Bears of Burden: THORN

by Candace Ayers

  He stared at his feet.

  Derrick sat on the bench opposite them also staring at his feet. Kristin went up to him and smacked him on the back of his head. "What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Tate's in bad shape. Go over there and cheer him up."

  He did as she told him, but it was all perfunctory. The two of them sat together, moping, while the rest of the team applauded themselves. They were already planning to meet at Palidio's.

  "I'm passing tonight guys," Derrick told them.

  "Me too," said Tate.

  Kristin stared at the two of them. She knew why Tate was upset, but what was up with Derrick? She finally got him alone when he was leaving.

  "Were you leaving without me?" she asked. They'd been inseparable since the merry-go-round.

  "No. Just getting some air. Kristin, we need to talk."

  Her heart seized. Derrick saw the panic on her face and dropped his duffel, pulling her into a hug. "Oh jeez. I'm sorry, I didn't mean, you know, that 'we need to talk.' I just meant... well, we do need to talk, but not in a bad way."

  Her heart started beating again, for now.

  "Don't scare me like that. What do we need to talk about?" She was still eyeing him suspiciously.

  He didn't want the team overhearing. And reporters were swarming everywhere. "Let's talk back at my place. Cool?" Kristin nodded. She followed him in her car, a ritual they'd begun to establish, and when they got inside she sunk into his cozy couch cushions and almost passed out she was so exhausted.

  The first time she'd seen his place, her eyes had popped out of her head. It was a penthouse suite in a fancy building with a French name, and a gorgeous view of the city from every window. She'd asked how he'd found such a fabulous place so fast, and he'd told her he'd had his assistant take care of it. She hadn't realized until then that he had an assistant.

  "What did your family say?" he asked. She was instantly alert.

  "That I should stay away from you."

  He nodded. "Mine too. But mine also said..." He looked at her full pink lips, her round face and creamy skin against the dark brown of his couch. She looked like Snow White. He didn't care what her parents were, only what she is. "Your parents are hunters," he said. "They kill my kind."

  Kristin's eyes flooded with angry tears. She hated her parents for putting her in this position "I'm sorry," she said, jumping off his couch and throwing her arms around him.

  "For what?"

  "They told me on the phone. I didn't want to believe it. I just... I just…it’s horrible. I wish everyone could be friends again. Like they used to be.”

  He held her tight and smelled her skin. "Maybe they can be," he said.

  She pulled back, watching to see if he was serious. His eyes sparkled. She wondered if she'd ever stop breaking out in goosebumps every time he touched her. She hoped not.

  "Maybe we can throw a big party and invite them all."

  Kristin laughed. "Derrick, I don't think there's any way our parents will agree to be in the same room together, unless they're trying to kill each other."

  "They will if there's a big enough reason for them to come together."

  Something about the look in his eyes made her suspicious. "Like what? You know my parents think they’re psychic, right?"

  Derrick tilted his head. "Are they really?" he asked, curious. She shrugged.

  "Let's find out," he said. "Tell them you're pregnant."

  Chapter 9

  Kristin's parents cried. Derrick's parents cursed her.

  "This is the stupidest, most idiotic plan ever," Kristin said. "I don't know how I ever let you talk me into this." Derrick shrugged. "They didn't seriously curse me, did they?" she asked Derrick, terrified.

  "No, of course not," he said. "Just your family." He smiled to show he was joking, but Kristin didn't laugh.

  The plan, despite Kristin's reservations, had worked. Dinner was planned for late tonight. They'd reserved a private dining room in a ritzy restaurant, hoping to entice their parents with good food and expensive wine. Mostly their parents had agreed to come so that they could talk some sense into the two of them.

  Derrick had insisted she take his credit card and buy something special for the occasion. She'd bought a red dress from Dolce and Gabbana and matching Stella McCartney shoes. When she tried the dress on she felt like she was about to walk down a red carpet. It hugged every curve of her. Her waist and hips filled it out nicely, and her breasts formed a beautiful line of cleavage where most skinny women had a big gap. She wasn't exactly sure it was appropriate for the dinner they were planning, but she didn't care. She'd never owned a dress like that before.

  Kristin got to the restaurant early, wanting to make sure everything was perfect. Derrick had said he'd meet her there. He was picking his parents up from the airport and heading straight to the restaurant. They refused to stay longer than was absolutely necessary.

  Kristin's parent's felt much the same way. She'd tried to convince them to fly in for a few days, see her new place, sightsee, that sort of thing, but they'd only agreed to dinner. One evening, nothing more. They were planning on flying back to Los Angeles right afterwards. They simply didn't want anything to do with Washington. The idea of Derrick and his family had sullied the whole state for them forever.

  When she was shown to their table, she was surprised to find her parents already seated there, sipping wine. Her mom looked beautiful, as always. She had the same red hair as Kristin, though with strands of gray woven through. Her skin was pale and silky, and her brown eyes sparkled in the light of the room.

  Her father was balding but still had thick, dark brown patches of hair above his ears. His eyes were brown but lighter than her mother's, and he had a short scar across his forehead. Kristin remembered when he got the scar working in their yard one day—she wondered now if that was the real story behind the scar. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

  "Hi," she said, her heart hammering. Her parents were never early. They stood up when she came in and took turns embracing her.

  "So where is the monster?" her mom asked.

  "You mean Derrick?"

  "Who else would I mean? Unless you've decided to bring some vampire friends and a banshee you've been hiding." She stopped and looked more closely at Kristin. "You haven't, have you?"

  "No!" Kristin shouted, then realized what her mom had just said. "Are banshees and vampires real?" she asked, looking around the crowded restaurant.

  Her mom and dad exchanged a look. "Here, we brought you this," her dad said, handing her a book. It wasn't wrapped, except for a plastic grocery bag. The title said, Were-Creatures: How to Protect Yourself. On the cover was a werewolf with giant fangs and red eyes.

  "Gee, thanks."

  Her mom leaned into her so no one else could hear. "Honey, you can't have this child. It's wrong. You must know that."

  "They're animals," her father said.

  It was at that moment that Derrick arrived with his parents. Derrick was the spitting image of them. He had his father's dark hair and his mother's blue eyes. Both his parents were tall and trim, and his father obviously still had muscles under his shirt, even at 60.

  They stood glaring at each other, each side ready to strike if attacked. Finally, Derrick went to Kristin, took her hand in plain sight of everyone, and pulled her to him. They kissed, and when their lips touched it was impossible not to see the passion behind it.

  Kristin heard her mother gasp. "Take your hands off my daughter."

  "Tell her get her hooks off my son," Derrick's mom spat right back.

  "See?" Derrick said, turning on them both. "We didn't burst into flames."

  Their parents grumbled and shuffled into seats opposite each other, where they sat glaring at one another and looking like they were stuck in a jail cell rather than a beautiful restaurant. The waiter came around and Kristin felt sorry for him. The mood was so foul at their table that it seemed to seep into the poor guy. When he finally got out of there he looked a bit de
pressed. At least food was on the way.

  "First, the good news," Derrick said, standing up and looking at Kristin. He mouthed the words Tell them.

  She stood up next to him. "I'm not pregnant," she said, relieved to finally be saying it. Their parents stared at them for a moment, then everyone started yelling at once.

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "What do you mean she's not—"

  "That's the best news I've heard all year!"

  "What the hell is the matter with you two?"

  Derrick and Kristin grabbed each other's hands and took a step back.

  Derrick tried to talk. "We didn't mean—"

  "Didn't mean to lie to your mother and me? Do you know how upset she's been?" He turned to Kristin's father. "My son, the liar."

  Kristin's mother yelled, "Was this your idea young lady? I should've kept you in the house till you were thirty!" She looked at Derrick's mom. "Have you ever heard of a daughter trying to kill her own mother with lies?"

  Derrick's mom shook her head before sinking back into her chair. "Thank God," she said.

  "Amen," Kristin's father muttered.

  "Guys, guys," Derrick shouted, sounding a bit like Coach. "LISTEN!" They finally stopped talking and four sets of eyes turned on them, waiting for an explanation. "We just wanted you to be friends again. We didn't know how else to bring you together."

  Kristin nodded frantically. "Yeah, you two are so stubborn sometimes," she said to her parents.

  Their food arrived just then and Kristin and Derrick were saved. Their parents glared a little less at each other, choosing instead to glare at the two of them. Their anger had been refocused, and seemed to be bring them closer together. Halfway through dinner Derrick whispered to Kristin, "I think it's going well."

  He was right, actually. The atmosphere in the room had lightened, and their parents were starting to laugh together, like old times. There were questions and compliments, stilted and awkward, but they were there, and Kristin was suddenly hopeful.

  "So, what do you do now Jerry?" Kristin's father asked.

  "That’s a lovely necklace, Carol," Derrick's mom said.

  When Derrick stood up and clinked his glass with a fork, everyone stopped talking. There were actually smiles at the table instead of frowns.

  "This wasn't exactly how I planned this," Derrick said. His cheeks were red and his eyes burned sky blue. "But I don't want to waste any more time. I hope you all can see that we're in love. We always have been, ever since we were kids. You can see that now, right?" Their parents reluctantly assented. "Well then..." Derrick dropped to his knee.

  Kristin's brain short circuited and her eyes bugged out of her head. She had no idea where it had come from, but a small, ruby box sat in Derrick's palm. He opened it to exposed a brilliant diamond that shined like sun on snow. It was so bright it almost hurt her eyes. The round stone sat in a perfect platinum setting that made her feel like a queen, and it wasn't even on her finger yet.

  "Kristin, I love you. No amount of time or distance will ever change that. Marry me."

  It was short and simple, but it was also exactly the right thing to say. Kristin reached for the box without a second's thought. She stared at it, transfixed. Her eyes were wet and she was shaking. Derrick didn't know whether he should apologize or kiss her?

  "Is that a yes?" he finally blurted.

  "Yes! Yes!" Kristin jumped into his arms, forgetting their parents for a moment. That's when all hell broke loose.

  Kristin's mom threw a dinner plate at Derrick's head. Derrick's father retaliated by trying to stab Kristin's father with a fork. Food flew through the air. Dishes and glasses shattered on the floor. Two waiters ran in only to be chased out again.

  "I told you we should've brought the stakes," Kristin's father shouted.

  Kristin grabbed her mother's arm to prevent her from breaking a bottle of wine over Derrick's mom's head, only to be brought down by a chair as Derrick's mom threw it across the room at them. Derrick tried to grab both his parents and hold them back, resulting in a strange blur of animal imagery as the three of them shifted in and out to various degrees.

  The restaurant called the police, and by the time the cops showed up all parties involved had fresh battle scars and a fair amount of blood loss.

  Chapter 10

  Randy Wolfe watched the news report with greater interest than usual. Derrick Wellborn had been arrested. His girlfriend too. In fact, the whole family was currently behind bars. Some sort of fight at a high end restaurant. He vaguely wondered what it was all about, but didn't think it was relevant to his plan at this time.

  Tom came into the room. Randy made him wait before acknowledging his presence. "What is it?" he finally asked.

  "Sir, there's a reporter on the phone."

  "I've already told you," Randy snarled, "no reporters. I'm sick of them."

  "Yes Sir, but this one's from Sports Illustrated." It was a dream of Randy's to be on the cover of the magazine he'd grown up reading, and he'd been ecstatic when the magazine contacted him a few weeks ago for an interview. Every idol he'd ever had had graced the cover at one time. Oh, he acted like it was no big thing, but the truth was it was almost as big a deal to him as when he'd beaten the old world's record for rushing yards.

  Randy jumped up from his chair. "Why didn't you say that to begin with?" he said through gritted teeth.

  "Well I tried to," Tome said. Randy snapped his foot out and hit Tom's head like he was kicking a football. He was a running back on the team, but he was a pretty good kicker too.

  "Hello, this is Randy Wolfe," he spoke into the receiver. His voice was soft and calm.

  "Hi Mr. Wolfe, this Brady Williams. I know we've got the interview lined up for next week, but we thought we'd do a sort of pre-cover first, with you and Mr. Wellborn. Then follow it up with an issue for each of you after he beats your record. I wondered if we could arrange a short phone interview for tomorrow. Shouldn't take more than 10 minutes."

  Randy listened to all this quietly... gracefully, and when Brady Williams had finished talking, Randy agreed to whatever interview they liked. Then he hung up and threw the phone across the room.

  "Tom!" he howled.

  Tom was there in a second. "Yes Sir?"

  "Things have gotten too far out of hand. We're moving on my plan sooner than expected." He looked at Kristin's picture on the internet. Derrick was too much in love for his own good. If he broke Randy's record, Randy would have no choice but to break something of his too.

  ***

  The sun was shining when Kristin Walker stepped out from Derrick Wellborn's penthouse apartment building and put on sunglasses she pulled from her pocket. She went to the corner newsstand, which was quickly becoming something of a novelty—most people these days got their news from the internet—and bought a paper. The front page showed a really bad picture of her in a really good dress, which had, unfortunately, been splattered with greasy brown meat juice when her mom threw a steak at her.

  The evening couldn't have gone more wrong. But, that wasn't the thing Kristin cared about right now. It was the caption under their picture.

  Derrick Wellborn and fiancée Kristin Walker...

  Her heart thrilled at the title. Fiancée. It was like an aphrodisiac to her. She felt the heat start in her feet and creep towards her chest. It was like she was glowing on the inside. She walked towards her own apartment, in dire need of a change of clothes. Derrick had given her a shirt of his to put on over her dress, and she was pleased to find that even with her full frame it was much too big for her. Her breasts were almost nonexistent in the soft cotton. But it also made her look like a pillowcase.

  She paused beside a coffee shop, thinking maybe she'd pick up a latte and croissant to take home with her. Derrick had offered to make her breakfast, but she'd still been too worked up over the brawl between their parents. Now, however, out in the sunlight, things felt better. She didn't care if her family hated his. They wouldn't
be the first married couple to have families who hated each other.

  She held her hand out to a ray of sun that streamed towards her. Her ring shined just as much now as it did when Derrick slipped it on her finger last night. She was glad. She'd been worried the ketchup bottle Derrick's father emptied on her might have tarnished it. To be fair, the ketchup had been meant for her father.

  "Look Mommy," a little boy said, pointing towards Kristin. For a moment, Kristin thought the kid had recognized her from the news, but then he said, "It's him!"

  Kristin turned to look where the kid was pointing and saw Randy Wolfe standing behind her. She was surprised to see him. He smiled at her, his teeth gleaming almost as much as her diamond ring. She smiled back, feeling suddenly uneasy. She watched the little boy run up to him, arms outstretched, holding a pen and paper. Randy smiled, but it seemed false. He signed the kid's paper, but his eyes never left her.

  Kristin started walking, wanting to get away from him. When she looked behind her, Randy was following.

  Don't be silly. He's in town for the game. It's in a few days. He just arrived a little early. He's taking a walk. It's nice outside.

  But something didn't feel right. She picked up her pace. Randy picked up his. Kristin started running. A crack in the sidewalk caught the heels she still wore from last night and she tripped and went sprawling.

  Heavy footsteps echoed behind her. Kristin's heard thudded against her chest. Randy Wolfe stood above her. The sun blinded her when she tried to look at him. All she could see was his hand, stretching towards her. He took hold of her and picked her up off the ground, then handed Kristin her purse.

  "Oh, thank you," she said.

  "No problem," said Randy, and kept walking.

  Chapter 11

  Kristin reread the letter her mother and father had both signed. Not an email, an actual letter. Express delivery. Kristin couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten an actual letter in the mail. And it was so formal, like it had been sent by a bank examiner rather than her parents.