Still Jaded (4 page)

"Jealousy things?"

Raz nodded. He didn't blink. He was so serious. "My sis calls 'em jealousy fits. She suffers 'em all the time, but our preacher's trying to help her with them. I think
its part of having a vagina."

"Or low self-esteem." The line shifted again.
Hello coffee counter
.

As I gave my order, Raz bobbed his head next to me as if he had all the time in the world. "Anyway, I saw you in line and got so excited because I remembered your game room. I am hyped for the party."

"It's you and Pac Man all night again?" I grinned, but then I got my coffee. All sense left my body.
Heaven.

"Yeah, man. Not a lot of girls are into it, but I love that stuff. That's gonna be my future." He snagged a sugar for himself. After he opened it, he tipped his head back and swallowed the contents. Then he continued without missing a beat, "Anyways, you're a rad girl. You're buds with Corrigan, and Bryce Scout is my soccer god, so I consider you family. If you ever want me
to throw coffee on the likes of that Dorothy chick again, let me know. We're like the mafia in that way."

"Her name was Dorothy?" That perked my ears.

"Hmm what?" Raz tried to look confused. He failed.

"She never introduced herself." I caught the lie, and he crumbled, but did so cutely. "She's in one of my political science classes. The girl is chick-smart, man. I didn't like how she treated you, though. You're family, so chick smart nothing. She's gotta go down."

"Let me guess, that's how you roll?"

Mental note: stop at the coffee kiosk every morning. So entertained.

He bobbed his head some more. "That's how my brothers roll. We take care of our own, and like I said, you're familia. You and your beau."

"Bryce will be happy to know that."

"I'll see you later tonight. We're playing sloshball. It's the ultimate game."

He bounded away in all his glorious surfer good looks, but I had to admit, I enjoyed the morning. Then, I thought about the party at their fraternity, and the knot came back again.

After my classes that day, I went to Donadeli's, Of course, it wasn't Donadeli's anymore. It had been sold. Marcus' family had moved. No one wanted to stay around a place where people knew your son had killed two girls, raped one of them, nearly killed Corrigan, and attempted to kill the object of his obsession—me. I would've left too.

So the old hangout was now called Sparky's. It was owned by another Italian family, but had been given a makeover. Instead of an Italian eatery, Sparky's resembled a fifties diner, complete with roller skates for the servers.

As soon as I slid into my normal corner booth, I glanced up and realized why Dorothy might not have liked me. She was one of the servers, and, judging by her grim look, I was pretty sure I was currently seated in her section.

I knew then that she had waited on me before.

As she started to roll my way, I sat back and considered calling Raz to come and eat with me.

"Can I get you a beverage to start?" she asked. The smile was forced.

"So you did have a change of clothes." I gestured towards her uniform, a pink vest over a black ruffled skirt. Her two dreadlocks had been pulled up in a ponytail, held together by a black ribbon. "I wouldn't want to wear that to classes either."

She kept her glare in check. "Do you want something to drink?"

"I'm sorry if I've been rude to you some other time. I'm just…no excuse, that's just what I do. I understand where the attitude comes from." I gestured to her and leaned back.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the doorbell jingled and Bryce entered. He stopped in the doorway, and all conversation lulled. I wasn't sure if it was the sight of the local jock celebrity or because Bryce had that natural charisma, but he demanded attention, always had, and it was usually the kind that set cops on edge, sent women into heat, and sparked worship from men. It didn't matter—people noticed him. And Dorothy was no exception.

He scanned the diner for me and then strolled towards me with that natural athletic physique.

Dorothy shifted on her feet when Bryce slid into the booth across from me.

"Hey," I murmured.

Bryce grinned and looked at Dorothy. "Did you order yet?"

Dorothy jumped.

It took me a moment to realize that he addressed me. "Uh, no, not yet. Dorothy and I were making peace."

She furrowed her brows.

"Or I had thought we were. You want a beer or something?"

"Yeah. I'll have a tall one on tap." He then shifted his attention to the menu before him.

"I'll have the same."

Dorothy skirted her gaze between Bryce and me. She wanted
Bryce, that was obvious. The dilemma was that she couldn't ask him for identification without asking for mine as well. I knew she wanted to deny my drink, but she didn't want to deny him
anything
.

I smiled when Dorothy snapped her mouth closed and turned on her heel. As she stalked to the bar, I watched her shove the mugs underneath the tap before catching Bryce's smirk.

"What?"

"You are not twenty-one."

"Bite me."

"I do. Often."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up. And how'd you know I was here? You got GPS on me?"

Bryce chuckled and threw his arm on the back of his booth. "Corrigan told me you come here on Thursdays. I didn't believe him, not at first, but he kept insisting. Then he said you were an 'effing moron' so I knew it was true." He leaned closer. "Why do you come here?"

I knew the question was coming, but I didn't have an answer.

"It can't be because of the memories. We weren't very nice people back then."

"I was, just to the wrong person."

Bryce pondered that a moment and then started laughing. He shook his head. "Do you realize that you are mean to most people, but the one person you
were nice to was a serial killer?"

I glared. "You're not making me feel better."

Bryce shrugged. "You're the idiot who comes here. He screwed up our lives, Sheldon. I don't get why you want to remember him."

I stared at him. "He screwed up my life. He killed Leisha and Bailey. He didn't screw up your life. You still went to Europe."

Bryce shot forward, "You are still furious about that, aren't you? You came with me, Sheldon. You didn't have to. I didn't make you."

I leaned to meet him halfway across the table, "And what else was I supposed to do? Be here alone? I killed someone. No matter how much he deserved it, I ended a human life. You don't think that ate me up inside? I may be a bitch, but I'm not heartless."

Two mugs of beer plopped down. Our heated discussion stopped as Bryce and I both leaned back and turned our attention toward our server. An unnamed emotion was brimming in her eyes as she looked between us. "Do you know what you want to order?"

Bryce cursed. "A burger and fries for me."

"What? No salad?" I taunted. "Aren't you in training? Don't the nutritionists have something to say about your diet?"

Bryce glared long and hard but didn't say a word.

I expelled a ragged sigh in an attempt to calm down and crossed my arms tight over my chest. After a few seconds of silence, I looked back and saw both Dorothy and Bryce were waiting for me.

"What?" I broke out.

Bryce ordered for me. "She'll have a side salad, Caesar dressing."

Dorothy closed her order pad, but I stopped her. "No. I want mashed potatoes. I want the cheesy ones…with bacon."

"Okay." She frowned as she scribbled the rest.

"You don't like potatoes." Bryce halted her with his words.

I clipped out, "I do now."

Bryce rolled his eyes and leaned back. Dorothy crept away.

"Is that why you come here? To remember how to be a bitch?"

I growled and my hands clenched the end of the table. "Marcus didn't make me a bitch. He just loved me because I
wasn't
a bitch to him."

Bryce shook his head, his lip curled at the corner. "Marcus didn't love you. Trust me. I have some knowledge on loving you, and he did not. He was sick, deranged, and pathetic."

"He was dangerous."

"No. He was underestimated because he appeared weak. And he was. He manipulated and maneuvered, but he was weak in the end. You bested him."

"He hurt Corrigan."

"And he killed Leisha and Bailey because they weren't expecting it, not from him. But don't do that, don't give him more credit than he deserves. He was spineless. And coming here, paying tribute to him—I think it's the worst thing you could do."

I felt slapped by his words. "It's not about him. It's about me, Bryce."

Bryce glared for a moment, and then he started to laugh. "God, you just—you make me so angry. No one else can do that, Sheldon."

I felt the sudden break from the tension. "Yeah, well, I love you too."

The laughter vanished, and he whispered, "I love you—you know how much."

"Oh god. We're becoming one of those cheesy teen movies. Can we stop? Please. I'm not going to proclaim how I'll name my seventh son after your grandfather's grandfather."

Bryce grinned and laughed.

When she delivered our food, Dorothy eyed us in confusion. She asked once if she could get us anything else, but Bryce answered when he saw me look down. I didn't want to talk to her. I wasn't sure why, I just knew I didn't want to deal with her. He could, and he did. After taking a few bites, he stopped eating and sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "You haven't touched your potatoes."

"I don't like 'em."

Bryce snorted but took another bite of his burger. After a mouthful, he gestured again. "I can get her back. You could get a salad."

I shook my head. I had lost my appetite at some point. But then a different idea came to me. "Corrigan's playing sloshball at the house. Let's go."

Bryce frowned. "What?"

"Sloshball. If we go now, we can still make it." I was burning up inside. I needed to get out of there.

"Am I supposed to know what that is? And they're playing at your house?"

"At the frat house. Let's go. Now." I stood up, but Bryce hardly looked at me. He stopped eating as something dawned on him. Then he nodded and stood up to pull out some money. As he placed a twenty on the table, he murmured, "Okay. Let's go."

Bryce placed his hand on the small of my back. Something inside of me felt settled inside. I could breathe again.

As we got into the red Miata, I looked up and saw Dorothy at the door. There was a blank look in her eyes. She knew that I had caught her staring, but she didn't look away. A shiver went down my spine.

"What's wrong?"

I jumped in my seat. "Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

I reached for my seatbelt. "Nothing. Let's just go."

I didn't want to think of the empty look on Dorothy's face. It reminded me of someone else.

As we drove closer to the college, I gave Bryce directions, and it wasn't long before we turned the corner to find the street packed with cars. The frat house, in all its three story paint-peeling gloriousness, was crawling with bodies. The front lawn was packed with students. Most of the girls wore bikinis, halter-tops, and mini-skirts. The majority of guys were shirtless.

Bryce paused in front of the house but started to pull away just as a guy flung himself into the street and jumped on top of the Miata.

We found ourselves staring into the drunken features of one of Corrigan's frat brothers as he slurred, "We were told to stop any red Miata that drove past the house. Brother Corrigan gave us strict instructions, and if you are the homosapiens named Bryce and Sheldon, you are ordered to relinquish control of this automobile for the pleasure of valet parking."

I snorted. Bryce laughed and handed over the keys.

As we headed inside, conversations quieted. People stopped and stared, and I knew it wasn't because of my sparkling demeanor. Bryce had grown immune to the attention when he was ten, but I'd just had a year of invisibility and was out of practice. I jumped when Bryce's hand found the small of my back again.

Raz marched over to us and flashed a stupid grin. He wore a white tee shirt that, after one whiff, I knew was soaked with beer. His jeans were ripped and soaked as well.

"Hey, Rad Girl."

Bryce glanced at me from the corner of his eye. I shrugged. "There was coffee."

"And a Dorothy chick, but she's going down."

I added, "It's the mafia way."

"Oh yes. The preacher will come calling." Raz scratched his forehead. He thought a moment, frowned, and then flashed his pearly whites once more. "Would you like beer?"

Bryce replied, "That would be great."

"Beer will come."

"We are homosapiens," I joked.