She leaned back against my arm. ‘I’m not mad any more that you didn’t tell me you were Landon. The only reason I was angry was because I thought you were playing me, but it was the opposite of that.’ She touched my face as the sheet drifted lower. ‘I could never be afraid of you,’ she whispered.
I transferred the brownie plate to the night table and turned her to face me, straddling my lap. As I touched, kissed and sucked her breasts, and she ran her magic fingers through my hair and over my skin, my body woke fully.
‘Should I get, um …’ she whispered, and I nodded. She leaned to the nightstand drawer and came back with a cellophane square. ‘Can I … or is that too –?’
‘God, yes – please.’ I’d never had a girl roll a condom on to me before. I assumed, as her cool little fingers pressed it on and down, expertly, that I was the inexperienced one in this moment. And oh, my God, I was okay with that.
23
Landon
Landing a part-time job was more problematic than I’d assumed it would be. In a small town, with a known probated assault in my none-too-distant past, managers weren’t jumping at the chance to have me on the payroll.
Plumbing the depths, I asked for an application at the very last fast-food place I would ever want to work, and still heard: ‘You can fill this out, but we’re not really hiring right now.’ It was almost summer – the busiest time of year for every business in this beach town. Not hiring my ass. I stared at the manager’s short-sleeved dress shirt and polyester tie as I took the sheet from his hand, which would take fifteen minutes to fill out. For nothing.
‘Ain’t you Ray’s boy? Edmond’s grandson?’
I turned to find one of the town’s crotchety-looking old guys peering up at me. They weren’t scarce around here. This one was shorter and wider than me, sporting a pair of red canvas coveralls that resembled prison threads too closely, with exception of Hendrickson Electric & AC monogrammed on the chest. He tipped his tray of wadded wrappers and cartons into the trash and turned back.
‘Yes, sir.’ I stuck a hand out. ‘Landon Maxfield.’
He shook my hand in a remarkably bone-crunching grip. ‘W. W. Hendrickson,’ he said, his local drawl shortening his initials to dubyah dubyah. ‘Needin’ a job, are ya? You don’t wanna work in this crap place.’ He shot a look at the manager, who reddened. ‘No offence, Billy.’
I got the feeling that Bill Zuckerman hadn’t gone by Billy in at least twenty years. He cleared his throat and struggled not to scowl, failing. ‘Uh, none taken, Mr Hendrickson.’
‘Hmph,’ Hendrickson said. ‘Come outside a minute, Landon. Talk to me.’ He motioned and I followed. ‘You work on the boat with your dad, I thought?’ We walked up to his truck and he leaned an elbow on the bed’s side.
I nodded. ‘Yes, sir. But I plan to go to college in a little over a year, and I’ll need work experience with a reference.’
‘Plan to scoot on outta town like yer dad did, do ya?’ he asked, but I couldn’t detect any malice in his tone.
‘Yes, sir. I plan to study engineering.’
His bushy brows elevated. ‘Ah, now that’s a levelheaded thing worth studyin’. I never could understand how your dad needed so much schoolin’ to study somethin’ done with smoke and mirrors.’
I pinned my lips together, knowing better than to try to explain my father’s multiple economics degrees to guys like Mr Hendrickson.
‘I’ll get to the point. I’m needin’ a new assistant. Before you jump at the opportunity, realize that you’ll probably get zapped a time or two afore you learn which wires to avoid. And I’ll be sending you into dark, hundred-and-twenty-degree attics where you’ll sweat buckets, get fibreglass in yer knees and ass, and may have the occasional critter skittering across your feet.’ He laughed, a near-silent snuffling sound through his nose. ‘I had one assistant go clean through a client’s ceilin’ because of a hissin’ possum. Landed in the middle of the livin’ room, luckily.’
Luckily? ‘Um, okay.’ I didn’t know what to say or ask.
‘Pay’s a couple bucks above minimum wage. No drinkin’, smokin’, hanky-panky with clients’ daughters – feel like I gotta mention that, you bein’ a looker like yer dad and also, I been there before.’
My face heated.
‘I assume you know all about computers and such?’ At my nod, he said, ‘Good. I could use some help with gettin’ my books on there. Come up to the twenty-first century afore it’s over. So. Whaddaya think?’
I got a job, I thought.
‘Well, Mr Maxfield. Here we are – the beginning of your senior year. I must admit, I never thought you’d make it this far.’
I stared at my principal and thought, No shit. Especially when you did everything in your power to make that true. Still, the brass balls of her to call me into her office just to say this to my face couldn’t mean anything good. She thought she was above everything and everyone, and within the confines of this school, she was right.
Nine months, I told myself. Nine months and I was out of here. I wouldn’t even pause to shake the dust off my boots.
So I said nothing. Merely returned her beady-eyed gaze with a flinty one of my own. She studied a slip of paper with my schedule printed on it. ‘I see you’ve signed up for calculus and physics.’ She glanced at me over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. ‘How … ambitious of you.’ Lips pressed closed, brows somewhat elevated, eyelids lowered – her entire expression displayed her scepticism that I was capable of the change I’d begun in the last few weeks of the previous year.
I wanted to flick those glasses and that condescension off her face.
Instead of responding, I repeated my mantra silently – the tenets I’d learned in my first month of martial arts, last spring: courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, indomitable spirit. Often, the functions of these blurred together – because each was interwoven through the others. If I failed one, I could fail them all. What good was integrity if I had no self-control?
So there I sat, waiting for Ingram to be done with me.
She wasn’t pleased with my muteness – that much was all too apparent. Her thin lips twisted. ‘I understand one of our star students assisted you in passing your classes last spring.’
Ah. Pearl.
Aside from the day she checked me for a punctured lung, Pearl Frank and I hadn’t ever spoken outside of Melody’s presence or Can you pass this forward classroom-type chatter. I almost didn’t respond when she touched my arm in the library last spring and asked, ‘Landon, are you okay?’
With six weeks of school remaining to learn the thirty weeks of stuff I’d failed to absorb plus the new material, I was going under. But I had no desire to confess that to Melody’s best friend, who also happened to be the smartest person in my graduating class.
I blinked and rolled my shoulders, popping my neck. ‘Yeah. Fine.’ I’d been stuck in a hair-clenching position for the entire hour of study hall, staring at a section in my chemistry textbook.
Her brows creasing, she gestured at the open text. ‘Why are you looking at that? We went over Dalton’s Law last six weeks.’
I shut the book, scowling and standing. ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t get it then, I don’t get it now.’ I loosened my grimace and shrugged. ‘No big deal.’
Pearl’s gaze missed very little. ‘But you’re studying it now because …’
I swallowed. I didn’t want to say it out loud – that I was making an eleventh-hour bid to alter my future. That I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it.
‘If you want, I can send you my notes from last six weeks, and you can ask me questions.’ Her dark eyes held a dare, not pity.
I nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Don’t be afraid to ask for help from your teachers, too. They’re just people, you know.’ I arched a brow and she smirked. ‘Well, most of them.’
Over the next several weeks, she saved me from failing my junior year – not just chemistry, but literature and pre-cal.
Thanks to her help, my brain woke up from three years of hibernation.
‘Pearl Frank?’ Mrs Ingram prompted now, as if I wouldn’t remember the tutoring or who gave it. I wasn’t sure how she knew, but I damned sure wasn’t going to ask.
‘Yes,’ I answered.
She hated me right now. In my first few months of taekwondo, I’d become more aware of the clues that someone was progressing from irritation to rage. Recognizing the level of likelihood that someone might fucking lose it any second was necessary for defence, after all. Her physical indications were minor, but they were there.
‘I understand you were arrested last spring for assault. Plea bargained to probation, fortunately.’ Fortunately was not what she wanted to call it.
I said nothing.
Pearl told me once that Ingram was the type of leader who believed in addition by subtraction. ‘It’s half genius, half cheating. They remove the lowest-scoring students, employees with bad service records, et cetera, which raises the overall score or ranking of the organization.’
Finally, Ingram broke rank and flat-out glared. ‘Why aren’t you answering me, Mr Maxfield?’
One brow angled. ‘You aren’t asking any questions.’
Her eyes blazed. ‘Let me be clear. I don’t know what game you’re playing here, or what your business is with Miss Frank, but I don’t want her valuable time wasted for your nonsense. I don’t believe for two seconds that you have the essential work ethics or the life and interpersonal skills necessary to represent this school and its exemplary educational standards.’
I bit my lip to keep from correcting her. According to the state, her school was far from exemplary.
I tuned her out as she blathered on about my lack of integrity and critical-thinking skills and respect for authority. Funny how people who railed about other people’s lack of respect usually weren’t willing to offer any in exchange.
When she stopped, my ears rang. ‘Do we understand each other, young man?’ She clearly expected an answer to more than that question – or a heated reaction. She was doomed to be disappointed.
‘I believe so. Are we finished here, Mrs Ingram?’ I stood, casting a broad shadow over her desk from the east-facing window behind me. ‘I have a class to get to. Unless you want to make me late the first day.’ On cue, the first bell rang.
She stood, but still craned her neck to look up at me. I’d reached my dad’s imposing height over the summer, and she didn’t care for me looming a foot over her. I slid a hand into my front pocket and shifted my weight to one side – as close to a ceasefire as I’d give her. I wasn’t fourteen any more, and this woman was not going to trash my chances of getting out of this town and into college.
‘You’re dismissed. But I’m watching you.’
Uh-huh, I thought, turning and leaving without response.
I wondered why in the hell someone like her would pursue a career in education in the first place, but I wouldn’t ask. Everyone isn’t logical. Everything doesn’t make sense in the end. Sometimes you have to forget about explanations or excuses and leave people and places behind, because otherwise they will drag you straight down.
LUCAS
Saturday morning, it had been thirty-something hours since I’d seen Jacqueline. Sergeant Ellsworth and I suited up for the final module in the locker room. The two of us weren’t supposed to arrive until halfway through the class, because we would serve only one purpose today: ‘attackers’, which necessitated emotional distance from the ‘victims’.
When we entered the room, fully padded, my eyes went to Jacqueline instantly. Along with the others, she was wearing all the protective gear. They resembled a tribe of mini sumo wrestlers. She looked up and saw me, quickly lowering her lashes and biting her lip, and I was struck with a graphic recollection of the hours we’d spent in my bed. By the looks of her shy grin, so was she.
Emotional distance. Right.
I wished, too late, that I’d outright asked Jacqueline to avoid going up against me. We could practise defences together, but this was different. As the attackers, Ellsworth and I would make audible comments. We would look for openings to attack. We wouldn’t release a ‘victim’ unless a defence blow was adequately delivered – and we’d both been trained to judge that point.
This section of the class was unnerving for me. Pretending to be a sexual predator always made me crave a scalding hot shower after.
As soon as the women finished reviewing moves with Watts, they’d be ready to do what Jacqueline told me her friend Erin termed serious junk kicking.
‘She’s only excited because she can practise doing it and not hurt you guys, because of the padding,’ she said as we dressed so I could take her back to the dorm late Thursday night.
‘Uh-huh,’ I said deadpan, and she laughed.
As she pulled on her gloves, her eyes skittering away from mine, she said, ‘Erin was the first person I told.’ Her voice was so soft. ‘I wish I’d told her sooner.’
I tipped her chin and pulled her close. ‘There’s no right or wrong way to be a survivor, Jacqueline. There’s no script.’ She swallowed and nodded, not quite convinced, yet, because of Mindi. ‘You survived, and so will she.’
I was up first. As I went to the mat, I felt Jacqueline’s eyes on me, and I prayed we wouldn’t be paired for this. Vickie was the first volunteer, and she kicked my ass in the best kind of way. I’d expected Erin might step forward first or second, but she hung back with Jacqueline, who seemed in no hurry to go at all. During Ellsworth’s turns on the mat, I watched the two of them root for their classmates, Erin screaming suggestions at the top of her lungs – ‘Head butt! LAWNMOWER! Kick him! Kick him HARDER!’ – while Jacqueline cheered and clapped.
Finally, Erin squeezed Jacqueline’s hand and stepped forward to fight Ellsworth, leaving only Jacqueline and one other, extremely timid woman who worked in the Health Centre. Ellsworth eyed Erin and mumbled, ‘If this one kicks my nuts up to my throat, you owe me, dude,’ before he stepped out. ‘I’m not so sure I trust the pads with her.’
If the ‘victim’ landed a good blow, we weren’t really going to feel it – hopefully. In my training class, they’d told us to find our inner thespians. Even so, when Erin nailed Ellsworth in the junk with a perfect sweep kick and he crumpled straight to the ground, I was a little worried. Eleven voices screamed, ‘RUN!’ but Erin had an inner thespian of her own. After launching herself off his chest, she turned round and kicked him twice before running to the safe zone, where she bounced around like she’d won the heavyweight championship.
Ellsworth rolled to his feet and gave me a thumbs up. Phew.
I went to the mat and waited. Gail from the Health Centre stepped out, so nervous she was shaking. At this point, some might have been tempted to tell her she didn’t have to do it. But she’d got this far. Time to prove to her that she’d learned something. Watts gave her quiet instructions, at first, encouraging her to hit harder. I went easy on her, but as she landed punches and kicks, and was cheered by her classmates, she kicked harder, hit harder, yelled no and get back louder. She was crying and smiling by the time we were done, surrounded and congratulated by the others.
For me, nothing compared to watching Jacqueline. Without direction, she executed a series of moves, and whether she landed them or not, she varied them. At one point, she appeared stuck in a front bear hug, until Erin hollered, ‘NUTSACK!’ loud enough to be heard in a neighbouring state, and Jacqueline brought her knee up, hard. Ellsworth went straight to the ground. She tore off towards the safety zone, where Erin tackled her in an enthusiastic hug. I was so proud of her – and I hoped to God she’d never have to use anything she’d just learned.
Sunday afternoon, Jacqueline and I took a final break from studying for finals. I packed coffee in thermoses and we headed to the lake. I wanted to sketch kayakers, who Jacqueline insisted were certifiably insane to be out on the lake in these temperatures. She huddled next to me on the bench, wrapped head to toe and still shi
vering. I wore my hoodie, but no gloves, and I’d discarded my leather jacket because I didn’t need it.
I called her a candyass for being such a cold-weather wimp, and she punched me in the shoulder. I saw it coming and could have blocked her, but I didn’t. ‘Ow, jeez – I take it back! You’re tough as nails. Total badass.’ I pulled her closer to warm her.
‘I throw a mean hammer-fist.’ Her words were almost inaudible, mumbled into my chest.
‘You do.’ I tipped her face up to mine. ‘I’m actually a little scared of you.’ My playful words were truer than she knew.
‘I don’t want you to be scared of me.’ Her words issued with small puffs of her breath, and I kissed her until her nose was warm against my cheek.
We went back to my apartment, where she reminded me of my request, weeks ago, that she leave me something to anticipate. ‘So, have you been … anticipating it?’ she asked. Our clothes were askew, but we’d got no further than a heated make-out on my sofa with Francis for a bored audience.
Had I been anticipating her hands and mouth on me? Uh … yeah.
Staring at my lip – the ring sucked fully into my mouth – a slow smile spread across her face. She kissed me before sliding from my lap to her knees, between my legs. As she unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, I was pretty sure I was dreaming. I didn’t want to move and risk waking up, but I couldn’t help lancing my fingers through her soft hair so I could both touch her and watch every single thing she did.
When she darted the tip of her tongue and ran it base to tip, I closed my eyes for just a moment, losing my mind with ecstasy. She leaned up to nibble me with her teeth, stroking me with her fingertips and then her tongue. I moaned, which was apparently the exact right response. As her warm mouth closed over me – Holy mother of God, my head fell back on the sofa and I closed my eyes again, my hands still in her hair, the heels of my palms against her cheekbones. And then, she hummed – one long, low note.
‘Fucking hell, Jacqueline,’ I gasped.