by Billie Dale
“You’re such a joke, Spammy Gentry. For all your smarts and prospect, you’ll still end up back here, shacked up with your daddy, alone. Oh, you may have a big job making good money, but no one will ever be able to love you, you’re too pathetic. I mean, even your whore mother couldn’t stand to stay around you.”
I suck in a harsh breath, holding up a hand to stop Mazric and a fast approaching Preslee; who’s seconds from ripping every strand of Asia’s hair from her head. “Yeah, Asia, my momma left, and you are right. I will make something of myself and if I end up back here, taking care of my dad, well so be it because he has taken care of me all these years. But you, well, you’ll be reading my accomplishments in the paper while hiding your misery from your children. I’m sure you won’t be alone ‘cause God knows you couldn’t keep your knees closed long enough. While I’m helping people and curing disease, you’ll be sobbing because your husband would rather screw Betty Lou from the bar than spend another second listening to the tone of your voice. Stuck in the glory years of what if while watching my best friend’s name spread like wildfire through the sports world. See, I’ll be there by his side while you’re just the one he fucked a few times in high school.”
“You bitch,” she screams, lunging, but she’s stopped by Mazric looping an arm around her waist.
“Truth hurts, sweetheart.” I hide the hurt she inflicted behind a victorious grin. “Now get the hell off my property and never show your face at Double V again.”
“This place isn’t yours. It’s Mazric’s, you’re just a piece of shit who doesn’t know when to leave, and he’s too nice to make you.”
“Party’s over. Pack it up,” Pappy yells from the shore, and even blurred by the sun, I can tell he’s pissed.
“Good luck, guys.” Preslee squeezes me in a tight hug, whispering in my ear, “Don’t let her acid bother you. None of it’s true.”
“Isn’t it though?” I murmur too low for her to hear.
Her forehead crinkles looking between Maz and me. “Right, well, I’m headed home. Call me later?” I nod and she swims inland, climbs from the water, and says something to Pappy before engaging in what appears to be a heated argument with Hendrix. Her “Whatever,” carries on the wind across the water to my ears as she stomps away from her brother.
“Sammy?” Mazric calls, his voice low and unsure.
“Now, you two,” Pappy roars, saving me from having to look at him.
We tread to the shore, clomping out when the water gets too shallow with slow steps and our heads down. “Samantha Lee Gentry, where in the Billy-blue-hell are your clothes, young lady?”
“Oh damn.” In all the bedlam I forgot my decision to swim in my undergarments. I look down to my thin white cotton bra and matching panties, cringing because they’ve become transparent. My nipples bead against the fabric and I can see their pink color. Down around the elastic of my panties the dark tint of my pubic hair stands stark against the pale material. Red-hot shame rushes through my body while my eyes scramble to find my clothes. I’m too preoccupied to notice Hendrix until the soft cloth of his T-shirt covers my head. His chocolate and smoke scent engulfs me when I pull it down and slip my arms through the sleeves; thankful it hangs down to my knees.
“Hendrix, walk Sammy back to the house,” Pappy orders.
“Yes, sir,” Hendrix replies as Mazric yells, “No.”
Trapped in the static of embarrassment, I ignore their conflict, slip on my flip-flops, tuck my clothes under my arm, and walk away with Asia’s words blaring like a bass drum in my head.
Eighteen
MAZRIC
I SHOULD’VE WARNED Sam about the party but then she wouldn’t have come. With our busy schedules I don’t see her much and I miss her. The plan was to plant myself next to her and catch up on lost time. Then the girls began shedding clothes and the tiny brain in my dick took over. Asia DeMarco’s itsy-bitsy bikini is a sight to behold. Sure, I’ve seen all the underneath and tasted every inch of her skin. But I’m a teenage boy, she’s kind of naked and General Dickenstein has taken over, pushing subliminal orders of take and plunge through my head.
He’s a pig but his request has merit.
Besides, Sammy has Elvis to keep her company and Jimmy, though he’s pushing his luck. I like Hendrix, but if he doesn’t stop looking at my fifteen-year-old friend like she’s a delicious piece of steak I will poke his eyes out.
We’re celebrating the last hoorah of summer. The sun scorches our skin, music blares drowning out the buzzing cicadas, and each kid brought pilfered alcohol to fill the cooler. It’s all good until Sammy and Hendrix perform.
Her raspy voice slinks over my skin and the words hit true. Jealousy rears ugly and powerful over the seamless way they interact. I listen to the song she and Pres performed all those years ago. “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls is my guilty pleasure. Sam’s laughter and carefreeness from that night fills in the gaps when I haven’t had time to spend with her.
Asia and I maintain a friends-with-benefits arrangement, at least on my end of things, but listening to her unleash true hatred on my best friend ends us. When this school year is through, Seven Mile Forge will be a cloud of dust in my rearview mirror. Offers line up to play ball with the best D1 schools in America. Sammy is set with a scholarship to med school, leaving Mom and Pappy my only tie to this town. I don’t want a woman left to pine for me. I’m strict with my no entanglements policy, though I missed the hearts in Asia’s eyes, so maybe I need to be a tad more selective with my playmates.
Asia spouted a bunch of bullshit, but I stood there with my thumb up my proverbial ass. Not like I could tackle her and shove her under until she agreed to apologize, though I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind a time or a million. But the whole ‘never lay hands on a woman’ prevents me from touching her.
The whole scene is laughable. Sammy knows what she means to me and all these insults do is show Asia’s desperation. Sammy Lee won’t take her harassment, her confidence in us will rear in the form of big-worded insults Asia DeMarco won’t even know are barbs.
Wait for it.
What the hell? This smile she’s sporting is part of the same mask she wears whenever Johnny disappoints her and she doubts herself. I want to grab pom-poms when she retorts, slamming Asia with the cold harsh reality of the future which coils Asia tighter than a rattlesnake ready to strike, but Sam’s believing her vile shit.
Now Paps hovers, and judging by the stern line of his lips, he’s none too happy with our party. While I stood stunned, fighting the mother of all erections when Sam emerged from the water showing everything in perfect wet dream fashion, Hendrix jumped on the hero-train covering her with his shirt. The soaked material of her thin cotton bra displayed the tight peaked points of her light nipples. At the V of her legs dark curls push against her panties, showing just enough to make me hard as stone and wanting more.
Do you know how impossible it is to want someone more than your next breath, but stay at arm’s length because they’re too young for the things you want to do? No, you don’t, because the average person isn’t a pervert mackin’ on their best friend. Busty girls like Asia are how I stay away from all things Sammy Lee. The curvier the better in my book.
I’ve heard Sam complain, more than once to my mom, about her lack of body, biting my tongue when Ma promises her assets will come. Fuck my life if she ever starts looking like a woman. There isn’t a girly bone in Samantha Gentry’s boyish body, but she’s gorgeous without knowing or trying. Now all the guys in my class know she’s got more simple sexiness than they thought after her little skinny-dipping stunt. I’ve studied every freckle while she sleeps. In the morning, when her sleepy lids hang heavy, her eyes are the deepest shade of emerald, highlighted by the wild mane of dark hair fanned around her head; it’s my favorite time of the day.
The nightmares used to send me up the tree outside her window. Those faded as I got older, but my need for her comfort stayed. My ear on her chest, listening to the so
ngbird rhythm of her heart is an addiction I’m unwilling to beat. When we go our separate ways for college, I’ll miss those moments of unbidden quiet where her tanned skin glows in the moonlight, and my true feelings live for seconds in the split of a new day.
Maybe I’m a heartless ass, but the day Hendrix boarded a plane to New York I was the first to say ‘see ya later,’ and my heart pranced around like a stud in a room full of wanton women, fist pumping the air. The days of him and Sam spending hours together at Carmichael Plantation were d-o-n-e. I love the guy like a brother, but Sam didn’t need the distraction of all that is Hendrix. Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway.
His visits are few and he’s always had some hanger-on draped on his arm, until now. He’s glued to my best friend’s side and he’s been shooting hungry looks at her all day. No way in hell I’m letting him walk her half-dressed ass back to the house. Nope, not happening.
“Mazric Jason,” Paps yells when I chase after Sam, jogging past Hendrix’s rapid steps.
“Sammy Lee, wait.” Her head angled toward the ground, she speeds up her steps but my long legs close the distance. I grab her forearm, swinging her to face me. “Hey.” My words die when the fresh tears dampening her cheeks gut me. Sadness turns her ivy forest to seafoam green with puddles building on her lower lashes. “Hey,” I whisper softer, pulling her to my chest. For seconds she lets me hold her. I breathe in her pond-scented hair as the wetness of her sobs slicks my chest. She’s broken, but in true Sammy fashion she inhales a shaky breath, straightens her spine, and shoves me away.
“I’m fine,” she huffs, sweeping her knuckles across her cheeks.
“Sam, the things Asia said —”
She holds up her hand. “I said I’m fine. Go, help Paps.”
“But—”
Hendrix loops his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into himself. I watch her body deflate in his comfort and a knife pierces my breastbone, cutting a gaping hole in my heart. As they traipse up the lane, another wall stacks up between us.
Nineteen
SAMANTHA
GRADUATION FOR MAZRIC and Preslee is in sight. A mere collection of weeks is all we have together. Mazric’s leaving for early training at UCLA, Preslee is pursuing a degree in working with movie stars—her words not mine—she’s majoring in fashion, minoring in makeup art. She glammed on to a scholarship to Otis College of Art and Design, within thirty miles of Mazric. They both decided it would be money efficient if they travel back and forth together.
When she first announced her news, the envy beast inside me roared with hateful jealousy. For a hot minute I pondered the merit of dismembering her and feeding her to Princess Glitter Piggle II. Everyone knows it’s the best way to dispose of remains because pigs eat anything. I must have shown the crazy in my eyes because she was quick to explain her and my manwhore best friend would never be more than what they are.
Since I’m only fifteen, Johns Hopkins insists I live with a host family until I’m of legal age to get a place of my own. Daddy balked at first but consented after Carrie Lynn flew to Maryland with me for the meet and greet. The couple is as Southern as we are, with thick Alabama accents. The husband teaches at the college and the wife is a pediatric heart surgeon. He even agreed to let me move in early to get a feel for the area.
My days at the plantation spread into long hours spent missing my friends. My mind wanders to what they’re having for lunch, how many teachers Joey is pissing off, and what harem of women converge at Maz’s locker each day. Vivianne is amazing but leaves me to my independent studies. I loved it when Hendrix was here. Even though he was reclusive, his music breathed life into the room.
I long for three fifteen because it means Preslee sweeps in the house like a hurricane, leaving a path of possessions in her wake. Shoes, backpack, purse, keys; they never land in the same place twice. She grabs the snack her aunt prepared, snags my hand, and drags me to her room to fill me in on all the daily gossip and goings on at SMF High.
Vivianne’s idea of an after-school treat means something organic and meatless. Most days I’m not even sure what sits on the plate. Some are okay, others smell like dirty sweat socks. We don’t want to hurt her feelings so we flush it down the toilet and Preslee pulls sweets from her hidden box in the closet. Today she’s spread out gummy bears, Rice Krispies Treats, and miniature Snickers. She claims coverage of the essential food groups: fruit, cereal, milk chocolate, and nuts for protein. I used to tell her she was wrong but my words fall on deaf ears, plus I kind of love her addiction to sugar.
“I can’t believe you’re not going. Why won’t you let me take you?” She pouts, trying to sway me with a pouched bottom lip and giant puppy dog eyes. This has been our great debate for days.
Prom.
Preslee wants to take me as her date; I refuse to third wheel their evening. “I can’t do that to Joey. He took the time to spell out his proposal in M&M’s. Prom is for couples and you, my friend, deserve it after putting up with Joey Holmes all these years.”
“Meh, he can go too. We’re allowed to bring one guest and I want you to be my plus one,” she huffs, but then I swear I see the light bulb pop up above her head. “Oh, oh, OH! Joey can take Hendrix, I’ll bring you.” She bobs her head up and down so hard her ponytail flips her forehead.
“I don’t know, Pres. Does Hendrix want to go? Wait. Don’t answer. I can’t. Johnny doesn’t have the money for a dress. My plane ticket to Maryland ate up all our extra cash.”
Her lips pucker and the patch of skin between her brows furrows. She squints one eye, pursing her mouth to the side. “He still hasn’t asked anyone, ya know.”
“What? Who?”
“Don’t play stupid, Samantha Lee Gentry. If you want Mazric to take you to the prom, ask him. You’ve been moping around ever since Joey asked me. Or better yet, go along with my plan, have a fun time and forget Mazric for one night. You’ve been pining over his blind ass far too long.”
Have I been transparent?
Does everyone know how I feel about my best friend?
Oh crap, does he know?
A nauseating wave flips my stomach upside down and the past eight years reel through my head. All the days and nights we spent glued to each other. The secret ways I’d find to touch him. The last few years, his stinky boy odor became the woodsy man scent I crave. My favorite moments come deep in the dark when he’s safe in my bed. Over the years we switched from him lying on my chest to his body aligned behind me. His warmth blankets me and even on the hottest days of summer, I refuse to move. By morning we’re so twisted around each other I can’t tell where I end and he begins. Discovering his morning wood halted his visits for a few long months, until I told him I didn’t care and understood it’s all part of being male, with assurances of knowing it has nothing to do with me.
I will miss the thrill of his hard length tucked between my lower cheeks but not how hard I fight the urge to roll over and attack him. About a year ago, sleeping with my best friend became a grueling battle against Mother Nature. I’m thankful women don’t have a prominent body part to show arousal like men.
A scoffing hiccup pushes from my chest, “You’re nuts. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I care who Mazric takes to the prom?”
“Maybe because you’ve been in love with him since you were eight years old.” A rebuttal rests on my tongue but she’s not done. “Look, Sam, you’re leaving, he’s leaving. You get one chance for prom. You’re already missing out on graduation. I don’t want you to forgo this rite of passage experience because Mazric Vortex is wearing blinders to what’s right in front of him. Besides, both of your lives are about to change. He’s going to California where babes grow on trees, and you’ll be deep diving in hot young doctors.”
The nasty taste of truth stains my tongue. I want to scream you’re wrong but I can’t because she’s not. The small piece of little girl who still lives inside wishes my best friend would go all teen movie and suddenly open his e
yes to what’s been right in front of him. Alas, life, no matter how much we want it to be, is not a John Hughes film.
Our future is sketchy, at best. We’ll be on opposite coasts, maybe visiting during the holidays and summers, but this world we’ve built is ending. No more summer nights spent sprawled out in the wheat field listening to Mazric make up names for constellations, while I correct with the right ones. No more evenings watching movies and no more Mazric climbing in my window to chase away his demons.
We can promise to stay in touch but obligations will pull us apart. He’ll be struggling to make a name for himself among fellow basketball stars, and I’ll be fast-tracking my path to a doctorate degree in biomedical engineering. Mazric will never know how much I’d like to tuck him in my pocket to make my transition easier. He’s been my rock for so long, and I want to see his dreams come true, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m terrified of the world I’m stepping in.
While I sulk in my avoided sad reality, Preslee types out a text message on her cell phone. A few minutes later the same device goes sailing through the air, accompanied by her shouting swear words that would make a sailor blush.
“Hendrix can’t leave school to attend prom. He spewed bullshit about being behind on his composition. I’m sorry I should’ve asked him before I said anything. But you can still be my date. You, me, and Joey can be a trio.”
“No, Pres. It’s fine. You and Joey go, spend one last romantic night enjoying the freedom of being a teenager.” I spy the clock on the wall. “Shit, I’m supposed to help Dad put in a rebuild. Can you drive me home?”
She snorts a laugh nodding her head. “Yeah, Joey and romance don’t walk hand in hand.” She nudges me out the door. As we search for her keys, she continues, “Promise me you’ll at least sleep on my idea? Joey won’t mind. Pleeeeaaase just think about it.”
