They didn’t talk much, but every so often she’d catch Jarrett looking her over with a faint, approving smile. When they reached Meadowbrook Drive, Jarrett made a left and then parked in the driveway of an impressive, colonial-style home. He invited her in.
“That’s okay; I’ll wait in the car.”
“Come on in. I want to introduce you to my parents.”
Honored and scared at the same time, Holland unlocked her seatbelt and took a deep breath. She hadn’t planned on trying to make a good impression on Jarrett’s parents, but refusing to meet them would be extremely rude.
Jarrett’s house was very neat and furnished expensively. His football trophies were on display all over the living room.
“Be right back; I have to run upstairs and grab my charger.” After Jarrett went upstairs, Holland admired his sports awards, team pictures, and trophies.
She gazed at the portraits of the Sloan family through the years. They were a good-looking family, and their picture-perfect image gave her a twinge of envy. She missed her dad—missed being part of a regular, nuclear family.
Carrying his charger, Jarrett trotted back down the stairs.
“Where are your parents?” Holland asked.
“I thought they were here, but I guess they went to pick up my little brother from his friend’s house. They’re on the same football team and tonight their team had a scrimmage and a pizza party.”
“Your little brother plays football, too?”
“Yeah, we’re an athletic family. We call my little brother the triple threat,” Jarrett said proudly. “He’s only twelve and he’s the star player of his middle school’s football, baseball, and basketball teams.”
“Wow!” Holland couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“My mom is a tennis instructor, my dad played football in college, and I’ve been playing football since second grade. I shoot a mean game of hoops, too!”
“I’ve never seen so many trophies! How many do you have—like a hundred?”
Jarrett laughed and shrugged. “Too many to keep track of. There are more in the recreation room, downstairs.” He grabbed her hand and led her toward the stairway. She followed him down the stairs to the basement.
The Sloans’ recreation room was impressive. There was a ping pong table, a pool table, electronic games, and the largest flat-screen TV that Holland had ever seen. There was a showcase in the family room that displayed the entire family’s sports trophies and plaques.
As Holland gazed at the dazzling exhibit of sports proficiency, Jarrett plugged the charger in a nearby outlet and set it on the pool table.
How did I get so lucky? Holland wondered as she stole a glance at Jarrett.
Wearing what looked like a bashful smile, he paced toward her. Her heart skipped several beats when he stood close to her—so close, she could feel the heat of his body. She had a sort of electrical reaction when he draped his arm around her shoulder—her skin seemed to sizzle.
“You’re really pretty, Holland.” Jarrett’s voice was low-toned and amorous.
Blushing, she mumbled a thank you. A new haircut, a revamped wardrobe, and now the boy of her dreams was doling out compliments. Life was incredibly good!
Jarrett pressed against her and kissed her neck. “That tickles,” Holland said, smiling and inching away. He enveloped her in his arms and a mild shock went through Holland’s body. She inhaled slowly to calm her thumping heart.
“Why do you keep running from me, Holland? I really like you.” His voice felt like a soft kiss, and when he placed his thumb beneath her chin, and turned her face toward his, Holland didn’t resist.
Jarrett’s kiss was tender and sweet. She melted inside his arms, loving the feeling of his hands caressing her back. His hands glided downward and moved to the front of her jeans. His fingers groped at the button in front. He unsnapped her pants and began sliding them down over her hips.
Holland was so lost in the kiss, so entranced by the intimacy of his touch, she wasn’t aware of what was happening until she felt Jarrett’s insistent hands tugging on the elastic band of her panties.
“No. Stop.” She pulled away and slid her jeans up and snapped them closed.
“Okay, I’ll behave myself,” Jarrett promised. He gave her a faint smile and kissed her again. This time his warm tongue parted her lips and his tongue intertwined with hers. When he slipped his hand under her shirt, Holland broke the kiss.
“It’s way too soon for this, Jarrett.”
“I’m sorry. I keep getting carried away.”
“If we’re going bowling, shouldn’t we be on our way? I can meet your parents another time.”
“What’s wrong, Holland?” he asked, reaching out, attempting to pull her close again.
Holland stepped out of his reach. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . . well, it’s just that we’re still getting to know each other.”
“You like me, and I like you. So, what’s the big deal?”
She scrunched up her face. “Aren’t you sort of seeing Chaela Vasquez?” She hadn’t meant to bring up Chaela, but the words tumbled out before Holland could stop them. Now that she had spoken, she was relieved. She wanted to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth whether or not he was still going out with Chaela.
“Chaela and I are over. We broke up a few weeks ago. You don’t have to worry about her. I’m trying to get to know you better, Holland. Are you going to let me?”
“Wh-what about your parents? Aren’t they on their way home?”
“No.” He looked at his phone. “My mom sent me a text. My lil’ bro’ is staying the night at his friend’s house and she and my dad are going out with a few of their friends.”
Jarrett sounded sincere, and the way he was looking at Holland was causing her resolve to weaken—making her melt.
“You’re so pretty,” he said, giving her a kind of smoldering look that made her feel like the most desirable girl in the world. He enfolded her in his arms; his lips brushed against her hair . . . her forehead and her cheeks.
Jarrett cupped her face and kissed her, his tongue driving deeply inside her mouth. He moved his hands to her breasts and she didn’t fight him off. She shuddered in excitement as his thumbs massaged her nipples. Jarrett’s hands moved downward, nearing her thighs.
Then his hands got busy, working on the front of her jeans, again. She didn’t try to stop him. She’d never imagined losing her virginity like this, but why not? She was one of the last virgins at her school. She told herself that losing her virginity to a hunk like Jarrett Sloan was something to be proud of. This time when her pants glided over her hips, she didn’t yank them back up. She didn’t utter a word of complaint. Filled with anticipation, she trembled as Jarrett guided her down to the fluffy rug on the floor.
Jarrett came out of his shirt swiftly. Holland timidly removed her top and placed it on the seat of a chair. She kicked her jeans from around her feet, and Jarrett had already shoved his pants down to his ankles when the doorbell began ringing persistently.
Holland grabbed her jeans. “Is that your parents?” she whispered, quickly sticking a leg into her pants.
“No, they’d use their key.” Jarrett’s voice sounded shaky. His cell phone that was charging on the pool table began chiming. Wearing only a pair of briefs, he got up and retrieved his phone. Worry lines creased his forehead as he stared down at a text message.
“Holland, you have to get out of here. Chaela’s at the door,” Jarrett said with panic in his voice.
“But you guys broke up. Can’t you just ignore her?” In Holland’s mind, Jarrett was now her boyfriend and she was feeling territorial.
“No, I can’t ignore her. And you have to go. Seriously! Chaela will explode if she catches us together.”
“B-but you said . . . You said you two broke up.”
“Yeah, we did. But now she’s saying that she wants to work it out.” His phone rang. He cut an eye at the phone and then glared at Holland. “I’m not
kidding; you have to get out of here, Holland.” Jarrett’s eyes were cold and hard.
Holland gawked at him. “You really want me to go home? You can’t seriously expect me to walk across Burke’s Highway at this time of the night!”
“Look, I’m sorry, but you have to understand.” Jarrett held up a palm.
“One minute you’re acting like you’re into me, and the next minute, you’re treating me like trash. I don’t get it.” Holland’s voice cracked with emotion. With a little whimper, she grabbed her top and pulled it over her head. The lump that had formed in her throat felt as large as an apple. Humiliated, she wriggled back into her jeans; all the while the doorbell kept chiming, and Jarrett’s ring tone kept going off.
Impatiently, he grabbed Holland by the arm and physically dragged her toward the basement door.
“Jarrett!” Holland whimpered his name in disbelief as he opened the door and shoved her out.
“See you around.” Jarrett’s facial expression was hard and unapologetic.
Before Holland could utter a response, Jarrett closed the door. Right in her face!
The backyard was brightly illuminated, showing off wind chimes, a tree house, colorful flower beds, rose bushes, and a cobblestone walkway that was lit with fancy, garden lights.
Shocked and mortified, tears shimmered in Holland’s eyes. She prepared herself for the trek from his backyard to the front of his house, which would lead to Burke’s Highway. Suddenly, all the lights in the back went out.
Why, Jarrett? Why? Holland wondered as she stood alone in the pitch darkness. She usually enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the night, but not now—not under these circumstances.
Horribly humiliated and shrouded in unrelenting gloom, Holland felt like she was in the midst of an outer body experience. This can’t be happening!
A neighbor’s dog began barking vigorously, startling Holland, causing her heart to lurch. Expecting to be attacked by a vicious dog, she pressed her back against Jarrett’s back door, shuddering in fear.
Only a few feet away, inside the recreation room, she could hear Chaela’s voice as she grilled Jarrett about his whereabouts.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Chaela hissed.
“I fell asleep.”
“That’s a lame excuse, Jarrett, and I don’t believe you. What the hell were you doing that was more important than me?” Chaela screamed.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Chaela. I’m sorry, baby,” Jarrett replied in a soothing tone.
Holland couldn’t bear to hear any more. Risking being mauled by a dog, she crept into the deep shadows. With trembling legs, she crossed the lawn and made her way to the main street.
What just happened? Holland asked herself after getting her bearings. I almost lost my virginity to a jerk! Jarrett and Chaela were the most self-absorbed, awful people on the planet. They deserved each other. And when she saw Jarrett at school, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of even looking his way!
Holland was indignant. But she was also hurt and ashamed. Bitter tears stung her eyes, and she couldn’t hold them back any longer. Crying softly, she walked along Meadowbrook Drive.
Unfamiliar with Jarrett’s neighborhood, she wandered in circles for a while. The upscale neighborhood was hushed and serene; there was no one around to ask directions.
Holland kept ending up on dead-end streets as she tried to find her way to Burke’s Highway. Sniffling and crying, she wondered how she could have been so foolish to think that Jarrett was interested in a D-lister like her.
After circling the luxury development for what seemed like an eternity, she found herself back on Meadowbrook Drive.
She heard an engine, and out the corner of her eye, she spotted Jarrett’s Durango. Chaela had taken over Holland’s spot in the passenger seat. Fervently wishing that she were invisible, Holland lowered her head in mortification as she moved along the tree-lined street.
She cringed when she heard Chaela’s taunting voice. “You’re on the wrong side of the tracks, loser!”
The Durango accelerated, and the sound of Chaela’s malicious laughter echoed in the wind. Humiliated twice in the same night, Holland wondered if her life could get any worse.
Following the same route that Jarrett and Chaela had taken in the Durango, Holland was relieved when Burke’s Highway came within view. The loud roar of traffic reminded her how difficult maneuvering across the busy highway would be.
Picking up her pace, she walked hurriedly, wanting desperately to get home where she could cry her heart out in the privacy of her bedroom.
A horn honked. Reflexively, Holland looked in the direction of the sound. She squinted at the dark-colored Buick and was surprised to see her mother’s client, Rebecca Pullman, sitting behind the wheel.
“Get in, Holland. I’ll give you a ride home,” Ms. Pullman said in an anxious voice.
Relieved that she didn’t have to cross the busy and dangerous highway, Holland hurried over to the car. Her hand was on the handle, ready to pull open the door, when she noticed an odd look in Ms. Pullman’s eyes. There was something that Holland could only describe as hunger radiating in the woman’s eyes. Filled with sudden dread, Holland instinctively let go of the handle and backed away.
“Uh . . . no thanks, Ms. Pullman. I prefer to walk.”
“Don’t be silly; get in. It’s not safe for you to walk alone at night.” Rebecca Pullman fixed an intense gaze on Holland. She attempted a smile, but her mouth twitched, betraying what Holland interpreted as creepy behavior.
Recalling how the woman had come into her bedroom, Holland wondered if the stunningly gorgeous woman was gay.
“I’m trying to help you, Holland. Now get in the car,” Rebecca Pullman said in a disturbingly gruff tone.
Frightened and distrusting everyone at this point, Holland took off running.
Holland dashed through traffic, causing a commotion as horns beeped and tires screeched.
For the remainder of the walk home, Holland was uneasy, casting suspicious glances at everyone she passed. In her own neighborhood, Holland still didn’t relax. She kept looking over her shoulder, hoping that Rebecca Pullman hadn’t followed her.
Trotting up the steps to the front door, Holland’s shabby little home had never looked so good. “Hey, Mom, I’m home,” she yelled and rushed to her room. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight not to tell her mother about her date with Jarrett. Had she divulged that information, she’d be getting grilled by her mother right now. She could hear her mother, now: ‘How’d it go, hon? Did you have a good time? Are you going out again?’
Tomorrow, she’d tell Naomi every dreadful detail of her degrading experience with Jarrett, but she couldn’t tell her mother. There were some things that a girl simply didn’t share with her mother.
I’m so stupid. I almost had sex with that lying, no good Jarrett. Ugh! I hate him; he’s such a pig! And I hate Chaela, too!
Inside the confines of her bedroom, Holland pressed her face into her pillow and surrendered to terrible, gut-wrenching, body-wracking sobs.
CHAPTER 15
Flavors drifting from the kitchen awakened him as usual. But the aromas smelled more like pig guts than his normal morning meal. Downstairs the odor was stronger, reminding him of sewage.
“What’s that smell? Don’t tell me another critter done crawled up in the walls and died,” the farmer said grouchily as he entered the kitchen, sniffing at the air.
“I don’t smell anything, Walter.” His wife rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and then placed his big, country breakfast before him: a cup of steaming coffee, a glass of orange juice, four sunny-sides up eggs, six strips of bacon, a slice of ham, grits and cheese, and fried potatoes with Vidalia onions—handpicked from their fields.
Having the appearance of an award-winning country breakfast, the food was attractively arranged on the plate and cooked to perfection.
Walter sniffed his plate. “Are these eggs rotten?”
His wife reared back in indignation. “Walter! What’s gotten into you? You know I wouldn’t serve you spoiled food.”
He stabbed the slice of ham with his fork. “Maybe the meat went bad.”
“The meat is fresh,” his wife snapped, clearly irritated.
“Something’s wrong, Angie. I’m not crazy. This food is reeking; I can’t eat it.” He shoved the plate away from him and picked up the glass of orange juice. He took a sip. Frowning, he spat the juice back into the glass.
“Walter!” his wife shrieked.
“You’re trying to poison me, aren’t you? What’d you do . . . put arsenic in my food?”
“I don’t have to listen to your crazy ranting. You’ve been acting like a crazy man ever since you got back from that convention in Miami. You should see a doctor about that bite on your shoulder. The dog that nipped you might have been carrying rabies.”
Walter’s cheeks were flushed with anger. “I don’t have any goddamn rabies. Don’t try to wiggle your way out of this, Angie! Are you trying to kill me?”
Angie looked aghast. “No, of course not. I’m merely suggesting that you go see a doctor and check out that dog bite. Why would you try to pick up a stray animal in the first place?”
Walter pounded his fist on the table. “I told you why . . . the dog was on the side of the road, limping and hurt.”
“That dog has infected you, Walter. Something’s not right.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not right . . . the way you’re trying to collect on my insurance policy ain’t right.”
“That’s it; I’m not listening to another vicious word out of your mouth. It’ll be a snowy day in hell before I slave over the stove for you again. You can starve for all I care!” Angie yanked Walter’s plate off of the table and slammed it on the kitchen counter. She tore off her apron and flung it on the floor. Indignant, she fled the kitchen.
Walter started to go after her. He wanted to apologize for losing his temper. Accusing his wife of trying to poison him was insane. Angie was right; he needed to see a doctor. But how would he explain what had really happened without implicating himself in the murder of an insane Haitian refugee?
Midnight Cravings Page 9
