin’ way, puto.” I want to tell him I’m not his bitch and I refuse to allow Carrie anywhere near Mercy, but I can’t get the words out in time as he disappears between tables and out of view.
Great.
AT ALMOST TEN o’clock at night, I hear a knock on my door. “Coming!” I pause my game and toss aside my controller before hopping up to open the door.
“Laura?” I shrink away as she pushes into my room. Her stern expression has my heart hammering. “What’s wrong? Is it the boys?”
“The boys are fine. They’re in bed.” She huffs out a breath then turns toward me. “It’s Mercy I’m worried about.”
But she doesn’t look worried, she looks pissed, which means . . . Oh no. “Sit?” I motion toward the couch.
“No thanks.” Her gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “Mercy just asked if I could take her shopping for a prom dress.”
I swallow and scratch at the day’s worth of stubble on my jaw. I’ve never been good with a girl’s parents, but I didn’t think dealing with my own foster parents would have me sweating. I was wrong.
“Yeah, about that. Mercy had mentioned she wanted to go to prom, and I don’t trust anyone else to take her. I figured I’d take her. We could pop in for a bit, show her what it’s like to be a regular ol’ teenager. I think she’d like it.”
She doesn’t speak, but her jaw flexes, making me feel as though I’m in front of a judge.
“Is there a problem? I mean, if you don’t want me to take her—”
“You kissed her, Milo!”
Those four words ring through the small space and bounce around the walls before slamming me straight in the gut.
Mercy told her.
Shit.
Laura steps closer, and it takes everything I have not to duck away from the fire in her eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I open my mouth to lie, but I’d be making Mercy a liar, and she doesn’t deserve that. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah. I kissed her.”
“What?” Her shoulders slump, and her face twists in a mix of worry and disappointment. “Milo, she’s underage. She’s a foster living under our roof. You’re a legal adult. There are so many reasons why this is not okay.”
Of course she’s right, but nothing about being around Mercy feels wrong.
“How could you do this to me?” Her eyes glisten with tears. “I trusted you!”
“It was just a kiss,” I mumble knowing how lame that sounds because in truth it was so much more.
“Just a kiss? Just a kiss! Do you have any idea what this means? I have to report you to—”
“No, Laura, please. I’m so close to getting to the point where I can adopt the boys.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you took advantage of a young girl who—”
“Took advantage? Mercy’s not a kid. We talked about it first, and she wanted me to kiss her. And that’s all it was. I p
romise.”
“She is a child, Milo. Maybe not on the outside, but emotionally she isn’t ready for this.”
“I think you’re wrong. I’ve spent time with her, and she’s a lot more mature than any of the girls her age. Besides, you told me you’re not even sure how old she really is. She could be twenty-two for all we know.”
“That’s not the point!”
“What is the point?”
She takes a deep breath in through her nose and blows it out her mouth, trying to calm herself down before speaking. “You took advantage of her feelings for you. She’s never been around peers, never felt anything like attraction or lust. I know you’re not new to these things, Milo. You say it was just a kiss, and maybe it was to you, but”—she shakes her head—“it was more than just a kiss to her.”
Somehow, I already knew all that. I knew it before it happened, and I know it now. There’s a pull between us that goes well beyond adolescent making out.
I drop down on the edge of my bed and cup my head in my hands. The room becomes so thick with silence that I wonder if Laura slipped out without me knowing. All I can hear is my own labored breath.
“Break it off.”
Nope. She’s still here.
I prop my elbows on my knees and peer up, staring at the woman who has been a mother to me and my brothers for the last three years, who has done everything in her power to make us feel safe again. I should agree easily to whatever she wants, but there’s no way I can give her this.
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can. Just go in there and tell her that you can’t take her to—”
“No. I care about her. I don’t know when it started, but it’s there.” Just listening to myself say it out loud lifts the hundred-pound slab of guilt from my chest. “I don’t want to break it off because it’ll hurt me, but more importantly it’ll hurt her, and I can’t bring myself to do that. Not even for you.”
She blinks rapidly as she seems to process what I’ve said. She’s not the only one. Even as I replay the words in my head, I’m amazed at how true they are, how deeply I believe them.
“And if I report you?”
I shrug even though I’m ripping my hair out inside. “Then I’ll be labeled as a statutory rapist for the rest of my life . . . all because I kissed a seventeen-year-old girl that I fell in lo—” I slam my lips closed, catching myself before the word leaves my lips.
Our eyes widen simultaneously. My mouth gapes like a fish’s as I try to justify what I almost said, to attempt to cover it up, but I can’t. My entire being rejects my attempt, no matter how hard I try.
“Milo, no . . .” she whispers.
I smile sadly, because I can see by the way Laura’s eyes squeeze to tiny slits that she’s not only going to report me, but she’ll never forgive me.
“Laura—”
She holds her hand up and whirls around toward the door. “I can’t.”
“Please, just consider what you’re about to do—”
The door slams behind her, and I’m stuck staring at it and wondering how Mercy was able to creep in and slide under my skin without me even knowing it . . . and how I could so quickly fuck up my entire future for a girl.
Milo
“CARRIE’S A BITCH.” Damian doesn’t sound surprised when I explain why I’m not driving him to meet that skank at prom. “I didn’t say yes to prom because I have a hard-on for her gentle spirit towards others, if you know what I mean.”
I slip on my running shoes, killing time before I’m forced to go into the main house and grab a shower before tonight.
I’m assuming since I refused to break things off with Mercy—and Laura hasn’t stomped out here with the cops on her heels—that prom night is still on. Is it too much to hope that they’ll be gone most of the day and I can do everything I need to get done in the main house while they’re out? “Right, so we’ll see you there, but you keep your date a good ten feet from mine at all times. I didn’t escape the LS only to end up in prison for backhanding a female.”
“Will do. Hey, what’s up with you and Güera anyway?”
Hearing him call her Güera shouldn’t bother me. It’s as generic a word for us as gringo or ese, yet my shoulders tense. “Her name is Mercy, asshole. And . . . I don’t know. She’s cool.” I do know—I so know—but I’m not ready to out us to the world. It’s bad enough that Laura knows.
“She’s cool? We’re not in third grade. You hit that yet?”
I glare across the room as though he were standing right in front of me, and he should be thankful he’s not, but I’m sure he can feel the shit through the phone. “No mames.”
“Güey . . .” He’s laughing his ass off. “I called it! I knew you were way into her. Just tell me I’m right so we can move on.”
“Whatever.” I grab my keys and lock up before I hit the pavement for my run. The warm sun on my bare shoulders calms my nerves a little. “It’s complicated.”
“I bet it is, what with her being your sister and all.” He’s still chuckling.
“It’s not that.” I turn back to make sure I’m a good distance away from the house and turn the corner. “Laura knows.”
“Oh fuck. That ain’t good.”
“No shit.”
“How? Did she catch you two, like, naked?”
“No, fuckface. We haven’t been naked together. This is Mercy we’re talking about.”
He responds in an understanding grunt.
“We kissed. That’s all. I guess she was telling Laura about prom, and I don’t know why, but she told her.”
“What’s Laura going to do?”
“Last thing she said was that she was going to report me.”
“No way! Laura wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. She was pretty pissed off.”
“Fuck, I hope Mercy’s worth it. That’s all I’m saying.”
Mercy? Is she worth it? Worth a lifetime of wearing a statutory-rape label? If it meant we could finally be together, hell yeah.
My feet slow until I’m standing still on the sidewalk.
I’d never sacrifice myself for anyone outside of my brothers and maybe Damian—on one of his better, nondickhead days—but yeah, I’d wear the sex-offender label proudly if that’s what it takes to call her mine.
Shit.
Now what?
“I better go, I need to grab a jog and a bite before tonight.”
“Cool. See you later. And, Milo?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
All the luck in the world won’t be enough to get me out of the mess I’ve created for myself.
At this point, that would take an act of God.
THE TIME IS after six o’clock, and I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how the hell I’ve managed to get all cleaned up and still look like a convict. How do you plead? Not guilty, your honor.
I look down at myself and wonder if maybe it’s just me. I am, after all, wearing the same thing I wore to my last court date. The navy-blue button-up shirt is a little tight in the shoulders, but when I roll up the sleeves, it doesn’t feel as though I’ll Hulk the fabric every time I move my arms.
Black slacks, black tie, my new black Converse—I did manage to get a haircut today, so the sides of my pelo are tight, the longer hair on top blacker than usual with some shit the guy at the barbershop used on it. I’m a cleaned-up twenty-year-old gangster who looks like he’s finally getting his day in court.
I check the clock one more time and realize I’m making a horrible impression by being late, but forgive the fuck out of me for not jumping up and down with excitement at the idea of facing Laura and Chris to claim Mercy for our date.
Date.
I’ve never even been on a date.
Well fuck me, Milo. You’re growing up.
I grab my keys, take another pass through my hair, check that my zipper is up—
A knock at my door whips my head around.
“It’s Laura.”
I cross to the door, hit the lock, and open it to find my foster mom standing there with a small, square box in her hand. She doesn’t come inside, but I am blocking the doorway in case I need to make a quick escape. After our last convo, I have to question her motives for being here.
“You’re late,” she says without a smile.
So far so good. “I know. I was just leaving.” I push out the door and lock it behind me.
When she doesn’t say anything, I turn and head to the back door of the main house.
“Milo, wait.”
I stop but don’t turn, and soon enough, she’s back in front of me, this time her face seems softer, less . . . accusatory.
“I’m sorry about the way I responded last night to the news of you and Mercy.”
Okay. I was not expecting that. I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug. “I know I fucked up. You had every right to—”
“No. I didn’t. I’ve known you for years, and never once have I questioned your intentions. I know you’re smart, Milo. If you say you know what you’re doing where Mercy is concerned, then I believe you. I’m sorry for questioning your integrity.”
“Ain’t no big deal.”
“It is a big deal, and although I think you should’ve waited until she was legal, I won’t report you and make you register as a sex offender if it was only one kiss.” She lifts a brow.
“It was. Just one.” It was a little more than that, but the details won’t help my cause, so I’m keeping them to myself. I hold my hands up. “I’m keeping these to myself tonight. I promise.”
“Thank you. I know you’re trying to help her, showing her what it means to be a normal teenage girl. I’m sorry I jumped all over you.” She cracks the tiniest smile then shoves the little box toward me. “This is for you to give to Mercy. It’s a corsage.”
Oh shit. I didn’t even think of that. I take the box, which has the golden logo of some fancy florist on the top. “Thanks. Not even on the date yet, and I’m already fucking it up.”
Ghostgirl ~ JB Salsbury Page 22
