Cardinal (3 page)

It’s
music. My brother must be home.

Drying
off, I secure the towel under my arms. I didn’t think to bring my clothes with
me; I’m going to have to remember I’m not living alone anymore. In a few steps
I reach my room, and it hits me that the music is loud. I mean
loud
, as
if I’m the one who is playing it. It’s obvious that it’s coming from the apartment
above this one, not the living room like I thought. The lyrics to Buckcherry’s “Crazy
Bitch” ring crystal clear. The song reminds me of when my brothers got busted
for playing it at home. My mother wasn’t impressed by the use of the word fuck
despite the catchy guitar riffs.

Since
Pete’s not here, I drop the towel and find my underwear, unable to stop my body
from swaying to the music. Once the girls are secure, I turn around to find
some clothes. It feels good to dance, so I roll my hips as I bend over to dig
through my suitcase. When the chorus of the song plays, I stop searching to pull
my hair off my neck and hold it on top of my head. I grind down to the floor
and back up again. Then, I resume my seductive search by leaning over the bed and
shaking my ass.

Apparently,
my inner stripper wants to play today.

Finding a
pair of shorts, I swing them over my head. They go flying because, let’s face
it, I’m not a real stripper. I turn around to pick them up and stop dead in my
tracks.

There is
a guy standing in the doorway.

Watching
me.

Our eyes
lock. He opens his mouth and says something, but all I can hear is the whoosh
of my pulse and Buckcherry. As I step back, my mind registers the fact that his
body takes up most of my exit and he has a sleeve of tattoos down one arm. As I
try to find my voice he says, “Don’t scream.”

What the hell? 
Don’t scream?

He holds
his hands up in surrender. “I know Pete.”

What? 
Creep!  “Get out!”

“Okay!” 
He takes a step into the hallway. “Do you know when he will be –?”

“I said
get out!”  I pick up the closest thing to me and throw it at him which,
unfortunately, happens to be a pair of balled up socks.

He dodges
my attack and smiles.

“This
isn’t funny!”

His smile
grows. “You’re right. It’s not funny.” He turns to leave, but stops. His eyes
give me an appreciative once over. “It’s definitely somethin’ though.”

I march
forward and slam the door in his face. Then, I grab my phone and text my
brother.

Get
home now!

After I put
on some clothes, I yank open the bedroom door to see if my uninvited guest is
still around. He’s not in the hallway, so I venture out to search the rest of
the apartment. When there’s no sign of him in the living room or the kitchen, I
check Pete’s room. I also look out on the balcony, just in case.

He’s
disappeared.

Sitting
on the edge of the couch, I wait for my pulse to slow. I can’t believe that idiot
would just waltz in here like he owned the joint!  Has he ever heard of
knocking?  Speaking of, I wonder if Pete forgot to lock the front door. I push
myself off the couch to check. It’s secure.

Creeper
must have a key, unless he’s Spiderman. Maybe he did come in through the balcony.
I left the sliding door open.

Minutes
later, my brother returns. I hear the deadbolt drop, then watch him open the
door with his foot. One hand holds plastic bags while the other holds keys. His
eyes dart around the room. “What happened?”

I walk
toward him and reach for the bags. “One of your friends scared the shit out of me.”

He looks
confused. “Who?”

“How am I
supposed to know?  He was tall and had tattoos down one arm.”

“That’s
Latson.” Pete reaches for his back pocket and grabs his vibrating phone. He
reads the message and types out a response. “I told him he could stop by to
pick up my beer pong table for tonight.”

“You have
a beer pong table?”

“Yeah. It’s
in your room. Jules probably put it in the closet.”

I carry Pete’s
purchases into the kitchen and set them on the counter. “Well, can you tell him
you have company?  I don’t appreciate strangers staring at me in my underwear.”

“Wait.” Pete
sets his phone next to the groceries. “Why did you answer the door in your
underwear?”

“I didn’t.
I was getting dressed, I turned around, and there he was. How many of your friends
have keys to this place?”

My
brother frowns. “Only one.” He grabs his phone and sends another message.

I open a
bag and take out a package of chicken breasts. Beneath that is a package of
bacon and under that is a steak. I was right about the protein. The next bag
holds a bunch of bananas, two avocados, an onion, and some baby carrots. I
scowl. “Where’s the junk food?”

“Don’t
worry,” Pete says. He peruses what he bought. “Here.” He flips what looks like
a granola bar at me.

“What is
this?” I read the label. It’s a dark chocolate and sea salt Mojo Bar made by
the same people that make Cliff energy bars. I hold it by the end of the
wrapper. “This is not junk food. I need you to tell me where the store is. I
cannot survive on this stuff.”

Pete
rolls his eyes and reaches into another bag. He produces two Hostess apple pies.
“I didn’t forget your favorite.”

“Yes!” 
My face lights up. I snag the pastries from his hand, tear one package open,
and take a big bite. My mouth is filled with sugary cinnamon goodness.  

“Geez.” Pete
shakes his head.

“I haven’t
had anything to eat yet,” I mumble.

Pete’s
phone buzzes and he reads the message. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take
the table to Latson.”

I nod as
I chew and continue to remove food from the grocery bags. I’m filling the
refrigerator when my brother’s cell goes off again. He left it on the counter
and, curious, I glance at the screen. What I read makes me smirk. It’s Pete’s
text thread with Latson.

L: Stopped
by your place. Who’s your friend?

P: My
sister.

Then, a
few minutes later:

P: She
told me what happened. You’re a dick.

L:
Hey. I didn’t know she was your sister. She’s hot.

P: Don’t
even think about it asshole.

Then:

L:
I still need the table.

P: Be
there in a sec.

Hmm. Latson
thinks I’m hot?  I start to feel smug until my mind jumps to Derek, to the last
guy who said that about me. Bastard.

I hope he
realizes what he lost.

~~~~

“Will
this work?”

Juliana
looks me over. “Turn around.”

I comply.
I’ve paired my black skinny jeans with a hot pink tank top for tonight’s party.
It’s layered down the front and has a sheer mesh back.

“Definitely,”
she says when I complete my circle. “I have the perfect shoes for you.” She walks
over to a duffle bag. “I didn’t know what you would need, so I brought a few
things. I hope you can wear a size seven.”

“That’s small,”
I say. “I usually wear an eight.”

She
produces a pair of open-toed, black strappy heels. “Well, give them a try. I
think they’re super cute.”

They are
cute. I sit down on the edge of the bed and take the shoes from her. To my
surprise, my foot fits. Sure, my toes hang off the end, but if I scoot my heel
back they’re almost perfect. Since this party is in Latson’s apartment, I decide
to suffer for fashion. We’ll probably be sitting most of the night anyway.

“Thanks,”
I say. “I didn’t think to bring dressy shoes. Without these I’d be stuck with
my flats.”

Juliana
smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”

We head
to the bathroom to put the finishing touches on our appearance. I look at our
reflections in the mirror. With these shoes on, I tower over Jules. “I’m a
giant next to you,” I laugh.

She winds
a section of her auburn hair around a curling iron and frowns. “I’m used to it.
Everyone is taller than me.”

I apply
some mascara to my lashes.

“Have you
ever thought of using blue eye shadow?” she asks. “It would really make your
eyes pop.”

I stare
at my pale baby blues. “No. I think it’s too ‘80’s.”

“Here.” She
sets the curling iron aside and grabs my hand. She lowers the toilet lid and
makes me sit. “Let me play. If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

I decide
to let her experiment. I don’t know any of the people going to this party and the
chances of seeing them again are small. If I end up looking like Debbie Harry
it will be okay. Plus, it feels nice to do girly things. Not that I don’t wear
skirts and paint my nails, but I haven’t spent time with a girlfriend in
forever. Most of my close friends moved away after high school, with the
exception of Melanie. I talk to her from time to time, but it’s usually online.
We don’t hang out often because she has a little one and another on the way.

Juliana paints
my closed eyelids. “So,” she says. “I heard you met Latson today.”

I grimace.
“You could call it that.”

“Stop
scrunching,” she chastises. “Pete told me he scared you.”

“Um, yeah.
Creeper.”

“You
think he’s creepy?”

“Wouldn’t
you?  I thought I was alone and I wasn’t. I turn around in the middle of my
stripper routine and he says ‘Don’t scream’. Isn’t that what rapists say?”

She giggles.
“Your what routine?”

“I was
kinda dancing in my underwear. There was loud music playing in the apartment
above this one.” I open one eye. “Don’t tell Pete. I left out the dancing
part.”

She
laughs. “My lips are sealed. No wonder Latson thinks you’re hot.”

“What?” I
act surprised. I won’t confess to reading my brother’s text messages.

“Pete
told me,” she says. “He’s not happy about it.”

“Why?  Is
Latson bad news?”

“Not at
all.” I hear her put something down, then feel her finger smudge her work. “He’s
got a little money, he’s eligible, and you can bounce a quarter off his ass.”

I snort. “Have
you tried?”

“No.” I
can hear the smile in her voice. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like what you
saw.”

“I didn’t.”
It’s the truth. “I was too worried about being attacked. I threw some socks at
him and slammed the door in his face.”

She
laughs again. “Really?  I wish I could have seen that. Doors tend to stay open
for Latson.”

I bet. Curious,
I ask, “Is that his real name?”

“It’s his
last name.”

“What’s
his first?”

“He only
shares that information with a privileged few.” I feel her back away. “All right.
Open your eyes.”

I raise
my lids and squint at the light. “How does it look?”

“I think
it looks great.”

Standing,
I face the mirror. The smoky hue surrounding my eyes makes them look twice
their size. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“You pick
up a thing or two working at a salon.” She grabs the curling iron again. “If
you’re thinking about doing something new with your hair –”

“What’s
wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing.”
She shrugs. “But, I’m a stylist. If you want to take advantage, let me know.”

I pull my
straightened dark brown locks over one shoulder. I have a lot of changes going
on in my life right now. I think I’ll keep my hair the way it is.

I keep
Juliana company in the bathroom while she finishes up. During the process, loud
music starts to play above us.

“See? 
There.” I point up. “That’s what I was talking about. How do you and Pete put
up with the noise?”

“We’re
usually at my place. Besides, the owner tends to warn us when he’s having
parties.”

I groan. “It’s
coming from Latson’s?”

She nods.

“I was
dancing to his music earlier?”

She nods
again.

That’s
not awkward or anything.

Finally,
she’s ready to go. We emerge from the bathroom to find my brother sprawled out
on the couch.

“It’s
about time.” He raises the remote and turns off the T.V. “I was going to leave
without you.” He stands as I turn to grab my purse off the table. “Jen. Where
is the back of your shirt?”

I look
over my shoulder. “It’s right here.”

He lets
out a heavy sigh.

“Do you
want her to wear a turtleneck?” Juliana asks.

“No. It’s
just…”

I set my
hands on my hips. “It’s just what?”

“Haven’t
you shown enough skin today?”

I scowl. “It
wasn’t intentional.”

He
doesn’t look amused.

“Can we
get out of here?” I ask. “There’s a party going on and I need a drink.”

“I second
that.” Juliana loops her arm through mine.

The three
of us leave the apartment and take the stairs up one floor. When we get to the
top, I see a hallway similar to Pete’s. Three apartment doors span one wall
while, opposite of my brother’s floor, the other is wall is empty. I assume
this is how Latson gets away with loud parties. No one lives across from him. He
must warn his neighbors on either side like he warns Jules and Pete. I can’t
imagine they would be happy with a bunch of people over all the time.

Juliana’s
arm remains entwined with mine and I let her pull me toward the door that’s propped
open. When we step over the threshold, my jaw drops. I expected a replica of
Pete’s place. This looks nothing like the apartment my brother rents.

Juliana
grabs my attention. “Nice, huh?”

I nod. “Is
it always like this?”

“Do you
mean crowded?”

“No. Big.”

She
smiles. “Latson owns all the apartments on this floor. He knocked down the
walls in between to create a suite.”

He
renovated an entire floor?  I look around the room. He has enough money to do
that but he can’t he afford his own beer pong table?

Speaking
of, the game is in full swing to my right. Behind the two teams bouncing ping
pong balls back and forth I see the kitchen, which is separated from the living
room by a breakfast bar. There must be an island past that, because people have
congregated there. In front of me is a living area with a sunken center; you
have to walk down two steps to get to the main floor. Couches and chairs have
been pushed to the perimeter and a DJ is set up at the far end near the sliding
balcony doors. As Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” morphs into Rihanna’s “Umbrella”,
my eyes continue to roam. A fireplace is tucked away in a corner a few feet
from a mounted flat screen and then, further to my left, I see a hallway.

“Pete!”

I turn to
see a guy clap my brother on his shoulder.

“Hey,
Carter.”

“Juullles.”
He draws out Juliana’s name, then kisses her on the temple. He pretends to
whisper in her ear. “When are you going to dump this loser and go out with me?”

She
laughs. “Carter, this is Pete’s sister, Jen. Jen, meet persistent Carter.”