Beautiful Collision

by Tori Alvarez

  Back in high school, Amelia and I did much of our drinking at The Hole. A few places on this side of town never checked IDs. They risked it for the business. Luckily, no one was ever shut down for serving minors. Bartenders knew who was who—one big, dysfunctional, poor family. They served who they knew, never chancing it when an unknown walked into the bar. You had to be introduced by family or a friend before they served you. Another one of Alex’s gifts to me.

  “Nice. At least he’ll come home with cash in hand.” No waiting on a paycheck when there are tips involved.

  “Yup. And I’m taking those fucking tips from him, too.”

  She opens the fridge and grabs four beers. “Come on.”

  I take two of them from her and follow her out of the apartment. She walks to a couple of benches several yards from her door. She sits, folding her legs under.

  “What happens when you graduate? Will you really stay away for good?” Her voice is low even though there is no one around to hear our conversation.

  “Not for good. I have my grandmother. When I can finally afford a place for the two of us, I don’t know. Maybe.” I don’t want to blow smoke up her ass.

  “It’s changing already. Alex doesn’t want you here, and I’m losing my best friend.”

  She’s not exaggerating about the best friend status. We have had each other’s backs throughout the years.

  “The fucking cops are coming,” a whisper yell breaks through the hissing of the spray-paint can. My middle school boyfriend is busy spray-painting his gang symbol on a slide at the neighborhood park.

  Four middle school kids run. My boyfriend grabs my hand, pulling me. “You two head toward 11th street, and we will head toward the paseo. Meet at my place.”

  Amelia and her guy veer off as we continue on our path. Just when we think we are in the clear, a cop car pulls up beside us a block from his house.

  The juvenile detention center was our next stop. I refused to name who was with us or give up any of my friends’ tag names. I’m not a fucking rat. I got a month because it wasn’t my first time breaking city curfew. That and because boys can’t be trusted. The boyfriend admitted it was him and me tagging the bench.

  Amelia stayed out of trouble that night. Her history is clean, no need to hide a juvenile record. At least mine “went away” as soon as I turned eighteen. I’m not naïve enough to think it’s completely gone, but at least it’s not there for easy viewing.

  We have covered for each other our entire lives, it seems, never letting the other fall if we can avoid it. I don’t know how this next phase will work. I want to leave and am ready to say good-bye to everything except her.

  “I know. But we’ll figure something out.” I stay somewhat optimistic, not wanting to think about it yet.

  “I’m still fucking sober. Shot gun.” She pulls her keys out of her pocket, ready to poke the can, waiting for me to agree.

  “Do it,” I encourage her, wanting to be shit-faced and not think of what happens next.

  She pokes the bottom of the first can and hands it to me, then does the same to the next.

  “Go.” We each pull the tabs back and finish a beer in seconds.

  “Not enough.” We click the ones we had already opened and chug them too. We head back into the apartment.

  The night continues with more drinking, games, and conversation. I may not come around often anymore, but I’m known well enough for people to leave me the hell alone. My reputation and familial relations keeps girls and their cattiness quiet.

  

  My eyes open with the usual hangover that accompanies nights out with Amelia. When I’m with her, I’ve never been able to control the amount of drinking we do. It’s like we want to forget the crap around us, so we send ourselves into oblivion. Temporarily, we can ignore the glaring sign of life on the southside.

  I look around the small bedroom she shares with Eddie. I see his arm hanging off the side of the bed as I’m on the hard-ass floor. I have a pillow and blanket, so I’ll be grateful for that. Memories of the night come back, and I really don’t want to be around when Eddie wakes up. He blew up when he got back from The Hole. I don’t remember why he was pissed, but the large amounts of liquid courage I drank had me intervening. At least he knows his place, and if he would have gone after me, he would have had Alex to deal with. Alex has made a name for himself, so no one messes with him or our family.

  I get up, glancing at the bed with my best friend still passed out and the jerk she is hanging onto.

  In my car, I send her a quick text, not wanting her to be worried about me. I open the texts waiting for me.

  Lola: Text or call me if you want to hang tonight

  Garrett: Hello gorgeous! When can I see you again?

  It takes a few moments to decide if I want to respond. The headache wins out, so I close out the texts and drive home. Sleep and a greasy burger are the only things in my immediate future.

  Garrett

  A few of the brothers decided on a hole-in-the-wall bar for cheap beer and liquor, but mainly to avoid all the usual girls wanting to hang all over us. They felt they needed some new meat.

  While the guys are trying their best, trying to impress the ladies enough to take them home, I sit at the bar, only wanting to take one home. Unfortunately, she is nowhere to be found and hasn’t responded to my text, either. The bartender is nice to look at and even pleasant to talk to, so I stick around.

  “No game tonight?” Kevin sits on the stool next to me.

  “Nah. Just not in the mood. This will be my friend tonight.” I lift the beer bottle.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re stuck on Toni?” He’s trying to act casual, but I notice an edge to his question.

  I pause a moment, deciding how I want to approach this.

  “Why would I be?” I shrug, sounding as uninterested as possible. “Shots?”

  He is not too far from drunk. Getting him loose-lipped about Toni may not be too hard.

  “Hell yeah!” he responds.

  I wave to get the bartender’s attention. “Two jager shots, please.”

  Here goes nothing, hoping I don’t get too drunk in the process so I can finagle more information about her.

  A tequila shot and a couple fruity ones the brothers joined in for later and Kevin was ready to begin talking. Luckily, I was able avoid a few by excusing myself to the bathroom.

  “Who do you have your eye on now?” A casual question which is often asked of him. His reputation of going through women is well known in the house.

  “I want to bang the shit out of Leslie in Kappa, but she’s playing hard to get. I may drop her and watch her come crawling back. I know she wants it but thinks I’ll respect her if she waits. Little does she know that as soon as I get her, I’m done. No need in pretending otherwise.” He slurs through his jackass comment which was expected.

  “Are you ever going to keep one around?” I tease him, knowing he won’t settle down—at least, not in the near future.

  “Nah, man. No need. Too much pussy around to play with.” He laughs at the absurdity of monogamy.

  “How do you keep them from clinging?” I know the answer to this, but I have to get him talking and pretend he’s helping me solve a problem.

  “Drop them. You’re too fuckin’ nice.” And there it is. My unease of being a dick to women. This is what gets me in trouble, why they keep coming back thinking there is a chance.

  “I feel guilty, dude. It’s just not my style.” I drop my head on my arms on the bar. If I play like I have no game, he may offer information without me having to ask.

  “That’s why you’re stuck with Toni, dude. You need to let that one go. Don’t get yourself saddled with that one.” His laugh is grating on my nerves as he talks about the girl I’m falling hard for.

  “I haven’t thought about dropping her yet.” My shoulders shrug.

  “I’m telling you. That one is not one to take home to Mama.” He slaps my back firmly. This now has
me wondering what he knows.

  “Not the plan. But what’s wrong with her?”

  “Go by the gentleman’s club off of Walters Road. You’ll understand then.”

  “Huh?” The shock of his statement has me wanting to go now but also wanting to punch the shit out of him.

  He slides off his stool, patting my shoulder. “Just believe me, drop her and drop her fast. I gotta take a piss.” He walks off, leaving me in a stupor.

  Not wanting to believe him, on one hand, but knowing she has been hiding something has me doubting my belief in her.

  The room begins to feel too small for all the people traversing around. She has not responded to my text. She has mentioned a job. I wave at the bartender one last time as I drop money on the counter. There is only one place I need to go now.

  I walk into The Pass Gentleman’s Club. I creep the side, not knowing what I will come face to face with. I scan the place, watching a few waitresses working tables full of men. I don’t see Toni anywhere. I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried she will be coming out onstage. I find an empty table in a dark corner and sit down. I probably look like the worst type of stalker here by myself.

  An overly done waitress stops by the table. “What can I get you, handsome?”

  “Bud Light, please,” I say, not really wanting to drink any more but knowing I can’t take one of her tables without buying something.

  “That’s all?” The perturbed feeling is showing.

  “Yup,” I answer. I’ll leave her a good tip and make it up to her.

  A tall blonde walks out to the stage with some high-energy music. She sways and shakes everything before she jumps on the pole.

  “That’ll be six.” The waitress is back.

  I hand her a twenty. “Keep it.” She smirks before walking away.

  I stay for three more performances before I decide Kevin must have been full of shit. Either that or she may have changed professions.

  I wake feeling worse than I did last night, confused with what she could be hiding and all the damn drinks.

  A glutton for punishment, I send another text.

  How about staying in? Dinner and a movie. I hit send.

  I jump into the shower, hoping it will help me feel human again.

  Chapter 10

  It’s only dinner

  Toni

  My phone has buzzed consistently through the nap I needed after last night’s escapade with Amelia. I haven’t picked it up, not sure I want to face the day or who is on the other end of the texts.

  While I enjoy spending time with Garrett, I know it can lead nowhere. I have nothing to offer him, and he has nothing to offer me. It would be different if there were an arrangement. Then, we would be on the same footing.

  I’m not going back to sleep. No use in pretending. I might as well get up and get something productive done. I take the couple steps to the bathroom, letting the shower heat up, the steam and water washing away the stink of afterparty.

  After the long, hot shower, I decide to check my messages. There are several from Lola, wanting to hit up a club tonight with friends. I text back, letting her know I am in no shape for another night out. She asks who I was out with. I leave it ambiguous and just respond “a couple of old friends.” While I have begun to like her, there is still no way I will admit where I’m from.

  Alex sent a couple, reminding me to stay away from the south side.

  Amelia was worried where I had snuck off to this morning and apologized for Eddie’s behavior—something she does often but doesn’t realize or won’t admit. The only reason I put up with him is because she “loves” him. As soon as that shit is over, I don’t have to play nice anymore. I guess I wouldn’t need to play nice if I stayed away like Alex wants.

  And, of course, there are a couple from Garrett. He’s asked me over for dinner and a movie. It actually sounds good if the meal is homemade. I’ve been eating too much crap lately. The last one is his attempt to sound casual and funny, asking if I am still alive and well.

  This is the trouble with having him around. He is so damn cute, funny, and persistent. As soon as I make my mind up to stay away, here he comes again, breaking through my defenses. It’s almost like he knows they are there and refuses to acknowledge them.

  I should know better and should say no, but a night in with a fun person is better than the Ramen I would be eating alone here in this tiny apartment. Before I can respond, my phone pings again.

  If you don’t want to come here, I can come to you….maybe???

  See, he doesn’t give up.

  Yes, dinner and a movie sounds like a good plan. I can go to you. If that’s ok?

  I hit send, knowing nothing good can come of it but doing it anyway.

  That’s a plan. Come over at 7. Tower apartments #1590 Know them?

  I do know them, and they are very nice apartments. That’s where Kevin lives. How can Garrett afford to live there, too?

  I’ll be there.

  Kevin does not live in that building, so I don’t think I need to worry about running into him. He is one person I don’t want to run into. He knows enough of my secrets. I’m regretting going home with him that night last year. I only did it that once because I fell for his good looks, but I have stayed away since. It wasn’t even an arrangement. I was just horny and wanted a good lay. I thought he would be one, and I was right. Now, he just shows up at the club sporadically. I thought he was older based on the men he is usually with.

  I knock on Garrett’s door, looking around, wondering if he lives with anyone. A roommate would explain how he could afford living here. He opens the door in athletic shorts and a t-shirt. I’m glad I decided on leggings and a loose tee. I was unsure how casual I should dress.

  “Hi!” The smile creeping on my face is impossible to stop. I really am happy to be near him.

  “Hello to you.” His dimple tempting me, I use all my strength not to touch it. “Come in.” He moves to the side and lets me walk by.

  Looking around his apartment, I’m amazed to see the simple décor. It is all really nice, the furniture matches, and it is clean.

  “This is a nice place. Is your roommate here?” I ask, trying to learn more.

  “Thank you. And no. I don’t have a roommate. I’m all alone here.” His smile turns into a sexy smirk.

  “Oh.” I’m confused. The living room and kitchen are so much bigger than my small efficiency. I haven’t even seen the bedroom. No. No, I can’t see the bedroom. He could definitely crash through the defenses if we went there.

  “You sound surprised.” He walks toward the kitchen. I follow.

  “No. I just thought most people had roommates.” I try and save myself.

  “True. And I did, too, for the first couple of years. Last year, I decided I didn’t want to put up with anyone else’s crap, so I got my own place.” He begins stirring what looks like spaghetti sauce in a pan. “But you live on your own, too.”

  “Yes, but my place is a dump compared to this.” The statement flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. No reason to bring my crappy life to his attention.

  “No it’s not.” A sweet smile that reaches his eyes fills his face. “It’s yours and you don’t have to put up with anyone else’s crap, either. I think that’s a win.”

  “Yes. I like having my own space. I sit at one of the stools overlooking his kitchen. “So, how many roommates did you have?”

  “The first year, I was in the dorms with one roommate. I don’t see him as often since he rushed a different frat. The next, I was in the frat house. That was madness. I couldn’t do it anymore, so I talked my parents into this place. All for better grades.” He winks at me.

  I laugh. Even ‘normal’ kids tell white lies to get their way.

  “And you?” He asks in return.

  “I had one roommate my first year. It was horrible. She wanted to party all the time. People in and out of our room. I couldn’t take it, either, so I found a scholarship that would
cover living expenses.” Again, word vomit. Why did I share this?

  “Cool. I didn’t even know there were those types of scholarships.” He takes a pot off the stove and walks it to the sink.

  “Not many. I really had to search,” I added, no need to hide it now.

  “In case you couldn’t tell, spaghetti is for dinner.” He pours the pasta into the strainer. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “Perfect,” I answer honestly. “I haven’t had a good meal in too long.”

  “Well, I’m not sure how good it is, but remember, I tried.” A short, nervous chuckle escapes his lips.

  “It will be fine.” I try and make him feel better for attempting.

  “Do you want a drink?” He looks back from the stove as he is pouring the pasta in the sauce.

  “I’ll take a water, please.” I’m not sure if he wants to drink, but I need to abstain after last night. Still hydrating.

  “Sure. Help yourself. There are bottles in the fridge.” He nods his head in the direction. “Can you pull one out for me, too?”

  I pull two out and place one on the counter close to him. Bottled water is an extravagance I don’t splurge on. I don’t understand it. Water tastes like water to me.

  I watch him. He looks a bit out of sorts in the kitchen, so it makes me even more appreciative of the effort.

  “I need to be honest here.” He looks my way and pauses. “I’m not the best cook. This is one of the only meals I feel comfortable making for another person.” His eyebrows lift with his admission.

  “Then I’m flattered you went through the trouble.” Which is the truth. “Do you eat out all the time?” I’m curious. He does not seem like the type of guy who would eat sandwiches and Ramen on the daily.

  “Thank you. No. I will eat my own cooking, because I’m only subjecting myself to the torture. I keep telling myself if I continue practicing, maybe it will get better.”