To the Steadfast (3 page)

“Dakota Lombardi!”

I press my hands
against the cold metal of the chain and struggle against the handcuffs that dig
into my wrist.

“Dakota Lombardi?” A
man with a handlebar mustache and beer gut walks over. “Are you Dakota?”

“It’s Cody,” I snap,
still trying to wiggle my wrist out of the cuff. “And I demand to speak to my
lawyer.” I don’t have one, but what does this guy know? “And a phone call,
don’t I get one phone call?”

“You’re not being
arrested,” he snickers, making me struggle even harder. They’ve left me in here
for almost an hour while refusing to tell me what’s going on.

I give the old metal
desk beside me a good swift kick to get his attention. “Hey! Then why are you
holding me hostage you middle-aged freak? Where are my friends? Are they okay?
Tell me!”

“Quiet, Dakota.” My
father’s voice resonates through the small office causing me to stiffen. There
are two things in life that I hate more than anything else. My father being mad
at me and black olives.

“Thanks, Harry. I
appreciate you calling me in,” he says, stepping closer to me with a stern
face. A shiver goes down my spine as he shakes his head. He’s disappointed. He
doesn’t have to say it, I can tell.

“No problem, Doc. Since
she was only visiting the house, we won’t be charging her, but she should stay
away from there. We confiscated a few grand in drugs. Someone’s gonna be locked
up for a very long time.”

The two men smile like
they’ve just discovered a huge secret, but Crumb’s dealings were never all that
secret.

My father shakes
Harry’s hand. “Dakota is normally a good girl. She volunteers after school at
the hospital. She’s just attracted to lost causes. You know how young girls are,
always trying to save every stray dog they see.”

He did not just refer
to my friends as lost dogs. I scowl as Harry uncuffs me, making my wrists feel
a thousand times lighter.

My father only says two
words. “Home. Now.”

With my head down, I
scurry from the office. He doesn’t follow, but I pick up a few words.

“About this cop that
hit her. What is being done about it?”

 The main office is
filled with dozens of glass-divided cubicles, all mostly empty except for one.
Mischa sits with his hands behind his head, his dark hair in a tousled mess. A
shiver runs down me as I remember seeing him in his boxes earlier.
Now isn’t
the time to think about that.
I need to make sure Violet is okay. As I
approach, I see a small figure sitting on the floor by his feet.

“Violet,” I whimper,
running to her and wrapping my arms around her. “I didn’t know if you were all
right. Are you all right?”

Violet nods, but her
swollen eyes tell me she isn’t. Red stains the front of her pants and white
tank. Blood.
Whose blood?
 Her voice is hoarse as she speaks. “They’re
going away, for a long time. At least my dad is. I can’t even go home, we have
to go stay with my aunt for a few days. And they killed my dog, Cody. They shot
Domino because he jumped up to protect me.”

I pull her close and
look up at Mischa whose expression is empty. I can’t tell if he’s scared like
Violet or upset like me. So I’d saw Domino’s blood on the kitchen floor.

 He meets my gaze and
grimaces. “Your face, Cody.”

I touch my bruised
temple, knowing I can hide the mess of today under some good concealer. “It’s
not as bad as it looks. Don’t worry about me.”

He leans forward and
tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I was afraid he’d shot you. When I heard
the shots and came out to see blood on your face. I thought….”

I squeeze his knee with
my free hand. “I’ll come get you soon. We can forget this mess ever happened.”

“Dakota!” I turn my head
to my father, who is on the other side of the room.

“I’ve got to go.”

I run over to my father
and walk in sync behind him. Left, right. Left, right. Since his legs are so
long, I can’t seem to keep up with him.

“Grounded,” he says.

“But I have a date with
Aaron tonight,” I protest, hoping that he’ll at least allow me to hang out with
him.

His beeper vibrates
from his belt. He checks it and exhales slowly. “Fine, but you’re not to see
those kids anymore. Do you understand? If I even get a whiff that you are
hanging around that lowlife family, I’ll take your car and ship you off to
boarding school so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

Back at home, I fall
asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. At five o’clock, I’m awoken by
talking outside by the pool. I can make out my mom’s nasally laugh. I try and
sleep over it, but the damage has already been done.

Rolling out of bed, I
open my blackout curtains, letting my eyes adjust to the bright sun. She’s
having some sort of luncheon I didn’t know about. Not that my parents tell me
about their plans often. I had a nanny until I was twelve, but by then I was
old enough to take care of myself. My mother is one of those people who
believes appearances are everything, and since we’ve lived in Betty my whole
life, she insists the Lombardi family has a reputation to uphold. My father is
the head physician at our rural hospital. It’s great that he saves lives and
all, but it would be even better if he were around more. Before he took the job,
we actually did stuff as a family. A few trips here and there, dinners out, but
we haven’t done those types of things in a long time.

There are two parts of
our small town in Georgia. The community on the east side, where I live, and
the older houses on the west side, where Violet lives. The school, post office,
grocery, and Main Street are all that divide the two worlds. If my mom ever
caught me hanging out on the west side, she’d disown me, but I suppose that’s
what makes Violet’s house so appealing. I’d do anything just to get under my
mother’s skin.

In the kitchen, I grab
my favorite mug out of the cupboard and brew a cup of coffee. I pray my mom
stays outside until I’ve had a cup or two.

To my dismay, the back
door flies open. No such luck.

“Dakota, I didn’t
realize you were home.” Her voice is crisp like nails on a chalkboard.

“My car’s in the
driveway.” I turn away and fill my mug. My mother and I aren’t going through
some teenage crisis, we’ve never gotten along. I’m a minor annoyance on the
backburner of her life.

“I’m leaving for a
thing in New York in an hour. Your father wanted me to remind you to visit your
grandmother tomorrow. He’s heading to the city for a conference and doesn’t
know when he’ll be back.”

“Visit Nona, check.” I
shoot an imaginary bullet her way with my pretend finger gun. Nona is my
father’s mother—and not your typical old granny. She speaks her mind, listens
to rap music, and loves to dye her hair all different colors. I’m convinced my
parents put her in a retirement home because they were too embarrassed by her.
Not me though. She and I have always been close.

“Do me a favor and go
upstairs until I leave.” My mother checks her reflection in the microwave and
runs her fingers across the wrinkles on her forehead that are covered by a
pound of makeup. No matter how hard she tries to deny it, she’s getting older.
She’s not even mentioned my eventful morning. She probably doesn’t know I was
there, and I’m not about to tell her.

“Dear, have you seen my
drink?” a voice says, followed by a man walking through the French doors from
our back patio. When I recognize who it is, I almost spray my coffee across the
counter.

“Um, hello,
Senator
,”
I say to our next-door neighbor. The surprised look on his face tells me he
didn’t realize my mother had company.

“Dakota. How is
school?”

I scoff and hop off my
chair. “How’s your wife?”

I expect to leave him
stumbling over his words, but his smooth politician façade takes over.

“Your mother and I are
co-sponsoring a benefit for the hospital.”

I hide my ginormous eye
rolling behind my cup of coffee.

“Make Mr. Carmike an
expresso, Dakota.”

Her pronunciation
drives me nuts, but I guess that’s what happens when your lips are so full of
Botox. You can’t even speak properly. “Stop calling me Dakota and I might.”

“That is your name, is
it not? Besides, I refuse to call you by some boyish nickname. Now make him an
expresso.”

Since I’m the only one
who knows how to work it, I begin fiddling with the thousand-dollar machine that
I’d forced my father to buy me. “It’s espresso, Mother. Not
expresso
.”

“Oh, don’t be so
melodramatic. That’s what I said.”

I push the small cup
across the table. “Here you go,
Senator
.”

He picks it up and
takes a sip. “Thanks, dear.”

I take the rest of my
coffee and go back up to my room to nurse my hangover. I text Violet, worried
about where the police will send her and Mischa, but she doesn’t answer.

By the time my date
with Aaron rolls around, I’m feeling much more alert. I drive to the new apartment
he shares with a few other guys in his senior class. It’s near the college
where he will be attending in a few months, but not too far away. Betty is a
small town, population just under one thousand. On a weekend, we only have
ourselves to keep us company. That means parties. Lots and lots of parties.
Walking through the messy house, I push through the crowd into the living room. It’s
not hard to find Aaron with his friends, huddled around a pool table. He’s the
only one wearing a sports coat. Style over comfort, I’m sure he said that at
least six times on our first date. A cocky grin spreads over his face as I
approach.

“Aaron, I thought we
were going out for dinner.”

He leans against his
pool stick and runs his hand over his gelled back blond hair. “Sorry, babe. In
the middle of an important game. We’ll chill when I’m finished.”

It’s not surprising
he’d blow me off, but I’m a little annoyed and irritable from my lack of food.

“Okay, do you want me
to get you a drink?”

“What?” he yells over
the sound of the music.

“Never mind.”

I lean against the wall
as he goes back to his game and watch them hit stupid balls into small pockets.
If I don’t get some good company soon, this is going to be a long night. The
Cromwells are like a disco ball at a party. Everyone wants one there. They make
every party that much more interesting.

“Slow down there,
Dakota lOMBARDI.”
Mischa
pokes his head up from the backseat and breathes
heavily in my ear. He knows calling me by my full name annoys the crap out of
me.

“I’m trying to drive
here. I suggest you sit back and relax, Mischa Cromwell,” I say between gritted
teeth. Since I picked them up from their aunt’s house, Mischa has done nothing
but backseat drive and make us listen to his depressing rock music.

“What are we listening
to?” I ask.

“A Perfect Circle—this
is real music not that boy band crap you listen to.”

He tries to turn the
stereo dials, but I swat his hand away.

“I will cut you,
Mischa. Touch it again, and I will leave you crying for your mommy.”

“Wow, someone needs to
pull a biscuit from their ass.”

Violet and I exchange a
disgusted look before she turns to ease the tension in the car.

“Why are you so moody
tonight?”

Mischa scoffs. “No
reason. So you’re supposed to have a date with Mr. Wonderful.”

“Aaron,” I correct.

“Wonderful Aaron.” He
makes air quotes with his fingers. “You’re supposed to go on a date with him
and he throws a party instead? What a jerk. Why are you forcing us to go back
to this party with you? Just dump him already.”

“Because my dad likes
him,” I quip.

“Is your dad dating
him, too?” Mischa asks.

Violet hides a snicker
and pulls the mirror down from the roof to check her lipstick. “Cody likes to
see her daddy happy. She thinks it will make him like her more.”

“When did you become my
fucking therapist?” I spit out, gripping the steering wheel.

I speed up and veer off
the highway towards Aaron’s place. When we get there, it’s even more crowded
than before. Someone is hanging out of the upstairs window yelling and people
are loitering on the lawn. A game of slip and slide is happening along the side
of the house with a boogie board and a bunch of black trash bags.

Aaron comes barreling
up with arms wide as I pull in. “Babe, where have you been?”

When the back door
opens and Mischa stands, all six feet of him, Aaron stops short. He turns back
to me and pulls me close for a kiss. It’s not a romantic kiss, it’s a ‘she’s
mine’ type of kiss, a ‘back the fuck off’ kiss. No one would blame Aaron for
acting overprotective, Mischa is well known throughout town for his antics. I
feel Mischa’s eyes on me, so I let the kiss continue for longer than normal
because a part of me wants him to see me as desirable. When Aaron pulls back,
my face is flushed.

 “What’s up, man?”
Aaron holds a hand out for Mischa. The two guys exchange a territorial glance
for a brief second before Mischa’s eyes soften to his normal careless attitude.

“Hey, you Cody’s
boyfriend?”

Aaron laughs.
“Something like that.”

Boyfriend is too broad
a term. We’ve only been on a few dates, and our relationship hasn’t progressed
further than a steamy make out session. My call, not his.

Aaron puts an arm
around me and walks us into the kitchen. Violet has already attached herself to
the same guy from the night before, and Mischa has found a friend in the corner
of the room to chat with.

“Why are you hanging
out with Mischa Cromwell?”

Aaron hands me a drink
and I throw it back before looking him in the eyes. “What do you care?”

“I didn’t realize you
were seeing anyone else. That’s all.”

“I’m not. He’s Violet’s
brother.” I turn away from him and stare out into the crowd. He’s suddenly
become the least interesting person in the room. My eyes don’t leave Mischa as
he makes his way through the party, high fiving a few classmates and getting a
few hugs from some girls. The way he protected me this morning when that cop
hit me, I don’t know. I liked it. It made me feel safe. Not that I don’t always
feel safe with Mischa. He’s a constant in my life.

“The guy was about to
jump me when I kissed you.” Aaron takes a drink.

“Stop being paranoid.
I’ve known him a long time. Trust me, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

“Mischa is bad news,
Cody. I’m only looking out for you.”

“Thanks, but I can take
care of myself.” I slam my cup against his chest. “Besides, he’s not that bad.”

“That’s what they all
say.” He grabs my arm and tries to pull me toward the stairs. “Let’s go check
out my room.”

I pull away from him.
Being alone with him is just another excuse to pressure me to sleep with him,
and that’s not going to happen. “No, thank you.”

“Why are you being such
a tease, Cody?”

“I don’t know, maybe
it’s because I hardly know you. I told you I’m not ready to have sex with you.”

He backs up with his
hands in front of him. “I wanna be with you. Obviously, you don’t feel the same
way. I’m gonna go get another drink.” He disappears into the crowd, leaving me
completely shocked as to what just happened. This is totally going to be our
last date.

Walking over to a
dartboard, I convince some kids from school to start a match of drinking darts.
The rules are easy. If I hit the middle of the target, they take a shot and
vice versa. Too bad I’m the queen of darts. I don’t know what it is about
drinking games that I love so much. Maybe it’s the control or the competition
or maybe it’s just a lame excuse to get drunk. I grab the darts and aim,
swiftly throwing them through the air, each one hitting the middle circle of
the board. All the guys groan as they pour themselves a shot. After a few
rounds, I’m feeling good but bored.

“Sorry, guys, I’m
calling it a night.”

I walk away before they
can convince me to stay. Violet isn’t anywhere to be found, but I do see Mischa
on the porch talking to some redhead. They’re laughing but when he sees me
walking up, his face turns somber. He grabs my forearm in a protective stance.

“Hey, have you seen
Violet?” I ask.

“Yeah, she went
upstairs with some guy.”

Typical reckless
Violet. “And you let her go?”

He holds his hands up.
“I’m not her babysitter.”

“Idiot,” I mutter. I
push my way through the crowd to the stairs and grumble to myself as I start opening
random doors. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the hall seems never ending. There
have got to be at least five bedrooms in this place. The first bedroom is
empty. I knock on the second, but it’s locked and I can’t get it open. The
third and fourth bedrooms are occupied. The occupants were not Violet, and the
sight of buck-naked classmates will be forever burned into my orbs. I check the
bathroom, which has a line of three girls. The only room I haven’t checked is
Aaron’s. A feeling of dread washes over me as I walk up to his door and listen.
Someone is mumbling, but I can’t tell who. I ease the door open, which is
unlocked, to see Aaron and some half-naked girl making out on his bed. I can’t
be too mad, just last night I was making out with someone else, but he’s about
to have sex with her. An hour ago he was trying to convince me to have sex with
him.

“Aaron!” I scream out.
If anything, I want to make sure and ruin his hook up. “After everything we’ve
been through. After giving your ex-girlfriend herpes and telling me we can’t
have sex until you get it cleared up, you hook up with some random girl?”

Aaron jumps off the bed
and pulls up his pants. “You crazy bitch. I don’t have herpes.”

I look past him at the
girl on the bed. “He does, and it’s a bad case too. So I suggest you at least
use a condom.”

I fly down the stairs
and push through the crowd of people before Aaron can finish getting dressed.

As I hit the front
porch, letting the screen door slam behind me, I yell at Mischa. “I gotta go.
Can you find a ride home?”

He crinkles his
forehead. “Are you okay? Where are you going?”

I turn around to answer
him but am stopped short by Aaron bursting through the front door. His eyes are
bulging from their sockets as he points to the street. “Get the hell out of my
house.”

I look around, eyes
wide. “I’m out of your house, moron.”

“Off my property,
slut!”

 I burst out laughing.
How ironic is it that being a virgin makes you a slut?

In a split second,
Mischa takes the three steps over from the other side of the porch and throws a
punch, hitting him square in the jaw. Aaron falls to the ground and everyone
steps back. I don’t want a fight. I don’t want Mischa to get jumped by Aaron
and his band of pumped up football players. Aaron stands and gets in Mischa’s
face. Both boys, fueled by testosterone, silently stare at each other. I can’t
just sit here and do nothing so I run over and squeeze in between them.

“Let’s just go,
Mischa.” I look him straight in the eyes. His face is hard, mouth posed into a
straight line, but he doesn’t move. Mischa can hold his own, but I don’t want
him getting in trouble for hurting Aaron.

Aaron grabs my
ponytail, jerking my head backward, and throws me to the ground. I cry out as I
land in the gravel, rocks scraping my hands and elbow. It takes a few seconds
for me to gather my bearings, but when I turn around. Aaron is on the ground
with Violet standing over him. She lifts her hand over her shoulder for a
triumphant high five from Mischa. A crowd has gathered, and a few people grab
me under the arms and pull me up. My knees wobble as I attempt to steady
myself.

“Thanks,” I mumble,
wiping myself off. I wince when my hands touch the back of my pants and notice
huge scrapes embedded with gravel on the palm of my right hand.

“Ouch,” Violet says, grabbing
my hand to assess the damage.

“It’s nothing.” I pull away;
I don’t want to be touched right now. Not after being attacked by a guy twice
my size. “I’ll clean it up when I get home.” I bite my tongue to dull the pain and
try my best to put on a strong face. “Thanks for hitting him.”

“What are friends for?”

I take a step but my
knees give out and I fall on Violet’s shoulder.

“You can’t drive.
You’re too upset.” Violet motions at Mischa who is a few feet away talking to a
group of girls. “Come drive Cody home.”

“And he isn’t too
upset?” I hiss, ignoring her and walking towards my car. Mischa steps in line
beside me. There’s a worry line across his forehead, but he seems calmer than
before.

“Thanks for saving me
back there, but just so you know. I can take care of myself,” I tell him.

“Still, I would have
kicked Mr. Wonderful’s butt for you.”

Wiping away a stray
tear, I lean against my BMW and kick a random clump of dirt on the ground.
“He’s been pressuring me to have sex with him for a few weeks now. I just
didn’t want my first time to be with someone like him.”

“First time?” Mischa’s
jaw drops then turns into a cocky grin. “Wow, I mean. I didn’t think...”

I glare up at him, my
eyes turning into dangerous crescent shapes. “Shut up.”

His hand grazes the
side of my cheek. “You’ve got some dirt here.”

I hold my breath as he
wipes it away. The way he’s looking at me, the hungry gaze, it makes me weak in
the knees. This is what he does to me, all the time.

“You’re right,” he
continues. “Your first time should be with someone you care about, not some
jerk your father likes.”

As our moment gets a
little too heated, I shove the keys against his chest and walk around to the
passenger side. “You can drive. I’ve had way too much to drink.”

I get inside, knowing
that Mischa hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. He doesn’t drink at parties, only
because he starts acting like his father when he does. After a few too many
violent drunken fights, Violet made him our eternal designated driver.

Everything inside me
knows I shouldn’t take Mischa home. As we drive away, there’s this unspoken
sexual tension in the air. We both know where this is headed, but we don’t have
to say it. Speaking the words might taint this. Those butterflies begin to
flutter up in my stomach, the ones that make you feel like you’re on a roller
coaster, and the high calms me.