Spiral (29 page)

No way
, I tell myself.
I’ll only end up looking like an ass or getting into some kind of fight.

I wait a few moments by the sink, taking deep breaths and reassuring myself that I can handle Cherie’s antics and not lose my cool. I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them, I vow to ignore her for the rest of the night. I’ll find Carly and Mica and enjoy their company, hopefully forget Cherie is even there.

I stride out to the club’s center confidently, and I notice Cherie and her friends are planted in the middle of the dance floor again, grinding on each other and moving provocatively for all of their lolling-tongued spectators. I order a beer from the bar and climb the stairs, determined to stay true to my own promise.

“Jack!” Carly calls when she sees me approaching. They are coming back down to the main floor and meet me in the middle of the stairwell. “The upstairs room is playing lame house music. We were just coming back to find you!”

“Same here,” I laugh. “Great minds think alike.”

She beams and bats her long, flirting lashes.

Mica points to my drink and raises his own beer bottle. “Yes!” he laughs, and we clink bottles. “Now it’s a party! Drink your troubles away, playa!”

I nod and turn to follow them. Carly takes my hand in hers and parades through the crowded bar area, pulling my hand up to rest on her hip as we walk. It’s a bold, possessive move, and now she has my full attention. When we get back down to the lower floor, Carly guides me toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me!” she pleads. I nod and take a big swig of my beer. I haven’t danced with a girl in a long time, but I’m more than game at this point. I pull her close, letting the sweet scent of her hair sweep over my face. She moves with the beat, and I shadow her motions blindly. She rolls her hips in circles and presses her back to me. A deep hunger churns inside my groin. I close my eyes, lost in the moment.

I open them only to find Cherie dancing nearby. Her eyes catch mine, and she forces an arrogant grin. Then, she looks over at Amber and scowls. Amber gives Carly a death glare. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Cherie was actually getting jealous.

Carly yanks my vision back into focus by turning around to face me and pouts, as if she knows I was distracted. I grab her small waist and pull her closer, and then I’m ripped back into Cherie’s world by a whooping crowd. Cherie is running her hands up and down Danika’s body. I’m pulled in and out of monitoring Cherie’s situation by Carly’s teasing hips as they trace figure eights against mine and send shudders through me. My hunger whips into a frenzied starvation, causing my fingers to dig into her waist. She bites her lower lip and pins me with one of those “I want you now” stares.

Another dull roar of cheering buffoons snaps me out of the trance. I scan the crowd that’s formed around Cherie. Striped-Shirt lurks close by with eyes narrowed into slits like a snake. He’s ready to strike, and I feel my muscles stiffen. This time, Danika and Amber do not send him the message to back off.

Cherie glances over at me, probably expecting me to foam at the mouth like the rest of her fans. Instead, I turn my full attention back to Carly, keeping in time with her. When I glance up again at Cherie, her eyes are burning a hole into the back of Carly’s head.

And that’s when Striped-Shirt moves in for the kill.

He begins grinding hard against Cherie’s body as though they were
this-close
to being naked. She steps away to put space between them and pretends to laugh it off, but he draws an arm around her waist and pulls her tight against him. My hunger flares into anger as I watch his hand fan out along her lower abdomen. The tips of his fingers graze a part of her I know he shouldn’t touch. I pause, and my limbs quake with fury.

Carly follows my gaze. “What is it?”

But I’m barely conscious of Carly now. The position of Striped-Shirt’s hand has triggered panic in Cherie, and her face contorts with discomfort. She squirms, but he is strong and holds her tight against him, smiling and saying something into her ear as if they’re old friends. She pulls and pushes, and his hand drifts lower, until finally she throws an elbow into his ribs with a shriek.

“Get off of me!”

He doubles over, clutching his side. “Hey!” he yells. “Why are you being such a bitch?”

Like dynamite, my rage explodes. Without thinking, I’m in motion, bulldozing through the crowd and immediately jumping between them. I draw back and swing my fist into his face. Striped-Shirt is off of his feet and splays backward like a crash-test dummy. Someone screams. My knuckles blaze with pain, but I pursue him anyway, until someone drags me back a step. Two guys, possibly his friends, come right for me. The bigger one aims a punch at my face that I dodge while the other tries to keep the peace by getting in the middle. Striped-Shirt returns with a vengeance, his mouth bleeding, his eyes blazing, and froth spitting from his mouth as he threatens me. Immediately, brave onlookers move forward to break up the fight, putting distance between all of us.

“If you ever touch her like that again, I’ll kill you,” I threaten him.

“Come on, kid, I’m right here!” Striped Shirt taunts.

Cherie cries, “Jack! Jack, stop! What are you doing?”

My teeth grind together, and I’m driving through the peace-making friend who tries to hold me back from killing Striped-Shirt. My eyes burn with fury.

“Try hitting me now, punk!” Striped-Shirt shouts. “I’m ready for you this time! C’mon!”

“Let’s go, then!” I reply over his short friend’s head.

Cherie grabs me. “Stop it, now!” She pulls me away, but I won’t back down. Striped-Shirt and his friend are ready to fight, and they continue to taunt me. Mica and D’shawn shove through the crowd to come to my aid.

“Stop him, please!” I hear Cherie beg my friends, and Mica swoops in to pull me further away from Striped-Shirt.

The bouncers, led by D’shawn’s cousin, are closing in, just as I calmly shake off the hands grabbing at me, including Cherie’s. I hold up my arms, showing surrender. Striped-Shirt and his friend still try to plunge through Peacemaker and the bouncers, who are forcing them back. The crowd joins the bouncers’ efforts, turning the dance floor into a pit of struggling bodies. The two shout curses at me, and I ignore them, but Mica shouts some choice words back in my defense.

Danika takes Cherie’s hand roughly and drags her away from the crowd as it grows more violent and chaotic, and now the cameras are really snapping away at both of us.

“Cherie, is he your boyfriend?” a man calls, taking a video of her. I viciously swipe the camera from out of his hand and glare at him.

“Jack!” she nearly scolds. She looks furious. I obediently go to her side. “Let’s go. Now.” She grabs my arm once again. She hastily leads me through the crowded club to a hallway that opens to a set of bouncers guarding hidden back doors. They step aside and let us through, eying me as if they know I’m the cause of the fight. Mica follows, too, using his manners and charm to distract them. We emerge from the club into an alley.

“Wait – where are we?” I ask, looking around.

“Getting out of here, and fast!” she mutters. “What were you thinking – you could get arrested!”

Only then does it hit me: Cherie is desperately trying to sneak me out of the club because I could be in serious trouble.

But I’m only in this mess because she had to act like a complete slut tonight.

I stalk forward and away from Cherie as fast as my legs will take me; my jaw is as tight with anger as my chest is with anxiety. I ball my hands into fists, even the one that feels broken. Mica is at my side, trying to calm me down.

“Dawg, what happened?” he asks, glancing back at Cherie and her friends.

“Wait, Jack!” Cherie shouts feebly, trying to keep up with me in her stupid high heels. Danika growls something incoherent under her breath, and Amber is lagging behind all of us, typing on her cell phone.

“I’m sorry,” Cherie slurs under her breath. I won’t look at her.

“You shouldn’t ask for trouble in the first place,” I grumble.

Cherie is offended at the implication. “What are you talking about?” she demands defensively.

“You knew what you were doing,” I groan. “Winking at guys, dancing like that with Danika,
doing body shots
!”

I make the mistake of meeting her gaze. Cherie quickly tries to hide her satisfaction. Even Danika forgets her resentment for a moment to look back at her with a sly grin. My comment confirms that I’ve given her exactly what she wanted in the first place: attention. That little victory gives her nerve, and it infuriates me even more.

She taunts, “I don’t know what you are trying to say, but it’s not my fault some guys can’t control themselves – ”

I turn on Cherie then, my body looming over hers, enraged. I feel a primitive urge to physically shake sense into her, and I have to lock my hands at my sides to avoid grabbing her. She instinctively shies backward, shocked and frightened.

“Do I look like an idiot to you?” I bellow. Mica steps in and puts a hand against my chest to hold me back. I must look like I’m about to pummel her next, but I’m fuming and don’t care. “I saw everything! You’re just as much to blame! What, do you want guys to drool over you until some fool like me has to jump in and fight them off – is that it?”

“I didn’t expect you to fight with anyone!” she tries to say, but I won’t hear it. I’m a pot that’s finally boiled over.

“What do you expect from me, huh? Do you expect me to look the other way when you’re practically inviting guys to mess with you? You sleep in my bed, for Christ’s sake!”

The alley is silent; even her friends gawk at me. Apparently, only we knew this secret. I know I shouldn’t unveil everything, but I have lost my filter completely, along with my patience.

She’s mortified, her voice trembling. “I’m not your girlfriend, Jack. I can do whatever I want.”

My voice is guttural. “If you’re going to pretend there’s nothing going on between us, at least have the decency to do it behind my back, not right in front of my face.”

Her stare is frigid. I feel an explosion is imminent, but I’m not sure which one of ours will have the most impact.

“I didn’t think you would get like this over one of our dumb guy friends–”

“
Friend
? That guy is your
friend
? Friends shouldn’t touch you like that. I don’t touch you like that!” I yell.

“I never asked you to, and I certainly never asked him! I was just having fun, Jack,” she insists, humiliation filling her cheeks with pink. “He went too far –”

“He went too far because you asked for it!” I lower my voice and growl, “If you don’t want guys to disrespect you, you should try to have some respect for yourself!”

“Don’t talk to me like that – you’re not my father!” she shouts.

“Well he’s not here, so someone’s got to step in!” I growl back. I press my mouth shut and instantly regret the comment. Her face crumbles, but she quickly recovers herself, as if she remembers she’s surrounded by an audience.

Mica whistles low; he knows I’ve crossed a big line. It adds more fuel to her smoldering fire.

“Oh, yeah?” Her face turns beet red, and tears well in her eyes that she tries hard to blink back. “Where’s your dad, Jack? Oh, that’s right – he ran away because he didn’t love you!”

I’m quiet for a moment, trying to understand why it feels like the ground is being pulled out from under my feet. Her words fill my ears, and my mouth hangs slack.

She knows she’s got me, and she goes in for the kill. “At least my dad is dead.
Yours
hates you so much he
chose
to leave and never looked back!” Cherie spits. She races off, her heels tapping on the concrete, her friends chasing after her.

Mica curses low and quiet, like he feels the growing tsunami inside of me and knows his hand is not going to be enough to hold me back. Her words slice into my very being and release the dark, rabid animal that bursts out. I roar loudly and start to chase after her. I don’t get too far before Mica is on me, grabbing my arms and pulling me into a tight, frantic embrace, preventing me from going forward. I get one arm loose and swing at him, but he is able to dodge it and secures my arms to my sides again. I twist but can’t escape his hold.

I can’t escape period. I can’t run fast enough to get away from the four years’ worth of emotion that rises up into my throat from my gut and burns the air in my lungs. Mica is desperate to help, but he can’t communicate with me now. I drop down to the concrete and bury my head in my hands, fighting an uphill battle against the words that echo in my ears.

Unloved. Abandoned.
The words are screamed at me by unseen banshees that suddenly swirl around my head. I want to close the door on them, but now that Cherie’s opened it, I don’t have the strength. I’d been dodging those words for four years, but Cherie Belle hurled them at me in half of a second. She went and shined the biggest light she could find on the skeletons in my closet, illuminating my worst fears and dragging them out from the darkness.

How does she do that? How does she know what to say to completely debase someone without a single ounce of regret?

Mica’s down by my side, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. I sigh heavily and fight the tears hard. This can’t happen here; not in front of Mica, not here in the street. I can’t let her win like that.

Cherie warned me. I should have listened. I should have known that she meant it when she said I’d better watch out. Stupid pranks aside, the girl had a penchant for really using my worst insecurities against me. The Cherie Belle Mean Machine knows no bounds, and she finally found what she needed to truly break me.

It takes me a long time to recover enough that I can get to my feet.

“Sorry,” I croak, grateful I didn’t cry but feeling anything but victorious.

“Nah man, I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say.” I take a woozy step forward.

Mica holds my arm to steady me and murmurs, “C’mon, let’s get you home, dawg.” And, for the first time since we’ve met, Mica is speechless.