Escaping Me (3 page)

Judging by the way Whitney looked when I left her with her mother, she isn’t going to be in the mood for the bar scene. She also has no idea who I am.  If her mother said anything about me, I'm sure it was the typical “He looked like the kind of guy you should stay away from” spiel.  The coast should be clear for at least one night and, man, I need a drink. 

It is crazy to think that only seventy-two hours ago I was knee deep in my usual bullshit.  I went out after work with my buddies, and before I knew it, the county cops were shoving me in the back of their car.  It probably had to do with the fact that I split a guy's head wide open, but I barely remember it because of the rage blackout I was in. I'm pretty sure it all started—and ended—when he called me white trash.  When my brother came and got me from the county jail, he said that he'd used his last favor to get me out of trouble.  According to him, I am on the county's watch list now and the next time they'll be dropping the hammer on me.  “It's time for you to grow up, Cole.  You're twenty-three, not thirteen.” he said.  “If you're so fed up with people judging you, then why don't you change your ways?”

That was easy for him to say.  Finn is the one who got the golden ticket handed to him.  He is a hell of a lot smarter than I am, and for some reason, everyone seems to love him.  I barely made it out of high school, and people resent me as soon as I walk into the room. The idea of college makes me want to shoot myself, and even if I went, it's not like they are handing out high paying jobs to everyone with a college degree.  I accepted the fact that the ticket I'd won was for a one-way trip to worthless—just like my folks.  As long as people stay the fuck out of my way I'll be just fine, and my brother can kiss my ass.  He has no idea what it was like growing up in a town where everyone knows you're white trash.  He hauled ass to the police academy right after my mother's third relapse and my dad's fourth stint in prison, leaving me behind with our grandmother.  I was the one left to defend our family name and take the brunt of being the town misfit.  Just because he strolled back into town years later with a badge he thought he'd earned the right to tell me how to live my life.  I was who I was and the fact that he couldn't accept that, coupled with him practically kicking me out of town, was enough to let me know that our relationship would never be more than good versus evil.   

“
Hey man,” Zeke calls out.  “Still on for that beer?”  The last two hours of my shift have flown by.  I guess trying to figure out your life and stacking boards is a good way to pass the time.

“
Absolutely.” I tuck my gloves in my back pocket as we walk out to the parking lot.  I open the door of my truck, releasing a creak of neglect, and climb inside.  “Lead the way.” I point at Zeke through my open window.  I need a drink.

Chapter 5 – Whitney

“What do you think you're doing?” Mallory leans up against the door frame and peers into my bedroom.  I've just finished taking a much needed shower and pulled on a tank and pair of sweats.

“
Getting ready for bed,” I answer, pulling a brush through my tangled, wet hair.

“
I don't think so.” She shakes her head, tucking one side of her shoulder-length bob behind her ear, and walks over to my closet, pulling out the first pair of jeans she sees and a navy halter top.  “It's Friday night and barely nine o'clock. Put this on.” She tosses the clothes at me and smiles.  “We're going out.”

I begin to protest. “
I don't think—”

“
Uh-huh.” She cuts me off with a wave her hand.  “You wanted a summer of fun.  It starts tonight.  You had all day to recover from your little mishap this morning, and judging from the way you woofed down dinner, I'd say you're feeling at least ninety percent.  Time to get the other ten back.” She pops her eyebrows up with a wicked grin.  “So get dressed, put on some makeup, and let's go.”  With that, she walks across the hall to her room, leaving me with no choice but to get dressed and ready for whatever she has planned.

After thirty minutes I am following Mallory out to the black Jeep she shares with my mom in the driveway.

“Where exactly are you taking me, little sister?” I say, climbing in the passenger side.

“
We're going to Pauly's.  Live music every Friday night,” she lilts.  “I'm about to show you how country girls dance.”

“
A bar?”  I ask as she spins rocks down the lane.  “Did you forget that you're seventeen? We won't be able to get in.”

“
You've obviously never been to Pauly's.  They're pretty lax on the security.  I've been going there since I was fifteen and I’ve never had my ID checked.  We'll be fine.”

“
Whatever you say,” I concede and let my head fall back onto the seat.  “This should be interesting,” I giggle nervously. 

It has been a while since I've been out dancing.  In fact, I've only been once and that was because my sorority sisters practically dragged me against my will.  I was having a good time until Wes showed up to take me home.  “Girls with boyfriends don't need to be out making fools of themselves,” he cautioned me on the ride home.  My weekends with Wes usually consisted of watching his lacrosse games and then going over to his frat house for a low-key evening.  Of course I managed to fall for a guy who belonged to the only frat on campus that didn't throw ragers.  I can honestly say that I've been drunk once in my whole life and that was on accident at my cousin's wedding.  I had no idea the punch had booze in it.  Just like everything else I do, I let the men in my life dictate what is acceptable behavior.  It started with my Dad and then Wes took over.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Mallory turns down the radio, silencing Jason Aldean on the second verse.

Mallory is strong-willed and independent, so I don’t want to tell her how I've been thinking about how I never make my own decisions.  “Nothing,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment in myself. “I'm just nervous about meeting your friends, and I'm not much of a dancer.”

“You're over thinking things,” she chuckles.  “It's not about impressing people, Whit.  It's about having a good time and acting your age for once.  You're nineteen.  Be nineteen.”  I nod at her advice.  She is right.  I am nineteen and single, and my dad is three hundred miles away.  I can do whatever I want and not have to worry about disappointing anyone. 

“
You're right!” I reach down and turn up the radio, just in time for Mallory and me to finish singing along to the party song.  

Mallory turns down the first street when we hit the small town that is north of our house.  She pulls the Jeep to a stop in a gravel parking lot packed full of four-wheel drive vehicles.  People apparently don't drive cars in the country. 

“Let's do this!” she howls as we make our way into the bar.  A wave of fresh cigarette smoke greets us at the door along with a burly security guard perched on his stool and looking down his nose at us.

“
I thought you said the security was lax?” I whisper in her ear.

“
Relax, I got this.” She smiles before turning her attention to the man standing between us and our good time. “Hey Butch.” Mallory leans in, places a kiss on his cheek, and rubs her hand over his bald head. “We're just here to dance.”

“
Sure you are, Mal.” He shakes his head with a smile and drops the tough guy routine.  “Behave yourself,” he playfully warns.

I follow my sister through the maze of people over to a small table in the back corner where we are greeted by the cheers of her friends.  “You made it!” A bubbly brunette jumps up and wraps her arms around my sister as Mallory grabs a beer from one of the boys standing beside us.

She quickly pulls the bottle to her lips and tosses back a drink.  “You know I don't miss a party.”  Well, well... my sister, the party girl.  I had no idea what to expect when she dragged me out with her, but judging from the way her friends reacted to her presence, I'd say she is the leader of this social circle.

“
You wanna hit the dance floor before we end up in the bed of my truck?” A cute blond guy tosses his arm over her shoulder and runs his finger across the strap of her sundress.  He lets his eyes follow his hand before turning to give my sister a suggestive wink.

“
I've been there, Ricky.” She shrugs his arm off. “It wasn't that much fun last time.”  The table offers their taunting remarks to Ricky, and my sister proceeds to introduce me to her friends.  The brunette is Shelby, Mallory's best friend.  Ricky is apparently her friend with benefits, and the other two names escape me because before I have time to put names with their faces my sister shoves a beer in my hand and leads me out into the sea of people stomping and waving their hands to the rhythm of the music.

Two beers in and a handful of cover songs later, the congested dance floor starts to take its toll on me.  We haven’t stopped dancing since we arrived and I need a break.

“I need some air,” I shout at my sister, who was mid-twirl.  “I'm gonna go outside for second!”  She nods before turning her attention to Ricky, who's been shadowing her every move on the dance floor.   She may have tried to appear uninterested in his advances, but it is clear to me that my little sister is enjoying playing cat and mouse with that poor boy.

I choose to step out the back door to avoid fighting my way back through the crowd.  Plus, I don’t want to take a chance that Butch would notice I've been drinking.  My reputation is spotless and I don’t need to taint it with an underage drinking violation. 

The fresh air is a welcome relief after the thick smoke inside the bar.  I take in a deep breath, lift my hair off my back, and sigh as the night's cool air hits my skin.  Thankfully, the heat wave dissipated once the sun had set.  My eyes fall shut as I enjoy the moment of quiet outside the noisy hall.  It isn’t until I hear the back door open and someone shout that I realize I haven’t been alone out here.

“
Hey, Pritchett! You ready for another beer?”

Chapter 6 – Cole

I nod at Zeke when he offers to grab me another drink and pull one last drag off the cigarette I stepped outside to enjoy... by myself.  Zeke isn’t the only one who interrupted my smoke.  She has no idea I've been out here the whole time, watching as she breathes in the night air.  Despite the fact that she's had her back to me the whole time, I knew it was her the second she lifted her hair up and the moonlight shimmered off the latte-colored waves.  I watched as she let it fall down and cover the smooth skin of her back that was revealed by the pathetic excuse for a shirt she is wearing.  Don't get me wrong, I love the way she looks in it, but the idea of every other guy in the place staring at her makes my blood boil.  My eyes already soaked up her bare back and settle on the jean-covered curves of her ass.  There is no denying that her body is unreal.  She is a runner after all.  Albeit, not a very smart one, but still...  She works out.  I have to summon every image of bass fishing, football, and dirt bikes I can just to keep my mind from wondering what it would be like to press my lips to the skin where her neck meets her shoulder.  I am thankful that Zeke barged in before I acted on the impulse to let her know I was standing behind her.  At least that's what I thought before I watched her turn around with a questioning look—a look that lets me know her mother mentioned my name.

“
Pritchett?  As in Cole Pritchett?” The way her voice carries my name across the air is incredible.  It is sweet and smoky.  I probably could listen to her talk all day and that is really saying something.  Most guys have selective hearing when it comes to women, but each syllable that passes between her pouty pink lips commands my attention. She steps toward me before I can sneak back through the door and follow Zeke back to our barstools.

“
Nice to see you standing on your own two feet, Whitney,” I answer and throw her for a loop. I watch as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth.  Her eyes are trying to peer under the black ball cap I have pulled down over my brow.

She extends her hand.  “It's nice to meet you, Cole.”  My hand flies to hers on its own free will and my fingers curl around her soft, warm hand.  “I'm Whitney Vandaveer, but I guess you already know that.”

“I do,” I breathe as I raise up the bill of my cap with my free hand and let our eyes fall to one another’s.  It is a partial lie because I didn't know her last name.  Not that it really matters—the outcome of me and her would be the same whether I knew her full name or not.  It feels nice holding on to a part of her that is conscious though, and I can tell by the way her breath hitched there is good possibility that if I pull her to me and press my lips on hers, she'll willfully kiss me back.

“
So, I guess I owe you a thank you?” She regains her composure and offers me a smile.  I watch her eyes go wide and feel my usual fuck-the-world resolve start to fade. It becomes obvious to me that I am giving off a vibe that says I’m interested in her.  I wish in that moment that I had never wondered what color her eyes are.  They are blue.  The kind of blue that reminds me of lying outside and looking up at the sky on a summer day when I was still too young to know what kind of man I was going to be.  Back when I thought I could be anything I wanted—like a fireman or astronaut.  This girl is like a pipe dream and, to me, all that means is me being with her is impossible.  I need to snuff out the tiny spark I can feel between us before it sets into a full roaring blaze.  I am trying to keep my nose clean and stay under the radar, and I can tell she is the kind of girl you get in fights over.  The kind of girl that causes you to lose your ability to think straight.  The kind of girl that deserves way better than I can ever give her.  If she can drive me crazy with her back to me, imagine what would happen if I ever let myself wrap my arms around her.  Kiss her.  Or bring her to a point where my name rolls off her lips in ecstasy. 
Can't do it.

“
Not necessary,” I nod as I let her hand fall from mine and duck through the door, letting it slam behind me.  I shouldn’t have come out for drinks.  I don’t need this girl getting under my skin anymore than she already has.

“
Can I at least buy you beer?  Maybe show you a little gratitude?”

Shit.
  She followed me.

“
That would be the friendly thing to do,” she adds.  I stop short of my intended destination and turn to see her still carrying the same smile she had outside.  “What do you say?”

“
I say…” I pause, talking myself out of saying anything but no. “No thanks.  I don't really need any more friends.”  I turn away from her before I can see her playful expression fall.  I know my words were sharp and there is good possibility I just hurt her feelings.  By hauling ass out of that bar, I at least get to remember what she looks like with a smile.

* * *

When my eyes open and I look around the shoddy interior of the accommodations I'll be calling home for the unforeseeable future, I start to question if I have any luck on my side at all.  It's a wonder I found this place last night when I left the bar.  Hank gave me the directions and the keys yesterday morning, and somehow I managed to find this little slice of Hell in the dark, down a dusty little dirt road, with absolutely no sense of direction.  Hank said the house was a little run down, but that doesn’t even begin to describe it.  If I were guessing, I’d say this place was built sometime in early 1900s and hasn’t been updated in the last forty years or so. 

I roll off the dusty couch I fell into last night when I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.  The entire day was trying.  Beginning with my moment of chivalry, to starting a new job, and ending with blowing off the hottest girl I've ever seen. 

It's a good thing I didn't turn on the lights when I arrived because I might have convinced myself that sleeping out in my truck was a better idea.  Cobwebs hang in every corner where the cracked plaster walls meet.  A thick layer of grime clings tightly to the wood floors as I shuffle my boots over to the large window that overlooks the tree-lined river running across the back of the property. I am thankful that this place has one saving grace.  This is what I know, and it is a peaceful reminder of better times.