Threat (18 page)

“I...I should go after him,” she
says weakly, her shaking hands cupping her face.

My dad shakes his head. “And you're not
in any shape for it. Not right now.”

“
I'll
go talk to him,” I say as I push away from the table.

“Um, you know, it might be better if he
talks to someone man to man.”

“Look, I’ve spent the last couple
of days with him and I kind of know what he's going through. I really
think it's best that I go after him.”

My dad sighs. I don't think you're going to get
through to him.”

“I know, but just let me try, okay?”

They glance at each other. Janet nods and my
dad, reluctantly extends his hand giving me the okay.

I rush out of the dining room, through the
house and to the front porch, hoping to catch him before he takes off
for good. “Threat?” I holler the second I get outside.
The first thing I notice is that his motorcycle is still here, which
is a good sign—he hasn’t gone too far. But when I survey
the area there isn't a sign of him anywhere. It's getting dark now,
but I can see down the road for at least a mile as I head down the
trail; it might as well be a ghost town.

After a good fifteen minutes of searching the
shore I'm about to give up. There are only so many places he could be
in an area like this. How far could he have gotten in such a short
time? Thankfully, the lake is pretty safe, even at night, but I'm
wandering a bit too far from home for comfort.

No. I need to stop making excuses. I promised I
would talk to Threat, and that's what I'm going to do.

I push a little bit further, and then I see
something at the end of the next pier. I get closer and it resembles
the form of a person. That's got to be him, who else would be out
here alone and without a boat this late? I recognize the back of his
head when I make my way down the pier. I know he can hear me as I
come up behind him but he doesn't even budge. He just sits there,
tossing pebbles into the water like a child who just threw a tantrum.

“You know, throwing rocks into the lake
doesn’t actually do anything. You're supposed to skip them,”
I say, planting myself firmly behind him.

He picks up another one out of his other hand
and lets it plop into the water. “Yeah? I don't care. I like
the way it looks when it splashes. Ever think of that, Ms. Smarty
pants?”

Typical Threat. I take a seat next to him, my
legs dangling off the edge just like his, but he doesn't turn to
acknowledge me.

“If my mom sent you out here to fetch me
you can tell her to go to hell.”

I let out a loud sigh and shake my head. “She
didn't.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Uh, maybe because I want to be? Why are
you so damn hard on your mom?”

“She's a whore.”

I groan with disgust. “Will you please,
please
,
stop calling women bitches and whores?”

He finally looks at me and says, “You
weren't exactly complaining when I called your mom a bitch.”

Well he's got me there. “Look, your mom
obviously loves you.”

“Bullshit.”

“You really don't believe that she loves
you?”

“I'm not having this conversation with
you, Leah.”

I put my hand on his arm, stopping him from
throwing another stone. “Just answer the question. Do you
honestly believe that your mother doesn't love you?”

“It's not about that. You don't even know
half of the shit she's done. You're sticking your nose where it
doesn't belong.”

“But I know that she's trying, and you
won't even let her be better!”

He scoffs. “What, you think I should be
nice to my mom just because you don't have one?”

His words sting like acid. I don't even know
how to respond to that. “That's
really
rude, Threat.”

He shrugs. “So? I thought you were over
it. Your mother doesn't want you, and you don't care. So why does it
matter if I remind you?”

I question my sanity—am I really hearing
this? Does he realize how cruel and disgusting his words are?

“Look, this isn't about me or my mother—”

“It is. You of all people should know
blood doesn't mean shit. You won't even acknowledge your own mother
rejecting you. But you come out here, and you expect me to talk about
my
feelings?”

“You know what? Forget it
.
I came out here to help you—”

“This doesn't have anything to do with
me, it has to do with you!”

I climb to my feet because I'm officially done
with his shit, once and for all. “Fuck you. You're a fucking
asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm an asshole. We've
established that many times over.”

“And it was an asshole thing for you to
do to take me there. It was so far beyond an asshole thing to do, it
was fucking cruel!

He hops up to his feet, towering over me. I
wish more than anything I could shove him right into the lake but
he's a brick wall. “Are you sure you're really mad at me? Or
are you mad at her because she doesn't want you?”

Tears sting my eyes. “You're a piece of
shit!” My fists colliding against his chest. “You just
want everyone else to fucking hurt because you hurt.”

“Yeah, I hurt. I know that and I admit
it. But do you?” he says. “Believe me, if anyone knows
how bad bottling shit up is, it's me.”

“Everything was fine until you had to
stick your fucking nose where it didn't belong. She was gone for
decade and I was fine with it.”

“Yeah? And that's why you invited her to
your graduation.”

My lips tremble as I try to force the words
out. “I just thought she...”

He steps closer to me. “You just thought
what?”

I shake my head, attempting to turn away but he
takes me by the arms and makes me face him. “I thought...I
thought if I were perfect she would want me.” It hurts to
admit, and it hurts even more realizing she never will. Threat pulls
me in against his body, and a flood of my tears stain the front of
his shirt. “I thought if I did everything right, became the
kind of person she thought I never could, that she would come back.”

He buries his hand in my hair and clutches me
tight against him. With his lips pressed tight against my forehead he
whispers, “And now you can let that go.”

I don't quite understand what he means, not
until I look up into his eyes. For the first time I see him without
any pretense; I see David, and not Threat. The last of my tears fall
down my cheeks, leaving behind only a remnant of their existence.

*

Sometimes I forget just how bright the stars
can shine. You can't see them in their fully glory back in Nevada.
But here, they're vibrant bursts of white light against a velvety
canvas of navy and black sky. When Threat slips his hand into mine,
our fingers interlaced, I swear I see them flicker that much
brighter.

“Hey, Leah,” he says, laying beside
me on the pier.

“Hmm?” I mumble, rolling my head to
the side to face him.

I feel his hand tighten around mine. His lips
open as if he wants to say something but can't find the words.

“What's wrong?” I ask with concern.

He closes his eyes tight and lets out a breath.
“Nothing.”

“That seems like a whole lot of nothing.”

He chuckles, his eyes meeting mine in the
darkness. “Truth or dare.”

That's probably the last thing I expected him
to say. “You've got to be kidding me.”

He shakes his head. “I'm not.”

“Are we still playing that game?”

“We never finished.”

I groan, which turns into a laugh. “Truth.”

“You pick dare. And your dare is to steal
that boat right down there,” he says, pointing to a tiny canoe
tied to the pier.

“You want me to steal a boat? That's my
dare?”

He nods. “Or you can dare me to steal it,
either way, I don't care.”

I sit back up and look down at him. “If
you wanted to go on the water why didn't you tell me? My dad has a
boat just a few piers down.”

“Of course he does,” he mutters,
rolling his eyes.

With a giggle I nudge his shoulder. “Stop.”
I jump to my feet, pulling him up with me. “Come, this way,
I'll show you.”

“Now tell me, is there anything your dad
doesn't
have?” Threat asks as we make our way down the pier and around
the lake. “Should I expect a trip on his private jet anytime
soon?”

With all seriousness, I turn back to him and
ask, “Which one?” It's convincing, but I can't hold a
straight face the second his goes blank. “I'm kidding! I
swear,” I admit through my fit of laughter.

Threat lets out a breath of relief. “You
know, I would have believed it too.”

“You
did
believe it. He doesn't have a whole
fleet, just one.”

His eyes narrow, and I just can't suppress the
smirk that threatens to break my poker face.

“Haha, nice try,” he says, shaking
his head.

“I couldn't help it. The look on your
face was priceless,” I add. “Maybe tomorrow I can give
you a tour of his submarine. And after that, his helicopter.”

“Funny. Knowing you, there's a yacht
around here somewhere with Colin's name on it.”

I shake my head and point to the end of the
pier we're approaching. “Nope, just a little sailboat right
there called Lele.”

Threat stops in his tracks and I practically
have to drag him along. “
That's
a little sailboat?”

“I mean, there are bigger ones on this
lake. Believe me.”

He scoffs. “Must be nice to be rich.”

“My dad is rich, not me,” I remind
him. “And you can be just as successful as him one day. We all
can.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something a rich
kid would say.”

“But it's true.”

“Oh yeah? What am I going get rich
doing?”

I shrug. “You're an artist. All you have
to do is work hard at it.”

“Right.”

As we get to the end of the pier he stops, his
eyes going wide like a kid in a candy shop. “Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“That's a nice ass boat,” he says
before rushing towards the ropes. He swiftly unties the first before
moving to the next.

I place a hand on my hip and ask, “Just
what do you think you're doing?”

“I'm undocking the boat, obviously.”

“You know the boat is going to drift off
on to the lake, right?”

“Yup, with us on it,” he says as he
continues to untie.

“Well I sure hope you know how to sail
this thing because I sure don't.”

He flashes me a toothy grin as he hops up on
deck. “It's your lucky day sweetheart, because I do.”

He extends a hand to help me on and I'm
hesitant to take it.

“
You
know how to sail?”

“Damn straight I do.”

Now this I've gotta see. “I find that
really hard to believe, actually.”

He stands up straight and plants his hands on
his hips. “You don't think I know how to sail this boat?”

“You don't exactly seem like the sailing
type. Who exactly taught you how to sail?”

“I learned at summer camp.”

“Okay, you don't seem like the summer
camp type either.”

“Believe me, I wasn't. But when a camp
for 'at risk youth',” he says with finger quotes, “comes
calling, and your mom wants you out of her hair for a month and a
half, believe me, you become a summer camp type.”

“I see.”

He grins down at me. “Oh yes, you will
see. Are you coming or am I leaving you on the peer?”

“Well, considering the fact that you'd
technically be stealing my father's boat if I don't come along...why
not?”

I grab his hand and he helps me up on deck,

“Just leave this to me,” he says.
Next thing I know, we'll be sitting at the bottom of the lake.

But I let him do his thing anyways, taking a
seat as I watch him move about my father's boat like he owns it. He's
so confident and proud as he rigs up the sails—not in a cocky
way like he usually is, but in a way that tells me he really enjoys
what he's doing. I can't hide my smile as I watch.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?” he asks, looking back
over his shoulder at me.

“I'm shocked you know how to do something
other than tattoos and cursing.”

“Real funny,” he replies. “I'm
actually shocked that your father never taught you how to sail.”