by Cora Brent
Oscar doesn’t let her get far. He catches her from behind and his arms wind around her body, holding her tight against his hard chest.
“Let me go.” She kicks at him.
“Why the hell are you acting like this?”
“Look, I feel like enough of a jackass already. Just leave me alone and maybe Monty can find you a friend to help end your fucking drought.”
He spins her around. Roughly. His hands are on her face and then his fingers are all wound up in her long dark hair. He’s forcing her to look at him even though there’s no light in the sky and she can hardly see his face.
“Damn you, Ren! I can’t just treat you like any girl. You know how many there’ve been? You don’t know because I don’t even know. Not one of them has meant a thing to me except a good time. I’ve been bouncing around from place to fucking place since I can remember. I don’t even have real friends and the only family I have is a woman who forgets who I am most of the time.”
He coughs at the end but relaxes his hold on her. Ren reaches up, finds his lips with her fingers, tracing them.
“I’m your friend,” she whispers. “I’m your family.”
A small groan rips out of his throat. He kisses her. He’s not soft or hesitant like the few other boys she’s kissed. All she can think is my god, my god, my god. She would sink right into the desert floor if he wasn’t holding her up. This, she knows, is how a kiss should be. This is the one she’ll compare all others to for the rest of her life.
A sonic boom of thunder cuts loose overhead and the sky opens up. The storm that had seemed to roll back into the Harquehalas has returned with a vengeance. They are soaked to the skin within seconds but their mouths stay glued together. It seems nothing can conquer the power of that kiss. It is cosmic, it is limitless.
Then a streak of lightning lights up a mesquite tree only a few yards away. The feathery branches are briefly lit by a burst of fire and then just as suddenly the flame is drowned by the rain.
The kiss is over. Oscar grabs her hand and they run all the way back to the house. There’s a narrow patio overhang along the south side of the building and they huddle beneath it but everything is all right because she’s in his arms.
“You should go in,” he sighs, running his lips along her neck.
“I will.” It’s a weak promise. She has no desire to go anywhere.
“Loren.” God, her name never sounded as good as it does coming from his mouth. He gently kisses her forehead, her eyelids. “This changes everything you know.”
“I know.”
“There’s no going back. No matter what.”
“I don’t want to go back, Oscar,” she promises, hugging him stubbornly. She doesn’t even know what it means. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She only knows that she needs him. She feels lightheaded and needs to breathe deeply before she can speak. The words aren’t as hard to say as she thought they’d be.
“I lied from the beginning,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be just friends. I never did.”
He strokes her hair. She hears the smile in his voice. “Good.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
OZ
Loren Savage was never as tough as she pretended to be. I’d figured that out less than five minutes after meeting her. Beneath that know-it-all shell was a vulnerable girl just aching to be loved.
Which I did. Goddammit, I did. Not that it mattered when the world caught fire and a choice was laid at her feet. I don’t know what she really believed or didn’t believe. But she turned her back and cowered behind her train wreck of a family.
And now…
I don’t know who the hell she is. I just know that the second she sees me she looks like all the blood in her body went somewhere else and she might tip over.
Maybe if she does fall over I will catch her.
Maybe I won’t.
Some perverse part of me is glad to see the alarm in her eyes. She probably thinks I’m just here to fuck things up with her stupid show. Ren glances sideways at a creeping cameraman and then looks back at me with what seems like silent pleading.
Yeah, I know they’re there, sweetheart. If you think I give a damn you’ve got another thing coming.
I’m pretty good at playing it cool when it suits me and right now it suits me to act like I’m just here for shits and giggles.
“Are you staying?” she asks.
The tremor in her voice does something to me and it crosses my mind that I ought to cut the crap and just go to her. If I could touch her, just once, I’d know right away whether or not I’m wasting my time. Problem is, I’m not ready to face it if that’s the case. I’ve upended my simple, solitary life to come out here and expose myself to the world.
For her.
I’m just not ready to let her know that.
“I am,” I answer and she tiredly nods like she was expecting that answer but hoping for another one.
There’s no time to say anything else because the most irritating feline shriek in the world crushes all the conversation.
“Oh. My. GOD!” it says as its owner flies out of the house in a cloud of red hair and skin. “Oscar Savage! We thought you were dead!”
It’s Brigitte, the youngest and most obnoxious of the Savage siblings. I didn’t like her five years ago and I don’t like her now, especially not when she wraps her ropy arms around my neck and makes me choke on her perfume. She detaches herself after a quarter of a second and starts howling about how she absolutely can’t believe it and oh my god she’s so glad I’m not dead and oh my god she can’t believe that the earth is really round and that I’m still walking around on it.
Ren remains silent, rooted to the front porch, although I notice she has shifted her attention from me. She’s now glaring at her sister with angry suspicion. She should. After all, someone told that Vogel character more than he ever had a right to know and by the look on her face, that someone sure as hell wasn’t Ren.
“Hey there, Oscar,” says a more timid voice. It belongs to a stacked blonde holding a little kid.
I don’t know her. I wave half-heartedly. Never mind, I do know her. It’s Ren’s other sister, the one who was always walking around with her teenage tits hanging out and waiting for someone to notice them.
“Hey, Ava.” I greet her with a smile because I don’t remember her being awful. Kind of lonely and needy but generally a good kid. The only ones in this ridiculous family I could stand to be in the same room with for five minutes were Ava and her twin brother, Spencer. And Ren of course. The rest of them were generally pains in the asses. Brigitte with her scheming seemed destined to be a carbon copy of her witchy mother. August kind of lost himself in his own hazy fantasies and generally couldn’t hold a conversation. And Montgomery, Ren’s older brother, always skulked around spoiling for a fight just for the sake of fighting, not because he gave a shit whether he won or not.
Once we’ve said our awkward hellos, things kind of come to a standstill. Ren disappears into the house without another word, Ava on her heels. Brigitte sighs and wanders purposefully toward the scenic backdrop for some meaningful modeling.
I would grab my bags out of the truck but no one ever gave me any hints about where I’ll be staying. Atlantis looks pretty much the same as is ever did, a fake town that some rich guy bought as a souvenir. A sturdy-looking barn has replaced the dilapidated building that I remember. The brothel has crumbled a little more, the phony jail is more rusted, the church seems like it’s one sigh away from pitching over into the dirt.
The only really nice building is the main house and it looks like someone has been keeping it up okay. But overall, Atlantis Star doesn’t look like the kind of place anyone would brag about so once again I wonder about what kind of ideas that Vogel character has.
I still don’t know what the hell the point of this show is. Was the whole pack of Savages lured out to this bad memory just to be made fun of? Gloated over? And are they all so goddamn desperate not to have to earn a
n honest living that they fell for it?
“Oz!” hails a voice and suddenly there’s some middle aged woman with bouncy implants heads my way. She’s not familiar so either she’s part of the crew or some other long lost Savage.
I was right on the first count. Her name is Cate Camp and she’s part of Team Gary. She fluffs her brassy blonde hair, describes her role here as something more than a director but less than a therapist, Ha ha.
She actually laughs just like that; HAHA, two staccato bursts of artificial personality. She’s trying to get me to like her because someone in Reality Television School probably told her if she wins over the cast they’ll be more likely to spill a thousand and one of their darkest secrets. Nothing about her interests me but I’m trying for minimal civility until I can figure a few things out.
So instead of silence or profanity I give her a series of one-word answers.
Cate Camp says, “You’ve traveled a long way.”
I say, “Yes.”
Cate Camp says, “And you haven’t had any contact with the family at all these past five years.”
“Yes.”
“You spent a summer here and left shortly after the death of your adopted mother.”
“Yes.”
Cate Camp shows me her un-Botoxed frown lines. She’s displeased with me. “From what I hear you left under bad circumstances.”
“Yes.”
Cate Camp goes for the throat. “And all the trouble was due to an inappropriate relationship with one or more members of the family.”
Now I’m done answering her questions.
Cate Camp gets suddenly maternal, patting my arm lightly and lowering her voice even as she silently signals the nearest Camera Creep to get ready. “It has something to do with Loren, is that right? The tension was obvious between you two. She wasn’t exactly dancing for joy when she saw you, now was she? No, she looked at you like you were the last man on earth she wanted to see. Oh Oz, nobody could blame you for whatever happened. You were just a kid. And they threw you out into the world like you were nothing, didn’t they? After all, you’re not really one of them. You’re not; you know that. So tell us. Tell us how that makes you feel.”
What a fucking joke. She’s going to have to be a lot more cunning than that to get a rise out of me. I act like she didn’t say anything. I grab my duffel bag out of the truck and look around.
“So what are the sleeping arrangements here, boss?”
Frown lines etch themselves deeper into other frown lines. Cate Camp isn’t good at her job. She has no patience for anyone who doesn’t immediately cooperate with her. The frown lines would dissolve if I would punch a fist into my palm and spill my guts about everything that happened but I’m about as likely to do that as I am to start square dancing.
She points to a run down trailer-like structure. “Your remember your old quarters?”
“Yeah.” I give no hint that I’m surprised. Of course they already know the details of that summer, all the details.
Cate Camp snaps her fingers at the Camera Creep so he’ll follow me as I trudge off in the direction of the brothel, toward the little house that still sits behind it.
Gary Vogel has a hell of a lot of money backing him up. He could have set the show in posh California quarters. Or at the very least he could have sprinkled some of those resources over Atlantis Star to make the place slightly less dilapidated. But what the hell would be the fun in that? I have a bad feeling it’s all intentional. Of course it is. There’s nothing more American than a sordid tale of celebrity ruin.
The structure that squats behind the brothel is the old caretaker’s house. It was all right when I stayed here. The air conditioner wasn’t really enough to deal with the thin walls and living with Monty was like rooming with a wolverine. But other than that, it was fine. It actually doesn’t look much different and a wave of nostalgia sweeps over me. I’ve passed through dozens of places in my life and rarely thought of any of them as home. Something about being back here leaves me feeling a little out of sorts though. I suppose I knew that would happen all along. If this place didn’t mean a thing to me I wouldn’t have come.
No one answers my polite knocks. There’s a camera trained on me, of course, but I’ve already decided not to even think about that. After all, I have no intention of watching whatever kind of strange brew they turn into a so-called show.
The doorknob turns in my hand and since I don’t feel like standing out here in the heat all day I have no qualms about going inside.
“Hello?” I call.
Someone spiffed up the inside of the place. I know Spencer lives at Atlantis full time but the leather couch, hipster wall prints and turquoise accents don’t seem like things he would choose.
No one answers me but in a few seconds I can see I’m not alone. Well, I’m never alone now. The Camera Creep comes slithering through the doorway after me and I know there are fixed cameras installed all over the place. I was told that the crew tails us in shifts for about twelve hours a day and the fixed cameras pick up anything else that might be exciting. Maybe I should have asked Cate Camp if they’re everywhere, even in the bathrooms, but then again maybe I’d rather not know. If someone really finds it interesting to watch me brushing my teeth and taking a shit, then we as a people have probably fallen off the evolutionary abyss.
It’s not just the Camera Creep keeping me company. Not six feet in front of me is Montgomery Savage. He’s sprawled in a chair. He’s got no shirt on, a web of dark ink on his body and his pants are open. His bleary eyes try to shift into focus. Then they widen. “The fuck are you doin’ here?”
“I’m not here,” I say, dropping my bag. “You’re dreaming.”
Monty utters a grumpy string of curses and rolls out of the chair, finally straightening up and glaring at me like he’s an angry bull and I’m standing here with a red blanket screaming ‘Toro!’ He’s pretty ripped, more than he used to be, and it’s obvious he’s been roughed up by life. But I would bet that I could take him down if I needed to. I’d rather not though. We’re not fucking teenagers anymore.
Luckily, Monty seems to settle down after a few seconds. He pats his pockets and finds a pack of cigarettes there, lighting up and looking me over coolly.
“Jesus,” he says with a short, humorless laugh, “I wonder who else will come crawling out of the fucking woodwork.”
“Yeah, I’m glad to see you too, Monty.”
He puffs on his cigarette while I look around. Monty probably isn’t going to make things any easier, or more pleasant. I’d rather just stay out of his way.
“So is there anyone else home?”
Monty shrugs. “Spence is jerking off in the creosote somewhere. The girls are probably in the big house.”
“I saw them already.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
I look him in the eye. “It is.”
The last time I spoke to Monty Savage we had a difference of opinion. I thought he ought to mind his own goddamn business and he thought I needed to get acquainted with his fists. I wasn’t about to be taken down by some Hollywood pretty boy no matter whose brother he was so I gave it right back to him, like I usually did. We both came out of the scuffle rather worse for the wear with no clear winner. He’d gotten in the last parting shot though.
“You go near my sister again and I’ll fucking kill you.”
A few hours after that all hell broke loose and whatever I’d thought I was to these people didn’t matter. They were more than ready to toss me in the dumpster. Even Ren. Maybe she had her reasons but I’ve never understood how they could have led her to do what she did. People didn’t connect the way we’d connected and then lose it all just like that.
Anyway, whatever else I have to say about Monty, he cares about his family in his own way. That’s why I decide to hold my tongue and not fire back some snappy retort that would piss him off. If I’d ever had a sister I probably wouldn’t like any guy who messed around with her e
ither.
“I guess you can take the back room,” Monty says, turning his back to me as he runs a hand through his black hair. “I wondered why someone got it all cleaned up. I guess I should have known.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and start to head down the narrow hallway.
“Hey, Oscar.”
I turn around.
Monty Savage is giving me his best and most dangerous scowl. I have to admit it is effective. “If you’re here to cause any trouble for her, you and me are gonna throw down.”
I’m not in the mood to cave to him. Or to give any assurances. Let him stew for a while and wonder what I’m up to. So all I say is, “I expect we will.”
It’s the same room I stayed in five years ago. It’s small and square and someone decorated it in retro southwestern style. I close the door in the face of the Camera Creep but I’m sure they have other ways to watch me.
Even though it’s hotter outside than it is inside I crack open a window. There is all kinds of nervous energy running through me even though I get nervous about as often as I turn my head and cough.
Ren was obviously shaken by the sight of me. Part of me wants to go barreling into the big house right this minute and make her even more uncomfortable. Another part of me feels kind of sorry for the way her face paled and her hands trembled. I’ll give her a little space, for now. But only for a little while.
Because I’m here. And she’s going to have to deal with me whether she likes it or not.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
REN
Ava chatters away about the gourmet spaghetti she’s going to make for dinner even though dinner is hours away. She grabs mismatched pots out of the kitchen cabinets and let Alden smack them against the terra cotta tiles.
There is no mention of the fact that Oscar Savage has materialized. It should be a subject worth discussing even if she knows nothing about what happened between me and Oscar five years ago. And I’m sure she knows something. She’s trying to distract me from the full tilt freak out that threatens to erupt.
