Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (74 page)

I answer the phone with
the words, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” and I hang up.

It’s not the gentlest way
to do it, but I’d rather have him think I’m just some crazy chick who doesn’t
know who she wants than have him giving up the more concrete opportunities of
his life.

I was really looking
forward to being with him, though.

Chapter
Twelve

Something about Women
Being Crazy and Men Being Idiots

Ian

“I don’t think we should
see each other anymore,” she says, and that’s it. She hangs up.

That’s supposed to be the
end of the conversation, but I’m getting sick of the back and forth. We’ve just
gotten to the point where we’re actually together and she’s scared, I know
that’s all this is.

Why would she suddenly get
so scared, though?

Things were great this
morning and, despite my lackluster performance dropping in—something she should
be more than used to by now, by the way—she was still in a positive mood before
I left to skate around the park.

Maybe her friend said
something.

I’m not entirely sure
what it is, and I certainly haven’t spent enough time with Mia’s friend Abby to
really get a solid read on her, but the chick gives me an uneasy feeling.
That’s why I didn’t follow through making out with her that night at the party.

I guess I really
shouldn’t be too shocked Abby is trying to get Mia away from me so she can take
another run herself, but I really hoped she was a better friend to Mia than
that.

Maybe it wasn’t Abby,
though.

Things seemed to change
at
the park.

Maybe Mia was telling the
truth and Abby had just called her, but as I look back, I don’t remember seeing
Mia on her cellphone. I wasn’t really watching her the whole time, either, but
what I do remember her doing was talking to Rob.

Rob and I have a strange
history.

We’re about as different
as two people can be when it comes to most things, but if it’s anything to do
with skating, he and I are simpatico. He and I have had more arguments than me
and anyone other than possibly my dad, but he
is
a good guy. I can’t imagine he’d try to blow up my relationship.

I think about it a little
more, though, and some things start falling into place.

Mia seemed too somber for
someone just going to help her friend blow off steam about a sibling. Siblings
argue all the time. That’s part of being a sibling.

As an only child, I’m
only working off what I’ve seen, but it doesn’t really compute as the sort of
thing that would put that solemn look on Mia’s face.

Then there was the way
Rob just skated off as I came up, even after I said, “Hey,” to him.

That’s got to be it: Rob
said something.

I change course from
skating toward Mia’s place to skating toward Rob’s.

Rob left the skate park
after he talked to Mia, but that doesn’t mean he’s home. If he’s not, though, I
guess I’ll just have to track the bastard down.

Fortunately for me,
though, when I get to Rob’s door a long ride into his shitty neighborhood
later, I don’t have to knock my knuckles bloody waiting for him to answer the
door.

“Jesus!” he says,
flinging open the door. “You don’t have to pound the fucking thing down. Shit!”

“What’d you say to Mia?”
I ask.

In the back of my mind, I
think I had it pretty well mapped out that I was going to start off willing to
listen and only go hostile if he gave me a reason to, but yeah. That’s out the
window.

“Calm down, bro,” he
says. “Want a beer?”

“What’d you say to her?”
I ask. “We
just
started getting past
the fucking hard-to-get thing, and when I just called her a little while ago,
the only thing she had to say to me was that it was over. You talked to her at
the skate park. What the fuck did you say?”

“Relax, man,” he says. “I
started off by telling her you’d told me good things. I was very copasthetic.”

“Copacetic,” I correct,
“not that that’s even the right fucking word. What else did you tell her?”

“I told her some of what
you told me last night, man,” he says. “I thought you’d told her he was an inch
from cutting you off. I wasn’t rude or anything, I just wanted to make sure she
was willing to actually stick with you through shit if and when pops took back
his check book.”

“That wasn’t your call to
make,” I tell him. “You should have talked to
me
about it if you were that worried.”

“I’ve tried, but to be
fair, you have been a bit of a self-important dickfuck recently,” Rob says.

“I’m really not in the
mood, Rob,” I tell him. “I want you to get on the phone and take back whatever
the fuck it is you said to Mia to get her so freaked out. It wasn’t your
fucking business talking to her about that shit anyway.”

“Dude, I don’t know if
you know this,” Rob says, “but you’ve got your head up your ass, and I don’t
just mean about your girly there. Saw you at the park still adding to the scars
and bruises—I admire the get up and fucking go, but let’s be real, man. You
don’t have your shit together and that bitch was just going to screw your
fucking head until—”

I’ve never punched
someone in the face before now, and I have to tell you, it hurts a lot more
than the movies would have you think.

My head’s suddenly in a
different position and it’s a couple of seconds before it really dawns on me
that Rob just hit me back. With that realization comes the pain of the impact
and the fucking urge for greater revenge, so I smash him across the face again
with a left and then with a right.

I manage to get him off
balance, and I take the opportunity to put every fucking drop of my righteous
indignation into a hard right hand into his stupid, talk-too-much mouth.

He falls backward, but
just as quickly is back on his feet, telling me to get the fuck off his porch.

“You know what, man?” I
ask, grabbing him by the shirt. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

“I was trying to do you a
fucking favor,” Rob says. “She was having you humiliate yourself up there and
we both know you’re never going to be ready for that stupid fucking
competition—not with her at the wheel anyway.”

“You’re a real piece of
shit,” I repeat.

“Get the fuck off my
porch,” he repeats and, there being no other business to attend at the moment,
I put my middle finger about an inch from his swollen, stupid fucking face and
I walk away, picking up my board as I come down the steps. “Yeah,” Rob says
behind me, “you’re a real badass, starting a fight with someone who’s just
trying to look after you, you fucking prick!”

I just keep walking. If I
don’t, there’s a real possibility that next time it’s not going to be my fist
smashing into his face, it’s going to be the trucks of my fucking skateboard,
and I can really see the consequences of that getting a little out of hand.

By the time I get back
home, I’m more pissed than ever and the pain of Rob’s repeated blows to my
beautiful, beautiful face is starting to sink in.

I just hope dad’s not
home.

That hope is quickly
dashed as I open the front door and walk into the living room to find him
sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“What the hell happened
to you?” dad asks, putting down his book and getting to his feet.

“I got in a bit of a
fight,” I tell him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” dad
responds, already screaming. “That is it, Ian. I have had enough. I have tried
to help you, I’ve tried to support you, I’ve given you every opportunity and
still, after I’ve talked to you endlessly about this nowhere lifestyle of
yours, you just keep going back. Well, enough is enough.”

“What are you talking
about?” I ask.

“I don’t think you’re
ever going to take me seriously until I follow through, and I think the time
for me to do that is right now, this moment,” he says. “Ian, I want you to find
somewhere else to live.”

“Oh, fuck off, dad,” I
tell him. “Mia broke up with me. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“
She
did this to you?” he asks.

“No,” I sigh. “She didn’t
do this to me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he
says, starting to pace in front of me. “This is
not
how you were raised, and I’m not going to support you so long
as you’re doing what you’re doing. It’s great the girl finally came to her
senses, but until you’ve not only given up the girl, but the board and that
whole lifestyle, I think it’s best that you see what it’s like out there on
your own for a little while.”

“Fine,” I tell him. “I
don’t need your fucking money. I’m out of here.”

Dad flipped off? Check.

Door slammed hard behind
me? Check.

Take anything with me but
the skateboard in my hand, the clothes on my back and the few random items in
those clothes? Nope.

Oh well. I’m not going
back in there now.

I’ll give him a call
tomorrow or something and I’ll get my shit. Yeah, I’ll move out, but if he
thinks I’m going to stop coming by to check on mom, he’s more out of touch with
reality than I thought.

The shitty thing is that
I have no idea where I’m going.

Most of my friends are
just random people I know from the park. The only ones I really spend all that
much time with are Rob and Nick, but Nick lives in a studio with barely enough
room for him and Rob—I guess I probably don’t need much of an explanation
there.

I pull the phone out of
my pocket and start going through numbers, but nobody’s jumping out at me as a
particularly realistic option. In my mind, there are at least a few of my
friends and acquaintances who live either by themselves or with a roommate who
would be okay with me crashing for a bit, but every possibility becomes
impossible as soon as I read the name.

It’s really just Rob,
unless I want to curl up with Nick on his futon.

The throbbing in my right
cheekbone, my bottom lip and the area around my left eye are still doing a
pretty good job convincing me not to head straight back to Robs right now,
though.

I’m homeless. I no longer
have a home.

It’s an odd situation,
but it’s only fair for Rob to let me stay at his place. When it really comes
down to it, my getting kicked out and cut off so close to the competition are
direct results of Rob’s actions.

Maybe I’ll be able to
convince Rob to let me stay with him, maybe not. Regardless, I’m going to need
a job, and I’m going to need one fast.

Even if Rob does choose
to have a short memory about our spat, he’s not going to let me live there very
long if I’m not chipping in and, as my main source of income has just been
removed, that means I’m going to have to get something together, and quick.

This really couldn’t have
happened at a worse time.

I turn the corner onto
Rob’s street, and as I come closer to his house, I can see him sitting on his
front porch, smoking a cigarette.

Hopefully we can do this
without coming to blows again, but I guess we’ll just have to see.

Things don’t start off so
well, as Rob’s on his feet as soon as he sees me coming.

“What the fuck are you
doing here?” he shouts. “Stay away!”

“Yeah, so our little tiff
got me cut off and kicked out,” I tell him, hoping the nonchalant approach will
help ease tensions. “I’m staying with you.”

“Sounds shitty,” he says.
“Not my problem.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” I
tell him, “as it’s pretty much your fault from start to finish.”

“You can’t blame me for
your dad’s bullshit. He’s had that stick up his ass as long as I’ve known you,”
Rob says.

“Longer,” I respond, “but
come on, man. I’ve got nowhere else to go. Do you really think I’d be here
asking to bunk with you after kicking your ass if I had other options?”

He scoffs and shakes his
head. “I think you got part of your little story backwards, there, bro,” he
says. “I do believe it was me who kicked
your
ass.”

“Look at your fucking
face, dude,” I tell him.

“Look at yours,” he says.

“Okay, neither one of us
is going to end up on a magazine cover for about a week, so what?” I ask. “We
fought. It doesn’t even matter who won. It’s over.”

“You’ve got some balls,
I’ll give you that,” he says.

“I do,” I tell him. “Two,
last time I counted, but a couple more may have sprouted up on the walk over
here.”

“You’re pretty fucking
weird, man,” he says.

“That’ll just make things
more entertaining around the house,” I tell him. “Come on, man. I really have
nowhere else to go and it
was
your
artwork on my face that put my dad over the edge.”

“I can’t afford to take
on a freeloader,” Rob says. “I’m sorry about what happened with your dad and
everything, but I got bills and shit, bro. Unless you’ve got some way to chip
in your fair share, I can’t do it.”

“I get that,” I tell him.
“Just give me a week or two to find a job, and I promise I’ll pay my portion of
whatever.”