Mutual Release (22 page)

He didn’t move, and his presence seemed to swell and fill all the corners of the already crowded room. Julie made the mistake of sucking in a breath, as she tried to calm her pounding heart. Whatever cologne he had bathed in filled her brain, triggering her gag reflex. She put her hand over her mouth.

Bart’s eyes were suddenly concerned, and he shrank a little, becoming a man who was only checking on her and not a predatory monster. He put a hand on her shoulder, let it slide down her bare arm.

“You okay, sweetheart? Feeling sick? Need a ride home?”

She shook her head. The thought of being closed up with him in his car made her gorge rise even higher. His eyes darkened, sharpened. Panic made her speechless. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and stumbled out into the hall, gulping in air, mercifully free of his man-perfumed stench.

Chapter Three

“I told you I was going out.” Her mother primped and preened in the tiny bathroom mirror. “I left ten bucks on the table. Just order pizza.”

Julie sipped her tea and tightened the robe around her. She was already dressed underneath and had thrown on the robe when her mom had rushed in from her shift at the restaurant, blathering about Bart taking her out “dancing” or some shit, a “short-notice date.”

Julie gave what she believed had to be an Oscar-worthy effort, convincing her mom she had an awful cold and would be shivering under blankets, clutching tissues, for the night. At one point the woman had narrowed her eyes, and Julie had dropped her gaze, thinking herself caught out in the lie. But Julie’s mother was nothing if not the most self-centered human on the planet. So she bought the act, made Julie a cup of tea, gave her an aspirin, and resumed her preparations.

“I don’t like him, Mom,” Julie said, trying one more time to get her mother to stop being so excited about Bart. “He’s kind of a creep.”

“No, he’s not. He is a successful businessman, concerned about his employees and about you. He told me so. He wanted to make sure you were safe and sound at home tonight while we were out. Such a thoughtful guy.” Julie rolled her eyes as her mother sighed and stared at herself in the mirror another few seconds. “I think he’s going to ask me soon, Jules, I really, truly do.” Her mother bit her plump lower lip and grinned at her daughter as she turned and ran her hands down her hips encased in a second-hand little black dress.

“Oh Mom, please do not tell me you want to marry him, ick!” Julie wandered down the hall, wishing more than anything that her mother would listen, would heed her fear about the way Bart stared at her breasts while pretending to talk to her. She shuddered, then flopped onto the couch to stare at the television as it blared out the latest rotten news of the world.

The doorbell rang. “Jules, baby, would you get that?” her mother sang out.

Julie hauled herself up, knowing her mother was perfectly capable of answering and had been ready for this date for nearly a half hour. But she loved to make an entrance. So Julie peeped out to see Bart’s giant teeth and rodent-sharp eyes looming large in the fish-eye lens before opening it and stepping back, tying her robe even tighter around her middle.

He smiled, a benevolent thing, which made Julie second-guess herself for the hundredth time when it came to Bart Hardin. “Here,” he declared, handing her a cup of something and keeping his distance. “Gourmet hot chocolate for the poor sick girl.”

She smiled and sipped and tried like hell to feel anything resembling comfortable under his gaze.

“Manners, Julie. I know your mother has taught you better.” He took a step way too close, making her gulp and stumble back into a chair. His eyes were sharp again, making her feel like a doomed mouse in a hawk’s direct sights.

“Thanks, Bart,” She said, turning from him to hide in the kitchen. Resisting the urge to pour the stupid chocolate down the sink, she sat in the far corner of the room, keeping the table between them.

He leaned in the doorway, never taking his dark eyes from her. “You sure you’re going to be all right here alone tonight?”

She shook off her sudden need to respond, to be polite, to let him lull her into any sense of complacency. She had watched enough television and read enough news articles to know exactly what it was he wanted from her. She hunched her shoulders and tried not to be “so dramatic” as her mother liked to say. “I’m fine. Gonna read and go to bed. Mom!” she yelled, hoping the woman would hurry the hell up and get this guy out of their apartment.

“Hi, handsome.” Her admittedly lovely young mother put a light kiss on Bart’s cheek. The reek from his cologne hit Julie’s nose then, making her turn her head away.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he growled. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving this one alone.”

Her mother frowned at her. Julie shrugged. They had such a strange dynamic, and this new bizarre twist, the one where Julie actually sensed jealousy shooting out of her mother’s dark stare made her gulp and want to burst into tears. The hopelessness of her situation hit her right between the eyes. She had to get out of there, even if she lingered in town and went to community college.

She squared her shoulders and tried to look simultaneously way too sick to sneak out and go to a party, and well enough to be left the fuck alone.

* * * *

By the time Bart had let himself be dragged out the door, Julie was exhausted. The phone rang just as she was about to wimp out of the whole thing, convinced it was pretty much a stupid idea anyway. She had no business going to any normal teenager’s party. She was as far from normal as a teenager could get. “I’m not going,” she declared when Amy called to say she was about to leave her house and would be at Julie’s building in fifteen minutes.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Her friend hung up, leaving Julie to hyperventilate in the kitchen, clutching the phone handset in a death grip. She stood on wobbly knees, put the cracked receiver back in the cradle, and stripped out of the robe.

Her feet wouldn’t cooperate at first but she finally made her way back to the bathroom, tried her hand at a bit of makeup, finally washing it all off in frustration. She didn’t even know how to talk to boys or what to do at a “back-to-school” party. Jesus. She gazed at the small tub, wanting nothing more than to run a hot bath and climb in, then watch TV for a while, before catching up on some sleep. It was too much. Her head jerked up when the doorbell dinged again.

“I am not going,” she declared to the vision of her friend clad in shorts and the smallest possible t-shirt. Julie rubbed her bare elbows, feeling overdressed in what she’d thought was a cute sundress but now realized how frumpy and out-of-it she looked. “Cut it out!” she yelped when Amy grabbed her arm and yanked her into the smelly hallway. “Jesus,” she mumbled, part of her happy Amy was not taking no for an answer. “Hold on.”

She grabbed a small purse and pulled the door shut behind her, embarrassed that her wealthy, put-together friend had to see the shabby, shit-colored carpet in the hallway, smell the Indian food cooking that permeated the building, experience the shouting and cursing coming from the other apartments.

But Amy just grinned at her, unfazed. “Let’s go. Your new boyfriend awaits.”

Julie rolled her eyes, but lost the battle to keep from grinning from ear to ear when she climbed into Amy’s VW bug. The night felt rich, glorious, and full of possibility. Could this be the turning point for her? After all these years wishing she had something like a normal life, or that her mom would at least pretend to like her sometimes in between bitching about how both her figure and life as a teenager had been ruined by the fact of Julie’s conception.

Amy sped away from the curb, drinking from a red cup full of something that smelled so strong, Julie wrinkled up her nose at it when her friend thrust it into her hand. “Just hold your nose, Miss Sensitive. It’s social lubricant, a pre-tuner, whatever. Drink it. So you don’t look like you have a broomstick up your ass when we get there.”

Julie stuck her tongue out at her friend but did as she was told, literally holding her nose and downing the foul liquid, wincing as it burned her throat. Amy sang along with The Who, and Julie joined her as they made their way to a neighboring suburb where the second-tier party was being held, sans adults, and completely illicit.

Amy had a funny look in her eye when they stopped at a light. Julie felt a chill steal across her scalp.

“I’m doing it. Tonight. I swear to you I am,” the other girl declared.

Julie frowned. She knew damn good and well what Amy was talking about but didn’t want to acknowledge it. The state of their mutual virginity had been a hot topic of discussion all summer between them. Amy had snagged some of her mom’s steamier romance novels and the girls had giggled and squirmed uncomfortably at some of the more explicit parts. The whole thing was both disgusting and titillating, terrifying, forbidden, and yet potentially wonderful, especially the part when the virgin allowed her rakish, charming man to “penetrate her” and they “rocked their hips together,” drawing sighs and cries of satisfaction from their lips. Of course, they would marry, have babies, and live wonderful lives together after that.

Julie was more of a cynic about such things. But she had an innocent young girl’s normal fascination about how and when she would surrender her “maidenhead” and what man would be worthy of such a gift. She talked big when she and Amy read some of the juicier bits about “throbbing manhood” and “soft fluttering kisses” and “warm wet folds” out loud. She acted like she knew all that crap and then some, but she didn’t. Julie was terrified of boys, to tell the truth, after her mother’s strange verbal indoctrinations in spite of the way she was a walking, talking, “do as I say, not as I do” contradiction.

Julie sighed and leaned her head against the window. But Amy wouldn’t stop blabbing.

“I think Tom will be there. You remember him? From geography class last year? He plays soccer? Yeah.” Amy tapped her fingernails on the wheel, worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I gotta get past this, get it over with.”

“Why?” Julie asked, honestly bewildered. “I mean, you know…”

“This is pretty funny, you know. You were the one all summer who said it was no big deal. That we should find a guy and just have him… you know,
do it
to us so we could be over it.”

Julie sighed. “I know. It’s just…” She stopped talking, not even sure what it “just” was anymore. But she knew didn’t want anything done
to
her. Images of Bart’s predatory stare made her shudder.

“Right, so here we are. Stick close to me for a while, okay?”

Julie froze in her seat. The house was smallish, not even nearly as nice as Amy’s. Every light was on, but there weren’t a ton of cars parked in the street. Amy pulled down a side street and parked about four blocks away.

“Can’t give it away, or the neighbors will call the cops,” she claimed as she climbed out, leaving Julie to sit gripping her knees in panic. “Come on, already. Jesus.” She tugged Julie out of the car, leaning her against the door after she shut it, and digging in her purse for something. She pulled out a makeup compact and some lipstick. Julie shook her head. Amy shoved them into her friend’s hand. “Put some on. You are pretty and all, but you gotta look like you wanted to come to a party.”

Julie’s hands shook so hard she dropped the compact. Amy tsked and picked it up, patted some of the powder on Julie’s face, smeared her lips with the gooey stuff that smelled so strongly of strawberries she had to repress the urge to lick it all off.

Amy grinned at her. “Better. Now, let’s hit this.”

Julie nodded, but her whole body felt encased in ice, then fire, then ice again as she followed Amy around the corner.

Chapter Four

It took an hour for Julie to get her bearings and figure out that the real party was occurring in the large, dark basement. Upstairs, teenagers milled around, ate chips and popcorn, played video games, and drank from the ubiquitous plastic red cups. She knew everyone there, but had no idea how to fit in, how to “party” and “hang out” as Amy admonished her to do when they hit the door. Julie had plucked at her friend’s arm and nearly burst into anxious tears.