by Holly Hood
“Don’t freak out. He might not go nuts if you just don’t freak out,” I warned Slade. He backed up against the counter. “Crawford,” I warned, raising my hand to keep him at bay.
Crawford studied Slade closely. No signs of aggression showing. I slowly moved toward Slade. Crawford licked his lips, letting out a low growl. This was something he’d never done before.
“Can you put him away?” Slade asked out of the corner of his mouth, clearly too afraid to move. “I really don’t like dogs.”
I moved a little closer to Slade, grabbing his hand and bringing it to his side. “Slade is nice. Now, Crawford, go lay down,” I ordered.
Crawford took three steps until he was close enough to smell him. He jumped up, his paws pushing into Slade shoulders. I laughed as Crawford went for his face, his tongue grazing him quickly.
“Are you kidding me?” Slade groaned, looking at me for help. He patted the top of Crawford’s head, guiding him back to the ground.
“He likes you. See, not bad at all. Are you over your fear of dogs now?” I asked, eyeing him as I went back to the groceries.
Dad came in the door, doing a double take. He shook his head, confused. “I didn’t know we were having a guest.” He stared at Slade, patting Crawford’s head.
I accepted his kiss on my cheek, nodding my head. “Dad, this is Slade. Slade, this is my dad. And be nice to Slade, Dad, because he paid for all of these groceries.” I pulled his credit card out of my pocket, wagging it in his face like a parent would do a child “So say thank you.”
Dad ran his hand through his hair and let out a defeated sigh. “Slade, what can I say, my daughter is right, thank you.” They shook hands.
“Not a problem, sir,” Slade said with a nod.
Dad pulled out a chair, offering him a seat. “So what’s for dinner?” Dad asked me, looking through the last of the bags.
“You mean she can cook?” Slade joked. It was nice to see his lighter side.
Dad pulled up a chair, amused by this. “Yeah, most nights she doesn’t do too bad, although, there was that one time when she set the stove on fire,” Dad said, laughing with Slade at my expense.
“He’s kidding,” I insisted, pulling out a large skillet to brown the hamburger I bought in. I was going to make spaghetti. It was affordable and could feed a lot of people.
“So, Slade, tell me a little about yourself. Like for starters, what your intentions are with my daughter,” Dad said.
I whirled around, skillet in hand, shocked. What was Dad thinking asking such a thing?
“I intend on getting to know her. I hardly know a thing about her, so far she’s a nice enough girl,” he said, wriggling nicely through Dad’s hoop. I smiled, thinking how great of a kisser he was, my mind drifting off to Slade and his lips.
“Where abouts do you stay, are your parents from here?” Dad questioned. He shot me a look as I dropped the raw hamburger into the pan.
“I live around Henry Park with my good friend Oz and his mother,” Slade said, not at all bothered to be admitting his living arrangements. He didn’t seem afraid to admit anything. “It works out seeing I help with the bands and do a little singing myself.”
Dad scratched at his chin, he shook his head. “Oh we know a thing or two about singing around here, ain’t that right, Hope?”
“Dad, Slade is an amazing singer. He’s as good as the big named ones we listen to all the time. He should be famous.” I smiled thinking about it.
Dad’s face lit with amusement. He stood up. “I think I will go clean up before dinner. Nice to meet you, Slade.”
I looked at him, confused at his early exit. He patted my shoulder, heading down the hallway.
“Well, that was just weird,” I muttered, chopping up the sizzling hamburger with my spatula.
“Not really. It’s easy to see you were gushing,” Slade spoke up from behind me.
I sat the spatula down, turning towards him. “I wasn’t gushing.” I crossed my arms.
He raised an eyebrow. “It was pretty gushy.”
Had I really gushed? I was simply telling him about Slade’s voice, that’s all it was.
Slade came over to the stove, he eyed the hamburger, turning the burner down to medium. “You don’t want to burn it.”
I swatted at him as he turned the meat. “I know how to cook.”
He gave back the spatula.
“This heart on my wrist, I can’t imagine how it got there,” I mentioned, fingering the small heart on my wrist.
“That’s good stuff,” he said, touching my wrist gently.
I pulled a pot out of the top cupboard and started filling it with water to boil the noodles.
“I’ve thought of about a million ways you could have done that, and I really have no logical explanation.” I gave him a simple smile, waiting for an answer. There had to be a reason. A really good reason why I couldn’t take off his ink, and I wanted to hear it.
Slade took his pointer finger and trailed it across my collarbone. I smiled. He watched closely as his finger slid up my neck, then across my chin until he lifted it and kissed my lips. The only sound was the food cooking, and the soft sounds of our lips moving together rhythmically. I held tight to his neck, enjoying every minute.
“Hope,” Dad called from the hallway. I pulled back, returning to the food. Slade drifted back across the room and took a seat at the table.
“Yeah, Dad?” I called out, trying to calm my nerves.
“Are there any clean clothes lying around here, or do I need to do laundry?” he asked.
Slade gave me a sympathetic smile. I set the skillet to low, heading into the living room. I picked up the laundry basket that Easton was using as his footstool and carried it down the hall to Dad who had his head poking out of the bathroom door.
“Thanks, my love. Food smells good. Is this Slade staying for dinner?” He gave me a grin.
I pushed his head back into the bathroom trying to shut the door. “Dad, I don’t know. Don’t embarrass me please.”
“I would never do such a thing. Although I do have some great photos…I’m kidding. He seems like a nice enough kid, give or take the fish hook stuck in his lip.” Dad grinned, finally shutting the door.
I hurried back to the kitchen where Slade was busy adding the pasta to the boiling water.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I told him, taking over.
“I was trying to help you out. You seem to be really busy with taking care of these three guys all the time,” Slade commented.
I pushed my hair off my shoulder, stirring the sauce. “It’s nothing. Do you want to stay for dinner? It’s the least I could do after you paid for it.” I looked at him. Slade studied the bubbling water before looking back up at me. I wondered if he was afraid of my cooking.
“Sure,” he said finally, taking a seat at the table.
Once I got the food dished out, Slade and I went out onto the porch.
“Is it me or is everyone here really uppity?” I asked him. I twirled the noodles around my fork. We ate on the patio chairs, watching the beachgoers go about their evening.
“Every last one of them. Cherry is full of upper-class assholes,” Slade promised me.
I believed him, it seemed everyone here wore a fancy name brand outfit, drove ridiculously expensive cars or had something on them tanned or plastic. The only ones who didn’t fall into that category were Slade and his crew, I thought to myself. And it seemed the ones who weren’t that well off still liked to pretend to be and treated everyone horribly.
“Well, Campbell is nice enough,” I commented. I had forgotten about Campbell.
“Her family is loaded. And I guess she has her moments of normal behavior.” Slade shrugged. He set his plate on the railing of the porch. I waited for it to crash onto the floor in a million pieces.
“What makes you so normal?” I said, eyeing him.
He rested in his seat, his hands behind his head. “I don’t come from rich parents. So I g
uess I never got that chance to act like I’m better than anyone.” He rose up in his seat as Tucker and his long-haired friend approached.
“You didn’t tell me you were having company,” Slade said, giving me a disturbed look. He acted like he was being set up.
Tucker grabbed a hold of my gate. “You’re not ready?” He ignored Slade.
“I told you to call me,” I reminded him. I wasn’t sure what it was with these guys and lack of phones. I always saw Tucker playing on his Droid, or whatever it was he sported around at school, so why was it so hard for him to use it to call me?
“You never said you weren’t going to come. In fact, I really took your exit as an omigod I have to run out and get a dress.” He shot me a grin. Slade removed his plate from the railing. He stayed standing, staring down at Tucker and his friend.
“Slade, let me guess, there was no food back at the camper so Hope did you a favor and fed you.” Tucker and his friend laughed, high fiving each other.
This played on my nerves. I couldn’t not say something. I had been holding so much in since I got here.
“You know what, Tucker?” I started. Slade touched my shoulder trying to get me to just stop whatever I was about to do. I pulled away. “If you must know, he actually paid for my groceries because my dad was low on cash this week. So you got it all wrong,” I snapped, taking Slade’s plate and heading inside. Slade followed.
“You didn’t have to say that. I don’t care what they say about me. You’re the one who goes to school with those kids,” he told me.
I started the sink water. “I know, but it gets on my nerves, so I thought it would make him look like a jackass.” I grinned. Slade grinned as well, but that slowly ended as Tucker knocked on the screen door.
“Come on in I guess,” I grumbled.
Tucker and his pal took a seat. Both of them, now that I looked at them, dressed in black blazers with white undershirts and skinny black ties, both in high end designer jeans and dress shoes.
“The party is underway and I couldn’t show up without my date. So run in there and throw on something nice and we can get out of here,” Tucker urged.
He flashed me one of his lovely smiles and something in it had me wanting to go. He was eager and it felt a little good to see someone wanted me, that someone wanted me there for them.
“Honestly, I don’t have anything to wear. I barely have dresses, and none of them are that formal.” I thought about my options for a formal occasion. The only formal thing I owned was my homecoming dress from last year’s dance back at home.
“Just throw on a dress. I really want you to come,” Tucker nearly begged me.
“Yeah, and Slade can do the dishes, he’s used to that kind of work,” Tucker’s friend said with a laugh.
I slammed down my sponge in irritation. I was really hoping Dad would overhear the ruckus in the kitchen and tell them to leave, but he was probably halfway through with a bottle of Jack in his bedroom by now. And Easton and Elliot were off in their own room playing video games.
“Hey, I got to go. Maybe I’ll see you later,” Slade told me. He squeezed my arm, passing by me and out the front door.
Tucker shot his friend an annoyed look.
“I’m going to run down to Jesse’s. I’ll give you two some time to pull it together,” his friend said. I thought long and hard on his name. I thought maybe it was Carl, but I wasn’t sure.
Tucker got up, opening up my cupboards; he was awful nosy, I thought. He turned to me finally. “This will be a lot of fun, I promise. Probably a lot more fun than anything Slade could show you.” He smoothed my hair.
“Why must you always put him down? I know you don’t like him but it’s really not cool.” I looked into his eyes. Couldn’t he just be a decent guy?
Tucker sighed. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’m sorry. I will try to be nicer to Slade. I will try to be civil. Does that make you happy?” Just before I could answer, Nona burst through the door dressed in a long red dress, it fit her body snugly.
“There’s my girl. And not even ready!” She gasped. She snapped her fingers and Claude appeared in the doorway with a black bag. She snapped them again and Claude unzipped the bag revealing a light pink dress with a black belt and the tiniest straps that held the illusion that there were none at all. She very carefully handed over the dress.
“I guess this means I am going?” I asked Nona.
She gave a nod. “Go get your clothes on. We don’t want to be late.” She turned, looking Tucker over. “He looks dashing right, Hope?”
I nodded my head and headed to my bedroom.
Behind my door no one knew what I was doing. Or how I felt. My bedroom was my one safe hiding place from the world. I slipped out of my clothes, and then I touched the small black heart.
My mind was on Slade, and I was determined to get to the bottom of this ink. There was no way he did what he did. I opened up my laptop. With everything going on in Cherry that had to do with music, I wondered if anything was on the internet.
I typed in Evil kings of Ink. I was sure there was some sort of fan page somewhere for such a popular band. I hurried to slip on my dress as the hourglass turned slowly on my laptop. Our internet sucked in this house.
While I waited, I pulled my hair up in a bun, securing one side with a pearl hair clip. I applied some shimmery pink lip gloss to my lips and finally the page was loaded. I clicked on the first link as I brushed on some pink blush.
Band linked to bizarre rituals
Evil kings of Ink are said to practice witchcraft. Is this the cause of all the followers? Or are we simply living in a society where anything with a skull is perceived as scary?
Residents of Cherry don’t think so, they have banned their children from even stepping foot into the concert after a young teen was found dead. Is there more to the show then just good music and lots of tattoos?
There was a knock at my door. I clicked off of the website. “I’ll be out in a minute!”
“Hurry up, munchkin, Nona needs a martini!” Nona shouted from the other side of the door.
I pulled on some dress shoes, hurrying down the hallway. My mind raced. Witchcraft? That was just bizarre. Nothing about Slade made me even assume such a thing.
“Wow,” Tucker said, his mouth open in awe.
Nona jabbed Tucker in the ribs. “I told you she got even cuter,” she remarked, taking Claude by the arm and heading out the door.
“You look amazing,” Tucker insisted.
I smiled. “Tucker, can I ask you something?”
Tucker nodded. We ignored Nona’s demands to hurry, standing in the middle of the living room.
“Did you ever hear about witchcraft here in Cherry?” I scanned his expression.
He pulled at his tie, a little nervous. “Why would you ask something like that?”
I shrugged. “Just heard something in school.” I hoped he believed me.
“People are stupid, Hope. Back when all that stuff was happening with the missing girl and the band, people were swearing on their first born that the band possessed some powers. But we live in the real world, stuff like that doesn’t exist. So whatever you’re thinking, just forget it.” He turned me toward the door, making me head out.
“Yeah, but what kind of powers?”
Tucker scratched at his head. “Ancient bullshit. Something to do with Indians or aliens, I don’t know. That’s how much I fed into it.”
I followed along hanging on to Tucker’s every word.
“My dad says the only people who hold powers like that are evil. And it’s not really power at all, it’s just Satan. Let’s stop talking about it, okay?”
I sighed, not wanting to stop. “I will once I get a quick explanation.”
Tucker groaned. He stopped on the boardwalk, throwing a hand through his hair anxiously. “Wade Andrews was part of the band, also Slade and Erica Andrew’s father. One night at a bar, Wade got into a scuffle over a pool or dart game. Everyone at t
hat bar swore this man’s tattoos exuded an energy, that he lifted the entire pool table above his head and crushed the other guy. Some people even swore they saw him rise up off the ground. I call bullshit.”
Tucker chuckled. “It gives me the creeps. And from then on everyone swore they were witches or practicing some sort of satanic witchcraft.”
I nodded, not able to say anything.
“Parent’s were upset because their perfect little girls were going into these concerts all sweet and innocent and coming out trashy. Our neighbor actually caught his daughter getting it on with two men in his own bed. It’s just disgusting,” Tucker told me.
“Maybe it’s nothing more than the girls. I mean look at Darby,” I said with a shrug. Maybe this town was just too afraid to admit they weren’t as perfect as they wanted to be.
“Maybe. Or maybe they are just bad people. Just ordinary criminals that don’t give a shit about anyone but their own kind,” Tucker suggested.
I changed the subject as we headed up to a lavish house lit up like a Christmas tree, hundreds of people all across the sand and lawn.
Punch Drunk
Tucker’s hand stay glued to the lower part of my back as we hurried into the party. I searched for Nona and Claude, someone to make me feel at least a little normal. But they were nowhere to be found. As I looked a little closer it seemed the lawn and patio was only congested with the younger crowd. Just about everyone from school and the beach was swarming all around.
Tiny lights hung over head, sparkling against the sky. They reminded me of the kind you decorated your Christmas tree with. A soft set of violins carried through the air along with the clatter and rattling of fancy dishes.
“Are you hungry?” Tucker asked, stopping in front of the buffet tables.
I wasn’t sure what any of the items were that I was staring at. I shook my head no. I wasn’t one to try odd foods, and judging by how rich his family was. I was sure it was super odd.
“You sure?” he asked again, picking up a cracker with something black on top of it. He popped it in his mouth.
