Axle's Secret

by Nia Arthurs

  “I’m fine.”

  She gasps.

  “What?”

  “Em, don’t tell me… you’re pregnant?”

  I bark out a laugh, which turns into a pitiful moan when the pain hits me. “Don’t joke like that. It hurts.”

  “Do you have the stomach flu then?” She presses a hand to my forehead and looks into the distance. “You don’t have a temperature. Did you eat anything weird yesterday? Spoiled fish? Old chicken?”

  “No.”

  Aunt B tilts her head. The bathroom light glides over her brown skin exposed in a thin cotton dress. I study the outfit. “Did you get on the plane like that?”

  “No.” She chuckles, glancing at her dress. “I stopped by my mom and dad’s first.”

  “You should have come home.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you in case…” she wiggles her eyebrows, “you were otherwise occupied. When I called your cell this morning, you didn’t answer. I figured it would be safer to give you and Axle some more time rather than interrupt.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as a wave of embarrassing memories wash over me. “You didn’t have to worry. Nothing happened.”

  She slants me a knowing smile. “It’s okay. Your first time is always a little uncomfortable. I’m not going to ask for details. As long as you didn’t do it in my bed, I’m good.” She seems to rethink her statement and adds, “Or the couch. It’s really just a matter of respect—”

  “Aunt B!” I yell. “You’re not listening! Nothing happened.”

  She pulls her lips in. “Alright, you didn’t have to scream at me. Is that why you’re throwing up? You’re upset because you couldn’t go through with it?” She wraps her arms around me. “Ember, it’s fine. If Axle cares about you, he’ll respect your decision to wait. There’s no rush.”

  “Stop.” I shake her off. “It wasn’t me that couldn’t do it.”

  She grimaces. “Oy. Does Axle have—” she points to her lower region and whispers, “a problem?”

  I shrug.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know. We were kissing. Feeling each other. I…” The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. My heart is about to explode. All I want to do is crawl into a hole right now, but I force myself to say, “I asked him to do it. I begged him.”

  “And he said no?”

  I nod shamefully.

  “Wow.” Aunt B shakes her head. “Maybe he’s gay.”

  “He’s not gay.”

  “Then is he religious?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What could it be then?” Her brows slant together. “What were you doing before making out?”

  “We ate dinner then he suggested we watch a movie. Of course, we didn’t really watch the movie because… you know. When I thought he’d take things to the next level, Axle said he didn’t want me ‘like this’.”

  “What did he mean?”

  I flinch because just the mention of alcohol makes me want to throw up again. “I might have been a teeny bit intoxicated.”

  “You were drinking? You? Since when?”

  “I took out a bottle of wine for our dinner. Axle was running late so I opened the bottle early.”

  “Did you eat before you drank?”

  “No.”

  “How much did you have before Axle came?”

  I scratch my head, struggling to remember. “About half?”

  “A glass.”

  “A bottle.”

  “You’re insane, Ember. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to drink on an empty stomach? No wonder you’re puking now. You were probably acting funny yesterday too. Axle must have been so confused.”

  I cover my face with both hands. “I don’t remember saying anything embarrassing. I don’t remember saying much at all.”

  “So you jumped the poor guy while you were drunk and expected him to be down with that? Imagine things from Axle’s perspective. He was probably trying to be a gentleman when he rejected you. How many men would say no to an easy lay?”

  “Did you just call me easy?”

  “Well, what would you call your behavior last night?”

  I avoid her eyes.

  Aunt B sighs. “What happened afterwards? Did Axle go home?”

  “Yes. After I screamed at him to leave.”

  “Em, you didn’t.”

  “I thought he was playing with me. Then I thought maybe I wasn’t desirable enough for him. Then I heard Mom’s voice in my head, talking about how all men are horrible. As soon as Axle left, I started crying. I didn’t think he might have noticed that I was tipsy or that it would matter to him.”

  “You’re something else, you know that? A normal guy wouldn’t have been so considerate. Axle was trying to protect and respect you and you raked him through the coals for it.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I hiss. “I already feel bad enough.” I push myself to my feet and head into the bedroom across the hall.

  Aunt B follows me. “What are you doing?”

  I ignore her and grab my phone, gasping at the number of missed calls on my screen. “Axle was trying to get me this morning. I need to call him back.”

  My fingers tremble on the dial pad, but before I can finish dialing him, an unknown number calls.

  I answer impatiently. “Hello?”

  “Ember? This is Kolby.”

  I blink in surprise. “Kolby. Hey.”

  “Are you busy today? I was hoping we could meet up for a bit.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I just finished with football. Can you give me a few minutes to shower and change and then meet me here at the school? Axle took the car.”

  My heart jumps at Axle’s name. “Uh, is he out?”

  “Yeah. He got a call from one of his friends and left in a hurry.”

  I wonder what that’s about. “How long do you need to get ready, Kolby?”

  “Twenty minutes tops.”

  “Okay, see you then.” I hang up.

  Aunt B looms behind me, not even bothering to hide her curiosity. “Who’s Kolby? Suitor Number Two?”

  “He’s sixteen.”

  “Oh.” She casts a disappointed sigh. “Then who is he and why are you meeting him?”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “Sorry, I’m just being nosy.”

  “He’s Axle’s little brother.”

  Aunt B touches my shoulder. “Are you okay to leave? You still look a little sick.”

  “I’ll be fine. Can I borrow your car?”

  “Of course.”

  I rush out of the room to take a quick shower and change into a cool blouse and dark shorts. After pulling my hair into a low ponytail, I grab Aunt B’s keys and sail through the door.

  The high school is pretty easy for me to find because it’s the one that Diandre attended before he died. I park in the lot and climb out of the car. The wind buffets my shirt and chases autumn leaves around the lawn.

  As my eyes fall over the towering building, I imagine my older brother breezing through the halls, chatting with his friends, flirting with girls. He must have been the class clown. He was always cracking jokes in the most inopportune moments.

  I miss you, D.

  “Boo!”

  I scream and hop around, laughing when I notice Kolby creeping behind me.

  “Sorry,” he says with a sheepish grin, “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad.” He steps beside me and faces the school. “What do you find so fascinating about this place? Is it very different from the schools back in Belize?”

  I brush a curl away from my face. “No, that’s not it. My brother used to attend here.”

  “Your brother?” His eyebrows hike. “I didn’t know you had a brother. Did he live here?”

  “Yes. My parents were divorced so I lived with my dad in Belize, while my brother lived with our mom. That’s why we met at the park during the summer. I came every year to spend time with him.”

&n
bsp; “What happened to your brother?”

  “He died,” I say blankly.

  “Oh.”

  Although I appreciate Kolby’s sympathy, I don’t really want to talk about Diandre. I turn to the teenager and smile. “So, what did you want to see me for?”

  “Ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck in an adorable display of shyness. “I was wondering if you’d have ice cream with me.”

  I chuckle. “Sure, I’d love that.”

  “Great.”

  We drive to the same shop that Axle and I visited the night of the gallery. Was that only a week ago? It feels so much longer.

  This time, the place is mostly empty. I’m sure the heckler we met wouldn’t have bothered me today given I’m with ‘my own kind’.

  The thought makes me smile.

  “What?” Kolby asks after we settle down in one of the booths with our ice cream.

  “Nothing.” When he stares expectantly at me, I shrug. “The last time I was here, this guy made a fuss because I was with Axle.”

  “Oh.” Kolby laughs. “Ax must have been pissed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “As you can see I’m black.” He holds out a muscular arm. “And my family’s not. We get looks all the time. I’m used to it by now. So is Axle, if I’m honest. But when someone makes a comment or looks at us funny, his temper blows up.”

  “He’s very protective of you.”

  “He’s a great older brother. Even though he didn’t live in town, I always knew I could call on him. When I visited his place, he’d make time for me. You know? We’d play football. We’d go to the arcade and play air hockey. He’s awesome.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

  “It’s just…”

  “What?” I lick my cone.

  “Lately, he’s been acting weird. I think it has something to do with this guy.”

  “What guy?” I ask absently.

  “Diandre or something.”

  I whip my gaze up to Kolby’s dark eyes. “Diandre?”

  “Yeah. Axle said he knew him back in high school. When Seb dropped by earlier this week, I heard them arguing about him and some girl named Maribella.”

  “Maribella?”

  He nods. “Seb’s dating her even though Diandre liked her first. But it doesn’t make sense. Why would they be so concerned about a random guy from ten years ago?”

  “Yeah,” I say quietly, my mind churning. “I wonder why.”

  17

  Axle

  Country music blares from crappy speakers mounted all over the crappy bar. Smoke billows from the motorcycle gang huffing to my right. Neon lights dance over the smooth surface of the counter. Green lasers follow the crowd shuffling on the dance floor.

  A cheer rises from the dancers and the smokers lift their beers in a hearty cry of their own. The music swells, filling the air with an excitement that seems to infect everyone.

  Except me.

  I’m currently hunched over one of the bar stools, staring at my shot of whiskey and willing myself to drink it. In my hands? Diandre Johnson’s funeral program, a memento Seb dug up from who knows where.

  On the back of the program is a collage of Diandre—at church with his mother, at a party, beside a float for the town’s annual Christmas parade, at a pool in a pair of yellow swim trucks.

  One photo in particular makes my insides churn. Diandre has his arms thrown around a young Ember. She’s tanner. Her hair is shorter, a little above her shoulders. She looks shy, unsure of herself. Diandre’s stance is protective.

  I reach for the whiskey again. My hand trembles. I can’t seem to curve my fingers around the glass or bring it to my lips. The desire to hide from my problems behind a drunken stupor feels cowardly. Easy.

  So I stare at the liquor instead, imagining the taste on my tongue. Longing for the freedom it would bring. Even though it would be temporary.

  “Hello, handsome,” a voice says close to my ear.

  Leaving my chin ducked to my chest, I ignore the woman. She’s not the first to try and get my attention tonight. The moment I walked in here looking for relief from the chaos in my head, I was flocked.

  Maybe the smell of defeat and guilt is a turn-on for the women who frequent this bar. Or maybe I just look that pathetic. Whatever it is, I hope she’ll get the hint and move on like all the rest.

  “Hey.” She taps my shoulder.

  “I’m a little busy here,” I mumble, waving her away.

  “Really?” I hear the chair next to mine groan as she climbs into it. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  “Look, miss—” My words falter when I lift my head and recognize her. “Maribella?”

  “Hi, Axle.”

  She’s wearing a sparkling red dress and black heels. Her thick hair bounces to the small of her back. Diamond earrings and a diamond wristband glimmer in the darkness. Her outfit is more fitting to a fancy gala than a seedy bar.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  She throws her hair back, sighing at the ceiling. “I needed some air.”

  “Air?” I cough and blow away a puff of smoke that wants to envelop my head. “And you decided to come here?”

  She laughs. “Yes, this place is like home. I used to work on the other side of this counter while I went to school.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s not glamorous, but the tips were great and I made some friends.” At that moment, the bartender trots over and slides a beer in front of her. Maribella smiles sweetly. “Thanks Hill.”

  “Anytime,” the man grumbles, shooting me a dark glare.

  I clear my throat. “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah. This is me.”

  “It’s… cozy.”

  She laughs. “I’m a lot more comfortable in places like this than in stuffy banquet halls with a bunch of rich people who are all looking for a way to stab each other in the back.”

  “Ouch. It’s that bad?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I always thought money was the answer to everything. As a kid, I figured if a million dollars dropped into my lap, I’d be happy. But being with Seb, I realize that wealthy people are the most miserable. At least some of them are. There are exceptions.”

  “Exceptions?”

  She eyes me. “Rich boys who are handsome, kind. Good. They make a woman reconsider.”

  I’m not going to assume she’s speaking about me although from her intent gaze, it would be safe to. Either way, I’m happy to have a familiar face beside me while my world unravels. Maribella is a suitable distraction.

  She nods to the program rolled in my grasp. “What’s that? You coming from a funeral?”

  “No, I—” My fingers nervously slide the paper into my pocket. “It’s nothing.”

  She leans closer, her scent sweetening the air that is tainted with old peanuts and cigarettes. “You know, when I was a bartender, I learned to read my customers. There are only a few reasons someone wanders into a bar to drink alone.”

  “I’m just here to think.”

  “I’ll pretend I believe you.” She folds her legs over the other. The hem of her skirt rides up to her thighs and she makes no moves to rearrange it. I focus on her face, but when Maribella rubs her foot against mine I have no choice but to look down.

  “So,” I scoot my chair back to get away from her—what I’m hoping is—accidental touch, “You and Seb. How long have you been together?”

  “Ah, about five years.”

  “I thought it’d be more. Seb’s liked you for a long time.”

  “I put him off as much as I could. Seb thinks he ‘rescued me’, but I’m just a toy he brushes off and dresses up. He doesn’t really know me.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

  “There was a reason I never gave him the time of day back then. He didn’t appeal to me. I like,” she runs her fingers over the counter, �
��nice guys. They have a habit of treating you like a person rather than a piece of meat.”

  “I see.” Maribella is definitely flirting with me. Should I try and help her to understand Seb or just leave them to their problems and bounce?

  “Hey,” Maribella grins as the music changes to a shrieking EDM number, “I love this song. Wanna dance?” She has to lean over to shout in my ear and instead of setting her hand on the counter, she uses my leg to keep her balance. “I can tell you’re a great dancer.”

  I smoothly shift my leg so her hand drops. “No thanks.”

  “Come on.” She pouts and the neon lights glisten against her glossy red lips.

  “I’m fine. I was just leaving anyway.”

  “Is it because of Ember?” Her dark eyes narrow and she glares at her beer. “Are you two serious?”

  I slip money out of my wallet and set it on the counter. “It was great catching up with you, Maribella.”

  “Wait!” She scrambles out of her seat and almost topples over thanks to her high heels. I reach out instinctively, gripping her arm to help her regain her balance.

  “You okay?”

  “Thanks.” She laughs sheepishly and tosses her head so her hair falls behind her ear. “I’m not drunk. I swear. That was an accident.”

  I pull my hands back and nod. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Can I get a ride?”

  I stop short, studying her for any sign of duplicity. I’m not a fan of being manipulated.

  She ducks her head. “My apartment’s not far from here.”

  “Then you can walk.”

  When I turn to leave, she touches my hand. “But it’s dark out and I’m wearing all this jewelry…” Her hand brushes an earring. It dances, sparkling even more as if it wants to show off.

  She could take a cab. You don’t have to… “Okay. I’m this way.”

  “Great.” Her eyes glitter and she does a little hop. I smile because the movement reminds me of Ember. But thinking of Ember reminds me of the secret that Seb unveiled and that grin dissolves into a worried frown.

  Maribella picks up on my stormy mood and remains quiet until we get into the car. After we’ve both clicked our seatbelts in, she turns to me. “I’m curious.”

  “About?”

  “At the gallery, Sebastian said you fell in love with Ember the day you met her. Is that true?”