The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (195 page)

“I thought you were on lockdown,” he said when he answered. “You getting time off for good behavior?”

“Something like that.”

“How's it going with the publicity chick?”

“Pretty good, actually,” I said. “She's cool and it's been alright so far.” I wasn't going to tell him about the kiss. I wasn't going to share that with anyone.

“Yeah?” he said. “Or is she sitting right there?”

“She's not here,” I said. “Truth. Been alright.”

“You actually sound sober, so that's a good thing,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, not in the mood for a lecture. “Listen, I have a question for you.”

“You got five minutes before a pizza calls my name.”

“You ever hear of a guy named Leo Bellori?” I asked.

Matty was a wealth of information when it came to surfing in Southern California. He'd hung around the scene since he was in elementary school and he knew anybody who was anybody. He could find you every secret break along the coast, too, but it was people he knew. Never forgot a name or a face.

“Sure,” he said. “San Diego kid. Think his home break was Moonlight? Maybe Swami's? North County San Diego, anyway.”

“He could surf?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “Better than a lot of the locals. Had some local sponsors, but nothing big. Never broke out because he was an asshole.”

“Like how?”

“Like he ran with some small crew,” he answered. “Like he liked to go around and act like he owned whatever break he was at. You know what I mean. Assholes that act like beaches belong to them because their parents had enough cash to buy a house there.”

I did know what he meant. It was that locals only mentality that prevailed at certain beaches up and down the coast. If you weren't known to the guys who surfed there every day, then you weren't welcome. And rather than explain the local rules to a new guy, they'd just chase him away and more often than not, it was with violence. Intimidation. Threats. Punches.

“I saw him surf a couple of times,” Matty continued. “He was pretty decent. Good feel for the water. He had a brother that was actually better than he was, but not sure what happened to him. Hopefully not the same as Leo.”

“Why?” I asked. “What happened to him?”

“Seriously? I thought you were asking because you already knew.”

“I don't know anything about him.”

“Oh, man,” Matty said. “Alright. So think it was maybe three years ago? Not exactly sure. Anyway, he and a couple of his buddies in his little asshole crew have some beef with another guy apparently. Don't even know what it was about, but was probably just Leo being an asshole. So they run into the guy they don't like one night at a party. Everybody starts mouthing off, pushing and shoving, blah blah blah. Bunch of dumbasses swinging their dicks around. So the guy leaves the party, but Leo and his pals aren't done and they go after him. Got ugly.”

I shifted on the couch, stretching out my legs. Three years ago. I'd been in Australia with Jay for the better part of the year, with a stop in South Africa for a couple of tourneys. “How ugly?”

“Ugly as it can get,” he said. “Think it was Leo and two other guys. They apparently jump the other guy in the street. He fends off the two other guys, but not Leo. Leo takes him out with one punch that busted his jaw.”

“So just a street fight,” I said.

“I didn't finish,” Matty said. “Leo knocked the guy out. The guy fell down and cracked his head on the pavement. Guy died.”

“Aw, shit,” I said, wincing.

“Right?” Matty said. “Why you think I get freaked out every time you get drunk and start doing stupid shit? That shit happens. Leo was an asshole, but I doubt he meant to kill the guy. He was drunk and he was being stupid.”

“What happened to him?”

“Other two guys testified against him,” he explained. “Said he was the one who instigated everything, was the one that hit him and took him out. That all of them ran from the scene.” He paused. “He's doing twenty five years down near Otay.”

My stomach sank. “Serious?”

“Yep. Can't remember what they charged him with, but it was like manslaughter or some shit like that,” Matty said. “And he'd had other convictions, too. Small time stuff. So he's down there for awhile.”

I flashed back to my fight with Keith Branagan a few nights earlier. If a couple of things went a different way, I could've been in the same spot as Gina's brother. One punch and the rest of your life disappears because you couldn't stop and think straight. I'd put myself in those spots all too often. I'd gotten lucky. Her brother hadn't.

“Where'd his name come up?” Matty asked.

“I was just screwing around on the Internet,” I said quickly. “Saw his name as a winner at Swami's. Just curious.”

“Right,” he said. “Alright my pizza's here. Gotta roll. Call you later, kid.”

We hung up and I set my phone on the table next to the couch. I typed Leo Bellori's name into the search engine and several articles from the San Diego paper immediately appeared, detailing the assault, the death, and the sentencing. The first one I clicked on featured a photo of Leo, sitting in court in an orange jumpsuit, staring straight ahead, expressionless.

There was no doubt.

Looking at that face, he was Gina's brother.

TWENTY TWO

Gina

––––––––

“H
e'll be happy to see you,” Anthony said.

I shrugged.

We were standing in line outside Donovan State Prison, a stone's throw from the Mexican border, waiting to be processed for visiting Leo. We'd gotten there first thing in the morning. I'd barely slept and was nearly out of coffee, feeling like I did every other time I'd visited my brother in prison.

Conflicted.

The line shuffled forward in the morning sunlight.

“I came down about a month ago,” he said. “He looked pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He asked about you.”

“Good for him.”

He squinted at me. “Are you gonna go in here and be a bitch to him? Because if you are...”

“Have I ever done that, Anthony?” I asked frowning at him. “Have I ever gone in here and done that?”

“Well, no.”

“Exactly. No. And I'm not going to start today. But don't stand here and tell me it should be the same for me as it is for you. You know damn well it's not. So back off.”

He nodded and we took a few more steps forward. “What's Handler like?”

When I'd called him the night before to tell him I'd be going with to see Leo, I mentioned the project I was working on. Kellen. I did not tell him that we'd kissed or that I was all screwed up over it. “He's fine.”

“No, I mean is he like an ass or not?”

“Not.”

“What was the shit about him punching some guy out in Huntington Beach last weekend?”

“He was totally baited,” I said. “And trust me, he was. That's not me spinning something. He tried to walk away and couldn't. Wasn't his fault.”

Anthony nodded. “Decent guy, though?”

Kellen was more than decent. He was kind and funny and disarmingly handsome and a great goddamn kisser. He'd apologized for crossing the line with me, even though I wasn't sure I wanted him to be sorry about it. Even though I wasn't sure I wouldn't let him do it again.

“Yeah, he really is,” I said.

“You tell him about Leo?”

“I try not to tell every person I meet that our brother is in prison for murder.”

He frowned. “Not what I meant. I meant surfing.” He paused, his mouth twisting a little. “And he isn't in for murder, Gina. It wasn't intentional and you know it. No matter what you think, you know he didn't do it on purpose.”

I looked away from him. I suppose I did know that, but it wasn't always easy to remember it that way.

“Yes, I told him my idiot brothers were surfers,” I said. “And that you both sucked.”

He made a fist and punched me lightly in the arm. “Shut up.”

I smiled. It was always like this with him. We had differing opinions and feelings about Leo, but Anthony and I found a way to work it out despite those differences. It could've ripped us apart because he had immediately defended Leo's actions and that had almost destroyed me. But we'd somehow managed to maintain our relationship even as we sat on opposite sides of the fence. Not just maintain; we were probably closer because of it. And I knew that, without Anthony's prodding, I would've let Leo rot in prison. There were still days where I woke up and that was all I wanted, for him to rot and take the memories with him. But I knew it wasn't healthy and there was still a part of me that wanted to forgive Leo.

I just wasn't sure I knew how to do it.

We checked in at the window, handing over our I.D.s and signing in on the roster. The woman behind the plexiglass directed us to the waiting room, where we stood with a group of about twenty other people who were whispering and fidgeting anxiously. No one ever seemed excited to be going to prison to visit anyone. Everyone always seemed on edge, no matter how many times they might have gone there.

Two officers came into the room, reminded us of the limited contact rules and ushered us into a room that resembled a cafeteria filled with long tables and chairs. Anthony and I took the one we always did, far left side, middle of the room. There was no reason for that location. We'd just always sat that one and there was something about sticking to that routine that gave the visits a tiny sense of normalcy.

We waited while the inmates entered, one at a time, their eyes searching the room until they found a familiar face, relief settling on their own faces that someone had showed up for them.

Leo was the seventh one to enter. His orange jumpsuit was tight around his thick neck and shoulders; it looked almost too small for him. His black hair was longer than the previous year, combed back off his forehead and down behind his ears. It made him look younger. His golden tan was long gone, his skin paler and smoother then when he'd used to spend all of his waking hours in the sun. He moved slowly, scanning the room, then smiled when he saw us. Anthony held up a hand to greet him.

Anthony stood and they hugged quickly, mindful of the watchful eyes of the prison officials and the rules prohibiting prolonged contact. Anthony whispered something in his ear and Leo smiled again.

I didn't stand.

Leo smiled at me as he sat down on the chair on the other side of the table. “Hey, Gina.”

“Happy birthday, Leo.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate you coming.”

“We always come on your birthday,” Anthony said.

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you forgot the cake, though.”

“Same joke as last year,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “And it's still not funny.”

Leo chuckled. “Oldie but goodie.”

Anthony kept up the conversation, asking Leo what he'd been doing, if he was okay. He'd gotten a job in one of the offices, doing some minimal paperwork and photocopying. He was doing alright. He'd been playing a little basketball, lifting, staying in shape.

I stayed silent.

“Guess who sis is working with these days?” Anthony asked.

Leo glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Kellen Handler,” I said.

He raised the other eyebrow. “No shit?”

“None,” I said, shaking my head.

“I read he got in some trouble last weekend,” Leo said. “That why?”

I nodded. “Yeah, more or less.”

Leo nodded, approving. “That boy can ride.”

Anthony nodded. “Yes, he can.”

They lapsed into a conversation about surfing and surfers and Anthony started detailing a trip he took down to Cabo with some friends. Watching them, it was like they were back in high school, excited by the ocean and all the things they could do in it. It took me back and for a moment, we weren't sitting in the visiting area of the state prison' we were back in the living room of our house, without black memories hanging over us.

We made small talk for another half an hour, mostly between the two of them, me adding a word here or there. This was how it always went. It wasn't awkward. It was just what it had become.

And then came the next part of our routine.

“I should give you guys a minute,” Anthony said, glancing first at me, then at Leo.

Neither of us said anything.

Anthony stood and Leo did, too. They hugged quickly.

Anthony put a hand on my shoulder. “Meet you outside.”

I nodded and watched him leave the room.

I turned back to Leo.

“You look good,” he said.

“You, too.”

He shrugged. “Good as I can, I guess.”

“You do,” I said.

He nodded slowly, rubbing at his chin. “You doing alright?”

“I'm busy,” I said. “I'm working a ton. But I don't mind. It's good.”

“That's good,” he said. “But not what I meant.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I know.”

He swallowed and looked away from me for a moment, his eyes moving around the room before coming back and settling on me. “I'm sorry, Gina.”

“I know, Leo.”

“Do you?”

I waited, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Because I am, Gina,” he said, staring at me. “I was sorry the second it happened.”

“I know that. That's why you ran.”

He folded his hands together and set them on the table. “That's not what I mean.”

“It's the truth,” I said.

He started to say something, then pressed his lips together. He blinked several times, but not because his eyes were filled with tears.. “Yeah. It is. I was scared and I was stupid. I wish it had never happened. And not just because I'm in here.” He paused. “For you, too.”

It was my turn to look around the room at all of the fractured families. I always wondered who was who – who were the wives, who were the parents, who were the kids. The room had a way of turning everyone into the same person. A person who had lost a family member to crime, to the system.

I looked at Leo. “I know.”

“So if you know, why can't you forgive me?”

It was the first time he'd ever asked me that directly and it caught me off-guard. That wasn't part of our routine. I wasn't ready for that question.

“I don't know,” I finally said.

“You don't know,” he repeated, skeptical.