Revenge at Raleigh High

by Hart, Callie

  “It does.” He frowns, lines forming between his brows. He seems lost in his thoughts. So lost that he doesn’t even notice when Jackie’s SUV arrives, rolling up along the curb outside the movie theater.

  I’ve met Jackie only once, when she picked up Ben from my house. I didn’t even see her when she dropped Ben off at the hospital to visit Alex after he was shot, which has always seemed weird. I observe her as she gets out of the SUV and opens the rear passenger door for Ben, trying to see what I can figure out about the woman. No makeup whatsoever. Her mousy blonde hair is scraped back into a sloppy ponytail, and the long cardigan sweater she’s wearing that goes down to her knees—seriously not warm enough in this weather—looks like it’s coming apart at the seams. She’s wearing Mom-jeans, and there are Uggs on her feet, a dark tideline rising up to her ankles where they’ve gotten wet. She looks harried and wary as she ushers Ben toward us, wrapping the cardigan sweater tightly around her slightly puffy frame, as if she’s trying to use the cardigan as some sort of shield against us.

  She’s left the SUV’s engine running, which says a lot; she isn’t planning on sticking around.

  By her side, Ben looks extra handsome in a black jacket with a pressed blue shirt underneath it.

  Alex grins when he sees Ben. “Nice jacket, man,” he says, brushing some imaginary lint from his brother’s shoulder. “Looking sharp.”

  Ben beams. His brother’s approval clearly means a lot to him. “Thanks. There was this really cool leather one at the store, well, it wasn’t real leather, but it looked just like yours. I would have preferred that one, but Mom said this one would be better.”

  Next to me, Alex tenses like he’s just been electrocuted. His eyes whip up, boring into Jackie’s face like twin lasers. He doesn’t need to explain his reaction to me, or to her. She’s already avoiding making eye contact with him as she fusses over Ben’s collar.

  “All right, Buster. I’ll be back to get you at nine thirty. I want you out front here, ready and waiting, okay? We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, and it takes an hour to get home, so…”

  “I would have picked him up and brought him back,” Alex rumbles.

  Jackie sighs. She sighs like she’s dog-tired and sick of Alex’s shit. I instantly hate her. I hate her for him. “That Camaro’s a piece of junk, Alex. It would have broken down halfway back to Bellingham. I’m not having my boy waiting out on the side of the road when the weather’s like this, while you wait for one of your loser friends to come and give you a—”

  Alex’s jaw cracks loudly. “He’s not your boy.”

  Jackie looks everywhere but at Alex. She accidentally makes eye contact with me and immediately shrinks away from it, disengaging. She fixes her attention on her watch. “All right. Three hours, Ben. I’ll see you soon.” She kisses the top of his head, turns and leaves, getting back in the SUV and then driving off down the high street.

  Alex is a perfect storm, masterfully controlled, as he purchases the tickets to the movie. We head inside to buy snacks from the concession stand. Ben goes to the bathroom, and that’s when Alex loses his fucking mind. He doesn’t rage or shout, though. He’s so, so quiet, which is far more worrying.

  “She is not his fucking mother,” he whispers, waiting outside the restrooms. “He is not her fucking son. How dare she tell him to call her that.”

  There’s no way for me to comfort him here without drawing attention to the fact that he’s fuming mad. Ben comes out of the restroom, and Alex plasters a broad smile on his face, jostling his brother, rough-housing as we make our way to the correct screen and find our seats inside. It’s impressive, how he can pretend like nothing’s bothering him like that. It’s all for Ben’s benefit. Alex gets so little time with him that he doesn’t want to ruin our evening, but I know how much he’s hurting right now. I can still see it in his eyes, and it fucking kills me.

  The movie’s terrible. It’s blood and guts from the moment the opening credits scream across the screen. The violence doesn’t stop until the movie ends on a brutal note, the last man standing finally losing his head as the psycho serial killer of the piece leaps out of the dark and takes a chainsaw to his neck. Ben is delighted. He pretends to chop and saw at the air the whole way out of the movie theater and all the way down the street to the diner. There’s enough time for a milkshake and some fries before Jackie comes back to get Ben, so we sit in a booth and joke around.

  Alex teaches Ben how to dip his fries into his chocolate milkshake, and it’s like a lightbulb going on right over the kid’s head. They include me in their little jokes, and Ben asks a lot of questions, but for the most part I just let them do their thing, let them be brothers, and it makes my heart hurt in my chest. Alex shouldn’t have to hand Ben off to Jackie like a loaner sibling he gets to borrow for a couple of hours. He’s going to be a great role model to his brother once he finally gets custody. It’s just such a shame that he has to go through the nightmare of family court first. Things get nasty inside those court rooms. Really nasty. And now things are even more complicated, because Ben’s suddenly calling Jackie Mom, and she’s whisking him off to Hawaii? Jackie’s smart. Alex might have secured the help of his social worker in order to build his case for when the times comes next year, but Jackie’s laying her own groundwork.

  He thinks of me as his mother, Your Honor. I’ve been able to take Ben traveling, to show him the world. I’ve been able to enrich his life and give him experiences he’d never have otherwise, Your Honor. What can Alex do for Ben? Really? His life is unstable and unpredictable. I am the safer bet.

  I hate that this sort of game is being played. Alex has no choice, though. He either participates or he gives up any hope he has of ever being granted custody. He’s going to have to be just as conniving and manipulative as Jackie if he wants to beat her at her own game. And how does Ben come through the other side of that kind of warfare unscathed?

  “I have something for you,” Ben says shyly, reaching into the pocket of his jacket.

  Alex stares down at the small, haphazardly wrapped gift that Ben places down onto the table and slides toward him. The paper’s Christmassy, covered in dancing elves. “What’s this for, Bud?” Alex asks.

  “I was going to wait to give it to you at Christmas, but we won’t be here now. So…Mom said I should give it to you now.”

  Alex reacts sharply to that word again, the muscles in his throat straining, his face bleaching of color, but he doesn’t correct his brother. He doesn’t say a thing. He manages to smile at Ben—a sick, unhappy, miserable smile that makes me want to burst into tears—as he picks up the gift, inspecting it, turning it over in his hands. “That’s really cool of you, man,” he says. “Early Christmas presents are the best kind. I’ll give you your gift on Wednesday, before you go away, okay?”

  Ben’s head dips a little. He picks at the bottom of his milkshake glass with his fingernail. “Mom said I won’t be able to come next Wednesday. She said there won’t be time. I can get it when I come back, though, right? That’ll be like an extra Christmas, after the real one’s over.”

  Fuck. I can’t bear the void look on Alex’s face.

  He clears his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, man, that sounds great. I’m still going to talk to Jackie about you coming next week, though, all right? But if it doesn’t work out, then that’s what we’ll do. In the meantime, I’m not going to open this just yet. I’m gonna wait until we have our Christmas, okay?”

  We walk back to the movie theater, and Ben chatters away happily, telling us about the girl who likes him at school and keeps following him around; Alex is there for all of it. He interacts and he makes jokes, and Ben’s none the wiser. My boyfriend is simmering with rage, though, dangerously close to boiling over.

  Jackie doesn’t get out of the car. She honks the horn, shouting at Ben to hurry up and get in out of the passenger window, and that’s it. Ben goes, and Alex is finally able to drop his happy façade.

  It's snowing again as he takes me by t
he hand and charges up High Street toward the Camaro. “Alex. Alex, wait. Just slow down. Where are we going?”

  “The Rock,” he snarls over his shoulder. “Fair warning, Argento. I’m about to get seriously fucking drunk, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

  22

  SILVER

  The music thumps up through the soles of my feet, pounding and raucous. The Rock is jam-packed with half-drunk patrons, the make-shift dancefloor writhing with bodies. The tequila shots we threw back when we got here haven’t seemed to make anything better. The only thing that’s changed is Alex is now sullen, frustrated, and a little buzzed.

  “Of course she never lets me pick him up and drop him off. If she did that, I’d get two extra hours with him, even if it is in the car. And she couldn’t fucking have that, could she? Anything she can do prove to me that she’s the one in control, she does it. She’s trying to fucking take him away from me for good. She’s gonna try and adopt him, I just know it.”

  “You don’t know that.” Playing devil’s advocate seems like the only way to stop him from diving off the deep end. He’s right, though. It does look like Jackie’s planning on keeping Ben on a permanent, more official basis. She wouldn’t be letting him call her Mom if she wasn’t.

  Ben was so small when their real mother died. He can’t remember a single thing about her, but Alex does. Alex remembers plenty. And to hear Ben call Jackie by the name must cut him down to the quick.

  “Another round for ya, asshole!” Paul, the bartender yells at Alex over the racket. “And another shot for you, too, Angel.” He’s much more pleasant to me when he sets my tequila down on the bar in front of me. Alex touches his glass to mine and downs the amber liquid, drinking it straight, without the salt or the lime.

  “Jesus. You really are blowing off steam tonight,” Paul says.

  Alex presses his knuckles into the edge of the bar, so hard it looks like it must hurt. “You have no fucking idea.”

  I wish I could do something to help him. Fuck, I wish I could take away this hurt. That’s all I seem to wish for these days—the magical ability to stop the people I love around me from suffering. Paul only sees Alex’s anger. He doesn’t see his pain. He reaches a hand into the front of his bar apron’s pocket and pulls something out, slapping it down onto the bar in front of Alex. “There you are. Go downstairs and give your beautiful girlfriend an orgasm or two. That’ll make you both feel better in a quick fucking minute.”

  Downstairs.

  Downstairs?

  Takes me a minute to remember what takes place below the Rock, in the bowels of Montgomery Cohen’s establishment. This isn’t just a bar, after all. There’s something far more scandalous in the basement….

  The Rock’s very own sex club.

  Alex curves an eyebrow at the two tickets Paul has just shoved at him, his eyes turned almost all-black in our dimly lit corner. “I don’t think that’s the way to solve this particular problem,” he says, his tone unamused. “And besides. I don’t think we’d need tickets.” He slides them back across the bar to Paul. “I’ve never needed a ticket to an event being held at this place.”

  “Tonight’s different.” Paul pulls a face. “There’s a burlesque act down there. Monty sold spots, there was so much interest. The bouncers aren’t letting anyone down unless they have one of these.” He waves one of the tickets in Alex’s face. The silhouette of a naked woman has been embossed in gold on the front of the black, flocked card. At the bottom of the ticket are stamped the words, ‘Admit One Only.’

  Alex doesn’t seem to care about the tickets in the slightest, or what’s going on downstairs. “If you really wanna make me feel better, have another shot of tequila lined up and waiting for me by the time I get back.” He turns to me and plants a swift kiss on my temple. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom, Argento. Stay here and keep our spot?”

  “Sure.”

  Paul forcefully plants the tickets in my hand as soon as Alex has disappeared, swallowed up by the crowd. “If you’ve never been down, then you never know,” he says. “Could be fun, right? Don’t you wanna be a little freak, just for one night?”

  Go down into the club? With Alex? The thought’s never occurred to me.

  Okay, that’s a flat-out lie. I’ve thought about it all right. I’ve imagined what it would be like with him, to descend the stairs and see what kind of Dante’s Inferno type madness takes place down there. The images I’ve conjured in my head have riled me up for sure, but the twinge of excitement I feel as I look down at the tickets in my hand are fueled by curiosity and nothing more. I don’t want to go down there to put myself on display with Alex. I’m not that desperate to see a bunch of other people naked and writhing on top of one another either. I just have no frame of reference. What the hell goes on in a sex club, for fuck’s sake? It’s the not knowing that making my cheeks feel warm.

  “I’m gonna go serve a that guy at the end of the bar. If the tickets are on the bar when I come back, I’ll put them away and we’ll say nothing more about it. If they’re gone…well, then, I s’pose I might run into the two of you down there later.” He winks, and for the first time I wonder if Paul might be attracted to Alex. I don’t think he’s gay, per se, but the way his eyes are shining right now…his excitement doesn’t seem geared toward me in any way. Is he picturing my boyfriend sweating over me, grinding himself between my legs? Is his dick hard thinking about Alex fucking me? God, that’s such a weird—

  “Hey!” Fingers dig playfully into my sides. Alex’s voice is hot in my ear. He’s standing behind me, his chest suddenly pressing up against my back. I nearly hit the roof, surprised that he snuck up on me. Why does it feel like I just got caught doing something wrong, I wonder? Alex sees the tickets still on the bar and his brow furrows. “Paul could probably make good money on those things. A drunk guy in the bathroom said he paid a hundred and fifty a pop for him and his wife to bag their passes. He says it’s nuts down there.”

  “Ahhh, he’s just trying to cheer you up,” I say. “Who knows. Maybe he’s right. Maybe a little debauchery would make you feel better. I’ve never seen a burlesque show before.”

  Alex throws back another shot of tequila. He doesn’t swallow, though. He holds the alcohol in his mouth, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I do a shot of my own, pretending that I don’t notice him staring at me. Alex eventually swallows, looking me up and down in a very odd way.

  “What?” I laugh, because I can feel a flush creeping up my neck, and the way he’s studying me is making me feel a little self-conscious.

  “You want to go fuck down there,” he says, blunt as ever.

  “No! Oh my god! No. I just meant the burlesque—”

  He steps into me, ducking down, bending his tall frame around me, taking me into his arms. His lips brush against my ear as he speaks. “I can see it on your face, Argento. You want to fuck down there, don’t you? You want to be naked. You want all those eyes on you while I make you feel good. You want hands on you, too?”

  I try to wriggle free. “No. No, no, no, Jesus, just stop. You’re such a perv. I don’t ever want anyone to touch me but you.”

  “Good. Because I won’t be held responsible for what would happen if another man tries to touch your bare skin. I’d break every single one of his fingers. Probably both arms, too.”

  God, it’s so hot in here. My face feels like it’s on fire. I’m burning up. “Hah. But you’re okay with the idea of a bunch of people looking at my naked body, though, right?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I’d probably glass anyone who looked at you, too. Fuck, I don’t know. I guess there is something hot about the idea. People looking at you. At me. Watching us fucking, getting off on it. Wanting us.”

  “But not having us,” I reaffirm.

  “No. Definitely not. No fucking way.” Alex picks up the second shot Paul set out for him while he was in the bathroom. He holds the glass to his bottom lip, pausing there, waiting for me to pick up a shoote
r of my own. His gaze is heavy on my skin, loaded with curiosity. He looks like he can’t quite fathom what’s going on in my head and it’s driving him crazy.

  The tequila burns like a motherfucker as it slides down my throat. Each shot I drink seems to burn less and less, though. It feels like my whole body is burning already, and the alcohol is barely making a difference.

  “You want to go,” Alex says. Reaching out for me, he takes hold of my loose hair and slowly winds it around his fist. “Naughty little Argento. If you want to go down there, just say so. Be brave and open your mouth.”

  “I’m—I’m—”

  He arches an eyebrow at me wickedly. “Stuttering all over the place and freaking out?”

  Damn it, he’s so infuriating. Admitting something like this to him…fuck, first I’ll have to admit to myself. Yes, I want to go down there. I want to look. I want to see. I want to experience something new and crazy. Is that so bad? Alex’s tongue flicks out, wetting the swell of his lower lip, a lean, hungry look about him, and a curl of want weaves its way up my spine. “Fine. Have it your way.” I slap my hand down on the tickets, drawing them toward me across the bar. They go straight into the back pocket of my jeans. “I want to go.”

  All of Alex’s pent up anger and frustration shifts on the turn of a dime. I witness it take place right before my very eyes. One second, his dark, bottomless eyes are still sparking with the powerful desire to burn down half of Raleigh. The next, they’re filled with excitement and intrigue, and for better or worse, his piercing attention is sharply focused on me.

  He maneuvers himself so that I’m trapped between his body and the bar, the sticky, booze-soaked wood digging into my lower back; he braces himself, hands planted firmly on top of the bar, me captured securely within the circle of his arms. A nervous thrill of energy ripples from the top of my skull, down the back of my neck, dipping over my spine, making the skin on my thighs break out in goosebumps. Fuck, the way he’s looking at me right now… He wants to devour me. Consume every piece of me until there’s nothing left. The things he’s thinking about right now are already making me blush, and I have no idea what’s going on in that handsome, beautifully tormented head of his.