Jaded (13 page)

Still laughing, I staggered to my feet while I turned and kicked him in the side.

He howled, but lunged for my feet the next instant.

Not wanting to fall on my back, I fell forward onto Corrigan’s stomach.

Corrigan caught me just before my elbow connected with his groin, but he flipped his body as a wrestler and had me pinned to the ground instantly.

“Am I supposed to tap out?” I asked as I panted. I knew that I had a stupid grin on my face, but I didn’t care at that instant.

“Tap out, bitch.” Corrigan growled, but giggled at the end. This made me giggle.

We hadn’t wrestled like this for years. This was the kid that I had befriended so many years ago. This was the real Corrigan behind all of his walls that I sometimes forgot were there.

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All of the sudden, I felt my throat choke and I blinked back some tears.

I scrambled to my feet and started to walk away quickly. Horrified.

“What—Sheldon!” Corrigan called after me as he jogged to catch up. When he

saw my tears, he fell silent beside me.

He looked away. I looked the other way.

When we entered the mall’s food court, Corrigan cleared his throat and looked slightly embarrassed.

“What?” I asked forcibly, my voice hoarse.

He looked away again. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought that he

looked panicked.

“What?” I said again and was grateful that my voice sounded more normal.

He stuffed his hands inside his jeans, hunched his shoulders, and asked in a quiet voice, almost too quiet for me to catch, “Are you…I mean…never mind.”

“I’m good. Don’t worry,” I murmured quickly and bumped my shoulder to his.

A grateful smile spread over his face and he bumped back. From there a short arm wrestling match ensued and it ended with Corrigan getting another piggy-back ride in the mall.

We walked around for an hour. I modeled some lingerie to his wolf whistles. He tried on some flannel pants to my suggestive comments about the crotch-flap. Even though the modeling had started as a joke, Corrigan bought a pair of flannel pants because of ‘easy access.’

The clerk had given us both a knowing and slightly disapproving look, which

Corrigan had loved.

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From there, he brought some smoothies and we ended our mall tour in the tattoo parlor. Corrigan already had two tattoos and was considering a dragon design for the back of his left leg.

I briefly considered a tramp stamp, but decided against it. Even with all my hype, I wanted to get a tattoo when it meant something.

We left the mall, stopped at a place for sub sandwiches, and headed to my house.

Just as Corrigan turned into my driveway, we both heard a sudden pop and the car swerved. Corrigan cursed and slammed on the brakes. He was out of the car in the next instant and I followed to hear him cursing some more.

He kicked a tire and spat out, “A flat.”

“How?” I asked and glanced at my driveway.

My eyes found some spikes with steel-pointed edges that had been laid across my driveway.

“What the hell?” I asked as I knelt for a closer look. They were attached to a cord.

Each end had been clamped down by some steel rods that were used to secure tents into the ground.

Just then we heard a squeal of tires and a truck roared past us. As they passed, the window opened and a brick was thrown at us. It smashed into Corrigan’s back windshield. After it peeled around the corner and the engine sound faded, I didn’t have to look at Corrigan. I already knew he was furious. When Corrigan was livid, he was silent.

When he was pissed, he cursed, complained, and threatened.

Corrigan

was

silent.

“Do you know—” I managed out before he cut me off.

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“Yerling,” He spat harshly and cursed savagely. “Yerling.”

He fell silent again.

I sighed and pulled up the rods that had been stuck into the ground. I rolled up the cord with all the spikes and stood there. Corrigan hadn’t moved. His jaw clenched every now and then.

We stood there for awhile before I started his car and moved it to the side.

When I got back out, Corrigan must’ve clamped enough control over his fury

because he opened his trunk and changed his tire. He threw his old one into the trunk and grabbed the keys from my hand. He peeled out of my driveway without a goodbye.

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I sighed as I walked towards my house. I already knew Corrigan would get

revenge. He was the joker, the player, but he also had a temper and a penchant for ending up in jail. I figured I should make a trip to the bank, just in case I got another phone call asking for bail in the middle of the night.

When I entered my house, I walked through the garage to make sure my cars were all fine and left untouched.

They were.

Yerling hadn’t broken into my garage. If he had broken into my house, the alarm would’ve sounded and my phone would’ve rang with a police report.

As I passed the front entrance into the kitchen, I noticed something on the ground.

Another note.

You didn’t take the first note serious. It wasn’t a warning. Adhere the

grave circumstances if this note is thrown to the side as well.

To the trash it went.

I grabbed a can of soda and got into my car. The first stop was the bank, just in case. I withdrew two grand because I never knew what would happen with Corrigan. His bail had been a thousand one time and three hundred another time. Judging from his fury, I didn’t think he would be content just trashing Yerling’s car.

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When I pulled into the Café Diner’s parking lot, I saw that Bryce’s car was there.

He sat at the same booth in the back section. Chet, Holster, and Evan Harris sat with him.

Becky Lew sat at a different table, across from theirs. The guys seemed to be ignoring the girls, while the girls were pissed that their flirting wasn’t getting them attention.

Bryce’s eyes found me and he nodded in greeting.

Chet stood and moved beside Holster and Harris.

I took his seat beside Bryce.

“You talk to Corrigan within the last hour?” I asked.

The guys quieted.

Bryce frowned slightly and shook his head. He asked, “Should I have?”

“Yerling put some tire slashes on my driveway. Corrigan lost a tire from it and his back windshield got smashed up. Yerling threw a brick as they drove off.”

Chet started laughing. The rest of the guys all mirrored his amusement.

Bryce shook his head with a resigned look in his eyes. He murmured, “I should head to the bank.”

“Already did,” I told him.

Chet barked out a laugh at that. “Oh god. That’s hilarious.”

Harris leaned forward and asked, delight in his eyes, “So Sheldon, are you really coming to my party? It’s tomorrow night, you know.”

I cast a lazy eye over him and shrugged, “I’ll try.”

Bryce wasn’t listening.

“What do you think he’ll do?” I asked.

“With him—who knows,” Bryce muttered, frowning.

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“Didn’t Corrigan light a shed on fire once because someone messed up his

locker?” Chet asked.

Bryce

swore.

“Imagine what he’s going to do for his car getting messed up.”

I

swore.

“Yerling’s going to the morgue if he keeps pissing off Corrigan,” Holster

remarked.

The guys all had the same sudden wariness now.

“Keeps pissing off Corrigan? What do you mean?” I was in the dark here. And I knew I didn’t enjoy being in the dark, something else had happened.

Chet frowned and glanced to Bryce.

Holster and Harris both looked away. Sometimes I thought they were spineless, but then again—they were followers. I’d witnessed when those guys had waded through fire if Bryce, Chet, or Corrigan told them to. They weren’t spineless, but wary at times.

And they had reason to be.

“What am I missing?” I looked at all four of them and ended with Bryce. He had been watching me with an emotion I couldn’t name. A knot of dread suddenly took root in my stomach.

Oh

god.

“What is going on?”

“Uh…” Bryce started, but fell silent.

Chet cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Uh…Yerling’s been pushing the

envelope lately. He’s been…he’s been—”

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“A psycho lately,” Holster said flatly.

Chet threw him a frown, but resumed, “Yeah, well, he’s been off his rocker lately.

Remember that day in here when he…”

“I remember,” I said dryly. I’d been there. I didn’t need to remember when he’d made me scared—pansy.

“Well…the truth is that Yerling had done something to another girl this past weekend. And—” Chet gave Bryce a beseeching look.

Bryce coughed and finished, calmly, “Yerling hurt a girl at my party Friday

night.”

“What?” I hadn’t heard anything about that.

“And on Sunday night, he made a few not-pretty comments about you—about

what he’d like to do to you. We’ve been kinda watching him ever since then.”

“He knew the score!” Harris burst out. “You told him that if he hurt anyone else or even looked like he might hurt someone that you’d put him down. He’s asked for what’s coming to him.”

“He seemed fine on Monday and Tuesday. He was joking with Brent at lunch that day.” This was from Chet.

“I know. We saw him in the principal’s office Tuesday. He was fine,” Bryce

remarked.

“He said he’d gotten caught getting a blowjob,” I said shortly. “He lied.”

“Or he was trying to make someone give him a blowjob,” Holster mumbled

without thinking what he’d just said. His eyes widened when he did and he glanced at Bryce.

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Bryce said slowly, “If that was the case…who was the girl?”

“I haven’t heard a thing,” Chet remarked as he swallowed tightly.

“Me neither,” Evan parroted.

“Right,” I scoffed. “Because girls who are forced to do sexual acts really go around and proclaim it.” I sent a scathing glance at them. “You guys are idiots.”

They looked at me.

“If you guys were forced to do something like that, would you tell people?”

They all grimaced and looked anywhere, but at me.

“Ignorant, ignorant, ignorant. And you’re idiots,” I chastised before I caught a glimpse of Becky Lew, who had been watching us. “Why is she looking at us?”

The guys seemed to sigh in relief at the same time. The topic had been changed.

Bryce relaxed beside me and threw an arm across the top of the booth. His hand brushed my shoulder.

“Because she’s hot for Scout,” Harris said with a cocky glint.

Bryce smirked and reached for his drink. His hand started to rub up and down against my shoulder.

He asked me, “You want something to eat?”

“I’m

good.”

“I could eat something. Let’s go to Donadeli,” Chet requested and the decision was made. The guys stood one by one and all trailed towards the door. I caught a sneer from Becky Lew, but she turned and flung an arm around some other guy. As we cleared the back section, I tucked my fingers inside of Bryce’s back pocket and stopped him.

“Who’s the guy?” I gestured behind us.

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“Braven

Locke.

Why?”

Why? Because the guy next to him was salivating just as much and I remembered seeing that same guy with Leisha. She had been blushing and had even ducked her head, flirtatiously. I wanted to know, that’s why.

“Is he friends with the other guy, the blonde?” That’s who had caused Leisha to blush.

“I guess. His name is Carlos Hunstville.” Bryce shrugged. “Why do you care?”

I shrugged and moved past him. When we got outside, I threw over my shoulder,

“You’re driving.”

Bryce nodded and I sat shotgun with Harris in our backseat. Holster rode with Chet.

Bryce flipped some music on and it drowned out any conversation until he pulled into Donadeli’s small parking lot. Donadeli was a locally owned Italian deli with red plush booths and floors that had polka-dotted tiles. They specialized in meatballs, but served sandwiches to the majority of their customers. The guys’ liked the deli because they gave large helpings and Becky Lew’s crowd generally looked down their noses at the Italian eatery. It was a place to hide when the mood struck.

I liked going to Donadeli because the owner’s son had a crush on me.

“Hey Marcus,” I said warmly, sultry, as we strolled inside.

He dropped the menus from his hand and stood paralyzed for a second, which

didn’t seem too far from his normal blank-eyed stare. I somewhat felt sorry for Marcus at times. He stood around five feet and nine inches. His hair were black strands that just seemed to hang off his scalp. And his eyes were always covered by his glasses. I never Tijan Jaded

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looked long enough to notice what color they were. Over all, Marcus was just blah and most of the time, he acted blah.

Bryce reached around me and grabbed a few before leading the way to our table.

That was another thing. We sat where we wanted. We never waited to be seated. It had annoyed the owners at first, but Marcus must’ve said something for us because they never said anything.

I lingered at the hosting table and flirted with Marcus, my normal routine. This time, I got us free breadsticks and drinks, but Marcus said we needed to pay for the entrees. He almost choked in fear as he told me this.

He put our order through while I moved to the seat across from Bryce.

They all waited until I commented with a proud smile, “Breadsticks and drinks.”

A collective ‘nice’ sounded around the table.

“And he put your orders in.”

Another collective ‘sweet’ went around.