I nodded again, my eyes stinging. I wasn’t worthy of his forgiveness. ‘Yes. I promise. I’m sorry I let you down, Charles. And her.’
He patted my hand before gathering the papers. ‘I’ll admit I’m frequently wrong about women – but it seems to me that lying to avoid present hassle just to postpone it for later is a bad idea. Lies have a way of compounding the problem – or coming back to bite you in the nuts, as Caleb would say.’
We both chuckled. ‘I guess I agree with Caleb there.’
‘Yeah, he’s pretty smart now. Give him a year or two. Once puberty whacks him hard enough, it’ll flush half his brain cells right down the tube.’
I didn’t look at Jacqueline Monday when she entered class. I didn’t look at her, if I could help it, all during class. I didn’t look at her when Heller said, ‘Ms Wallace, please see me for just a moment after class.’
Benjamin Teague glanced over his shoulder at me, though. A moment later, leaning close to Jacqueline, his head inclined in my direction, asking a question. She shook her head, but didn’t turn round.
I continued sending her the worksheets, my emails limited to: New worksheet attached, LM. She didn’t reply; I didn’t expect her to. I didn’t watch her enter or exit class, except to note that Moore escorted her out, and followed her from the building as well. She didn’t look at me, and I couldn’t blame her.
I allowed myself a few unguarded assessments of her during class Wednesday and Friday. She paid full attention to the lectures – no fidgeting or glancing over her shoulder. Except for taking notes, her hands were still. She was like an enchanted being who’d suddenly found herself earthbound and bereft of her magical powers, when nothing could be further from the truth. She’d conjured love in the heart of a man whose soul had been frozen for years, anaesthetized by too much pain and guilt to bear.
Jacqueline and Erin went to Ellsworth’s line when it came time to practise kicks. I didn’t watch her, but I was tuned to her frequency. I could hear her voice above everyone, even when she was no louder than anyone else, yelling, ‘No!’ as she landed a knee strike or kick, or laughing with her friend.
When Watts announced a break, I couldn’t stop myself from finding her, drinking her in. She looked up and our eyes connected, and everyone else vanished. There was only Jacqueline, standing on the other side of the room, her eyes a cloudless sky and her face flushed pink from exertion. Catching sight of her in that moment was like glancing out a window and happening upon a sunset – inadvertent, breathtaking, never before and never again.
Erin took her arm and steered her out into the hall to the women’s locker room or the water fountain, and I shook myself from my stupor to help Ellsworth arrange the equipment for the next round of drills, and then we padded up.
‘Make sure you get that shit on tight,’ he reminded me. ‘Fairfield got nailed in the junk last fall after some sloppy padding up. We’re teaching these ladies not to hold back and they don’t. I don’t think he could stand for a full fifteen minutes, poor bastard. I laughed till I cried, of course.’
When called back to order, the women separated into two groups, prepared for the bear hug assault, which was just what it sounded like. Then Watts said, ‘Don, Lucas, let’s have you two switch off, mix up the attacker tactics.’
This landed Jacqueline in my line, as well as my department admin, who volunteered to help demonstrate the move – a series of possible defences against being grabbed in a full body hug. Little wonder Jacqueline looked freaked and ready to make a dash for the door. I felt no different. I would have my arms all the way round her, in front of everyone, within the next few minutes.
I explained the moves – head butt, shin scrape, instep stomp, elbow to the midsection, and the hands-down class favourite every time, the balls-grabbing-twisting-yanking lawnmower. Watts came over and used me to demonstrate. ’Reach back and grab the goods, twisting and pulling straight out like you’re startin’ a lawnmower.’
He ended with, ‘Vvvvrrroom!’ The women howled with laughter, and I bit my lip and probably reddened when Watts asked them to please dramatize that move without fully enacting it, to ensure Ellsworth and I remained capable of future fatherhood.
One by one, the six women in my line took turns facing the others while I came up behind them and grabbed all the way round, banding my arms and pinning theirs. They used whichever of the defences they wanted to use, most doing a facsimile of the lawnmower at the end, complete with sound effect. Jacqueline’s friend, Erin, performed every single defence, full throttle. I smiled, imagining her attacker on the ground begging her to run away. Her group cheered while she asked, completely serious, if she should kick him before running away.
I liked this girl.
Finally, it was Jacqueline’s turn. I knew that her nervousness was because of me, and I was determined that she not be at a disadvantage because of that. She needed to learn these moves. She needed to feel the power behind performing them. She needed faith in herself, and it was my job to give that to her.
When my arms surrounded her, she froze. Dammit. My fault, my fault, my fault.
‘Hit me, Jacqueline,’ I prompted softly. ‘Elbow.’
She obeyed.
‘Good. Foot stomp. Head butt.’ I led her quietly, and she followed. ‘Lawnmower.’ She did the move, without the sound effect employed by the others.
I released her and she stumbled towards her group, who were cheering as if she’d medalled in an Olympic event. Erin enveloped her in a protective embrace, and I decided she was the worthiest friend my girl could have.
My girl.
The front bear hug rendered me dumbstruck. Even with the padding and the audience and the objective behind the interaction, I looked into her eyes, inches away, and felt my desire for her like a kick to the gut. Luckily, my body went on autopilot to imitate a full-body frontal assault, and she did the defence moves without prompts, attuned to the voices of her group’s enthusiastically shouted directives and calls of encouragement.
One more week of economics classes.
One more self-defence module.
Over.
20
Landon
‘See, Standish, here’s the deal …’ Boyce sometimes sounded like a long-suffering parent, which in a way was just meaner. It made people think things weren’t as serious as they were. ‘You’ve gotten yourself into some deep shit, dude.’
I rolled my eyes, arms crossed over my chest, one hip braced against a chipped sink.
Eddie Standish faced Boyce but eyed me from the side without turning towards me, like a bird. The better to track where I was … without looking me in the eye. ‘I just need a little more time, you know?’
‘Ah,’ Boyce said, pursing his lips. ‘See, that’s the problem. Your time – it’s kinda run out.’
Standish blinked and his face went blotchy. Jesus, I hope he didn’t cry. I hated when they cried. ‘Run out? Whaddaya mean, run out? Y’all know me. Thompson knows me. Can’t I, like, have an extension?’ He turned away and ran both hands through his hair, tugging it – but when he turned back, it was like he’d put on a mask. ‘C’mon, Wynn. Don’t be a dick.’ A superior, better than thou, I’m about to get my ass handed to me mask.
Wynn looked at me. Is he doing what I think he’s doing?
I shrugged. Yeah, man.
A lowerclassman came through the bathroom door then, took one look at the three of us and backed straight out, eyes bulging.
Wynn angled his head and walked up to Standish. ‘So I’m the dick, eh? Not the guy who’s two hundred – is it two hundred, Maxfield?’
‘Yep.’
‘Two hundred bucks in debt for shit he traded for pussy.’ Boyce laughed, and Standish laughed, too. Idiot. ‘I could make a comment here about the fact that Maxfield and I don’t have to pay for pussy – ever. I could comment about how sad and pathetic it is that (a) you have to pay to get laid or that (b) doing so narrows the field to girls who’d do a guy for free shit in the first
place, but I won’t.’
Boyce stared at his feet, fingers on his chin, tapping – which meant he was about to turn philosophical. Fuck. I had a class to get to.
‘Now, I’ve got nothing against a girl who enjoys her body in the same manner I do mine, though there is a difference between bein’ a slut – like me – and bein’ a prostitute.’ Boyce peered back at Standish. ‘I don’t judge them. A girl’s gotta do – et cetera, et cetera. But guys like you – who only get it when you pay for it? That is just tragic. In a really humorous sort of way, when you want to turn round and call me a dick.’
There was a pause as Standish absorbed this. ‘I don’t really give those bitches any of my shit, man,’ he said, laughing nervously, like we were all tight. ‘I just tell ’em I’m gonna, then go ahead and fuck ’em. What are they gonna do? Cry rape? They’re addicts and whores.’ He looked between us, swallowing. ‘I – uh, I traded most of the shit for a carburettor.’
‘I really wish you hadn’t said that,’ I said, my voice low.
‘Standish, dude … First, tradin’ a substantial amount of shit for car parts? That’s dealing, dickwad. In Thompson’s territory.’ Boyce glanced at me. ‘And as for that other thing? You just fucked yourself, man. My friend Maxfield, here – he’s got issues with the r-word.’
I watched Standish think hard to remember what r-word he’d said. ‘B-but, you can’t rape a junkie whore –’
He didn’t finish his sentence. I didn’t really mean to knock a tooth out – that was a bonus. I meant to motivate him to get creative with getting Thompson his two hundred dollars, and I meant to make it so he couldn’t speak or eat normally for a month. Done and done.
He paid up the next day. Boyce heard he pawned his dad’s Rolex, and he lost twenty pounds he was already too scrawny to lose with the forced-liquid diet he was on for six weeks.
The hitch came from the fact that we were on school property when Standish acquired his motivation. Though we preferred to keep these confrontations off campus, he’d made himself scarce for days. But school was compulsory, and it’s not hard to find someone when the whole student body is less than two hundred bodies. We figured out his schedule and set up an ambush – Boyce slinging an arm round his shoulders, laughing and smiling like they were bros, while steering him into the out-of-the-way bathroom.
Standish’s unfortunate accident put us back on Ingram’s radar. We were called to her office out of shop. Boyce guessed the lowerclassman snitched, because he was pretty sure Standish would shit himself before he’d rat us out as the guys who messed him up.
‘Except for that Jekyll and Hyde act of his – maybe he is dumb enough,’ I said.
‘Who and hide what?’ Boyce frowned. ‘That’s a book, right? Never mind. Just deny.’
‘Agreed.’
We were installed in the same chairs we’d occupied two years ago, after the infamous hallway brawl no one ever admitted witnessing. Ingram narrowed unblinking eyes. ‘I find it interesting that you two were seen with Edward Standish just before he left this school with his front tooth in his hand, a bloody mouth, and years of expensive orthodontia destroyed.’
Boyce staged an impromptu coughing fit to hide laughter. If there was one thing Boyce Wynn couldn’t do well – aside from reading for comprehension – it was pretending he wasn’t laughing when he was laughing. I concentrated on maintaining a blank expression. She couldn’t expel us for beating the shit out of a guy who swore we had nothing to do with it, and strangely, her eyewitness also retracted his story. I was sure Boyce was behind that, but I didn’t ask.
We’d been out on the water for two hours before the girl in the red-and-white-striped bikini deigned to speak to me. She made me think of a hot little peppermint stick. Snobby, but hot. I wasn’t particular about attitude, though, because a cute girl on the boat was rare. It made for a better view for the day than miles of water, coastline and fish, if nothing else.
‘Guys who are, like, emo or goth or whatever at my school are a lot … paler than you. And less muscled up. I thought that anaemic look was part of the lifestyle. Or whatever.’
I squinted one eye to peer at her. She’d sidled up next to me as I prepared to bait the rod on the starboard side. We were trolling deep today.
‘Lifestyle?’ I chuckled. ‘I don’t really have time to establish a philosophy,’ sweetheart, I would have added, if she wasn’t a client’s daughter. ‘I just am what I am.’
‘And what’s that?’ She had a wicked gleam in her eye I hadn’t noticed in the first two hours of this trip. Then again, she’d spent that time working on a tan behind the dark sunglasses now perched on her head while trying to ignore her parents, who were trading veiled and not-so-veiled insults at the back of the boat.
A smile hitched my mouth on one side. ‘What do you want me to be?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘That line work on the girls around here?’
I ran the tip of my tongue over my lip ring and squatted down to snap open a bait bucket, a movement that exhibited those muscles she’d noted. ‘Yep.’
She arched a brow. ‘What else works on them?’
I looked over my shoulder, where my dad was at the wheel and wasn’t, at the moment, giving me the evil eye. ‘Why don’t I teach you how to bait this hook and hold this rod while we talk about that further?’ I looked over the top of my sunglasses at her. ‘If you really want the answer to that question, it might take a little while to itemize the data.’
As I stood, she moved in front of me, bracing her feet apart to ride the gulf’s undulations on deck. It was choppy out today and would have been better to go into the bay, but her dad wanted to fish in open water.
‘I know all about bad boys and lures and baitin’ hooks …’ She put both hands together on the railing, staring out at the water. But from my position over her shoulder, she’d just pressed a perfect swell of cleavage together, almost up and out of her tiny bikini top. Lures indeed. ‘… and holdin’ rods – what was your name again?’
‘Landon.’
‘Nice to meet you, Landon. I’m Chastity.’
I knew her name, having paid attention to her parents introducing themselves and her before we all set out on this excursion. Before it became obvious that her parents were going to spend the day at each other’s throats, hissing comments or ignoring each other. Hell, her mom had even flirted with my dad. Not that he paid her any mind.
‘Chastity.’
We heard the words know about and whore and jackass over the waves and gulls. My dad was making himself as scarce as possible, considering we were all stuck on thirty-two feet of boat. Chastity and I were trapped in the middle.
‘Parents having issues?’ I asked.
‘Dad and step-monster. And yeah. She’s accused him of gettin’ some on the side. Knowing my dad … it’s possible. Let’s not talk about them. They’re boring as hell and I want to have some fun on this stupid vacation. And, Landon, you look like fun to me.’ She manoeuvred round the rod, gripping it, and pressed her hip into me.
‘So, Chastity – is that an accurate designation or a misnomer?’
She laughed softly and leaned a shoulder into my chest, both hands sliding over the rod. ‘That’s for me to know, and –’
‘Oh, no worries. I fully intend to find out.’
‘Cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?’
I smiled down at her. ‘I prefer confident son of a bitch … but yeah. So what’d you say you’re doing tonight?’
‘Mmm, how ’bout you?’
Despite what I told Chastity about lines and local girls, I rarely screwed around with them. They wanted dates and school dances and relationships – and I couldn’t have been less interested. The vast majority of the girls I messed around with were here temporarily. I met them on the beach, or at the Bait & Tackle, or somewhere in town. We hooked up in their rental condos or hotel rooms or on the beach, if it was dark and they were willing.
Chastity was game to play – but not out in public, d
ark or not, and not anywhere near her parents. When I picked her up, she said she’d convinced them she’d run into some friends from her school in Fayetteville. ‘I told them they’d drop me off by midnight, after a fish fry and s’mores on the beach.’
I couldn’t believe they’d fallen for that.
‘Take me to your place,’ she urged, after we’d kissed and strolled around on the beach with a few dozen other people. ‘I can be real quiet. Promise.’
So I did something I never did – I snuck a girl into my house. It was only ten or so, but Dad was an early riser and went lights-out early, too. His room was down the hallway from my pantry. We meandered through the dark living room and into the kitchen, avoiding every squeaky board.
Once we made it into my room, I shut the door and she whispered, ‘Holy shit, this is tiny. Is this a … a pantry?’
I switched on a nightlight I’d stuck in the wall and turned off the overhead light. Kicked off my battered deck shoes next to hers.
‘You want to discuss my room, or …?’
‘I just thought everything was bigger in –’
I stripped off my T-shirt and her mouth fell open. I leaned to kiss her, drew her tank over her head and pulled the tie at her nape, unwrapping that peppermint bikini top and spilling her tits into my hands. She scooted back on to the bed and I followed.
‘You were saying?’ I said, and she shook her head, pulling me down on top of her.
We woke up around one a.m., which would have been bad enough on its own since she was an hour past curfew and had missed calls, voice mails and text messages out the ass on her phone – which she’d switched to silent.
But the reason we woke up was because of Dad. I have no idea why he decided to open the door to my room. If he’d done that before, I didn’t know about it. Maybe he was checking to see if I was home for some reason. But Christ, we were all wide-awake five seconds later.