Cheaters Anonymous (3 page)

C
HAPTER
3

It’s a shitty feeling knowing that the one person you’d like to fall in love with is someone you can’t. And I knew I couldn’t, because anything more than friendship with Scar would ruin the best thing we had – each other. And there was no way I was willing to go that route. The last thing I wanted was for us to become that couple who would break up because the other one cheated. We’d seen it over and over again, at school and at home.

Over the past few months, my mom had grown her own wings. My sister and I sat on the living room couch, watching her get ready for her “date” with yet another man, making bets as to how long it would be before they split. If someone told me that she was planning to screw every single guy in the world, I would have believed them. Still, not many made it to date number two. I had a feeling that while my mom wanted to give the impression of a whore, that was far from the truth. She appeared to be looking for something she’d lost long ago, and I couldn’t figure out what that was.

Scar’s lawyer father hadn’t been home much – something about businesses and the FBI haunting his ass. Scar laughed that he’d finally get what he deserved. He insisted that his father was a son of a bitch who was screwing his secretaries instead of concentrating on a family that was falling apart. After having known him for a few months, I realized that Scar hated his father beyond limits. Yes, the guy had fucked up, but it wasn’t Scar’s fault. There had to be more to the story than he let on. I mean, their feud went beyond infidelity. But every time I asked Scar if he wanted to talk about it, he’d say it was less dangerous if I didn’t know. While I had a good reason to despise my father, he had never hidden his infidelity and claimed it made him appreciate Mom that much more – otherwise known as feeding your spouse a bunch of crap to justify your getting laid. Mr. Wagner was a hiding type of a cheater, which made his deception even worse. Spending time at Scar’s house was like watching a circus on wheels. Mrs. Wagner was like the mother I never had. Despite having servants and butlers, she was like Carol Brady or June Clever, cooking, baking, cleaning – things I’d never seen my mom do. Mr. Wagner’s office doors kept closing and opening as businessmen and characters I didn’t want to know anything about made their way through. One time I saw a gun holster underneath his arm before he put his jacket on and left the house.

So there we were, away from our broken homes, walking hand in hand to an end-of-the-year party. It was also a birthday party for Brad, the football team’s captain, just a few blocks away from Scar’s house. I usually made a point to miss such events, but Scar was like a social butterfly who never seemed to linger too long in one place. While Scar technically didn’t belong to any social circle, he knew everybody. He was
their
social circle.

His asking me to come… I wasn’t sure whether it was a date or not. Actually, I was pretty sure we went out as friends only, but in my mind I wanted to pretend we were more, the way everyone else at school thought.

Scar still had that mysterious yet friendly look about him that drew people to him. And I totally got it, because if I could, I’d stay permanently glued to his side.

Tonight, his hair was dyed black, with bangs longer than was appropriate for someone coming from a family of his stature. I had helped him with the coloring that afternoon. A metal chain clipped to his belt-buckle hung down and over his black jeans. I wondered whether he was planning to strangle someone with it. When he walked into a room, he completely overpowered it with his presence. If he was going for the gothic look, it was working. Scar had gone through phases, from rock-and-roll to disco and now goth. It made me excited to see him in the morning when he picked me up for school. Each day I hoped it was D-day of change. I had yet to meet a boy who could outshine him, and every time I looked at him I felt my belly drum with excitement.

Saying we were an odd couple was an understatement – especially since we weren’t a couple at all. But tonight was different. The atmosphere shifted the moment Scar picked me up in his Hummer and gave me a single white rose. If he was trying to imply purity, he had it wrong. I had lost my virginity at the end of the previous year, and it was bad enough that I still saw Kirk at school. Not only was he one of the more popular boys who seemed to have everything going for him, but he was also gorgeous as hell.

“You sure you want to be here, Jules?” Scar took my hand and squeezed it in assurance as we headed down the stairs toward the basement. Shock waves of blaring music rolled over my skin.

“Of course I do. I can’t be a complete social outcast.”

“I don’t get why you would want to be in their inner circle, Jules. You’re too smart and too beautiful. You shouldn’t worry about fitting in.”

Whenever he called me beautiful, I felt my heart skip a beat. Scar had a way of accentuating each syllable of the word that sent waves of heat over my skin.

“That’s easy for you to say. Everyone knows you. I just feel like I need to spread my wings a little. You don’t expect to be by yourself for the rest of your life, do you?”

Scar hadn’t even celebrated his own birthday last week. His mom and I had baked cupcakes for the family of seven (Scar had a younger sister I never saw and three older brothers), and that was the extent of his festivities.

“Actually, I do. But I don’t need anyone else anyways. I have you.”

I felt my cheeks heat. What exactly did he mean by that? When I heard him say such things, it confused me. Weren’t we just friends? One moment Scar made it seem like he’d stay single for the rest of his life, and another like I would be right there with him, always at his side.

“Scar, I’m leaving in a couple of weeks. Besides, you do know that we’re not together.” I paused. “I mean, unless you want to be?”

OMG! Was I asking Scar out?

“What’s the difference anyways?” he asked. “I mean, at least as friends we can confide in each other and trust each other. Anything more and we’d be bound to get hurt. You know how it works. And you could move to the other side of the world, Jules, and I’d never forget you.”

Wow!
How could I even begin to make sense of what it was like to be Scar? He had told me his ideology of couples inevitably cheating on each other quite a few times. In fact, he had proved it to me more than once. In the past three months, he’d instigated the breakup of four different couples and they didn’t even have a clue. It was like his special hidden talent. Yet I couldn’t help but have hope for him. Maybe someday he would find that one girl who could change his mind.

But imagining him with anyone else felt wrong. Even though we were just friends, it had felt like much more than that since the day we met. I trusted him with my life, and I couldn’t say that about too many people.

By this time, we had reached the bottom of the stairs. The music had died down a little, which was a good thing because I was quite fond of my eardrums.

“Want a drink?” Scar asked.

“Sure.”

We didn’t get a chance to head toward the table set with booze before we heard, “Look who the devil dragged in.”

My heart stopped in my chest as I turned around to the familiar voice. Kirk, the only boy I’d ever slept with, stood beside Scar. I tried to hide, unsuccessfully, behind Scar’s body until he pulled me forward, resting his hand around my waist. Kirk paused for a moment, taking in the awkward situation, and eyed me from the bottom up.

“Hey, Julia,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” I replied, leaning in closer to Scar’s side, sinking into the comfort of his body.

Scar threw Kirk one look and the preppy stepped back, taking his eager gaze away from me.

“You got some goods?” Kirk asked.

With that Scar reached out to shake his hand, swapping a bag of weed for a few dollar bills. Yes, Scar not only smoked the stuff, he also grew it and dealt it. I never asked him where because I simply didn’t want to know. But I had to admit the shit was good; top quality, in fact. Scar must have made a lot of money selling it, but he never flaunted it. For someone who had all the money in the world, with an unlimited credit card, I sometimes wondered why he needed to sell weed anyway. It seemed to be more of a hobby to Scar than a business.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?” I asked.

“It’s okay, I’ll grab something later.”

“Okay,” I said, and made my way over to a table against the wall. As I passed the couch where a few of the cheerleaders sat, I saw Sherry snicker and lean in to whisper to her friend. And that was the reason why I normally avoided such parties. I wasn’t sure whether they were talking about me or not. They weren’t technically looking at me. Why was I being so self-conscious?

I looked down to the cooler stuffed with ice and beer bottles, wondering whether Brad’s parents knew about the alcohol, but I doubted that they even remembered that it was his birthday. When multi-million dollar contracts came into play, parents’ memories of what was important vanished. Last time I heard, Mr. and Mrs. Watson were on a business trip somewhere in Saudi Arabia. As an international lawyer, his father knew Mr. Wagner well, and on occasion I’d seen the Watsons visit the Wagner residence. Never casually, though – it was always about business.

Since I wasn’t too keen on burping for the rest of the night, I opted for the punch. The moment I took a sip, though, I knew that it had been spiked.

Thank goodness!

Feeling the fruity alcohol flow through me like some sort of a relaxing potion, I took in the atmosphere. Brad’s house had a walk-out basement that opened into the back yard. Beyond the window, a bunch of people were jumping into the swimming pool, half-naked girls flaunting their tiny bikinis while guys abused every inch of their bodies with their hungry gazes. I turned toward Scar. He was chatting with another customer and didn’t seem happy. I mouthed,
Are you okay?
He nodded before my attention was stolen.

“Hey, Julia.” Laura was one of the nicer girls on the cheerleading squad.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Good. Did you come here with Scar?” Even in the darkness, I saw her cheeks flush red.

“Yes, but we’re not together.” I noted that Scar was swapping his merchandise with another guy. “Why are you asking?”

My body flew forward as Kirk bumped into me and I almost spilled my drink. “I’m so sorry,” he said, laughing, and headed outside.

Moron! Just as clumsy as he was in bed.

“Oh, Sherry wanted me to ask. I think she wants to make a move, but you guys are always together.”

Could you get any more childish than that? Sometimes I thought I went to pre-school. And since when did Sherry need permission to hit on a guy whether or not he was in a relationship? While she was the last person I wanted near Scar, I had no choice but to be truthful. Scar would cool down that smirk on her face in minutes. She had no chance.

“No, we’re just friends.”

At my response, Laura gave Sherry the thumbs-up, and she shot off the couch and sauntered toward Scar. I drank the rest of my punch and filled up my glass, feeling a pang of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I wished I could have said that we were together.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

I left Laura behind. Outside, the air smelled of smoke and marijuana. I passed the pool and the Jacuzzi that was filled to its brink with girls. If another one jumped in they’d all spill out like a bunch of sardines. Yet one of the boys from the football team jumped right in the middle of it. He looked like a lost seal at sea with about a dozen sharks circling him.

With a new glass of punch in my hand, I headed over to the back of the house toward a dimly lit gazebo. The property was huge, but not much bigger than my parents’, and nicely maintained. For a brief moment I wished Scar was with me so that we could share these two minutes of peace, but he was probably striking another deal.

“Julia?” The voice startled me and I nearly spilled the punch on my dress. I sneezed as he joined me in the gazebo.

“Hi, Brad! Happy Birthday!” I stumbled toward him, feeling the punch kick its gear up by one hundred percent, and fell into his body.
Holy crap, what is happening to me?
Neither my limbs nor my head were cooperating.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Did you know the punch is spiked?”

“Yeah, I do. Want another glass?” He brought an extra plastic cup with him and reached out to me. I wasn’t stupid by any means, and I knew that underlying gesture was some sort of agenda, but wanting to seem cool, I took the offer.

“How has your evening been?” I asked. Seriously? Could I get any more grandma-like?

He chuckled. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes, I guess.”

“You guess? It means that I’m not doing a good job as a host, then.” He gave me that sultry look that would make any girl’s legs wobble. Yeah, Brad was definitely smooth. And now that I was so close to him, his cheek bones and sharp jaw reminded me of Scar’s.

“You brought me a drink. That’s being a good host.”

I didn’t notice when we sat on the wooden bench. Our backs were turned to the rest of the party, giving us a view of the flower garden.

“I wish I could say that my motives for coming to see you were selfless, but they’re not.”

I felt my brows rise at his rehearsed speech.

“You are the smartest girl in our biology class, and I’m really struggling. I was, um, wondering whether you’d mind helping me with some stuff.”

Okay, that was not what I expected.

“Stuff?”

“Well, you know. I want to get into a good college next year, and at the pace I’m going right now, that tunnel’s only getting darker. And since the finals are worth a lot, they could spike my grades.” He reached for my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “If someone like you could tutor me, maybe this year wouldn’t suck as much.”

Again – smooth. Shouldn’t he have thought about getting into college a bit earlier than now? Like ten months ago? Besides, with his father’s money he could buy his way into any school he wanted. I still didn’t get whether he was asking for help or flirting with me. Maybe both? And why was the alcohol cursing through me like a hurricane? What the hell had they put in that punch?