by P. Dangelico
I snort. “Umm, okay. I’m sorry I asked. Now I have to go to sleep with that image in my head.”
She throws a French fry at me and I laugh.
Scanning the crowd, I spot Chief Brandt leaning against the side of a round pen with a hand tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. Out of uniform, wearing a black button-down and jeans, he actually seems more threatening. As if the uniform is the only thing keeping him in check. He reminds me of a lone, dark wolf amongst a pack of bland golden boys…and the big bad wolf is staring at my sister.
“I don’t know if Jonah is the type to hogtie, Be. You might want to look elsewhere for that.”
She doesn’t hear me though, too absorbed in watching Jonah get in line at the ice cream stand. Bebe gets up from the table and drops the rest of her hot dog in the trash. “I’m feeling like ice cream right now.”
“I bet you are,” I deadpan. “I’m going to walk around while you do that.”
She doesn’t even bother answering, already on her way over.
* * *
While Bebe does her thing, I wander through the fair. There’s no way I’m going back to the Rowdy’s stand to be subjected to any more humiliation at the hands of those two. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.
The crowd around the PBR tent is deep. Two of the bigger names on the circuit are in attendance, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A guy I recognize from high school spots me and waves me over.
“Well if it isn’t Maren Murphy in the flesh.” Jimmy tips his Stetson back and flashes me a big, white grin.
I roll my eyes and laugh. Jimmy was always a great big flirt. It’s then I realize his shirt is embroidered with sponsor logos. “When did you go pro?”
“Four years ago.” Jimmy’s smile melts. “With Rowdy’s help. I’m so sorry, Maren.”
“Yeah––me too.”
“Hey listen, you don’t mind signing some autographs for donations, do you?”
“I’d love to.”
Jimmy grabs a microphone while I take a seat on one of the vacant director’s chairs under the banner.
“Folks, listen up. Not only do we have some of your favorite bull riders here today, but we’ve also got the granddaughter of one of the greatest of all time, Rowdy Ronald Murphy. Please help me welcome Wimbledon winner, Maren Murphy.”
Cheers erupt, the crowd builds, and for the next hour I’m busy signing autographs, taking pictures, and accepting condolences for Rowdy’s passing. By the time night rolls out, I’m ready to find my sister and head home.
It’s then that Noah very casually strolls up. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a Rowdy’s logo tight enough to show every curve of his chest.
My blood still sizzling from earlier, I ignore him. Truth is, I needed a reality check. I should thank him for reminding me how much he hurt me. It’s easy to forget that I should be mad at him.
He nods at Jimmy and Jimmy nods back.
“Jim.”
“Noah.” They exchanged a weird look.
Gimme a break.
“What do you want?” His appearance begs the question. He’s obviously not here for an autograph. “Don’t you have employees to intimidate?”
“Did that already.” His lips quiver, fighting a smile. I sniff and look away.
“An ex-girlfriend to cheat with?” Yep, I went there. “What, no snappy comeback?”
“You didn’t come by your stand.”
At the sound of him calling Rowdy’s mine, my gaze returns to him. Expression now sober, Noah delves into the front pocket of his jeans and retrieves cash. He holds up two crisp C notes and stuffs them in the donation jar.
“I’ll take a kiss.”
The gall of this muther... “The hell you will.”
“Whoa, Callahan,” Jimmy adds.
Eyes blazing, fixed on me, Noah says, “Jim––take a hike around the block.”
“Jimmy, do not do that.”
When Jimmy doesn’t move, Noah’s head swivels in his direction and a glaring match ensues.
Oh brother.
“You know what, Jimmy, let me deal with this.”
“You sure?” Jimmy’s voice is warm and his brown eyes warmer, hardening when they cut back to Noah. “Because I can escort him out of here.”
Noah chuckles. Jimmy isn’t built as robustly as Noah but he’s no slouch, either. He rides bulls for a living. He’s not going to go down easily. I’m almost tempted to let him try.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m leaving soon anyway.”
With a nod and a peck on the cheek, Jimmy leaves. Not before saying, “He gives you any trouble, Maren, and I’ll be back.”
Eyes narrowed, my attention returns to Noah. “This isn’t a kissing booth, jackass.”
He hides a smile beneath a cough. “Afraid you might like it? I get why that would be awkward for you.”
I’m so desperate to slap the humor off his face, my good hand gets a nervous twitch. “I’m more afraid you might cry. Still shouting mommy when you finish?”
He places his hands on the armrests of my chair and slowly leans forward. I do not move. I do not recoil. I refuse to let him think he can intimidate me. Face-to-face, I breathe in the air we share. For a moment I think he’s going to do it, kiss me, and my chest gets hot and tight, my heart punching my breastbone.
“You have me mistaken with your current boyfriend.” His voice is a low, seductive murmur. “The only person shouting when we were together was you, and if I recall correctly, mostly the Lord’s name in vain.” His liquid-fire eyes soften and slide from my eyes to my lips. “Don’t worry, He forgives you.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper-hiss, low enough that only he can hear.
“Any time, baby. Any time.”
Well that does it. My frustration peaks and blows, boiling over into fury. “I was right. You haven’t changed one bit.”
I don’t know what game he’s playing. I have no idea what his intentions are, but I’m not going to be part of them.
I lean left, looking around him. “I’m done, folks,” I say, speaking to the rest of the people waiting for autographs. A bunch of groans meet my announcement. “Thank you for supporting the PBR.”
I hop off the high chair and push at his chest to get past him. He falls back easily. Before I can get away however, he grabs my upper arm.
“I’ve changed.”
He looks so serious I almost want to laugh in his face. Instead I take off, darting quickly behind one of the tents so we don’t make a scene again.
“Maren!”
Something in his voice stops me. Belatedly, I recognize it as a broken note of distress. I turn and see the struggle on his face, the vein in the middle of his forehead in stark relief. The one I know pops up when he’s really upset. For a moment it gets my full attention.
“Are you in love with him?”
Time to strap in for another emotional rollercoaster ride. I shake my head in disbelief.
“Why do you care?” The disbelief turns into frustration. “What difference does it make? Where do you even get the balls to ask me that!”
“Are you?” His voice is low and quiet and it saps me of my will to hurt him. I don’t have it in me to be mean when he won’t fight back. So I do the only thing I can, I give him the truth.
“I love him.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Well, that’s all you’re getting.”
“Ready to go?” Annabelle suddenly appears out of nowhere, bright-eyed and face oddly flushed. Her blue eyes bounce between the two of us.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell her while my attention remains on Noah. “I’ve seen all I needed to see.”
Chapter Twelve
Maren
Noah and I never dated in high school. In tenth grade Noah started dating Crystal Roy. She was fifteen. She was gorgeous. She had a C cup. I was twelve and a half, and had scabs on my knees. There was no contest.
It was only natural that I gradually started seeing less
of him. He was the star wide receiver on the football team and when he wasn’t devoting his time to team-related activities during the season, he was spending it with her.
We still had our video game battles once a week. I looked forward to those like a meth head looks forward to their next fix. And he still made time to come to a few of my matches, the ones held at the Westwood Tennis Center in Norman or Oklahoma City Tennis Center. And as always, unless I was traveling for a tournament, I always attended his home games. So it wasn’t a total loss. But as the years trudged on the difference in age became abundantly clear.
Somehow my adolescent, cockamamie mind had convinced itself that it was the only obstacle preventing us from living happily-ever-after. So I bided my time. I truly believed that once I became a freshman he would dump nice, gorgeous, perfect Crystal and confess his undying love for me.
That did not happen.
The first house party I ever attended, one of only a handful, happened in the fall of my freshman year. The braces were history, the chubby thighs whittled down by a growth spurt and a lot of exercise. It was time for my big move. I was so nervous slash excited I spent hours picking out what to wear before finally deciding on jeans and an off-the-shoulder blousy top. Mind you I had like…under five shirts to choose from and yet it still took me forever. I was basically born wearing a polo and shorts so this was a big deal for me.
The varsity football team had won an important game that day and everyone was looking to celebrate. The house party was well under way by the time I got there. Cars were double-parked up and down the street. The music filtering out of the house was so loud I was surprised the cops hadn’t already been called. The air inside was practically humid from all the sweaty bodies and booze crammed into one medium-sized home.
Since I didn’t have any girlfriends, I asked some of the girls on the high school tennis team if I could tag along with them. Although I was already competing on a national level by then, traveling the weekends for tournaments, I still practiced with them from time to time. I didn’t know any of them very well so I wasn’t totally surprised when they ditched me to hang with their friends as soon as we got there.
Frankly, it would’ve surprised me if they hadn’t; there was always a bit of envy there. However, they couldn’t completely hate me since practicing against me helped them crush their opponents on other high school teams.
As I made my way through the house, I noticed most of the varsity football players crowded in the living room. Scanning the group, I found Noah and Crystal among them, sitting on the couch. Crystal was draped across Noah’s lap with one arm slung around his neck, her remora mouth suctioned to the side of his throat while he laughed at something Dane had said.
I’d lost my nerve by then, fully expecting someone to realize I didn’t belong and ask me to leave so I tried to walk across the room as unobtrusively as possible, skirting the edge. I was almost free and clear into the next room when he saw me.
I’ll never forget how his smile slowly melted while his eyes ran from my tight jeans to the top of my head, pausing to frown at the makeup on my face. And the deeper his frown got, the hotter my face felt. In return, I gave him a super lame wave, and an awkward smile and bolted out of there.
I found myself in the den where a few guys and a couple of girls were playing a video game. Two of the guys on the couch I recognized as sophomores on the baseball team. When one got up to get another beer, the other offered me the controller.
“You play?”
I nodded and sat down. Realizing it was Super Mario, I smiled. It was the first time I felt in my element.
“I’m Zach.” He flipped his brown hair streaked with gold out of his hazel eyes.
“Maren.”
“I know who you are. You’re that tennis player, right? You’re like––” He grinned wickedly, a lone dimple popping up on his left cheek. “––too good to play on the school team.”
Zach’s smile was genuine, his teasing harmless. And yet I’d turned purple from embarrassment. Not red, purple. I didn’t want to be thought of as too good for anything. At least, not at school I didn’t. On the court––that was different. There, I always wanted to be known as the best. But not anywhere else.
“No. No…I’m just––”
He laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. That’s cool that you’re really good.” He handed me a Solo cup with skunky smelling beer and when I looked inside he said, “I didn’t spit in it, or nothing. I just got it for myself––promise.”
I really didn’t want to drink the skunky beer, but I also didn’t want Zach, who was being really nice to me, to think I was too good for anything. So I took a few sips, and when Zach smiled, I took a few more.
After that we started playing. And even though I was having a great time with Zach, my mind was still in the other room. I couldn’t get the way Noah had looked at me out of my head.
On the edge of my vision, I could see Noah talking to Dane in the other room. They kept stealing furtive glances my way, Noah still wearing a strangely stern expression. I smiled when our eyes tagged, and when he didn’t smile back, the queasy feeling that something was very wrong only grew stronger.
“You’re really good at this. Am I getting hustled?” he teased.
I laughed and Zach flashed me a wide bright grin, all white teeth and dimples. He was cute and nice, and he made me glad I had decided to come to the party. I thought it ironic that a total stranger was making me feel welcome and my best friend was making me feel increasingly more uncomfortable.
When Zach’s friend returned, he was not happy to see me sitting in his spot. “Dude?”
“Fuck off, Logan. She’s ten times better than you.” When Logan didn’t move, Zach threw an arm across the back of the couch. I wasn’t clueless to the fact that he was interested. Over the course of the night Zach had incrementally gotten closer, our thighs touching, our arms brushing against each other. He was staking a claim. You could see it in the way he glared at his friend, and having received the message, Logan left.
By the time Zach got his ass handed to him in three consecutive games, I’d finished the beer and needed to visit the bathroom. I got up from the couch, and so did he, following closely. Close enough that I could feel his breath on my hair. I didn’t mind it. He was attractive and smelled good and it was nice getting some attention for a change.
Glued to one another we walked into the hallway and Noah mysteriously appeared before us. I was barely tipsy, just enough to take the edge off. Enough to have grown my very first pair of tiny beer muscles. That’s why, although Noah’s heavy scowl did not go unnoticed, it also didn’t make me cower like it would have had I been completely sober.
His glare moved from me to Zach. “The fuck you up to, Gordon?”
I looked over my shoulder in time to watch Zach’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Not much. How ’bout you?”
Noah leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, blocking our way. “Just looking for my friend here.” Without uncrossing his arms, his index finger poked out and waved in my direction. “Found her. You can leave now.”
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder––Zach’s. He laughed. It was dry, humorless and caused heat to flare up my neck. “Oh really, you two know each other?” It was pretty clear Zach didn’t believe Noah, and I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not.
“Get your hand off her.” Noah’s face was so still only his lips moved, his eyes unblinking. The deceptively calm expression didn’t fool me for a minute. Warning bells went off. I just wasn’t sure what the warning was.
Any amusement on Zach’s face fled. “The fuck’s your problem, Calli?”
“It’s okay, Zach. We are friends,” I finally found the courage to say. I had a feeling something terrible was about to happen and I did not want any more attention than we were already garnering.
Zach’s concern-filled eyes met mine. “You sure?”
“Yeah––just give me a minute to talk to him. I�
�ll meet up with you after.” The doubtful look on his face made me press. “I’m not done kicking your ass.” He smiled, and with a last hard look at Noah, continued down the hallway to the bathroom. And while I watched Zach go, I braced for whatever was coming.
My gaze lifted and crashed right into Noah’s hard stare. I stuffed my hands in the front pocket of my jeans, pretending not to be affected by the way he was looking at me, with disapproval. Like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was a low, controlled murmur. And yet I knew the question wasn’t as casual as it sounded. Having used up all my courage currency, I had none left for this, whatever this was.
“I don’t understand?”
“Why are you here?” With every question he asked, my heart beat faster, my face burning. Thankfully, the hallway was dim so I found some comfort knowing that he couldn’t see what he was doing to me.
“To, umm…” I forced the next words out, taking care not to mumble. “To party––like everyone else.” I don’t know why it embarrassed me to say it. I certainly was entitled to have a good time like everyone else, and yet it did.
His head slowly shook. “You don’t party.”
“What’s wrong? You’re acting strange. Is it Zach? He’s been really nice to me.”
“You’re wearing makeup––and tight jeans.”
That shocked me. I mean, it shocked me. He was talking about my clothing? My makeup? Was this a crime? Because if it was, someone needed to tell him his girlfriend wore those things every day. It was the first time in our friendship I can recall being really angry at him. “So?”
“A guy could get the wrong idea, Maren.” His irritation broke through the surface this time, making me flinch. “Gordon was about to follow you into the bathroom. You get what I’m sayin’?”
A cold chill spread over my skin. “No, he wasn’t. And jeans and makeup aren’t going to make anyone do something they weren’t already gonna do.”
“And you’re drinking––” he continued as if he didn’t hear me, eyes wide, drilling into mine. “What the fuck. You’re lucky I was here to stop it. Go home, Maren…You don’t belong here.”
