The Tramp (The Bound Chronicles #1) (12 page)

The cool ivory pool balls scattered in front of her, rebounded, and rolled back against her arms in sweet rhythm.

chapter thirteen

“Yo man, let’s roll.” Larry hollered down into the cellar, banging his fist on the door. “Finish up your whore’s bath, we gotta move out.” He mounted the stairs two at a time and hopped into the cab of the truck, already idling at the summit. Sam Castle’s wet head popped up through the ground. As he jogged up the steps, Amanda caught an exciting glimpse of his naked, tattooed chest before he pulled a T-shirt over his head.

A nipple ring. He’s even dirtier than I hoped.
“Hi, Sam,” she called across the yard from the door of Big Joe’s grocery. He looked around with a smile, searching for the origin of the female voice. When he recognized Amanda, he jerked his head back around and returned a perfunctory wave without breaking stride. He jumped into the passenger seat of the waiting truck and slammed the door.

Lindsay watched the truck pull away in a swirl of dust. “He seemed nervous.”

“I told you—we had a moment,” said Amanda. “He was bewildered. You should have seen him blush.”

They both sniggered and clasped hands, heading back to Lindsay’s family Land Rover.

“What are you gonna do? Do you think you guys will be together this year?”

“Please, my dad would freak if he found out. I feel sorry for poor Sam already, don’t you dare mention a word to anybody.”

“Oh, sorry…”

“Well, I mean, you can talk about it with
me
.”

“He’s totally hot, Amanda,” Lindsay restarted on cue. “Did you kiss or anything?”

“I am not saying. I don’t kiss and tell. But, I will tell you that he is one dirty boy.” They burst into a fit of whispered giggling together, waving their hands like little birds to quell the uproar. The charade reminded Amanda of her mother enough to almost make her puke, but she needed to play the part Lindsay loved best.
Like a tasty salt-lick to grab a little calf’s attention. Moo.

“Have you ever seen him with Candy Vale? I saw the two of them together at the river’s edge earlier this summer. You don’t think they’re a couple, do you? What if he’s the unfaithful type?”

“Unfaithful? He’s what—seventeen, eighteen? I doubt he’s said any vows.”

“You know what I mean, don’t mess with a guy that cheats.”

It didn’t matter who Sam Castle was currently dating. Amanda would make sure he wasn’t for long. “They’re not together. Candace Vale is a total lesbian, Lindsay. Can’t you tell?”

“What? Are you serious? How do you know?”

“Please.” Amanda held up her hand for patience. “Don’t you know a lesbian when you see one? Look at her hair, look at her clothes. She rides a dirt-bike? She even races in motocross, I heard. That’s code for ‘I’m a dike.’”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“How do you think one lesbo meets another?”

“Right.”

“Well, anyway,” Amanda reassured her, “trust me, I know. I’ve…heard things.”

“Like what? You mean—“

“You girls, what are you gossiping about?” Lindsay’s mom was heading towards the parking lot with two arms full of groceries.

“Sssshhhhh,” Amanda hissed, drawing a finger across her neck. “Aunt Meghan, that looks so heavy. Lindsay, come on, let’s help your mom.”

Amanda passed the proffered grocery bag to Lindsay and took her aunt’s purse off her shoulder. “Here, it’s so hard finding your keys sometimes,” she lectured, digging through the woman’s purse. “You should make it easier on yourself and get them out beforehand. Hook them on your belt loop, like this.” She pulled the largest key fob through a loop on her aunt’s jeans and pushed the unlock button.
Beep beep.

“Oh, good idea.” Aunt Meghan sounded annoyed, familiar with her niece’s condescension. “Thank you, little darlin’,” she shot back, but Amanda didn’t care. Her aunt loved her unconditionally and the show was for Lindsay.

“Aunt Meghan, don’t you think you can spot a lesbian about a mile off?”

“Hhhmmm, I don’t know that I’ve met many lesbians, Mandy.”

“We know, don’t we, Lindsay?” Amanda ignored the nickname taunt.

“Yeah, Mom. We can spot them a mile away.”

Amanda knew Lindsay always felt bonded by a shared secret. She rolled her eyes at Aunt Meghan’s back as she headed to the front of the car, then smiled conspiratorially at Lindsay, who nodded and stifled her humor behind her hand.

“All buckled in, girls?” Meghan pointed the air conditioner back towards them, adjusting her side mirrors and checking her reflection in her visor.

“Yeah.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Amanda corrected her cousin, catching her aunt’s eye in the rearview mirror.

The Land Rover pulled out of the town center, tires squealing, and headed for the state highway leading southwards down the valley along the river. The small collection of buildings clinging to the peninsular hillside gave way to wide-open fields, with only a single country house nestled here and there. They sped over the bridge across the Tenakho River, and followed the road into the foothills of Western Mountain, where the houses were more densely packed, with smaller, manicured lawns and gardens. The Land Rover pulled into the driveway of a spacious stucco house, sitting between mirror-image dwellings that differed only slightly in tint and architectural details.

“They certainly are large and bright, though,” Aunt Meghan muttered, as though in the middle of a thought. “And brand new. No old pipes or drafty corners like we have, I’ll bet.”

“Excuse me, Aunt Meghan?”

“You’re always listening, aren’t you, honey? So girls, Mrs. Ryan will be bringing you girls back here after your shopping trip, okay?” Meghan brought the car to an idle in the driveway. “Amanda, you’re spending the night with us, so I’ll take you to get your toothbrush and everything on the way to our place.”

“Only if that’s okay with you, ma’am.”

“Of course, it is. Right, mom?” Lindsay whined.

“Yeah, honey,” said her aunt, obviously straining for patience. Amanda narrowed her eyes at the back of her head as the two teenagers tumbled out of the car, in a continuous stream of gossip, grabbing purses and primping. Aunt Meghan already had the car in reverse before they reached the cobblestone pathway leading to the front door.

What is her problem?
Amanda wondered where she had slipped up and resolved to pour on the sugar later that night to make up for it.

“Lindsay, make sure you get sensible shoes this time. And new panties, and a bra. I think you need the next size up, honey.”

“Mom,” Lindsay screeched, going almost purple. “I can handle it.”

“Well, it’s my money—don’t waste it,” her mom hollered from the street, then raised the window and drove off with a wave from inside.

“Yeah, Lindsay. I think you might be in store for a new
bra
.”

“Whatever, wishful thinking.” Lindsay, who was slight of frame and rather small chested, folded her arms over her chest and sulked. Amanda bounded up the stairs to the heavy oak door, coming to an abrupt stop at the summit that made her own large breasts bounce in her clinging blouse. Lindsay trudged up behind her, her mood considerably soured. Amanda looked back just in time to see her cousin eyeing her rear-end with a look of satisfaction; she knew she had been growing wider in that region over the last year. Lindsay brushed her hands over her own perky ass in her skinny jeans, and prepared her face for the opening of the door.

“Hi!” Gracie screamed, ripping the door open and scooping Amanda into a hug.

“Easy there, tiger.” Amanda readjusted her clothes as Gracie enveloped Lindsay next.

“I am so happy to see you guys.” Their friend had spent most of the summer away on a European vacation with her extended French family.

“We’ve missed you, so much. Tell us about Europe.” Lindsay had been eager for dish all summer, Shirley County fun having fizzled out early, after the Chad Matthews tryst.

How long do we need to wait here on the stoop? Rich people with absolutely no manners are disgusting.
“Is Jessica here, yet? It’s so hot out here, Gracie.”

“Sorry—come in, of course. Yeah, she’s online, in my room.” The chilly air inside was a gift from heaven. Or from Mr. Ryan’s deep pockets. Whatever worked. “You guys thirsty or hungry? My mom won’t be ready for a few minutes. Mom, Lindsay and Amanda are here.”

Lindsay shook her head, “Thanks, we just ate at Big Joe’s.”

Is all you ever think about eating, Gracie?
“I’m good, what are you guys doing online?”

The three trouped through the house, shoes clicking against the Mexican tiles. Their voices echoed through the cavernous front room and Amanda gazed through the panoramic windows at the manicured back yard. Even with all the expensive art and furniture from their travels, and the plants filling ceramic pots or hanging from artful baskets everywhere, the entryway seemed monstrous. The ceiling soared to almost thirty feet above their heads, with two higher stories jutting into the main room in lofts and alcoves, climaxing with a sunroof at the apex that filtered natural light.

Overcompensating. Mr. R probably has a tiny little peter.

“Hey, y’all.” Jessica peeked her head over the railing of an upstairs loft. “I was just telling Gracie about the Italian foreign exchange student—I found him online.”

“No way.”

“What’s he look like?”

The girls rushed up the carpeted steps, their bags and purses thudding against the walls, and their shoes suddenly muffled in the tight stairwell. They tumbled into Jessica sitting at the desk in front of a large flat-screen display.

“Is he cute?” asked Lindsay.

“What about Mark, Lindsay? Save some for the rest of us—you’ve been with the hottest guy on the football team since day one of freshman year.”

“He’s leaving for Florida State in two weeks, Gracie. That’s so unfair. I need to get my mind off of him, don’t I?”

Jessica began, as if on cue, “Tristan’s the hottest anyway—”

“Gross!” Amanda hated that all her friends creamed their panties over her brother. It did give her some clout, but she hadn’t found a way to use it to her advantage yet.

“Gracie, what do you care, anyway?” Jessica went on. “Martin would never let his precious little sister date someone in his grade. Your parents would freak, too.”

“I know.” Gracie loved to defer to that excuse, rather than admit that no guy would date her anyway. “Well, what does Antonio look like? What’s his profile say?”

“It’s not really his profile, it’s his band’s page. Band looks cool, though. They have lots of fans,” Jessica said, scrolling down the page in illustration.

Amanda plopped down on the bed, no longer interested. “Band guys are so self-involved. He’ll probably be missing his boys and playing air guitar the whole time he’s here.”

“No, he’s the drummer.”

“Mmm, that’s a little better…”

“Drummers are so sexy,” Lindsay agreed. “So masculine and powerful.”

“Yeah, but that’s why you never get a good look at his face.” Jessica clicked through chaotic photos in dark bars; most of the clear shots were of the lead singer, who was not really handsome but definitely attractive. He was always clutching the microphone, his features frozen in a wailing grimace. “Antonio’s so far in the back, and like banging his head and thrashing his drum sticks all the time. He’s always a little blurry.”

Amanda pooh-poohed. “Banging his head?”

“Well, I mean, not in a head-banger kind of way, but just getting into it, you know? Looks like a glam band. They’re kind of cool.”

“Sounds cool to me,” said Gracie. Everything sounded cool to Gracie. “What’s the name of the band?”

“Il Vagabondo. I already Googled it—that’s Italian for ‘The Tramp’,” Jessica replied, raising her eyebrows mischievously.

“What’s that mean?”

“You need Dictionary.com, Gracie?” Amanda laughed.

“No, I mean, like a slut? I know what ‘tramp’ means.”

“Tramp,” Jessica read aloud, clicking over to the reference page she had already searched, ‘A firm, heavy, resounding tread. The sound made by such a tread. A long, steady walk; trudge. A hike.’ It doesn’t mean slut.”

Lindsay frowned. “Weird, that’s kind of ominous.”

“It means ‘slut’ in my book.”

“Oh, Gracie.” Amanda pinched her friend’s plump tummy. “What’s that book, the Bible? You’re such a prude. Don’t worry, Martin won’t ever find out Antonio’s your new shower nozzle masturbation material.”

“What? My gosh, Amanda.”

“Oh, come on, we all do it.”

“My brother probably thinks I don’t even have one,” Gracie stammered, going pink.

“Trust me, Martin knows about girl parts,” said Amanda. “Even though I doubt he’s ever seen one. In the flesh, if you will.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” Gracie plugged her ears as the other girls howled. It was no secret that her brother wasn’t a lady’s man.

“I think it’s romantic,” Jessica said in her deep, husky, Southern drawl that Amanda would have killed for. “I mean, he’s in this band named after basically the need to roam, and here he is, traveling to Shirley County. What are we in for, girls?”

Their laughter died, and the silence loomed, as Jessica clicked through snapshots. The girls closed in around the magnetic screen.

chapter fourteen

Candy looked at her watch again. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled to Sam’s last text:
“if not there by 7 probably won’t get there today”
. It was 7:30.

She slapped a mosquito on her shoulder. There wasn’t much going on in Buffalo Square on a Thursday night.
Shoulda gone over to Ender’s Village to see if they’re doing anything there.
But she really didn’t want company. Not from anyone but Sam.

The air was muggy in the courtyard in summertime, but she wandered in that direction all the same. She had been thinking about that painting of the Sendalee woman. Sam was so sure that Candy was somehow related to her.

Do my eyes really look like that? She was so exotic.

Not the hair, obviously. She ran her fingers through her own. Candy’s thick red shag was still damp from her shower, even after the ride into town on her bike. And she was so fair. She looked down at her arms, pale as milk, in the gloaming.

But my eyes?
He called them fathomless. That was exactly how she felt staring into Sam’s eyes. Though she tried not to stare (difficult as that was), she often felt lost in them.
Fathomless…

Without warning, the front door to the Buffalo Lodge opened.

Crap!

She was jolted out her reverie and she cast about to find something that would explain her loitering in front of the lodge. She couldn’t run away. Too obvious and childish. There was nothing close-by but the bronze buffalo, so she busied herself looking at its plaque.

Ms. Collins closed the door behind her. The tinkling of a grand piano and throaty masculine dialogue bellowing over some televised sports game tumbled outside, an echo of the hubbub within filtering through the stained glass paneling of the front entrance. She picked her way down the old stone steps, watching her feet while Candy’s color skyrocketed in embarrassment.

“Why, Candace Vale. Hello there.”

“Er. Hello, ma’am.”

“Can I help you with something?”

The entrance to the lodge was far enough away from anything else in Buffalo Square that Candy’s presence there would obviously seem strange. “Oh, just…you know. Doing some research.” She studied the plaque harder hoping for the look of taking mental notes.

“Research? That’s nice to hear.”

“Well, my hometown and all.”

“You won’t find much history there, I’m afraid. The buffalo is simply an icon borrowed from the organization. No buffalos ever roamed here.”

“Yeah, of course,” Candy guffawed, feeling examined under the woman’s searching gaze, even though classes hadn’t even started yet.

“What were you looking for, exactly, dear?”

Oh, no.
How could she have been so stupid as to talk about research with the resident history teacher? Now she’d have to come up with something that made sense. After all, she’d have to see Ms. Collins every day for the rest of the school year. Such a champion for education was sure to follow up. “I guess, just the early stuff. Like the Native American history.”

“How wonderful. You’ll hear plenty about that in History III, I assure you.”

“Oh? Cool.”

“Not much in the library over there,” she motioned to the used bookstore. The top floor of the converted Victorian house was a tiny library. “But, my own library is quite extensive.”

A birdcall sounded from Candy’s pocket. New text. “Excuse me,” she said as she fumbled for her phone.

“meet me there”
was the message, from Sam.

Her heart skipped a beat and she punched in,
“ok”
. Send.

“A summons?”

“Oh.” Candy looked up to see a knowing smile. “I’m sorry. I forgot I promised to be somewhere.”

“I understand. Until next Monday, Candace.”

“Sure. Bye, Ms. Collins,” she called over her shoulder as she raced towards her bike.