by H. Karhoff
“You’ll be okay,” he said. “They don’t bite. Well, most of them don’t.”
“I know,” I replied meekly.
He chuckled and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, it opened. A guy I didn’t recognize stood on the inside. I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop from screaming when I saw him. He was frightening. His dark hair hung down past his shoulders and he wore black lipstick. There were at least half a dozen piercings on his face studded with silver loops. When he put his cigarette to his lips, I saw that his fingernails were also black and he wore various silver rings with skulls and snakes. I slid behind Devon and held my breath, waiting for the guy to pull out some sort of satanic knife and attack us.
“Hey, Devon,” the guy said with a smile. “What’s up, man?”
“Not much,” Devon replied.
“This your girl?” the gaunt man asked.
“Yeah.” Devon nodded.
“Hey.” The guy looked around Devon’s shoulder at me.
“This is Carter’s brother, Chase,” Devon explained. “This is his place.”
“Hi,” I squeaked, trying to keep my distance from the stranger. It didn’t seem possible that this terrifying person could be related to a scrawny nerd like Carter.
“You want anything from the liquor store?” Chase turned back to Devon. “I was just headed out to get some more beer.”
“I’m good.” Devon shook his head. “I’ve got to get her home in a few hours.”
“Okay, man,” Chase said, slapping Devon on the shoulder as he stepped out.
Devon led me inside and shut the door. I stayed behind him, peeking around his arm at the rest of the room. It wasn’t much to look at. The carpet was orange shag and the furniture looked like it hadn’t been new since the seventies. There was a dozen or more people gathered in the tiny room. I recognized some of them, but others were strangers.
“What is she doing here?” A girl’s voice asked from the corner.
I turned to see the dark-haired girl glaring at me. She looked like she was about to cross the room and tear my head off. I didn’t want to show fear, but she and her friends scared me. Without any adults around I wasn’t sure what they would do.
“He’s got nerve,” one of the girls sitting near her added.
Devon looked at the girls, and then tugged on my hand. “Come on.”
I followed him through the crowded front room and into the kitchen. Carter sat at a small table with two older guys playing poker. There was a small stack of coins and one dollar bills in the middle.
“I didn’t think we’d see you until later on, Dev.” Carter looked up when we walked in. “You want me to deal you in?”
“Sure.” Devon nodded as he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. Taking out a bottle of Budweiser, he offered it to me. I took it, even though I didn’t really like beer. With everyone watching, I didn’t want to look like a prude. I already felt like a minnow in a pool full of sharks. There was no need to chum the water.
Devon grabbed another bottle and shut the refrigerator door. Then he walked back to the table and sat in the last available chair. I stood between him and Carter, watching the other two boys at the table cautiously.
“What are we playing?” Devon asked as he twisted the top off his beer.
“Five card stud,” Carter answered.
Devon leaned forward and pulled out his wallet. He unfolded it and sorted through the bills quickly. Taking out a few, he folded it back up, unhooked the chain attached to it from his belt, and handed it to me. I stared at it for a second before I wound the chain around the outside and put it in my coat pocket.
“You’re going to let her have your wallet?” One of the older boys chuckled.
“Dangerous business, D.” The other shook his head.
“I wouldn’t let a woman near my money,” the first boy said. “That’s a good way to go broke.”
“I’m not worried about it,” Devon answered. “If Tori wants it, she can have it.”
“Tori?” The second boy looked at me. “As in Chris’ sister, Tori?”
I nodded.
He turned back to Devon and chuckled. “Dude, you got balls.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“No reason.” The boy shook his head, still chuckling.
“My brother knows we’re together,” I said.
The two older boys laughed. I had no idea what the joke was, but I got the impression that I was the butt of it. My cheeks blushed and I could feel the last bit of confidence I had running out the door. If I wouldn’t have been so far from home, I might have followed it. Instead, I stood there, desperately trying not to look any more like a loser than I felt.
Devon turned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward him. I sat down on his leg and he put his arm around me. Then he took a drink of his beer, glancing around the table at the other boys. Their laughter faded and they returned to the game.
I watched as they played through a few hands. Devon sat casually watching the other boys. He didn’t seem all that concerned about the game. I guessed that was because he appeared to be winning. The pile of cash on our side of the table had grown from the few bills he’d taken out of his wallet.
Shifting his weight, Devon pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. Carter grabbed the ashtray and set it down in front of me. Devon slid it to the other side of the table and set down his cigarette. He finished off his beer, and then tossed the bottle into the trash can behind Carter. I handed him the unopened bottle he’d given me earlier, taking my coat off and leaning back against him as he unscrewed the cap.
The boys played through several hands before the dark-haired girl walked into the kitchen. I looked over to see her standing in the doorway, staring at Devon like a lioness ready to pounce on her unsuspecting prey. It made me uneasy. I’d just started to relax.
“You boys having fun?” she asked, taking a step toward the table.
“What’s up, Claire?” the boy to the right glanced back at her.
“Nothing,” she replied. “Just came to check on you guys. Who’s winning?”
“D’s taking us to the cleaners,” Marty said.
“Of course he is.” She giggled. “He always does.”
She walked over, putting her hand on Devon’s right shoulder. He scowled at her and she pulled her hand back quickly. Then she smiled and glanced at the other boys.
“We going to play, or not?” Marty asked.
“Can I play?” Claire asked.
“Sure,” the boy to the right answered. “We’ll deal you in on the next hand.”
She sat down on the boy’s lap and put her forearms on the table. When she leaned forward, the neckline of her shirt went down so that everyone in front of her could see straight down it. Devon stared at her as he took a drink of his beer. I elbowed him in the stomach and he looked away quickly, coughing.
“Get yourself in trouble, Dev?” Carter chuckled.
Devon looked at him. “Just deal.”
Carter finished shuffling the cards and started to deal them out, adding Claire into the game. She picked up her cards as he dropped them, leaning onto the table a little farther. Carter paused, captivated by her breasts nearly falling out of her shirt. Devon looked at her again and shifted his weight in his chair. I didn’t like the way he looked at her. It made me extremely uncomfortable.
Throughout the next few hands, she turned up the heat. It was like competing with the real life version of Jessica Rabbit. I didn’t want to stoop to her level, but I was worried that if I didn’t do something, she’d lure Devon away from me. Turning sideways, I rested my elbow on his shoulder and ran my fingers through his hair. Then I kissed his cheek and asked if he wanted another beer.
“Sure, Baby Doll,” he answered, kissing me before I got up.
“Anyone else?” I asked as I opened the refrigerator.
“No, thanks,” Marty and the other boys said.
“Carter?” I looked at
the scrawny nerd.
“I’m good,” Carter answered, picking up a bottle of generic cola.
Chase’s refrigerator was one of the most disgusting things I had ever seen. There were a few different types of mold growing on what looked like it might have been food at one point, splatters of unknown substances stuck to the sides, an almost empty half-gallon of curdled milk, an opened box of microwave burritos, and what remained of the three cases of beer Chase had gotten at the liquor store. I held my breath to stop from gagging as I retrieved a beer and shut the door quickly.
When I turned back to the table, Claire was leaned over the corner, asking Devon something about her car. It had evidently developed some kind of knock and she wanted him to fix it.
“I’ll see if I can take a look at it tomorrow after work,” Devon said.
“Thank you so much.” Claire put her hand on Devon’s arm.
I set the beer down on the counter, took my sweater off, and adjusted my camisole so that the neckline was lower. Then I walked back to the table and stepped between Devon and Claire, forcing her to move her hand. As I gave Devon his beer, I leaned down and kissed his check.
“Here you go, baby,” I whispered.
“Thanks.” He grinned.
Standing beside him, I ran my fingers through his hair as the poker game continued. Claire attempted to regain his attention, but it didn’t work. He hardly noticed her. When my legs got tired, I slipped onto Devon’s lap again. He put his arm around me, sliding his hand up the bottom of my shirt onto my stomach. It made me a little uncomfortable considering the close proximity of his friends, but I didn’t say anything. From the way that Claire and the other girls acted I’d gotten a pretty good idea of the kind of girl I thought Devon liked. If I wanted to keep him away from them, I figured I’d have to act more like they did.
Thirteen
Christmas with my family was a nightmare. Most of my cousins were over-achievers. I saw the disappointment in my mother’s face as her sisters boasted about all the things their children were doing. Chris and I were average students at best and the twins were ill-behaved brats that weren’t old enough to compete with student body presidents and soon-to-be valedictorians. As soon as everyone left, my mom compensated for our lack of brag-worthy accomplishments by recalling the stories she’d heard and encouraging us to be more like Cousin So-and-so. Chris listened for a while. Then he scooted out the door with no clear destination.
I tried to escape, but my few remaining friends were out of town and Devon was working. When he finally came to pick me up at seven, I was so thankful to see him that I raced out the door before he made it halfway up the sidewalk. He smiled at me. Then he took my hand and we walked out to the street.
He wasn’t driving RJ’s car. Instead, he had a newer red coupe with tan leather seats and a five-speed transmission. At first, I thought he’d finally gotten his own car, but he explained that he’d borrowed it from one of his friends. When I asked him which friend, he shrugged it off and I didn’t think it was a big deal. At least I had gotten a reprieve from RJ’s stinky rust bucket.
“Anything in particular you wanted to do tonight?” he asked as he started the car.
“I’m not sure there’s much to do,” I said. “Lancaster’s is the only place I know of that doesn’t close on Christmas.”
“I think you’re right.”
“We could go to your house.”
“We could,” he said with a tone that suggested a “but” would follow.
“You’ve been to my house tons of times. I’ve never been to yours.”
“Believe me, it’s nothing special.”
“Well, if you have a better idea, I’m all ears,” I said.
He sighed. “I guess we’re going to my house.”
We drove down Main Street, past most of the newer businesses. I watched out the window as the buildings gradually became less welcoming. Most of the stores on that side of town had been closed for years. Weeds had overtaken the parking lots and the windows were either boarded up or broken. Devon turned the car at an unmarked street next to one of the few businesses still open: the liquor store. Neon lights advertising different brands of beer flashed in the dark windows.
A few blocks up the road he turned again, passing two trailers and a condemned shack before pulling into the driveway of a house that didn’t look much better than the one next to it. The white paint had peeled off the wood siding, the porch roof looked like it would collapse with the next gust of wind, and the front window was partially covered by plywood. Other than the neat yard scattered with children’s toys, the house looked abandoned. It was hard to believe anyone actually lived there.
“Is this your house?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered. “I know. It’s a dump.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” I lied.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
He turned the car off and opened the door. I grabbed the handle on the passenger door and pulled it. Nothing happened. I glanced at him. Then I tried the door handle again. It moved freely in my hand, but the door didn’t budge. There wasn’t even that clicking sound a door usually makes when it opens.
“I’ll get that,” he said as he stepped out of the car.
“I got it,” I replied, trying again.
I tried it a few more times as he walked around the front of the car, determined to get it open. There was a part of me that wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t as weak as I seemed. The door would not cooperate. No matter how many times I pulled the handle, it wouldn’t open from the inside. I gave up as he approached the outside, sitting back in the seat and waiting for him to open it.
“I wasn’t trying to be a gentleman.” Devon laughed as I got out of the car. “That handle doesn’t work.”
“That’s good to know,” I said, annoyed that he’d let me make a fool of myself.
The inside of the house was in slightly better condition than the outside. Dark green carpet covered the floor in the living room. There wasn’t a lot of furniture, but the small room looked cluttered. The far wall was taken up by a large wooden entertainment center that housed a small television and various components. Across from it, in front of the large front window, was a metal futon flanked on either side by mismatched side tables.
A man sat on the opposite end of the futon. His dark hair hung limply down to his shoulders and his goatee looked like a used steel wool scrubber glued to his chin. When we walked in, he looked over and grinned. Then he put something to his lips that he held between his thumb and index finger. I couldn’t say conclusively, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a cigarette.
“Hey, D,” the man said. “Didn’t think I’d see you tonight. What’s up?”
“Where’s Lia?” Devon asked.
“Work,” the man answered. “She got called in right after you took off.”
“What about the kid?” Devon looked around. “She’ll be pissed if she finds out you were high when you’re supposed to be watching him.”
“He’s fine.”
“Where is he?”
“Relax, kid.” The man laughed. “He’s at Cindy’s. I’m heading out as soon as Jared gets here so she took him over there before she left.” He took a drag from the joint in his hand and coughed. “God, you’re such a fucking panic attack. Why don’t you sit down and take a hit? It might help you chill the fuck out.”
Devon’s eyes narrowed. “Very funny, asshole.”
The man laughed, putting the joint back to his lips. Devon glared at him for a second before taking my hand and leading me through a doorway into a crowded dining room. Along with the table, there was a desk piled with papers, a few disorganized bookcases, and a buffet that was much too large for the room. To the right of the entrance was an open door that led into a cramped bathroom. I glanced into it as we passed and hoped I wouldn’t have to use it while I was there. It reminded me of something I’d seen in a rundown truck stop when I was a kid. The floor was plyw
ood covered by a dingy off-white bath rug and the wallpaper had brown water stains all over it.
The next room we entered was the kitchen. It wasn’t any better than the bathroom. Dingy, partially broken appliances sat on a cracked linoleum floor. Some of the cabinets were falling apart and the front of the silverware drawer was missing. Like the rest of the house, it was moderately clean, but its dilapidated state made it look dirty.
I followed Devon through a door beside the refrigerator. A green wool blanket hung over the opening. He held it aside for me as I walked inside and then let it drop back into place. To the left side of the door was a hideous washer and dryer set. Scratches and various stickers of cartoon characters marred the ugly pea green finish.
Turning from the laundry area, I looked at the rest of the room. It was about the size of my closet. Along one of the walls was a twin-sized mattress and box spring made up with blue sheets and a green wool blanket that matched the one over the door. Next to the makeshift bed, an overturned milk crate doubled as a nightstand. On the top were a metal lamp, an alarm clock, and an open book with a pair of glasses resting in the spine. Across from the bed, against the wall, was a short three-drawer dresser with more books piled in neat stacks on top and a guitar case leaning against the side. Under the furniture the only stain-free rug in the house covered the cement floor.
“This is your room?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the end of the bed.
“The laundry room?”
He shrugged. “It’s a room.”
“I guess.”
“Have a seat.” He gestured toward the only place to sit down.
I took off my coat and stepped over to the bed. As I sat down, I looked around the room again. I had expected posters of heavy metal bands or half-naked women and a stereo system—something reminiscent of my brother’s room. What I saw was a larger version of his locker. It was probably the most boring bedroom I had ever been in.
“Are all these books yours?” I asked.
