Henry took him? Huh. Maybe coming here was the right move.
I walk over to the table and grab my purse and keys. As I’m slinging the tattered brown messenger bag over my shoulder, I notice the paperwork with Henry’s signature that Jess was supposed to take back to school.
“Dammit, Jess,” I mutter under my breath before swiping it off the table. I tuck it inside my bag and add it to my list of shit to do today. I’m starving, but I don’t have time to eat, so I take a bite of a piece of toast that was left out from someone’s breakfast, stuff my feet into my boots, and then I’m gone.
“You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me,” Dare jokes as he takes in my wild hair, baggy sweater, and face free of makeup. He’s amused with my ragamuffin state, but then his eyes land on my bare thighs, and I swear his nostrils flare at the sight. I’m tempted to spread my legs a little farther just to push him. To gauge his reaction. But I don’t do that.
“Only the best for random strangers who force me to be their chauffeur,” I say snidely instead as I pull out of his driveway and head toward Henry’s shop. Dare’s eyes, still locked on my thighs, snap up to meet mine. They’re filled with something I can’t put into words so much as feel. It’s not transparent, overt lust like most men. But something…more. Something intense. And I want to know what it means. But before I can decipher it, he schools his expression and looks away.
“How did you get my number?”
“Your dad gave it to me.”
“How nice of Henry to give my number out to strangers.”
“Stop calling me a stranger. I’ve known Henry longer than you have,” he points out.
“Touché,” I say, nodding, because what else can I say? Other than ouch. He’s not wrong. He may have known him longer, but he does know him better than I do.
“That was a dick move,” he says after a minute. “Sorry.”
He chokes out the word sorry like he’s swallowing a handful of nails. As if the word is foreign to him, and he’s never had to apologize for anything in his whole life. It almost makes me laugh.
“Nah,” I shake my head, aiming for nonchalance, “it’s true. So, why am I picking you up so early?”
“Need to eat. There’s a restaurant next to your dad’s shop.”
Ignoring the weird feeling that comes from someone referring to Henry as my dad again, I ask, “Are you asking me out for breakfast?”
“No, I’m telling you to drop me off next door, so I can get a bite to eat. My fridge is empty.”
Oh.
“But if you need to eat, too,” he continues, scratching at the back of his neck in an uncomfortable gesture, “I won’t stop you.”
“I’ll pass.” I laugh. I might be hungry, but I don’t have the time or the money to waste. Not that my pride would ever let me accept that non-invitation anyway.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs.
I drive in silence, my freezing legs bouncing, trying to get warm. Dare is quiet, too. His legs are spread wide, sitting like a fucking king in this piece of shit car, one arm propped on the door as he gazes out the window. I like that he doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless words.
“Pull in here,” he says when we’re close to the shop. I do as he says, swinging into the narrow parking lot of a place called Sissy’s that sits next to another one named Belle’s. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t ask me to join him.
Dare reaches toward me, and my breath catches as his cold fingers slip between my thighs. Goosebumps prick my skin, and my nipples tighten almost painfully. Dare’s bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he tosses me a cocky look.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says in a low voice, and then he’s gone.
I look down at my lap to find what he left tucked between my legs. A fifty-dollar bill. Jesus. I didn’t think he’d actually pay me.
After dropping the forms off at Jesse’s school, I went home to change and found the washer and dryer in the garage, so I tossed a load in. Then, I drove around aimlessly, applying for any place I may have missed, before I got a call from Sutton—the girl from the bar. She told me I got the job, and to come in next Thursday. When I asked if I needed to fill out an application or come in for an interview, she laughed like that was the craziest thing she’d ever heard. I’m just glad she called.
Feeling optimistic for the first time since we got here, I decided to use some of Dare’s money—which I plan to pay back as soon as possible, which will be easy since I’ll be working next door—to pick up some pizza and beer for dinner tonight after grabbing Jess from school.
Henry stuck around after he got off work, and for the first time in over a decade, we had dinner with our dad. It was…weird. But a nice weird. He wasn’t like Mom who’d ramble on about being watched through cameras in the buttons of people’s jeans, how everyone was out to get her, and she couldn’t trust anyone. Paranoia at its finest. Dinner with Henry was almost normal. I’ve never had normal, but I’ve seen it on TV.
We’re still sitting at the table, drinking our beer. The pizza has been demolished, and the grease-stained box is full of crust, crumpled-up napkins, and bottle caps.
“So, you guys going to tell me why you’re here yet?” Henry asks after taking a swig of his Budweiser. I gave him the bare minimum when I called him. I told him we needed to get out of town, but I never mentioned Mom or Jess or Eric or any of that. He doesn’t need to know about Eric, and the look that Jess sends me tells me that he doesn’t want him knowing about his trouble, either, but I have to give him something. I decide that telling him about Crystal would be safe, and the most relevant to him.
“Mom was getting really bad,” I start. Henry’s eyebrows pull together in concern as he puts his elbows on the table, listening intently. I don’t know why, but it bothers me. How can he act concerned when he threw us away like yesterday’s trash? “She hadn’t paid the bills in years,” I continue, pushing my irritation aside. “She was almost never there. She disappeared for months, and Jess and I always scrounged together whatever we could from our jobs. But that was fine. We managed. We preferred when she wasn’t home. It was easier that way. Calmer,” I clarify, nodding to myself. “But then she got another shitty junkie boyfriend. This one didn’t have his own place to stay, so Mom suddenly remembered she had a home.”
“He was nasty as fuck, too,” Jess chimes in, absently spinning a quarter on the kitchen table. “That fool never showered. Stole my shit. Ate all of our food—well, whenever they were too broke to get high and actually had appetites.”
“They wouldn’t leave. Brought their lowlife friends around. Then it all came to a head when Mom’s boyfriend beat the shit out of Jess because he wouldn’t give them our last twenty bucks. She sat there and watched him hurt her son, and then me, and didn’t do a single fucking thing about it.”
Jess’ fists clench, and I know he’s thinking about what happened that day. He was half-asleep when our mom’s boyfriend, Darrell, attacked him. He’s lucky, too, or Jess would’ve killed him. He told him to fuck off when he asked for money, and then bam. Darrell went off. And once I tried to pull him off, he turned on me. Jess was swinging blind, blood in his eyes, while Mom screamed. For Darrell. Not her children. She let him beat on her, but I thought, maybe, some sliver of mother’s instinct or love was still inside her. You hear about panicked mothers lifting cars off their trapped children. I’d have settled for one word. Just one word. Stop, is all it would have taken for me to know she was in there, somewhere. That was the day I knew my mother was gone completely, not that she’d ever been the best parent. But she was ours, and she was all we knew.
“Christ,” Henry says, rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t blame you guys for getting the hell out of there.”
“There’s more,” Jess says, and the crease between Henry’s eyebrows deepens.
“I called the cops. When they showed up, asking about a disturbance, Mom stood out of sight, shaking her head, silently begging me to turn them awa
y. I didn’t. They had warrants. Lots of them, for things we didn’t even know about. Long story short, they’re both in jail.” If she gets lucky, she’ll do court-ordered rehab instead of doing time, and then probation. Whether it’s jail or rehab, I know she’ll be fed, sheltered, and sober. I don’t care how it happens.
I still remember the way she looked at me. How I held her stare, resigned, as I slowly swung the door open wide, and did what you never, under any circumstances, do in a neighborhood like mine. You don’t rat out anyone, ever. Especially not your blood.
But as I looked at Jess, swollen, bloody, and humiliated, I knew he needed me to show him that someone would love him like he deserved. Stand up for him. Protect him. That I loved him like a mother and a sister and a best friend, and I would always do what’s best for him, even when she wouldn’t. And I did it for Crystal, too. If she has any chance of living a normal life, or even a sober life, then maybe jail was the best and safest place for her.
So, I’ll be the rat. The snitch. I’ll be whatever the fuck you want to call me, and I won’t regret it. Not even for a second. That doesn’t mean we wanted to stick around to see what happens on the off chance they get off easy, though. Plus, with Jess getting caught hacking into the school’s system, changing grades, his beef with the piece of shit dealers he was stupid enough to get involved in, and me finding out Eric lied about everything, it was the perfect storm. We needed to get out before it swept us away. There was no other choice.
Henry sits there quietly, his features twisted into something I can’t decipher. Guilt? Anger? Or maybe it’s discomfort, because he can’t really defend her, knowing he failed us, too.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “You kids are welcome to stay here until they kick me out.” Henry mentioned on the phone that his lease was up soon. The owner is selling the place, but I was too desperate to care. “I’m not here a whole lot, though. I’ll keep the lights on. You two will be responsible for your food. All that I ask is you respect my house, and maybe leave me a plate of dinner every now and then.”
“And the 4Runner?” I ask, hoping I’m not pushing my luck. Henry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Why not. Bring it by the shop. I’ll give it an oil change and make sure it’s in decent condition.”
That was easy. Too easy. Experience tells me I should be wary, but my gut tells me he’s being genuine.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
He stands and gives me a nod before he walks away. He pauses after a few steps and hesitates before speaking.
“I, uh, know I left you kids…” He trails off, seemingly uncomfortable. “Truth is, I was as bad as your mother back then. I won’t pretend to be a saint. Not now and sure as hell not then. But I’m sober. Have been for years, save for the occasional beer,” he says, jerking his chin to the empty on the table. “I know the chaos that surrounds your mother better than anyone, and you won’t find that here. That’s one thing you can count on.”
He forgets that I was old enough to know what was going on. Even in my ten-year-old mind, I could see that my mother was poisoning everyone around us, including him. His intentions were good, but the execution was bad. And then he left. He’d left before, but that time, he never came back. Our mom spiraled. The little care we did have was gone. No one made sure we had food to eat or clothes to wear. No one made sure the light bill was paid or that we got to school. So, I did what I could to raise us both while harboring bitterness and resentment toward Henry for leaving.
Jess is quicker to forgive. He puts on a front of holding out, either because he doesn’t want to admit it or maybe he just doesn’t want to disappoint me, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s ready to have a dad, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. He was too little to understand when Henry lived with us. Maybe he wasn’t a doting father, but he was there when our mom wasn’t. He never hit us. Never yelled. And I felt like he liked us well enough. Then, he left. I don’t know what’s worse—remembering that you once had a parent who cared, at least a little, and then losing them, or not having much memory of it at all.
I don’t feel sorry for myself. It’s just the way things are. I’d venture to say a good eighty percent of kids in our hood live the way we did. It wasn’t anything out of the norm, but it doesn’t mean I don’t resent my parents for their choices. For the life Jess and I could’ve had if they had their shit together.
Jess looks to me as if to say can we trust this? And I give him a slight nod of encouragement.
“Thanks,” Jess mutters to Henry, and then he pulls a tattered book out of his backpack, walks to the couch, and plops down, where he will most likely stay all night. Henry walks upstairs, where he will most likely stay for the rest of the night. I sit down next to Jess. Wordlessly throwing an arm over his neck, I lay my head on the side of his shoulder before lifting the cover of his book to see what he’s reading, even though I already know what I’ll find. The Outsiders. I’ve never read it, but he once joked about being a modern-day Ponyboy.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good,” he replies easily.
“Have you heard from anyone back home?” Jess still keeps in touch with some of his friends and one of our neighbors, who is supposed to let us know if Mom shows up again.
“Nope. You?”
“No. I didn’t even tell anyone I was leaving.”
“Savage,” he says, his eyes still on the pages of his book.
“I’m not taking any chances.” I don’t elaborate, but he knows what I mean. I’m not risking Eric finding me and trying to drag me back into his fucked-up world. “And you shouldn’t, either,” I add, jabbing a finger into his cheek. He jerks his face away.
“I’m not an idiot. I only told Mel and Danny.” Danny and Melanie are his two best friends, the latter being his sometimes girlfriend. Danny is trustworthy. The jury is still out on Mel.
“I know you aren’t. I just want you to be careful.”
I want a good life for him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in mine. This is his shot—our shot, and I can’t help but feel like it’s going to be ripped away from us at any moment.
Jess assures me that he will and goes back to his book while I opt for watching Jimmy Fallon, and it’s not long before I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
* * *
IT’S MIDNIGHT BEFORE I GET home, hands cramping due to a combination of a long session and my tendency to choke up on my grips when I’m tattooing. All I want to do is crash, but when I open my door, I see my buddy’s girl, Briar, standing with her arms crossed, and Asher Kelley sitting on the couch. He only shrugs when I shoot him a look.
“You know how she gets,” he says by way of explanation.
“Dammit, Dare. When are you going to realize you have people who give a shit about you?”
“What’s she pissed about now?” I ask tiredly, tossing my keys onto the counter and bracing my palms on the edge of it.
“You missed dinner,” Kelley says, an amused smirk on his face.
“Shit, my bad.”
Briar seems to think I’m going to self-destruct at any moment. She has this rule that I go to their house once a week for dinner, but “dinner” is really code for make sure Dare has some social interaction that doesn’t involve a client and has at least one meal that doesn’t come from a microwave per week. In the two years that I’ve known her, she’s somehow weaseled her way into my life, bringing my friend count up to a total of four. Five, if you include Adrian, Briar’s friend who is even more intent on befriending me than she was for some fucking reason. The guy doesn’t even live in River’s Edge, but you’d think he does by how often he’s here, in my shop, in my house. Why is it that the few friends I do have are always in my space, completely oblivious to my propensity to be a loner?
Briar gives me a sad shake of her head. I don’t like disappointing her. She’s like a little sister. An annoying sister, but a sister nonetheless.
“I’ve b
een distracted between my truck, and there was this fucking girl—”
“Girl?” Briar asks, perking up, and I roll my eyes. “There’s a girl? What girl?”
“Jesus Christ.” I should not have said a damn word.
“Dare, did you meet a girl?” Briar asks again, coming to stand next to me in the kitchen.
“Like, one you don’t have to blow up first?” Ash chimes in from his place on the couch.
“Fuck off. She’s just some chick who came in looking for a job.”
“Hmm,” Briar says, cocking her head to the side, looking for any sign of deception. “But she’s distracting you?”
“Drop it, Briar. There’s more chance of me dating you than this girl.” That earns me a pout from Briar and a death glare from Asher. It’s true, though. I don’t date, as cliché as that sounds. I fuck when porn and my hand lose their appeal. And I’m selective about who I fuck. I prefer them to be tourists for a few reasons. They’re never here for long, therefore can’t, or shouldn’t, rather, expect anything long-term—but that’s not to say I don’t get the occasional clinger.
For the most part, though, they come into town, the good girls looking for a night with the bad boy, and then go back home to their Ivy League boyfriends, feeling like they got something out of their system. Tourists also don’t know my history, which is an added bonus. I don’t like anyone knowing my business. Not even Kelley knows the extent of my past, and he’s the closest thing I have to family and the one person who would understand, given his own similar past. I’ve hinted at what happened when he was going through his own shit, but I don’t talk about it. Cordell and his brother Cam know because we were friends back then, but they know better than to bring it up. It’s an unspoken rule. I relive that shit in my head every single night. I don’t need to be reminded of my mistakes out loud.
“For the record, I don’t believe you. But I’ll let it go. For now.” She tacks the last part on, narrowing her eyes and pointing her finger at me in an attempt to look threatening. It’s hilarious, really, considering she’s about as intimidating as a pet bunny. “And you can make it up to me by coming to my party next week,” she says, blue eyes big and hopeful.
Bad Intentions (Bad Love) Page 3
