by C. Desir
Rox sighed. “Thank you again, Kyle.”
“No problem.”
I let my gasp be heard. “Really? ‘No problem’ to her and a series of head shakes for me? Wait. You came home this way to show me you had the shoes on.” It was good. Great. “That was very awesome of you, Kyle.” I slugged him on the shoulder again. “You’re, like, blossoming already.”
“I gotta get home.” He started to push off.
“Wait.” I jogged a few steps so he couldn’t get too far away. “The list?”
“Uh.”
I touched his forearm and he shrank back. Serious issues. “The list. In or out?”
“I’m in,” he mumbled before he started pedaling as if he’d robbed a bank.
Though a bike was a pretty dumbass way to rob a bank. Still, it was a cool picture. Kyle, in his bright green shoes, money bags on his back, cops chasing him. And he was in. I was going to get to learn a lot more about Possible-Ax-Murderer Kyle. Cool.
“Hailey!” Rox snapped. “You got two calls today from someone named Chaz?”
Don’t smile. Don’t react. Holy. Shit. Chaz called me. Me. Only a few days later. That had to be good in guy time, right?
“Tess’s friend. Weird.” I shrugged and slipped past her into the house, wondering if there was any way to sneak my phone to call him back.
Chapter Nine: Kyle
Fight! Fight! Fight!”
I hated those words more than almost any others in high school. I particularly hated them when they had to do with me. Which, unfortunately, they often did. And it wasn’t always as easy as shuffling away from someone tripping me in the hall. Silence doesn’t necessarily mean escape from the eyes of guys looking to whale on someone. Especially when everyone’s all wired and stir-crazy right before spring break. My face bruises had just healed.
By the third punch in the gut, I was down, curled into a ball and protecting my head and face from kicks.
The salty flavor of blood filled my mouth. I kept as still as possible, waiting for a teacher to come along. Waiting for the bell to ring so everyone would scatter, and I could pull myself up and go clean off in the bathroom.
Another kick landed on my thigh. My hands clutched my junk from the next hit. It hurt to breathe deeply. I counted for distraction, but the numbers became a tally of blows or the seconds I’d have to stay down until the guys gave up.
So instead, I thought of Hailey and tried to remember the colors of the glasses I’d seen on her. Tried to decide which pair was my favorite. The blue ones, maybe. Or the green ones that matched her bra. God, I liked that green bra, even if it was sort of sleazy.
After many millions of years of pondering Hailey’s bras and glasses and then even what she might look like naked, the bell rang and it was finally, finally over. For now. Before I could get up, Dave, I think his name was, coughed up a loogie and spat it in my hair. It was almost worse than the beating, but still I didn’t say anything.
People left. Raced to classes. Moved on. Show’s over.
I pulled myself into a crouched seated position and ran my hand over my face. Aside from the split lip, it wasn’t too bad. Not nearly as bad as freshman year.
One day, I thought, I might fight back. Maybe. Maybe it would be something to put on the list. The list I’d written over a week ago and hadn’t done one thing about. The list for Hailey, who I was maybe friends with. Particularly after that time on my bike. In the shoes she bought me that I didn’t want to take off. That matched her green glasses.
Instead of suffering through teacher explanations or the whispers that would follow me, I eased my bag onto my shoulder and took off. Pavel would be outside playing soccer, like almost every afternoon. And as much as I never wanted to drag him into whatever shitty situation life handed me, his house was safe.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Kyle, my friend. Finally you come to see me. And in the day. No school?”
Pavel wore a knockoff tracksuit, messing around with his soccer ball, flipping it off his foot and behind his back. Girl voices screamed from inside his one-story house, followed by his mom’s sharp reprimand.
“No school. Not for me.”
He nodded. “You bleed, eh? Fight?”
I shrugged. Pavel had seen me bloody before. Way more than this. When he still went to school with me. Before all the shit happened that made his parents pull him out.
He flipped the ball back up and headed it. “So we don’t talk about the blood. Okay.”
I looked down at my ripped shirt. I’d need to change before going home. Mom was probably having a sleeping day after pulling so many night shifts. Definitely not a good day to come home with a busted lip and a ripped shirt.
“But your mom will be upset. I’ll lend you a soccer shirt. Tell her you saved a goal, but the guy on the opposite team ran into you. Good?” he offered.
Mom might buy that. Or maybe she’d be too tired to try to find the lie. “Thanks.”
“Have you found a lady?”
Pavel always asked this, sometimes even before anything else. He was sort of obsessed with it in the way that only a guy trapped with his four younger sisters every day would be.
“No.”
He dropped the ball and plopped down next to it, signaling for me to have a seat. I moved next to him, careful of the bruises and lumps already forming on my body. His eyes widened when I flinched, but he shook his head and released a great sigh.
“I found Cosmopolitan at the library. It has many tips for being a good lover.”
I barked out a laugh. Ouch. Hurt to laugh. “Pavel. No one says ‘lover.’ And I’ve never met a teenage guy who reads women’s magazines for advice.”
Pavel shook his head. “Which is why they never have true love. They don’t know how to talk to girls. Cosmopolitan has many good ideas.”
“Dude. I’m not reading Cosmo. I’m not interested in girls. I mean, I am. But you know. I can’t.”
The weight of my words fell between us. Too many memories of Pavel held down in the freshman locker room and me fighting so hard to get to him. And the taunts about us not being able to get it up for girls. And all the blood. And his screaming. And me forced to watch. None of it mattered now. He’d still gotten pulled from school to study at home, less than a year after he’d gotten into the country. And here it was me being the one who couldn’t say shit if I had a mouthful.
“You have nice shoes.” Pavel pointed, always one to note some name-brand thing I was wearing, and I smiled at the memory of Hailey. I couldn’t help it. The stupid awesome green shoes and Hailey’s delighted face when she gave them to me. And my bike ride past her house. Something I should have put on my list but didn’t think to.
“Yeah. They were a gift from a girl.”
Pavel’s eyebrows lifted almost to the top of his head.
“Don’t get excited. She owed me because she sort of ruined my other ones.”
“This was a good gift, though.”
I nodded.
“She’s a friend?”
I nodded again. “Maybe. I don’t see her much. She’s younger. South campus still.”
Pavel flinched at “south campus” but shook it off a second later. “Cosmopolitan says that younger women like older men. You must learn the location of the G-spot. Cosmopolitan says it is essential for pleasing the ladies.”
I burst out laughing, holding my aching side and trying not to move too much. I needed to see Pavel more. He was a good guy. I envied his ability to let go of all his crap and just be.
“I’m a ways off from finding the G-spot.”
Pavel spun the ball on the tip of his finger.
“No. That’s negative thinking. I told you, my mom is making us all listen to Zig Ziglar CDs from the library. We are only positive now. The power of positive thinking. It’s very different for us. Different but good.”
I was an asshole. I had nothing to cry about, considering what Pavel had been through. And I owed him more than a visit every few months. P
art of why I didn’t spend time with him was because I worried I reminded him of our freshman year too much. Just like I reminded Mom of my absent dad. And not to keep on with my own pity party, but it wasn’t always easy being a magnet for shit.
“This is not a good face, Kyle.” Pavel shook his head at me. “This doesn’t seem like a positive-thinking face.”
I shrugged. “Hard to put on a positive-thinking face when you’ve just had the crap beat out of you.”
Pavel stood up. “So we will go inside and listen to your sad music and maybe one of my sisters will give you first aid.”
I snorted. “Please, no.”
Pavel laughed a little. His smiles were rare, only coming out when he found something funny. “If you marry one of my sisters, we will be brothers for real.”
I wanted to say something good. Something about how Pavel would always be a brother to me no matter what. But the words wouldn’t come out of my throat. Pavel didn’t need a brother like me. He needed someone who could fight or at the very least speak. There was a fear in there somewhere that should probably go on my list, but there was no way I’d dig deep enough to find it.
Chapter Ten: Hailey
Two weeks of good behavior, on top of celebrating my “sweet sixteen” with the moms, got me band practice time and my cell phone. Having my phone meant phone calls with Chaz. And apparently phone calls with Chaz and texts with Chaz led to gigs. At bars. Like the one we had tonight. He’d listened to us practice over the phone and called a friend.
Tess slammed to a stop in front of a seedy, brick-front bar. No matter whose car we had, Tess always drove because Mira was always checking her phone. And I’d known since I was six that I’d never drive. The three of us stared at the façade for about ten seconds before grinning like fools. How many famous bands had started in shitty places like this?
The whole thing had fallen together perfectly. The moms thought me, Mira, and Tess were going to catch two movies at the theater. Actually, all our parents thought that. Sort of a perfect cover. No one’s allowed to answer phones during movies, and we’d snagged some cash from the parents for snacks.
The second Tess pulled into a parking space, Chaz appeared outside of the van door, smiling wide. At me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said as he slid open the door.
My body flushed with warmth. Excitement. “Hey.”
Would whatever had attracted him to me before still work?
His hand slipped around my waist, his thumb tracing the skin at the top of my jeans. He pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. “First time I’ve laid eyes on you in weeks. I’m not used to girls playing so hard to get.”
I wasn’t playing. The moms would have chained me up if I’d snuck out to see him. “I’m a busy girl.”
“Still. I almost thought we were gonna be a no go.”
I shook my head. He had been persistent on the phone, almost pushy and a little possessive. But here, now, the way he looked at me, my stomach swooped at being so wanted.
Tess and Mira opened the back of the van and let out a collective groan. “I love to play,” Mira said, “but I wish it didn’t involve so much shit.”
“I got it,” Chaz said.
And he did, along with a couple bouncer friends. We were ushered in backstage, shown the filthy excuse for a greenroom, and were set up to play in minutes.
The bar had us opening for another local band, people I’d actually heard of. It felt like a giant step up from the small venues we’d played.
My girls and I stood backstage, shoulder to shoulder, like we always did. We weren’t the praying kind of girls or the kind of girls to laugh and lock hands, but there was something about standing together before we went onstage that always helped us focus.
The bartender announced Blinders On, and when Mira and Tess jogged onstage, Chaz grabbed me from behind.
“It’s going to be so hot watching you out there.”
I tossed him a smile before stepping carefully onto the stage—at least the lighting was okay.
The crowd was decent, into the music, and the place was pretty packed. We’d been advertised as a girl band. It felt totally antifeminist or something using our ownership of boobs to get us an audience, but it worked. And my being grounded for two weeks with nothing to do but play my guitar had also paid off.
The lights fueled me. The crowd fueled me. The feeling of a song coming together the way I imagined when we wrote it fueled me. Knowing Chaz was watching backstage fueled me. God, all of it was heady and too amazing for words. Our set was over way too fast.
When we finished, the lights dropped. And my world turned black. “Shit.”
Tess stepped to the front of the stage and took my hand. Sucked, but on a dark stage, with cords, I needed the help. At least I didn’t have to ask her.
“You were amazing.” Chaz pulled me into him as soon as I was backstage, pinning me against the wall.
“Thanks,” I said, my knees already jelly from how his fingers slid under my shirt to touch my sides, and then I melted further when he pushed his body against mine and kissed me.
Feeling his desperation was almost as big a rush as being onstage.
When we broke apart for breath, Tess had left to pack up. She’d always been totally anal about our equipment.
“You know, they’re holding you back, baby.” Chaz’s stubble scratched my face, and then down my neck, but once his lips touched my collarbone, I couldn’t breathe and my body started to take over, screaming at me for more.
“They’re not holding me back. They’re my girls.” But I couldn’t say much else because Chaz’s lips and hands kept moving.
“Still, Hailey.” His forehead touched mine, which was sweet even if I was sweaty, but he also had his hard-on pressed into my thigh, mostly to make the point that he was turned on and wouldn’t mind finding somewhere to be. Did all twentysomething guys move this fast? It was definitely on my fear list, and another thing to cross off, just . . . not yet. This was only the second time I’d actually seen him, and phone flirtation didn’t exactly translate to feel free to punch my V-card. “You’re like a goddess up there, and those two are hiding in black.”
“Maybe.” I ran my hands down his chest, felt the hardness, and then the ridges of his abs, giving my amped-up body another inch to override any amount of fear of being closer to him that I had.
“I’m serious, baby. I could try to find someone else to hook you up with. People who might actually go somewhere. There’s some good musicians around here who’d love to have a hot girl like you with a fuck-sexy voice in front.”
“Maybe,” I said again. The thought was exciting, but I wasn’t about to ditch my two friends. Friends. Damn. I should have told Kyle to come. If I could get him to talk after, I bet he’d tell me the truth about our playing and not some line.
“Why don’t you come back to my place tonight?” He took my hand and slid it to his crotch, as if I didn’t already know he was hard. I felt the shape of him, the largeness of him, even through his jeans. I’d never touched a guy before, and looking up pictures of guys with Tess and Mira, and trying to figure out how that would fit in us, was one thing. Having my hand on that same something he wanted to shove inside me was another.
I blinked away my worry and pressed my hand against him harder. This rush was what the fear list was about. He grasped my wrist. “Careful, gorgeous. You’re making a lot of promises here, and I’d rather get you back to my place to deliver.”
“I’m sixteen,” I blurted out. Chaz knew I wasn’t twenty-one. He’d known that the night we met, but sixteen was probably a lot younger than he was thinking. My heart still pounded, and I held my breath as I waited for his response.
“You’re not going to tell anyone if I screw you, right?” He chuckled and pressed his dick against me again.
Umm . . . okay, then.
Chaz didn’t care, which felt huge, though I wasn’t completely sure which side of really big deal it fell on. “No. I w
ouldn’t tell anyone.” The blush crept up my face, and his hands slid under my bra. Any second someone could come back here. Panic and excitement swirled around my stomach, fighting for control.
“Fuck, Hailey. You’re making me crazy.” He kissed me hard and then ran another trail down my neck, and all I could think was, Please don’t give me a hickey—no way I could explain that one away.
“Yeah.” But I couldn’t take a deep breath. Being around Chaz was addictive. His low voice, his firm hands. No bullshit about what he wanted to do with me. To me. I wasn’t sure if it was him or the idea of blowing through so many of my fears at once, but God. God.
He hitched my legs around his waist, my back still against the wall, him still grinding into me, giving me rush after rush of heat so intense the room spun.
The other band had started to play. I hadn’t even noticed them going onstage.
“Hailey!” Tess called out. “We gotta run. Mira’s got curfew.”
So did I, but I wasn’t going to put any more age-restraint distance between me and Chaz. Way easier to blame it on her.
Chaz let my legs go, and the rush of heat began to slip away.
“Want a hand out to the car?” she yelled because the other band was crazy loud, and my eardrums already ached from the sound.
“Sure.” I stepped around Chaz to take Tess’s hand, and she moved close enough that our shoulders touched and she’d actually be able to help.
Chaz grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward him, making me stumble. “You’re going to leave me here?”
“Yeah. I gotta go.” I pulled my arm away. Now that I’d caught my breath and put some space between us, I started to feel a little gross about what we’d been doing, backstage, with the chance of at least a half a dozen people passing us. I wasn’t ready for more with him, especially not here, and it was a lot easier to blame Mira than my inexperience. “I gotta get Mira home or we lose our other guitar player.”
