Brawler (5 page)

Jenna groaned, reminding us both that she was there.

Laney scowled at her. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

“Yeah, so do you.”

“I already did mine. I just finished. You better do yours before mom gets home and finds out you’ve been slacking.” Laney smiled at me again. “We should leave her to do it. She gets distracted really easy. Do you want to come wait for my dad in the living room with me? We could watch TV?”

She left without waiting for me to respond, like she wasn’t worried I wouldn’t follow. And I would, that wasn’t up for debate, but I didn’t like feeling like a forgone conclusion either.

“Use a coaster,” Jenna warned me glumly. “My mom will go ballistic if she finds water spots. She’s crazy like that.”

I cast her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Nonpareil.”

“No problem, Rocky,” she answered dryly.

I followed Laney down a long hallway, watching her hips swing as she went. She was barefoot in jeans and a tight tank top, and there was a comfortable ease to the way she moved, like she fit so flawlessly into her body that she wasn’t a series of joints and bones uncertainly stacked together like the rest of us. She was planned. Thought out. Orchestrated to the smallest, finest details. She was the absolute sexiest thing I’d seen all year, and she knew it.

She led me into a large living room with dark wood floors, white walls, and cream colored furniture that looked like it belonged in a showroom. The coffee and end tables were all gleaming bleached wood topped with artfully cut glass in no particular shape, but giving the impression of waves on the ocean. An entire wall of the room was filled with French doors that led onto a patio beside a pool. Beyond its calm, blue waters and the bubbling waterfall tumbling into them, was the frothing, pulsing sea spray of the Pacific Ocean.

“It’s a nice view, right?” Laney asked with a grin, catching my stare.

I nodded in undeniable agreement. “I get why you don’t have a TV in here. With that in your backyard, who needs one?”

“Oh, there’s a TV. Dad would die without it but Mom makes us hide it.”

She gestured to the wall across from us where a large fireplace made of bright marble squares dominated the space almost as much as the ocean owned the other. Above it was a huge picture frame surrounding a very minimalist black and white painting of Marilyn Monroe. Laney pushed a button on a remote control and the canvas slowly rolled away. Behind it was the matte black screen of a giant television fitted perfectly into the wall.

“Really?” I asked sarcastically. “That’s it?”

Laney rolled her eyes. “Please. It’s so big it’s stupid. My mom absolutely hates it.”

“Why?”

“Let’s see… It doesn’t fit with the décor. This is a family room, it’s for family time. We’re all going to go blind watching it. It’s rotting our brains. She has a million reasons.” Laney flopped down onto one of the pristine couches, her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders and around her face. She smiled up at me welcomingly. “Sit down. Watch some forbidden TV with me.”

“Why?” I asked even as I took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from her. “So we can go blind together?”

Her eyes roamed my face briefly before her smile widened. “Hopefully not.”

I sipped the soda Jenna gave me as Laney pulled up a screen I didn’t recognize. Some On Demand movie channel, but it wasn’t long before she got
Old School
up and running. I was relieved it wasn’t a chick flick. I didn’t mind them now and then – they were a hard fact of a man’s life as much as hand, hair, or purse holding – but given the choice, I’d never choose one. The movies or the holdings.

“Have you seen this before?” Laney asked as the opening credits began to roll.

“Yeah, a couple times.”

“Good. So you won’t get pissed at me if I start laughing before stuff actually happens?”

“Is that something you do?”

“Constantly,” she admitted, pulling her legs up onto the couch. Her bare feet were nearly touching my thigh. “I can’t help it. I know something funny is going to happen and I just start giggling. The girls on the team are always getting mad at me for it. I ruin movies for them.”

“What team?”

“Dance.”

She looked it. Toned. Lean.

I settled into the couch, throwing my arm up onto the back. My long fingers could nearly reach into her hair.

“You play football?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I love football.”

I eyed her skeptically. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” she laughed. “Cardinals are my jam.”

I shook my head with disdain. “Stanford fan. That’s certainly a choice.”

“It’s my dad’s team. He and my mom met at Stanford. I’ll probably go there. Do you like it?”

“No, I hate Stanford. I’m a UCLA fan.”

She laughed again. “No, do you like football. Do you like playing it?”

“Why would I play it if I didn’t like it?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a careless shrug. “People do things they don’t want to do sometimes. I didn’t know if football is something you do because you like it or because people expect it of you.”

“Is that why you’re on the dance team? Because people expect you to be?”

She snorted. “I’m on the dance team because I’m crazy good at it.”

I didn’t bother telling her that she hadn’t answered my question.

After about ten minutes I saw what she meant about laughing before the bomb dropped. If I’d never seen that movie, I would have gotten up and left within the first few minutes. It was that kind of annoying.

“Did you know this movie is a comedy version of
Fight Club
?” I asked her.

She eyed me dubiously. “That’s not true.”

I shrugged. “According to the internet it is. Vince Vaughn’s character is Tyler Durden. Luke Wilson is Jack’s Raging Bowel Duct.”

“Jack’s what?”

“Have you seen
Fight Club
before?”

“No. It’s like the only Brad Pitt movie I haven’t seen.”

“So you’ve seen
World War Z
?”

“I don’t know what that is,” she said indifferently, turning her face back to the screen.

“
Inglorious Bastards
?”

“Nope.”

“
Devil’s Own
?”

“No.”

I paused, working through my vague memory of Pitt movies.

Laney started giggling, falling into a fit seconds before a punchline.

“
Snatch
?”

“Oh my God!” she cried, turning to swat at me. The backs of her fingers snapped sharply against my hard stomach. “I didn’t say it was the only one I hadn’t seen. I said it was ‘like’ the only one.”

“Yeah, I noticed the way you said it.”

“Are you giving me shit for my grammar?”

I grinned. “Not directly.”

“God, you’re as bad as my dad,” she laughed. “Take it easy, Einstein. Not all of us read the dictionary for fun.”

“Sorry, I’ll try to remember that.”

“Thank you.” She shook out her hand lightly, grinning. “You hurt my fingers.”

“You hit me,” I reminded her.

“Still hurt. You should come with a warning.”

“Sorry,” I repeated.

“Stop saying sorry.”

“Stop trying to make me feel guilty.”

“Maybe you should make it up to me instead.”

“How would I do that?”

She smiled wickedly and it was the first time all afternoon that she really turned it on. That she shifted out of casual, comfortable Laney and showed me the girl that knew what she was, what she looked like, and exactly what she did to me just sitting there on the other end of that couch.

“You’re the genius,” she purred. “You figure it out.”

By the time Dan came out of his office five minutes later – full of apologies that made me uncomfortable to hear – Laney’s toes were less than an inch from my leg and I’d memorized the curvature of her body sprawled out next to me. I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, though. I wasn’t a dick. Dan was doing me a huge favor and this was his house and his daughter. What kind of man would I be if I made a move on her under his roof an hour after meeting her?

The kind of man they all thought I was, that’s what kind.

It took Dan only two months to get the battery charges dropped. I was surprised when Emma showed up and stood in front of the judge to tell him what had happened. She explained how afraid she’d been and how I had thrown the first punch but they had attacked her first. She even showed him the scar on the back of her hand from the burn. The judge was sympathetic, he appreciated that the fight hadn’t been a drunken brawl, but we’d still resolved the issue physically. The fact that I’d been a medal winning boxer since I was eight years old didn’t help my case any. If Emma hadn’t shown up, it could have been a lot worse for me. As it was Dan was able to get the battery charges dropped and negotiate community service as punishment for the underage drinking and trespassing on a private beach. Jenner and Miner got the same.

That – the fact that Dan was able to level the playing field between me and two golden elites – surprised me. At least it did until I found out about his history.

Turns out Dan grew up a lot like I was. Poor, wrong part of town, too smart to fall into a lot of the traps that came with those circumstances. He’d made it to college on a deluge of scholarships and Top Ramen, met and married Karen, shot up the ladder of a local law firm, joined ranks with two of his most successful college buddies, and built his own empire.

It was an inspiring story for a guy like me.

It was extremely lucky for me that Weston never caught wind of any of the details of the fight and I was allowed to finish my last year in the Higher Focus program, no questions. Things were different at school, though. I never hung out with Will again, Callum was somehow stuck to me like glue, and just over a week after she appeared in that courtroom for me, Emma disappeared from school entirely. I heard she went to Europe to study abroad. She wouldn’t be back for graduation.

When we were prepping for my day in court, Dan and I met at least twice a week to talk about my case and it was always at his house. I stayed for dinner most nights because Karen insisted and because where the hell did I have to be that was better than a quiet, warm home with people who smiled at me instead of slapped me? Most nights, Jenna, Dan, and I would sit and watch TV while waiting for dinner. Laney was there sometimes, but more often than not she was out with friends or a new boyfriend. We smiled at each other, made small talk about school and the mutual people we knew, but I never hung out with her alone like that first day. I definitely didn’t volunteer to watch anymore movies with her.

Right around the time Dan settled my case, they invited me to come over and have Thanksgiving dinner with them. The weirdest part about getting an invitation to a holiday meal at a stranger’s house?

It didn’t feel weird at all.

That’s when I started to notice that they weren’t strangers anymore.

“Mike Tyson bit a man’s ear off!” Jenna shouted at me the second she swung open the front door.

I smiled at her and held out a small box of cookies. “Hungry?” I asked.

She scrunched her nose and shook her head, stepping aside to let me in the house. “That was against the rules, right?” she asked suspiciously. “He got kicked out of boxing entirely or something?”

“You researched enough to find out he bit a piece of Holyfield’s ear off, but you didn’t bother looking up his punishment?”

“I’m sorry,” she said sarcastically. “After I saw a picture of a guy’s mangled ear, I turned my computer off. I guess I’m just weird that way.”

“Or sheltered,” I smirked.

“Shut up. What happened to him?”

“I thought I was supposed to shut up.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes and walking away toward the kitchen. “You’re the worst. I’ll look it up on my phone.”

“He was disqualified from the bout,” I laughed, following her. “He lost his boxing license.”

“Good!”

“He got it back, though.”

She turned to glare at me, as though I had personally pardoned Mike Tyson. “What the hell?”

“Monet chopped his own ear off and mailed it to a girl. Tyson is not the craziest man on the block.”

“Just because someone else is more batshit than you, it doesn’t make you sane.”

“Language!” Karen shouted, suddenly appearing from the pantry.

She walked around the kitchen pouring, stirring, basting, and generally juggling more food than I was used to seeing in a week. Most of it wouldn’t have even fit in the fridge at the Asshole’s apartment and my mouth was watering at the sight of it.

“I made too much,” Karen muttered to herself. “Again.”

“Kellen can eat for three Laneys, though,” Jenna reminded her, gesturing to me.

Karen smiled at me. “That’s true. Hi, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re here, especially since we’re a man down.”

I returned her smile. “Thanks for having me.”

I had been surprised and a little relieved to hear that Laney wouldn’t be there. She was having dinner with her boyfriend’s family, or as Jenna put it, ‘Some soccer gomer with a jaguar and colorblindness’. Apparently he liked to wear pink shirts, collar popped. Jenna had texted me a picture earlier that day when the guy came by to pick Laney up and he looked like an ad for Polo Sport if Ralph Lauren was marketing to toddlers; he had a doughy baby face and a body to match.

“Is Dan in his office?” I asked Karen.

“No, he’s sulking in the backyard. He’s been banished.”

“Snacking?” Jenna asked knowingly.

“Every time. He fills up on junk and then there’s no room for the good stuff.”

“Then why do you put out the junk?”

“Because the junk is the best part.”

“Then why do you care if he fills up on the best part and has no room for the good stuff?”

She paused, sighing and pushing her flawless hair out of her eyes to look at Jenna. “Why do you have to question everything I say?”

“Because I don’t get it.”

“Hmm.”

I handed Karen the box of sugary junk I’d brought. “Can I contribute to the problem?”

Karen smiled gratefully, taking the box and setting it down on the counter. “That was very sweet of you, Kellen, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“I had to bring something,” I said, noting how small the box looked next to the mounds of food surrounding it. “Sorry it’s not more.”

“It’s plenty, thank you.” She pulled me into a quick, firm hug before disappearing back into the pantry.

Jenna plunked herself down on a stool at the kitchen island. “What kind are they?”

“Chocolate chip.” I pushed them toward her. “They’re store bought. I promise I didn’t bake them.”

“Are you a bad baker?” she chuckled, pulling at the seal on the box with black lacquered nails.

“I can burn water.”

“Skills,” she said, putting out her knuckles to me.

I bumped them with a smile.

She took a bite of one of the cookies and eyed the banquet in front of us absently.

“Are they any good?” I asked. “They’re from WinCo so I don’t have a lot of hope.”

She snorted. “At least it has real sugar, not like the substitution crap mom gets at her vegan store.”

“Your mom is vegan?”

“Sometimes.” Jenna pointed to the oven stuffed full of golden turkey goodness. “Obviously not today.”

The smell in the kitchen and the sight of all the food was making me hungry. I picked up a cookie and devoured half of it in one bite, a move I instantly regretted.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jenna asked, eyeing my sour expression.

“It’s too sweet,” I complained.

“Yeah. It’s a cookie.”

“They’re not all this sweet.”

“All chocolate chip ones are. Haven’t you ever had a chocolate chip cookie before?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve ever liked them,” I muttered, wishing I could spit the crumbly chunks out.

“Then why did you buy them?”

“’Cause I forgot I hate them.”

She laughed, snagging the other half of my cookie out of my hand and taking a bite. “I’ll help you remember next time.”

I grinned. “You’d do that for me, huh?”

“Only because we’re friends.” She put her hand in the air, her face turning serious. “I hereby do solemnly swear on this twenty sixth day of November in the year of our Lord, to forever and always eat any and all chocolate chip cookies that cross your plate.”

“Thank you. You’re a noble ally.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And you can’t tell at all that you’ve been raised by a lawyer, by the way.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, reaching for another cookie. “Just so long as you can’t tell I’ve been raised by a Wasp too.”

“What would that look like? I’ll keep my eyes open for it.”

“It looks like Laney.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Why?” she snorted. “Because I’m not perfect and pretty?”

I smiled, looking into her bold, gray eyes that never flinched and never faltered. “No. It’s because you’re too honest.”

“Laney’s not a liar.”

“No. She’s more like a production.”

Jenna nodded. “Like an act.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an act a lot of guys fall for.”

“Guys are dumb, remember?”

“I try to.”

“What about you?” I asked, sitting down on the stool next to her and snagging a pretzel from a bowl. “Tell me about all of your victims.”

She frowned at me, confused. “What victims?”

“The trail of bodies you’re leaving behind you at school. How many? I bet it’s more than your sister.”

“Zero,” she muttered, avoiding my eyes. “It’s absolute zero.”

“Not possible.”

“Don’t do that,” she protested sadly, all humor disappearing from her tone. “Don’t act amazed that guys don’t like me.”

I paused, watching her. The look on her face killed me. She was so sure of herself that I never stopped to think that she had insecurities. That life was going anything but amazing for her, but the fact that she was a tall, whisper of a girl going through school in the shadow of a curvaceous wet dream like Laney had to be hard. People expected her to look and act like her sister, and that really wasn’t Jenna. I hoped it never would be. The world needed more women like the one growing in front of me.

Sarcastic. Fearless. Funny. Ballsy as all hell.

“Idiots,” I told her firmly. She glanced over at me doubtfully, and I leaned down a little to hold her eye. “Fucking idiots. They’ll see it someday and they’ll be sorry.”

“See what?”

“The piss.”

I was relieved when she chuckled, shaking her head. “Guys want boobs, not piss.”

I laughed loud and long. “They’ll be sorry,” I promised her with a residual smile. “Boobs get boring. They’re a dime a dozen, but a piece of work like you is rare. Don’t ever change, especially not to make guys happy. It’ll take them a while to see how amazing you are, but I swear that someday they
will
see it, and they’ll wonder how they ever lived without it.”

She didn’t answer me. She wouldn’t even look at me, and I worried I’d really upset her. She was an incredible kid and I knew that someday guys would be lining up around the block to get near her, but I didn’t know how to convince her of that. It was one of those thing that only time could tell her.

She caught me off guard when suddenly she leapt from her stool and threw her arms around me. She hugged me tightly, her long, soft hair rubbing against my cheek and over my hands as I hesitantly hugged her back. She’d never done this before. It felt awkward, but good. Familiar even though it was the first time.

She held onto me for quite a while and I started to feel weird about it, until I heard a faint sniff. She was crying, or trying not to, and she didn’t want me to see it. I could understand that. Burying emotions is what I did best.

“You’re bigger than your body,” she mumbled against my shoulder.

I chuckled. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but you know what I mean, don’t you? You’re a big guy, but inside you’re even bigger. You’re more. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

“But you get it, right? You know what I’m saying?”

I squeezed her tightly, smiling as her warmth seeped into me and the quiver left her voice. “Yeah. Weirdly enough, I think I do.”

And even though it didn’t make much sense on the surface, underneath I knew it was the nicest thing anyone had said me in a very long time.