Living Violet (5 page)
I just shook my head, my mouth open in shock.
“Chicks dig me.” He shrugged again as if that answered everything. To prove his point, he winked at three more awestruck women circling the counter.
Not one to be ignored, I stepped into his line of vision. “Do you have any self-restraint?”
He met my gaze for a long beat before saying, “Plenty.”
“You might want to apply some of it to the workplace.” With my chin hiked in the air, I left the music section.
I couldn't believe this guy. His arrogance was breathtaking. A woman almost died, and he was completely nonchalant about it. Those women remained camped out by his register, waiting for him to grace them with his presence. If they started slinging underwear at him, I was going to have a talk with Linda. In fact, I should talk to her either way out of general principle.
I wove through the maze of bookshelves toward the break room when Caleb leapt out of nowhere and blocked my path. “If I didn't know any better, I would think you're jealous.”
I tried to walk around him, but he blocked me with a side step.
“Jealous of what?” I asked.
When I moved to the right, he did the same. “Of my popularity.”
I stopped moving. “Oh please. I know practically everyone in this town.”
“I mean with the opposite sex.”
My hands pinned to my sides, my fists clinched. He may stand over six feet, but my killer right hook could bring him down to size. “Are you implying that I don't have game?”
The side of his lips curled. “No. I'm implying that you have a tendency to scare people off. You don't have the same reaction with me that most women do. For a while, I thought you hated men.”
At his words, my muscles relaxed. I gave up worrying what people thought of me long ago, but that didn't lessen the sting. “I don't hate men.”
“Then prove it. Go out with me.”
My mind went blank for a second, so I wasn't sure if I had heard him right. “Go-who-what?”
“Go out with me. Nadine gave me two tickets to Europia Park since she works there, and I want you to come with me.”
“Get Nadine to take you.”
He gave me a weary look as if I should know better than to ask. “Catching Nadine on a day off is as common as Halley's Comet.”
He had a point. Vacations and sick leave must be against her religion or something. “Then why don't you call one of your disciples to go with you?”
“Because I want
you
to come with me. Besides, they would be all over me, and I actually want to see the park. I've been in Virginia for two years, and I've never been there.”
you
to come with me. Besides, they would be all over me, and I actually want to see the park. I've been in Virginia for two years, and I've never been there.”
Indignation came back with a vengeance. “You are so arrogant!”
“Yet you won't say no.”
“Oh yeah? Check this out. No!” I tried to skirt around him. When that didn't work, I raced to the other end of the aisle and ran into his chest.
He tapped his chin in contemplation. “Tomorrow would be a good time. We're both off tomorrow. Why don't we meet here and we can take my car?”
“How about I stay home, and you go get your little groupies to show you around?”
“I already told you why, and this would be a great way to get to know me.”
“I don't wanna get to know you,” I argued, sounding every bit the five-year-old.
“It's not a date. I just want to hang out.”
Jabbing a finger in his chest, I met his gaze dead on. “First off, how do you know when I work? Second, you're assuming I have nothing else to do but show you around a theme park all day, and why isn't it a date?”
“Because you don't want it to be. And our work schedules are posted in the break room.”
“Oh.” I dropped my hand. “Well, I'm still not going.”
His advance made me retreat until my back pressed against the shelf.
“I'll tell you what, meet me here at noon, and if you're not here by twelve-fifteen, I'll go alone. No pressure, though I'm sure you wanna know why what's-her-name had her heart attack.”
He slowly backed away, his eyes watching my reaction. And boy, he had quite a show. All kinds of horror scenes flashed before my eyes in every subgenre, from psycho killer to swamp monster.
“What do you mean?” I called after him.
“Tomorrow. Noon.”
“What? What the hell kind of cliffhanger is that? If there was foul play, there's no way I'm going anywhere with you.”
He turned and walked on. Now it was my turn to chase. He only made it to the end of the row before I caught his arm. “Did you have something to do with it? Did you poison her, or something?”
Dude had the nerve to laugh. “No.”
I pulled his arm again. “Then what?”
Instead of answering, he scooped my face in his hands and kissed me, if one could call it a kiss. His mouth barely touched mine, which made it that much more powerful. The soft pillows of his lips traced the seam of my mouth, seeking access as he gently nudged mine apart.
At the feather-light contact, a sudden heaviness pulled at my chest. My arms began to tingle as if they had fallen asleep. The sensation soon reached my feet, and I couldn't feel the floor under me.
My eyes flew open and met an eerie purple abyss. His eyes were odd from afar, but seeing them up close scared the bejesus out of me. They possessed a soul of their own, a life that shouldn't exist, an entity that shocked the eyes and confused the senses. It stared back at me, sending an electrical charge through my nervous system, a feeling that made my lower region ignite. Just as I thought I would pass out, Caleb pulled his lips away.
Firm hands gripped my shoulders as he pressed his forehead against mine. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, “Tomorrow. Noon.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving me to question the state of my sanity all on my own.
5
M
ia stretched across my bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Let me see if I got this right,” she began. “That creepy guy at your job asked you out on a date?”
ia stretched across my bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Let me see if I got this right,” she began. “That creepy guy at your job asked you out on a date?”
“It's not a date!” I yelled from the hidden vortex in my closet.
“Okay. If it's not a date, then why am I here, and why do you wanna borrow my top?”
“Because I can't fit into your jeans,” I replied.
“You can wear my sweatpants; the ones with âJuicy' on the back.”
“Mia, there ain't nothing juicy about what I got back there.” I looked over my shoulder toward my butt. “That would just be false advertisement.”
Though I needed Mia's keen fashion sense, I also needed her as a solid alibi. I had told Mom where I was going, but left out who was coming with me. Mom wouldn't let me out the door without a thorough FBI background check on Caleb Baker. Then she would probably call Dad, and I wanted Caleb to live long enough to give me the music he had promised me. My parents' non-dating rule derived from their error in judgment as teenagers, and they didn't want to relive the sequel through their daughter.
“Why does it smell like feet in here?” Mia asked with a wrinkled nose.
“I was working out earlier.”
She glanced at the DVDs on top of my television. “What's the big deal about Tae Bo? It's so old school. Why don't you do the stripper workout? Dougie seems to appreciate my workout regimen very much.”
“I bet.” I shuddered. “Unless I plan on working the pole after high school, that particular skill is not gonna benefit me. Besides, Tae Bo is way cheaper than a kickboxing class.”
“You're so strange, Sam.” Mia sprang up and dove into the suitcase she brought over that was armed for any fashion emergency. “Let's see, something to wear ... oh, what about the capris?”
I tossed a shirt over my shoulder. “Muffin top.”
“The cutoffs?”
“Wedgies.”
“Well, damn. I don't know what to do. You didn't give me much notice here.”
“It's cool. I got a backup plan.” I went to the door. Mia was right on my heels on the short trip to Mom's room.
Clicking on the closet light, I surveyed the lay of the land. My eyes stopped at a pile of summer clothes in the back of the closet. On the top sat the infamous “skinny clothes” that Mom didn't have the heart to toss out in case she stuck with her diet. Unfolding a pair of black jean shorts, I realized it was a lot of wishful thinking on her part. Mom still owned a great figure, but that dime piece had some rust on it.
Turning to Mia, I presented two pairs of shorts. “Which onesâthe red, or the white ones?”
Leaning against the doorjamb, she scrutinized each item, assessing the style, the cut, and the age of the textile worker who wove the fabric. “The white ones. They make you look more ...
virginal
.”
virginal
.”
I moved to the dresser drawers. “Keep on with the jokes.”
“I'm just saying. I think it's cute that you have a crush. You know, it's the summer of love.”
“Blasphemy! You dare speak such guile under thy kinsmen's roof.”
“I love it when you get all medieval on me. That means I've hit a nerve.” Mia plopped on my mom's bed. “So, what are you gonna do with your hair?”
“You're looking at it.”
She grimaced. “How does it naturally stand up like that?”
“Physics,” I answered, knowing exactly what she meant. As the sworn enemy of the humid Virginian summer, my funky riot of curls would not be denied. Today, my hair was pulled back in a huge Sistah Soldier afro puff on the top of my head. A red and white streak on the right side stood out against jet-black curls, resembling the Bride of Frankenstein with a candy stripe.
I slid on the white shorts, moved to the full-length mirror, and took inventory of the one known as Samara Nicole Marshall.
Dad called me “baby girl” for a legitimate reason. I had a baby-doll face. A great deal of cheeks and forehead catered to small features bunched in the center with barely a chin to anchor it. My wide eyes were so dark they looked like two big pupils. There's something to be said about biracial kids: they all have great skin, a rich caramel complexion that defies the gods of dermatology. I had to smile at that, my one crowning glory.
Mia stepped beside me and struck a pose, her brown ponytail slapping me in the face. Right on cue, she cataloged her microscopic flaws: claiming to be the only Filipino in history who couldn't tan, plotting to remove the light bump on the bridge of her nose, and debating whether to inject fat into her thin upper lip.
She stood two inches taller than my five and a half feet, sporting a sleek, fat-free physique that I secretly envied. I looked down at my boyish figure, which carried all its weight in the midriff, leaving scrawny limbs swinging in the breeze. It could be just baby fat or the inability to put the fork down, but my Treasure Troll beer gut would not go away. These were not the enduring qualities of a hottie, but rather a starved orphan in need of a child sponsor.
“So if you don't like this guy, then why are you going to Europia Park with him?” Mia asked, combing her hair with her fingers.
“He said he knew what happened to that girl in the parking lot, and it's a free ticket.”
“You think he was involved? Maybe he's a drug dealer and he gave her some bad stuff.”
“I don't think it's that. There's something odd about him.”
Mia's look was incredulous. “And you wanna go off with him? Good thinking, Sam.”
“That's why you're here. I need you to come with me.”
She leapt back in surprise. “What?”
“I need a buffer and witness to any possible homicide. My cell phone has a GPS, so in case we split up, at least someone can find my body.”
“What if he takes the phone?”
I rushed to Mom's nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out the razor she kept under her Bible. “Then I'll have to cut him.”
“You can't take that into the park.”
“I can put it in my shoe.”
Mia sighed. “In that case, Dougie's got some brass knuckles.”
I scoffed. “Too bad he can't hit worth a damn.”
During my scavenger hunt for the perfect ensemble, Mia caught me up on the fallout at Virginia Beach. Dougie had gotten there and seen Mia hugging Garrett Davenport. Though Mia insisted that the hug was friendly, and expressed no romantic interest in the strapping linebacker, that hadn't stopped Dougie from going completely bat shit. The odds would have been in Dougie's favor were it not for half the football team voicing their concern for their injured comrade. For some reason, Mia found jealous rage and a head contusion sexy, and she and Dougie were back together.
“Leave my man alone. He was just defending my virtue.” Mia propped her hands on her hips.
“You might need to upgrade your security,” I shot back. “So are you coming with me, or not?”
“Yeah. I gotta stop by the house first and grab my season pass. I'll meet up with you later.”
“Where?” I asked.
“In front of the Hall of Feasts. If I leave now, I should get there at two. Can you hold out for an hour?”
“I think I'll be fine. I just need some backup, just in case. I don't think he's stupid enough to do anything in public. Plus, Mom taught me how to jump out of a moving car.”
“Tuck and roll.” Mia smiled.
“That's what's up.” I nodded and walked with her to the door.
Â
Cruising into the Buncha Books parking lot, I found Caleb standing by his Jeep, eating an éclair.
I pulled into a vacant spot three lanes down then climbed out. Taking my time, I gave him a detailed perusal. He looked pretty good in civilian gear: a plain white shirt, tan cargo shorts, and sneakers. The heat was a likely motive for his much-needed man-scaping. He almost looked like a kid without that Unabomber facial hair, which provided an unobstructed view to his angular jaw and full, bow-shaped mouth.
Once he spotted me, he pulled the dark shades to the top of his head. His eyes locked on mine for a moment before examining his watch. “Twelve-eighteen.”
“You didn't expect me to come right on the dot, did you?”
Caleb smiled and looked to his feet. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”
I nodded.
“Then yes. I don't know, I'm justâ”
“Used to women dropping everything and running to lick your boots,” I interrupted.
“No. Not my boots.” He sucked the icing off his fingers.
Tossing him a murderous glare, I asked, “Are you gonna tell me about the girl?”
“You're quite curious about her. Are you sure you two don't have a thing?”
“No, I just don't like suspense. Spill it, Cake Boy.”
He leaned against the back of his Jeep, engaged in a quiet moment of reflection. I didn't know what was worse: watching him inhale his high-calorie stimulant or that he hadn't offered me any.
Taking his sweet time, he said, “I kissed her.”
I waited for the punch line.
“That's it.” He tossed the wrapper in the backseat.
“That's it? I waited a whole day for that?”
With a sly curl to his lips, he placed the shades back over his eyes. “Didn't know I had you on pins and needles like that. Besides, you wouldn't have joined me otherwise.”
I threw my hands in the air. “You're suchâ”
“A great kisser?”
“A freak!” I yelled.
Dangling keys in his hand, Caleb circled his Jeep to open the passenger door for me. “Yet, you're still here. Come on, I wanna get on Poseidon's Wave first. I heard it was cool.”
There had to be more to it than that. Infuriating as he was, I wasn't immune to his excitement, like a little kid at recess. The boy was plain goofyâprobably not a physical threat. I was more concerned with internal injury, the kind that could penetrate through Kevlar and hurt worse than any bullet. In light of all this, he made the thrill of escape contagious, and I wanted the adventure.
After climbing in, I waited for him to start the ignition before I asked, “Are you a drug dealer?”
He paused. “Why? Are you wearing a wire?”
“No. Did you give her something laced? Or did she have an allergic reaction?”
“Sam, I didn't give her drugs. I was at the magazine aisle, she saw me, and we started talkingâ”
“About?” I cut in.
He stole a quick glimpse before he pulled out of the lot. “Grown-up stuffânot suitable for your young ears.”
“You're only two years older than me. Now spill it.”
He didn't answer right away; in fact, he didn't speak at all. Perhaps he was thinking of a good lie. If so, my BS meter had a hair trigger, and I would catch the first crack in his story. When we reached the interstate, he spoke up.
“She was flirting and touching me. One thing led to another, and well ...”
I sucked my teeth in disgust. “I hate when people say that. It's such a cop-out. People are fully aware of their actions.”
He shook his head. “Not with me.”
I cut my eyes at him. “Dude, really, how can you
and
your ego fit in this car?”
and
your ego fit in this car?”
“I'm just being honest. Females are drawn to me. It's beyond my control.”
I pointed to my chest. “Not this female.”
“You're different.”
“Different how?” I asked.
“You're not open.”
Leaning away from him, I stared him up and down. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. You're too guarded and cynical to let anything into your world.”
“What's that got to do with a woman suffering cardiac arrest in her car?”
He combed his fingers through his hair, which the wind pushed back in his face. “Look, would you just relax and enjoy the day? It's my day off, and I want to absorb the oncoming adrenaline rush. Don't you ever have fun?”
“Not with potential killers,” I mumbled.
“I haven't killed anyone.”
“Yet. And I intend to keep it that way.”
He leered at me through the shades. “You really think I would hurt you?”
“I wanna believe you won't, which is why I agreed to come. As much as it pains me to admit, you've sparked my interest.”
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