Honorable Disgrace

by Stephanie N. Pitman

  “It’s a rental.” He held the neck of the bottle with his forefinger and thumb, twirling it back and forth between his legs. “You okay?”

  “I don’t know.” A cloud of smoke had descended, knots developing in my insides. I stood abruptly. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  He didn’t move, but motioned with his bottle. “Down that way, second door you come to.”

  Not quite running, I hurried down the hall only to pivot around at the closed door. Just in time I made it to the kitchen sink, my dinner hitting the metal with a wet splatter. Retching a few more times, I blindly reached around for something to wipe the tears and spittle away. Brad, who must have followed me into the kitchen, placed a paper towel in my hand and filled a glass with water for me while I cleaned up my face. Swishing the water around my mouth, I spit it into the sink and washed everything down the drain.

  “Go sit down,” he demanded and opened the fridge. He rummaged around, pulled out another dark green bottle, and a can of ginger ale. I watched as he filled my empty water glass with ginger ale. The liquid fizzled and hissed, bubbling up to the lip of the glass. The fizz popped, receding down to three quarters full.

  “Here, this should help calm your stomach.” A strange glint came into his eyes when he added, “And your nerves, too.”

  “Thanks.” I took the proffered glass, memories of my mom giving me ginger ale making me yearn for home. Holding it to my lips, the golden fluid foamed and spit.

  Brad stuck the green bottle up in the air. The brown label looked like it had some sort of deer or elk on it, the edges of his mouth visible beyond the neck, corners upturned. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” I muttered, taking too big of a sip, fire and fizz searing my throat. My throat burned and I spluttered, setting the glass down with a thump. The drink was cloyingly sweet, almost like candy, with a bitter aftertaste.

  “What is this?”

  Brad chuckled. “Ginger ale. And something to help take the edge off.”

  I slid it across the table in his direction, shaking my head. “No, thanks.”

  “Oh come on, Angie,” Brad pushed it back toward me. “It’s not gonna hurt you, chica. Trust me. You’ll feel better. Drink.”

  “No.”

  “It’s mostly ginger ale. I only added a touch of Jägermeister. Worst that’ll happen is you’ll get a little buzz.”

  Sighing, I picked up the drink. He smiled. Then I stood and walked to the sink. I locked gazes with him as I tipped it. His neck corded, his eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged.

  I set the glass down, breaking eye contact. “I’m gonna take off.”

  Brad tipped his bottle to his mouth. At first I thought he was going to ignore me. I moved toward the door.

  “You need a lift?”

  “No, I have Lorraine’s keys, thanks. Will you let her know I left?”

  He shrugged again, his brow scrunched. “Yep, have a good night.”

  I hurried out into the hall, and weaved through the laughing, cavorting minors. A shadow fell over me when I was almost to the door. “Hey, Angie.”

  Hobbs stood over me, flanked by Brock, Coulee’s beloved quarterback, and another hulking jock. “Hobbs.”

  “Didn’t think I’d ever see you at one of these.” His speech was slurred, his eyes bloodshot.

  “Uh, I was actually just leaving, if you’ll excuse me.”

  They partially blocked the doorway. I went to brush by, but Hobbs caught my wrist. I pulled back, but he held firm. “I want … apologize. Din’t mean to push you.”

  His breath was warm and foul, the smell of alcohol strong. My nostrils flared and I leaned away. “It’s okay. No harm done.”

  “Want to apolergize,” he slurred again. His wet lips smothered my response. At first, too shocked to do anything but splutter, I shoved against his unmovable chest, and freed an arm. I swung hard. A satisfying smack sounded when my fist connected with his cheek. Red blossomed along his jawline, but it didn’t seem to faze him.

  “Hobbs, I can see your charm hasn’t improved much.” Brad appeared, his teeth gritted. “Let her go. Now.”

  My arm fastened in his meaty paw, Hobbs staggered. “Just … playin’. Go get your own … girl.” Hobbs swatted at Brad, but missed as Brad stepped back.

  Brad glared at Brock. “You better get your compadre and get the hell out of here.”

  Brock looked like he was going to refuse, but then he shoved Hobbs. “Let’s go, man. This party’s lame.”

  “You okay?” Brad touched my shoulder.

  “Yeah, I … I think so.” I nodded and wiped my mouth. A strand of hair had fallen forward and I pushed it back, my hand shaky. “Thanks.”

  I gave Brad a brief hug, his arm encircling my waist, and I found myself wishing he was someone else. Actually, no, it was better Cory didn’t know. There was already enough tension between Hobbs and Cory. I didn’t want any more fuel added to the fire, and thankfully nothing happened. Hobbs was obviously not in his right mind, and hopefully he was too drunk to remember any of it.

  “Hey, I’ll walk you out.”

  I almost said no, but then wondered if Hobbs might still be outside. “Alright,” I shrugged.

  Silently we walked, the interior light flaring to life when I swung the car door open. “Sure you don’t want to stay?” He’d stepped close to me, his finger twisting a strand of my hair.

  His nearness made my head swim, so close I could smell his musky cologne. Tentatively, I touched his arm, the hair coarse against my fingers. He leaned toward me. I could hear the accelerated beat of his heart. And then he tipped my head back, capturing my lips in a fierce kiss. I tensed. When I turned away, he gripped my side, briefly squeezing like he wasn’t going to let go, but then he released me, letting a string of English and Spanish curses fly.

  “See ya later, Angie.” His retreating frame was locked into a determined purpose, the set of his shoulders sharp and hard.

  I scowled, furious—and oddly confused by the desire to call him back, to kiss him, to feel his embrace. Instead, I climbed into the truck. I rubbed my face, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. The Chevy motor growled, headlights lit up the grass, an upbeat party song blaring as I pulled out. I stomped on the pedal, and the tires screeched.

  Why hadn’t I just gone to bed?

  Chapter Ten

  I knelt in the midst of a pile of discarded clothes, wearing my jeans and a black cami, my hair still in a towel. I held up two sweaters. The search for the perfect top came down to these—one blue, one red.

  In front of the mirror I laid first the red, and then the blue, against me. The red fit me amazingly, accentuating my narrow waist, but the blue really made my eyes pop, which were easily my best feature.

  “Ach, I can’t decide!” Throwing the sweaters onto the bed, I strode to the mirror and snatched up my eyeliner. I had to take a calming breath before I could apply the charcoal grey eyeliner, carefully outlining my eyes with a thin streak. After applying mascara and a touch of brown eye shadow, I sat back to admire the effect the makeup had on my eyes, green flecks standing out brilliantly against the blue.

  I smiled then removed the towel from my hair, damp waves cascading to my shoulders. I flipped my head, my long tresses dangling. My hair dryer warmed the exposed skin of my neck and shoulders as I directed it at my hair.

  I pulled it into a low ponytail and pursed my lips as I studied the results. Then I let my hair down, bringing it up at the temples, and turned from left to right, viewing my profile. Classic barrette? No, I always wore it like that.

  I wanted something different, I wanted to look good¸ I wanted Cory’s mouth to drop open he was so amazed. Okay, that wasn’t going to happen, but I could dream.

  Picking up my brush again, I heard the doorbell ring and froze mid-stroke. I glanced at my clock. No way that was Cory. It was too early. Footsteps approached the door and I half listened as I absently brushed. The sound of voices trickled down, Cory’s deep timber unmistakable.


  Already.

  I screamed and sprang to my feet, then froze. I looked from the mess of clothes all over my room to the mirror. All I could think was, I’m not ready, I’m not ready, I’m not ready!

  Plunging to my knees, I frantically dug through the clothes on my floor. “Oh, come on, where are you?” A dash of red caught my eye and I dove onto my bed, scrambling to my feet as my mom knocked.

  “Angie, your date’s here.”

  Desperately, I tugged the sweater over my head, my voice muffled, “Okay, I’ll be right up.”

  One last hurried look in the mirror showed a bright-eyed rosy-cheeked girl, and my hair wasn’t bad considering I was in a hurry. I smoothed a hand over my sweater and rushed to the bathroom. For the third time, I brushed my teeth and gargled with mouthwash.

  I grabbed the closest pair of shoes, a pair of chunky sandals. I tripped up the stairs as I tried to slip them on, my heart racing like I was doing a marathon.

  All my annoyance at being rushed fled at the sight of him and the realization he was here for me. I felt like somebody had just yanked the floor out from underneath me. The tips of his fingers were casually shoved in the pockets of his blue jeans, his back half turned to me. I came to a standstill and bit the inside of my cheek. He was dressed in a long sleeved thermal t-shirt that hugged his muscles. As though he felt my eyes on him, he turned. His engaging smile sent my stomach plummeting to my toes in a weird combination of nerves and anticipation

  My lashes fluttered as I looked down and then back up. “Hey.”

  “Angie.” His eyes moved up and down the length of my body, making no effort to hide his appreciation. “You look really good.”

  He’d closed the gap between us, fingering a lock of hair draped over my shoulder. He let it drop at the sound of footsteps on the stairs and stepped back a pace. “I like your hair down.”

  “So, where are you two off to tonight?” My mom appeared on the stairs, a basket of clothes balanced on her hip. She wore tattered sweats, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. My friends had seen her like this countless times, even Alan had—this was just the way she dressed at home. But what was she thinking?

  I leaned toward her and whispered, “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Like what?” She looked down at herself, brows drawn together.

  “Oh, never mind.”

  Cory eyed me. His forehead twitched as he answered my mom. “I thought we’d go to a hockey game. Grab something to eat afterward. I thought of it during practice. I came early so we have time to get there. Is that okay, Ang?”

  My dad, who’d come in to rummage in the fridge, looked up at the mention of hockey.

  “Sounds great,” I answered. Hockey? Honestly, he could take me to a cow branding, or the signing of a new bill, or a chess match. As long as I was with him. “I’ve never seen a live game before.”

  He smiled again, his uncertainty evaporating. “Awesome. You may want warmer shoes, though. And a jacket.”

  I reached into the hall closet and folded a hoodie over my arm. My sneakers were by the front door where I’d left them after my morning run, a pair of socks balled in the toe. A bit sweaty, but they’d work.

  “We gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.” Cory took hold of my free hand and nodded courteously to my parents. “Midnight okay to have her back?”

  I raised my head in surprise. I had a strict curfew of ten.

  “You’re going to a hockey game?” my dad asked, his eyes brightening. Cory nodded. “Did you see that pass Will Schneider made last week, where he sent the puck the whole length across the ice and then Rogers scored? Amazing.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been replaying it all week on ESPN,” Cory said. “It was epic. The way it sailed right by all those sticks and jabs for it.”

  “If you think that’s cool you should see the videos of my high school days—”

  “Dad,” I said with a sigh.

  My dad looked at me like he’d forgotten I was there, and then the light in his eyes dimmed a bit. He hugged me. “Midnight’s fine, Cory. But you’d better be careful with my little girl.”

  “Dad.” I sighed again, quietly pleased his love for hockey allowed me a couple extra hours.

  “Yes, sir,” Cory replied, making eye contact with my dad. They followed us out onto the steps, Cory opening the door to the Jeep for me. “It was nice to meet both of you, Mrs. Adams, Mr. Adams. You’ll have to show me those videos sometime.”

  My dad was clearly pleased by Cory’s comment, and my mom smiled and called after us, “Remember who you are. Both of you.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized.

  Cory helped me into the Jeep, and then squeezed my fingers before he released them. “My mom says basically the same thing to me, ‘Return with honor.’ It’s all good. It shows they care.”

  I twisted my hands in my lap, my stomach feeling like it was full of carbonation, and the slightest nudge would make me erupt in a fit of giggles, giddy like a silly little school girl. He turned onto the highway toward the city, half an hour away, instead of town. The windows were open, and warm air blasted me, my hair whipping around my face.

  “Sorry,” Cory said.

  “What?” I yelled over the noise of the wind, cupping a hand to my ear.

  He pushed a button, an electric whir sounding as the windows rolled up. I pressed my lips together, disappointed he’d gotten his window fixed, wishing he had leaned over me again. “I said, sorry I came early. The hockey game is all the way in Boise and I wasn’t sure I could get tickets until this afternoon.”

  “That’s okay, but next time could you give a girl a heads up?”

  “Guess I was … anxious to see you.”

  Speechless, I touched his arm, his muscle tensing under my fingers. He covered my hand, interlocking our fingers and brought them to his lips, placing a soft kiss on my knuckle. And then he pressed my hand to his chest, his heart thudding, matching the erratic pattern of my own.

  Suddenly he began to slow and veered off to the edge of the road.

  “What’s wrong?” I braced and looked around.

  He rammed the Jeep into park and pulled me to him in one motion. His kiss was soft, his lips barely touching mine like a whisper. His hand stole up into my hair, twirling tresses between his fingers. Our kiss deepened slowly, softly. And then, just as suddenly as he’d pulled over, he stopped, his breathing raspy. He rested his forehead on mine and cupped my face. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”

  Grateful I’d pushed Brad away last night, I encircled Cory’s neck and brought him closer, a small moan escaping from my throat as he pressed me gently back into the seat. Right here was where I wanted to be. With Cory.

  Kissing me again and again, each time with increasing urgency, my face burned where he touched it, his long tapered fingers stroking my skin, eliciting shivers. I clung to him, gasping like I was drowning, and pulled back for air.

  His voice was heavy with emotion as he slumped behind the wheel. “We’d better get going or we’ll never make it to the game on time.”

  I met his smoky blue eyes, the depth of emotion piercing my clouded brain. “Oh, I guess, yeah. But … could I get one more kiss, you know, for the road?”

  He chuckled, but obliged, pecking my lips lightly.

  “Is that the best you can do?” I challenged, trying not to pout.

  He laughed loudly, “If I kiss you anymore, I’ll never stop and we won’t make it to the game. I have a few other surprises planned for you.”

  I wanted to reply, ‘would that be so bad?’, but instead joined his infectious laughter. “What surprises?”

  “If I tell you, they won’t be surprises,” he answered cryptically as he pulled back onto the road. A whiff of a familiar funky scent hit me and I wrinkled my nose. Cory’s football gear.

  “I see you brought your smelly friends again.” I jutted my thumb toward the back and grinned.

  He let a few choice words fly. “I was in such a hurry, I
forgot all about my gear. I’m used to it, but now you have to deal with the stench all the way to Boise. And back.” He smacked the wheel with his fist, beginning to slow again. “I’ll chuck it out and hope it’s still there on the way back.”

  “No, Cory, it’s alright. It’s a very … uh … masculine scent. Just open your windows like before. Natural Febreeze, right?”

  “Ha, see that’s one of the things I like about you, Ang.” He pulled my hand over to his knee, settling his on top.

  “What, that I can handle your stink?” I snorted.

  “No.” Chuckling, he sped up, maneuvering the Jeep through the busy highway traffic. “You’re so optimistic. Always looking for the good in everything. Look at how you’ve handled things with Liz. All the nasty things she says about you, but you just ignore her.”

  “Well, you make a great distraction.” I gave his leg a playful squeeze.

  “There you go again, Sunshine.”

  The mention of Liz made my stomach clench, the back of my eyes prickling. I scrunched them up against the unwanted weakness and shook my head firmly.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I still didn’t look at him, but stared up at the sky, deep blue and cloudless. “Those things you heard … that Liz has been saying. Do you believe them?”

  “That’s what you’re worried about?” He gave a snort of laughter, and then catching a glimpse of my serious face he visibly paled, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

  He steered into the crowded stadium parking lot way too fast, dodging people as they scurried into the huge domed building. The Jeep jerked to a stop, rocking when he slammed it in park. He turned to me, grasping both my hands, a fine edge to his voice. “Angie, if that’s all I wanted I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of bringing you here. I would have kept going on the side of the highway if that was what I was after. I liked you long before Liz and her lies, because I know that’s what they are. I’ve liked you longer than you know. So can we please put away your doubt once and for all and enjoy the night?”

  Blinking back tears, my mouth slightly agape, I nodded. His thumb brushed away a tear on my lashes, gently caressing my cheek. He drew me to him and kissed my forehead. The crushing weight threatening to suffocate me lifted and I smiled.