DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  “You honestly don’t know a thing about me, Emmy Lou,” Blue quips before placing her blunt back between her plush lips. “Don’t hate me because you want to be me.”

  My nose twists. “Be you?”

  “You’re a badass—” She exhales smoke through her lips. “—but you’re a pushy pussy. You could’ve had any of these men groveling at your feet.”

  “For what? So I can brag about it?” I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “I don’t need the self-esteem boost, thanks.”

  “Girl, I might be someone that you believe is a whore, but at least I get what I want when I want it.” She blows a large cloud of smoke in the air. “I don’t sit there and daydream all night about it.”

  “You don’t know what I do.” I return my attention back to the daycare building. “Just keep your comments to yourself, ‘kay.”

  My cell buzzes in my lap, graciously allowing me a getaway from Blue and her bullshit.

  UNKNOWN: Here’s another stupid line, but…I can’t stop thinking about you.

  EMMY: And who might you be?

  UNKNOWN: Damn, how many men act like ass clowns around you?

  Alexander.

  EMMY: How in the actual hell did you get my phone number?

  ALEXANDER: Your assistant, Lola, is lovely. She practically sent my first message for me.

  EMMY: And you used it to your advantage. How appropriate and not creepy at all. What do you want?

  ALEXANDER: I told you that I had a hard time following directions.

  ALEXANDER: I wanted to ask you to go grab that drink with me.

  EMMY: The persistent and annoying award isn’t something I’m giving out tonight. Go check with Tammy or whatever her name was.

  “He stares at you, you know.” Blue’s velvet voice progresses more in my inner turmoil, and so does the large cloud from her exhale in the front seat. “When you’re too busy on that laptop of yours. Though I think he’s right, you don’t—” I smack her blunt out of her hand, then twist my body to face her head-on. My fingers scream at me to wrap around her long, red locks and pull a basic ass bitch move.

  “Quiet. I like fucking quiet. I don’t need some high school gossip or girl talk on who you think likes me or not. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  Blue blinks at me, unmoved by my flaming temper. “Relax, blonde Barbie. Don’t pop a tit over it.”

  “Again, fuck you.”

  She lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow then flicks her eyes to the backseat. “Do you want me to?” A conniving look flashes across her face as she looks back at me. I can see the wheels in her head moving. That she has the same games to piss me off that Bishop does. “That’ll definitely get Bish to make a move. Shit, if he thought you and I were fucking around in the background.” She lets out a wicked little chuckle. “Oh, girl...he’d be ready to give you all that dick.”

  “You just heard me when I said I like quiet, right? Do you still have some come stuck in your ear from earlier or…?” She laughs again. Clearly, I’m amusing to her.

  “I think getting with a bad boy will do you good. It’ll shake your cute and perfect little world up. Open you up to new experiences. And who knows…he might fuck you so efficiently that it’ll loosen that stick out of your ass.”

  “Says the woman who hasn’t had a relationship last longer than a blowjob.”

  Blue scoffs. “Well, at least I still live in a reality where I don’t bat my eyelashes and expect people to read my mind. Seriously, Em…I’m not sure what you’re waiting for. Marrying a prince was for when we were eight and thought Lip Smackers were makeup.”

  “Stay out of my business,” I gripe for the tenth time. “You’re giving me a headache, and we’re not girlfriends, so keep your advice to yourself.”

  Blue thankfully decides to keep her mouth closed, lighting up another joint and keeping to herself for once. I get lost on my Instagram page when metal slams against something loudly, and my head jerks up to discover what it was.

  Outside are Bishop and Kyson pointing fingers every which way and arguing. But my immediate attention lands on the woman at Bishop’s side with blonde hair. Her legs are long in jeans, a yellow t-shirt hanging loosely over her skinny frame.

  Except it’s Bishop’s hand that’s possessively clamped over her wrist that makes my stomach twist before Bishop gets into Kyson’s face again.

  They never fight.

  I mean, they do, but not like this. That’s Marty and him.

  Bishop strides away from his best friend and towards his truck, leaving Kyson raking his red hair with his fingers. He looks agitated as he begins to pace the darkness of the parking lot, and I’m already opening up the car door to go to him.

  Blue warns me off, but Kyson is the last person that would ever yell at me unless I really pushed. I’m not her.

  His golden eyes find me approaching, and he stops, waiting for me to meet him.

  “Are you guys okay?” I gently ask, peering to the open door where Mills and Marty haven’t come out yet.

  “Yeah,” he exhales out. “Just...bullshit is all.”

  “Who’s the girl?” Kyson lets out an angry snicker and begins pacing again. It’s my cue to leave it because this isn’t him.

  Marty and Bishop are the two hotheads, but then again, their personalities clash too much. Bishop and Kyson are practically twins but a year apart. They are what I envy with my two older brothers. A real relationship to where they can argue but get over it a minute later.

  But something about this doesn’t settle well. Kyson can usually blow Bishop’s shitty-ass attitude off like it’s nothing but this. Kyson paces and, drawing a palm down the side of his face, something is worrying him.

  Or someone.

  Their relationship is nothing like mine with my two older brothers.

  Beckett and Adler are the heathen banes of my existence. Nothing is ever good enough by their standards, and I might as well be Susie Homemaker for they have the 1950’s mindsets. Working independently and not wanting to marry just for shits and giggles boggles their tunnel-visioned minds.

  We used to get along as children, but something in our dynamic changed, and we’ve never been the same since.

  “Don’t worry about it, Em,” Kyson finally replies, then promptly continues with, “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Emmy.” Bishop’s enraged voice assaults my body like a taser, electric with an aftershock of every nerve ending being zapped and locked into place.

  The bitterness dripping from his words makes me immediately shutter in response as I slowly pivot to face him. And I’m met with his heated blues boring into me like I did something wrong—again.

  “Willy Wonka, not the motherfucker from the chocolate factory, a real fucking guy...find him.”

  Then he marches away, right to the petite blonde that’s standing in front of his truck, hugging herself against the cold or Bishop, I’m not sure.

  Kyson never tells me who she is, and I’m afraid to know. An empty pitting in my stomach begins to form, and I force myself to shake it off.

  I need to go home.

  Now.

  Eighteen Years Ago…

  “God, baby girl, you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream my name when you come.”

  “Please,” a female voice begs through a choked sob. “Let me go.”

  Kyson and I freeze at the same time, the familiarity of that voice hurling into my gut like a punch. I replay it in my head, believing that I must be hearing shit.

  That I want to be hearing shit.

  An animalistic grunt sounds from the abandoned carpool parking lot nearby on the road that we’re walking on. A red pickup truck the only thing parked on it.

  Kyson instinctively pulls his knife out of his back pocket, and I do the same.

  We’ve just come back from running an errand for Kyson’s grandma. Nothing exciting unless you want to count mixing green tomatoes with the Granny Smith apples at the grocery store your idea of an eventful night.

  Slowly
, I place down the plastic bags in my hand and move into the small ditch for cover. Kyson follows as the truck begins to move side to side.

  I know that truck.

  I know the asshole that drives that truck.

  Kyson jerks his head in the direction of it and pads towards the rusted piece of shit.

  Of course, I follow as a female loudly squeals, prompting Kyson to rip open the door.

  Reaching inside, I clutch onto the back of someone’s leather jacket and tear them out of the car, letting them fall to the stones and broken cement below.

  Identity confirmed. It’s exactly who I thought it was.

  “Why if it isn’t Mac Lancaster,” I coo, fisting my blade tighter in my palm. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for years.”

  He peers up at me, deep-set eyes narrowed before flicking them to Kyson behind me. “And? The fuck do you think you’re going to do?”

  A mirthless chuckle escapes my lips because I’ve been dreaming of this moment too many times. However, before I can open my mouth, Kyson speaks.

  “Bish,” he calls out lowly, distress clogged in his words. When he doesn’t continue, I glimpse over my shoulder, finding my best friend still standing by the driver’s side door with it open.

  He gestures to the interior, and I move, not asking what or why.

  We work that way together, with complete trust and respect for the other. Something rare in our world.

  Glancing inside, I almost throw up. The bile in my stomach begins to bubble like the inside of a volcano because there are still two more people on the front bench of Mac’s truck.

  Camilla, my girl, and some dude with his raw dick in her ass.

  She’s laid out with her back to his chest, set up perfectly to get a train ran on her in the middle of nowhere. We’re between town and the trailer park, but no one drives on this road too much, let alone walk it like Kyson and I just did.

  And as much as I wish I hadn’t, I’m glad we did.

  Because my girlfriend just got raped by the motherfucker I’ve been hunting and impatiently waiting to show up again.

  Kyson silently appears at my side, his palm clenching the side of the door like he’s right there with me about to lose all the contents of the junk food we ate at the Green Stand Market.

  “Cam,” I choke out, gripping the bed of the red pickup to hold back my gag reflex. “C’mon.”

  She moves, and I close my eyes, not able to see someone’s cock sliding out of her or the look of pure embarrassment and horror of what she just went through.

  A deep chuckle sounds behind me, purposely taunting because Mac knows who Camilla belongs to, and it sure as hell isn’t the trailer park.

  “You about to fill in for her, Bishop?” Mac provokes as I move to the side to allow Camilla out of the truck. “I heard you’ve taken it up the ass a few times.”

  “Kyson,” I ground out in warning because I’m about to lose my entire shit in approximately two seconds if he doesn’t stop me. And it’s going to end badly, bloody, and messy.

  Like we’re hiding a body in the woods bad.

  “Yep,” my best friend replies through a snarl, already aware of what I’m asking him to do.

  “Kace.” My eyes shoot open to find Cam standing there, still pantless but with her light pink shirt on. Her dark blonde hair is matted to her face with sweat and pretty blue eyes rimmed in red from crying.

  Placing my knife on the railing of the truck bed, I immediately pull down my sweatpants, removing my sneakers to get them off my feet.

  Mac whistles. “Damn, Bishop, I’ve never fucked a dude before but…I mean, if you’re game.”

  I hand my black pants to Cam, standing against the coolness of the night in my boxers. “Here, put these on. They're warm.”

  Her fingers brush mine as she takes them, and I almost allow the buildup of tears in my own eyes to take over.

  Something hits the inside of the truck, and I quickly reach out to cover Camilla’s ears, fully aware of what’s about to happen next.

  A pained howl follows as I glance up from Cam to watch Kyson in the front seat, arm raised with his blade in his hand before it thrusts downward into the dude that played a part in my girlfriend’s worst nightmare.

  Flicking my attention to her because I have to be the strong one here, she just stares back at me. Her frame begins to shake from the aftermath, the fear, the possibility that maybe I’ll hate her and not want her after this.

  I see Mac move from my peripheral, gaining my focus but all he does is stand. He doesn’t make a move to help out his buddy, nor does he run.

  That’s the thing on the streets, if you want to be taken seriously, you face your shit head-on. You don’t pussy out and dip but fight what’s in front of you.

  And here, since we all don’t have a pot to piss in, pride and fear are what everyone wants around here.

  The howls and gurgles eerily cease, and I remove my hands from the sides of Camilla’s face then straighten my spine.

  “Camilla,” I mutter. “You need to do me a favor.” She nods instantly. “Take this truck and drive home. Park it outside the chain-linked fence at the front, and I’ll handle it later.”

  “Kace.” My name is barely audible off her lips, and I press my forehead to hers, smelling male cologne that isn’t mine, and it knots my gut even harder.

  “This changes nothing. Do you hear me? I still love you, you’re still mine.”

  A broken whimper escapes her pink lips, and she bobs her head again.

  An empty grunt sounds at my side, and I know that Kyson is already starting without me. Camilla begins to turn her head, but I lock it between my palms, keeping her eyes on me.

  “Take a bath,” I tell her, feeling her tremble under my touch. “With bubbles. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Kace…I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I am,” I counter. “I wasn’t here. This is my fault.”

  “You kick like a fucking bitch,” Mac storms out, creating Camilla to jolt closer into me.

  I give Camilla a little shove towards the door, and when she begins to hop inside, she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

  Rounding her body, I find that Kyson left the dude he just stabbed to death, chilling there. Blood literally every-fucking-where.

  “Fuck,” I mumble. “Uh…I can drive in—“

  “I can do it,” she quakes, clutching the door’s handle. “I can—” She suddenly bends over and releases everything in her stomach at her feet.

  “Give me ten minutes—“ I gather up her hair in my hand. “—I need you to close your eyes and cover your ears.”

  “I promise…I-I got it,” she stammers. “I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t drive with a dead dude in the front seat. You’ll never make it.” I rub her back in comfort, hoping it does a little bit of something. I’m shaking too, but it’s not from fear. “It’s alright, I got this. Get in the truck bed, and I’ll turn on the music.”

  And I do.

  Lying From You by Linkin Park semi-blares from the Ford speakers as Camilla lies down on the cold metal of the bed.

  Kyson has a headstart on me, stomping Mac with the bottom of his white Adidas shoes that I stole for his birthday last year. He’s particular about his shit being clean, but right now, he gives zero fucks.

  Blood splatters the top of his sneakers and jeans as he kicks, thrusts, and beats Mac into the ground.

  Swiping my blade back, I stride in their direction, heart thudding wildly in my chest as visions of my girlfriend broadly spread through my brain. Mac has destroyed the lives of people that are incredibly close to me.

  He murdered my father for fun while I’ve had to endure watching him walk around free for years. Burned my father alive in his car while the cops did nothing. I’ve craved to feel death at my hands ever since but saved it for him.

  This moment.

  And I’m lucky. I get to kill two birds with one stone—one for Dad and the other for my girl.

>   I believe that was the first time I’ve felt pure white fury. Where circumstances be damned, and justice in prison was made for people who didn’t have the stomach for blood. I was born in the hollows of hell, bleeding was like breathing.

  And I was finally going to slaughter one of Bubba’s bitches.

  Stopping within a foot of Mac, I say, “Stand up.”

  Kyson steps aside, allowing us space as he glances over at the truck where Camilla is currently curled into a ball.

  She needs to go to the hospital, but she never will. She won’t want to accept that all of this is real and that it happened.

  It’s how I felt when Bubba raped me at ten-years-old. I wanted it to stay a nightmare that wasn’t real, and that’s how I lead on with my life. Camilla being with me at the time helped me plow through that day and onward. Especially since I had nothing left at home.

  Hardy and Scarlett are gone, and I’m lonely.

  “Two against one, Kace,” Mac quips with a cock of his head. “Is this how we’re gonna do this?”

  I remove my shirt, yanking it over my head and tossing it to Kyson. Mac sweeps his gaze over my body, landing on my junk for a second.

  “If you wanna fuck me,” I convey. “You’re gonna have to get me down on the ground. I’m a little taller than when Bubba got the chance with a lot more weight.”

  “I don’t fuck dudes, asshole,” he snorts back. “I love pussy just like the—“

  “Then keep your fucking eyes off my dick and throw the first punch so my buddy can have some fun with you.”

  Mac glances over at Kyson then back at me. “I’m not fighting both of you at the same time. We’re gonna do this man to man.”

  “And if I lose, you can walk home.”

  “And if I lose?”

  “Then I hope you like to bleed because what I have planned for you is gonna leave a scar.”

  Mac begins to circle me, gaze glued to where I stand while I wait for him to throw the first punch.