One True Thing (25 page)

“Get the fuck off him!” I yell, and throw myself into the mix. I’m aiming for the first guy when I connect with one of his friends, a satisfying crunching noise as my fist meets his nose.

The room is filled with shouts as bodies throw themselves into the fray. I feel another blow to my jaw, but I can still move it as I try to find Rowan. In seconds, I feel my arms pulled behind my back as I’m lifted out of the mess.

“Let me go!” I shout and try to twist away, but I hear the click of metal handcuffs on my wrists.

Without a word, the cop hands me off to another uniformed officer and I’m led out of the room. He looks exactly like the stereotypical cop—reddish hair that’s almost military short and a visible chip on his shoulder. If it was daytime, I’m betting he’d be wearing mirrored sunglasses. I don’t see Mitch or Stewart anywhere as we walk through the main part of the bar. The music is still blaring, but the place is in chaos with overturned chairs and puddles of beer on the floor.

He pushes me up against the back of the cop car and pats my pockets down. “Are you carrying any weapons? Drugs? Anything that could injure an officer?”

“No!”

The cop feels my wallet in my back pocket. “Do you have a driver’s license?”

“Yeah, in there,” I say. “But it’s from California.”

He pulls my wallet out and puts it on the hood of the car. “Watch your head,” he says, opening the back door of the cop car.

I turn, as much as I can with handcuffs on. “What for? I didn’t do anything!”

“Just sit down,” he says roughly and pushes me into the car.

I feel blood trickling down the back of my neck and the spot on my head where the guy clocked me with a pool cue is starting to throb. Through the window, I see a group by the front door shouting and gesturing and I see the mustache guy and Rowan on opposite ends of the fight as the cops try to break it up.

A different cop opens the door. He’s got straight dark hair and brown eyes so I glance at his nametag. Suarez. “Do you need medical attention?” he asks. To his credit, he actually looks concerned.

“I don’t know,” I say. My head hurts, but I can’t tell how bad it is.

“Let me see.” I turn my head and he parts my hair with gloved hands. “There’s a cut here—not too big, maybe half an inch, but it’s bleeding pretty good. And a bump that’s coming up.” He stands up again. “It’s up to you.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just want to get out of here.”

“So you’re refusing treatment?”

“I guess so.”

Suarez closes the door again and I see the crowd at the bar breaking up, but I don’t see anyone else being put into cop cars. Mustache guy is being pulled away by one of his friends and the cops don’t seem to be doing anything about it.

The first cop opens the door again. “Why are you letting that guy go?” I shout, nodding at the group as he’s walking toward the parking lot. “He’s the one who hit me with the pool cue!”

“We got his statement,” the cop says. “Says it was self-defense. Witnesses say that you hit him first.”

“What? That’s bullshit! I bumped him when I was playing and he nailed me as I turned to walk away.”

“That’s your version. You can tell that to the judge tomorrow.”

“What? I can’t go to jail! This is bullshit. That guy starts the fucking fight and
I’m
the only one in handcuffs?”

Just then Officer Suarez walks up to the car and taps the other cop on the shoulder. “The owner wants a word.”

The cop hesitates and then walks back into the bar.

Suarez looks down at his notes. “You’re the Tyler Branch from the Gator’s baseball team?”

I try to calm down, but it’s hard when handcuffs are digging into your wrists. “Yes. How did you know?”

He gives me a smile. “You’re right famous around here—I saw you play against Indiana. Hit two homers back-to-back. There’s talk that you might get recruited for the majors.”

I can feel him opening up and know I have a little bit of an in with this one—I just have to play it right. “With any luck.”

“My cousin had a try-out for the A’s once. Made it onto their triple-A team in Stockton.”

“Yeah? What position?”

“First base,” he says. “Couldn’t hack it though. Got sent home after the first season.”

“That’s too bad.” I glance over at the door. Rowan and Mitch are standing there talking to one of the cops. “Listen…this is total bullshit. This isn’t the first time we’ve had issues at this bar. I was walking away from a fight when that big asshole tagged me with the stick. He should be sitting here, not me.”

Suarez glances toward the front door. “The owner’s saying that you and your friends are a nuisance and he wants to prosecute this time. I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do about it.”

“I’ve got major league scouts coming to see me play on Friday. I can’t go to jail.” I glance at him. “If I was a white guy, you and I both know I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

He looks uncertain, but I know I’ve got him. We both know the truth even if there’s no way he can admit it. “Let me see what I can do.” He shuts the door again and walks back to the bar. I shut my eyes and lean forward, my head against the plastic partition. If I go to jail, I won’t be able to start the next game. If I don’t start, the scout won’t see me play and I’ll blow the best chance I’ve had in years of making it happen. He’s got to fix this. He’s got to.

I jump when the door opens again. Both cops are standing by the car. “Hop out Mr. Branch,” the first cop says. My heart is in my throat as I kick my legs out of the car and struggle to my feet. “Turn around,” he orders. It feels like I can finally breathe again when he unfastens the handcuffs and my wrists are free.

“Thank you.”

Officer Suarez is writing something down on the hood of the car. He rips a piece of paper off a pad and hands it to me along with my license and wallet. “This is a summons for being drunk and disorderly in public.”

I look at it. “A summons? What for? I’m not even drunk and it wasn’t in public.”

The first cop takes a step toward me. “I’d take this with a huge smile and a fucking ‘thank you’ on your lips because it’s only by the grace of God that you’re not sitting in the back of that car on the way to the station right now to spend the rest of the night in jail. Got that? Do I make myself clear?”

I can feel the rage boiling up in me. “Yes. Sir.” I crumple the ticket and jam it into my pocket.

The first cop walks away, but Suarez hangs back. “Look. Do yourself a favor and don’t come back here. Next time, there won’t be anything I can do.” He glances at the front of the bar. “This isn’t California—you need to be aware of that, especially now that your name is out there.”

I nod. “Got it.” I see Rowan and Mitch walking toward us in the parking lot. “Thanks.”

He smiles. “No problem. Hey—remember me when you’re famous. I want two tickets to a game sometime.”

Chapter
Twenty-Four (Jenna)

I fish around in my salad for the last of the tomatoes and push it over to the side.

“What did that tomato ever do to you?” Stewart asks, peering at my plate.

“I forgot to get them taken out,” I say.

“I thought you’d outgrown your tomato issues. You like my sauce.”

“I don’t mind tomatoes
in
things, but I hate them all by themselves.” I wrinkle my nose. “They’re squishy.”

Stewart leans over and spears one on his fork and wiggles it in front of my face. “Come on. Just one bite.”

“Stop!” I smack his hand away and the tomato flies off his fork and goes bouncing across the floor.

Stewart holds both of his hands up in surrender. “Okay. No tomatoes for Jenna.”

I stab the fork into the salad. “Sorry. Just not in the mood.”

“I can see that.” He takes a bite of his burger and chews thoughtfully. “Still pining after your baseball player?”

“I’m not pining,” I say. “I just…I just thought we had something special going on and then everything went to hell.” It’s funny because while the sex was hot, when I think about Ty it’s the moments that we were just hanging around the house that stand out. The times when we were just reading at opposite ends of the couch or sitting with a pizza watching a movie. While I miss his body desperately, it feels like I miss just being with him more.

Stewart wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Ty’s all that happy either.” He leans forward. “Got in a bar fight the other night at McCarthy’s. Almost got arrested.”

“He did? Is he okay?” I hate the fact that this does make me feel a tiny bit better.

“Got a pretty good whack on the head with a pool cue from some asshole, but yeah, I think he’s okay.” He pauses. “You know, some scouts are supposed to be at the game today. Why don’t you come with me? We can sit way up at the top of the bleachers—no one will even know we’re there. We’ll be the invisible fans cheering in silence. ”

“I can barely look at Ty. Watching him play would be torture,” I say. I don’t miss the look on Stewart’s face. “So how are things going with Rowan?”

“Fine. Mostly.” He picks at his fries. “It’s frustrating though. I totally get why Rowan has to be discreet. I’ve been there. But I’m not there anymore and I want to shout to the universe that I’m seeing this amazing guy and I’m not even allowed to walk too close to him in public.”

“Kind of like the old days,” I sympathize. “Maybe Rowan is too much right now? Maybe you should go out with someone who doesn’t mind people knowing.”

“Right,” he says. “Like the gay community at Garvin is so totally hopping. Anyway, I don’t want anyone but Rowan. He’s perfect.” Stewart looks up at me and I can see the seriousness in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him because I think he’s the one.”

“Wow! That’s awesome.” I swallow hard, knowing that I thought the same thing just a few weeks ago.

Stewart reads the look on my face and grabs my hand on the table. “Why don’t you just talk to Ty? Give him a chance to explain?”

I shake my head. “How can he explain lying to me the entire time we were going out? If I can’t trust him about something so fundamental, how can I trust him about anything? You were there when Jake happened—no way am I going through that again.”

“Maybe Ty didn’t think he could trust you.”

That pisses me off a little. “How’s that?”

“Look, I’ve been passing as straight most of my life and I get the temptation. People make snap judgments about you based on what they see—it’s hard to shake that. The first time I took the chance and came out to someone I was into it was terrifying.”

“I remember,” I say. “That guy you met in that club in Austin. He wore eyeliner. It wasn’t much of a gamble.”

Stewart smiles. “It was still taking a chance. All I’m saying is that maybe Ty wasn’t sure he could trust you with something so important.”

“Why wouldn’t he trust me?” I lean over the table. “He saw me naked. I told him everything.”

“Yeah,” Stewart says. “And then he met Gramps. Come on—even you have to admit he’s a bit much. That man could make anyone’s testicles shrink back into their body.”

I put my forehead in my hands. It feels like Gramps’ words are still echoing. “You should have heard what Gramps said to Ty on my birthday. It was really awful. As mad as I was, all I wanted was for him to stop. No wonder Ty paid the money back so fast. I know he didn’t have it in the bank—I still wonder where he got all that cash.”

Stewart shrugs and pops another fry into his mouth. I know guilty when I see it.

“What? Where did he get the money?”

“How should I know? That boy doesn’t tell me anything.”

I don’t say a word, just cross my arms and stare him down.

“Fine,” Stewart says, pushing the plate away. “He sold the bike.”

I feel a sudden sense of loss. “The Triumph? Why? He loves that bike!”

“Maybe,” Stewart says, his eyes on mine. “He loves you more.”

I don’t say anything because I have no answer for that. Hearing Ty say it that day almost killed me and it took everything I had not to say it back. Not to jump into his arms and forgive him everything. We bus our table and walk through the Union to the quad outside. It’s a gorgeous Texas afternoon and there are people all over the grass, some studying, some just lying back and enjoying the sunshine.

“You sure you won’t come to the game with me? I’ll buy you a churro.”

“No,” I say. “I can’t. But I’m glad the scout is coming to see him. I hope things work out for Ty.”

“You say that like it’s so final,” Stewart says.

“It is.” My eyes wander over the people on the grass and settle on a couple sitting halfway up the hill under a tree. Ty and some blond girl, sitting way too close together for this to be just a casual thing. I always could spot him in a crowd. “Shit.”

“What?” Stewart says, looking around.

“Nothing,” I say, turning away so that he won’t see the stupid tears that have sprung up in my eyes. Even seeing Ty for a second makes me realize that I don’t care who his parents are—there’s a big empty hole in my life where he used to be. Where he should be.