“Everyone’s got a type, and that guy is mine,” I admitted when we were inside.
“What about me?”
“Are you kidding?” I sidestepped.
He smiled at me and edged me against the front door. “I can make you forget all about him,” he said.
I yawned. Trace was hot as hell, but he was boring.
“Let’s go to one of the bedrooms,” he prodded.
I searched the sea of heads, landing at Salinger’s.
“Uh, I’m cool, actually. Catch you around, though?” I tried for casual.
“Whatever, Lily! You fucking tease,” he started yelling.
I rolled my eyes as he screamed obscenities, turning toward the part of the room Salinger was in. No one paid attention to Trace because they were used to him. Salinger talked to a few people in the corner of the living room, including that Lyric girl and their friend Noah, his back to me. I sat at the corner of Ashleigh’s sofa next to my friend Courtney. She held her fist out for me and I bumped mine with hers.
“What’s up, Court?”
“What’s up, chump? You feelin’ good?” she asked.
“Not yet. You got some stuff?”
“Always.” She smiled.
She laid on the sofa, her body relaxed. Courtney was always relaxed, though, even if she wasn’t on anything. It was her nature to be chill.
“You still looking for a job, fool?” she asked.
“Not really,” I laughed, “but both Sterling and my mom are on my ass, so I don’t think I’ve got a choice.”
“You’re a scalawag.”
I laughed. “You’re a nerd.”
“I know this already, you rapscallion.”
I laughed harder. “Shut up.”
Her chest shook with silent laughter in answer.
“I’m gonna find my man,” she said, standing up, “see if I can get him to dance with his girl.”
We bumped fists again.
“Later.”
I slid into her old place and laid my head back, trying to hear Salinger’s conversation.
“I started last Monday,” Salinger told the group.
“Where are you working?” my friend Craig asked.
“Bottle Co. Market?”
Bottle County Market was the only grocery store in our very tiny town.
Craig laughed. “Yeah, everyone’s worked there.” Not me, I thought. “It’s like a rite of passage or something,” he continued.
“Well, it’s the only place hiring, so,” Salinger said, letting it hang.
“Not much around here,” Lyric said. “Not that you have to worry,” she added, then laughed a little.
“I don’t know,” Salinger answered her.
The group got quiet, waiting for more of the story.
Lyric put Craig and, to be honest, myself out of our misery when she said, “Salinger’s in chess tournaments. The pots can be pretty big. It’s how he pays for school and stuff.”
I sat up a little.
“Dude, seriously?” Craig asked. “That’s fresh as shit.”
I took the liberty of glancing back at Lyric. She looked pleased with herself, like it was her accomplishment or something, and I snorted.
All four of them looked my direction. “What?” I asked.
“You’ve got something to say?” Noah asked.
I shook my head. “No, nothing to say.”
Salinger turned toward me, making my heart race. “No, really. What was that about?”
I sighed. “Chess competition? Come on, man,” I needled.
“Chess is an intelligent game,” Salinger said, defending himself.
“I know that.”
“Whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes, and their group turned back to themselves.
“I could mop the floor with you. No offense,” I told him.
It was Salinger’s turn to disregard me, and that pissed me off.
“Let’s go,” I said.
He laughed. “What? Here? I’m not doing that.”
“You scared?” I asked like a five-year-old. I was starting to embarrass myself, but I couldn’t stop.
“He’s on some national-level shit, dude. You don’t scare him,” Lyric spit out.
I stood, my heart racing. “Then let’s go.” I looked around me, found Ashleigh. “Ash! You gotta chessboard around here?”
She laughed and everyone around me looked at me like I’d grown five heads. My neck felt hot. Commit.
“My dad’s got an old set in his office closet, I think. Why? Does my party suck that bad?” she asked, and everyone around us laughed, including me.
“Bring it to me,” I told her.
She left down her hall to her dad’s office and returned with a wooden folding chess set. “Have at it, playa.”
“Shut up,” I laughed.
I laid out the set on her coffee table and started placing the pieces. When I was done, I sat back on the sofa and stared up at them. Lyric looked at Salinger, who shrugged his shoulders. He brought up a small stool on the other side of the coffee table and sat down.
“Oooh!” Craig bellowed. “Give them some room! It’s about to go down in this motherfucka!” Everyone laughed and I rolled my eyes. “Get Lily one of your dad’s cigars and a glass of whiskey, Ash!”
“Sit down, Craig!” I yelled, and he playfully nudged my shoulder.
“I’m black,” I told Salinger.
“To match your charcoal heart,” Court chimed in.
I pointed at her and she laughed.
Salinger moved a pawn and I followed suit. He moved a second pawn and, again, I followed up swiftly. Knight, knight. Queen, pawn. Queen, bishop. Knight, knight. We were switching moves quickly, and as the game progressed, Salinger’s cocky smile started to dissipate.
What he didn’t know, what many didn’t know, actually, was I was only good at one thing in this world and for some reason, it was chess. Translucent lines seemed to appear on the board for me, moves came naturally, tactics seemed to emerge out of nowhere. I didn’t know how or why, but I enjoyed the game, so I never questioned it. I’d never played a person, though, as strange as that seemed. I played online all the time and got better and better until the computer games started to prove a non-challenge. It was fun, but not as thrilling as the adrenaline I felt knowing this guy I didn’t know was giving me his attention and I was going to beat him. My blood pumped harder with every single move.
To be fair, he was incredible.
On the forty-eighth move, though, Salinger made a fatal mistake, and I knew I’d have him in exactly twelve additional moves, if my calculations had been correct from play seven.
Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. He was playing exactly as I’d anticipated. Six. Five. Four. His face fell slack when he realized what he’d done. His king, my knight. My king, his pawn. His knight, my king. My king, his knight.
It was done.
He fell his queen and my senses became aware of the room again, having fallen into my own thoughts during the game. Much to my own shock, the room had turned quiet. Salinger’s queen rocked back and forth on the board, the only sound in the room. His hand came into view and I looked up, straight into his face. Everyone’s faces spelled disbelief.
“Holy shit,” Courtney whispered. “Lily’s like a savant or some shit.”
“Maybe you’re not that dumb after all,” Ansen threw out.
I laughed, could feel it vibrate in my chest.
Everyone went back to the party and left me alone with Salinger and my racing heart.
“You’re good,” he said, his eyes narrowed.
I swallowed. “I like the game.”
He shook his head. “No, Lily, you are, like, incredible.”
“Thanks.” I swallowed.
Lyric moved closer, sitting on the sofa’s arm. Her stare burned into my skin.
“Ever thought of competing?” Salinger asked.
“No,” I said, leaning back, “that’s a little too stale for me.”
<
br /> “I guess,” he said and placed his hands on his knees. His eyes narrowed even further. “How’d you learn the game?”
My fingers found strands of my light lilac hair near my waist and twirled it absently around my index finger. “Played online.”
“Bullshit,” he whispered.
I laughed again. “Why is that bull?”
“You’re lying. No one can play like that unless they’ve been trained by a master.”
I shook my head slowly. He studied me. “Apparently not,” I whispered.
Lyric stood up. “Come on, Salinger.”
His eyes locked with mine, but he stood anyway. He held his hand out toward me again, and I slid my palm over his. That tingling, drugging sensation flooded my fingers and arm. It sent a thrill down my spine. We stood, our hands resting on top of one another’s. We stared down at them.
Lyric cleared her throat and we both startled. He pulled his hand away, his cheeks red.
I watched as he meandered through the crowd behind Lyric. Just as he reached the door, he turned, and we held eyes for countless seconds until Lyric yanked on the sleeve of his T-shirt. Then he was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
I GOT WASTED THAT NIGHT and fell asleep on the same sofa I’d beaten Salinger. The morning light filtered through the living room, shedding an awareness of what had gone down the night before. Several people were strewn about, sleeping where they’d last fallen, so I stood, my head pounding, my stomach on the verge of retching. I stumbled across the room toward the door, throwing it open. I knew I didn’t have time to make it to a toilet. All the contents of my stomach spilled in the grass just off the porch then I gulped air at a violent rate.
The sun beat down on my head, in my eyes, and I groaned, fishing my keys from my pocket and trying to remember where I’d parked my car. I found it and fell into the driver’s seat. I pulled over twice on my way home to vomit into the street. I parked outside my dilapidated house, tried as best I could to avoid the creakiest boards on the porch, and headed for the door, but before I could open it, it swung open. Sterling stood tall and menacing on the other side.
One of his boots landed on the porch, his meaty hand landed heavily on the back of my neck as he dragged me into the house. I fought the urge to vomit once more.
“Time for you to learn a lesson, girl,” he gritted near my ear before pushing me toward the floor.
My head swam, but I managed to roll onto my back. His fingers found my top, so I let him use most of his energy to pick me up. This was calculated on my part. He was only good for a few swings, at most. He was an alcoholic and, although he was tall, he’d deteriorated into barely anything. I knew to ride it out.
I watched as he cocked his arm back and swung a fist into my left eye. It stung so bad, but I fought the urge to cry. Instead of reaching for my face, like I wanted to, I smiled at him. This only incensed him more, and he brought his arm back once more, this time a little slower, indicating how much he’d had to drink the night before, but it didn’t matter. The sharp bones of his knuckles met my cheekbone again. Ignoring the queasy feeling in my stomach, I fought to keep upright.
“What’s the matter, old man?” I quieted.
“Watch your fucking mouth, you piece of shit,” he spit in my face.
I gritted my teeth as my other hand found his chest and attempted to push him off me. He was drunk enough that I was able to throw him off-kilter, shoving him into the wall near the front door. The whole house shook, and I heard the girls scream in their room. He threw out an elbow, aiming for my temple, but I pulled back. He caught the corner of my mouth instead, though, and I felt my lip split. I could hear Callie and Eloise whimpering, and that sobered me. He pounced, shoving his forearm into my throat, and pinned me against the wall again.
The girls began crying and he let me go, his eyes seethed at me, promising a furious revenge, but I didn’t care as long as he didn’t scare the girls anymore that morning; that’s all I cared about.
“Let’s discuss this later,” I offered. “Away from the girls.”
He started to laugh. “Oh, we’ll discuss it later, all right, when I put a bullet in your head.”
“Promises, promises,” I countered like a fool.
“You don’t think I will?” he asked, a smile plastered on his face.
“You’ve promised to kill me thousands of times, yet you’ve never followed through.”
“One day,” he promised.
“And when that day comes, I won’t stop you,” I told him.
He laughed. “You’re so worthless, even you know it,” he told my back when I turned to head toward the girls’ room.
Ignoring him, I headed down the hall and opened their door. They were huddled together on Eloise’s bed, the blankets pulled over their heads. When they heard me, they pulled them down to see who it was.
I swallowed, hoping the blood wasn’t too obvious, but from the looks on their faces, it was noticeable.
“You guys okay?” I asked softly.
They nodded their heads.
“Go back to sleep, all right? I’ll keep you safe.”
Both of their shoulders relaxed and they burrowed under their threadbare covers. I closed their door and went into my room, right next to theirs. I stood still, listening for movement from Sterling. He rummaged around in the kitchen, opening and slamming cabinet doors.
“That woman is fucking worthless,” I heard him mumble.
I heard him stumble across the house to the front door, opening and closing it behind him. I listened for the engine of his car and heard it barrel past my window. I leaned against the jamb of my door and lightly brought a hand to my face. It came back bloody, so I ditched my clothes and took a shower, only to dress once more to try and get some sleep before he came back.
I never went to bed without being fully clothed, just in case I had to leave in a hurry, for obvious reasons, including shoes. I learned the hard way that running barefoot down our gravel road hurt like you wouldn’t believe. I sat down, my back to the wall, one foot on the floor and one on the bed. It was the best position to feel any vibration from any approaching person.
I brought my tray out and rolled a quick blunt, taking a few hits to calm myself down. I winced at the pain in my lip as I took a puff. When I was done, I put my tray under my bed and laid back.
I fell asleep quickly, escaping into a rather nice dream, where Sterling was dead and the girls and my mom and I were happy and healthy.
CHAPTER THREE
I FELT MOVEMENT IN my leg and shot up straight, still slightly groggy. It was my mom.
“Where’s Sterling?” I asked.
“He’s not here,” she said, sitting at the corner of my bed near my foot.
The back of my hand found my eyes, trying to rub the sleep away. “What time is it?”
“Two in the afternoon.”
I yawned, then looked at her. “Where are the girls?”
“Next door at sweet Alta Mae’s house.”
I took a deep breath. “Good. How was work?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “It was work.” She cleared her throat. “They’ve got a position open—”
I laughed at her. “No, thanks.”
“I need you to find a job, Lily.”
I leaned back against the wall. “Stop bugging me about it. I’ll do it when I’m ready.”
She shook her head. “You sound just like your father.”
I bolted upright again. “That man is not my father, and I am nothing like him.”
“He wouldn’t be so bad right now, if you were working,” she defended, ignoring me.
I laughed. “He could get a job, you know, if he was so stressed about cash.”
“Lily,” she said, sounding exasperated.
“How about this? I’ll get a job when he does.”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, her eyes narrowed. “Why is your eye black? Your lip split?”
I looked down at my lap. “We got into it.”<
br />
She sighed as she reached for my face, but I gently batted away her hands. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What did you do to him?” she asked.
I laughed bitterly. “Nothing.”
“You shouldn’t provoke him.”
“Whatever, Mom. I seem to provoke him just by existing.”
“That’s not true. He only gets worked up like that when you do something to him.”
I shook my head at her. “My God, you’re delusional.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re making excuses for him when you know deep down he’s wrong. You know he’s a violent drunk.”
She averted her eyes. “He’s just not himself right now.”
I laughed so loud she jumped a little. “He hasn’t been himself for as long as we’ve ever known him, Mom.” I swallowed. “When are you going to realize this is who he is?”
My phone went off. It was a text from Ansen, asking if I wanted to go into town with him and his girlfriend, Katie. I stood up and my mom left, closing the door behind her without saying another word. I changed, smoked a quick blunt, brushed my teeth, and curled my hair, trying to hide the bruises on my neck and face with foundation I didn’t normally wear, so it was a bit yellow. It didn’t work very well, but I was hoping people would see it and know I didn’t want to talk about it. I put on a deep red lipstick to cover up the split in my lip.
I traveled down the little country road we lived on, heading toward Ansen’s. I picked up him and Katie and hit Main to get a burger at Chuck’s.
“What’ve you been up to, Katie?” I asked.
“Nothing much. What’s new with you?”
“Same,” I said.
She leaned forward. “Doesn’t look like it,” she said, gesturing to my badly covered black eye.
“Yeah, Sterling and I got into it.”
“That sucks,” she said, leaning back in her seat.
That’s when I noticed a tall boy walking on the side of the road about 200 yards ahead.
“What is this guy doing?” Ansen asked.
Katie leaned forward, squinting her eyes. “Looks like that Salinger guy from Ashleigh’s party,” she said absently.
I looked at him closer. I slowed down and as we passed him; his hair swept up slightly in the wind. He turned to look at us, and my heart started to beat hard in my chest.
IDLE: Book Four of The Seven Deadly Series Page 2
