Catching Raven (9 page)

At first glance, I appear closed-off and solemn. But if you study the
painting more closely, I think I just look…innocent. He captured my essence,
not my outside, my inside. A perfect blend of vulnerability and strength. He
even scribbled his signature in the bottom right corner, sealing his stamp of
approval.

“Wish I had someone to see me the way Eric sees you,” Tori mutters in
awe.

I cannot stop smiling. Knowing Eric put so much thought and effort into
my gift chips away a thin layer of the icy exterior cloaking my heart. If this
is his way of reaching out, I accept. We’re a long way from okay, but at least
we’re moving in the right direction.

I set the canvas against the couch and snap a quick photo. I send it to
Eric as an attachment along with the message:
Thank you so much for the
portrait. It’s gorgeous.
I’ll send you a pic when it’s up on the wall.

Baby steps.

Several beats pass before he responds.

MDJD:
Can I call you?

I tap my thumb nail against the screen while I mull that over.

Tori’s voice cuts through my indecisiveness. “Just call him, Rave. You
know you want to.”

She’s right, but I don’t want give in too soon. He doesn’t deserve to be
let off the hook that easily. The only thing worse than being a cliché girl who
falls into the trap of believing she’s the exception, is one who does it over
and over again. Live and learn, raise the bar, and whatever you do, don’t
settle. That last rule applies to both men and shoes.

I type out a curt response.

Me:
Not tonight.

Voilà! Bar’s been set.

e     r     i     c

“How much longer is this gonna last?”

Funny, I could ask Mrs. Norman the same thing. Every Tuesday the woman
finds something new to bitch about. Never fails. This time she’s complaining
about how long it’s taking me to mow her lawn. I know that sounds sexual, but
it’s not. She’s a tad too old for me. Anyone who requires arthritis medication
and a cane for transportation cannot handle Yours Truly. Besides, necrophilia
is not my style. Also, I’m actually about to mow her lawn.

I drop the gate on the back of my truck and pull the trimmer out.

“Should be done in about thirty minutes, Mrs. Norman.”

“Good. I don’t know why it’s taking so long. I don’t pay you to sunbathe
out here. And stop blowing grass onto my sidewalk. It gets in my way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Pull your pants up, too. I don’t wanna see that trash when I’m lookin’
out my window.”

I doubt she can see anything beyond her nose, but I’ll save that argument
for another Tuesday. It’s taken me twice as long to get all my jobs done
because I’m down a coworker. I’m on my fourth job site with one more to go.
Next comes H-E-B, which will effectively screw me out of the rest of my day. At
least I’m almost done here, but not before she adds another jab.

“Come to think of it, you might wanna buy a new pair of pants. Preferably
ones that don’t have paint stains running down the legs. Learn to look
professional, young man.”

Please slit my throat with a lawnmower blade. I’m begging you.

I’m sorry, was that too morbid?

Seriously, though. If she keeps it up, I’m tagging her house tonight. A
little graffiti will teach her some tolerance. Maybe then she’ll learn to
appreciate my art.

She takes her wrinkled old ass back inside her house, leaving me in peace
to trim. I start that bad boy up and go to town, deeply fantasizing about
walking into her house and slicing all of her furniture up. Puts a smile on my
face and an extra step in my stride.

As I’m loading up the truck and trailer, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm and check the text.

Levi:
Hey, long time no see. Party at my place tonight. Bring some
girls.

Me:
What are we celebrating?

Levi:
I’m a free man.

In other words, he’s fresh out of jail. Probably on probation, too.
Dumbass.
It’s been awhile since we’ve crossed paths. He decided to break off and do
his own thing. Moved on to heavier crimes like theft and battery. I’m all for
taking risks, but they’ve gotta be calculated. Levi’s reckless. Once I saw him
hopping on a first-class train to Nowheresville, I chucked up the deuces and
paved my own way instead.

Me:
I’ll be there. You cool if I invite Chase Williams?

Levi:
Only if you each bring a girl to balance it out. This party’s
not going to be a sausage fest.

Me:
Fair enough. See you in a bit.

I scroll through my contacts until I find Chase.

Me:
Party at Levi’s place tonight. Bring at least one female.

Chase:
I’m off at 9. I’ll text some girls and swing by after work.

Me:
Sounds good.

Next comes Mia.

Me:
My buddy’s having a party tonight and he’s requesting dirty, low
down hookers. Shall we count you in attendance?

Mia:
Why would you need me to make an appearance if you’re showing up?

Me:
Ha-ha. If only you were funny. But seriously, is that a no?

Mia:
I can’t tonight. Sorry. My dad and I have plans.

Me:
Whatever. We’re too cool for you anyway.

Mia:
Now who’s the funny one?

Me:
 ; )

Saving the best for last, I pull up Raven’s number. I’ve spent the last
few nights reminiscing and rereading all of our previous text messages, dating
back as far as they’ll go. Every time I’m reminded of what I said, guilt seeps
into my conscious and hijacks my brain. How could I have been such an idiot? I
had her, dammit! She was right within my grasp and now she’s barely speaking to
me. I never realized how depressingly hollow everything is when she’s not
around.

Instead of shooting her a text, I hit the call button and hold the phone
up to my ear, waiting for her to answer. That’s assuming she will.

To my surprise, she does.

“Hello?”

“Hey…” I stammer, looking down and shuffling my feet.

Great. Now it’s awkward and forced. I make a lame attempt to recover.
“How are you?”

“Fine.”

Liar
.
No matter how much she tries to deny it, I know she’s
hurting—badly. I wish I could wrap my arms around her and heal every wound I’ve
caused. No doubt she’d break my hands off if I tried. Any chance I had of
winning her over was lost the second I made her feel like she was nothing more
than a piece of ass. Mending fences has never seemed so difficult. I don’t even
know where to begin. If only it were a simple fix. Since laughter is the best
remedy…. “A much less attractive version of Betty White just spent the limited
breaths she has left chewing me out.”

“Good.”

Despite the one-word response, I hear her smile on the other end of the
line. A tiny fissure in her armor. Progress. “How long are you going to keep
busting my balls?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On when you redeem yourself.”

“You can’t stay mad at me forever, you know.”

Silence.

I check the screen to make sure she didn’t hang up on me. Her picture’s
still showing.
Stay with me, Rave.

“Give me a chance to make it up to you tonight,” I cajole.

“How?”

“Come to Levi’s party and I’ll explain everything.”

“I’m not invited to Levi’s party.”

“You are now. I’m inviting you.”

She laughs bitterly. “Why in the world would I want to go to one of
Levi’s stupid parties? You know I can’t stand him. He’s a dick to me every time
I see him.”

Levi’s convinced I’m pussy-whipped and believes Raven is solely
responsible for why I never come around anymore. Truth is, his ego couldn’t
handle it when I started hanging out with her on a regular basis. I was sick of
taking the heat for his fuck-ups. I saw an easy out, and I took it.

“Because I’ll be there and I want to see my best friend. I miss you. At
least give me a chance to explain myself. That’s all I’m asking. I know you’re
pissed—and you have every right to be—but there’s a reason why I reacted the
way I did.”

It suddenly dawns on me that my relationships are usually comprised of “let
me explain” moments and endless misunderstandings. Gets old very quickly.

“Are Tori and Mia going?”

“I texted Mia, but she’s busy. Haven’t tried Tori yet. Bring her along if
you want. Whatever you do, just show up. This is me begging. You know I don’t
beg.”

“I’ll think about it,” is all she offers.

Frustrated, I run my hand through my hair. “Rave, please?”

I wait patiently on the line while she considers my request. I’d give
anything for this one thing to go right today. All I need is for her to show up.
The rest I can handle on my own. I’ll improvise.

Several beats pass before she finally speaks.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m only staying for an hour.”

Every muscle in my body relaxes. It’s not quite as long as would’ve hoped
for, but at least she agreed.

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll drive myself. That way you can stay and have fun.”

What I really want is to leave when she does and spend some alone time
with her, but I decide not to press my luck.

“Thank you.” And because I can’t resist, I make her an offer she won’t be
able to refuse. “If you’re interested, there’s a way you can torture me.”

“I’m listening.”

“Wear one of those skimpy little outfits hidden in your closet.”

“Nice try. Sweatpants it is.”

I roll my eyes and call her bluff. “You don't even own a pair of
sweatpants.”

“No, but Tori does. So thanks for the inspiration.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll look sexy regardless.”

“I’ll go to great lengths to ensure I don’t.”

“No you won’t. You care way too much about what other people think. And
even if you did, it wouldn’t work. You’re always beautiful to me.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. I jump on the opportunity to have the last
word.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight.”

I end the call and slip my phone back into my pocket, feeling a glimmer
of hope for the first time in five days.

* * *

I burst through Levi’s door and walk
straight into a dense cloud of marijuana smoke. The scent triggers a slew of
memories to come rushing back. It’s been awhile since I rolled up a joint and
chilled the fuck out. Miss those days. I inhale a deep breath and trudge on.

In true Levi fashion, the place is crammed with chicks, drugs, and an
endless supply of booze. There’s a crowd mingling around the kitchen table,
watching a game of strip poker that’s underway. Slices of pizza and cups of
jungle juice are lined up for grabs on the counter. Lyrics from 2Pac’s
“California Love” are pounding through the speakers.

I weave through the masses and search for Levi. He’s reclining on the
living room couch with a beer in one hand, and a handful of ass in the other. A
tattooed, curvy redhead is straddling his lap, whispering sweet nothings in his
ear. When he sees me approaching he nudges her off and stands up.

“Sup, man?” he pulls me into a one-arm hug.

“Not shit.”

He releases me and looks down at the bottle I’m holding. A cross between
confusion and disgust erupts on his face. “Sangria? Have you grown a vagina
since I last saw you?”

“Fuck off. It’s for Raven. She likes the sweet stuff.”

His face goes serious. “You invited that buzzkill to my party?”

“Relax. She knows how to have a good time.”

“Naw, man. She’s a priss. Please tell me you brought a backup?”

“She may or may not be bringing a friend.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“If memory serves, you used to have the hots for her,” I remind him.

“Times change. And so do people.” He shoots me an accusatory look.

“Come on, she isn’t that bad.”

“She’s a beauty, but she ain’t worth it. Her hotness is consumed by the
amount of bullshit you have to put up with. I’ve been telling you that for
years.”

“Hey, do you hear that? It’s a beer calling my name,” I say, cutting the
conversation short and slapping him on the shoulder. “Glad to see you’re a free
man.”

He takes a sip of his own. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll hit you up later
if Queen Buzzkill hasn’t gotten to you first.”

I roll my eyes. “Let it go, dude.”

I dip into the kitchen before he has a chance to respond. Can somebody
say mindtrip? It’s crazy what time and distance will do to a person. Although,
I’m sure he’d say the same about me. Levi was the closest thing I had to a
brother. Raven was an outsider who didn’t understand our lifestyle. These days,
the roles have reversed. Levi’s been quietly fading into obscurity as I rely on
Raven to hold me down and keep me sane. She’s my thread of stability in a world
full of uncertainties.

Speaking of my favorite ball buster, in prances Raven—solo. My jaw drops.
She definitely took my advice and ditched the sweatpants idea. She’s flaunting
her generous curves in a fiery red, body-hugging dress, which I’m certain was
single-handedly plucked off a hanger in hopes to destroy me. Mission
accomplished. The bold, dramatic color suits her personality perfectly.

My body drifts towards her like a magnet to a fridge. When she sees me
coming, she stiffens. I hesitate briefly, allowing my eyes roam every inch of
her scorching figure. It hurts to look at her. All it does is remind me of what
I’ve known all along—I don’t deserve her. I bend down to kiss her temple and
slip a compliment in her ear. “Congratulations. I’m eating my heart out.”

She twists her head in my direction, revealing a set of cold, calculated
eyes. “You should be after you kicked me in mine.”

I straighten my spine and stifle a grin. Vengeful banter turns me on.

I raise the bottle of sangria. “Peace offering?”

“Liquoring me up isn’t going to help our situation, Eric.”

“You sure about that? It can’t hurt.”

She shakes her head. “Always deflecting with a joke. What a shocker.”