Bottom Feeder (15 page)

That’s enough feeling
sorry for yourself. Suck it up. Shake it off.

I open my eyes and sneak a glance at
him. My eyes linger on his lips. I try for another mental pep talk.
Nope. I got nothing. “There’s plenty of room for me to teach you.
You ready?”

“
You know what?” Jackson
scans the room. “Yeah.”

Jackson

“
Follow whatever I do,”
Maddy says as we make our way to the center of the room.

The music speeds up to an intricate,
fast-paced tempo. Maddy moves skillfully, hitting each strike of
the complicated beats with her feet and hips. She spins to see if
I’m following.

“
Thought you couldn’t
dance.”

I shrug. “I lie sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes and spins around
again. I loosen up and move closer, placing my hands on her waist.
She freezes for a moment and continues dancing without looking
back. The song fades to the next.

Since I’ve been a little weirded out
for the last half hour, and Maddy seems to be my dose of
anti-depressant, I gently tighten my grip before she tries to pull
away.

Our bodies touch, sending a bizarre
rush through my veins. Our movements cause the bottom of her shirt
to raise a little, and my fingers brush against bare skin. No one
and nothing matters as I rest my cheek on hers. Maddy closes her
eyes and leans her head against my chest. The feeling of being next
to her is damn near euphoric.

Something tells me this is the way it
should be. She is where I belong.

I back away when the song ends.
“Thanks for the lesson,” I murmur. We make our way back to the
sofa. “And, uh, thanks for the . . . you know, with
Libby.”

“
Don’t mention
it.”

“
And Laney.”

“
Really, Jackson, don’t
mention it. You’re not the first.” She closes her eyes and rests
her head on the back of the couch.

“
Say what?”

Maddy opens her eyes and looks at me.
Her eyes never move, but I know she is studying me. I let
her.

“
Anyone I
know?”

I follow her eyes to a guy with long,
white-tipped black hair sitting on the stairs. Sitting on the stair
below him is Dixon. “No way.”

“
Everyone knows about
Dixon and Laney. He was her trial-and-error for Sift and Snatch.
It’s not a big secret.”

Great. There’s a name for Laney’s
game. “Who else?”

“
I’m not in the business
of divulging secrets.”

Maddy

I know. It’s weird that I reclaim
personal belongings from Laney’s sexual feats. I should let the
guys get their own crap, right?

I’m going to tell you something that I
would never admit out loud. I do not like Laney one bit. Her
personality is the consistency of dirty dishwater: nice and sudsy
on top, greasy on the next layer and filthy right down to the
bottom.

I don’t like games and
hers particularly irritates me. She acts butt-hurt when no one
wants to put up with her antics. More times than not she goes for
guys who are in relationships. I
do
not
help them.

Daddy cheated on Mama plenty of times
before she died. She knew, and although I was just a kid, I was
aware of everything.

She was in so much pain from his
deception, his infidelities. Still she stayed. From what I know now
she probably did not have much of a choice. I remember hearing
quiet sobs muffled through her bedroom door. As awful as it sounds
she probably welcomed her death. God she was so miserable. Daddy’s
way of consolation was to indulge her with jewelry and material
things Mama never wanted.

One of the many lessons I learned from
Grace Carrington is that material possessions do not amount to
someone’s worth. Handmade dresses worth thousands and seventy
thousand dollar cars will never make me happy.

I am broken from my
too-serious-for-any-party thoughts when the DJ spins an old school
hip hop mix. You can’t exactly sulk when Run DMC is telling you
it's tricky to rock a rhyme that's right on time.

Someone jumps over the back of the
couch.

“
Dude, do you
hear
that? Find me
somebody to dance with!” He clutches Jackson’s shoulders, shaking
them like it’s an urgent matter. I stand to make my way to the
center of the floor.

“
Maddy, wait.” Jackson
grabs my hand. “Dance with Lamont?”

Great. Someone else my presence is
being forced upon.

He yells by Lamont’s ear, “This is
Maddy Carrington.”

Lamont turns and narrows his eyes.
“Damn.”

My heart crashes to the pit of my
stomach. I don’t know this guy and he’s already passing judgment? I
turn my head away so whatever emotion is written on my face is
hidden.

Jackson’s hand is replaced
by Lamont’s. The pounding of the music makes me forget that I
should pull away from this guy and tell him where he can go and
what he can do with his crap attitude. Okay, so I wouldn’t really
tell him that. I’m
totally
thinking it.

The floor is crammed with enthusiastic
people trying to start a dance off. Heat radiates from the close
proximity of bodies, making the room seem small and
claustrophobic.

A pair of hands wrap around my waist
from behind. The bruises will have bruises by tomorrow morning if I
don’t leave this party soon. I turn my head and am face-to-face
with a grin that has surely caused better women to swoon. Lamont
bends to my ear, “JB might not want to be seen with you because
you’re not his type, but I think you’re sexy as hell and will take
his place any time.”

“
I bet you say that to all
the girls,” I reply. “Such a charmer.”

“
Damn right, I
am.”

Good to know. Seriously,
can a girl catch a break today? I never knew it was possible to pay
a compliment and insult someone in the same sentence. That is
either a trademarked skill or an intense case of douche baggery.
Yes,
baggery
is a
word. In my dictionary anyway.

I continue dancing. If there’s one
thing I have learned in my deranged life, it is to never let anyone
see you hurting. Ever. Pain is a useless emotion. It helps nothing,
it fuels everything.

But Lamont’s words seep into me like
hundreds of tiny bees stinging inside my chest.

I glance up to see Jackson scanning
the room. Our eyes lock. He begins to stand. Janelle Briston, our
class Salutatorian, sits on his lap.

Being here tonight and seeing him with
Janelle is my reminder of why my crush on him is unnecessary and
pathetic. Not to mention he was with Laney only a few hours ago. No
need for a pep talk. It is officially time to leave.

Since Dixon is finally talking to
Matt, my only other option is to walk halfway to Savannah and call
a taxi since none of the companies will come this far out for less
than $100.

“
Finally,” I look up to
see Chris smile and take my hand. “Let’s serve it up.”

“
Actually, I’m wondering
if you could ta—”

Behind me, Lamont yells a string of
alcohol-induced profanities. I turn around, wincing from the pain
in my ribs, just in time to see Lamont’s fist en route to Chris’s
head. Chris ducks, pulls me to the side and plants his right fist
on Lamont’s face. Lamont stumbles and falls to the
floor.

Chris apologizes to me and
stands over Lamont.
“You are not over
there anymore, you psychotic son of a bitch!”
He snatches a beer from Tommy Crenshaw’s hand before storming
out of the room.

Lamont doesn’t answer. He can’t. He’s
out cold. The crowd does not seem to care that someone is lying
motionless behind them. I look to Jackson for help, but Janelle is
straddled on his lap. Okay then.

I cradle Lamont’s head. “Lamont?” He
groans. “Lamont, open your eyes.” Another groan. Freakin’-A! Ugh.
“Dude, we’re going to be trampled.”

His eyes flutter open. Glazed, not
dilated. Good. No concussion.

“
I like you,” he
smiles.

I roll my eyes. “And you’re
drunk.”

“
Yuh-huh,” he
nods.

I wrap his arm around my
neck and lock my hands around his waist. “When I count to three,
lean your weight on me and push yourself up. One . . . two . .
.
three
!”

With another grunt, he stands.
Outside, Lamont stops me from unraveling our arms.

“
Take me home?” he asks
with a hint of sadness.

“
I didn’t
drive.”

“
Can you drive a
stick?”

“
Like a pro. Does Jackson
have a ride home?” I may be hurt, but Jackson still needs to get
home.

“
I think he’ll be occupied
for the rest of the night.”

I lead Lamont to the edge of the yard,
stopping at Dixon’s Bronco to grab my purse. During the time it
takes us to walk the half mile to his car Lamont slurs through a
couple of horrifying war stories in a country rarely mentioned in
the news. I remain quiet, allowing him to release his frustration,
bitterness, and anger. Sometimes it’s best to just let someone talk
about everything bottled up inside. No questions. No
judgment.

Lamont’s arms have been squeezed so
tightly around my waist that by the time we reach the car the
bruises throb like each have their own erratic pulse. I guide him
on the passenger seat. His body slumps left. I straighten him. His
body slumps right. I straighten him again, shutting the door
quickly so he doesn’t fall out.

“
Maddy, wait!” Jackson is
kicking up dust down the dirt driveway with Janelle trailing
behind, a stiletto in each hand.

“
You want to drive him?” I
ask.

“
I’m not drunk, but I’ve
been drinking. I can’t risk a DUI. Oh, and I don’t have my license
with me.”

“
JayyyyyBeeeee,” Janelle
whines when she catches up, “Now my feet are all
dirty
.” Is her bottom
lip poking out?

I reach in my purse and pull out the
pack of wet wipes I keep handy.

“
Thaaaaaanks,
Maddy!
Ohmahgah
you’re the
best
ever
!” Janelle is one of the smartest,
sweetest girls I know, but she is pretending to be drunk to cover
her actions. I’ve been around the real thing enough to know a fake
drunk when I hear and see it.

I’m not sure if I should be repulsed
or impressed at the thought process behind her tactic.

“
I don’t mind taking
him.”

“
He’s staying in a hotel
on Tybee. I’ll show you.” Janelle takes Jackson’s hand. He sighs
and opens the back door for her.

“
Fix your face and hide
your crazy, Madelyn Faith,” Mama used to say. “Don’t let them see
you upset. No one deserves that type of control over
you.”

I take a deep breath, let it out
slowly.

I adjust the rearview mirror. Jackson
meets my eyes in the mirror just as I spot Janelle nibbling on his
earlobe.

I divert my attention to the
road.

Lamont turns to the makeout session.
“Didn’t you have a date with Maddy last night?”

I glance in the mirror to horror
spreading across Jackson’s face.

Janelle squeals. “You went
on a date with
JB
, Maddy? That’s
so
cute!”

Pushing in the clutch and gearing up
to fifth, I increase the speed of the Galant and pray there are no
cops in sight.

“
Thanks, Maddy. I owe you
one.” Jackson’s eyes do not meet mine as he helps Janelle out of
the car.

“
No. You don’t.” I’m too
tired not to look disappointed. “Friends help friends,
right?”

“
Friends,” Jackson repeats
quietly, more to himself than me. He pulls Lamont from the car and
half-carries, half-drags him to the front of the hotel.

“
Thanks for driving,”
Janelle says and wraps her arms around my shoulders.

“
You want me to stay?” I
whisper.

She shakes her head. “I’ll be
okay.”

“
Call me if you need
anything, okay? I promise I’ll be here in no time.”

“
I don’t like Jackson,”
she murmurs. “I wanted Lamont to notice me.”

I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure she
could have just talked him.

“
Friends,” he says again.
His brow furrows. “How will you get home?”

“
Dixon,” I lie.

“
Okay, good.” He smiles. I
return the smile. It might be a grimace. I’m not sure.

Once everyone is inside, I tighten up
my Vans and curse myself for attempting to jog in an underwire
bra.

“
You’re walking, aren’t
you?”