Clutch (Custom Culture)

  I reached the bus stop bench just as a bus came around the corner. The sign above the windshield said Ocean Boulevard.

  I climbed on board and headed to the back of the bus. At night, city buses were filled with weary looking people who were just anxious to get home after a long day’s work. Tonight was no different. I found an empty seat and climbed in behind a woman who smelled as if she’d been working in a strawberry jam factory all day. It smelled good to me, but I could only imagine how the lady felt about strawberry jam after wearing it all day. The smell of fruit and my lack of dinner made my stomach growl, and I pressed my arm into my gut to quiet it.

  What a day of crap it had been. My head felt like lead from it all. The rhythmic motion of the bus, as it careened from side to side along the rough stretches of pothole dotted streets, lulled me into deep thought. Maybe I was screwing myself. Everything had been going along quietly and without emotional upheaval until today. I could have just stayed in my pretend state of being normal and ignored all of my feelings and passion and happiness. I could have remained in the dull frozen world of pleasing my family.

  A cool breeze drifted through the slightly lowered bus windows. We were nearing the coast. I scooted down and hugged myself for warmth and closed my eyes. I thought about the brief heated moments I’d spent wrapped in Clutch’s arms. Twice before I’d been in those incredibly massive arms, and both times I’d felt instantly comforted as if nothing could ever harm me as long as his arms were around me.

  When I’d run away from home and spent a long night out on the streets, the only person I’d wanted to see was Clutch. I’d been a silly, stupid kid thinking I was tough enough to brave it out on my own, and it had scared me shitless. I was in such a sorry state and I’d felt so foolish and sad that the moment I saw Clutch I dropped into his embrace. I’d wanted to stay there forever, but, eventually, he let go. As much as I’d wanted him, he’d been just as eager to hand me back to my family. And when I’d followed another ridiculous impulse and had driven off in and destroyed Clutch’s car, I was sure he would be furious at me. Instead, he’d pulled me into his arms. At the time I’d convinced myself that his reaction proved that he loved me, but I was too good at growing fantasies in my head. Now I was done with it. I was done chasing Clutch. If he wanted me he’d have to do the chasing, and I was pretty sure hell would freeze up like an ice pop before that ever happened.

  My weary mind had formulated a plan to sleep on the beach, even if it might have been a little cold down on the sand, but then another thought popped into my head. I was feeling beyond distraught, and I knew there was only one person who I could talk to who would listen without judgment and without handing out unwanted advice. I needed to talk to Scotlyn.

  I walked along the boardwalk to the harbor. A salty fog brushed lightly over the beach, and I shivered in the cold mist. Aside from two people walking arm and arm and a few stray bicyclists on the walkway, the beach was deserted. I was glad to reach the dock where Nix’s boat was anchored.

  The soft clanging of metal and the slapping of water against the hulls was the only other sound. I could see someone sitting on deck as I neared the Zany Lucy, and I was relieved to see Scotlyn’s blonde hair glowing in the moonlight. She spun around as she heard my footsteps on the wooden planks of the pier. I lifted my hand to wave.

  It took her a second to recognize me through the haze. “Taylor,” she said with surprise and then she leaned to the side to see if anyone one was with me.

  “I’m all alone.” My tone sounded foreign and weak to my ears, and the vast ocean landscape seemed to swallow it up completely.

  “Come on board, Sweetie. I was just heading in for some cocoa. The fog has finally seeped beneath the blanket. Even the cat went inside.”

  I stepped onto the deck. The movement of the boat made me feel clumsy and insecure. Scotlyn seemed to sense my unease. She tucked her laptop under one arm and held out her other hand for me to take. Her fingers were cold. We stepped into the tiny cabin.

  I’d been on the Zany Lucy several times before, and it’d always taken me a few minutes to get over the claustrophobic feeling it gave me. My long legs could take me across the living room in eight steps, and though I’d never been on the boat at the same time as Clutch, I could only imagine how ridiculous he would look inside it.

  Scotlyn dropped her blanket on the back of the couch and placed her laptop on the table. I followed her into the tiny mouse hole they called a kitchen.

  “How is the writing coming?” I asked.

  She reached into a cupboard and pulled out a box of cocoa. “Some days are better than others.” She turned around and I always marveled at how amazingly pretty she was, even without any make-up. “Sometimes I sit down and my fingers can’t keep up with everything I want to write, and other days, I stare at the monitor hoping some magical little word fairy will pop up and tell me what to type.”

  I smiled at the image. “If only there really were fairies. Cinderella didn’t know how good she had it.”

  Scotlyn laughed as she poured the cocoa powder into cups. She glanced down as her cat circled her legs. “There you are. You always seem to come out of hiding when I’m in this kitchen.” She stuck a pot of water on the stove and motioned for me to have a chair at the table. “You seem like the marshmallow type.”

  I nodded. “Absolutely. And a double layer please. It’s been a rough night.”

  She plucked the bag of marshmallows and tossed them on the table. “I usually keep adding them until I’m down to the last drop of cocoa.”

  I opened the bag, took out two marshmallows, and pushed them into my mouth. “Who needs the cocoa?”

  Scotlyn pulled up a chair across from me. “What’s happened, Taylor? You don’t seem like yourself.”

  My throat tightened and I took a deep breath because the last thing I wanted to do was break down into a sorry-ass sob session. “Well, my parents are medieval, my brother is far too interested in my life and Clutch—” I shoved another marshmallow into my mouth, but the words still popped out. “Clutch kissed me.”

  Scotlyn smiled. “About time. That guy was going to explode soon otherwise.”

  Her reaction surprised me. “But he hates me. He’s always made it clear that I am a complete and utter nuisance.”

  Steam rose from the pot on the stove, and she swiveled around in her chair and grabbed it. She poured hot water into the cups, and we covered our cocoas with a layer of marshmallows.

  “Trust me, Clutch does not hate you.” She sipped her cocoa. “That hits the spot. I was concentrating so hard out there, I hadn’t noticed that a cold fog had floated in until my fingers were too numb to type.”

  I slurped off the warm foam. “But he does consider me a nuisance. In fact, he’s told me that many times.”

  “Maybe. But he has a whole different reason for it than you think.”

  “Well, I’m done with him. I’m done making a fool of myself when it comes to James Mason. I don’t need him.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Scotlyn lifted her mug, and we clinked them together in a toast.

  Some of the hot drink spilled onto my thumb, and I licked it off.

  “Besides,” Scotlyn said, “sometimes a little cold shoulder is the best way to get their attention.”

  “I gave him way more than a cold shoulder tonight. I slapped him really hard. Twice.”

  Scotlyn pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to avoid spitting out the mouthful of cocoa. She swallowed. “Really?”

  I lifted my hand. “Hurt like hell. It was like smacking my hand against a brick wall.”

  She burst out laughing just as Nix walked in. His amber eyes rounded as he stepped in and saw me sitting at the table. “Taylor?” He glanced around as if someone could be hiding in his shoebox sized living room. “Who did you come with?”

  “No one.”

  “She
came to see me,” Scotlyn spoke up, “and we’re having a girl chat.” She flicked her hand. “So, off you go.”

  “Fine, fine, but that looks good.” He leaned over the table, took long sip of her cocoa, and headed to the bedroom.

  “Do you mind if I crash on your couch tonight?” I asked. “I don’t have money to get home, and something tells me my return is not going to be met with a welcome home party. I left on pretty ugly terms. Jason and Sarah were over for dinner—”

  Scotlyn lifted her hand. “Say no more. I’ve met Sarah. Of course you can stay, but you’ve got to tell your parents you’re here. Even medieval parents worry.” Scotlyn’s smile was one of those that made you feel like everything was going to be all right even if you’d just had a terrible night and the guy you loved more than anything in the world had left with your handprint on his face and his handprint on your heart.

  Chapter 11

  Clutch

  “It’s only nine o’clock,” Barrett said. “We should hit a couple of clubs. I’ve been sleeping so much, I’m wide awake.” He’d been amped up since we’d left the car meet, and it seemed to have had something to do with the phone call. He never mentioned who he’d been talking to and I hadn’t asked, mostly because I couldn’t have cared less. I had my own shit to deal with, and I had no time for, or interest in, Barrett’s crap.

  “I’ve got to work tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Figures,” he sighed. “Some things never change.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He shrank down in the seat and reached for the radio, but I blocked his hand. “You’re right, Rett. Nothing ever changes. You are still the same selfish brat you’ve always been. Must be fucking nice to live in your carefree world with no worries or concerns. Oh, except, when you are strung out and you have no place else to go and then I’ve got to step in and save your sorry ass.”

  “Yes, the almighty, powerful Clutch has once again saved the world. Get over yourself, Jimmy.”

  My fingers turned white as they tightened around the steering wheel. One good tug and I could have snapped it off. I shook my head. “I don’t need this from you tonight, Rett. So just shut the hell up.”

  He sat silently and stared out the window the rest of the trip home. I yanked into the driveway and threw the car into park. In my fury, I hadn’t noticed the flickering front lights next door, and I hadn’t heard the sound of the lawnmower or smelled freshly cut grass until I climbed out of the car. Barrett was halfway to Aimee’s front lawn before I could say a word.

  My petite neighbor was trudging across the front yard behind the lawn mower at nine o’clock at night while her imbecile husband stood on the porch smoking a cigarette. I could see the tension in Barrett’s shoulders as he stormed over to the small wall that separated our two driveways. Aimee hadn’t seen him standing there, but Dustin lowered his cigarette and glared at Barrett from across the yard.

  I caught up with Barrett just as Dustin opened his mouth to speak. “What are you looking at pretty boy?”

  Barrett glanced at me. “Did that sonavabitch just call me pretty boy?”

  “Look, Rett, this is only going to make things worse for her.” I reached for his arm, but he yanked it away.

  “Are you kidding me?” Barrett yelled across the lawn. “What kind of an asshole lets his wife mow the lawn?”

  Aimee had turned the mower around and now saw the scene unfolding behind her. Her face stiffened as she looked from Barrett to Dustin and back again.

  Dustin walked to the edge of the porch, but being the weasel that he was, he stayed close to the house. He took a long draw on his cigarette, dropped it to the ground, and extinguished it with his shoe. “Why don’t you come over here and say that, Blondie?” The second the threat left his mouth, he seemed to regret it. Even beneath his unstable porch light, I could see the pallor of his skin lighten.

  Barrett hopped the dividing wall and strode with long, hard steps across the lawn with his fists clenched. Dustin backed up but didn’t scurry inside like I was sure he would. Aimee turned off the mower and stared wide-mouthed at Barrett. My even longer strides took me over the wall and to the porch before Rett was able to throw a punch. I grabbed his arm. His muscle pulsed with anger beneath my grasp. With my brother restrained, Dustin worked up enough courage to step forward.

  White hot rage circled the three of us as we glared at each other in an almost comical front porch stand-off.

  Then a sweet, shaky voice jarred all of us. “What’s going on here?”

  Barrett relaxed but only slightly. I was certain he would not throw a fist at Dustin with Aimee standing so close. The cold look my brother shot me as I released him assured me that he was now more pissed at me than at the asshole cowering on the porch.

  Dustin also seemed to sense that he was safe with Aimee standing right behind us. “Well, Mason, are you going to get this fucker off my property, or should I call the police?”

  I snorted. “Your property? You wish.” I glanced back at the lawn mower. “The fact that you aren’t feeling the slightest bit embarrassed about this astounds me. You are an even bigger asshole than I thought. And believe me, I thought you were a humongous one.”

  Dustin’s nostrils flared. I knew none of this was helping Aimee.

  Barrett spun around to leave and stopped in front of Aimee. She looked up at him with round blue eyes, and there was a hint of admiration and thankfulness in them. “You deserve way better than this, Aimee.”

  “Just get off my property, you jerk, and let me worry about how I take care of my wife,” Dustin sneered, obviously believing that I was there as an added wall of protection.

  Instead, the stress of the night had gotten to me. I jumped over three steps and in less than a second I was toe to toe with him, standing close enough to smell his rancid cigarette breath as he turned his face up to me. The few shades of color left behind from his encounter with Barrett had gone completely.

  I kept my fists to my side, but my tone made up for it. “When we leave here, you do not take this out on her, do you understand? Because if you do, if you lay one hand on her or even raise your voice to her, I will be back over here so fast, you won’t have time piss your pants.”

  Dustin licked his thin lips nervously and his gaze flitted to Aimee.

  “You guys should just go.” There was a tremor in Aimee’s voice.

  I felt sick about the whole thing. Barrett had been trying to do the right thing, but, as usual, he’d acted before thinking. I was just as pissed at Barrett as I was at the douchebag standing in front of me.

  I leaned in closer so that only Dustin could hear. “Understand me?”

  “Just get off my porch,” Dustin blurted and dashed back inside.

  Barrett stormed back toward the house as angrily as he’d stormed to the porch.

  My neighbor looked incredibly tiny standing in the dark on the front lawn. But as small and frail as she appeared, I knew there was more to her. She was strong inside, and I was sure one day she’d get the courage to get up and leave her horrid husband for a better life.

  “Aimee—” I started to say, but she placed her little hand against my chest to stop me.

  “It’s all right. I’ll be fine, James.” She glanced toward my house. Barrett had already gone inside. “He was just doing what he thought was right. Don’t be too hard on him.”

  I shook my head and grinned. “Believe me, I’m going to be on the receiving end of the tongue lashing. I broke a very important guy’s rule tonight— never stop another guy from throwing his fist at someone. He’ll get over it though.” I looked down at the grass beneath my feet. “Do you need some help with that mower?”

  She tucked her hair behind her tiny ears. She always wore the same tiny pearl earrings, and I always wondered if they had been a gift from Dustin. “The less time I spend inside,
the better. I actually find it sort of relaxing.”

  “Good night then, Aimee.”

  “Good night, James.”

  Barrett had thrown on his motorcycle jacket and bound his long hair with a leather strap.

  “Where are you going?”

  He pulled his wallet out and looked briefly through it before shoving it back into his pocket. “Out,” he answered without looking at me.

  “Look, Barrett, I know you were trying to help, but Aimee has been with the guy for awhile. She looks fragile and pretty like a helpless kitten, but she knows how to take care of herself. And pissing off her husband doesn’t make her life any easier. I think she’ll leave him one day, but it’s not our business.” I thought about Aimee’s words and how Barrett was just trying to do what was right. Sometimes my kid brother was more like me than I realized. “She was thankful though. She told me so.”

  He still hadn’t looked me. “I’m going out. I’ll be back later.”

  “Take the car. Your bike looks like it needs a major tune-up.”

  He shook his head. “It gets me where I’m going, and that’s all I need.”

  I blocked the door as he headed to it. He finally looked up at me.

  “Look, Rett, I’m sorry I stopped you from hitting the guy.”

  Rage flickered in his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Now, can you move so I can leave?”