Coercion (13 page)

“Yes, I’m patrolling the whole town, looking for the cream of the crop.” He cleared his throat. “But I decided to take a break and ask you if you’re doing anything tonight.” He turned to look at her, his cheek resting against the snow. “I know it’s last minute and everything, but I just got back in town today.” He rolled his eyes. “Driving eight hours to visit my grandparents and sitting between the twins is probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, so I hope you feel sorry enough for me that you consent to hanging out.”

Valerie frowned, her mood dropping at the thought of her evening plans. “I’m already doing something.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Daniel’s forehead creased, but his tone remained light. “So, who’s the lucky devil who gets the privilege of spending New Year’s Eve with Valerie Mercer?”

“Shannon’s dragging me to some party with her boyfriend.”

Daniel tossed a handful of snow her way. “Don’t tell me you’re spending New Year’s as a third wheel.”

The shock of Daniel’s playful words stung Valerie’s heart. “I’m always a third wheel.”

“Well, you deserve to be something better than that.”

She sat up abruptly and readjusted her cap. “No, I don’t.” She pushed herself up, taking the shovel with her, and dusted the snow off her pants. “I should probably get back to shoveling.”

“Val,” Daniel said softly as he stood. “I was only kidding.”

“I know. Don’t worry.” She chipped at a stubborn chunk of ice in the driveway with the edge of the shovel. “I just need to get back to work.”

Daniel studied her with worried eyes. His mouth opened several times as if to say something, but before he could speak, her mother cracked open the front door. “Valerie, phone’s for you.”

Valerie gave Daniel a shrug. “I have to go.”

He nodded with a frown. “It looks that way.” He gave her a halfhearted wave. “See you later.” He shuffled back to his brown, battered car parked across the street.

Valerie hurried into the house, clumps of snow spotting the carpet in her wake. Though she regretted how she’d just treated Daniel, her emotions soon bloomed into a sick hope as she ran through a small list of potential callers. She reached the conclusion, as she did every time the phone rang, that too much time had passed for Michael
not
to finally call after what happened between them, and she picked up the receiver in the living room. “Hello?” she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Sweetie, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

Valerie’s legs gave out and she sank onto the couch like it was quicksand. “Hi, Aunt Linda.”

“Your mother was just telling me how you’re still exercising and sticking to the diet we whipped up for you.”

Tears burned Valerie’s eyes, and she willed them not to fall as she rested her head against the back of the sofa. “Yeah, it really works.”

“I told you it would. Now all you need to do is visit me in California. You’ll fit right in with all the other gorgeous, skinny girls here.”

“That would be fun.” Valerie pressed a hand to her closed eyelids, flattening her wet eyelashes against her palm.

“Of course, getting you here might be hard to do, what with the boys being all over you these days.”

“They’re not,” Valerie blurted, her breath coming out in hiccups.

“Valerie?” Her aunt’s voice filled with worry. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her question met with silence, and she added, “You can tell me.”

“No, I can’t.” Valerie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Linda, but I have to go.” She quickly replaced the receiver, wishing to feel better, but she felt worse as she realized she’d just hung up on her aunt, who only wanted to help her. She covered her face with her hands and leaned forward, her body shaking as she cried the tears she’d been holding back for weeks.

She’d told herself all that had happened couldn’t have been real, that she was imagining things, that she was somehow overlooking a vital piece of information and jumping to conclusions. But now, she thought about all the times she’d called Michael since their tryst in his truck, all the rumors she’d heard about him and Breeze getting back together and all the times he’d looked right through her. She thought about all that and hated herself. She knew the only piece of vital information she’d overlooked was that she’d been a fool.

* * * *

“Look, baby.” Breeze gave the stovetop’s knob a twist and hovered a spatula over a pan. The flame rose from beneath the metal coils, providing a small source of light in the Vartanians’ dark kitchen, which had the faint odor of years of burnt dinners. “I’m cooking.”

“What, your brain?” Michael looked over her shoulder. “Are you roasting a spatula?”

Breeze erupted into a fit of giggling. “No, I’m melting plastic. I’m going to make you little army men. Consider them my gift to you now that we’ve agreed to sort of start seeing each other again.”

“I immediately regret that decision.” Michael pried the spatula from her grasp and turned off the stovetop.

“Michael!” Breeze slid her arms around his waist and moved her hands into the back pockets of his jeans. In the dim light coming from the refrigerator, which Rooney was rummaging through, Michael watched as Breeze batted her eyelashes at him. “Are you going to be this cranky all night?”

“It depends. Am I going to be fielding phone calls from Marie Bacall’s psycho father anymore?”

Breeze gave Michael a playful slap on his ass. “You should be happy. I put an end to my fling with him and chose you instead. Can you blame the guy for being a bit upset? After all, he lost me, the only light in his life.”

“I’m surprised he’s not shouting with joy from every rooftop.”

“Shut up.” Breeze punched his arm. “There’s this thing called compassion. You should try showing some.”

“How does that lunatic even know my phone number?”

“Baby, your dad’s a preacher. It’s easy enough to look up. Just relax.”

“I can’t, okay?” Michael pushed Breeze away from him. “Because you were slutting it up around town, I’ve got some poor bastard calling me up, threatening me and crying about how much he loves you and how much you ruined his life.”

Breeze shrugged as she reached past Rooney and pulled a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. “Don’t you know you gotta take the bad with the good?”

“Of course I know that.” Anticipating her imminent request, Michael snatched the wine from Breeze and rummaged through a drawer for a corkscrew. “That’s been the motto of our relationship for years.”

Rooney let out a triumphant cry, silencing Breeze’s protest. “Found it!” He held up an Italian hoagie wrapped in white paper.

“How long has that been in there?” Michael asked, twisting the screw into the cork.

“Long enough to make me worry your dad got to it first.” Rooney closed the refrigerator door with the toe of his sneaker. “Where is the old man anyway?”

Michael tugged the screw upward, freeing the cork from the bottleneck with a soft
pop
. “Probably upstairs in bed.”

“But it’s only ten o’clock!” Breeze shrieked, grabbing the wine from Michael and taking a swig. “That poor guy. He must be so depressed and lonely. Let’s go cheer him up. Rooney, you bring the bong.”

Michael clamped his hands on Breeze’s shoulders, spun her around and led her out the front door. “Too late, we’re leaving.”

“Finally!” Breeze skipped out the front door with a childlike burst of enthusiasm while waving the bottle of wine overhead like a trophy. She leaped through the snow in the front yard, mimicking an astronaut on the moon, and made her way toward Michael’s truck.

Rooney followed Michael out of the house and stood on the front porch as Michael locked the door behind them. He tucked a bottle of Jim Beam in one of his gloves and peeled back a part of the hoagie’s wrapper. “She’s easy to distract, isn’t she?”

“You’re more than right about that.” Michael looked at Breeze, who had climbed into the truck. “She’s lucky.”

Rooney’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he took a bite of his hoagie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Michael shook his head as if shaking off a spell. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“Oh my God! Michael!” Breeze’s scream echoed through the quiet neighborhood, which, despite it being New Year’s Eve, had been put to sleep by a blanket of snow. The only sign of life on Beeker Street was the German shepherd next door, which was tied to a post in the middle of its front lawn and trying to eat the snowflakes out of the air.

“What is it, Breeze?” Michael’s tone lacked any trace of interest.

Breeze cranked down the truck window and stuck her head out. “Baby, you won’t believe this! Someone stole the steering wheel!”

Michael rolled his eyes as he and Rooney stomped across the snowy lawn toward the truck. “No, you’re just drunk and sitting on the passenger side.”

“Oh.” Breeze breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the headrest. “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to hunt down and kill whoever took it.”

“Thanks for your concern.”

“Now that we’ve established the steering wheel is in its rightful place, can we go to this party?” Rooney stamped his feet in the snow while he took a bite of his hoagie and washed it down with a swig of whiskey. “I’m freaking freezing.”

“That’s right, we should go.” Breeze rested her head against the window frame. “Rooney does enjoy a good party.”

“After all, that’s why I go to college,” Rooney said. “Now let’s move out! Tonight, we all have a date with a lady named Fun.”

“I wish my name was Fun.” Breeze pouted and reached for the bottle of wine she was warming between her thighs.

Rooney watched Breeze put the mouth of the bottle to her lips and take a drink. “And I wish I still got ridiculous when I smoked.”

“I’m glad you don’t,” Michael muttered.

“Hey.” Rooney recoiled from Michael and raised his hands in the air as a form of surrender, still clutching the sandwich and the bottle of whiskey. “I’m getting a sense of hostility coming from you, man.”

“What do you expect? I wanted one night out of the year to relax and enjoy myself, and of course I wind up being the driver again.”

“Baby,” Breeze cooed, her lips wet with wine. “Stop whining. You relax and enjoy yourself every night.”

“With you around? Not a chance.”

“Don’t worry.” She reached out the window for his hand in vain. “Maybe 1975 will be your year.”

“Thanks. That really means a lot coming from you.”

“Don’t sweat it, man. I’ll drive, just give me the keys.” Rooney wiggled his fingers, palm up, as he headed for the driver’s side.

Michael grabbed the back of Rooney’s coat, halting his friend. “You’re not getting behind the wheel of my truck without a license.”

“It’s not my fault. That cop was new to the force. I didn’t have time to weasel my way onto his good side before he pulled me over.”

“Yeah, it’s the cop’s fault you got your license suspended, not the fifth of whiskey sitting in your gut.”

Breeze reached over and beeped the horn, causing the German shepherd to bark, its chain-link collar winking in the porch lights. “Let’s go!”

“Jesus Christ, all right. We’re going to the fucking party now.” Michael slid behind the wheel as Rooney got in the passenger seat, crushing Breeze between the two of them. “Happy?”

“I’m sure I will be,” Breeze purred, “no matter what kind of sour mood
you’re
in.”

Michael grimaced. “Of that I have no doubt.”

* * * *

“Damn, whose idea was it to come here?” Rooney said as they arrived at the party, which was composed of seven people milling around the living room and two setting up beer pong in the kitchen. “If it gets any wilder, a bridge game is going to break out.”

“It’s not even midnight yet.” Breeze shrugged out of her coat and tossed it in a corner on the floor. “Give it a chance.”

“Breezy!” Lisa Melane scurried over, wearing a plastic, silver tiara, its crown molded into the shape of
1975
. “Finally you’re here!” She gave Breeze a kiss on the cheek and threw her arms around her shoulders, careful not to spill her red cup of beer. When she pulled away from the embrace, she gasped. “Oh no, I got my lipstick on you!”

“That’s all right.” Breeze wiped at her face. “I always wondered what it was like to have an imperfection.”

“You only need to ask,” Michael said. “I can give you a detailed list of all yours.”

“Ignore him, Breezy. Come with me.” Lisa grabbed her roommate’s hand. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

“That’s amazing, considering no one’s here,” Rooney said, but Lisa ushered Breeze off somewhere else in the house. He turned to Michael. “I’m gonna go grab a brew. Want one?”

“Sure.” Michael shrugged. “It can only help, right?”

Rooney bobbed his head with vigor. “For all our sakes, I hope so.”

* * * *

Not much time had to pass before people filtered in and out the front door. Soon, partygoers filled the house with the mission of draining the keg sitting in a tub of ice in the garage. The heady thrum of sex and suggestion vibrated the air.

The nice buzz rippling through him pleased Michael, despite his status as the designated driver. He had convinced himself he deserved to spend the evening in an intoxicated daze, and if Rooney and Breeze wanted to complain, they could get a ride home with someone else.

He narrowed his eyes as he thought of his friends. An hour had drifted by without any sight of Breeze, and midnight fast approached. He glanced around the crowded living room, seeing plenty of blondes who all could pass for Breeze at first glance, and his stomach plunged every time he caught sight of a golden-haired girl with her arms wrapped around someone’s neck. He told himself Breeze wouldn’t cheat on him again, not after they’d talked it out. Still, he felt nauseous with all the possibilities swimming in his head.

Michael caught sight of Rooney, nursing the few drops left in his bottle of whiskey and staring at the ass of a redhead wearing a rainbow-print cowl-neck top. “Hey!” He grabbed his friend’s arm. “Where’s Breeze? It’s almost twelve.”

“I don’t know, man!” Rooney hollered back over the music, still staring at the redhead. “Last I saw her, she was looking pretty friendly with Jeff Myers.” He turned to Michael and blinked, long and slow, as if he just realized whom he was talking to. “But I’m sure it’s nothing, man. You and Breeze worked stuff out. You got nothing to worry about.”