by Cora Brent
But…
“Thanks for granting me permission to eat, princess.”
The words were as clear as if they had just been spoken, and with the same vague contempt that had infected them the first time.
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” I asked my steering wheel.
As I rolled out of the parking lot I decided I was abandoning my brand new health regimen and stopped to get something deep-fried from the nearest drive thru. By the time I was done soothing my indignation with junk food I discovered I’d need to rush a little in order to make it to class on time.
Sonora Community College wasn’t a huge, beautiful campus like Arizona State. It was small and functional and populated by people who were always rushing around and full of purpose instead of lounging on one of the grassy areas. I was slightly out of breath when I reached my statistics classroom but I noted with satisfaction that there were still two minutes to spare before the start of class.
There were some empty chairs at the front because, true to form, people had gravitated toward the back rows. I slid into a front row seat near the door. The instructor wasn’t in sight yet so I took the time to check on my email. While I was reading a reminder to pay my vehicle registration fee a creepy feeling overcame me, as if I was being quietly examined.
I thought it was my imagination. So when I glanced up I nearly fell right out of my chair and onto the green linoleum because there was a pair of eyes locked on mine. The eyes were attached to someone unexpected, someone who might be the most unwelcome person to possibly inhabit the chair beside mine in statistics class.
My first instinct was to bolt right the fuck out of there. But I needed this class. It was an easy way to fulfill the math requirement. Plus I’d registered for it months ago. I wouldn’t be the one to leave. If anyone was leaving it was going to be him.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered.
A slow, rather sheepish smile spread across his lips. “Hey, Cassie.”
I didn’t say hello back. Instead I said the words that had been on my mind for the past five years. “Go to hell you callous prick!”
Unfortunately I said them just as the instructor was walking into the classroom. A thickset man in his fifties, he paused and blinked at me behind a pair of glasses that were too small for his fleshy face.
“And what do we have here?” he wanted to know.
What did we have here?
I looked at my unwanted neighbor. He looked back at me.
“Nothing,” I said, calmly removing a notebook from my purse and resolving to absorb something meaningful despite the deafening noise of blood roaring through my head.
As for the aforementioned ‘callous prick’, I didn’t look his way again for the rest of class. Not once.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Parker Neely.
His name can’t even cross my mind without my fists clenching in fury. I always blamed him the most. Even though Kent Lopez was my boyfriend at the time and it could be argued his betrayal was worse. Kent was a thick-headed follower and I knew it. Parker was the architect of the plan that set my humiliation in motion, destroying not only my senior year of high school but the confident, happy teenage girl I’d been. I’d struggled with the aftershocks of that time ever since then. Sometimes I wondered what kind of path I would have taken if Parker Neely hadn’t casually decided to ruin my life one late summer night. I didn’t spend much time on social media and I never cared enough to know what happened to him after high school.
Now here he was.
Sitting right beside me in statistics class.
If I’d brought a sharpened pencil instead of a ballpoint pen I might have been tempted to reach out and stab him with it.
Instead I just kept my eyes trained anywhere but at the seat a mere eighteen inches to my left.
The second the instructor stopped speaking I nearly vaulted out of my seat and dashed out of the room. I was glad I’d worn sensible ballet flats today instead of heels because I didn’t need anything to slow me down.
“Cassie!”
I quickened my stride.
“Cassie!”
I bumped into some guy who materialized from a doorway while studying his phone.
“Cassie!”
Fingers fastened around my elbow and I wrenched away, busting through the doors of the math building.
And then I ran right into a metal bicycle rack.
There was a flash of pain when my right knee made contact with the rack. For a few seconds I was forced to stop moving and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood while I doubled over from the pain. There would be a bruise the size of Kentucky on my leg tomorrow.
“You okay?” The voice was full of concern but it was the last voice I wanted to hear. A hand touched my back while I grimaced and tried to straighten up to a standing position.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth as I limped away from the hand and the voice while silently pleading to the starry skies above to do me a favor, like perhaps cement Parker Neely to the sidewalk in front of the math building so I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore tonight.
“Cassie.”
Nope, there was no one up there in the heavens willing to give a girl a break.
“Cassie.”
“Stop following me!” I shouted, finally turning around to confront Parker Neely’s handsome, disgusting face. The last evening classes had just let out and there were people milling around everywhere. Some of them paused to see what all the racket was about but when they saw I wasn’t being dragged away by my hair they simply went on their way.
Except one man in a suit that was several sizes too small. He was probably in his thirties and his face was full of concern as he asked in a heavily accented voice, “Do you need help, Miss?”
My knee was still throbbing. Parker Neely still existed. And I still just wanted to get the hell out of here for tonight.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said. I pointed at Parker. “This guy just thought he knew me but he was wrong. He doesn’t know me.”
There were plenty of lights on campus so I had a good view of Parker’s repulsively good looks. Same square jaw with a dimple in the center, same chiseled features that had matured into manhood.
“If I did know you,” Parker said. “I’d tell you that you look like a really great girl who I screwed over once upon a time. And I’ve wanted to apologize ever since then.”
It was a bullshit line. Four years had passed since high school graduation and Parker could have picked up a phone or found my parents’ house on any day since then. Parker was pretending to be a good guy now. He was good at pretending. I hadn’t forgotten that.
“That girl would probably inform you you’re not worth the trouble,” I said coldly and limped away. I was thankful that Parker didn’t follow and I managed to reach my car without any further drama.
My heart was thumping in my chest and I took several deep breaths before starting the engine. After a furtive look around to make sure Parker Neely wasn’t hovering nearby I calmed down enough to start the drive home. I thought about calling Cami but she was probably snuggled up with Dalton. Plus I knew my overprotective twin would worry. A long time had passed since either of us had said the name Parker Neely out loud.
“Can I tell you something, Cassie?”
“Of course.”
“It drives me crazy to see you with Kent.”
“Parker, I-“
“Shh, come with me. We can’t talk here. Too many people.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Yes you should.”
I was a little buzzed that night but I knew what I was doing. I chose to forget that my boyfriend of two months, the fun loving if vaguely stupid Kent Lopez, was not the guy I was following to a second floor bedroom.
Parker Neely and I had flirted before but that was all. We ran in the same social circles and always acknowledged each other and yet nothing had ever happened between us. Not until he put an arm around me in a dark co
rner of his backyard in the middle of a raucous party and told me he couldn’t stand to see me with one of his friends.
It was wrong. It was all wrong.
And yet I went anyway.
I kissed him anyway.
I took my shirt off for him anyway.
I got on his bed like he wanted and took his dick in my mouth anyway.
And I liked it.
The rumors would have flown around regardless because plenty of people had seen us go upstairs together. But it all would have just been gossip without the video. The camera was already set up in his room because he’d made a plan. Parker didn’t like anyone else to have something that he wanted. And he was cruel enough to turn it into the worst kind of game. I didn’t know what the hell Parker said to Kent to get him to go along with everything but I heard Kent had to cough up an iPad because that was the cost of the gamble he’d made with Parker. The infamous ‘I Bet Cassie Gentry Will Suck My Dick After One Drink’ wager.
And then there was the viewing party. Cami and I had a ten o’clock curfew so we were long gone from Parker’s house by the time he gathered a crew of his buddies together to see his cinematic masterpiece.
What happened next was predictable. And awful.
It seemed like everyone in school had seen it by Monday morning. The administration cracked down pretty quick. The police got involved. The worst moment came when I was sitting in the principal’s office while my parents listened to Mr. Esperanza’s soft voice summarize the details in the most delicate way he could. My mother buried her face in her hands and cried. My father’s face sagged with heartbreak. There were never any charges filed since the prosecutor’s office was overwhelmed with so many similar cases. My father wanted to sue the shit out of the Neely family but I think that was just because breaking every bone in Parker Neely’s body was illegal. However, a lawsuit would have dragged on for years and no amount of money would make this go away so he let the lawsuit notion drop. Parker was suspended. Not that it mattered. In the high school hierarchy there were too many who thought Parker had done nothing wrong, that he’d merely exposed a cheating slut. Cami stuck right by me of course but a lot of my friends became strangers overnight. The ones who remained seemed to tiptoe around me as if I was either breakable or dangerous. After the initial shock wore off I tried to tell myself everything would be okay. I could be strong. I could weather the storm. Worse things happened to other people every day and they persevered.
The first time I realized I wasn’t really okay was when I started crying in the middle of biology. When my concerned, elderly teacher asked me what was wrong I couldn’t talk, couldn’t summon the words to tell her that the boy sitting behind me kept mimicking the orgasmic soundtrack of the infamous Parker Neely video, starring the clueless and nearly nude Cassidy Gentry.
“Oh god. Yes that feels good, Parker. Yes I’ve always wanted this too.”
I ran out of the room and into the nearest bathroom. Someone was kind enough to track Cami down and let her know I was crouched in one of the stalls sobbing. She took me home. And the next day my stomach was hurting too much to get up and go to school.
My parents took me to doctors of course. Medical ones at first, and then psychologists. I had already dropped my extracurricular activities. Cheerleading was the first one to go. I was granted permission to finish the rest of the school year at home. My mother even set up a desk beside hers in the office where she wrote her romance novels. Cami and I had been looking forward to our senior year forever and I ended up spending most of it hiding in my house. The entire family rallied around me, not just my parents and sisters but all the aunts, uncles and cousins. That helped, knowing that there was a tribe of indomitable people who would be there no matter what. Aunt Truly was especially an angel, finding a reason to stop by every other day, whether it was to bring me a brand new skirt she’d stayed up half the night to sew or deliver a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls to tempt me to eat a little more. Eventually I was able to wake up in the morning without an impending sense of dread. The daily stomach aches, a byproduct of intense anxiety, finally stopped. I felt comfortable enough to cut back my therapy sessions to once every other week. And I managed to graduate with my class, although instead of happily skipping off to a university like my twin sister I opted to remain home while working easy jobs, avoiding relationships and pretending I wasn’t too much of a coward to broaden my horizons.
As for Parker Neely, I never knew what happened to him after high school. If I’d cared I probably could have found out but it was my secret hope that he’d contracted some untreatable chronic disorder. Not a fatal one. I wasn’t that vindictive. Just some minor ailment involving open sores and possible disfigurement would suffice. The fact that I’d found him sitting there in statistics class and looking disturbingly unscathed reminded me how unjust fate could be.
By the time I got home I was still weighing my options. It would probably be too late to find another math class that fit into my schedule for the first summer session. Parker Neely had already robbed me of too much. I wasn’t going to skulk away this time and hide in my bedroom. I wasn’t a shattered teenage girl anymore. I had nothing to be ashamed of. He did.
“Whoa,” said my father when I flung open the front door. “What’s the trouble, Cassie?”
I closed the door behind me with more care than I’d opened it with. “No trouble. Why do you ask?”
“Because that look on your face is identical to the one you had when Cadence cut up your junior prom gown so she could dress as a zombie bride for Halloween.”
“That was five years ago,” I said, trying to smile. “I’ve gotten over it.”
My father muted the television and studied me. He was perceptive and I didn’t want him to guess that something really was bothering me so I faked a yawn.
“Just tired,” I said.
“Right.” He nodded.
“Think I’ll go to bed early.”
“You do that. Maybe we could carpool to work on the days you don’t have class afterwards.”
“Ah, thanks Dad. But I don’t mind driving myself.” It was a tactful way of saying that I preferred to maintain a little independence. My father would never play anything but classic rock on the radio and he freaked if anyone spilled coffee or crumbs on his seats.
“All right then. See you tomorrow, kid.”
“Good night, Daddy.” Impulsively I went over to give him a peck on the cheek. He seemed surprised, but pleased. “Where’s Mom?”
“Kitchen,” he said, unmuting the television. “She thinks I don’t know she’s finishing off the last of your Aunt Truly’s chocolate cake.”
“I heard that!” my mother called from the kitchen.
I smiled and followed the sound of her voice. Saylor McCann Gentry was in the middle of licking some chocolate icing off a butter knife when I entered the kitchen.
“Guilty as charged,” I observed.
She set the knife in the sink and winked at me before opening the fridge and extracting a plate. “Not quite. I saved you a small piece.”
“What about Dad?”
“He doesn’t need any cake. He ate all my Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream for breakfast.”
“And I heard that!” my father shouted from the living room.
“Deny it then, you dairy thief!” my mother shouted back.
He chuckled out loud. This was the way they’d always been with each other; teasing, laughing and so obviously in love that even their children knew they were in the presence of something special.
“Were you limping?” my mother asked with a frown as she stared at my leg.
I flexed my knee. It would be sore tomorrow. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and ran into a bike rack.”
“Ouch.”
“No kidding.”
She smiled. “How’d everything go today?” she asked, supplying me with a fork to eat my cake. “First day of work, first day of class.”
“Good,” I said, choosing
to leave it at that instead of explaining unpleasant things like the Parker Neely Encounter or the Curtis Mulligan Burrito War. “No surprises.”
“I’m glad.” My mother started loading the dishwasher. “Your father is so excited that you took the job at Scratch. He’s always hoped that one of you girls would want to work there someday.”
“It’s just for the summer,” I reminded her.
“Of course,” she responded with a grin as if she knew my plans better than I did.
“How’s the book coming?” I asked. In truth I’d lost track of which book for what series my mother was writing now but it was safe to say there was a book currently in progress because there was always a book in progress.
“It’s coming,” she said. “Any you know what? It’s set in a tattoo parlor, which means I’ll need to hang out at Scratch for a day or two and conduct some research. Actually I should be working right now but I think I’ll slack off tonight and interrupt your father’s television time.”
“Interruptions are always welcome,” he called.
My mother smiled and asked me to please run the dishwasher after I was finished in the kitchen.
“Sure,” I said, forking another bite of chocolate cake.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” my mother asked. She reached out a hand like she was going to feel my head for fever but then, perhaps recalling that I was twenty-two and not five, withdrew.
“I’m fine, Mom. It’s just been a long day.”
“Get some sleep then,” she said and retreated.
For a little while I sat there alone, listening to the sounds from the next room. There was a show on about rehabbing vintage motorcycles. My father’s voice murmured something and my mother laughed. They were nice sounds to hear, reminding me that I had grown up in a happy, sheltered home. But before this home existed other things had to happen first.
