Against the Wall (16 page)

I'm already behind schedule, so I run to the bus stop. I don't know how I'm going to juggle everything. I have to work, paint a mural, do odd jobs at the junkyard, fix my car, avoid sleeping with Meghan…

I can't forget that last one. She's at the top of my to-not-do list.

Rose smiles at me as I walk through the door. I check the clock and see that I'm early. “Notice anything new?” she asks.

I give her a once-over. She looks the same as always; sexy, professional, nice cleavage.

“Not with me,” she says, tilting her head toward the opposite wall.

My poster is there. Son of a bitch. It's hanging next to a dozen framed photos of amazing tattoos done by Fine Ink artists. “You did this?”

“Matthew did.”

I can't believe it. I'm speechless. I never thought my poster would be on the wall of fame. I never thought I'd be painting a mural for the YMCA, either. I don't deserve this much praise and recognition.

I have to leave the front office because my eyes are burning. I duck into the bathroom and splash my face with cold water at the sink. Then I do it again. After three times, I'm under control. I study myself in the mirror, but I don't see anyone special. It's just me, Eric Hernandez, the same as I've always been.

I meet Kelsea at the San Miguel trailhead.

It's a gorgeous day, sunny without a hint of clouds. When I first moved here I was surprised by the dreary weather in May and June. During those months the marine layer settles over the coast and blocks out the sun for most of the day. April is always nice, with brighter skies and greener foliage. Perfect for hiking.

Kelsea is wearing jogging shorts and a sports bra, like me. Her long hair is braided and tucked under a baseball cap. She puts on her sunglasses at the base of the trail. “Let's do this,” she says, as if we're about to run a marathon.

She's really into working out.

I try to keep up with her as we ascend the peak. San Miguel is a small, craggy mountain on the east side of Chula Vista. The climb in elevation makes the hike challenging. I'd prefer a chat and a leisurely stroll, but Kelsea has only one speed. She goes hard in all of her endeavors. She'd probably jog the whole way if I wasn't with her.

When we reach the top, I'm sweating, short of breath. We sit on a bench to drink water and take in the view. The mountain overlooks Otay Lakes and a maze of freeways. To the west I can see the Tijuana border, where the fence disappears into the ocean. I've always wondered what it looks like up close.

Kelsea takes out her phone for a post-peak selfie. As you do. I smile for the camera, tilting my head toward hers. She shows me the picture before posting. Although the detectives warned us against revealing our locations via social media, she does it anyway. It's been almost a week since the slut walk, with no new threats or graffiti.

“How's your man?” she asks.

“Avoiding me.”

“You think?”

I nod. I've hardly seen Eric since our make-out session. “I caught him staring at me the other day. That's about it.”

“So he wants you, he's just not going to hit it because of your brother.”

“I guess.”

“Why is Noah being such a cockblocker?”

I understand Noah's reservations. Eric used to sell drugs. He belonged to a violent gang and went to prison for manslaughter. Those offenses aren't easily erased. Eric has a long way to go to prove himself. Even I'm not convinced he's on the right track.

“You need to highlight Eric's good deeds and show Noah that he's reformed.”

“He won't believe it.”

“He doesn't think people can change?”

“He doesn't think it happens overnight.”

“It's been three years.”

Three years in hell, I imagine. Although Eric has always been a good person, deep down, prison didn't reform him. It only hardened him further. “He slept with the ex-girlfriend of the guy he killed,” I remind her.

“You expect him to be celibate?”

“No. I expect him to be smart.”

“You were with Chip until recently.”

“Are you implying that I was dumb to date Chip?”

She smiles. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

What Eric did is more than a dumb mistake. It's self-sabotage on top of a betrayal. “Eric went to another girl
after
I broke up with Chip.”

“Oh, I get it,” Kelsea says. “He was supposed to start being faithful to you as soon as you became available.”

Her framing of the situation irritates me, but she has a point. I didn't break up with Chip just to be with Eric. I had other reasons. Although I'm not happy that he slept with someone else, I have no right to judge him.

“Do you still want him?” Kelsea asks.

“Yes.”

“Then forget about that other girl and go after him. If it works out, you can tell your brother eventually. If not, no worries.”

“So I should have sex with Eric behind Noah's back?”

“Why not? Noah doesn't have to know.”

“This is like me telling you to hook up with Tank behind your dad's back.”

“It's similar.”

“What's stopping you?”

“I never see Tank outside of Fine Ink.”

“You could go on a night your dad isn't there.”

“Yeah, but Tank won't be alone with me. Not after…”

She'd thrown herself at him. I wonder if Tank would play as hard to get now that Kelsea's twenty-one. Four years ago, she was jailbait and he was in his mid-twenties. The age difference isn't insurmountable anymore.

My phone chimes in my pocket. It's Noah. “What's up?”

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“I'm fine.”

“No trouble?”

“None.”

“Good,” he says, clearing his throat. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What?”

“Do you work this weekend?”

“Just Friday.”

“I was thinking about taking April to Palm Springs, as a surprise.”

“I can watch Jenny.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. She can hang out with me and Kelsea. We'll have a slumber party.”

Kelsea gives me a thumbs-up. I hold the phone so she can hear our conversation.

“That would be great,” he says, seeming relieved. He's probably glad I won't be alone in the house with Eric. “I'm going to book the hotel right now. I thought I'd buy her a gift, too. Something for her, not the baby. You know?”

Kelsea clutches her chest and falls across the bench, as if his sweetness has killed her.

“I'm not sure what to get,” he says.

I've helped Noah pick out gifts before. He's not the best shopper. “Get lingerie.”

“Really?”

“She told me yesterday that she feels frumpy.”

“You're kidding.”

“No.”

“I think she looks…hot.”

Kelsea smothers a giggle, delighted by his comment. I ignore her.

“Do they even make maternity lingerie?” he asks.

“I don't know. She's not very big. You can get comfortable fabric, like stretchy lace. Sexy colors. Nothing motherly.”

“Okay. I'll do that. Thanks.”

I end the call and put my phone away.

“I'm in love with your brother,” Kelsea says.

“Shut up.”

“Does April appreciate him?”

“She treats him like a king. It's almost disgusting, but not quite.”

“This is your chance to seduce Eric,” Kelsea says.

I nibble on my lower lip, conflicted. I don't know if I should try to hook up with Eric while April and Noah are away. They'll be counting on me to watch Jenny. But she always goes to bed early and sleeps like a log, so it's not like I'd be neglecting her. My main concern is Eric. He's dead-set against us getting together.

I sense that he's at some sort of crossroads. This could push him the wrong direction. He might reach his breaking point and move out.

Kelsea and I hike back down the mountain in silence. There's a picnic area between the trailhead and the parking lot. The space is shady and cool, surrounded by gnarled oak trees. A picturesque footbridge arches over a tiny creek. As we traverse the bridge, Kelsea checks her phone again, snorting at a comment on the photo she posted.

“ ‘First you did a slut walk, now you're on a slut hike,' ” she reads.

“Who said that?”

“I don't know. Some egg.”

An egg is an anonymous Twitter account with no profile photo. “The detectives told us to be careful about posting our locations.”

“I didn't mention the location, but I guess someone could recognize the scenery. I'd be more worried if we were close to campus.”

“Why?”

“Well, that's where he did the graffiti. I also got a really creepy feeling when I walked from the dorm to dance practice yesterday. Maybe it's because everyone's on spring break and the place is deserted.”

“You shouldn't walk alone.”

“In broad daylight?”

“Not if you don't feel safe.”

“I'm sure it's fine. Tomorrow I'll bring my pepper spray along and be ready to douse some—”

A man steps into our path as we reach the end of the bridge. Neither of us was paying attention, and he seemed to come out of nowhere. We both scream at the unexpected sight.

“Whoa,” he says, putting his palms up. It's Chip.

“Jesus Christ,” Kelsea sputters. “I almost threw my phone at you.”

I can't believe he's here. He didn't call first, and I thought he was in Cabo. He must have seen the picture Kelsea posted and tracked us down. I hike this mountain with her often. He's familiar with the location.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks.

There's a picnic table about twenty feet away. I give Kelsea a questioning glance.

“I'll stay right here,” she says, narrowing her eyes at Chip in warning.

Chip's brow furrows with the realization that Kelsea knows he hit me. He appears angry, rather than ashamed. Then his expression changes and I can't tell what he's thinking. I head toward the picnic area, my stomach churning.

He sits down across from me. He's wearing an Aztecs T-shirt. His eyes are bloodshot and he hasn't shaved in a few days. Although I don't feel unsafe in his presence, I have mixed emotions about seeing him again. I wish I'd left him sooner, on better terms. Everything seemed to fall apart so quickly.

I moved in with him for the wrong reasons. I wasn't in love with him; I was running away from Eric. I think Chip sensed my lukewarm feelings and reacted badly. The more I held back, the more controlling he became. But he couldn't force me to fall for him.

“You came over to get your stuff,” he says.

“You're surprised?”

“It just seems so…final.”

“It is final.”

He scrapes his fingernails over the stubble on his jaw. “Did you tell your brother what happened?”

I'm already tired of this conversation. Chip's more interested in keeping secrets than atoning for his sins. I look over my shoulder at Kelsea, who's taking video with her phone. Chip won't dare cross the line on tape.

“I'm guessing you didn't,” he says. “I appreciate that.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” he says, reaching across the table to cover my hand with his. “I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I hit you.”

It's harder to deal with a sincere apology than his selfish questions. I don't know what to say, but I refuse to let him off the hook. What he did is not okay, and I won't tell him otherwise. “I hope it doesn't happen again.”

“You don't have to worry about that. I'll never hurt you.”

“What about the next girl? Will you hurt her?”

His jaw goes slack as if he hasn't even considered the possibility. This concerns me, because I think he might need help with his anger issues and I feel guilty about staying quiet. My silence endangers other women.

“I don't want another girl,” he says quietly.

“The panties on your bed tell a different story.”

He makes a tortured sound, low in his throat. “That meant nothing. I was drunk. I could've hooked up with a lot of girls in Cabo but I came home early because I didn't want them. I only want you.”

“Chip—”

“We were good together. I miss you.”

I don't miss him. It doesn't matter how much Chip wants me, or how much he changes. Nothing he says or does will make a difference, because my heart isn't involved. He's not the one for me.

“I love you,” he says.

I shake my head and rise from the picnic table, preparing to leave. When he stands with me and grasps my elbow, I'm reminded of the last time he grabbed me. The bruises and pain. “I don't love you,” I say, yanking my arm away.

He flinches at this confession. “You never did.”

I don't dispute it.

Chip's neck turns red with anger. I retreat a step, my heart racing.
Now
I'm scared. He's like Jekyll and Hyde, ready to switch at any moment. “You're a lying whore,” he says. “You fucked around on me and made a fool of me in public!”

“I'm taking video,” Kelsea warns him. She moves closer, holding her phone up. “You'd better get out of here before I call the cops on your woman-beating ass.”

Chip clenches his hands into fists and starts walking away, cursing under his breath. When he glances back, she flips him off.

“Sluts,” he yells after us.

“That's right,” she shouts. “I'm a slut and so is she. We both fucked him at the same time instead of you!”

Chip pushes over a trash can in the parking lot and kicks the garbage around like a toddler having a tantrum. Then he climbs into his sports car and tears across the gravel. As soon as he's gone, my knees turn to jelly. I sit down on the bench.

“That didn't go well,” Kelsea says.

I laugh at the understatement. Once I start, I can't stop. I guess I'm hysterical. Kelsea puts her arm around me and I laugh until I cry.

“I'm sorry,” she says, patting my back. “I shouldn't have added fuel to the fire.”

I pull myself together. “It's okay.”

“Do you think he did the graffiti?”

“I doubt it,” I say. Chip is hot-tempered and impulsive, but quick to cool down. I can't imagine him risking his place on the team by damaging school property. “He's just your regular, garden-variety jerk.”

She snorts in agreement.

“Maybe I should be like you and avoid relationships.”

“Just say no,” she says with a smile. It doesn't quite reach her eyes.

I give her a hug. “At least we have each other.”

“Always,” she says, hugging me back.