Beware of Boys (16 page)

She shrugged. “Sorry?” Her apology came out more like a question. “But I still know which way to go, so we're good. It may take us longer because we'll have to walk, but it can't get worse. Right?” she assured.

The sky opened up. Lightning danced, thunder boomed, and large, teardrop-sized raindrops poured from above.

“Can't get worse, huh?” M
kel asked, trying to open the door, but it barely moved. With rain drenching him, he pushed himself up and made his way over the side of the car. He walked around the vehicle, and put his hands on the sides of his head. “Can't get any worse?! The front of the car is smashed, Charly. This isn't my car—it's a rental, and I'm the only driver covered under the insurance! I'm going to be hit for like a hundred thousand and change!”

A hundred thousand
? “Bobsy, M
kel—Bobsy. We've got to focus on Bobsy,” Charly said, trying to sway his attention, and hers, for that matter. She couldn't even fathom a hundred-thousand-dollar charge for a rental car, let alone think about buying one that cost so much. “Think about your sister,” she reminded him, climbing out.

M
kel nodded, his cool demeanor returning. “You're right. I'll think about my sister. You think about how you're going to pay for the car you just wrecked—and not in installments either.”

Her best friend, Lola, would think that this was amazing, but Charly considered it a nightmare. Here she was, walking in the rain with one of the hottest guys on earth, with nothing accompanying them but hazy dark clouds and sand under their feet. If they had been on a beach on the coast of some exotic island, it would have seemed romantic, but it wasn't. It was a disaster, and it was her fault. With her plastic shopping bag in her hand bouncing against her leg with each step, Charly pressed onward against the heavy rain, walking in the direction of what she hoped was the street. Still, she couldn't be sure, but she couldn't tell M
kel that. He was too upset, and not just about the car. He had a serious case of Bobsy on the brain, and kept checking his phone.

He shook his head, stopped in his tracks, and drew back his arm like a quarterback. His stance and guttural groan told her that he'd planned on chucking the cell, which was still in his hand, across the dark desert. Suddenly, he dropped his arm to his side. “Still no signal! But what else can you expect in the middle of the desert?” he snapped. “Control,” he said to himself. “Maintain control.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Charly asked, shielding her eyes from the storm. She turned around completely to face him, and her long wet hair whipped across her eyes and the shopping bag swished back and forth, making wet crunching noises. “Ouch!” she said, wiping them as if she could erase the sting with her palms. “That's it,” she stated, fed up with her drenched 'do that had become a sponge for the downpour and a spout for the water that kept cascading down her face. She pulled off her now dark pink T-shirt, wrung it out, then wrapped it around her head, twisting and tucking it until she looked Erika Badu-ish. She nodded, glad for the reprieve. It was heavy, but it stopped the raindrops from blurring her vision. “So why?”

M
kel caught up to her, then looked down at the shopping bag. He met her eyes again. “Why not? If it keeps me calm, if it stops me from
letting
a situation control me instead of me controlling the situation, why wouldn't I remind myself to stay in control? I master myself by allowing or not allowing things to get to me.”

Charly shrugged. He could say whatever he wanted about self-mastery, but she knew better. “You can't control everything, ya know?” She waved her hand across the bleakness. “Like this. You can't stop the rain. You can't stop us from being stuck out here. You can't run the whole show by looking for loopholes to get out of the show. That's not being a boss; that's being bossy. Out of control, remember? Your words,” she finished, remembering he wanted out of the project because they'd clashed in the sneaker store.

M
kel's hand was on her shoulder, turning her around. “You're wrong. Self-centered—which is way worse than selfish, by the way—and wrong. I can control many things. Maybe not the rain or being stuck, but I can control how I react. As a professional and a man, I should always maintain some type of control, which is more than I can say for you. You can't and don't try to control anything, not positively. Unless it has something to do with your career and the spotlight—then you're up for anything. That's why you jumped on the opportunity to help with the project, because our centers will give you enough press for your own show.” The wind whipped angrily again, making the plastic shopping bag swirl. M
kel looked at it. “And why are you carrying that stupid shopping bag around?”

Charly's neck almost snapped off, she'd reared it back so hard and quick. “Excuse? For your information, I was already working on my pilot, and the last time I checked, you're working on a new album . . . which will be released at the same time the show will air. Coinkydink? I think not!” She crossed her arms. “Yes, it's a business opportunity, just like it is for you three, but it's also personal for me. Check my résumé, I'm known for helping. And you're known for running off and crying like a baby for an attorney to get you out of a project because you can't see eye to eye with me!” She turned and marched off with the bag bouncing off her leg.

M
kel jogged behind her. “You must be joking. I'm not a baby—I'm a brother and a boss. The brother who listened to Bobsy, who thought you'd be great for the show, and the boss who came up with the idea for it.”

“Yes, and it was you who ran to the attorneys to get out of it! And you talk about control. Puhleez! If anything, you're letting me control you. You want to walk on a huge project—a project to help people who were put in a position they didn't ask for—because you clashed with me.” She turned around and faced him, looking him dead in the eyes. “So that means I'm bigger and badder than your desire to help. Okay, so I flipped on you. So what! I was being attacked, M
kel, and I reacted. Who wouldn't have? I didn't know you were pulling me away from the madness. I thought you were a part of the madness. Remember, all I could see and feel was your hand pulling me. And because I come from a place I didn't ask to be in—a position not too different from the girls, except mine was battling to get out of a bad situation, not for my life—I'm a fighter.” She laughed, but it wasn't funny. “I'm a fighter, and you're a fleer. That's what they say people do when faced with something scary, right, fight or flight? Well, you're definitely the scared, go-running-home type.” She turned and walked.