Eighteen (18)

by J. A. Huss

“I know.” I shoot him an annoyed look and walk out the back door.

  When I get home, Jason is looking out the front window like he’s been waiting for me.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Fucking finally. I told you to be here by six so I can work.”

  “You never said six.” I stop by little Olivia’s swing and bend down, but she’s fast asleep. “You asked me to help watch her in the evenings. Fine. But I have night school every day. So I’ll come home when I’m done. And if you think I’m giving up my weekends—”

  “Giving up?” he sneers. “She’s your fucking niece.”

  “Right. But I’m eighteen, Jason. I’m too young to be her mother. You’re her father and I’m sorry you got mixed up with my sister—”

  “Watch your fucking mouth.” He cuts me off. “You’re not going to talk about Jill like that now that she’s dead.”

  “Talk about her?” I scoff. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You think you knew her? Well, you didn’t. She took an engagement ring from the last guy too, you know. And the one before that and the one before that. So don’t go thinking you’re special—”

  He’s across the apartment and slapping my face before I can even finish my sentence. “Fuck you,” he says, grabbing my hair and pulling me towards him. “Fuck you.”

  “You’re gonna regret that,” I say, pushing him hard in the chest. He lets go of my hair and turns away. “You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

  “No tears this time? No running off to slut around with Phil’s piece-of-shit cousin?”

  “You know what, you can find another babysitter. I don’t need to stay here and if you think I’m going to let you raise her with that temper, you’re wrong.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” He turns back, eyes blazing. “You just said yourself, I’m her father. You’re no one to her. I can walk out of here with her tonight and you’ll never see her again.”

  “Did you ever ask yourself,” I say, my voice low and filled with venom, “how many men Jill was sleeping with while she was with you?”

  “Liar,” he says. “Liar.” But he knows it’s not a lie. I can see it in his eyes.

  “You’re not even on the birth certificate because you two weren’t married when Olivia was born.”

  “You little fucking liar.”

  “So maybe I’m the only family Olivia has. And maybe you’re the one who’s nobody?”

  He turns around, grabs his keys and his jacket, and slams the door behind him as he leaves.

  I palm my cheek as I check on Olivia. It stings, but it’s nothing like the last blow. I really do need to get out of here. And telling Jason that shit about Jill was not the best way to handle things. What if he starts believing that? What if he never comes home and I am the only one left in this world who cares about Olivia? How the fuck would I take care of an infant?

  No, it was definitely not a good idea to plant that thought in his head.

  A knock at the slider makes me jump.

  Mateo is staring back at me from the other side of the glass. Fuck, I hope he didn’t just see that.

  “Hey,” I say, opening the door. He’s holding a brown bag in his hands, looking strangely at me. “What?”

  “Dinner,” he says. “Did I just hear yelling?”

  “Yeah, Jason’s a dick. He was mad because apparently he thought I was supposed to be here at six so he can work his night job.”

  Mateo stares at me for a second, but then he looks over his shoulder at the alley, like he’s distracted. “You said you wanted me to feed you, so… I gotta go.”

  And then he walks through the gate and disappears in the alley. Fucker. What the hell am I doing with that guy anyway? In the heat of the moment it makes sense. I’m horny and I just want someone to pay attention to me. But I don’t like feeling this way afterward.

  There is a part of me that wants to run back to Ohio and pretend the last year never happened, but there’s nowhere to go. I have no family there and my friends aren’t in any position to take care of me.

  And Olivia. I look down at her sleeping body all snuggled up in blankets in the swing. Jason is an asshole, but he seems to love her. I should’ve shut up about Jill.

  I take a bag of food inside and put it on the counter. There’s a note stapled to it, making it look like a delivery receipt. That makes me smile. I tug the piece of paper free from the staple and open it up.

  Shannon,

  Remind me to tell you why I have take-out containers and know how to make lasagna from scratch.

  And stay the fuck away from Danny Alexander. I mean it.

  M

  Fucker.

  But I smile. Even though he creeps me out, he does it in all the right ways. And even though he’s a teacher and he’s fucking me on the side, he’s still putting me first by making me work. And even though he wants me to do that work naked and my reward for success is sex, I can’t help but trust him.

  I’ll probably regret that soon. I usually do.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hey, Daydreams!” Sunday calls from across Lincoln Avenue as I wait at the light to cross. He’s wearing a Distillers t-shirt and some faded jeans with holes in all the right places. I can see a patch of bare skin on one of his thighs.

  I walk across the street smiling big at him and when I get close enough so I don’t have to shout over traffic, I say, “I know for a fact you didn’t see The Distillers in concert to get that shirt because the last time they toured the US was more than ten years ago.”

  “Hey.” He laughs and beams that dangerous grin at me. Jesus, Danny Alexander is fuck hot. “You caught me. But they stopped here in Anaheim on that last tour and Phil went. I stole it from him.”

  “Hmm,” I say, pretending to think this over as we walk onto campus. “I guess second-hand concert shirts still count as authentic.”

  “Whew,” he says, making a big deal of wiping his brow. “I thought I lost street cred with you for a second.”

  “Were you waiting for me?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Mmmm, well, usually you park your car and start your little bromance with the boys in the lot. But today you are standing at the corner where I cross the street to school.”

  “It’s that obvious, huh?”

  “Pretty obvious, yeah.”

  “Well, it’s Thursday, so I wanted to see if that ex of yours is an ex yet. And if so, maybe we can hang out tomorrow night?”

  “Ah,” I say. “He’s still around. And I’m not going anywhere. I babysit my niece on Friday nights.”

  “Too bad. I know of a good party.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. And I’m not much of a party girl these days anyway. I’d just slow you down.”

  “I’d slow down for you, Shannon.”

  I stop to look at him, taking a deep breath as I do it. “Are you hitting on me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, I—”

  “Hey.” He stops me with hands in the air. “I’m not making a move for real until you say you’re ready, so don’t worry about that. But I’m gonna wait it out, if that’s OK with you. And I’m gonna keep asking. I have staying power, Daydreams.” And then he gives me this little salute and turns and walks off.

  I stare at his ass for a few seconds before turning in the opposite direction. Damn. Why is it that I have no one interested for a whole month, then on the same day I meet two guys who want to take me for a spin? It’s not fair. Why couldn’t Danny appear after I was done with night school with Mateo?

  Maybe that’s what I should do? Just get that work done as fast as possible and put night school behind me? I know I can get that science credit in a couple weeks tops. There’s only like twelve tests. I might be able to knock out most of them over the weekend. Then I’d only have trig. There’s a lot more of those tests because it’s a full year’s worth of work. But I could take two a week and be done pretty fast.

  I don’t know what to do about Mateo. I j
ust don’t think I have the power it will take to stop this now. I’m caught in a web, right? The more I struggle against him, the harder he’ll try. And the harder he tries, the weaker I’ll become.

  I can see it coming.

  Yeah, I need to just get the fuck out of night school. Then he won’t have anything to hold over me and I won’t have to see him anymore.

  I walk into design class a few seconds after the bell rings and the teacher, Mrs. Sheridan, is handing out laptops from giant plastic tubs.

  “Everyone,” she says. “Shannon”—she singles me out because I’m late—“get in line and sign out your laptop.”

  I took a lot of graphic design classes, and this design class is senior level, so we’re going to make websites. I’m kind of excited about it as I sign out my laptop and take it back to my desk.

  “You will be assigned a site where you can legally download images…” She goes on about all the stuff they’re providing for us in class. Each laptop is loaded with Adobe software, and we will be expected to deliver a fully functional personal website one week before the end of the semester.

  “You need to come up with a domain name that is not already taken and we will register it for you. Treat this project as a resume…” she goes on.

  I’m ten steps ahead of her. I’ve got Photoshop up and I’m already cruising for images from the stock art site. Personal website… I’ll have to think about that. I don’t have any idea what I want to do after graduation, so that makes it a lot more difficult to decide who my target audience might be.

  I get lost in the project and the period flies by way too fast.

  “Nice, Shannon,” Mrs. Sheridan says, looking over my shoulder at my notepad after the bell rings. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  “Thanks,” I say, reluctantly packing up my stuff. I secretly hope Fowler is absent in PE so I can skip out for the period and continue working, but no such luck. When I get to the gym, he’s standing there with a clipboard just outside the locker room.

  “So glad you could join us,” Fowler sarcastically says.

  “Ditto, Fowler,” I say back. He’s one to talk. I’m like one minute late. He never showed on Wednesday. My phone buzzes in my pants as I walk to my locker to change into the shorts we are required to wear. I don’t have a gym uniform. Fuck that. I have better things to spend my money on than a stupid pair of shorts and a t-shirt from a school I don’t give a shit about. So I wear some oversized black cargos and a P!nk tank top.

  I check the message on my phone before leaving the locker room.

  Mateo.

  Hey, how did his name get into my phone? Sneaky motherfucker.

  Mateo: The last thing I said to you was stay away from Danny Alexander and who are you walking onto campus with this morning?

  Shannon: Creep. He came up to me and we had a laugh. Get over it.

  Mateo: Shannon, I’m not jealous. I’m worried. He’s bad news. So stay away from him.

  I sigh and stuff my phone into my pocket. Sunday doesn’t seem that bad to me. Of course, I met him a few days ago, so what do I know.

  Just then I see Mary and Josie waiting for me at the picnic table. They get up to start our mandatory three laps and I fall in next to them. “Hey,” I say. “Do you guys know Danny Alexander?”

  They erupt into a fit of laughter.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”

  “Everyone knows Danny Alexander,” Mary says.

  “Mary wants to jump his—”

  “Stop!” Mary squeals.

  “Oh, my God,” I say. “Sorry.”

  “Why do you want to know?” Josie asks.

  “Oh, well, he’s…”

  “He is not!” Mary squeals again. “He likes you?”

  “Maybe?” I shrug. “But I have a boyfriend so I’m not interested.”

  “Yes, you are,” Josie says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking us about him.”

  “True.” I laugh. “But I’ve been hearing some things about him. Is he bad news?”

  “Definite bad boy,” Josie says.

  “But oh, my God. I’d still do him,” Mary says.

  “Like what kind of bad boy?” I ask. “Wears a leather jacket and has tattoos kind of bad boy? Rides a motorcycle kind of bad boy?” Jesus, I just described Mateo.

  “Bad boy like his cousin, Phil Alexander, is the biggest drug dealer in Anaheim.”

  “Phil?”

  “You know him?” Mary asks.

  “Yeah, he lives down the street from me. Gets me high every once in a while. He’s some old friend of my brother-in-law’s.”

  “I rest my case,” Josie says.

  “Yeah, but smoking a joint and biggest drug dealer in Anaheim are not the same thing,” I say. Phil? I just don’t see it. He’s so cool to me.

  “He does a lot more than smoke a few joints, Shannon. I’d stay away from that place.”

  “But Danny lives in the garage apartment behind the house.”

  “I hear they’ve been trying to bust Phil for years and he always gets off.”

  “Yeah, there was some big sting operation about six months ago but some fancy lawyer from LA showed up and made the whole department look like fools,” Mary says.

  “Oh.” I sigh. “But is Danny involved?”

  “Who knows,” Josie says. “He sells joints across the street at the arcade. Why do you think a guy like that hangs out in a nickel arcade? He’s not playing Pac-Man.”

  “Hmmm.” He does hang out there. Mark, the owner, is another of Jason’s childhood friends. He’s smoked me out a few times in the back room. And it is a pretty stupid place. I mean I only go there to get high, so it makes sense that Danny would be selling pot.

  Still. “Well, Danny seems nice.”

  “Oh, he’s nice all right. He’s even nice to me,” Mary says. “And pretty much everyone but you guys pretend I don’t exist.”

  “Aww,” I say. “I’m sorry. I know the feeling.”

  “If I could see him coming, I’d take my chances too,” Josie says. “But hell, these glasses are mostly for looks. I can’t make out faces unless people are right on top of me.”

  “He picked up your books that one time, remember?”

  “How could I forget,” Josie says in a dreamy voice.

  “So he is nice?” I ask.

  “I think he is,” Mary says. “I don’t care what his cousin does. He’s always been nice to me, even back in the second grade when the kids used to steal my crutches. He beat someone up for me. Gave him a black eye and everything.”

  “Dreamy Danny,” I say.

  “Dreamy Danny.” They both sigh.

  Mateo is wrong. I trust these two more than I’d ever trust him. He’s got an ulterior motive. He wants to fuck me and he wants Danny to keep his distance so he can continue to do that.

  I really need to get that night school work done. I need to get the hell away from Mateo Alesci.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I take the bus to Gilbert and turn in five more tests for science. I’m jumpy, so I just put my head down and work.

  “You’re flying through them,” the teacher, whose name I never got, says. “That’s what? Nine? You’ll be done next week.”

  “That’s the point, right?”

  “I think the point is to learn something.”

  “Well, I’m not the one who said all I have to do to pass with a C is take the unit tests open-book. Expectations come from the top. Even my dumb eighteen-year-old ass knows that.”

  “I’m not picking a fight with you, Shannon. You’re free to take the C, but you could get an A with just the tiniest bit of effort.”

  “I shouldn’t have to take this stupid class in the first place. Why should I care if I get nothing out of it? It’s a waste of time and I’m being forced to give up my afternoons to placate some idiot board member who made that stupid rule about when kids are allowed to take science and math credits.”

  The whole class is looking
at me.

  “Forget it,” I say, walking back to my desk. I grab my stuff and head out of the class, but the teacher follows me. I try to escape to the bathroom, but he grabs my arm.

  “Is something wrong?” he asks.

  “Why would something be wrong? I just completed half a semester’s worth of work in a week. How is that leading you to believe something is wrong?”

  Just then Mateo walks around the corner. He narrows his eyes as he approaches. “Everything OK here?” he asks.

  “I was just trying to figure that out myself,” science teacher says. “She’s having a bad day, I think. I didn’t mean to upset you, Shannon. I’m happy you’re getting your work done quickly. And I’m sorry you got caught in the red tape.” He shrugs, looks at Mateo like he can take over, and then walks back to his classroom.

  I escape into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall so I can smoke. No one gives a fuck if I smoke in here. There are no teachers patrolling hallways. If that science teacher’s expectations are low, the office staff’s expectations are nonexistent.

  This might be the most shocking thing about school here in Anaheim.

  No one gives a fuck.

  No one gives a fuck about the kids, no one gives a fuck about the curriculum, no one gives a fuck about the rules. Oh, unless the rules are seniors with seven extra credits have to take an entire year of math and science over again for no reason. Suddenly everyone gives a fuck about that rule.

  Back in Ohio everyone gave a fuck.

  I’m not judging too harshly, either. I’m not overreacting. I’ve been to three high schools in California since I got here a year ago, and each one has some non-fuck-giving staff trying to make me give a fuck.

  Why should I give a fuck?

  I think I’ll just continue to say fuck in my thoughts all day long. Maybe that will make me give a fuck?

  “You’re stupid, Shannon,” I whisper to myself as I smoke. But it makes me smile. I check my phone and I’m already late for trig. It’s five-twenty. Maybe Mateo went home?

  God, I hope he went home. I don’t know why I’m so pissed off, but I am. I’m pissed about everything. The credits thing, the night school shit, the teacher calling me on my temper tantrum, Mateo and his weirdness.