Authors: Xavier Neal
“I don't know about good,” Carmen mumbles. She nods her head towards a parked red two door. “Especially with
that
sniffing around him like a fat kid and an apple pie.”
“Carmen!”
“Ava can't help herself from humpback whoring herself around when it comes to him,” she continues as if I hadn't said anything at all. “I
really
don't get why either.”
Instead of admitting that I don't as well, I grab my vibrating cellphone out of my bag.
Ry: What are you doing?
My heart stings. I wanna answer. I've answered randomly ever since we had the single slice of sweetness by the water fountain. It's hard not to.
The two of us get out of Carmen's latest toy her parents bought her and use the side gate to the basement where Blaze and his friends hang. It's gross. It's rarely clean, always smells like weed, cigarettes, and feet. They hang out down here day dreaming of rap star careers while dicking around recording their personal versions of radio hits, which typically include most of the original lyrics.
From the entry way, Ava, a girl with a large frame and an even larger attitude, is sitting in Blaze's lap. Jealousy should tear through me. I know this. Yet it doesn't. “Told ya.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Looks like you’ve got something in your lap.”
“Hey!” Ava squeaks and flips her bright red hair. “Didn’t see you there, Presley. I was just looking over some lyrics Blaze wrote. They’re really good.”
“I’m sure everything’s good from that angle,” Carmen says flopping down on the broken couch next to the one Blaze is on. “Except for her.”
Ava sneers, but stands up as she says, “Well boys I’m going to go. Come on, Lindsey.”
Her second in command untangles herself from Nathan, Blaze's best friend, and heads towards the door. She gives Carmen a dirty look who immediately flashes her the middle finger. Another war I'm in the middle of. Apparently, Blaze and his talentless friends had groupies who don't appreciate us storming in on their territory. So on one front I'm the victim and on another the aggressor. I hate getting out of bed more and more every day.
“Deuces,” Nathan says in his pathetic excuse for a thuggish tone. He reminds me of Eminem with no talent, less hotness, and the struggle of a suburban kid whose mom works two jobs to make sure he can flash the latest hot shoes. He's a joke. They're all a joke. Hell, who am I to judge at this point? So am I.
Refusing to sit on the couch that is home to way too many sexual exploits, I pull up a fold out chair next to Blaze. “Why was she on your lap?”
“Just trying to read my bad handwriting,” his nervous fidget lets me know it’s not the first time something like that has happened. Again not surprised. “Jealous?”
I don't answer.
“Hey,” Nathan snaps. “Less talking. More writing. We’ve got to win that talent thing.”
“But we just got here,” Carmen snips, looking up from her cell phone. “Can’t he have a sec to hang with his girlfriend?”
“No. Play time is over. Get back to work,” Nathan demands as he picks up a slice of cold pizza and his ringing cell phone.
“So it's only play time with the Pillsbury Dough Girl?” Carmen smirks. “Interesting.”
My phone vibrates again.
Ry: Busy?
“I could squeeze in a little play time for you,” Blaze whispers as he looks up at me, his brown eyes shimmering with something that makes my stomach groan in disgust. “I've got rubbers. Nay Cray's 'rents aren't home...”
“Ugh,” I growl my annoyance. “Glad that that’s most important to you.”
It is. It has been from the minute he kissed me. Apparently some girls just spread their legs open after a kiss for him to have sex with them. Even knowing I was a virgin didn't slow him down from trying to get in bed with me. Most he's gotten is a little over the pants action and some terrible kisses with too much tongue. It would be easier to go further if my disgust for him didn't lead me to disgust for myself.
I check my vibrating phone again.
Ry: You can’t be that busy because I know you’ve checked all my messages.
Before I can put the phone away it vibrates again.
Ry: And you know I'm waiting by the phone for all of yours.
A deep sigh comes from me. God, how does he get into my head like that?
“Who keeps texting you?” Blaze asks with unhappiness.
“Her better boyfriend,” Carmen jokes.
She doesn't know anything is going on between Ryder and me. She'd have my head on a stick and parade around the courtyard. Not because she doesn't think we're a good fit together, but it's all about the people watching. With the way we've waged war, to find out the enemies were discussing anything other than ways to obliterate each other, would be cause for an overthrow of a metaphorical crown I never asked for.
Suddenly Nathan hangs up and jumps to his feet. “That girl Mo’ who’s been on my jock is down at the court and wants us to meet her there. She’s got some hot little friends. Tiny titties but big ol' booties. You guys down?”
James and Eli, or J Club and E.I. as we're supposed to call them, mumble their approvals.
Nathan tosses his head. “Blaze?”
Blaze glances at me to see the stern look on my face and swallows an emotion. “Sure. But not for the girls. I wanna play ball.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Nathan brushes him off with a wink.
He opens his mouth to ask something when I shake my head. “Don't.”
“Hear me out.” To humor him I do. “Dinner?”
Knowing this routine, I ask, “Who's gonna pay? Me? Again? I'm tired of using all my tutoring money to afford our dates.”
“No I’ll pay. I’ll scrounge up some cash and-”
“You can’t,” Nathan buts in as he slides on his fake diamond watch he wears to impress chicks. “We’re going to record some tonight.”
Frustrated he stands and slides his hands in his pocket. “Tomorrow then?”
My phone vibrates and I check it.
Ry: Is your face doing that thing where you scrunch your nose to stop from smiling. I love it when you do that.
“Who is that?” Blaze snaps and reaches for my phone.
“Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Phone.” I harshly state and slide it in my back pocket. “And don't ask me that again. You have to earn the right for those answers.”
“But you're my girlfriend.”
“Maybe you should learn to act like it then.” I stand up. “What do you say, Carmen? Benny's Burgers?”
She hops up, “God yes. I can smoke on the patio and the bartender lets me drink for free.”
“Did Blaze treat you that way often?” Katherine asks, an intrigued look on her face.
“About 90 percent of the time. The other fraction, he was a completely different person. But like me, back then, it was all about what you were selling. The image you had created and the things you did to maintain it.”
“Life as an adult, isn't much different in that aspect. Quite often we create personas at work or in our social lives and then feed into them.” Her words whittle away the hope I had that I had grown out of doing those things. “It's human nature. However, where was the lie? Texting an ex-boyfriend isn't cheating.”
“No...it's not. But what I did that night was.”
My phone continues to vibrate across my bed lighting up with another text from Ryder. Caught up in the elation that comes from every word he types, I quickly check it.
Ry: I wanna see you.
I stare at the words I'm not sure I can resist.
Ry: I NEED to see you Pres.
Ry: Please.
My fingers twitch to touch the keys, but I fight against it.
Ry: I'm throwing myself at the mercy of the court your honor.
A giggle escapes me.
Ry: Please.
Reluctantly I reply.
Me: Where? You know I don't have a car. You try to pick me up and my brother might try to bash your face in.
Ry: I knew he hated me. Meet me at the park down the road from your house. The one where we had a picnic for our one month anniversary.
The reference causes me to coo at the memory.
Ry: 10 minutes.
Me: Okay.
A mad rush of mixed emotions has me out of my bed and in my full length mirror. Jeans and a sweater. Nothing special. Should it be special? Is this special? The confusion causes me to grunt as I quickly brush my hair into a high pony tail.
On my way for the front door, my father who's on the couch beside my mother watching some cop show, stops me. “Where are you going now?”
Knowing the fury and disgust they would express if I even mentioned Ryder's name in the house, a lie flops out of my lips effortlessly. “Tutoring session. Last minute. She only lives a block over.”
My father nods and my mother who is wrapped up in a book can't even bother to lift her head. Why would there be a need? I don't lie to my parents any more than I lie to my friends. There had never been a need before this very moment. They've always been so understanding and Carmen while pushy has too. Something inside of me knows they'll eventually forgive this little lie, as long as it's the only one. Carmen will deal with it like she always does. A tornado of cuss words and a pack of smokes.
Once I'm on the street I turn the corner and head down the road towards the park at the end of it. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Going to meet him like I’m some love sick puppy dog…which I know I am no matter how much I wish I wasn't. It's hard when you know your soul mate needs you. When you know there's a chance they're hurting as much as you are and you're the only one who can fix it. How does anyone say no to that? I arrive in the empty park with guilt on my conscience. I shouldn't be here. I should be...studying for my math test or watching re-runs of FRIENDS, anything but standing here in this parking lot waiting for him.
Just as my feet decide to follow my brain instead of my heart, Ryder pulls up, parks, and gets out. My eyes don't waste a minute slaving themselves to their favorite addiction. His jeans are my favorite light wash pair that hug his hips in the way if he lifts his arms you can see his boxers, which he does to give me a peak of his v cut. My mouth presses together as he pulls down his Mr. Happy shirt, the shirt I bought him last year for his birthday. Is this some sort of white flag or a red one?
Not knowing whether I'm being attacked or seduced causes me to fold my arms across my chest as I approach him. “Nice shirt.”
Ryder smirks widely, leaning against his car door. “Thanks. This really hot chick I know gave it to me for my birthday last year.”
“Really hot huh?”
“Super.” Ryder's body seems to be summoning mine telepathically. Instead of keeping my distance like I know I should, I'm within touching distance. Yet we're not. New Age warfare at its finest. “I love the fuck out of this shirt.”
“Love it? Those are big words. You sure about that?”
“Fucking positive,” the words make my heart melt for a moment. I swallow the knot of grief rapidly growing. “I'm sorry, Pres.”
The words sound so sincere, but I know better. I know so much better than to just fall to my knees over them.