“Whatever, go take your shower. You stink.”
After my shower, I found Gianna sitting on the couch with an amused, self-satisfied look on her face. I sauntered over to the dining room table to read her list.
1. Punch Caleb in the face.
2. Steal Caleb’s car and go for a joy ride, which may involve crashing into a brick wall.
3. Find a way to get Caleb expelled from my school, so he’ll have to live somewhere else.
I glanced up at Gianna to take in the smug grin on her face. “What?” she asked innocently. I rolled my eyes at her and kept reading.
4. Go tagging (that means spray painting your name in public places, white boy!)
5. Get a tattoo
6. Street dance downtown at the 16th Street Mall
7. Quit cheerleading
8. Go on a road trip to Vegas
9. Punch Caleb again
10. Ditch school
11. Make new (real) friends at school
12. Go out clubbing and get drunk off my ass
13. And other things that are none of your god damn business!
My eyes moved to Gianna again but she didn’t meet my eyes. “You better not make fun of me. You wanted the list, so there it is.” The list wasn’t particularly creative or adventurous in my book, but it was a start.
“I wasn’t going to make fun of you. But before we’re done, I’ll find out what number thirteen means. I think I should be able to help you out with most of that. Of course, we won’t be doing anything to harm me or my car.” That was for sure.
“What do you mean that you’ll be able to help me out? I can’t do those things. My mom would kill me, especially if I quit cheerleading. I think she’d rather me get a tattoo than quit cheerleading.” Her sour expression reminded me of Chance when my dad told him to do his homework the other day. Watching my dad parent another boy was odd for me. But I had to say, at that age I’d put up a much better fight than Chance.
“Well, you don’t have a choice, remember? You do what I say, or I tell your mom your secrets.”
“You have to be the most horrible stepbrother ever,” she said, as if it would hurt my feelings. I took that as a compliment. Not being devious would be boring.
“Yep, time to go. I called your mom and already let her know you’ll be helping me at the downtown library with a school report. I told her we want me to get a good grade, so we’d be home late. We’ll take my car, because it’s cooler than yours.” With that, a reluctant Gianna and I left the apartment and trekked to where my car was parked.
“Your car is not cooler than mine,” she commented while I backed out of my spot. “By the way, where are we going?”
“We’re going to buy some spray paint.” Traffic was light late Sunday morning, so I maneuvered through the streets with ease.
She gaped at me. “We can’t really go tagging! It’s the middle of the day! Do you want to get arrested?”
“No, I definitely don’t want to get arrested again, so we’ll just have to be very careful.”
“Again? Oh my god! You’ve actually been arrested? What the heck for?” I could tell she was both shocked and dying of curiosity. Hello? Juvenile delinquent here. Getting arrested was like a rite of passage. It was the second and third time around that wasn’t fun anymore.
I smiled mysteriously at her just to rile her up. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The nearest hardware store wasn’t really near at all, so it took some time to get there. When we found the spray paints, she picked out hot pink and aqua blue. I grabbed your basic black and white. There was beauty in simplicity, as my mom always said. Dante and I used to do this in middle school. Even though this was baby stuff, it brought back good memories.
I hadn’t been to our favorite tagging spot for years. It was an industrial area full of warehouses and big ugly brick buildings. Since it was Sunday, there wouldn’t be many people around. We parked in a mostly empty lot and got out of the car to search for the right spot.
Gianna was as nervous as a guy getting laid for the first time. I shook my head at her and grasped her from behind to whisper in her ear, “The police are after you, Gianna. They have a stakeout going on, just waiting for you to show up here with a can of spray paint.”
She squirmed out of my arms. “Shut up, Caleb! Not all of us are okay with having a rap sheet. So, where are we doing this?” Along with her nervousness, I could also sense her excitement, like a guy having his first threesome.
“How about around the back of that building?” I motioned to a warehouse which didn’t have any cars parked out front.
We made our way around back and I shook her cans of paint, then mine. She had a look of concentration on her face while just staring at the wall. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I asked her.
“I can’t decide what to write.”
“If you want, I’ll pose nude for you and you can paint me,” I teased her.
“And what if some poor old lady or little kid sees it? I think I’ll just write my name.” She began painting so I did too. Twenty minutes later, I heard her announce, “Done.”
Backing up, I examined her work. She’d written Gigi in aqua blue with hot pink around it and underneath she’d wrote, DCK Breakin’ Crew. It was dripping in spots, but not bad.
“What does DCK stand for?”
“That’s the name of our crew, Denver Cool Kids Breakin’ Crew. Jared came up with it.” Her cheeks were pink and it was obvious she had some idea of what would come out of my mouth next.
“Figures that douche would come up with something so lame. Sounds like something that’d be on a Disney show.”
“Well, we could change it, but we’ve had it since middle school. It’s what we’re already known as,” she said defensively. Jared was still a douche, even if he came up with the name when they were little kids.
She stood back to look at what I’d painted to the right of her artwork. “You are such a pervert.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true, princess,” I studied my handiwork. I liked it. I’d drawn an arrow pointing towards her name and words saying, She’s Hot For Me. I’d also signed my name in cursive at the bottom.
Gianna tried to kick me in the shins, but I dodged her puny efforts. She was about to try again when a back door of the warehouse opened, about thirty feet from where we stood, and a middle-aged guy came out with a trash bag in each hand.
He took one look at us then at the spray cans in our hands and yelled, “I’m calling the cops, you punks!” He dropped the trash and hurried in our direction, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket.
“Run!” I told Gianna, already planning to come back later and snap a picture of our artwork. Poor girl was frozen in shock, so I yanked her by the arm to get her moving. I had to take the time to grab all of the cans of paint because the police did have my fingerprints on file. Of course, they’d have to go to the trouble of dusting for prints on paint cans. You’d think they’d have more important things to, like solve felonies.
We ran all the way to my car and scrambled inside. Cautiously, I turned to Gianna, expecting to see her scared and in tears. Instead, a big grin stretched across her face and she appeared exhilarated.
“Did you have fun?”
Still wearing the grin, the words burst out, “Yes, I think almost getting caught made it more exciting! What are we going to do next?”
I couldn’t help myself. She was so cute in all of her juvenile delinquent joy. I carefully captured her face and then her lips with my own. She was momentarily stunned, but kissed me back. A new warmth inside of me expanded. I drew back, relishing the sudden shyness in her eyes.
“Now we go eat lunch then visit a friend of mine.”
CHAPTER NINE
“A bachelor never quite gets over the idea that
he is a thing of beauty and a boy forever.”
-Helen Rowland
GIANNA
Caleb parked in another parking garage downtown and we w
alked several blocks to the Rocky Mountain Diner. “You know, I’ve never been here.”
“They have the best food here. I’ll order for you,” he offered, guiding me to a booth with his hand on my lower back.
We sat down and a forty-something waitress approached with menus. “Where’ve you been, honey?”
“Jean, I have bad news, devastating really, I had to move up north to Broomfield with my dad. I’ll probably only be able to make it in here once a week.” He looked so pathetic and sad that the waitress ate it up.
She patted his cheek soothingly. “Poor baby, who’s going to feed you?”
“Don’t worry, Jean, I have a new stepmom and she’s got mad Betty Crocker skills. Actually, this is my stepsister, Gianna.” He motioned towards me, bringing Jean’s attention to me.
“Oh, what a pretty girl. You’ll have to watch out for her, Caleb.”
“I’m trying my best, Jean, but she’s kind of wild.” Smartass.
“You’re such a good boy, Caleb. What will you have today, the usual?” Jean had a pen and notepad ready to take our order.
“Yes, we’ll both have that. Thank you, Jean.”
Jean left to give the kitchen our order and I hissed at Caleb, “You are so full of it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Caleb said proudly, leaning back in his seat. He pulled the list out of his pocket and I saw him cross off numbers one through four and number nine. “So, princess, what does number thirteen entail?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I imitated what he’d told me this morning.
He was unconcerned. “I’ll get it out of you eventually. So, how much fun are you having under my guidance?”
We were sitting there laughing about almost getting caught earlier when some random girl plopped herself sideways onto Caleb’s lap. Her arms snaked around his neck at the same time. “Caleb, where’ve you been? I’ve missed you.” She was doing that annoying baby-talk thing girls did when trying to sound cute.
Her nasty-ass lips were on his before he could respond. I felt like yanking her off of him by her cheap extensions. Caleb pushed her off him, saying, “I moved, Cathy.”
“It’s Casey,” she corrected heatedly.
“Yeah, whatever, anyways I’ll call you,” he said in that tone that meant I won’t really call you, I just want to get rid of you.
His meaning was obvious to me and probably anyone within earshot, but Casey must’ve been delusional. “You will?” she practically squealed. “You promise?” It was the disgusting baby-talk voice again.
Caleb was clearly annoyed, wanting her to be gone. “Promise.”
Casey went back to her table, but not before throwing me a venomous glare. I restrained myself from tripping her, just barely. It wouldn’t do to have Caleb think I was jealous. Which would be totally untrue and ridiculous. Getting jealous over a guy like Caleb would be like getting jealous over a swing at a public park. It was free for anyone to have a ride.
He must’ve sensed my inner turmoil from the look on my face, because he drawled, “Jealous?”
“How’d you know?” I asked in fake astonishment. “I so wanted her to sit on my lap and put her STD mouth on me!”
“I thought I was getting a lesbian vibe from you!” he joked, still seeming annoyed underneath the levity.
“So, are you going to call her?” If he said yes, my respect for him would suffer even more. Besides, I stupidly wanted him to say no. I was pretty positive he’d slept with that girl at some point and it bothered me despite my not wanting it to.
“I don’t even have her number.”
Good boy, I respected him more for his decision.
“Plus, I don’t usually offer seconds.”
And the dial on the respect meter just went back down.
I could hear that Casey bitch talking shit about me with some other girls in a booth somewhere behind me.
She looks like she got plastic surgery on her face, said one voice.
I bet she used to be a dog, said another.
He’ll totally dump her and call you, Casey, ‘cause you’re way hotter, said a third.
Fed up, I scratched the back of my head with my middle finger and heard a round of gasps. I smile serenely at Caleb, who was clueless to the verbal and nonverbal catfight he’d instigated.
Our food came a little later and he’d ordered us both huge hamburgers with steak fries. “I can’t eat all of this,” I told him. “I’d need two stomachs.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll eat whatever you don’t finish,” he assured then bit into his burger.
“That’s probably why you ordered us the same thing, huh?” His smile was answer enough.
I ate as much as I could and let him finish my food as promised. “Whenever we go out to eat, my mom makes me order a salad or chicken and rice. I haven’t had a good fattening restaurant burger in forever.” At home she made tasty food to make Scott happy, so I got to eat that, but she sometimes gave me a disapproving look if she thought I was eating too much.
“That is just wrong. You’re far from fat,” he remarked, eyeing my stomach area. I had the sudden urge to cover it with my hands.
Fighting a blush, I told him, “Yeah, but she’s paranoid that I’ll gain weight. Sometimes I wonder what’d happen if I did. She’d probably have a nervous breakdown or something.”
“Please don’t get fat. I like looking at your hot body too much,” he teased.
“Pig.” He had nothing to say to that, since it was true.
Caleb paid for our meal and we left the restaurant, walking in the opposite direction from where his car was parked. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see, princess,” he replied with a wink.
We crossed quite a few blocks before stopping in front of a tattoo shop called Donna’s Designs. “Are you serious? I can’t get a tattoo. My mom would drag my ass to the nearest place to get it removed.”
“Then you just have to get it somewhere she won’t see it. I think I know the perfect place.” He smacked me on the butt to make his meaning clear.
“Like I said, you’re a pervert.” I slapped him on the arm in retaliation.
“Anyways, you don’t have to get it today. You can just look at some designs.”
This made me feel better and I followed him inside. There were a couple artists working on tattoos and one of them glanced up at our entrance. “Hey, Caleb, are you here for that tongue piercing?”
“Nope, Donna. This is Gianna. She’s here to get my name tattooed on her ass.” He said it with a straight face and I pushed him. Donna laughed and went back to the guy she was working on. She was a few years older than us, pretty with black hair to her shoulders and colorful tattoos going up one arm.
“You’re a pervert, Caleb,” she said. See, I was right!
“She’s still thinking about what to get, Donna,” he informed her.
“Okay, just let me know if you have any questions.”
I thanked her and we looked through books. Too curious to resist, I asked Caleb, “Do you have any tattoos?” I’d avoided looking at his body when I’d seen him in a towel and I was regretting it now.
“Yes, and if you’re lucky, you might just get to see them someday.”
I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. “I think I want to design my own and I already have something in mind.”
“And what’s that?”
“Maybe if you get lucky, you might just get to see it,” I mimicked him. “How do you get tattoos without a parent’s consent?”
“Oh, Donna used to live in the same apartment building as me, so she doesn’t care,” he explained. “Are you ready to get one today?”
“No way, I want to work on the design a little first and mentally prepare myself.” I wasn’t looking forward to it hurting either.
“Let’s go then.” Caleb called out a goodbye to Donna and told her that we’d be back.
We were heading to his car and I wondered if we were finished for the day. Surprisingly, hanging out wi
th Caleb hadn’t been as bad as I’d thought. “What now, boss?”
“You got that right. Actually, I was wondering about number six. Why haven’t you done that before?”
“Well, sometimes there are b-boys dancing on the street at the 16th Street Mall. I’m sure you’ve seen them, having lived down here. Even my crew does it every once in awhile, but I’m too afraid someone my mom knows will be there shopping or eating at a restaurant. If they see me and tell her, she’d freak.”
“I think it’s more important that you’re happy. Sometimes you have to take risks. If she finds out, we’ll deal with it then. You should ask about the next time the crew is planning on going and we’ll meet them there.” A group of guys our age were about to pass us on the sidewalk and I was surprised when Caleb steered me to the right of him so they’d pass near him.
“Okay, I’ll talk to Jared,” I told him, still thinking of what just happened.
“How about you talk to Cece?” he suggested, looking irritated.
“Jealous?” I teased him.
“I don’t get jealous,” he said smoothly. “Other guys have never been much competition for me.”
“Your ego is ridiculous!” True, he looked good, especially in the striped t-shirt and jeans he wore, but an ego like that couldn’t be healthy.
“Nope, just honest.”
When we got back to his car, he drove to the parking garage near his mom’s apartment. We had to go back to the apartment for my bag. I followed him to his room where it sat on his bed. He had a lot of band posters and drawings on his walls.
Remembering what I’d forgotten to ask him this morning, I said, “Are these yours?”
“Yes, I guess I got the gene from my mom.”
Turning away from the drawings, I smiled at him. “They’re really good. I should have you draw the design I want for my tattoo.”
“Sure, no problem.” His expression changed to something indecipherable. “You know, I don’t usually let girls come to my place. It usually results in stalkers. You should feel lucky.”
“Jeez, that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” I replied sarcastically. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”
Beware of Bad Boy Page 6
