Whiskey and a Gun (3 page)

"Interesting," Tawny says as she stands up and stretches. Her tank top rises, revealing a length of creamy flesh. Her belly button is pierced with a dangling jewel and it sways against her peach stomach. I tear my eyes away from her taunting body. What the fuck is up with girls today?

"You never answered my first question."
 

"Uh, what was it, again?"
Deny, deny, deny.
 

"What were you doing in the grass?"

"Oh, that question." I shrug. "I was exploring."
 

Her lips quiver like she doesn't know whether to smile or frown. "Now tell me the real reason."

Who is this girl? Do I tell the truth or lie?

I look past her to the dump of a trailer behind. The paneling is a faded Pepto-Bismol color, the front window is shattered, and the steps are rotted. The entire thing is just laughable. She might actually have it worse than I do.
 

"I was fighting with my brothers. Had to get away for a while. I swear, I didn't know you lived here."

She relaxes and accepts this answer. "Siblings, huh? I'm glad I don't have any of those."

"You should be. I fucking hate mine." I can't believe I just admitted that, but Tawny arches her eyebrow and grins.
 

"Tell me how you really feel, jeez. Have to be home at a certain time?"

"No." Yes.

"Great. Then come with me." She grabs my hand and pulls me out of the chair. Her hand is cold, even though it's warm out and her fire is still smoking.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see. We have to make a stop first."
 

I pull my hand from hers. This could get bad. Fast. If I involve her in my life…who knows what might happen to her? "Actually, thanks for the chat, but I think I should probably go home."

She taps her foot while one hand rests at her hip. "You just told me you didn't have to."
 

I've memorized every inch of my father's fist—the way his knuckles jut out at a deadly angle and the faint black hair that stands on edge right before it meets flesh. Visions of my unhinged jaw and blood trickling down my chin play in my mind as I think about being late.

My skin tingles with warning. It says,
go home, don't do it
. She's not worth a broken jaw or another hole in the wall. But when I look at Tawny, I see a person so sure of herself, her confidence spilling over to dangerous territories. She's not the kind of girl to give in. Which makes me want to know her. To be her. Tawny flashes me a smile and I see what I didn't before. This girl is going to be an adventure.
 

"So, which is it?" she asks.

"I'm coming with you," I say.

2000

Eric's parties remind me of the ones on those stupid made-for-TV movies. You know, the ones where the house is so full of people they filter onto the porch, garage, and roof. Everywhere I look, there are people. Most of them are already stumbling around drunk, acting like assholes.
 

Little wisps of smoke filter through an open window beside me, and I breathe in the unmistakable mixture of skunk and burning rope. It reminds me of the time I smoked pot with Chance Walters. Except instead of melting into a chair, contemplating the meaning of life while I hoist chip after chip into my mouth, my muscles ache with tension. and I'm as not chill as I can get. I'd ask for a hit if Tawny didn't have a vice grip on my arm.

Her expression is a mixture of disgust and unease. She begged me to stay home with her tonight, but I'm tired of sitting on her fucking couch doing nothing. A guy can only screw so many times before boredom sets in.

"And you thought this would be fun? So far it looks pretty lame to me." She sneers at a girl tripping over her heels.
 

"Give it a little bit. Once Grayson and Courtney get here, it'll get better."

She gives me her classic “yeah, right” look, and I try to ignore it. I don't know why I even bothered to bring her along when all she does is complain.

Her hand rubbing circles into the fabric of my back pocket erases any doubt I have, though. I glance over to her and she bats her eyes in the way that drives me crazy. She pulls herself tight against me, and the heat of her skin against mine drives a flurry of currents down my body. Maybe I was wrong about the amount of times I can screw…

"What are you two losers doing in the corner?" Grayson's voice carries over the drunken idiots that are yelling at each other in front of us.
 

I point to them and shout, "Avoiding shit like that!"

Grayson shakes his head and laughs, but he pulls Courtney through the crowd until they fill the space beside us.
 

"Wasn't sure if you guys would show," Courtney says, giving us the once-over.
 

I shrug and smile. "Nothing better to do."
 

Grayson nudges me in the arm. "Have you seen Bridget yet?"

Tawny's face darkens, serial-killer style. She
really
hates Bridget. Just last week, Tawny caught her giving me "flirty eyes." I pretended not to notice.
 

"I didn't even know she was here," I say, though I assumed she would be.
 

"She's wearing the shortest dress I've ever seen. I don't know how it even covers her ass. And she's wasted. Ten bucks says one of the guys here will take a nose dive into her crotch." Grayson's voice has a twinge of jealousy to it and Courtney's ever-present scowl intensifies, but she doesn't say anything. Grayson's a you-get-what-you-see type of guy; there's no changing that dude.

"And this surprises you?" Tawny says, glowering.

"Not really," Grayson says.
 

There's a beat of silence between us all, something that's been happening more and more often. I want to blame it on the fact that we hardly hang out anymore, but who am I kidding? I hide behind that reason. Grayson doesn't "get" my relationship with Tawny as much as I don't "get" his obsession with varsity football. He's an okay linebacker, but he sure as hell doesn't do it because he loves to play. He thrives on the attention he gets from the other guys. The ones who have girlfriends who look like Bridget and scholarships to Harvard and Yale. I'm about to break the silence when Courtney grabs Tawny's hand. "C'mon, I'm gonna need a drink to deal with hornball here."
 

Tawny glances at me like she's waiting for my permission. I nod, and the girls push through dancing drunks.
 

Grayson nudges me in the arm again. "So. How are things goings with the Ice Queen?"

Grayson’s glassy red eyes show me what I missed earlier. The fucker is drunk already. Not that it makes his dig excusable, but Grayson always says things he doesn't mean when he's had a few too many.

"Don't call her that. And they're great, actually."
 

He arches his eyebrows. "Really? Because I just don't see it. I mean, sure, she's hot in that punk, my-girlfriend-could-knock-me-on-my-ass kinda way. But you and her? You come from different worlds."

The fire in my fists makes its way up my arm. I'd have no qualms about breaking Grayson's nose, but a scream stops me.
 

"Get off of me, you psycho bitch!"
 

The crowd is so thick around the voices that I can’t see anything. I search until I find a place between two people. I spot Tawny's black sweater and ripped jeans on the ground, and I run faster than I ever have. I dart through the bodies until I'm at the edge of the ring, where and Tawny has Bridget pinned to the ground. There's not even a contest: Tawny is straight up kicking Bridget's ass.
 

"Shut the fuck up, Barbie.” Tawny's voice escalates to a roar as the crowd starts to chant. "Isn't this what you wanted when you started talking shit? You didn't think I could fuck you up, did you?"
 

The fact that my girlfriend is rolling on the ground pummeling another girl gets me so hot, I could burst right there. Pride swells in my heart until I realize most of the cheering and yelling is for Bridget—
not
Tawny.
 

I could shrink back into the crowd and leave her. But when I look back to their tangled bodies, her glance catches mine, and she smiles. She's fucking smiling like she's winning something important. I move like a ninja.

I find the sculpted arms of my girlfriend and pull her up. She kicks and screams at me, but I drown everything out. I toss her over my shoulder when she's freed from Bridget and we move through the crowd, the jeers telling us we're not wanted anyway.
 

Outside, the thick, humid air has a calming effect. I set Tawny down on the ground.

"What the hell were you thinking, Tawny?" I yell.

She wipes the blood from beneath her nose, admiring it on her hand like it's a medal.
 

"Jesus, did you hear me? What is
wrong
with you?"

She squints at me and holds her hand out for me to pull her up. I ignore it. She shrugs and stands on her own, even though her legs are wobbly. "That bitch was mouthing off about how I'm a piece of white trash, and that when you're tired of kissing the bottom of the trash can, you'll come crawling back to her."

"She said that?" I choke. Even though I could give two shits about Bridget, I wonder if that's what everyone else thinks.
 

"Yes."

"Well, dammit, you can't go around knocking people out every time they say something that pisses you off."

She laughs like a maniac. All wild and loud. "Really? You mean I shouldn't act like your father?"

I glance around for half a second—to make sure no one's nearby—before I charge her. I manage to grab a fistful of shirt, and yank her backward. She falls on her ass hard enough that the thump surprises me. I lean over her hunched body. "Don't you
ever
talk about my father like that."

"Carter! What the hell are you doing?" Grayson rushes toward me. The fury still rings in my ears.

"Go inside, Grayson. This isn't your business."

He puts his hands up in front of him. "Whoa. Carter, what's up, man? You can't push her around like that. Tell me what's going on."

"Didn't you hear them in there? She's embarrassing me, and herself."

"Why do you give a shit? That's what you signed up for when you got with Tawny. I hate to say I told you so
‒
"
 

He doesn't finish his sentence before my fist flies at him. It's a one-two-bam, and then he's on the ground, out cold.
 

Shit. Fuck. Damn. What the hell did I do?

I bend down and shake him. "Grayson! Grayson! Wake up. You have to wake up."

A scream echoes from the doorway, where Courtney stands frozen, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh my God. What happened?"

I wipe the perspiration from my forehead. I should have just stayed at home with Tawny and screwed her. Would have been a hell of a lot less drama-filled than things are right now.

Grayson sputters and comes to life before I have to answer Courtney. I lean him up slowly in case I knocked something loose inside that thick skull of his. He rubs his head and groans.

"Fuck. That shit hurt, Carter. You been working out?"

I'm so relieved that I almost hug him. I smile and clap him on the back. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think… I can't believe I did that."

"You got a wicked left hook."

"So…you're not mad?"

"Nah, man. I probably had it coming. Plus, now I'm gonna have a sweet black eye to show. I've never been hit before, so congrats for popping my black-eye cherry."

A real, genuine laugh comes out. Sometimes I don't get the dude, but I'm not going to complain. Courtney comes over and starts fawning over Grayson, and I think maybe I did him a favor.
 

"You ready to go?" Tawny asks over my shoulder, as if nothing happened.
 

Does she not realize what a mess she just caused? I stand up and reach for her hand, but she steps away from me.
 

We walk to my car in silence, my mouth dry with the words I should say aloud. Every muscle trembles as I realize what I could have done. I almost hit my girlfriend. I open her car door, but I don't let her in right away.
 

"Tawny…I can't even tell you how sorry I am."

She cups my face in her hands. "I know. That was really stupid of me. I mean, I don't regret beating the shit out of Bridget, but I shouldn't have said that about your father. I know how much you hate him."

I bring her face to mine and let our lips linger so close they're almost touching. The hot air of our breath is the only thing between us and I close the gap, sucking in her bottom lip. The slight sting of alcohol is on her breath and I breathe it in. I pull away from her before I'm forced to strip her down in front of God and everybody else.
 

#

We were going to make out and fuck when we got back to Tawny's but her mom is passed out on the couch and neither of us feels like dealing with her when she wakes up from her drug-induced slumber. Tawny tiptoes to the kitchen and comes out with her hands full of two glasses, a corkscrew and a bottle of red wine.

"Want to go sit in the dividing line and get wasted?"

I shrug. It's not like I have any better ideas. Well, I do, but it's a little hard to do that in a bunch of tall grass. "Sure."

We set up in our usual spot, an area we conquered inside the dividing line. It's really just matted down grass that keeps us hidden from view.
 

We get the wine flowing and before I know it, we're laughing about earlier.

"You should have seen her face after I knocked her to the ground. Priceless!"
 

"I'm not sure how I feel about dating a girl who can kick someone's ass like that."
 

She fingers the waistband of my jeans and giggles. "Don't act like it didn't impress you."

I bend down to kiss her head. "I guess it did."

She spins her body around so her head is in my lap and she scratches the stubble on my neck. "Carter?"