Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series) (12 page)

“It’s been a few weeks. How is the hand?” Sardis asked, getting into the car. His body odor smacked Kyle’s nose. Sardis had worked on the roof hauling skips of clay roof tiles all day. The roofing company had a string of new construction jobs they bid too low on and now drove the workers hard to make their money.

Kyle leaned his head out the window as he started the car, “Getting better. Down to the splint and these wraps. Stiff when I take the splint off. I still can’t bend them.” He put the shifter into
Drive
and rolled the car out of the dusty lot.

“Drive through foreclosure town. I need a swim in another of those recently vacated homes. Any drinking water in here?”

“I filled the jug by your feet this morning.”

Sardis opened the jug, “You’re such a good wife, Kyle.” He drank longer than Kyle thought he could hold his breath. When he finally pulled the jug away, the plastic had sucked in upon itself. Sardis wheezed to catch his breath. Then he capped the jug and dropped it back to the floor. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s usually a problem.” Kyle remembered how Sardis’ thinking set them up for robbing that ice cream store when they were sixteen, pretending they had a gun, and frightening the two girls working the counter.

“Hell, Kyle. When are you getting a job? We need more cash.”

“The pity wage increase they gave you while I’m healing is helping.”

“They won’t take that away if you are back working. There are other new people on the crew too so I’m now one of the experienced laborers. We are getting closer to fall and winter. I’d like to have an apartment or something. The roofing jobs and construction stop when winter comes anyway.”

“We need to save our cash for better gear.”

“You’re thinking you can play?”

Kyle stared straight ahead. He flexed his hand and his fingers stayed stiff. “… No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Kyle twisted the car out of the rough scrabble and onto the more graded dirt road leading from the development.

Sardis announced, “When I get cleaned up, I’m going over to see Amanda at that winery.”

“She’s not into you.”

“I think she is. A girl like her wants somebody with a job. I got one of those.”

“She looks at a man and isn’t hung up by a job.”

“Keep thinking that. Many girls out there look for a promising dude, using their only measure of a man, flashy cash. They cannot help themselves. Amanda stared at me the whole time we played there.”

Kyle rubbed his nose, the smell of the bandage thrust the loss from the wound, “You know how many people are looking at us when we play? Everyone is staring in our direction. That means we play well, we entertain them with our music. They are not looking at you because they see a drummer with a roofing job. You’re practically hidden behind the cymbals anyway.”

“They try to grab that quick peek. Especially Amanda. Shit, she is hot.”

“Amanda was never interested in you, Sardis. You kind of blew it with that whole body shot episode anyway.”

“That seemed to work out for you. If you had not yanked me off her she would be mine right now. I’d look forward to getting home to see her.” Sardis tapped the door trim with his finger. “She will swoon over me, since you kicked her away. She likes my music.”

“Our music.”

“Look at you. You can’t play. Are you afraid of trying to play?”

“I can’t move my fingers. It is not as if I only have to point them in the general direction of the fingerboard. I have to hit the frets, the right frets, in the right chords, at speed with the song. You know how long I practiced when I started playing? I expect that all over again, retraining my fingers in their new roles.”

“Your fingers haven’t changed in weeks.”

“They’re healing.”

“Still, have you played anything?”

“I said my fingers are too stiff. The nerves shoot pain up my elbow every time I try bending them. It’s like getting-kicked-in-the-balls kind of pain, if my balls hung from my arm pit.”

Sardis spit a wad of phloem out the window that could have smothered a lizard, “Elliot and I are starting a new band.”

“What?”

“We want to get somewhere. I cannot keep doing this roofing. I am more tired the next morning I start working than the previous night when I went home. This work just grinds a man down. We need to hit a store and rob some cash. Shit. No taxes taken out of that check, heh!” He slapped Kyle’s shoulder.

Kyle stomped on the car brakes and skidded to a stop at the side of the dirt road. A truck full of white-dusted dry-wall laborers and painters banged passed them. Kyle got out of the car in the middle of the dust cloud kicked up by the truck. He yanked open the passenger door and pulled Sardis out of the car by his ripped t-shirt. Sardis fell to the rocky dirt. Kyle kicked him in the ribs with his boot. Sardis rolled over and pushed to regain his feet. He lunged at Kyle, catching him in a tackle that slammed him against the side of the unyielding car body. Kyle’s head bounced against the edge of the unforgiving metal roof. Sardis punched Kyle in the stomach. Kyle bent forward, his air expelled from his lungs. Kyle tipped up and milled his fist around connecting with his brother’s chin. Sardis stumbled back.

Another battered pickup clanked beyond the car as it bounded through a pothole, mostly obscured by the shifting dust storm swirling between the vehicles.

Kyle swung and hit Sardis in the stomach. Sardis twisted and kicked Kyle’s foot from under him. Kyle fell to his shoulder and Sardis kicked into Kyle’s still healing ribs. Kyle cringed and rolled, protecting his ribs until he could draw enough of the dusty air to understand where he lay and what was up and what was down.

Sardis grabbed Kyle’s shirt and yanked him to his knees. Sardis smacked Kyle with his fist in the side of his head. Kyle pushed at the ground and shambled to his feet. He kicked his arm out in a bad swing and only realized as his fist connected and the bandages splayed away that his damaged hand had crushed into Sardis’ nose. His brother’s head snapped back and his hands went to his bloody face. Kyle fell to the dirt holding his hand that had disappeared into a hazy blur of pain. He pressed through the pain cloud with his other hand, feeling for the bones in his damaged hand. The hurt ran up his shoulder and vibrated along his spine but the bones seemed like they held. He flexed his fingers and he could close them into a fist, the first time they bent together into any type of grip since before the accident.

Sardis pulled his shirt off and wadded it against his face. He got to the car and fell in the seat. His naked arm tugged the door closed and righted himself in the seat. He stared ahead with a grim acceptance on his face and waited for Kyle.

Kyle picked himself up from the dirt. He shuffled for the car, his elbow squeezing against his ribs. He flexed his fingers again. The pain rambled through his shoulder but his mind pushed it away while he watched his fingers move together, hinge in and out slowly, individually.

A tiny sparkle of hope whirled out of the dust that still obliterated his world.

Kyle heard the creak of a car door followed by the slam of it shutting. He had fallen asleep hoping to avoid the hunger that his empty pocket could not quench.

“Hey there, Mr. Hottie.” Haley’s head poked through his open window, disturbing a fly that eagerly rubbed its front legs. “I thought I’d find you under this tree.”

Kyle twisted himself off the rear bench seat and reached for the door handle to get out of the car. The door swung open, pulled by Haley. Kyle’s eyes bulged. She wore a silk robe patterned with a confusion of zebra stripes but the confusion ended when she flicked the belt knot undone and a wide strip of her naked body glowed before him. He saw the soft drape of the robe over her breasts, nudged back with her hard nipples. The flourish of tattoos that spun out from her ribs and across her belly like a living vine leaped over her pale skin. A bright diamond glittered in her belly button and her dark, close cut landscaping urged his eyes further down along the sweep between her legs. She dropped one knee to the seat between his legs. Kyle slid deeper into the car like a caged sacrifice soon to be under the knife of a high priestess. She reached for his shirtless and crunched up abdomen. Her eyes closed when her fingers touched him, savoring him. Kyle suddenly wished he had not used his shirt for a pillow. She brought her other foot inside the car, kicking off her sandal in a smooth motion and closing the door after her. Kyle knew the danger. He could smell her fragrant shampoo and maddening ginger perfume that burned his nose and yanked at his body. Her breasts swayed and urged him to caress them. Her thighs clamped his leg and he could feel her heat through his jeans. His body charged alive wanting her, his arms and hands desired only to wrap her curves with his touch.

Haley whispered in his ear, her dark hair draping next to her face, trimmed edgy and sharp, “I want you to take me.” She bit her lip and repeated, “Take me, now.” She closed her eyes and let a moan rumble through her that he felt jangle his groin in the only way that tone could affect a man. His pants became much too tight. She leaned against him, the pressure only causing him to want her more. His body gripped his mind and shook it awake, although a piece of him held back and questioned her motive.

Haley looked into Kyle’s eyes, “I know you’re unattached and free to enjoy me. I want you.” Haley licked her lips and parted them, “I can feel your dick is ready for me,” She stroked his pants. “Don’t be a wimp. You’re too strong for that.”

“I shouldn’t.”

Haley reared her body back like a cobra and flung off the robe. The arc of her movement flashed his mind like a mermaid shooting up from sparkling ocean currents. An evil, tattooed mermaid. He sat forward and wrapped his arms around her. One arm across her bottom, the other around her shoulder blades and he crushed her body against him, her breasts pressed against his face. He could so easily reach his tongue out and stroke the little cone of nipple that wobbled like an upturned top. Her smell was strong, powerful, and filled with desire that fueled his need for her. He held her tight.

Haley reached her black nail polished fingers to Kyle’s head and tipped it back. She slid between his arms and reached her red lips to his. He needed his pants flung open, the pressure grew, and at an alarming rate as if he was rolled up like a bloated red carpet looking for a movie premier. He slid his arms down her supple sides. His damaged fingers curled over her curves. He flexed his fingers. He had tuned up his guitar earlier that morning but put it away before ever strumming a chord. He flexed his fingers again. Before Amanda, he would have taken Haley as soon as he saw her robe, flung her down on the car seat, and shed his jeans. Amanda changed him. He flexed his fingers. He gripped Haley’s body and slid from under her, setting her down on the seat. His fingers found the crumpled robe on the floor and gave it to her. “You're sexy on the outside, but rotten inside.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you painted all our stolen music gear so it could be sold.”

“I didn't know it was yours. I got a call at the tattoo shop from these guys, friends of Sardis they said, and wanted artwork.” She stroked a hand across the floral pattern tattoo that curled along her side; Kyle guessed she gouged that one into herself. She lifted her hand so she cupped her breast and the nipple flashed Kyle like the ruddy circle on butterfly wings meant to confuse and hypnotize predators.

“It had my band's name stenciled on the back of all of them.” Kyle kicked the door handle with his heel and backed out of the car. He pointed his finger away, “Go.”

“That was crap equipment. What did you want it for?”

“That crap equipment was better than nothing. I had to build my guitar from nothing.”

“How does it play to you? It sounded good at the winery, to me.”

Kyle knew in his heart that his scrap-wood guitar had more tone and more soul than any instrument he ever played before, even those two-thousand dollar sparkling units hanging in the music store. Which only twisted the iron rod that pierced his heart since his hand could not play it. “It doesn’t matter. The loss of that equipment made Sardis and I worry and work too hard at a risky job to earn money for new equipment – it caused me to fall. That led me to nail my hand to the roof and destroy my all of my guitar playing.” Kyle knew he must be away from her. “You need to go.”

Haley snatched Kyle’s hand and looked at the pink scabs and bright scars, turning it over. She released Kyle’s hand in disgust, “Your hand is recovered, and you have strength in there. You’re just being a dick.” She jammed her toes into her gold sandals and tied her robe sash tight. The robe hugged her curves as Kyle watched her strut toward her car. Her bottom waved at him, telling him you are an idiot for refusing sex with this body. Although he knew that body came here with purpose to manipulate and own him as she had so many others.

The squeal of a police car siren startled Kyle. The vehicle bounded from the blacktop road into the dirt behind Haley’s car, blocking her escape. Little whorls of dust surged forward and enveloped Haley’s legs up to her knees as she stood lifting the door handle.

The officer exited his car and walked to Haley, his hand hovering near his holster while he watched both Haley and Kyle. “We’ve been looking for you, Haley Clasik. We had a tip you were the one involved with that house party.” A second police officer exited the other side of the car and stood ready and watchful.

Haley released the door handle, “It wasn’t me with the hot tub chick.” Her shoulders sagged and she began to cry while she pointed at Kyle, “His brother Sardis drowned the girl.”

The officers looked at Kyle. The officer by the car leaned in and grabbed the radio mike. Unintelligible chatter went back and forth between clicks of the mike button. The second officer said to the first, “That girl was revived en-route to the emergency department. She declined pressing charges.”

The first officer looked at Kyle, “Tell your brother he’s lucky he’s off the hook.” His focus returned to Haley, “Turn around, hands on the top of the car. We are arresting you for arson, breaking and entering, vehicular theft, and fleeing an accident scene.” In a practiced motion, he slapped handcuffs around Haley’s wrists as he read her rights to her.

The second officer said to the first, “Hey, before you stuff her in the car, double-check her shoulder for that tattoo.”

“Right,” said the first officer. He pulled back the robe exposing her shoulder. He saw the edges of a tattoo that covered her shoulder blade, he pulled the robe down further on her back, “Here it is, a regular zombie apocalypse biohazard tattoo. This is the girl.”

Haley looked at Kyle, the marks of a hard cry coloring her face, “Kyle, help me! Tell them I was with you the whole night. You had your way with me, more than once. Up the hill behind the house during and after the party.”

A tow truck arrived, backed around the police car, and up to Haley’s car.

Kyle said, “No, she wasn’t with me. I didn’t have anything to do with that place.”

She said, “He’s lying. He has been raping me for weeks. I just escaped.”

Kyle said to the officer, “She is making that up.”

The officer looked over his sunglasses, “I think it might be the other way around. She will be checked out when booked anyway. If something is wrong then we may be back for you.”

“Kyle, I love you. Save me, please.
Please!
”

Kyle turned away and closed his eyes to shut out Haley’s whimpering and crying as they drew her toward the police car. The second officer opened the rear door. While the first officer shoved her head under the car roofline she shouted to Kyle, all her pretended sadness and pitifulness vaporized in the act he knew she used, “You are an ass, Kyle.” The officer’s hand pressed her into the car, slammed the door, and then they got in and drove away.

Kyle listened to the clanking and whining tow truck as it dragged Haley’s car up the tilted deck and bent down to the flatbed with the hiss of hydraulic cylinders. He heard the tow truck driver slam his door and grind the truck into gear and return to the asphalt road and civilization.

Kyle looked at his hand. Even though it is Haley, and she had done bad things, why did his soul feel notched again? He never worried about this before. What had Amanda done to change him?

He looked up at hearing the crunch of tires on the dirt, expecting the police returned for him this time. Should he run? He looked over the top of the seat and saw Amanda’s car. Kyle swung his legs off the seat and stood. He realized he still only wore his jeans. He glanced inside his car thinking he should grab his crumpled shirt but Amanda already came from her car. He saw her pause for half a heartbeat and he watched her pupils widen as she took all of him in. She said, “Sardis suggested I could find you here.”

“He didn’t use those words, did he?” Kyle nodded. “You should stay away.”

She paused, coming toward him, “You can’t remain bitter forever.”

Kyle flexed his fingers and squeezed them into fists. Pain jabbed along his arm and through his shoulder, his face gritted and winced, but the fingers curled toward his palm.

“You moved your fingers!” She took another few cautious steps toward Kyle.

“I’m afraid of false hopes.” Too many times in his life hope had turned on him. When his first job after leaving school paid him money, he stopped at the house to show his father and marvel over all the taxes drawn from the check. Money he earned, not something stolen, his honest work. He hoped his father might give him more respect, veiled congratulations, or even quiet praise – but praise never came. Too much to hope for.

Amanda took another pair of steps, “Let me see your hand.”

Kyle knew if she touched him, his resolve would waiver and self-destruct. “No. You should go.”

“I can see your pain for me; it’s different from your injuries. Do you really want me to go? I want to stay. I want you in my life.”

Kyle lifted his damaged hand between them, reaching for her. Amanda took the last pair of steps and her fingers caressed his fingers. Her touch brushed him like gossamer strands from an angel. He desperately needed to hug her. He pulled her toward him. Before he could change his mind, Amanda threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He let her kiss him, let her anchor his being. He knew he was hers, for as long as she could stand his desperate depression, his money struggles, and his lost music. He wanted to heal for her as much as for himself.

Tires squealed on the blacktop road as a car whipped around in a U-turn. A blue Camaro accelerated toward them, rocketing over the ditch and straight at them. Kyle spun away with Amanda in his arms, putting the bulk of his Crown Vic between them. The Camaro crunched into the rear door.

Amanda shrieked, “It’s Nick!”

Nick stabbed his finger in the air at her from the other side of his windshield. They could see him screaming, “Fuck you! For burning down my house! Fuck you, pretty girl!”

Kyle pulled Amanda with him around the car. He yanked open the passenger door and dragged her in behind him. He scooted under the steering wheel, started the engine, and accelerated toward the blacktop.

Nick shifted his car in reverse and then into drive, spinning dirt in a fantail getting back to the blacktop and chasing Kyle and Amanda.

Kyle turned from the lane onto Rancho California road and sped east.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere.” Kyle checked the rear-view mirror and saw Nick gaining on them. “His car is more maneuverable than this pig. And faster.” Kyle kicked the shifter down from drive to third gear, the engine raced, but the car chugged forward.

“The road bends tight up the hills passed Amber Mountain winery.”

“I know.” Kyle shifted the car back into drive and the noise dropped. The body floated at this speed like an unstable airplane attempting to take off in a crosswind.

Kyle swerved around several meandering cars and a bus. A
San Diego Party Platoon
banner plastered the side of the bus. The bus exhaust coiled into Kyle’s open car windows as they drove around the bus, the strong odor of diesel mixed with French fry oil converted to bio-diesel made him hungry.

The road curled down and around before it raced up into the hills. Kyle pressed the brakes and the left rear brake threw the last of its shoe and ground metal on metal. He kept the steering gripped tight in his hands and held the now twisting jet on course. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Nick approaching rapidly. Kyle’s car careened around the curves, loose ball joints causing the front wheels to wobble and make him feel like he would wrap into the semi coming from the other direction. He swerved and tucked the car back on his side of the yellow line. He hammered the accelerator. The car reared up and surged forward. Then the engine coughed. Kyle kicked the accelerator again and the car surged forward but again sputtered. It bucked and flung them against their seat belts only to fail and fall back.