Chasing Romeo

by Sarah Ready

  “No. Nobody talked to me about you or your family after the flagpole fiasco. Everybody in town assumed you did it.” Her voice is small in the dark.

  I want out of these handcuffs so I can pull her into my arms. Ten years of misunderstanding, over what? Some insane prank that I never even knew about. I kick at the rail again. I think it’s started to give way. There’s a slight bend in the metal. If I can keep kicking at the weak spot it should snap. Then I’ll be able to get us out of this nightmare.

  “How would I have done it?” I ask. “How would I have seven pairs of your underwear? And why?”

  I aim my hardest kick yet and the rail I’m cuffed to groans. The whole bed shudders. I feel the footboard with my hand. Yes, there’s a crack there. A few more hits and I’ll be free.

  “You could’ve snuck into my room,” she says, but her voice is full of doubt.

  “Really?”

  “Or maybe they weren’t mine, but you went and bought some that looked exactly like mine.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I grab the metal and try again to pry it loose.

  “But who else would’ve done it?”

  “I don’t know, but why would I?”

  Silence. Then, “I’ve been such an idiot,” she says. Her voice is thick. “I lost you. And it’s because I’m a complete and utter idiot.”

  I close my eyes at the sharp pain in her voice. “You’re not,” I say.

  “I am. It’s my fault. And now we’re going to…“

  There’s pressure in my chest so I kick out at the rail again. It bends and then cracks. Only half the metal is connected, and it looks hollow inside. Hallelujah for cheap manufacturing. One more kick and we’ll be free.

  “Chloe. It’s alright. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here,” I say. “Don’t cry. It’s okay, Sparky. It’s okay. Really. I never stopped—”

  I’m cut off, and maybe saved from making a really stupid confession.

  “I did it,” Chloe says. “I’m free, the multitool freaking worked,” I hear Chloe jump off the bed and rush toward me. She did it. She freed herself, she’s free. “Vee was right. We’re going to be okay.”

  She reaches me and—

  Suddenly, the door crashes open. Light shines in and I squint my eyes against the sharp glare. There’s a huge grizzly bear-sized man in the doorway. He’s bearded, flannelled, and holding a gleaming metal ax.

  Chloe screams.

  “Ready to die, mother effers?”

  16

  Chloe

  * * *

  I scream. And scream. And scream.

  Until I realize that the big, crazy man with the ax is laughing hysterically. And not in the maniac ax murderer kind of way, but in the “I just played the best practical joke of my life” way.

  “Phoned the ex-wife,” he says in a booming voice. “She ain’t got a clue who you are. Figure your crazy soul mate story’s true. Anywho…” He hefts the ax in his hand. “Y’all want some chow? I got fatback on the griddle.”

  In the next few minutes I take on an all new appreciation for Nick. His wrists are bloody and starting to bruise and he looks like he could chew through metal he’s so mad, but he crams it all back inside and plays along with the insane mountain man.

  We refuse the late night snack of fatback and extricate ourselves from small talk and niceties as quickly as possible. The whole while I peek at Nick and wonder exactly what he was about to say. I never really stopped…what?

  We hike back down the hill, and I gingerly step over the uneven two track. When we’re out of sight of the house, Nick grabs my hand and then we run as fast as we can. He steadies me when I trip over a stump and then we start running again. When we make it to Shelly, I’m out of breath and all cut up from the brambles and prickers.

  Nick hugs Shelly’s hood, and I’m so happy to see her that I almost do too. But then Nick turns to me and after I see the look on his face, I take a step back.

  “Never again, Sparky,” he says. “I’m never coming back to Colorado. The insane, lunatic, deranged love children of Davy Crockett and Wolverine.”

  Huh.

  “He did have signs,” I say. Because…signs.

  Nick’s eyes go all crazy and the emotion that he crammed inside earlier comes rushing out. He leaps at me. “I’ll show you a sign,” he says. His eyes are wild.

  I yelp and run around the car. Soon he’s chasing me one way then another, with Shelly as the buffer between us.

  “I’ll give you a sign, Chloe Daniels, so help me God.”

  He lunges at me and nearly grabs me. At the last minute I jump on the hood and slide across it. I can barely breathe I’m laughing so hard. Then, as I slide, my dress flips up and I flash Nick my thong.

  He stops, stunned. Then, his eyes flood with a fiery need. I scramble off the hood. My heart pounds. He stalks around the car and I back away until my legs hit the door. Nick leans forward and cages me against it. He rests his arms on either side of me and leans in until I’m completely surrounded by his heat. There’s a flicker low in my belly, and I resist the urge to push myself against him. I lick my lips and he watches the movement like he’s about to pounce.

  “Don’t…don’t pay attention to the full moon,” I say, referring to my flashing him. “It makes people do crazy things.”

  He lifts a lock of my hair and rubs it between his fingers. “Crazy’s right,” he says.

  Why is my heart pounding harder now than it was when I was handcuffed to a maniac’s bed?

  Nick tugs a bit on my hair and I let out a low moan. Then he picks me up and puts me on Shelly’s hood. He pulls me against him and gently wraps my legs around him. I can feel how hard he is, his length presses against me. He watches my face and takes in my expression.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  “Looking for a sign,” he says. Then he pulls me harder against him. I grab his shoulders and reflexively run myself down his length. He’s bigger than I remember, and thicker. My pulse picks up.

  He moans and then brings his lips a millimeter from mine.

  “I’ve been wanting to test something,” he says.

  “What?” I can’t keep up. I don’t know where this is headed.

  He takes the back of my neck and shoves his lips over mine. I cry out and open my mouth to him and he plunges in.

  Yes.

  I claw my fingers into his shoulders and scramble up against him, wanting to get closer, wanting more. I wrap my legs tighter and make a desperate noise in my throat. I need him. He picks me up and backs me against the window. He runs his length against me and I start to ride him. The pressure of his length against me is heaven and I never want to stop riding him. My mouth is still open to him, my tongue tangling with his.

  This isn’t a sweet kiss. Or a hesitant kiss. Heck no. I’m clawing at him, trying to climb in deeper, harder, faster. I yank on his hair. I want more. It’s not enough. I run myself up and down him and feel the growing, mindless need. It’s consuming me. I nip at his mouth and he bucks against me. He grabs my hair and holds me in place so his mouth can have control over mine. He’s just as demanding as me. More. I ride on his length. He’s trapped in his jeans, and suddenly, I want him free. I want his pants off and my dress flipped up and me bent over the hood and...

  A gunshot cracks through the night.

  I startle back and Nick almost drops me.

  “What the—?” he says.

  “Jeez,” I say.

  It feels like a glass of ice water was just thrown over me. I’m startled and cold without Nick around me. And I’m breathing like I just ran the New York City marathon. I don’t know about mine, but his eyes are nearly pitch black and full of hunger and need. He gently sets me down on the hood and turns away.

  I smooth my dress and stand on wobbly legs.

  He takes a second to collect himself. When he turns back he looks almost normal again.

  “We better get out of here,” he says.

  I nod. What the heck just ha
ppened and how in the world do I go forward from here?

  We climb into the car and he drives down the pothole-strewn road. Finally, after an incredibly long and awkward silence, I manage to pull my thoughts together enough to say…”So, what the heck was that?”

  Nick scowls. “That, Sparky, was a sign.”

  “Like…”

  “Like, go away, no trespassing.”

  I rub my hands over my arms and don’t ask whether the no trespassing is for him or for my Matt Smith. I look down at my legs, they’re scratched up and a little bloody. I feel dirty and gross.

  “I need a shower.”

  “Dang, I’m glad to be alive,” he says. He runs a hand over the steering wheel and lovingly strokes the dashboard. “Shelly, my love, I thought for a second I’d never see you again.”

  I smile. What a weirdo.

  Then I remember what I’d been wondering about after our “near death” experience and all that we’d said.

  “Nick, back there you said something about never stopping?”

  He shakes his head hard. His mouth sets in a firm line, the one that says he’s decided to be stubborn and take his secrets to the grave. I melt a little. His hair is mussed, he’s bloody, bruised, and clearly exhausted. He should look awful, but to me he looks…

  “Leave it alone, Sparky,” he says.

  “But…”

  “It’s in the past.”

  “But what about that kiss?” I ask.

  “It’s in the past, too. You’re after your Matt, and we’re behind schedule,” he says more firmly.

  I sigh. “Fine. But can we at least get a shower and some sleep before heading to Vegas?”

  The answer is yes.

  We each get our own hotel room, and I don’t know about him, but I take a thirty-second shower and collapse into sleep. I dream that Nick changes his name to Matt and then chains me to a bed and licks my naked body. The whole time he growls, “Who’s eating the love sugar now?”

  17

  Nick

  * * *

  Two days left…

  * * *

  It’s a long trek to Vegas, and the closer I get the more I want to turn around. There are only two potentials left, and Chloe is betting everything that one of these guys is her true love. Let me tell you why that’s really starting to piss me off. Number one, she shouldn’t let some mumbo jumbo dictate her future. Number two, the more I see of her, the more I want to keep seeing her. For the rest of my life.

  That’s it.

  That’s the awful truth that makes this drive to Vegas feel like a walk to the gallows. I can finally admit that I want Chloe. But she wants someone else, and instead of making her mine, I’m taking her to another man.

  I’m in a piss poor mood today, and seeing the flashy sings of Vegas isn’t helping.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Chloe. “You’ve been grinding your teeth since we crossed the state line.” That was an hour ago. We’ve been on the road for nearly twelve hours today, since six a.m. mountain time.

  She’s right, I have been tense. She was upset when she came out of her room this morning, but after sketching for a few hours she relaxed. But me, the closer we get to Vegas, the more my blood pressure goes up.

  “I don’t like gambling,” I say.

  She stares at my profile when I don’t say anything more. “Because of your dad,” she says.

  I look over to see if she’s judging me, or if she’s feeling pity, but neither’s there. She’s just listening. I let go of some of the tension.

  “I hate casinos, so a city full of them isn’t my favorite place.”

  When we were together I told her some about my dad, not everything, but even then I didn’t know the full extent of the problem.

  “I saw him once, at the return counter in Walmart. He had a bag full of frozen vegetables and canned food. My mom had been on me to stop eating us out of house and home for months. We barely had enough money to eat as it was. I didn’t eat much, I skipped meals to help out. I couldn’t figure it out.” I look over at her.

  “He was returning your food for money?”

  I nod. “Anything he could get his hands on.”

  “No wonder you loved coming over for dinner. I just thought you liked my mom’s cooking. I didn’t realize you were—”

  “Don’t,” I say. “I wasn’t.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I watched the cashier hand him thirty-two dollars and seventeen cents, then I followed him to the casino where he lost it in one play.”

  That’s why I hate casinos. “He was at a casino outside of Albany when he had a heart attack. He finally won big, five thousand dollars. It was enough to cover the funeral. After that, we realized he’d double mortgaged the house and taken on more debt than my mom could ever repay.”

  I think back to the hell of that week. The hungry years before that week were nothing. My dad, in his own way, shielded us from realizing the extent of his problem. I didn’t know whether to thank him or hate him for it. Ten years later, I realize he was just a human, making human mistakes.

  “So you went into the military?” Chloe asks.

  I nod. “I was eighteen. The only way I could see digging my mom and sisters out of it was by joining the military.”

  “Nick,” she says. And the way she says my name makes me turn to her, there are tears at the corners of her eyes. She’s looking at me like I’m some kind of hero.

  “Quit looking at me like that,” I say.

  She turns away and swipes at her eyes.

  I need a change of topic. So, I bring up what’s been gnawing at me since yesterday. “I think I figured out your flagpole situation,” I say.

  She jerks back to me. “What?”

  “I think I know who did it.” It’s obvious now that I’ve had a chance to think about it.

  “Who?”

  “Ron.”

  She shakes her head. “Come on. As much as I’d like to pin all the world’s ills on him, I’m not going to make Ron the scapegoat. Yeah, we all know he’s a jerk, but why would seventeen-year-old Ron steal my underwear? Honestly, you have no idea how much this destroyed my teenage years. The older ladies in town gave me the evil eye, I lost my babysitting clients, I became a pariah at school. It took years to get past it. And yet, Ron never spoke to me until I was in my twenties. He had no motive.”

  “Remember fifth grade, when Zoe Torres started wearing real bras?”

  “Yes,” she says. “I was jealous.”

  “Ron stole them and hung them in the boys’ locker room.”

  “What?” She looks at me disbelievingly. “No.”

  “Then, in ninth grade, he stole Jan Zhang’s bikini—”

  “The head cheerleader Jan Zhang?”

  “That’s right. And he brought it out for good luck rubs before football games. And then in eleventh grade he stole Mrs. Hightower’s—”

  “The biology teacher?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Stop. I don’t want to know.”

  “Then you don’t want to hear about Miss Stunk’s Spanx?”

  “No, stop. Ack. I feel dirty.” She shivers and then wipes her hands off on her legs.

  I raise an eyebrow. “So…Ron?”

  She takes out her phone and types out a quick text. Thirty seconds later a ping sounds, then another.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m texting Vee. She’s texting Zoe and Jan.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t believe me?”

  “I’m just getting confirmation.”

  Another ping sounds. “Okay. Fine. They both confirmed it… Vee says Ron admitted years ago that he did it. Zoe thought I knew.”

  “Yeah,” I say. My shoulders relax. It was a hunch, but I’m not surprised. “I guess that means my good name’s cleared.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sighs and drops her chin to her chest. “Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and tell myself not to make the mistakes that I did.”

>   I reach over and chuck her under her chin. She looks up at me in surprise.

  “Then you wouldn’t be you,” I say. “And where’s the fun in that?”

  The corner of her lip lifts into a small kissable smile and she nods. “Huh. I guess so. Plus, now I can blame all the ills in the world on Ron.”

  “That’s the spirit,” I say.

  “I really am sorry,” she says.

  “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s in the past. You’ve got your Matt Smith to find.” This comes out more curt than I’d intended.

  She sends me a sharp look. But there’s no more time for talk. We’ve made it to our next stop.

  I pull into the address I have for Matt Smith Number Five. It’s a comic shop in an old 1990s-style strip mall. There’s a long squat row of connected shops with small windows, cracked sidewalks, and an empty parking lot. The comic shop is called Rodney’s Comics.

  We walk through the dry heat of Vegas into the shop. The bells on the door jingle and the smell of freshly printed comic books and the blast of ice-cold air conditioning hits us.

  There’s nobody in the shop except for a big guy behind the counter. He has stick-straight black hair and the build of a pro wrestler. Chloe walks up to him and smiles.

  “Hey there. I’m looking for Matt Smith,” she says.

  I walk up next to her and put my fists in my pockets. What do you know? She’s getting better at approaching the topic of soul mates with complete strangers.

  The big guy leans over the desk and looks at the both of us from the tops of our heads to the tips of our shoes. I haven’t had such a thorough looking over since military inspection.

  “What? Are you friends of Matt’s from FurCon?” he asks.

  I look at Chloe. I don’t think she knows what he’s talking about either.

  “Um…that’s…because…what?” she asks.

  The guy chuckles and I think it’s at our expense. “Matt’s at FurCon.”

  Chloe perks up. She smiles and nods, “Yes. I mean, absolutely. We want to go to vercom.”

  “FurCon,” I say.