by A. M. Brooks
“How about Nora?” Coach asks in a guarded voice.
I turn to meet his eyes. “We discussed everything last night,” I tell him.
He watches me. “Everything?”
I sigh. “About Roman, Cody, and the shit show that’s unfolding,” I inform him. “Not about us though. She isn’t ready. I probably freaked her out when I told her how I still felt about her.” My face heats as we have this conversation. This is how I would imagine therapy would feel. My balls feel suffocated with all the emotion in the room.
“What did she think about the protection plan you guys created?” I glance at him sideways. He knows just the questions to ask to keep me honest.
I shrug. “She wasn’t happy that we’re always keeping tabs on her. She doesn’t want someone to get hurt.”
“Smart woman,” he says, giving me the look.
I nod again. “She is. Doesn’t change anything though. This could get bad. Like beheaded bodies bad if something doesn’t happen to keep Roman locked up and for Pierce to land his crazy ass in a cell as well. They sent Camilla to Araminta High this year,” I tell him, attempting to change the subject.
He squints as if trying to place the name to the story. “The one who was at the private school, right? Didn’t she set a house on fire?”
“An apartment building, but yes,” I shake my head. “The girl who her boyfriend cheated on her with lived there.” A few people almost didn’t make it, I add to myself. The whole family is crazy. Roman used to say Cody was the perfect dealer because of his innocent babyface, but he’d put a bullet in anyone who didn’t pay up.
Coach is quiet the rest of practice, at least about the shit storm that is making its way into my town. He keeps the drills going and I complete the three miles. My knee is screaming by the end of the day, but the rest of me feels relaxed again. Training has become a high without the actual high for me. By the time I leave, I realize the high school will be getting out. I shoot Nora a quick text about picking her up. Her reply is almost immediate.
Nora: I have a ride already. Thanks anyway!
I grit my teeth. Nichols is probably bringing her home again. Cracking my neck, I flex my hands on the steering wheel, imagining his face. No one wanted to bring him into the plan. I know I should be thankful he can be there for her, but I’m not dumb either. I know he wants her. He’s probably wanted her since last year. The longer she puts off talking with me so we can fix our shit, the more of a chance he has to slide in.
Darrian: Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow at 7 again.
Nora: You don’t have to do that. I can drive.
Darrian: I’ll see you at 7 Nora.
The dots appear then stop. Good girl. I smile to myself. It’s progress. I check the clock and realize I have time to make it home for dinner and question my dad again. I make a loop and head down the other street that will bring me to Nora’s house. I drive past and notice that her dad’s car isn’t home yet. He’s oblivious to what’s going on. He was exalted of the charges for money theft and laundering. As far as I know, he’s never questioned why that happened further than what was released in court. This either makes him very stupid or a really smart business partner. Either way, he’s my father’s new favorite. I park farther down the road and parallel between two other vehicles before waiting. I scan all the other vehicles around me, relaxing when I notice they all seem to be the same as the last few weeks still. I’m surprised when it’s Lily’s yellow convertible that pulls up Nora’s driveway instead of Nichols. Nora looks around when she gets out. She probably can feel me watching her, but she can’t see me. Lily says something that makes Nora laugh, before she waves and runs inside. Smart girl. I wait a few more minutes until I see her peek out her bedroom curtains.
When they close again, I start up my Jeep and make a U-turn to leave. Guilt from yesterday pricks at my conscience. I’m aware I have stalker tendencies. Nora knows she’s being watched, and I should feel bad, but I can’t. The need to control her safety overrides all of that. I will tell her it’s me when the time is right. Not now though. She needs to be extra cautious every day.
The house is lit up when I pull into my own driveway and park. My muscles protest slightly when I step out of the Jeep. I can hear light rock music coming from the front door, so I know Mom must also be home tonight. Once a week, she will actually cook dinner. On those nights she also plays the local soft rock channel, as if the music will help her cooking skills. I groan wondering what tonight’s mystery meat will be. Sure enough, she’s putting a salad on the table when I enter the kitchen.
“Hi honey,” she greets me before walking back into the kitchen.
“Hey Ma,” I say before sliding into my usual chair. I straighten up though when my father walks into the room.
“Yes, I understand,” he says into his cell phone. “See you on the green tomorrow then Dave.” He flashes a rare smile before hanging up. Seeing me, the smile falls from his lips and he’s all business again.
“When did you get in?” he asks, sitting down across from me.
“Don’t start right now, Charles.” My mother breezes in carrying a platter of what looks like burnt salmon. The asparagus and lemons look equally as charred. “Let the boy eat first.”
We both disguise the horror on our faces as we scoop platefuls. At least the salad looks edible.
“We never see him, Krista,” he points the salad tongs at me. “I’m just surprised he’s here tonight at all.” Jab one.
“Just been busy,” I say around a mouthful of chewy fish.
“Have you scheduled the meeting with the dean from Stanford like you promised?” he asks while picking at his own food. My mother sits quietly drinking her wine and eating.
“I haven’t scheduled with anybody yet,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t have a break until Thanksgiving time.”
“Who else are you scheduling with, dear?” my mom takes the time to ask. She looks worried as she studies me and my father.
“I’m scheduling a meeting at Gonzaga University as well. It’s a formality,” I explain to them both, but I’m looking at her.
“I thought we discussed this already?” my father replies. “When you asked me to give you the classified information on your friend and his case, the deal was you’d look at Stanford. Are you not a man of your word, son?” Jab two.
I nod my head in agreement. “We did agree that I’d look at Stanford, father. I’m looking. I will schedule with them as well and hear what they have to say just like Gonzaga.”
He throws his napkin next to his plate. “Darrian, this is your future we’re talking about. After you just about ruined your chances of walking again, you begged me to look into the situation with your friends. I did. Stanford is willing to take you despite what you did to yourself. They haven’t even looked into the accident. You could start next semester even.” Jab three, exaggeration, jab four.
“Situation with my friends.” My voice is laced with anger now. “The situation is connected to your ex-business partner. Mark Sutton, your new favorite employee, it’s his daughter who alerted DTF about what was happening in the school and in Araminta. If not for her, you would still be blinded that your city was being infested by Pierce and the Zero-Thirteen. Oh and guess what, it was Pierce who was helping Anders launder. You let the problem in. I’m trying to keep the family and my friends alive because of your fuck up.” I stand up and drop my own napkin.
“Thanks for dinner, Ma,” I kiss her pale cheek before striding away. I hear them arguing more as I ascend the stairs to my room. My arms are vibrating with the need to hit something. My fingers twitch, wishing I was holding a joint right now. I need to relax, and I can’t. Not how I used to anyway.
After my shower I grab a dark pair of sweatpants and my black hoodie. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m in my Jeep again and cruising down the road. Kid Ink’s “Big Deal” blares through my speakers. I think of all the places I know I could go to and still get a hookup. Instead, I
inhale, imagine hazel eyes with tears sliding down pale cheeks, the back of her head when she turns away from me, and then I exhale. That craving is less, but I still need to feed the other.
Parking closer than ever before, I stare up at her room. Her light is on. I imagine Nora sitting cross-legged on her bed in those barely-there shorts and too large t-shirt. I wish it was my t-shirt. Her long hair is high on her head, the pen gripped between her front teeth. My heart pounds thinking of her that way and how beautiful she would look. Pretty sure my balls are choking again on the touchy-feely thoughts I’m having.
I glance around at the deserted street before looking back at the house. I notice this time that Mr. Sutton’s ride is out front. I want to feel better knowing he’s there, but nothing except me being in that house would make things better.
When a blacked-out car drives past, I slump farther in my seat. It’s the first time I’ve noticed anyone out at this time of the night in this neighborhood. By now I know which cars belong to which house too. The car brakes in front of Nora’s house. My breathing stops and my heart rate increases. The silence in my vehicle is deafening. Only probably thirty seconds goes by, but it felt like minutes, before the car speeds back up and squeals their tires through the stop sign. Glancing at the house, I see a shadow in Nora’s window. The curtain parts and she looks right at me. In the dark, she can’t see me, but I feel excitement all the same. Yeah, I’m here, baby. I saw them too. Her head whips to the left and she looks down the road in the direction the other car went. All too soon the curtains fall back in place and she’s gone.
I wait.
Five minutes pass before her room is submerged in darkness.
I wait again, my key hovering by the ignition.
Three minutes pass before the small glow of her lamp flicks on.
“Two minutes longer than last night, baby,” I whisper. I feel guilty again knowing I’m part of the reason she can’t sleep without her light. If I hadn’t been here, I would have missed the other car though. I always knew Nora was being watched. It was only a matter of time until they slipped up. I’m ready.
Day after day everything gets easier and I’ve slipped into a comfortable pattern. Usually Darrian arrives at my house around seven and we have a two-minute argument over who is actually driving me to school. Some days I let him have control and drive me, other days I take control and I drive. He takes the bus from the high school to the college and I don’t feel bad because he is the freak who insists he go with me. My classes fly by. I’ll admit I’ve thawed immensely toward Ethan. We don’t talk about Darrian or Lily and that is the only thing that keeps our friendship going right now. I let him talk to me. Sometimes I answer and other times I can shut him up with one look. I’m on as good of terms with Elijah as I can be. He’s always polite to me and in his own way, I think he cares, but he’s always standoffish in his own Elijah way. I don’t pry and I don’t get him to open up which I think earns me respect in his eyes. After school, Darrian always texts me to see if I need a ride and every day, I tell him no. I either drive myself or I catch a ride most of the time with Trent and sometimes Lily. Olivia and Shea haven’t mentioned anything about the shift in our dynamics and I’m hoping they stay happily ignorant to the tsunami wave of problems that I’m in.
Everything is easy…too easy. I feel in the air that something is brewing. It wouldn’t be Araminta if there wasn’t. The days until my birthday are numbered. As it creeps closer on the calendar, I keep thinking back to last year and how my whole world had fallen apart at this time. Before driving my fist into the punching bag, I feel a sting of tears at the memory. Letting the air out through my teeth, I hit the bag right, left, then duck before transitioning my feet. This year we’re all hitting the road to Trent’s series classic in Sacramento. I need the break from the nervous energy. I need a night where I can sleep without worrying every shadow is going to grab me. I need space from Darrian and the conflicting emotions he stirs within me.
My phone pings quietly as I leave the building.
Darrian: I’m out front. Hurry up.
I roll my eyes. Speak of the devil. He must have left class early in order to get here on a Friday at this time. I shove my school camera in my bag, hell-bent on using pictures from Trent’s race as part of my semester project. When I step out the front doors, the sight before me is chaos with students everywhere.
Darrian sticks out, leaning against his Jeep that is pulled right in front. His long legs are shoulder length apart and his arms are crossed over his chest. A pair of Oakleys sits on the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes, yet I can feel shivers as he watches me. Tracking my movements as I get closer. People move and dodge around us, not paying attention to where they are going. Everyone is as transfixed as I am.
I rub one hand absently across my heart to try and calm the erratic way it beats.
“What are you doing?” I ask once he’s within hearing distance. Instead of answering me, his arms unfold and a grin spreads across his face. He pops the door open and nods for me to get in. I take a step before hesitating.
“The robots are watching,” his voice whispers near my ear. The heat from his mouth sends chill bumps down my back.
“Robots?” My brow rises, my eyes meeting his gaze for the first time.
He looks toward the crowd of people, not even hiding the fact that they are watching us, “Robots.”
I nod and smile to myself. Fitting term. Torn, I decide to get in. I watch as he jogs around to get in the driver side. Deja vu hits me like a tidal wave remembering the first time we were like this.
“Did something happen?” I question quietly. He looks at me before driving away. He waits until we’re on the highway heading out of town before answering my question.
“Yeah,” he looks at me quickly. “Something did happen.”
Fear fires in my chest imagining worst-case scenario.
“I’m missing your birthday again,” he tells me. His hands flex on the steering wheel.
“My birthday?” I say, shocked. My nerves are still crackling in panic. “So,” I shrug.
“I missed it last year.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “And you’re leaving out of town this year. I haven’t spent a birthday with you yet.” He says this as if it’s a huge deal to him. I massage my finger into my forehead, pushing away the emotional headache.
“You’re celebrating with your friends this weekend, right?” he states.
“Mmhm.” I nod, feeling completely lost as to where this conversation is going.
“Good,” he replies. I think I detect a note of displeasure in his voice then shake my head. This is Darrian. “We’re celebrating first,” he announces, completely knocking me off guard.
The miles tick by and we’ve settled into silence. He looks deep in thought while I’m too anxious to speak. Probably shouldn’t have got in the car. The minute he takes the next exit, I know exactly where he is taking me. A place I never thought I’d be at again, especially not with Darrian of all people.
He barely has shifted into park before I’m scrambling out of my seat. I hug my arms to my chest, trying to contain the anger I feel for him right now. My eyes skate over the yacht bobbing in the water.
“Why are we here?” I demand. He approaches me slowly. Neither regret nor remorse are in his silvery greys when our eyes clash.
“I told you why.” His head tilts to the side.
“I don’t need a birthday present,” I tell him. Not from you, my mind adds silently.
I watch him as he digests my words. The hurt look that flashes briefly over his face is soon wiped clean, his jaw set with determination. “I won’t push you to talk about anything. I just want to spend time with you.”
I still don’t move. I’m curious about this Darrian in front of me. At the same time, my mind is shouting explicit reminders of everything he did to me. All the ways he hurt me and eventually drove me away.
“Okay,” I say and without waiting, I walk toward the
dock.
Stunned, he doesn’t move at first, but when I sling my leg over the edge after the final step, he’s right there helping make sure I keep my balance. His fingers graze over the sensitive part of my leg, causing me to jerk in surprise. My whole body responds in a way I feel almost ashamed of. Color stains my cheeks while I scramble to reach the other side of the deck. Darrian pulls his long body up and is once again in front of me. My head tilts up while he speaks to me.
“Over here.” He gently taps my arm, causing more zings of fire to race up my skin. I scowl, pretty sure he knows what he’s doing. Darrian is playing the game effectively making me feel that once again, I’m at a rookie status. When he stops, I peer around him to find the alcove table draped in a colorful table cloth with two place settings. I was too preoccupied to notice when we first got up, but now I recognized the smell of bacon in the air.
“Take a seat?” he asks rather than tells me. I’m again speechless when I slide in across from him. The position scarily similar to our first time at the yacht as well. He lifts the silver tops on the trays. The plate in front of me is heaped with eggs, bacon, fruit, hash browns, and two pieces of French toast.
“Breakfast for dinner,” I mutter lamely. My brain has officially stopped working. Any more surprises tonight and I will swear this is a dream and not real life.
“I know how much you like breakfast food. I just wanted to take you to a place I know you liked,” he gestures with his arm at the space around us. In the distance, the music from the nearby bar starts to play. My heart takes a swooping dive.
“Nora,” he says. The way he calls my name is caressing and I look up to meet his eyes across the small space. “It’s just a meal. Eat, please? I promise not to say anything.”
