Down 'N' Derby (10 page)
“Dude, you’re gonna run down the battery on my phone. We’ll find out how to get to Venice Beach in the morning. We have time.” He grabbed the phone from me and plugged it into the wall. Nixon tried to speak to me all nonchalant but I could tell he wanted me off of his phone because he didn’t want me to find out he was calling Reed. I didn’t care if he was talking to Reed. She wouldn’t tell anyone and now she and Falcon were gone.
“Then you might not be able to call Reed and give her our exact location. Oh, and probably let her know I’m still sane, right?” He turned white as over-bleached teeth and looked in my direction but he was pissed. “Oh please, poor pitiful Maddox has so many people who care about him. How lame. Do you know how many times my mom has called me? Zero. So shut the Hell up.” He clicked the TV off and I left him alone. He was right. I was being a dick to my family and I promised myself I would call them someday soon.
“Journey hasn’t called?” I asked him.
“She called once. I blocked her number.” He was still turned around, facing away from me.
“Why? That’s your best friend.” I knew he and Journey had been friends since they were in grade school.
“Because she’s just as ignorant as you,” Then he got up and walked out the door and I felt like crap for saying anything to him about it.
He came back in eventually, after I’d gone to sleep and threw himself on the bed, still pissed. I would have to apologize in the morning.
Chapter 18
Storey
Derby was my saving grace. Those girls taught me to quit beating myself up for –well, getting beat up. Then they taught me how to lay into other girls on the track. And wasn’t that jus
t the best kind of hypocrisy?
The next morning was bright and sunny, the perfect day for skating on the strip. I woke up early, threw my brown hair into some kind of lump atop my head. I scoured my dresser for a tank top and a pair of shorts that I wouldn’t mind getting beat up. I had a habit of making friends with the concrete, and the sand—sometimes the street posts. I tried to be careful of my face, since it was my money maker but I didn’t make any promises.
I slid a pair of rainbow knee high socks up my legs, grabbed my skates and at the bottom step laced them up and made my way down the strip. The strip was nothing but tourist venues and head shops. Seriously, there were as many shops that sold bongs as there were t-shirts. Skating here was like weaving through traffic. In and out, around and sometimes under the limbs of people walking, wondering where the grandeur of Venice Beach was—and hoping to find it if they just walked a little bit further. But the fun of California was in the laid back attitude, the anything goes mantra, plus Venice Beach is the birthplace of skateboarding and wasn’t that cool enough in itself?
I watched from the corner of my eye as the sun rose to full bloom and more and more beach bums took their regular spots on the sand. Families bogged down with gallons of sun block and every pool toy sold trampled over themselves; trying to get to the best spot. But only the locals knew the best spots and they weren’t anywhere near the strip.
After an hour or so, I made my way back and stripped off my skates before going up the stairs. I had only eaten it four times and one of those times was on the sand but trekking up stairs was a whole other issue.
I got inside and called the phone company and had them turn my phone service off. It was funny how companies don’t give a rat’s crap about you when you are already their customer but the minute you call to cancel your service they offer you six months of free service or half price service. Now why can’t they treat people that nice while they are customers? After avoiding being hustled, I showered and tried on both of my new bikinis. I chose the black high waisted one with pink polka dots and a pink heart on the right butt cheek. I dug through my collection of sunglasses, way too many sunglasses for one person, and chose a pink pair. I threw on some flip flops and grabbed a beach towel, a book and a couple of bottles of water and tossed them in a bag.
I seriously contemplated driving up to Malibu to a little cove where there wasn’t much traffic but decided on the beach right in front of me instead. It was crowded with people from every age group, every class, and every financial status. The beach was the leveling ground. All you needed was a swimsuit, a towel and if you ventured into the ocean, you had to know how to swim—the beach was the great equalizer.
I found a spot closer to some of the families that huddled together. It was usually safer that way. Plus, some guys were playing volleyball a little ways down and I didn’t want to take a hit. I pulled out my book, adjusted my sunglasses and took in the rays. I read until the sun peaked in the sky and the families around me unpacked soggy sandwiches and pouches of fruit punch. I gathered my things and walked towards the taco stand on the corner. I ordered two carne asada tacos and ate them standing at the counter like the rest of the regulars. I took a minute to listen to some customers order in Spanish and butcher the language into smaller pieces than the meat in my taco. The funny part was when the lady taking orders replied in perfect English, “Sir, I speak English.”
I got a large Horchata to go and went back to the beach but my spot had been taken by two guys who looked fairly safe, so I placed my towel within shouting distance of them, just in case. I pulled a sip of Horchata through the straw and reveled in the creamy, sweet, cinnamon flavor. Kids were running and screaming everywhere as I looked around. I snuck a peek at the guys close to me once again. One had black hair cropped close to his head and if he didn’t watch it he would be sunburned in an hour, tops. The other one? Well, I pulled on my sunglasses again to make sure my perusal of him was disguised because I wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon. He was already tanned and in this sunlight it made his skin look like the top of crème brule and God help me if I didn’t want to crack into that deliciousness. His hair was dark brown, almost black, that fell into subtle waves. He had aviator sunglasses on and when he lifted his arm to adjust them, everything on his torso clenched and tightened. It wasn’t a ton of muscle, not like those guys who worked out behind the chain linked fences down the beach but he wasn’t scrawny by any stretch. He laughed at something the other one said and his ab muscles contracted and showed off for me. And his laugh, it was loud and free. He didn’t care that some of the people around him looked his way when he released it. I giggled a bit to myself as I saw him bury, excavate and re-bury his toes over and over in the blistering sand. After a few more minutes they both got up and took stances, ready for a race of some sort. And as he stood, I saw stars tattooed on his elbows and a pin-up girl on his side. I laughed a little to myself because the girl looked a lot like me. The gorgeous one counted to three and before he finished, the other one pushed him to the sand and took off towards the ocean—but Mr. Tan beat him anyway. They swam out past the breakers and apparently waged another race back to the shore. And the sight of him swimming—I’d never in my life been turned on by a set of arms but here I was burning.
I held my book up in front of me stupidly pretending to read while he returned to his towel and instead of drying himself off, he shook his head of the excess salt water and then plopped down, droplets of water still clinging to him. And I could tell he wasn’t purposefully trying to attract anyone, it was just who he was. I couldn’t imagine my response if he was actually trying. I might turn the sand beneath me to glass.
Someone ungracefully landed next to me and I rolled my eyes, prepping myself for the onslaught of flirting. I wasn’t vain but I was a model for crying out loud. I wasn’t ugly. But damn, I just wasn’t
that
gorgeous. I couldn’t even lie on the beach without being hit on. Sometimes I thought maybe the more covering vintage bikinis would be a turn off, that they would go for the more scantily clad chicks—but no, not the case.
“You’ve got that pin-up girl thing going, that’s hot.” I hated to be rude but sometimes the situation called for it.
I called on my smart ass tone to help me, “And you’ve got that I’ve just plopped my ass down where it doesn’t belong thing going.” And I couldn’t see him because I was staring down Idiot Head, but I swore I heard a chuckle from Suntan’s direction.
“You don’t have to be mean, Pork Chop.” At the nickname Pork Chop, I looked around seriously scanning the trees and cars for a hidden camera. This was some Punk’d shit for sure. Who in their right mind called a girl Pork Chop?
“Um, I’m not a cut of pork and you need to move while you still have your nuts intact.”
He laughed a little but was relentless. “That’s ok, why don’t we go some place where we can see how skilled you are and give you a better nickname.
“Or, you can leave me the hell alone and find some airhead who likes your butcher talk.”
He got up after that but turned around after a few steps later and gave me one last piece of his pitiful mind. “You’re cute all right, but damn, what a wench.”
I was prepared to shrug him off. I was usually called the ice queen or frosty by guys and this was just one more instance where I could care less what he thought of me. But Suntan had a different plan. He stood up as the pig was passing and said something in a voice so low and deep that I couldn’t hear the words. But whatever it was Pig didn’t like it one bit. He shoved Suntan back a few steps and I could tell he let that happen. If he wanted to, he wouldn’t have moved one inch. The other guy with him now stood up behind him, jeering him on. “Kick his ass, Maddox.”
“Don’t touch me again and you should apologize to the lady. Where I come from we don’t call women that name—ever.”
The guy laughed and got closer to him, “I’ll talk to her any way I want to. This isn’t Hickville, this is California.”
Before I knew what was happening, Maddox, I now knew his name, swung the guy around, bolted him in a headlock and they were both storming towards me. I could feel my eyes grow to the size of silver dollars. What was he doing?
He made the guy come to a stop in front of me and then clipped the back of his knees with his foot which made Pig kneel in front of me. “I asked nicely,” Maddox said to him through clenched teeth, “Now I’m asking not nicely, apologize to the lady before you pass out.” He mumbled a sorry and I accepted, I think. I was so shocked I could hardly speak.
“Not good enough, asshole. Apologize.”
“I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry,” he said and then was released from Maddox’s hold.
He choked and sputtered before getting up and walking away. I felt like a spectator sitting on the ground in the shadow of him. The sun shone behind his height.
“Are you okay? He didn’t touch you did he?” I guess I didn’t answer quickly enough for him and he made a few steps in the direction of the pig now escaping with his tail between his legs.
“Hey, no, he didn’t touch me. Sorry, I was just in shock a little.”
He backtracked and then just stared at me for a while. I squirmed under his inspection and I never squirmed under the gaze of a guy. He made me nervous. This guy, I wanted whatever he saw to make him feel like I did when I looked at him. And now I could see another tattoo on his pec, an anchor and didn’t that just make him hotter.
I got ahold of myself and could finally speak normally, “Hey, why don’t you guys let me buy you dinner for your show of chivalry?” I looked to the other one who just stared at Maddox with concern on his face and then it was him that answered me. He stepped forward and outstretched his hand, “Hi, I’m Nixon. This is Maddox,” He pointed towards his cohort and rolled his eyes. “Thank you but our moms would beat us if they found out we took a meal from a lady.” He slapped Maddox on the bicep, pulling him from his episode.
“Yeah, um, thanks anyway—But we could have dinner with you and your company could be the repayment.” I laughed at their almost John Wayne gentleman ways. I was from the South, but this was off the charts.
“Ok, how about tonight? I know a great pizza place up the block.”
Nixon laughed and looked to Maddox for a response. “Um, can we go somewhere else? How about Japanese?” A guy who doesn’t like pizza? I was beginning to think I’d stepped into an old episode of Quantum Leap.
“Ok, yeah. There’s one on PCH, about five miles South.”