“It’s okay,” said Cat. “I’m a friend of your dad’s.”
Her little face screwed in confusion. But when Cat wrapped her arms around the tiny body of the little girl who had the same slate-gray eyes as West, she accepted the hug from Cat. She smelled of alcohol and syrup.
With West tussling with his father, people began coming out of their houses now. They stared at the scene on the ground, whispering amongst themselves but not coming near to help.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” said Mr. York when West climbed off of him. The old man scrambled to his knees but didn’t try to get close to his granddaughter again.
Dinck buried her face in Cat’s chest. Cat rubbed at the back of the girl’s head. But her fingers never made it through all the tangles. Cat supposed her mother—was Emma the name Rose had said?—didn’t come around much.
“Walk it off,” said West as his father came to wobbly feet. “Come back sober or not at all.”
Mr. York slunk away from the house with his lumbering, listing steps. West watched the man go, disgust evident on his face. When his gaze met Cat’s, it darkened to shame.
“My daddy’s not a bad man,” said the little girl in Cat’s arms. “His behavior can be a little inconceivable. He lost his true love. So, he’s trapped in the Pit of Despair.”
Cat looked into her eyes, so like West’s. West had been in love with Emma? And he was still hurting from it?
“He’s going to break free one day though. He promised.”
“Dinck,” said West. “Time to go inside. I’ll come tuck you in in a second.”
“Will you read to me?” asked Dinck. Her tears were all dried up. She looked like any normal adolescent trying to wiggle their way out of bedtime.
“Course I will, you little R.O.U.S.”
Dinck grinned. Her face transformed into utter delight, as though the horrible scene had never happened. She gave Cat another hug and patted her cheek. “Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”
Then she darted up the stairs and disappeared into the house. The neighbors all vanished as well, now that the show was over. It was just Cat and West outside.
West turned from Cat and bent over to the glass bottles on the ground.
“What can I do?” Cat approached him gingerly. “Let me help.”
He didn’t answer. He carried the empty bottles to the trash bin at the edge of the drive.
“I’ve never babysat before. But it could go on the list. I’m sure it’s hard for you and your daughter—”
West’s body went rigid. He whirled around to face her. “You think Dinck’s my daughter?”
“I…well… Rose said you got Emma Day pregnant. So, I just assumed—”
“Right. You just assumed.” His laugh was harsh and humorless. “You're just like everybody else. No one bothers to actually ask me.”
“Is she your daughter?”
“No. She’s my baby sister. I’ve been taking care of her ever since my mother overdosed on drugs.”
“Oh my God. West, I didn’t know.”
“But you heard the rumors, didn’t you? And you believed them before you even got to know me.”
“Wait a minute. That’s not fair. I may have believed some of the rumors about you, but I never judged you. I tried to get to know you. Even though I may have had some facts wrong, I like the man I’ve come to know.”
“This isn’t some fairytale, Cat. I’m not a hero.”
“You are to her.” Cat pointed to where Dinck had disappeared into the house. “You are to me.”
West shook his head. “My mother named all of her children after heroes and villains, because she said there was a little good and a little bad in everybody and she never wanted us to forget it. But all people see in me is the bad.”
“Not me.”
“My mother had a small stash of drugs in the house when the police came knocking one day. I told the old Sherriff it was mine. The funny thing is, he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t an angel back then, but drugs were a line I never crossed, and he knew that. He tossed me in a jail cell for a couple of days, thinking I would come clean. I didn’t.”
“But it wasn’t your fault,” Cat said.
“If I didn’t take the blame, then my baby sister would’ve been born in jail. Dinck would already be born an addict, I figured the least I could do was have her be born in a hospital and not a jail cell. Anyway, I took a plea deal and got seven years’ probation.”
“West, I’m so sorry.”
“You know Westley, my namesake, becomes a pirate in the story. That’s how he wins against Prince Humperdinck. That’s the moral to the story; the poor farm boy does not get the girl. The Dread Pirate Roberts does.”
Cat cocked her head to the side, unsure how she lost the thread of the conversation. “I have no idea what book you’re talking about.”
“The Princess Bride.”
Cat gave a shake of her head, waiting for more clarification.
“Are you serious? It’s one of the most popular romance movies of all time.”
Cat shrugged, but the motion didn’t shake off her ignorance.
West put his hands on his hips as he regarded her, clearly flustered with her lack of understanding. “How do you not know this story? Every girl knows this story.”
“I told you I don’t get out much, and that includes to the movies.”
“Doesn’t matter.” West pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “The point is, my world is messy.”
He moved his hand away and regarded her. His regard was more of a glare. Like he was angry. But Cat would swear that his anger wasn’t directed at her. It was directed at himself.
“You don’t belong in my world, Cat. I don’t want you in it.”
It was worse than a slap to the face. She felt the sting in her heart.
“I don’t have the luxury to live my life according to a list,” he continued. “I gotta take what life gives me, and it rarely gives me the good stuff to deal with. I don’t get to pick my experiences. I deal with the consequences.”
With those final words, West turned on his heel. He jogged up the steps, entered his home, and closed the door. Cat was left standing, alone, on the street. She felt dizzy from the whiplash of emotions she’d experienced. She was weary from her racing heart. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep until this nightmare turned back into the dream it had nearly been.
14
West
West’s body was tense as he watched her drive away. His molars ground. His fists clenched. He needed to scream. To punch something. Anything to keep from calling out to Cat or running after her.
More than anything, he wanted to be a part of her list, to be on her list. But he wasn’t that selfish, despite what people thought of him. Already Cat would be associated with him for a few days now that she’d been caught up in that scene outside with his father.
It had been dark outside when it had happened. Luckily, no one had called the cops. 911 wasn’t on speed dial in this part of the town. Cops typically came uninvited and unwanted. Thankfully, no squad car had driven by tonight.
He watched as Cat’s tail lights disappeared down the street. The glistening tears that had been in her eyes as he told her to get out of his life would haunt his dreams forever.
“Is she coming back?” asked Dinck as he came inside.
West knew his sister was talking about Cat. Dinck didn’t take to a lot of people. None of them did. Another thing the social worker had cautioned about kids born addicted. They had attachment, as well as abandonment, issues.
“No,” said West. “She’s gone home.”
“I liked her. She smelled nice, and she gave good hugs.”
West picked up Dinck’s small body. She was little for her age. They all had been with a mother who was an addict. Gloria’s own children hadn’t been important enough for her to give up her first love. But not one of her kids ever did a single drug once they were weaned from the toxicity of her
body. That was sad. A helpless newborn had more willpower than a full-grown adult.
“Will you invite her over again?” said Dinck as West carried her down the hall to her room.
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend.”
“Cat’s not my girlfriend.” West opened the door to Dinck’s small room. He knew it was a pointless gesture to place her in her bed. Dinck would wind up in his room, stealing his covers, by the crack of dawn.
Zik had been the same way when he was small. West had had no choice but to learn to sleep on his own. Still, none of them had ever managed the feat of sleeping all the way through the night without waking up.
“You drove her home,” Dinck was saying as he pulled her sheets up and around her small body. “That’s what boyfriends do for their girlfriends.”
“This isn’t her home.”
But Dinck was already ignoring him and making up a story all her own. It fascinated West that even though she was named after one of the most well-known heroines of all time, she preferred to use a nickname from her villainous middle name.
“You didn’t get to kiss her good night though,” said Dinck, working out her seven-year-old logic. “You should go and do that to end the date properly.”
West knew that this was a coping technique. Before Dinck was born, he and Zik would often hide out in a closet and play card games while their parents went after each other. When the dust settled, the boys would sit at the dinner table and eat their canned or microwave dinners as though nothing had happened.
“Oh,” Dinck continued. “What if it was better than one of the three great kisses?
In the story of The Princess Bride, there is a legend that there were three great kisses in the world. The narrator tells readers, and viewers, that Buttercup and Westley’s kiss blew them all away. West knew that if ever his lips were to touch Cat’s it would easily slip into the number one spot. Too bad it would never happen.
“I don’t have time for a girlfriend,” West said. “You’re my number one priority.”
“I want you to be happy. True love is the greatest thing in all the world.”
“Except for a nice MLT…”
“‘A mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich when the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe.” They finished together.
Dinck giggled, and West laughed at the Miracle Max quote. There were times he hated the whole story of a poor boy winning the love of a princess. It was made up. It would never happen in real life.
Cat had never even heard of the story. But she did know some of his past, and what she did know, she’d accepted. Didn’t change the fact that he would never be good enough for her with his reputation.
“Is she the kind of girl you’d take your mask and hood off for?” asked Dinck. “You know, to stop pretending you're the Dread Pirate Roberts and show her you’re the farm boy she fell in love with, like in the story.”
West had no answer for that. He wasn’t pretending he was the pirate; he was. Wasn’t he?
“You spend too much time playing the pirate, West. I think she’s your Buttercup. She smelled like a Buttercup. Like cotton candy.”
West knew that the only way to get his sister to hush and settle down was to read her favorite story. He pulled open the well-worn copy of S. Morgenstern’s original edition of The Princess Bride. He left the William Goldman’s snappier version on the table in favor of the older, unabridged version which was filled with asides and lists and long descriptions. Before the end of the chapter, Dinck was out.
“She’s right, you know?”
West looked over to the open door where his brother leaned against the wall.
“You’ve always played the bad guy, but you have zero real street cred,” Zik continued. “Your one real crime was simply you covering up for Mom by claiming those drugs were yours. Mom did the crime, and you’re still here doing her time.”
“If I hadn’t, Dinck would’ve been born in jail.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. We both know you’re a good guy.”
They weren't the only ones. Another person had believed he was good beneath his mask. Cat had seen the real West. And as a thank you, he’d crossed himself off her list.
15
Cat
The front door snicking closed behind her was the last moment of silence of Cat’s night.
“Where have you been?” demanded her father. “Your mother has been worried sick.”
Cat’s father didn’t express his feelings well. He was used to rules and regulations. He needed things in black and white. When there were shades of gray, like feelings, he put those on his wife. To have him tell it, Silvina Garcia was constantly in a state of worry.
“Are you all right, Cat?” asked her mother, her voice calm as ever. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“I’m fine,” said Cat. “I was just out with a friend.”
The two looked at each other as though she’d spoken another language. To be honest, Cat wasn’t sure if West wanted to be her friend any longer. Twice today, he’d nearly kissed her. She’d watched enough telenovelas to know the signs.
He’d stared at her lips. He’d bit at his bottom lip. Time had stopped, and it had been only the two of them. But each time, he’d pulled back at the last second.
By soap opera logic, that was a great tension builder. In reality, it sucked harder than a lemon. It was like having a warm dessert come out of the oven, only to then shove it into the freezer.
“What friend?” asked her mother. “Ilyana is in treatment, and Alexia is in Raleigh meeting with a specialist.”
Nearly all of Cat’s friends were currently undergoing treatment. Only two others were in remission. And John and Alice were both off living lives like there was no tomorrow. Because for a long time, the next day wasn’t promised to them. It was never really promised to any of them.
“You don’t have any other friends,” said her father. Juan Carlos Garcia turned to his wife. “Does she?”
“Of course, she does,” said Silvina.
“No,” said Cat. “I don’t. All of my friends are dead or dying. I went out and made some new friends yesterday. Friends who are full of life. Friends who are showing me what it means to be alive. That life is sometimes messy and uncertain.”
Her parents glanced at each other uncertainly. Cat went to them. She wrapped her right arm across her mother’s warm heart and her left arm around her father’s strong chest. With a tug, she pulled them in for a hug. Cat knew she’d hit the lottery with these two. But Dios Mio they could be overbearing sometimes.
“Should we call the doctor?” her father said over her head.
“I think she’s just hungry,” said her mother.
“I’m fine,” said Cat, still snuggling into the warmth of her parents. “I just had a long day. A long, exciting, upsetting, amazing day.” She pulled back and stared into their caring and concerned faces. “I’m really lucky I have you guys as parents. You’ve always been there for me. But…”
Cat dropped her arms and stepped out of their warm embrace.
“But you’re gonna have to back off a bit.” She held up her hands when they protested. “Not entirely. Just a few steps back to let me fall if necessary.”
“We’d never let you fall,” said Juan Carlos. “It would devastate your mother.”
Cat couldn’t help but smile at her father. “You do know that I beat cancer twice. You think a bruised knee is gonna keep me down?”
“Did you bruise your knee?” Silvina turned on her heel. “I’ll make you some soup.”
Cat was about to argue that soup wasn’t going to fix the small bump on her knee from when she’d been on the ground with Dinck. But her stomach grumbled, shutting off that avenue of protest.
“Okay, Mami. I’ll have some soup. Papi, you’re going to need to take the car to the shop. There was a minor fender bender.”
“You had an accident?” asked her father.
“Not with another
person,” Cat clarified. “Just a curb. It’s making a weird rumbling sound. But I’m fine. I’m better. I’m stronger for it.”
Juan Carlos took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You are a strong, capable woman, Catalina. It’s just that your mother worries.”
“I know.” Cat rested her head against her father’s barrel chest again. He wrapped her up in his arms like he did when she was a little girl. In fact, her father had always been game to hug his daughter, no matter her age. “I also know I can always count on both of you.”
Cat gave her dad another long squeeze. She wished she could bring Dinck here to experience her dad’s hugs or her mom’s soup. She wanted to bring West over to meet her parents. But right now, she wasn’t sure he would even talk to her.
Men and their emotions. She knew West had been embarrassed by the actions of his dad, but she also knew children weren’t responsible for the actions of their parents.
West would have to get over it. Because Cat had no intention of staying away from him. She thought it would be best to give him a day to cool off. Problem was, she might not have many days left.
First thing in the morning, she’d march back over to his house. With a bowl of soup and a big hug for Dinck. Then she’d open her arms to Dinck’s big brother.
With a steaming bowl of soup in one hand and a spoon in the other, Cat closed her bedroom door behind her. She kicked off her shoes, settled on her bed, and picked up the remote control to the television she rarely used.
“Alexa,” she called out, “play The Prince Bride.”
“Sorry,” came the electronic voice. “I don’t recognize The Prince Bride.”
“It’s called The Princess Bride,” came a male voice that wasn’t her Alexa device.
Cat was thankful she’d set the soup on her side table. Otherwise, she’d have had third-degree burns all over her legs. She turned to her window to see West leaning on the windowsill. “What are you doing?”
Loving the Bad Boy Page 7
