The Girl I Didn't Marry
Page 7
“Oh,” I say.
“Never mind,” he says.
“The album or…?”
“No,” he says, “I mean, never mind in that… you clearly don’t know shit about Nirvana.”
I take another bite of my pizza. Well, he made my decision whether or not to go out on another date with him really easy. At least I got one movie and three free meals out of this brief relationship.
We get back into Evan’s dented Ford Pickup, and he gets on the road, driving faster than I feel comfortable with. I’ve started driving lessons, but I find it terrifying to get behind the wheel. Every time I get from Point A to Point B, I mostly think to myself, “I’m so glad I made it here without crashing.” I don’t revel in driving fast.
I notice Evan misses the turn that would take me back home. I’ve already had enough of this date, and I’m ready for it to be over. “Hey, you missed my turn.”
“I know,” Evan says. “Jim Caputo’s parents are out of town so he’s throwing a little party. And I’ve heard they’ve got some bedrooms upstairs that we can use.”
I cringe. On our last date, I did allow Evan to kiss me. It was an okay kiss in that I didn’t find it objectionable, but I didn’t love it either. It had none of the passion and heat that my few kisses with Nick had. Either way, I’m not sure how Evan made the jump from me agreeing to kiss him to us winding up alone in a bedroom together. No. Way.
“I’m pretty tired.” I yawn dramatically in what I hope is a convincing manner. “I think I’d rather just go home, if that’s okay.”
“Come on, Jessie,” Evan whines. “It’ll be so much fun. It’s still really early.”
“Maybe next time.”
It irritates me that even though I clearly said no, Evan is still driving in the opposite direction of my building.
“I really want to just go home,” I say.
“We’ll go real quick,” he says. “We’ll say hello to everyone and see if the party is any good. And if you don’t like it, you can leave.”
My hands ball into fists. “Just stop the car. I’ll walk home from here.”
“Don’t be dumb. It’s dark out—you won’t be safe.”
I grit my teeth. “Either let me out of the car or drive me home. I don’t want to go to that party.”
Finally, Evan pulls over on a deserted street. In all honesty, this doesn’t seem like the kind of place I want to get out of the car, but it’s better than being stranded at some stupid party. I turn to open the car door.
“Jess.” Evan’s hand grabs my wrist. “Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?”
Is he serious? He’s abandoning me in the middle of the ghetto and he wants a kiss? “Maybe next time,” I mutter.
“No,” he says. His grip on my wrist tightens. “I bought you dinner tonight and you’re not even going to fucking kiss me?”
I twist my wrist in his grip, but I can’t seem to break loose. “You bought me pizza.”
“You owe me.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “This is our third goddamn date, and you owe me. To be honest, you owe me a lot more than a kiss this time.”
I glare at him. “I do?”
Evan gives me a meaningful look. “Your friend Chrissy sucked my cock on our third date.”
Well, that’s great to know about Chrissy.
“Evan, let me go,” I say through my teeth. “Now.”
“Or else what?” he says. “Or you’ll sic Nick Moretti on me?”
Luckily for me, Evan is grabbing my left wrist, leaving my dominant hand free. Before I can overthink things, I take a swing at him. I probably should have gone for his groin or something along those lines, but somehow my fist connects with his throat. Although it actually really does the job—Evan starts coughing and choking and releases my arm immediately. Throat punch for the win!
Before he can recover, I jump out of the car and slam the door behind me. I start running, although I don’t know where I’m going. I duck into a 7-11 before Evan can track me down, since he’s obviously way faster than I am in his car.
I don’t know what to do when I’m in the 7-11. I’m scared to leave the store because even if Evan isn’t out there waiting for me, there are plenty of other unsavory characters out there. I end up getting one of those hot dogs on the roller, and I drink an entire Slurpee. None of that inspires me.
I notice that there’s a payphone right outside the 7-11. I dig out a quarter from my purse, and hesitate a minute before deciding who to call. But really, there’s no doubt. I mean, Chrissy can’t even drive. And she apparently sucked Evan’s dick, and I’m still not sure how to feel about that.
I nearly faint with relief when I hear Nick’s voice on the other line. My luck with payphones hasn’t been stellar.
“Jessie,” he says. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Can you come pick me up?” I squeeze the receiver in my hand. It feels ice cold.
“Yeah, where are you?”
I give him the address and I hear him suck in a breath.
“What the hell are you doing there?” he asks.
I bite my lip. “Can you pick me up or not?”
“I’ll borrow my dad’s car,” he says. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Mr. Moretti’s Acura is a far cry from Evan’s shitty car. When I see it pull up from the window of the 7-11, I race out of the store and jump inside. I’m only mildly embarrassed that I’m holding a half-empty bag of Cheetos. You can’t go into a 7-11 and not buy Cheetos.
The second I get in, I can’t help myself—I throw my arms around Nick’s shoulders. I’m just so relieved to see him. He holds me in his arms, his body warm from the heat blasting in the car. If he kissed me now, I’d be all his. He could ask for anything, and I’d say yes.
But he doesn’t ask for anything. He pulls away, his eyes even darker than usual.
“So tell me,” he says, “what are you doing here?”
I crack and tell him everything. About my awful date with Evan. About Jim Caputo’s party. About Evan grabbing my arm and not letting me out of the car. I even mention the thing about Chrissy, although in retrospect, it was probably an unnecessary detail.
When I finish the story, Nick is staring out the windshield, the fury plain on his face. “That son of a bitch. Who the hell does he think he is?”
“Look,” I say, “it’s… you know, it’s over. I’m okay.”
“That’s dumb luck.”
Well, dumb luck and me punching Evan in the throat.
“I just want to go home,” I say.
Nick nods and throws the car into drive. Unlike Evan, he doesn’t speed. He drives slow and steady with a determined look on his face. He doesn’t say one word the entire ride to my building.
“Nick,” I say quietly. “You’re… you’re not going to Jim’s party after this, are you?”
He doesn’t answer.
Oh God. This has the potential to be bad. “Nick, please don’t go to that party. Look, I’m okay. Just… let it go.”
He still doesn’t say anything.
“Nick!” I punch him in the arm, which finally gets him to turn and look at me. “Promise me you’re not going to go to that party.”
“Uh huh,” he says.
I squint at him. “That’s not a promise. That’s you grunting.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Nick!”
He frowns at me. “What’re you worried about? Don’t you want me to say something to that piece of shit?”
I consider his question. I don’t want Evan to feel like he could treat a girl the way he treated me tonight and get away with it. Yet…
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I say.
Nick laughs out loud. “Hurt? By Evan Thompson? Come on!”
“There are going to be a lot of kids at that party,” I point out. “What if they gang up against you?”
He snorts. “Jim Caputo’s better friends with me than he is with Evan. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry,” Nick says again.
I wrap my arms around him one last time. He holds me longer this time, but we both know it’s just a hug. It won’t lead to anything more. At least not while I’m living with my father.
“Be careful,” I whisper in his ear.
Chapter 15
Nick
I want to fucking kill Evan Thompson.
I want to string that asshole up by his earlobes or his balls or something else really painful. I want to smash his face in with my fist. I want to destroy him.
When Jessie told me the story of what he did, I was so angry, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. How could he do that to her? And you know the irony of it? I’m the one her dad doesn’t trust. I come to rescue her in the middle of the night so she doesn’t have to walk home through a shitty neighborhood after her date tried to rape her, and somehow I’m the dago hood.
And I’m the one who’s gotta push her away when all I want to do is kiss her.
Christ.
There’s no chance I’m not going to Jim’s party after she tells me what happened. Not that I’m going to hurt Evan. If I were my brother, I’d beat the shit out him and not think twice about it. But I’m not going to do that. I’m just going to tell him what I’m going to do to him if he ever so much as breathes on her again.
I can tell where the party is by the line of cars on the street. I park my dad’s Acura carefully, knowing he’ll murder me if he sees a scratch on it. I’m lucky he let me take it out at all tonight—he must still be feeling off from getting picked up by the cops.
A girl named Becky opens the door for me. Her face lights up when she sees me, which I suspect is partially thanks to whatever’s in the plastic cup she’s holding, but also, Becky flirts with me a lot at school. She doesn’t make it into a secret she wants me to ask her out, but I don’t feel much like dating lately.
“Nick!” She giggles when she sees me and drags me into the foyer. Shit, does this mean I’m going to have to navigate a whole house full of drunken kids to find Evan? “You’re here! That’s so… awesome!”
“Awesome,” I repeat flatly. “Hey, you seen Evan around here?”
Becky nods. “He’s out in the living room.” She lowers her voice a few notches. “He was telling us how he got Jess Schultz to go down on him.”
I stare at her. “He said what?”
“He said she went to town on him.” Becky giggles. “Doesn’t that figure? Jess always acts like such a priss, but it turns out she’s a total slut.”
No. Fuck no.
I’m going to murder him.
I push past Becky and make my way to the living room. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I don’t want to lose control of my temper. As much as I want to rip Evan’s skinny body limb from limb, I know I shouldn’t do it. It would be so easy though…
Evan is sitting in the living room with one of his buddies. He thinks he’s some kind of grunge musician with that shaggy hair, the sad attempt at a goatee, and all that fucking flannel. He looks like an idiot. No wonder Jessie didn’t want him. She’s actually got taste.
“Hey!” I say.
Evan doesn’t look up.
“Yo!” I snap at him. “Eddie Vedder. Look at me.”
Evan lifts his eyes from his beer. I was hoping he’d look scared shitless when he saw me, but he doesn’t. He just looks amused.
“Wow,” he says. “Jess got to you fast. I didn’t think she’d sic you on me till at least tomorrow morning.”
“You lying to people and saying she gave you head?” I say sharply.
“Lying?” He raises his eyebrows at me. “That’s not a lie, Moretti. She did it.”
“To hell she did,” I growl.
Evan shrugs. “She did. Maybe she just didn’t want to tell you about it because she thought you’d be jealous.”
“There’s no fucking way she did that,” I hiss at him.
It’s gotten quieter in the living room now. Ace of Base is booming from the speakers, but everyone has stopped talking. They’re all just listening to us, which is fine with me. I want them to hear this. I want them to hear Evan apologize and admit it was all a bunch of lies.
“I’m sorry she didn’t think you were good enough to fuck,” Evan says, a shit-eating grin on his face. “But that’s not my problem.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my whole goddamn life. I could kill Evan with my bare hands. But I won’t. Because unlike Tony, I know how to control my temper.
“Listen to me, you shithead,” I say quietly. “You’re going to take that back. And you’re going to take it back now.”
Evan raises his eyebrows. “Am I?”
“Yeah, you are,” I say. “You’re going to tell everyone in this room what a fucking liar you are. And on Monday, you’re going to beg Jessie for forgiveness.”
“No fucking way,” Evan snorts. “Why? Because you said so? Who the fuck are you? You’re all talk. What are you going to do—have me killed?”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Why don’t you fuck off, Nick?” Evan says. “Before I call the cops on you for threatening me. And then you can end up behind bars… just like your dad.”
Until that moment, I had been keeping myself in control. I was angry at Evan for what he did—more than angry—but I still had control over my actions. By a thread. But the second he brings up Pop, that thread snaps. All I can see is red.
I’m going to make Evan Thompson sorry he was born.
Chapter 16
Nick
I only vaguely remember the whole thing. I later heard it described to me enough times that I can figure out what happened:
I lifted Evan off the couch by the neck of his T-shirt and threw him on the floor.
I jumped on top of him and punched him in the face, breaking his nose.
I punched him a few more times, giving him a black eye and knocking out four of his teeth.
I got up off him and started kicking him in the side, breaking two ribs, before Jim and two other guys forcibly dragged me away from him. If they hadn’t, I really might have killed the guy. So in that sense, I’m grateful.
The next thing I remember clearly is Becky yelling out, “Oh shit, the cops are here!” And that was our cue to run for it. I’m just lucky they didn’t come a few minutes earlier. I’m sure they would have loved to catch the son of Angelo Moretti beating a kid half to death.
I make it out to my car without the cops catching me. I start the engine and speed off in the direction of my house, without looking back to see if anyone needs a ride. I feel like I can breathe again, but my heart is still slamming in my chest. My right hand hurts like a mother every time I grip the steering wheel—I think I might’ve broken it on that fuckhead Evan’s face. I also realize my right cheekbone is throbbing, and when I stop at a red light, I look at my face in the rearview mirror and see it turning red. Evan must have gotten a shot in. I didn’t even feel it.
Ten minutes later, I pull into our driveway, but I don’t get out of the car right away. I just sit there for a minute, trying to slow down my breathing. I don’t think the cops are going to come after me. Yeah, I beat the shit out of Evan—but I don’t think he wants to be known as a little whiny bitch who complained about getting a beating.
A noise catches my attention and I turn my head in time to see Tony crawling out my bedroom window, dropping down on the garage, then leaping to the ground. In another few months, he’ll be eighteen and he can do whatever the hell he wants. But now he’s stuck sneaking out the window.
Tony looks startled to see me sitting in the car. He squints at me and knocks on the window until I open the door and get out. His eyes widen when he gets a look at me, which makes me start t
o worry.
“What does the other guy look like?” Tony smirks at me.
“What other guy?” I mumble.
Tony laughs. “Hate to break it to you, Nico, but you’re covered in blood. Not yours, I’m thinking.”
I look down at my sweatshirt and realize he’s right. Evan’s blood is splattered all over me. Shit, I wonder if it’s on my face too.
“You can’t go in the house looking like that,” Tony says. “You’re the good kid. You trying to give Pop a heart attack?”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I say. “It’s not like I got any extra clothes out here.”
Tony looks thoughtful. Then he suddenly pulls his own sweatshirt off his head and holds it out to me. He’s only got on an undershirt underneath. “Take mine.”
I frown at him. “What are you going to wear?”
He shrugs. “I’ll take yours. Nobody gives a shit if I’m covered in blood.”
That’s probably true.
We trade sweatshirts, and I turn on the water hose to rinse the blood from my hands and face. The water is ice cold but it does the trick. Tony obviously has got somewhere to go, but he sticks around to watch me getting clean, leaning against the hood of his car. He’s got a piece of shit car, but nobody ever breaks into it. Instead of those signs people have been putting up saying “NO RADIO,” Tony’s got a sign on his car that says, “If you break into this car, I’ll cut your throat.” It’s worked well.
“So whose blood is this anyway?” he asks me. “If I’m gonna be wearing it, I’d at least like to know.”
“Evan Thompson.”
“That creep?” Tony snorts. He’s quiet another minute before he says, “This got something to do with that Schultz chick?”
I don’t answer that one.
“I gotta say, Nico, you’re a little obsessed with her,” he says. “I mean, she’s got great tits—I gotta give you that. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed or anything. But she’s just a girl. Not that special.”
I shoot him a look.
“Fine.” He waves his hand at me. “Go get yourself killed over this chick. Do what you want.”