I waited for him to mention what I could do, but he didn’t, so I piped up, “What would I do to make money, give blow jobs in the changing rooms on the beach?”
This brought the light conversation to a grinding halt. I’d meant it as a joke, but hadn’t been able to pull it off because I pictured Christian blocking the bathroom door, drunkenly demanding, “Are you a whore like they say you are?”
Christian’s head swiveled toward me in slow motion. When our eyes met, I could tell he was remembering the same moment. He laughed awkwardly and said, “That’s funny, Kara.”
An uncomfortable silence descended. Maya nodded at me and then jerked her chin in the direction of the bathroom. Yes, I thought, time for drinks. That will help me regroup. When Maya and I were bored at Denny’s we locked ourselves in the handicap stall and passed a fifth of whiskey or tequila or whatever Maya had in her bag until things got fun again.
This time, things did not get fun again.
I rested my butt on the toilet paper dispenser attached to the tiled wall. She leaned against the tan divider that separated our stall from the next. There wasn’t much space between us-enough for a wheelchair to fit through-but we could’ve been in different rooms. We didn’t speak, didn’t look at each other, our fingers didn’t even touch as we handed off the bottle of whiskey. I focused on consuming the right amount-enough to block the memories so I could do a better job of acting normal, but not too much. I couldn’t risk getting wasted and losing my cool.
Little did I know, Maya was fortifying herself for a confrontation. As I brought the bottle to my lips for my fourth and final swig, she caustically remarked, “I don’t know if you said the blow-job thing to test Christian, but he’s forgiven you for what you did on New Year’s. If you love him anywhere near as much as he loves you, just let it go and move on.”
I spit whiskey into the toilet. “He’s forgiven me for what I did. What did he say happened?”
Maya met my gaze, her gunmetal gray eyes cold. “You don’t even remember? He said you were fucked-up, but wow.”
“What did he say?” I reiterated through tightly clenched teeth. Had I dreamt the part where Christian said to forget everything that had happened? Was I wrong to assume that he meant it would stay between us?
“He said that he caught you on the front porch making out with Adrian at midnight. He pulled you away and brought you upstairs.”
I didn’t remember being “brought.” I remembered being dragged. I touched my left wrist, digging into the bruises. Should I show them to Maya? But she explained them away with her next sentence.
“He said you were majorly wasted, stumbling up the stairs. He practically had to drag you…”
Not practically. I closed my eyes, remembering being thrown into the bathroom. The bruises on my tailbone. I lifted the back of my shirt. Ready to turn and show her.
“You were falling all over the place, really banging yourself up. He worried that Adrian had given you something a lot stronger than booze. He tried to ask you what was going on and you showed him these hickeys all over your chest.”
My eyes shot open. Maya’s face was twisted in disgust like someone had forced her to eat shit. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey from my fist, glaring at me while she drank.
“Not hickeys…and that was later when we danced,” I stammered, remembering how he held me close and peered down my shirt. Yes, those marks had looked like hickeys. I’d noticed that myself the next day, but he knew. “He knew—”
She interrupted, “I know. You danced at the end of the night and you promised him never again. You guys decided to forget it had happened. He loves you so much and just wanted to forgive you…”
I slammed my head backward against the tile, trying to destroy the memory of the soft look in Christian’s eyes when he’d said to me, “Never again. Let’s forget this happened.”
I hit my head again, cursing myself for being so stupid. Christian had known it would come out. And while I was trying to pull myself together so I could fake it for the sake of our friends, our makeshift little family, he was covering his ass so that when everything fell apart, I would be the one to lose them. I angrily snatched the whiskey from Maya, demanding, “When did he tell you this?” before taking a swig.
“I stopped by to see him on New Year’s Day. I knew that Liam had talked to you about Adrian and was worried that you might break up with Christian-”
“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Maya wrenched the bottle back. “Because you weren’t the one getting hurt.”
“Oh my god.” I started to cackle. “Oh my god.”
“But before I could even explain to Christian why I was there, he burst into tears and told me about your fight and how determined he was to stay with you.” Maya mimicked Christian: “‘I love her so much, Maya. She’s the only girl in the world for me.’” She pounded her fist against the stall wall, shaking it. “Why would you throw away love like that for someone like Adrian, Kara? And if you’re going to, just break up with Christian instead of faking sick to go off and do heroin with Adrian!”
“What? Where’d you get that idea?”
“Oh, come on! You’re asleep every time we call. More like strung out…”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d been in bed trying to get strong, to get past this for Liam and Maya, and I’d played right into Christian’s hands. I pushed myself off the wall, fumbling for the lock on the stall door. “You’re right. I’ll go break up with good, honorable Christian. And then I’m off to get high with Adrian. That’s what I do.”
“Kara.” Maya’s voice softened. I felt her hand on my shoulder. “Please, I want to help you. I don’t want to see you become a drug addict.”
I turned back to her, sobbing. “I’m not a drug addict!” I took a deep breath, hoping desperately that despite being fed Christian’s lies for six days, she’d believe me. “Christian really hurt me on New Year’s Eve. Like hurt me hurt me. These are not hickeys.” I yanked my shirt down to the top of my bra, revealing the stretch of bruises across my chest.
Maya’s face froze in an expression I would have expected from a disapproving parent: her lips tightened into a straight line, brow wrinkled, eyes dark. She quickly knocked my hands away so the bruises were hidden once more. “That is seriously fucked-up, Kara. You’re accusing Christian of abusing you? He would never hurt anyone. Especially not you, he loves you.”
My mouth dropped open. “Maya, he tried to choke me. Remember that night in Scoville when he grabbed Mary? It was like that, but worse because I have this stupid ring around my neck.” I pounded it against my chest to demonstrate how the bruises formed. Pain rippled through me, but I didn’t wince. Pain gave me the strength to do what I should have done on New Year’s Eve.
I put my thumb through the ring and tugged, snapping the thin gold chain. The chain skidded across the bathroom floor and I stomped on it as I stormed out, Maya trailing me.
Our booth was just a few feet away from the bathroom. I marched up to Christian and whipped the ring at his chest, snarling, “You can have this back. Give it to Maya. She loves you so much she doesn’t care what you do. Even to her best friend.”
Then I fled Denny’s like I’d doused it with gasoline and lit a match. Running as fast as I could in case someone snapped out of shock and followed me, I zigzagged through slushy alleys and side streets. Since I had nowhere else to go, I decided to head to Shelly’s, get really wasted, and forget everything.
Bull’s-eye on the intoxicated part-when I snuck in through Shelly’s back door, I found her and Harlan in the kitchen setting out Jell-O shots-but so much for forgetting my situation.
“Hey, sexy,” Harlan purred. “Where’s Maya and the boys?”
“I didn’t know Jell-O came in purple,” I said, ignoring his question and slurping one of the wiggly, delicious creations.
“Grape,” Shelly told me, tucking her blond curls behind her ears. “Harlan made those. I made these.
” She handed me a bright green shot the unnatural color of Harlan’s recently dyed hair. “Apple,” she added as I swallowed it.
“Purple’s stronger.” I commandeered three grape shots.
“Are the others still at Denny’s or something?” Harlan was so persistent, practically as gossipy as Jessica and Mary.
“Mmm-hmm,” I agreed through another shot. After all, they probably still were. With the other two shots tucked firmly in my fists, I disappeared to the basement before Harlan could point out how weird it was that I’d arrived alone.
The outlook for avoiding interrogation downstairs was equally grim. It was only seven thirty, too early to be crowded, but everyone I didn’t want to see had already arrived. I spotted Adrian sitting with Quentin on a corner couch. Jessica and Mary stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for boys to throw themselves at or girls to torture.
“What, no entourage tonight, Kara?” Jessica snarked.
“She doesn’t have an entourage,” Mary corrected. “She’s just Christian’s groupie.”
It took all my willpower not to pound her for that. Fortunately for her, I had my hands full of shots. I strode with determination toward the source of more alcohol and found to my delight that Gonzo, lumberjack-size king of small talk, was stationed by the keg. I said hello and he poured me a beer, immediately launching into a theory about how all the early settlers in America were crazy because of this mold that grew on their bread.
“These Puritans were, like, trippin’ their faces off every day when they ate!” he informed me, gesticulating wildly with his gargantuan hands.
“Cool.” I nodded, relieved that this conversation would not lead to any questions about where my “entourage” was.
After three beers and four shots, I continued to chat with Gonzo about absolutely nothing and Shelly’s basement filled to the usual Friday-night capacity. Even though I stood near the keg, no one bothered me because Gonzo held my rapt attention.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harlan descending the basement stairs. He wobbled with each step, ready to pitch forward and fall. I shoved my beer into Gonzo’s hand and took off toward Harlan.
Guiding him the rest of the way down, I asked, “Dude, how many shots did you do?”
“I don’t think it’s the shots,” he slurred with a woozy smile. “Vicodin. Shelly told her doctor she gets bad cramps to get it. Good stuff. Better than codeine. Want some?” He fumbled in the pockets of his oversize jeans.
“No, I don’t think so.” The way I felt that evening made it tempting, but staggering, cross-eyed, unableto-control-his-own-spit Harlan lessened the Vicodin-alcohol appeal.
His eyes suddenly widened. “Uhhmagawd!” His excitement was clear even though his words weren’t. He rubbed his lips back and forth in an attempt to wake them up. Somehow it worked and he became easier to understand. “I forgot to show you something. I dyed my pubes green to match my hair!”
Before I could emit an oh-no sound of distress, his hand moved from pocket to fly and he shoved his shiny maroon boxers down to reveal the top of his crop. His pubes were indeed fluorescent green.
“Okay, I saw. Zip it up!” I squeezed my eyes shut, gesturing at his fly. But, problematically, I wasn’t the only one who saw. We were near enough to the dance floor to have one of the roving lights shine on us at the worst possible moment. Conversations and dancing stopped.
Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered. Everyone would have gone back to their business, writing it off as just another weird event at one of Shelly’s parties: “Remember that time Harlan flashed Kara…” Maybe Mary and Jessica would have recast things: “Kara almost gave Harlan a blow job in front of everyone.” But no one else would have interpreted it that way.
No one but Christian.
He, Maya, and Liam happened to come down the stairs at precisely the wrong time. Before I could even open my eyes to make sure Harlan had zipped, Christian’s voice boomed in my ear. “What the hell? Are you so pissed at me that you’re gonna play with his dick in public?”
Harlan said, “No, dude, I was just showing her my pubes.” Before he could ask Christian if he wanted to see and subsequently get himself killed, Maya yanked Harlan out of the way. She did not return to rescue me.
Christian’s face reddened like dangerously hot coal and his eyes locked on mine. I shook my head and veered for the stairs. “Fuck you. This has nothing to do with you,” I snapped, not even interested in explaining the situation. Just being in Shelly’s house with him made my bruises throb.
Christian, big and menacing as a bull, slid to the side, blocking my exit. “This has everything to do with me. You can’t just mess around with Harlan in front of everyone, it makes us both look like fools.”
“Why?” I scoffed. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Remember?”
I stretched the collar of my T-shirt down to the top of my bra, clearly revealing my bruises. Well, it was clear to Christian, anyway. I glanced around the room, noting the bewildered expressions of everyone else. Harlan squinted, confused, in my direction. Maya knew from a distance what I was showing off and was stone-faced, as she’d been in the bathroom. Mary and Jessica animatedly whispered to each other. Then my gaze drifted to the top of the stairs, where I saw Liam staring, appalled. I quickly released my shirt. No one was close enough to tell that I was bruised. I just looked crazy or slutty or both.
“I. Apologized. To. You.” Christian gnashed his teeth between each word.
He spoke softly, trying to keep our conversation private, but I shouted, “I think I made it pretty damn clear at Denny’s that I couldn’t accept your apology!” I took another step in the direction of the stairs. I had to get up there and explain this whole thing to my brother, who wore that same numb-but-about-to-freak expression as when my parents announced their divorce.
Like my partner in a violent dance, Christian wrenched me toward him, pinning my left arm to his chest. Glaring down his nose at me, he snarled, “You and I are not done.”
“Yes, we are!” As much as it hurt, I jerked my wrist from his grip, twisting out of the left sleeve of my cardigan. Nodding down at my bruised arm, I loudly declared, “See why!” so that all people pretending to ignore our little lover’s quarrel would take notice.
“Kara, let’s not make a scene here.” Christian tried to shove my bare arm back into its sleeve. “I wish you wouldn’t hurt yourself like you do…”
“Like I do?” I shouted indignantly.
Mary and Jessica had edged closer for gossip’s sake, but now that she could see my bruises, Mary sided with me. “Christian, she obviously couldn’t have done that to herself—”
“Back off, Mary!” Christian growled.
“Why don’t you back the fuck off, Christian?” A low, rumbling voice came from behind me. Adrian stalked over from the couch he’d been occupying. He withdrew the butterfly knife he always carried from his pocket and flicked it open.
Christian’s teeth ground together like his jaw was being tightened with a screwdriver. “What, so you can have her? You caused this whole situation.”
“I’m not a possession and this has nothing to do with Adrian!” I seethed, still struggling to get loose.
Adrian took long strides, but didn’t quicken his pace. “I don’t really give a shit what the situation is, but if you’ve still got your hands on her when I get over there I’ll cut them off.”
Christian’s hold slackened and he took off up the stairs. I swept my sweater around me and leaned against the railing, breathing deeply.
Adrian cackled. “That kid has always been the biggest wuss.”
Mary snapped at him. “Shut up, this isn’t some tough-guy contest. Kara’s upset.”
I felt an unfamiliar hand on my shoulder. Mary’s gaze probed mine when I looked up. I shirked her off. “Don’t try to be nice to me. You’ve never been nice to me!”
Mary’s hands shot up in surrender. “Fine, whatever!” She stomped upstairs, Jessica following, riding Mar
y’s coattails for once.
I hadn’t meant to shout at Mary. She’d fallen victim to Christian’s temper before, too. If anyone knew how I felt, it was her. My bitterness was really aimed at Maya. Where the hell was my supposed best friend? Why was one of our enemies defending me instead? I looked around the room for Maya, but she’d disappeared. Worried, I glanced at the top of the stairs, trying to locate Liam, knowing I really needed to explain everything to him, but he’d also gone. Probably with Christian.
“Great,” I mumbled. I wanted another shot or preferably a shotgun. My roaming eyes finally landed on Adrian, who’d remained beside me, and I must have been wearing the most pathetic expression, because next thing I knew he had his arms around me.
He wove his fingers in the back of my short hair. “I’ll kill him if you want me to.”
The dam burst. Tears dripped down my face and into Adrian’s long curls. “I just wanna forget him,” I whimpered.
“Okay. Let’s get out of here, then.” His husky voice reminded me of last summer. Before Christian.
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
“I missed you,” Adrian whispered as we started upstairs.
I took hold of his hand. “I missed you more.”
He wrapped his arm protectively around me, guiding me toward the front door.
Christian stood at the shadowed far end of the porch. I intended to hold my head high as we descended to the sidewalk, but found I couldn’t look at him. I folded inward against Adrian’s chest and felt his mouth brush the top of my head. Maybe I appreciated his gentleness. Maybe I did it out of reflex. But when Adrian and I reached his car, we were kissing. I couldn’t even feel the eyes from the porch that weighed on us. It was so easy to slip back into old patterns.
Adrian took me to his house and I leaned against the headboard of his bed as he lit our second bowl. We sat facing each other, knee-to-knee, like we had at Shelly’s the night we’d first kissed. The pot rushed directly to my head, reinstating the powerful buzz I had going before Christian showed up. I’d intended to calm down and go looking for Liam, but getting high felt so good.
Ballads of Suburbia Page 22
