Between Friends (2 page)

“What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?” the new person shouted at Nicholas as they exchanged shoves and swinging fists.

The two of them swayed back and forth in front of Dallas, bumping into furniture and knocking things over. She was once again afraid to move, in case she got caught in the middle of the fight. But she had to get out of there. The two men fell to the floor, rolling and punching. Nicholas cursed and made vile threats to his opponent. There was rage between the two now, and Dallas couldn’t help but stare. For a second she was mesmerized by the violence of their combat. It was much worse and more scary than anything she’d ever seen on TV.

Nicholas’s fist caught the other man on the cheek. He retaliated with a sharp double jab into Nicholas’s ribs. Nicholas gagged and doubled over, gasping. The other man came slowly to his feet, swaying and breathing hard, wiping blood from his mouth. He used both hands to smooth back his hair from his face. Dallas realized that she had to move. She scrambled up unsteadily and rushed to the stairwell.

“Wa—wait a minute …” the other man said, out of breath. He reached for her.

Dallas tripped over Nicholas, who was curled up and coughing on the floor. She nearly went down on top of him. The other man grabbed her wrist in the same forceful grip that Nicholas had used. Dallas fought him.

“Letmego … letmego!”
Dallas screamed.

“Hey, stop it!”

He tried to contain Dallas’s flaying arms. She tried to jerk away, and they both went down on the floor. Dallas slapped and hit and swung frantically at his head.

“Dammit! I’m not going to hurt you …”

She was too tired to fight anymore. Whatever was going to happen she could no longer stop. She lay crying as he trapped her arms on the floor next to her head.

“You fucking bastard!” Nicholas coughed and groaned from the floor several feet away.

He crawled and stumbled halfway up and headed for the small bathroom in the corner. Dallas could hear him being sick to his stomach in great gasping purges that sounded like someone was choking him to death.

The other man was still on top of her, holding her wrists. Dallas twisted beneath him, but his body felt nothing like Nicholas’s had.

“Calm down,” he commanded. He repeated it again more firmly until she stopped struggling and opened her eyes.

He was staring into her face. His was bloody and bruised. She watched him wearily, but Dallas could tell he wasn’t trying to hold her down. There was no force. No intent. He was gauging her reaction, and she let her body relax beneath his.

“Okay … okay,” he breathed deeply. “I’m not going to hurt you, understand?”

She nodded, watching his face.

“Come on. Get up.”

He lifted himself from Dallas and stood up. He held out his hand to her, but she rejected the offer of help and stood up on her own. Her body felt like rubber, and all her limbs seemed weak and unsteady. She shrank away from him, pulling her torn blouse closed over her nearly naked breasts. He held up both hands. The retching in the bathroom continued.

“I won’t touch you,” the man said.

Dallas backed toward the stairs, keeping her eyes on him. Then she turned and hurried up, blindly reaching out for the landing and the open door. She tripped on the last step, hitting her knee against the ledge. Holding it, Dallas collapsed. She sat on the floor, leaning against a cabinet, and cried. Her body shook uncontrollably.

She heard heavy but slow footsteps behind her. It was him. He hunkered down next to her. Dallas could feel his body heat and his breathing, although not as labored as before. She felt his hand awkwardly patting her trembling shoulder. She shrugged him off.

“Nick didn’t do anything, did he? You okay?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t respond.

It surprised Dallas when he sat on the kitchen floor as well, his back against the opposite cabinet, and stared at her.

“You can’t be one of Nick’s girlfriends. Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Dallas looked at him suspiciously, but she felt no threat from him at all. She could see he had thoughtful, dark eyes, a narrow face, and hair that was too long. He was as tall as Nicholas Marco but much thinner. Wiry and quick.

“I … I came to see Lillian,” her voice warbled.

“Lillian?” he repeated blankly, his gaze taking in her appearance again. He looked around needlessly. “She’s not here.”

“I know,” Dallas sniffled, wiping her face with her hands, feeling less scared now. But he continued to stare at her.

His gaze took in her condition, the torn blouse and her exposed torso. He frowned and stared at her chest as if he could see her breasts behind the crossed arms that tried to cover herself. Slowly he brought his attention back to her face. Dallas cringed when he reached out a hand, but he only tried to push back her hair from her face. He fingered the texture for a second. Letting go, he slowly stood up.

“You’d better get your things and get out of here. Nick is going to be pretty pissed when he comes upstairs.”

Dallas looked up warily at him. But she was beginning to believe she had nothing to fear from this man, whoever he was. She’d never seen him before.

Dallas didn’t move right away, wondering how she could get up without exposing more of herself. Then he reached into the pocket of his denim jacket and took out cigarettes and a lighter. He calmly took his time lighting one as he continued to stare thoughtfully at her. After taking one or two puffs he shrugged and turned his back to Dallas.

“Okay. I won’t look.”

Dallas hesitated, and then came to her knees as she pulled her bra back into place to cover her breasts, glancing furtively at him to see if he was keeping his word. There was not much she could do about her ruined blouse beyond stuffing the tail into the top of her jeans and putting her jacket back on. Her crying turned to sniffles.

Dallas heard the toilet flush downstairs. It spurred her into action. She hastily crawled across the tiled kitchen floor, reaching for her schoolbag. She stuffed as much of her things in as she could find and then stood up.

“Alex!
Alex!
” Nicholas shouted from the lower level of the house. “I’m going to kick your ass, you hear me! I’m going to fuckin’
kill
you!”

Dallas stared at the one called Alex. He didn’t seem to have heard the threat, or maybe just didn’t care. He carefully laid his cigarette on the edge of the sink and, turning on the faucet, cupped water into his hands and splashed his face several times. He used one of the floral dish towels to dry his face and hands.

Dallas looked at the open basement door, fearful that Nicholas would burst through. She began making her way around the other end of the kitchen table and toward the door.

Alex’s voice made her jump.

“You got all your stuff?”

She wasn’t sure and she didn’t care, but Dallas nodded anyway.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He picked up his cigarette, took a drag.

Dallas stared at him warily again and didn’t move.

He became impatient. “Look, I already told you I’m not going to do anything. I could have walked away like Nick said and stayed out of whatever was going on between you two down there.”

He took two strides across the space of the kitchen and pulled the door open. Then he waited for Dallas to precede him out.

Dallas rushed past him, not realizing until he’d closed the door behind them that she’d been holding her breath. They were halfway down the block when the realization that she’d just escaped something really terrible finally hit her. The awareness made her quietly cry. She tried to covertly use her hand to wipe her face.

“Hey … don’t do that,” Alex pleaded. “Look, it’s over. Nothing happened.”

But Dallas knew he didn’t understand. Because she was only just starting to realize how powerless she’d been. She heard him curse in annoyance under his breath, but then he nevertheless started to murmur words of reassurance and comfort.

“Come on … you’re okay.” He briefly rubbed her shoulder.

Dallas nodded and tried to get a hold of herself. But she was recalling more than just the oppressive weight of Nicholas on top of her, or his brutal attempts to control her. Dallas was also mourning the death of a romantic fantasy she had nurtured since she became a teenager, about what it would be like to be with a boy … a man. Nicholas had destroyed it. She was
never
going to let a man touch her again.

She kept taking deep breaths of air and finally stopped crying. She hazarded a surreptitious glance at the thin young man next to her and felt like she was being childish. Dallas sighed thankfully and hugged her book bag to her chest.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Two blocks from here. The other end of Chatham.”

He frowned at her thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah? Since when?”

“Since I was about six or seven.”

His frown deepened, and he squinted at her through the cigarette smoke. “You’re not with that black family Nick and Vin used to talk about, are you?”

Dallas nodded and stared straight ahead. “Nicholas hates me,” she said simply. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with this man. She heard him chuckle. He shook his head and threw away the rest of his cigarette.

“Nicholas is just being a jerk. Vin doesn’t hate you or your family, either. He just doesn’t understand you. And he doesn’t like change or surprises. Anything too different.”

“Lillian isn’t like that,” Dallas offered.

“No, she isn’t,” he agreed. He glanced at her, puzzled. “So, you’re a friend of Lillian’s. How did that happen?”

Dallas shrugged but remained silent as they continued to walk. It began when she was about seven. But Dallas had never told anyone about that, and she didn’t intend to make an exception now.

“I take it Vin and Nicholas don’t like the idea.”

“I don’t think Vin minds so much. He once told me he didn’t. But I still get a little nervous. He’s almost never there when I go to see Lillian.”

Alex frowned at her and shook his head. “Lillian would be real upset if she knew what Nick tried to do.” He blinked at her and lightly touched her right cheek, where a distinct rosette blotch was rising under her tan skin. “He do that?”

Dallas nodded.

“Asshole,” he muttered.

“Who are you?” Dallas asked shyly. “Are you family?”

The corner of his mouth where Nicholas had hit him was turning purple against his pale skin, as was a spot near his temple. She winced involuntarily when she recalled the sounds of fists hitting flesh and bone. This man had taken a beating for her.

“Am I family?” He carefully considered. “In a way. Depends on who you ask.”

Dallas thought about that for a moment. She didn’t know what he meant, and she wasn’t about to ask. “Oh.”

“Mostly they like to pretend I don’t exist. Except for Lillian,” he said.

He hadn’t answered her question, but Dallas knew she couldn’t ask for more information. She stopped at the first corner. Suddenly she didn’t know if it was such a good idea to be seen in this man’s company. Not if he was in some way connected to the Marco family.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way. I just have another block to go.”

He looked around. “Afraid people will see us together? Doesn’t bother me. I’ve been slammed for a lot worse things than for being with a black kid. I got hang-ups, but I’m not prejudiced. Besides …” he began, frowning thoughtfully at her, “what’s the big deal?”

Dallas sensed her whole body loosening up. She was no longer holding herself as if she expected to be attacked again. She felt she could trust him. He had a kind of invincibility, like someone who didn’t care. Or like someone who couldn’t be hurt.

He didn’t look much older than Nicholas. About twenty-one or so. She stole another quick glance, thinking he was much better-looking than Nicholas.

“I’ve never seen you before. You don’t live around here, do you?” she asked.

“Nope. Brooklyn.”

Dallas waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He was lighting another cigarette. He glanced briefly behind them, and she wondered if he expected Nicholas to come after them.

They approached a two-level Cape house situated in the middle of the block. There were no cars in the driveway and Dallas knew her parents hadn’t gotten home yet. She stopped in front of the house and faced her escort.

“Are you visiting with Vin and Lillian?”

He raised his brows and looked at her. “You ask a lot of questions. Visiting?” he repeated, again testing her word. He shook his head. “Just reminding them I’m still alive. I never stay long.”

Dallas became uncomfortable when she imagined him seeing Vin and Lillian later, or having to face Nicholas. What was he going to say about the bruises on his face? She gnawed her lips.

“What … what’s going to happen when you go back there? What if Nicholas and you start fighting again?”

He lifted his shoulder indifferently. “We won’t.”

Dallas stared wide-eyed at him until he finally understood.

“Look, I won’t say anything to Vin or Lillian, I promise. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t. They’ll think it’s my fault. Nicholas might lie.”

“Are you going to tell your folks?” She shook her head vigorously. “How come?”

“Same reasons. I wasn’t supposed to be there anyway. It’s kind of off limits.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Dallas. Dallas Oliver.”

“Dallas? What kind of name is that? Born in Texas?”

She tried to grin. It twisted, in the end, into a brief expression of sadness. “No. My mother was.”

He held out a hand suddenly to her. “Alex Marco,” he said.

Dallas stared at it before she tentatively put her hand in his. The handshake was quick and hard. “Thanks for—you know—helping me before. I’m sorry if you got hurt.”

“Forget about it. Nick and I, we’ve gone at it before.” He pointed at her. “
You
stay out of his way. If he ever tries anything like that again, you just …” He thought for a moment. “You call me and let me know.”

Already Dallas was shaking her head. “That’s okay.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. He patted down his pockets, then gestured to her. “Give me a pen and some paper.”