Playing with Fire_Shen

by Shen, L. J.

  “I’m not doing that anymo—”

  “Spare me the bullshit. I have copies of these videos all over my cloud. These videos are recent. That’s your new gig, now that you can’t get into the ring anymore. I’ll make sure this is all over YouTube and on the sheriff’s desk by nighttime if you don’t listen very carefully. Now, I’ll ask again—half the money from the fight, plus a promise you never get close to my people. Ever. That especially applies to Grace Shaw. If I hear you as much as farted in her direction, I will kill you twenty-six times, a death for each of your birthdays. Am I clear?”

  His throat worked, his jaw moving back and forth. Whatever he was stoned on had worked its way out of his system completely. He was clearheaded now and aware of the massive pile of shit I’d just dumped at his feet.

  “I mean it,” I growled. “I threw one fight for you. I will not extend my good intentions beyond that. I will kill you if you harass her.”

  “If I do this, I’ll want those videos back.” He stabbed his finger against the table.

  Didn’t this schmuck know how the internet worked?

  “I’m keeping the videos as a guarantee,” I said, point-blank.

  “How do I know you won’t flip your shit on me?”

  “A—because I’m a man of my word.” At least, I was going to be. I’d been shitty about keeping up with my promises. But that was about to change. “And B—because no part of me wants your newborn daughter to grow up with a daddy who’s in jail, even though that’s exactly where you belong. So if I walk away from here after being assured you’ll be getting a legal job, stop the dog fighting, provide for your ex, and leave me and mine alone, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  I sounded like the morality police, but the truth was, uncovering everything that went down in the last few years at the Plaza was going to drag all of us into shit, and deep down, I believed in second chances.

  I didn’t trust Kade Appleton a hundred percent. But that was why I had Max. He was going to keep an eye on him. Make sure he was keeping up his end of this bargain.

  Kade looked away. “Fine. Fuck.”

  “I’ll expect that money in my mailbox in the next twelve hours. Oh, and, Kade?”

  I stood up. He turned his head to face me reluctantly. My mouth quirked.

  “I mean it. If I hear there was a dog fight with your name on it, or that you got anywhere near my people, I’m killing you, and that’s a promise I won’t break.”

  Grace

  West and I went for coffee every day that week. Always at the same place—the little diner on the outskirts of town, where Grams went the night he helped me.

  They didn’t even have my kind of coffee. I liked cappuccino, which wasn’t on the menu. I noticed West wasn’t touching his filter coffee either. We were just bracketing our cups with our hands, talking.

  We talked about everything, other than us.

  About how his parents made him swear he wouldn’t fight again, and he’d agreed—and that this time, he intended not to break his word.

  About my upcoming visit to Grams on Saturday. How she was adjusting well to the nursing home, even though she had her ups and downs. It had been a struggle to get her to the CT test, but Nurse Aimee called to tell me that by the end of the day, Grams was so exhausted that she went to bed at seven and woke up the next morning brand-new, singing along with Ethel in the breakfast room.

  She was now being medicated, and even though it was going to take time to find the right medicine and doses that would work for her, it was a start.

  I loved spending time with West. Just talking and laughing, rebuilding what had been broken that day in the cafeteria. And it wasn’t just our daily coffee that pieced my heart back together. West had made it a point to pick me up from my house for school every day—even on days our schedules weren’t aligned—and waited for me outside my lectures.

  The new auditorium theater was finally ready, and we moved our final rehearsal into the massive newly built hall.

  West carried my backpack and laughed at my jokes, even when they weren’t funny. When I showed up at the cafeteria, taking a seat next to Karlie, he somehow materialized out of thin air to sit beside us. He didn’t even seem to mind when all we talked about was nineties shows. He was content just spending time with me.

  It was sweet.

  And romantic.

  It made me want to kill him.

  “I want to strangle him,” I confessed to Karlie the day before A Streetcar Named Desire’s premiere. I truly did. Wholeheartedly. Which was ironic, because I got so freaked out when it was Kade Appleton who’d almost ended his life.

  “You’ll need to be more specific. Even though I’m not his biggest fan, he hasn’t done anything shitty recently. Definitely nothing to inspire murdering him.” Karlie flipped through a thick textbook, highlighting the hell out of it.

  I plopped down next to her on her bed, blowing a lock of hair out of my face. I was no longer wearing ball caps. Just a healthy amount of makeup. It felt extremely liberating, both for my body temperature and scalp.

  “He’s actin’ like the perfect boyfriend.” I groaned.

  “Yuck!” Karlie pretended to gag. “How dare he? The bastard.”

  “But he is not my boyfriend. He hasn’t asked me out. We haven’t discussed our relationship ever since he got out of the hospital. We’re just … platonic.”

  The word tasted like acid in my mouth. I didn’t regret the fact we’d broken up. But I didn’t understand why he insisted on spending time with me and didn’t make any move to become anything more. The ball was in his court now. He was the one who needed to figure out if he was ready for this commitment, and I made it clear to him at the hospital.

  “Maybe he is treading carefully. He screwed up pretty royally when you were together,” Karlie suggested, capping her yellow marker and producing a green one. She had a highlighting system that made her textbooks look like a rainbow.

  “Maybe he is just tryin’ to make it up to me. Maybe this whole thing is just him being nice to me before he finally graduates and moves away.”

  It was West’s last semester before graduation. Technically, he could be out of Sheridan as soon as next month. Nothing kept him here anymore.

  The thought made me break out into a cold sweat.

  Karlie noticed and slammed her textbook shut, scooting over next to me, wrapping an arm over my shoulder.

  “Dang, you really love him, don’t you, Shaw?”

  I closed my eyes, nodding.

  “I don’t know what to do, Karl,” I whispered. “I can’t move away from the Austin area. Grams is here. But watchin’ him go …” I tried to take a breath but couldn’t suck in enough air. “Watchin’ him go is going to be the end of me.”

  Karlie rubbed my arm, perching her chin over my shoulder.

  “Sorry, Gracie-Mae. That’s what you get for playing with fire.”

  Grace

  The morning of the big premiere, I woke up to a text message from West.

  West: Check your front door. See you tonight (I got a front row seat).

  Giddy, I padded barefoot to my door and opened it. There was a huge basket full of pastries, freshly brewed coffee, and flowers. I had no idea where he’d gotten something like this. You certainly couldn’t buy it here, in Sheridan. He’d either had it delivered from a nearby town or made it himself from scratch. I brought it into the house and put it on the kitchen table, noticing there were numerous cards in it.

  I plucked the first card out.

  So proud of you, honey pie.

  Then. Now. Forever.

  Your number one fan.

  —Marla.

  I flipped the card around. It was written on the back of a picture of Marla smiling to the camera, both her grandchildren sitting in her lap, the palm trees and ocean her backdrop. I grinned. She was having so much fun in Florida.

  I took out the second card.

  You removed the flame ring and became your own fire.

&nbs
p; Thank you for teaching me strength.

  —Karlie.

  I turned the card. It was a picture of both of us hugging and smiling for the camera. What I loved about it, more than anything else, was the fact that this picture was taken after the fire. In fact, it was the only picture I’d agreed to take with Karlie since I’d gotten my scars. I had my old, gray ball cap on. I knew why Karlie chose this photo. It was the new me, before I’d upgraded to my current version.

  Yes, I was scarred, and looked a little different, but I was no less worthy.

  I took another card.

  Vivien Leigh got nothing on your ass.

  #SlayTonight!

  —Tess.

  And another.

  Good luck tonight, Grace.

  Your boyfriend sure knows how to make a grand gesture.

  Reality is overrated. Say yes to magic.

  —Professor McGraw.

  My tears and mirth blended together, and I wiped my face and nose, laughing uncontrollably.

  Proud of you, Shaw.

  (for the record, I knew you had acting chops the day you pretended to be interested in me to get back at Jackass St. Claire).

  —Easton.

  And also this surprising card:

  Grace,

  Sorry I was a tool.

  Thanks for not being a tool back.

  —Reign.

  There was one card left. It was the one I’d been waiting for. I removed it from among the croissants, muffins, and cookies.

  I’ll walk through fire for you.

  Love you.

  —Your old flame.

  I turned the card over. It was a picture of me I hadn’t recognized. Maybe because I’d never noticed when he took it. We were in the food truck. I was wearing my pink ball cap, laughing, my eyes closed, holding a slushie, biting the tip of the straw.

  I remembered that moment. He’d been lying on the floor, looking up at me like he was stargazing. I’d felt beautiful. Vibrant. Alive.

  Why did you break up with him? What have you done?

  Washing my face in the kitchen sink, I hurried about, slipping into something comfortable and jumping into my pickup. It was the final rehearsal before the big night. Tickets were sold out, and Professor McGraw and Finlay were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  The rehearsal went flawlessly, and when we retired home to get showered and ready, there was another basket waiting for me at my door, this time full of dishes that looked and smelled awful, so my guess was West had tried to make them himself. This time, there was only one card.

  Tried something new.

  Wasn’t very successful.

  I did order you pizza, though.

  Love, West.

  “Don’t peek. It’s bad luck.” Tess swatted my butt as she walked past me in the backstage area. I didn’t listen. I shoved my face between the curtains, glancing around. The auditorium was jam-packed with people. Completely full. I didn’t recognize ninety percent of the faces. Probably out-of-towners who wanted to enjoy the show. But the front row was full of Sheridan University staff, including Professor McGraw, and there were people I’d gone to high school and middle school with. They were all going to see my new face in a few minutes.

  My real face.

  My scarred face.

  Oddly, I was prepared for that.

  What I wasn’t prepared for was West’s conspicuous absence. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Tess shoved her face next to mine behind the scarlet curtains, pouting. “Seriously, Grace, what are you looking at?”

  “West is not here,” I croaked. She tugged me backstage by my vintage dress.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Reign said he bought tickets.”

  “Tickets? Plural?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. Like, a good amount of ’em. He’s probably bringing his eternal date, East Braun, and I know Reign’s coming, too.”

  I laughed, before sobering up. “He wouldn’t buy the tickets just to help the play, right?”

  Tess stared at me like I was insane. “This play kicks ass. We don’t need any help. He bought the tickets because he wants to show you off, silly.”

  By the time I was on the verge of going mad about West not being there, the show was starting, and I had to shove my anxiety aside to focus on being Blanche. It was surprisingly easy. I forgot just how much I loved having eyes on me. How addictive people’s responses to what was going on onstage was.

  Every laugh, gasp, and clap from the audience settled in my stomach, fueling me.

  It was during my second scene when the doors to the auditorium opened and West walked in looking like a million bucks, wearing a tux, no less, his date hanging on his cast-clad arm.

  It wasn’t Easton Braun.

  It was Grandma Savvy.

  Following closely behind them was Nurse Aimee, who had her arm looped around Easton Braun’s. He was her date.

  Followed by Marla, who’d come all the way from Florida, and was accompanied by Reign.

  My heart was in my throat as I recited all my lines, moved around, did all the things Blanche did. I watched from the corner of my eye as they settled in the first row. Grandma Savvy was wearing her beloved sequined gown. She waved at me with a bright smile.

  She recognizes me.

  West offered me a small wink with a hint of a smile, sprinkling his gesture with an approving once-over to let me know he liked the nightgown I was clad in—and was fully planning to destroy it by the end of the night. By the time I finished my scene, I was nearly bursting with happiness. I’d never felt so delighted in my life.

  The rest of the show went without a hitch.

  I was a phoenix, slicing the air, flying farther away from the ashes that had buried me for years.

  I knew I would always remember how they’d felt against my wings.

  But that I would never let them bring me down to the ground again.

  And still, I rise.

  West

  The crowd cheered for ten minutes straight after the show ended.

  Every time I thought the claps and whistles had subsided, a new wave started. On one hand, my chest was on the verge of exploding with pride, watching Grace slaying the play, leaving Aiden and Tess in a pile of dust behind her. On the other, I wanted to get the next part over with, because I’d been working toward it from the moment I left the hospital.

  “That’s my granddaughter over there, Gracie-Mae!” Grams took a break from clapping to point at Grace, yelling in Aimee’s ear.

  Aimee kept clapping. “I know. She was fabulous.”

  “Smart as a whip and beautiful as an angel. She’s been touched by God, this one.”

  Finally, the cast began to retreat backstage.

  Professor McGraw got onstage with a microphone, tapping Grace’s shoulder and signaling her to stay behind.

  Here goes fucking nothing, Tex. Accompanied by its friend, public humiliation!

  They exchanged a few murmurs. Then McGraw addressed the crowd.

  “Thank you so much for coming here and watching our production of A Streetcar Named Desire, the American classic by Tennessee Williams.” She proceeded to gloss through the credits for the director, producer, and main actors, before cutting to the chase.

  “While the show is over, I’ve been asked by one of our students to pass along a message I think is important for everyone in this day and age. I’m a huge believer that the amphitheater is a thought-provoking, emotionally stimulating space, and after listening to what this student had to say, I’ve a feeling he is going to stir those exact same feelings in you. A show of courage, bravery, and heart is just as much a show as the one you’ve just witnessed. And so, without further ado, I am thrilled to call West St. Claire to the stage.”

  My feet began moving as I tuned out the cheers around me. I glanced at Grace and saw the confusion in her eyes. Doubt reared its ugly head. Was I a complete moron for doing this?

  She’d asked for a perfect boyfriend. For grand gestures. Things to make
her feel beautiful. If this doesn’t work, I might throw in the towel.

  Ten seconds later, I was standing onstage. Professor McGraw handed me the microphone and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  “Knock ’em dead, honey.”

  I stood in front of Texas. She blinked back at me, waiting for an explanation for this odd scene. I turned around from her and addressed the audience instead.

  “I didn’t know the play A Streetcar Named Desire before the start of this semester. Honestly? I don’t think I know much about any piece of art that doesn’t include explosions and Megan Fox in it.”

  I received some snickers and howls from men in the audience. Not exactly a blue-blooded crowd. That worked in my favor.

  “But then Grace Shaw, this girl over here, was working as a stage assistant for the play, and I was interested in her, and she was interested in it, so I decided to read it. I wanted to know what enchanted her about A Streetcar Named Desire. And I get it. I truly do. What Tennessee Williams was trying to say here. The burning desire to call some place—any place—home. I’m no literary expert, but what I liked about this is the notion that we all at times ride on a road so dark, sometimes we don’t even realize when our eyes are closed. Not until a fissure of light cracks through.”

  I took a deep breath, getting to the punch line.

  “I’ve been spending the last few years running away from home in the dark. Not literally—my ass was right here, in Sheridan. But I didn’t want to belong to a place I ruined because of one stupid mistake. Then I met Grace Shaw. She turned my life upside down. Whoever told you that’s a nice thing never had anyone change their lives. That shit was brutal.” I shook my head.

  That made everyone laugh, Texas included. She clutched her side, giggling into her fist. That was good. Encouraging. Maybe this speech wasn’t a complete bust.